The Rogue Trilogy

by Elizabeth Carlton

  “Why?” Elessara wondered.

  Rayhan gave a helpless shrug. “I wish I had an answer. There is a long trail of politics behind it, but it is riddled with gaps. All I know is it started with a disagreement between the Connor family and the gypsies' leader.”

  “What of your other brother?”

  “Kaden,” there was a soft spot for this one. It showed in the way the captain’s attention drifted toward his goblet. “He works as a page within the castle.”

  “He didn’t want to become a soldier like you?”

  Rayhan shook his head. “He would rather be a bard,” the captain grinned. “He could, too. The boy has the voice of a songbird, but with Shaynin gone and myself sworn to service, King Donovan prefers he find a place to serve within his court.”

  “As I get to know you, Captain, I find it hard to understand why you became a soldier.”

  Rayhan tried to look surprised, but it was clearly feigned.

  Elessara pressed on. “My father always said the best warriors knew how to separate themselves from their emotions, yet you wear yours for the world to see.”

  “That is because I do not view my emotions as a weakness.”

  “Unless an enemy is interrogating you.”

  He tipped his glass in her direction. “A single exception, yes. However, I express what I am feeling because I can. Not because I cannot help it.”

  The historian poured herself another glass before refilling the captain’s. Suddenly, Nadel stood, drawing their attention. He had been watching a handful of elves sitting four tables down from the pair, all of which were standing as well. They began to approach Rayhan and Elessara when Nadel cut them off.

  The captain rose to his feet and Elessara moved to do the same, but the rahee placed a hand on her shoulder, urging her to remain seated. “Let me see what they want first,” he advised her before calmly joining Nadel’s side.

  “What are you doing with the general’s daughter, horse-ear?” one of them demanded.

  Nadel stepped forward, his red uniform commanding respect. “She has been assigned as Captain Mendeley’s escort for the duration of his stay in Whitewood. All of this is approved by King Mekkai, and Elessara is perfectly fine with it.”

  “Somehow I have difficulty believing that.” The elf was a lord of about average height with tapered eyes and a sharp nose. He wore a braid like a circlet around his head. His robes were thick and expensive.

  “Would it comfort you to ask her yourself?” Rayhan asked.

  “I am more interested in seeking General Redwood’s opinion,” the elf frowned. “I doubt he knows of this.”

  “And when did my duties become my father’s concern?” Elessara shoved herself between Nadel and Rayhan and poked the lord in the chest. “This is a task given to me by the king, Lord Fernblade. Focus your concerns elsewhere instead of burdening my father with your petty gossip.”

  Rayhan bit the inside of his cheek to stifle his laughter. Leave it to a general’s child to set a lord in his place. Still, the elf made a valid threat. General Redwood was known to have a personal vendetta against anyone bearing the Mendeley name. Rayhan would not give the lord a reason to test the strain of General Redwood’s patience.

  “I think I should retire for the evening,” the captain announced. “It has been a long day.”

  The hint of a smile twitched at Lord Fernblade’s lips. Elessara dipped her chin, and Rayhan could have sworn he’d caught a hint of disappointment. He nodded politely to the elves before taking the key offered by Nadel. “Have a good night, gentlemen.”

  He held out his hand to Elessara, which she took with little hesitance. He then bowed to kiss the back of her hand, his eyes never leaving hers. “Dream well, Lady Elessara,” he said. “Perhaps one day I will have the honor of showing you my city.”

  “Captain!” Lord Fernblade’s voice reminded Rayhan of a screeching bird.

  He paused, one hand on the stairway's railing. “What is it now?”

  “General Redwood will hear of this… lack of formality,” he threatened.

  “What lack of formality?” Rayhan’s demeanor hardened.

  “Your subtle advances toward Lady Elessara,” he explained. “It is out of line.”

  “On the contrary, Lord Fernblade,” the rahee walked back down the stairs, his calm steps leading straight to the elven lord, “my offer was extended honorably, without any hidden meanings. Lady Elessara has sacrificed her day to show me King Mekkai's city. It is only proper I offer her the same on behalf of my uncle’s kingdom. Or do you disagree?”

