The Rogue Trilogy

by Elizabeth Carlton

  The night mare tucked her bearded chin against her neck, her horn held in defense as Skalabur towered over her, his nostrils flaring in an angry snort.

  Jaycent crawled toward the safety of the mountain wall as the two equines battled on. Skalabur let loose a deep, throaty bellow, and a reply echoed down from the cave from where he emerged. Jaycent struggled to get his feet beneath him as a familiar black shadow slid down the mountain slope. Diego’s hooves slammed loudly against the rock as he landed onto the cliff, ready for action.

  The night mare’s head drooped lower as she studied the new unicorn, his coat as black as hers. Despite the similar color, no one would mistake the two beasts as kin. Diego’s silver eyes and spiraled horn were too regal to be of any relation. He tossed his head and nipped her flanks, keeping the cornered mare in check. She lashed her tail at Diego’s face, but the stallion batted it away with his horn, his eyes glittering with confidence.

  Both the gypsy and the prince watched in grim silence as the unicorn king reared, his teeth bared to strike. The night mare angled her head to swipe across Skalabur’s breast, but Diego came at her from the side, his horn carving a gash across her stomach.

  She shrieked and stumbled, the lining in her belly now visible. Skalabur drove her backwards, his son mirroring his every move as the two stallions forced their enemy closer and closer to the plummeting drop.

  The dark mare aimed a disgusted glare toward the unicorn king, and Skalabur returned it by thrusting two diamond hooves into the crest beneath her jagged horn. Crimson blood flowed into matching eyes, and her legs scrambled in a disoriented attempt to keep her footing.

  The ill-fated mare understood what was next. She didn’t fight when Skalabur leapt toward her, nor did she move when the unicorn king plunged his crystalline horn into her heart. The night mare closed her eyes, accepting death as she slid from the cliff and tumbled to the rocks below.

  Levee let go of her mount, feeling the chestnut’s presence disappear from her senses as she broke the link between them. She patted the brave stallion, all the while whispering her thanks into his twitching ear. The chestnut pressed his head against her chest, soothed by the gypsy’s soft voice.

  Diego shook the blood from his horn and turned to check on Jaycent while Skalabur quietly observed Levee’s actions. His son had informed him Levee was gifted, like the prince. But he hadn’t suspected what that gift was until he began to hear her thoughts inside his head.

  It had been a long time since a speaker had walked among the herds. Levee lifted her eyes to meet Skalabur’s gaze, aware that he was contemplating her. Her expression—so kind; so sad; so innocent—left no doubt in his mind.

  Those eyes were not made for war, nor bloodshed, the unicorn thought to himself, knowing she would hear his words. Levee bowed her head and turned back to the chestnut stallion who breathed against the palm of her hand.

  “Horse-child,” Skalabur said aloud, his deep voice soothing to Levee’s ears. He towered over the gypsy’s five and a half foot frame, his bearded chin tickling her cheek. Levee tilted her head to meet the unicorn’s golden eye.

  “You saved our lives,” she whispered. Until now, it had all been a rush, her emotions shielded by the need to survive. Now that the threat was gone, the pain of watching innocent rahee and horses slain flooded Levee’s entire being. She sniffled as she tried to suppress the sobs that quivered in her chest.

  “And I must save them again,” Skalabur lamented. Diego tucked his neck under Jaycent’s arm and escorted him toward the unicorn king. “You both are no longer safe here now that the mimics’ master has found you.”

  “What are you saying?” Jaycent asked.

  “If you want to save your kingdom, you must first protect yourself,” the unicorn cautioned. “Both of you possess gifts most rahee have forgotten, and are capable of more than your young minds can fathom.

  “However, you are raw and untrained, and therefore weak against the enemy. As long as you linger here, he will hunt you. You must go somewhere safe where you can be properly trained or defeating him will be impossible.”

  A howl echoed against the mountain face from somewhere down in the valley, bolstering Skalabur’s statement. The two rahee shivered.

  “Seek Patchi’s tribe,” Diego suggested. “The re’shahna still remember the ways of your ancestors. They can teach you.”

