“Come now, Sister. To where has your mind strayed?” the taller sentry shooed her back with the blunt side of his sword. “Go! Fetch your senses. Then we shall talk.”
“I have my senses! Brothers, listen to me. Creatures roam at nightfall that should not be here, and it bears the weight of something foul. Prince Jaycent is a rahee, and an influential one at that. With his help, we can put an end to whatever approaches this kingdom before it gains a foothold.”
Jaycent stepped up beside her and swept back his black cowl. Both sentries glared at him, unimpressed.
“What can you do for us that we cannot do for ourselves?” the tall sentry asked.
“I need your leader's help, and, if things escalate, you will need mine. I have a fortress of a city and an army to go with it. Your people are already taking shelter there now, so I know you are aware of the threat Levee warns of.”
“We cannot even agree on a road, and you wish us to work together?” the sentry crossed his arms, his expression doubtful.
“Regardless, our alliance is not your decision to make, now is it?” came Jaycent’s rebuttal. “Let me speak to your leader.”
“My orders do not come from you.”
“Brothers, please,” Levee stood in between them, her hands on their chests as she pushed them back a step. “Set your tempers aside for just a moment. Think about our people.”
“He is not our people,” the sentry growled. “Sister, where are your memories? Do you not recall the way Nevaharday treats us? Like a pack of dogs unworthy of the ground we tread!
“Lines were drawn on the land. His people look upon us with contempt for holding on to what belongs to us. We are scorned in the city like trespassers yet what crimes have we committed? We’ve walked this land long before his castle rose upon that hill.” He shook his head in disgust. “This 'prince' who offers us his service has done no good service to us! He has done nothing to aid the gypsies or to relieve the prejudice against us nomadic folk. You do us an injustice to stand at his side!”
“Are the gypsies not guilty of injustices, too?” Levee brazenly asked. “In return, we rob Nevahardans when they approach borders we’ve drawn on a land that was meant for all of us. We set up tolls and threaten those who refuse to pay with arrow and sword. How much better than him are we?”
“Your mind has been poisoned!” the sentry accused. “Everything we do is to protect our people!”
The tall sentry’s companion nodded in agreement, which flustered Levee even more. “He is our people!” She clinched her fists, holding back her frustration. “Can’t you see? Nevahardan or not, we are all rahee.
“Tch!” the shorter sentry scoffed. “You speak with a child's tongue!” He swatted in her direction, but Jaycent had him by the wrist before his hand could graze Levee’s skin.
“Do not touch her,” Jaycent shoved the sentry forward.
“Do not play noble, Prince,” the small gypsy seethed. “We know you better than that.”
“That is enough, Shayda,” the commanding voice belonged to a youthful stranger Levee had never seen before. He stepped into the torchlight wearing a look that told the sentry he had gone too far. “I will take it from here.”
Shayda took a step back and bowed deeply, humbled by his beloved leader's disappointment. Patchi offered a nod of acceptance before turning his attention toward their guests.
Jaycent stood protectively in front of Levee, who peeked with wide eyes through the space between Jaycent's arm and his waist. Patchi met her gaze and winked.
“Come out of hiding, little sister. Step out into the open where I may see you.”
Levee ducked under the prince's arm as she realized who it was before her. All her life she had heard about Patchi, but now that she saw him she didn't know whether to gawk or laugh.
Boyish brown eyes reflected the smile across his lips. When the flames illuminated his face, Levee caught sight of the famous brown birthmark splayed across his left eye and over his brow and cheek. Well-groomed flaxen hair fell just passed his fluffy, horse-like ears, but no one had ever warned her about his height.
Patchi barely broke five feet tall and looked more like a child than an elder who’s seen generations transpire. “I should've known such wise words would come from the tongue of a Tensley.”
Levee, awestruck, sputtered out the words, “You knew my family?”
Again, Patchi smiled. Something about him captured Levee. H exuded a wisdom that far surpassed his youthful image. The gypsy clans said he knew things long forgotten by most of their people. Listening to him now, their claims didn't seem so farfetched.