  “I find everything about you disagreeable, Mendeley,” he hissed. “Your race, your surname, and every drop of animal blood coursing through your veins. You may be a captain, but that doesn't mask the truth. A beast in fine clothing is still a beast.”

  Rayhan’s ears flicked back, his brown eyes fixed upon the lord who cursed him. “You misjudge me, sirrah.”

  “No, Captain Mendeley. I am here to judge you.” Lord Fernblade’s hand appeared from the folds of his robes, and the glimmer of a blade caught Rayhan’s eye. Nadel moved to intercept, but the captain was quicker. His hand rose to grab the elf’s wrist. The dagger lingered barely a centimeter from his gut, its trembling tip starving for its mark.

  Rayhan twisted the lord’s wrist, forcing the dagger from his grip. It clattered to the ground as Rayhan’s free hand found his would-be murderer’s throat. His fingers clutched the elf’s neck like the jaws of a cougar.

  “Rayhan,” his right ear tilted at Elessara’s pleading voice. When his eyes strayed from the lord, he saw every elf in the inn had crowded around him. He stamped his boot upon the dagger before passing Lord Fernblade off to Nadel.

  “Does anyone else have ‘justice’ to serve?” he demanded of the crowd.

  None replied.

  The captain bent down to grab the blade that was meant for him. “The man you seek to sentence is dead. I am not here for bloodshed or vengeance.” He waved the dagger hilt first above his head. “This is not my goal. Anyone can be angry; anyone can kill. It takes great discipline to temper your anger and direct it toward something good.” He took a moment to gaze upon all of the faces gathered around him. “I am furious, just like you. Fathers, mothers, and children died in a war born from false accusations and hearsay. However, we can repeat the past or we can learn from our mistakes. I want future generations to know the peace we once held. What is your desire?”

  He handed the weapon to Nadel before gazing upon Lord Fernblade.

  “Killing me will not end your grief. It will only create more of it.” He nodded for Nadel to take the lord away. His eyes didn't leave the pair until they disappeared out the door. Then he turned away, pausing only to rest his hand briefly on Elessara’s arm. “I am sorry this happened,” he said before heading up the stairs.

  As he retired to his room, he managed to catch Elessara’s whisper.

  “So am I.”

  * * * * *

  Night settled in, deep and quiet. The muffled sound of crickets singing a rhythmic chorus drifted through the window. Their song cradled the captain in a deep sleep.

  Nadel dozed in the bed across from his, his hand tucked beneath his pillow while he slept face down upon the bed. Neither of them heard the door to the adjoining room open nor the nearly soundless footsteps that followed. It took a gentle tug at the edge of the captain’s blanket to jolt him awake. Rayhan’s hand leapt like a viper toward the movement, his fingers curling around an arm in an iron grip before he was awake enough to register it.

  He sat up, his face only inches from the figure beside his bed. His senses stirred and he recognized the startled gaze of—

  “Elessara,” Rayhan quickly released her. He blinked until he was certain it was her crouched in front of him. “What are you doing in here?” he whispered.

  She tugged his blanket again, more insistently this time. “Follow me. I need to show you something.”

  Rayhan rolled from the bed to his feet
and reached for his tunic draped neatly across the chair. Without his regalia, the captain looked very different. His thick hair was wavier without the touch of a brush. Beyond the horse-like ears, his features were human, yet he didn’t feel like one. Despite his calm demeanor, there was something wild about the rahee’s nature; a sense of instinct that stirred Elessara. He dressed himself quickly to remedy his indecency in her presence.

  “What is so urgent that it could not wait until dawn?”

  “You will see,” Elessara turned and walked back through the adjoining door. Rayhan’s steps were tentative, his expression unsure as he followed the elf into her room. She approached the balcony which held a stairway leading down behind the building. “This way.” Elessara tip-toed down the steps, the captain in tow.

  “What are you showing me?” he whispered.

  “You will know it when you see it.”