  “You mean the gypsies?” Jaycent shook his aching head. “We were just there. The forest is swarming with mimics and other subterranean filth.”

  “Not the gypsies,” Skalabur corrected. “You will find you have much to learn, and relearn, princeling. The re’shahna are cousins of your rahenyan kin and what is left of the city that has slipped into legend.”

  Another wicked howl, this one closer, raised five pairs of ears.

  “There is no time to tarry. You must go,” Skalabur bid. “Follow the trail around the bend to the riverbank that splits the valley. There is always at least one sentry guarding the paths to the ancient ruins there. Speak with him and he will take you where you need to go.”

  “What about you?” Levee asked. “And Diego, and the herd?”

  If unicorns could grin, Skalabur’s would reach the tips of both ears. “Leave the night mares and their leader to us. We will remind them why they feared our kind in the first place.”

  The two rahee didn’t doubt Skalabur’s proclamation as the twilight and midnight stallions galloped down the mountain slope. The chestnut trailed close behind, his endurance renewed at the prospect of taking part in the unicorns’ mission.

  The prince ran a delicate hand across the blood smeared on his side, and then glanced at the narrow, snaking path that awaited them around the mountain bend. With a frown, he said, “Looks like our only route is forward.”

  RUNNING

  Nature was no friend to the fleeing pair. Jagged rocks rose up on either side of their path, forcing their eyes forward as they marched higher into the unbridled mountains. Rain pelted them from overhead as night sunk into place, its stars blotted out by the raging storm clouds. Around their feet mud ran like little rivers, making every step more precarious as the hike grew steeper.

  “Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Levee wiped a saturated tuft of hair from her eyes as she blinked through the raindrops. “Skalabur said we should be looking for a river set in a valley.”

  Jaycent sighed, his lashes dripping with flecks of rain as he peered up the climbing trail. “There has only been one path ahead of us since we parted ways with the unicorns.”

  “It’s getting cold,” Levee murmured. Jaycent cast a sympathetic glance her way. The rain had soaked them both to the bone, and the gypsy shivered violently against the chill. The wise would have long since taken shelter from the weather’s brutal cold, but they didn’t have that leisure. Distance was the only thing standing between them and whatever fate the savage wolf had in mind.

  So they trudged on, their backs bent against the biting wind. Their limbs grew numb as the chatter of their teeth was lost beneath the storm’s howl. Each time its call swept through the rocks and crevices, it brought back vivid reminders of the tragedy they’d left behind. From the dead eyes of the lost young soldier to Kotu’s betraying grin, Jaycent carried the memories with him until the heat of his fury dulled the effects of nature’s torrent.

  Their path veered in a ninety degree turn, opening up a view that commanded awe. Jaycent let his shoulder fall against the stone wall as their path suddenly snaked down into an open gorge. Trees and shrubs blanketed the landscape, broken only by the river cutting across its middle. To their left, a waterfall cascaded down into the valley, feeding the water’s flow.

  Levee drank in the sight, her heart swelling at the vast, beautiful haven. Although she couldn’t see any animals, her spirit sensed the presence of unicorn magic.

  “This is where the herds have gone,” she whispered. “I can feel a great number of them here, Your Highness.”

  “Good,” Jaycent push
ed himself toward the narrow walk leading to the valley floor. “Perhaps they can help us find this re’shahna we’re looking for.”

  Levee shook her head as she fell in step behind him. “Most elemental unicorns are not accustomed to horse folk. The mares will use their magic against us if we stumble across their young. We should keep our distance if we can.”

  The prince rolled his eyes. “Great. I’ll just add them to the growing list of unicorns that don’t like us.”

  A bemused smile claimed Levee’s lips. Tucking her arms in a cross against her chest to ward off the cold, she followed the prince down the winding path.

  The rain had slowly started to recede when their boots scuffed the valley’s surface, and a chorus of frogs welcomed them into a soggy crowd of trees. The sound of water rang like music to their ears, and Jaycent took Levee’s hand so they wouldn’t lose each other. Thick shadows forced the pair to rely more on their ears to guide them as they moved toward the rushing water.