“I met your father once,” he said. “But your family is renowned among our nomadic kin for its gift with horses.”
“Both of parents died six years ago, sirrah,” Levee imparted.
“Aye, so I heard,” subtly, the prince leaned in closer to the conversation and Patchi tossed him a knowing glance. “Great sadness fell upon me when word of their passing met my ears. But you,” Patchi chortled, “you are very much alive, and I suspect you shall bring great honor to your people.”
“Why would you assume that?” There was an uncertainty in Levee's voice that complimented Jaycent's skepticism.
“In you resides a rare gift, Melah, and alongside it great wisdom,” the term, meaning “mare”, caught Levee off guard for it was only used to acknowledge females of high respect. “It echoes in your words tonight. In fact, it was your heartfelt appeal that swayed me to listen.” Putting a light hand on Jaycent's arm, he added, “Take your company and follow me, Connor Prince. I will lend you my ears.”
Jaycent tossed an arrogant smile toward Shayda as he fell in step with Patchi. Levee, Melee and Diego filed in line behind him, and together the group delved into the tangled growth. His Highness remained focused on their path, pushing, ducking, and tugging his way through the underbrush. Levee trailed in his wake, struggling to appear stout-hearted despite the noises of the night.
Eventually, the group found themselves at the edge of a stream. It trickled across worn stones, but the peaceful sound was muted beneath a chorus of crickets. Beside it, the roots of an old, twisting tree drank from the cool water. Patchi swung onto one of its branches and scaled the trunk limb by limb as if they were a set of stairs. Diego and Melee watched from the ground as Jaycent followed less gracefully, his feet slipping once or twice. Levee picked up the rear, her climb steady but cautious.
At the top of the tree was a simple, wooden platform where Patchi took a seat. Both Jaycent and Levee looked at one another in surprise. From the ground, neither of them had seen or even suspected such a thing perched high within the trees.
“This is a pallet for our sentries,” Patchi explained. “Many nights my people spend out here, watching and protecting what is precious to us.”
“Clever,” Jaycent mumbled as he joined the others in a cross-legged seat facing one another.
Patchi grinned. “Tell me why you have come, Connor Prince.”
“I have questions that I fear only you can answer.”
“Grave they must be for you to seek my counsel alone and at night,” Patchi observed. “What distresses you?”
“Underground creatures have been straying from their holes as of late and venturing out into our territories.”
“So they have,” Patchi's smile faded. He cast a distant glance toward the ground below. “Some come alone; others in droves. My people no longer sleep without a weapon close at hand. Many stay in the cities where your walls keep the monsters at bay.”
“They aren’t simply a handful of strays wandering to the surface, then…” Jaycent didn't bother to mask the disappointment in his voice. “For them to enter our grounds in such great number hints toward a hidden intent.”
“Aye. I suspect there is a mastermind behind it all, though I have yet to ascertain who,” Patchi laced his fingers together, his insightful gaze peering over them. “But this is not the only reason you have come here seeking my counse
l, is it?”
Jaycent hesitated. In every dealing he had ever had with Patchi, the enigmatic leader always managed to be at least one step ahead. Could it be that the gypsy who had answered his riddle at the Armed Maiden knew who he was? Or did Patchi merely hear about the odd event and put the details together?
Either way, it didn’t matter. Jaycent was here now and the only way he was going to find a solution was by being honest with Patchi. The prince turned to Levee and whispered, “What I am about to say does not leave this platform. Should any word of it leak into the public, I shall know from whose lips they came.” She gave a solemn nod, and Jaycent returned his attention to Patchi. “I was told you interpret dreams.”
“Aye, if the dreamer is gifted,” Patchi confirmed. “What is it you see in your sleep, Connor Prince?”
Jaycent explained his recurring nightmares and the blood-eyed wolf that sometimes entered them. He lifted his sleeves to reveal shallow cuts that crisscrossed his arms and Levee had to cup a hand over her mouth to hide her mortification.