  Rayhan and Elessara stepped off the beaten path into trees entangled like a weave of ballroom dancers. They walked through the starlight and into the darkness where only her elven eyes could guide them. Two palms found an oddly perfect fit as their figures melded into shadows of the night. Where they were going, the captain didn’t know, but as they drew nearer he felt a calling in his soul. It resounded wordless and without voice, yet he understood it with pristine clarity.

  “Elessara…”

  “Shhh,” he felt more than he saw her finger slide over his lips.

  Rayhan's hand tightened around the elf’s as he mimicked her steps through a maze of trees he could hardly see. He held his free hand out in front of him just to gain his bearings. Then, suddenly and without warning, he stumbled into an open copse where silver moonlight spilled over them.

  It was wide and open with a lake in the middle ground. The inn must have been on the border of Whitewood for a place like this could only be found near the northern mountains. A small flow of water trickled out of a climb of rocks into the lake, its gentle sound calling Rayhan toward it.

  He walked around, searching for some sign of what made this place so special. Nothing around them seemed unusual, but he could feel the unseen truth.

  “What are you looking for?” Elessara asked.

  “I don’t know,” he whispered, afraid to break the tranquility of this hidden place.

  “But you feel it…”

  “Yes.”

  Elessara tugged him toward the lake. Grass dissipated into sand as they approached the water’s edge. Once there, she pulled the amber stone from around her neck and breathed into it, illuminating the jewel.

  Rayhan watched, speechless, as she knelt beside the water. The elf still wore her riding tunic and chaps which she had no inhibitions about getting wet. She waded a few steps into the water, searching for something.

  “What are you looking for?” The captain asked.

  She stuck her hand in the water and pulled from its depths a quartz arrowhead. It was an old piece, its edges dulled from years of resisting the water’s current. But the arrowhead was whole and like the lake, it remained remarkably clear.

  “This used to be hallowed ground for the tribes when they first arrived from over the mountains,” she explained. “A rahee brought my mother here once she had earned her trust. She said these waters had been blessed by Tennakawa who had chosen to dwell here with them. They stayed in this place for over a century as friends of Whitewood.”

  Rayhan stood there in silence, his focus on the sparkling reflection of the moon over the water. Elessara placed the arrowhead in his hand then closed his fingers, her palm clasped around his.

  “There was peace between our people once,” she said. A warmth spread between them as their eyes met, and Rayhan wondered if it moved her the way it did him. From the moment he first saw Elessara, he had found her beautiful, yet here beneath the light of the moon that attraction heightened tenfold.

  “You feel it, don’t you,” Elessara pulled away to look at the tranquil lake before them.

  “What I feel unnerves me, my lady,” he knelt and ran his hand across the surface of the water in an effort to tear himself away from her enchantment.

  The elf joined his side, her arms crossed over her chest in what Rayhan was beginning to recognize as an emotional shield. “I confess, I led you here for more than just inspiration.”

  Rayhan offered a forgiving smile. “I expected as much.”

  “When I brought other historians to this lake, none of them felt anything out of the ordinary. Yet you did.” Elessara’s voice grew softer, her wonder tempered with caution. “There is something phenomenal taking place here, Captain. No one seems to sense it but me, and now you. I was hoping you could help me understand it.”

  Rayhan gave a helpless shrug. “Tennakawa is a mystery, Elessara. My people rarely commune with her anymore, but even when we did, we could never predict or explain her. She acts upon an agenda we cannot perceive.”

  “Yet standing here, you know this is holy ground,” she pressed.

  “Of course,” he agreed. “Is it not obvious?”

  “Apparently, only to us.”

  “Why, I wonder…”

  Elessara began to tug her tunic over her head.

  “Whoa, wait. Hold on—” Rayhan grabbed her hands, holding them in place over her stomach. “What are you doing now?”

  “Your people said these waters are holy. I want to test that theory.”

  Rayhan’s eyes widened. “Now? With me standing here?”