  “This looks like a good place to wait,” the prince whispered. Levee lifted her chin over Jaycent’s shoulder to see the falls flowing over slabs of rock shaped like steps before plummeting into the river. The trees opened up around the falls while the thinning clouds offered patches of starlight that reflected against the water.

  “It’s magnificent,” Levee murmured.

  Jaycent let go of her hand. “Try to find some dry twigs near the base of the trees. I’ll see if I can scrounge up some wood dry enough to start a small fire.”

  Levee nodded. Rainy days made fires hard to start, but not impossible for those familiar with nature. She rummaged at the base of several shrubs and trees, pulling the driest twigs from their base. Where the prince would find even semi-dry wood, she couldn’t guess, but at least the effort kept their minds off their waterlogged armor and clothing.

  As she wandered deeper into the forest, she could hear the sound of hooves moving through the brush nearby. The unicorns’ magic barred her from hearing their thoughts, but Levee could feel their curiosity. Amused, she began to sing an old gypsy song to entertain her watchers.

  “‘Grant me a wish’ a horse prayed to the stars,

  ‘I only ask for one.’

  ‘For what, good horse, do you yearn?’

  the stars replied,

  surprised that he should want.”

  The soft pad off hooves against damp leaves sounded behind Levee, and she fought the urge to turn around. Instead, she knelt beside a small bush and carefully pulled dry twigs from its base to join her growing collection.

  “’Speed? Nay, of course not, hey!

  The wind cannot rival your run.

  And what more could beauty do for you?

  Grace is in your blood.

  So tell us, horse, what it is you wish?’

  The stars that night did scoff.

  ‘What is left that the horse has not,

  for you are the pride of Tennakawa.’”

  Levee hands fell still when she heard a set of hooves stray ever closer. Head bowed over her work, she flicked her ears back, listening to the unicorn’s approach.

  She did not dare look, though it was hard to hide her smile when an ivory horn fell into her peripheral vision. As a warm breath swept across her cheek, she continued to sing:

  “‘A voice, a voice,’ the horse replied,

  ‘Is all it is I seek.

  For the unicorns with their regal horns,

  can talk with the kind Two-Feet.

  Yet what of us, who serve peasants and kings,

  But have no voice to speak?

  What kind of kinship could we form,

  If my rider could talk to me?”

  Levee’s hair began to wave and dance as she felt the unicorn’s magic cover her skin like a blanket. Warmth revived her extremities until her shivering ebbed, then faded.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, flattered by the compassionate gift.

  The unicorn snorted and pulled away, its hoof beats receding back into the forest. Levee waited until she could no longer hear its steps before launching to her feet. Fists clenched around handfuls of kindling, the gypsy wove through the trees back to the falls.

  There she found the prince sitting on a worn stone with the ground cleared before him. At his side were several semi-damp logs which he whittled down to their dryer layers.

  Levee took a deep breath, suppressing her excitement over her recent encounter. She needn’t rouse Jaycent’s curiosity. Unicorns were secretive creatures, and it’d be a betrayal of the beast’s trust to share her encounter with others.

  “How did you find the wood so quickly?” Levee asked, diverting her attention to the prince as she settled cross-legged next to him, the kindling in her lap.

  “I found it between some rocks a couple of yards from the waterfall. There was a hoofprint carved into a stone beside it, which leads me to believe it belongs to the re’shahna sentries Skalabur was talking about. If we set camp here, we’re bound to draw the attention of one.”

  Levee nodded. The prince had hung his outer tunic on a nearby rock along with his mithril vest, giving Levee a clear look at the red burn where the night mare’s flames had singed his skin.

  “How bad is it?” Levee asked, nodding to the dark red streak on his side. Jaycent didn’t even bother to look. He shook his head, his dagger working the wood as he funneled all of his frustration and anger into whittling it down. “No, my armor caught the brunt of it.” Again, his face was hidden behind the long curtain of hair, making it hard for Levee to gauge his expression.