His body didn't testify to figments of imagination. Claw marks marred his skin as if everything he recounted had actually happened. Patchi pressed a pair of fingers over his mouth like a steeple while he studied the grim evidence. His frown grew ever deeper when Jaycent mentioned the similarities in the knight he saw behind the Armed Maiden.
“These are no mere dreams,” Patchi murmured under his breath.
“Evidently,” Jaycent's tone was tight with frustration and fatigue.
“T'is a vision,” Patchi elaborated, “though why you are having them concerns me greatly. We cured you of this burdensome gift when you were a child.”
“Aye, and your method worked until about a month ago.”
“This wolf,” Patchi shook his head. “It is a powerful omen. An enemy beyond any strength you have ever witnessed lies ahead of you, Connor Prince. If you do not outrun him, he shall defeat you and all that you hold dear.”
“So you are saying the wolf is real?” the prince smirked.
“Aye, but he is more than a wolf. You have seen his true form once already, albeit hidden behind the armor of a soldier that is likely dead.”
Jaycent thought back to the report several weeks ago of two guards who went missing, along with the soldier whose eyes were the last thing he saw before falling unconscious in the alley. A bead of sweat began to form upon his brow as his heart began to gallop inside his chest.
“What is this demon, that he is capable of walking my streets and haunting my dreams?” he asked.
“Do you believe in gods, Connor Prince?” the gypsy inquired.
Jaycent was testy. He had taken a bold risk by seeking Patchi’s counsel, and he wanted answers, not superstitions. “I have a hard time believing in what I've never seen.”
“Ah, but you have seen! The problem is what you see, you do not perceive.”
“What do gods have to do with the wolf in my dream?” Jaycent puffed.
“Everything,” solemnity suppressed Patchi’s energy. “Below you stands a beast whose very spirit was woven in the hands of the goddess, Tennakawa,” he paused as Levee and Jaycent glanced down at Diego, his silver eyes reflecting against the moon’s light. “A unicorn’s gifts and wellspring of magic are as powerful as they are sacred.”
“I am not into mystics, gypsy,” Jaycent sighed. “Skip over the mythology and just give me an answer; something concrete.”
Patchi closed his eyes and shook his head, but, thankfully, a deep breath renewed his patience. “Your dreams are part of a gift inherited through the same magic that gives your companion, Diego, life.
“It enables your spirit to walk the Veil that curtains our world from the realm of the gods. There, time itself exists all at once. What was, what is, and what will come to be... Your spirit has the ability to glimpse it all in a way that looks and feels like a dream.
“But recently, a dark magic has broken the seal that suppressed this ability. When your enemy did this, he also gained a foothold into your mind.
“This wolf is an illusion; a specter of the true enemy. To defeat him, you must first gain control of and hone your innate abilities. Only through the blessings of Tennakawa can you accomplish this. Unless you perfect your magical talents, this red-eyed foe will consume you and Nevaharday alike.”
The prince grew more irritable in spite of Patchi's efforts. “So that is it? My fate and the fate of my kingdom depend upon me learning how to control this ‘gift’ before it kills me and then begging a goddess for her blessing?”
“Try to take this one step at a time. Start by looking into the past,” Patchi advised. “Learn what used to be a part of rahee, but now no longer is. Then find it within yourself.”
A single, elegantly arched eyebrow rose high upon the prince's brow and Levee realized Patchi might as well be speaking ogre.
“Look in the library,” Levee suggested. “I think what Patchi means to say is the skills you need to defeat the wolf were once common among rahee in the past. We’ve just forgotten them.
“If I were you, I’d start by delving as far back into our people’s history as you can. See if the ancient scrolls mention anything that stands out.”
“Indeed, Melah,” Patchi slapped his knee, thrilled that at least one of them understood.
Jaycent still wasn't convinced. The gypsy's obscure language had brought little clarity over what the wolf even was. Either Patchi was daft, or he saw something that logic alone could not.
The prince didn’t like it, but this odd insight was the only lead he had for what was happening. All he could do now was give it a try. At best, it would lead to some sort of insight. At worst, he’d waste a day in the musty stacks of the palace library.