  “It is your goddess, Captain. I expect you to join me.” She watched him try to speak for several seconds, but nothing coherent came out. “What if this goddess can show us how to revive the peace between our kingdoms?” She tugged the fabric over her head and untied her belt, removing her chaps until only her undergarments remained. “You may have moved a soul or two today, but we need something big on our side if we plan to bridge the gap between our people.”

  The captain sighed. If Nadel or another guard caught them, he would likely be imprisoned. However, Elessara had a point. Right now, Rayhan was sailing a sinking ship. He calculated the risk. It was night, and it would take hours for Nadel or anyone else to find them. By then, they would be long gone from this excursion.

  “Fine,” he said. “But do not get your hopes up. This is lore we are chasing.”

  She waded into the water, completely ignoring his warnings. “And this is research.”

  The captain stripped his shirt from his chest, then his pants, thankful Elessara’s back was to him. He then waded into the lake and joined her as she stood waist-deep inside the water.

  “What would your people do now?” she whispered.

  Rayhan glided into deeper waters and dipped his head briefly below the surface. When he came up, he wiped the cool droplets from his face. “I suppose we would wait.”

  Elessara treaded water as the captain dove beneath the surface, his figure easy to follow beneath the clear water. He was dodging her attention. The historian made him shy from his natural confidence.

  Elessara's eyes followed him on the surface. Like the spirit around them, her presence felt vividly intimate to Rayhan. It was a strange and revealing sensation. He felt her tense though she waded several feet away. He sensed her swim into the shallows where she planted her feet, and he knew without a doubt that something made her nervous.

  “Is something wrong?” Elessara turned to find he had surfaced right behind her. She gasped, her feet sliding against the slick algae beneath her. She swung out her arms but Rayhan caught her, his strong grip pulling her safely against him. “Careful.”

  Goosebumps trickled across their skin as they became keenly aware of the press of their bodies against one another. Elessara stared at her slender fingers squished against his chest. She curled them slowly into her palm and watched the captain take a deep breath.

  “We should head back…” Rayhan’s vain attempts at chivalry drifted into silence as they stared at one another, their bodies tense with a strange, new desire.

  �
�Forgive me,” Elessara said. Before Rayhan had time to think, she curled her arms around his neck and rose onto her toes, kissing him in a way that nearly made his knees buckle.

  Rayhan wrapped two confused arms around her back, his ears drifting slowly against his wet hair as his fortitude crumbled into desire. For someone who swore love had never touched him, he knew how to make a woman swoon. Strong lips brushed hers apart, his tongue caressing hers.

  Then something even more extraordinary happened. The present fell away, the sensation of their kiss lost to visions of a life Elessara never lived, in a city she’d never been to. There was the terrifying cry of General Mendeley, and a boy no older than six standing before him with a dirk held in both hands.

  “Father, it’s me!” The words, spoken from a juvenile version of the captain pressed against her, broke her heart in two. “Stop,” he begged, his arms trembling under the weight of his fear. Somehow Elessara knew this was where the courage of Rayhan Mendeley had been born. “Please, before you hurt someone…”

  Elessara felt the breath leave Rayhan’s lungs. She laced her arms around his back, her forehead pressed against his damp chest as the elf rode the memories with him. Visions of Rayhan as a teenager, bleeding and bruised as he sparred against his father’s relentless fury replayed in both of their minds. She heard the rapid thoughts pulsing through Rayhan’s head as he tried to find a way out of yet another forced duel. They were so different that their conversations often ended in fights just like this one.

  Rayhan hated them. She sensed it so distinctly. Yet time and time again he endured these grueling matches just to spare his family a worse encounter. Such was the fate of Rayhan the Responsible; Rayhan the Defender; Rayhan, the Selfless and the Brave.

  Did Rayhan ever do anything for own sake? She pondered that question, for none of the memories seemed to provide an answer.

  The world around them remained lost amidst brief windows in time. Old memories faded into a new series of visions. Blurry colors and shapes sharpened into two goblets of wine shared between Elessara and the captain. Rayhan wore a red silk tunic and she a matching dress. There were elven nobles around them, whispering and pointing, but neither of them seemed to care. They spoke like old friends, a series of shared glances revealing unspoken thoughts between them.