  “What’s on your mind, Prince?” Levee asked. Jaycent set the first piece of wood into the pit and started hacking at the next, avoiding the question. The gypsy placed a bold hand on his wrist, stilling His Highness’s work.

  The prince flipped his hair over his shoulder and perched the hand clinching his dagger on his knee. “Do you really need me to answer that?”

  “No,” Levee shrugged. “But I think you need to.” She slid the dagger and log from his hands and started to work the wood herself. “If not for your sake, at least for that of our firewood.”

  Jaycent tossed his hands in the air. “South of us, mimics, night mares, and whatever else the bowels of the earth have burped up are closing in on my city. At least one of my soldiers is dead and abandoned on the battlefield, while another—a traitor—likely runs free.

  “All the while I am fleeing like some coward into the wilderness. I have done some horrible things in my life, Levee, but I never thought I would ever do something like this. If tonight does not mark me an inadequate heir, I cannot fathom what would.”

  Levee stopped what she was doing long enough to draw the curtain of hair that started to droop over Jaycent’s face again. She tucked it behind his shoulder. “You did what Skalabur told you to do,” the gypsy reasoned. “Only a fool would ignore the unicorn king’s counsel.”

  The prince huffed. “How can I justify sitting here when the same enemy that nearly killed us now sets its sights upon my kingdom?” He shook his head. “I should have trusted my gut and turned our unit around while we still had time.”

  “You are dwelling on fruitless thoughts, Your Highness,” Levee warned. “Who is to say things would have turned out any differently? The wolf and his army could have been lying in wait long before we set out to investigate that camp. And even if abandoning the mission would have made a difference, making it back to Nevaharday in one piece wouldn’t prevent what is coming.”

  “I should still be there to face it alongside my people,” he stubbornly replied.

  Levee returned to the log in her hands, peeling away the wet layers. “One more person wouldn’t make a difference, even if that person is you,” she pointed out. Jaycent scowled, but Levee looked up at him with eyes full of understanding. “Rayhan’s a capable general. He can lead Nevaharday just fine as its steward.

  “The best thing you can do now is follow Skalabur’s guidance and find out who this so-called ‘Master’ is
as well as his weakness. That’s what we’re here for, and if that’s not a worthy cause for a prince, I can’t fathom what is,” Levee winked as she fed him his own words.

  Jaycent chuckled in spite of himself. “I am beginning to believe you enjoy humbling me,” he resigned. The gypsy placed the log in the pile next to the first and handed the hilt of the dagger back to the prince. Jaycent accepted it with a nod of thanks.

  Together, they managed a small fire and huddled close to it, sucking in its warmth for what it was worth. Their yawns grew longer as the hours transpired uneventfully.

  “Go ahead and try to sleep,” Jaycent offered. “I’ll take first watch.”

  Levee looked at the shadow-eyed prince and tried to guess how many nights he had gone without sleep. “No, it’s okay. I’ll take it. You could use the rest more than I can.”

  Jaycent leaned back so his head rested against the stone he used as a seat and stared into the dwindling flames. “It is better if I do not sleep.”

  A rustle seized their attention, drawing two sets of ears toward the riverbank. Their argument quickly died, and both rahee pulled themselves to their feet.

  “Who is there?” His Highness called into the night. When no response came, Jaycent repeated himself more forcefully. “I said who is there? Show yourself!”

  “Should not I be asking who you are?” Curiosity coated a thick accent that reminded Levee of Patchi’s. “You take my wood and set camp by my own.”

  Levee tilted her ears toward the bank across the river. “My name is Levee Tensley. Beside me is Jaycent Connor, Prince of Nevaharday. We didn’t mean to trespass, and we’re sorry if we upset you. Skalabur led us here. We seek the help of a people known as the re’shahna. Do you know of them?”

  A long pause drifted between the three, and for moment Levee wondered if the hidden stranger was still with them. A shuffle quelled her doubts and eventually there came a response. “I thought the prince of Nevaharday did not believe in myths.”