“Very well, I will do as you bid,” the prince consented. “But how do I find this wolf when the time comes?”
“That, I do not know,” Patchi sighed. “I suspect he shall reveal itself in time. Your task is to be ready when he does. For now, focus on gaining control of your ability. I will do my best to uncover answers from beyond Nevaharday’s walls.”
“How is it you know so much, Patchi?” Levee inquired.
“That answer, along with many others, resides within the past,” the enigmatic leader answered. “You may seek me if you need further counsel,” Patchi rose to his feet, signaling the end to this strained meeting, “but in turn you must trust me, Connor Prince. So long as this enemy exists, it threatens both of our territories. Let us put aside our differences for now and work together to address this foreboding threat,” Patchi held out his hand in an effort to seal the feeble foundation of an alliance.
“Trust is earned, Patchi, but if we stay honest with one another I believe we can find peace in this common ground,” Jaycent returned with a firm shake.
It was enough to satisfy the two leaders. They abandoned the platform for solid ground and the group returned to the checkpoint where they bid farewell. As Levee and Jaycent mounted their steeds, the sentries were thrilled to see the prince on his way. They offered a goodbye full of animated waves and fake tears.
Jaycent smirked. Politics forced him to take the ridicule with a grain of salt, but it didn't shield his ego. “And you wondered why I had you do the talking,” he muttered to Levee.
When she didn’t respond, he stole a glance at the girl riding beside him. Levee’s eyes were distant, her lips dipped in a worried frown.
Jaycent nudged her with his elbow. “What is the matter?”
“It's later than I thought,” Levee fretted. “Milo must be worried sick.”
“All of that talk of gods and omens, and your biggest worry is arriving home late?” Jaycent rolled his eyes. “I will escort you. Everything will be fine.”
“I think the Prince of Nevaharday delivering me to my doorstep would do more harm than good in Milo’s eyes,” she confessed.
“The blame for your tardiness is mine and I shall bare it,” the concern in her tone irritated Jaycent. “Who is this rah
ee that he holds such sway over you, anyway?”
Levee's auburn brows knitted together. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I assumed he was your mate, the way you listen to his every beck and call. But when you said his mother adopted you, I became uncertain. Is he a mate, a brother… a perhaps just a lover?”
Ruffled by his obtrusiveness, Levee replied, “I am nobody's lover.”
“Kaliano, Melah,” the way he spoke the old tongue so casually made Levee's cheeks tinge without warning. Something about the playful dip in his voice carried a dangerous allure. She didn’t know what to make of it, only that it made his nearness become unnervingly apparent. Levee subtly shifted her mare a few steps to the right, her lips pressed nervously shut.
Jaycent, too, felt the sudden change in energy between them. It stirred a warmth inside of his spirit, but he quickly lassoed those emotions and tucked them away. Smiling, he said, “I meant no offense. I was only curious to know your relationship with the Sarrokian.”
“Milo is a friend,” Levee's voice wavered with uncertainty.
“Just a friend?”
“Well, he is courting me—I think.”
Why was this so hard to admit? Levee thought to herself. She continued to stumble over an explanation, her words echoing a reluctance to own Milo's favor until Jaycent's cool, blue eyes settled perceptively upon hers.
“He loves you,” Jaycent's tone was disarmingly platonic. Levee's ears drifted to attention. “It's true,” he assured. “The boy can't help it. His heart proclaims itself on his countenance. He would take fine care of you, if you chose him.”
Love. Levee mulled over the word, still uncertain of its meaning. Did it come with comfort and security? Or was it alarmingly magnetic, like the strange energy that sometimes emanated from the prince and flushed her cheeks?
“The night is growing long,” she said. “We should make haste to New Haven.”
Jaycent pursed his lips, concealing his grin when Levee urged Melee into a canter. He intended to keep Levee close for a list of reasons that grew longer every day. Securing her knowledge of the mounting danger within Nevaharday's borders remained at the top of it. Not to mention the invaluable insight she could bring in understanding Patchi’s cryptic advice.
The Rogue Trilogy Page 16
