* * * * *
The rogue sucked in a breath as Levee’s shrieks filled the cavern. He pressed his ears back as her pain echoed endlessly through the tunnels, and it took every ounce of his will to stay his hand as Levee flailed against the grip of her captors. Whatever nightmares the illusionist king had placed inside her head, they were nothing short of agony.
Each one of her screams tore through him like a barbed arrow. His jaw quivered in a rage that he stifled until the veins bulged in his neck. He wanted to trust Patchi. If he was to follow the re’shahna leader, he had to have faith in his orders. Yet all the wisdom and patience in the realm could not have held the rogue back for long.
It was Levee who stopped him from intervening. In a display of defiance that dropped Jaspur’s jaw, she looked up at Shadow and retaliated. A sweep of magic fled from Levee so fierce it froze the king in place. Inside, it carried the unyielding demand for Shadow to disengage.
And he did! The gravity of their mission came into perspective as Jaspur watched Shadow stumble backward, a bewildered expression upon his gaunt face. Levee looked up at him, her chest heaving. Her eyes narrowed boldly as she silently dared the king to try his tricks again.
Jaspur looked to the other side of the cavern where he saw Patchi observing from the entryway across from his. The re’shahna met his gaze and subtly lifted a hand, signaling for him to hold. The rogue winced, but obeyed, reminding himself that the chief had as much to lose here as he did. Then he refocused his attention upon Shadow again, just as the king’s shock was fading into a devilish cackle.
“Impressive…” he purred.
Jaspur clenched his fists, and waited.
* * * * *
“I expected nothing less from you,” Shadow outstretched his arms. “It is why I brought you home in the first place.”
Levee shook her head in disgust, then immediately regretted it. Though waning, the unicorn’s tail still dizzied her senses. Her arms burned; a phantom pain left behind by the illusion that Shadow had turned her blood into acid. She tamed her trembling with the reassurance that none of it had been real. The pain, like the bubbling of her skin, had only been a trick of her mind.
“This is not my home,” she said through gritted teeth. “Not anymore. Whatever it is you want, forget about it. I won’t do it.”
“Come now. You haven’t even heard my proposition!” he laughed again, as if the ease in which Levee had forced him to dispel his magic had not rattled him at all. Even Darthek looked surprised.
“Perhaps another dose of unicorn’s tail is appropriate, Your Majesty,” the assassin suggested.
“No,” the king snapped.
Darthek nodded obediently and took a step back.
Levee inhaled and exhaled slowly to steady her nerves. She didn’t know what Tobiano and his friends had planned, but unless they said otherwise, she would continue to buy herself time. “Tell me your proposition.”
“Piqued your curiosity, have I?” the king mused.
“I won’t turn down the chance to know my enemies intentions.”
“My dear, I am not the terror you think I am,” Shadow stroked her hair and Levee scrunched her nose in disgust. She didn’t need her magic to see the vileness living beneath the re’shahna’s flesh. His body reflected the inside: pale, sick, and wanting.
“You revealed the monster in you when you murdered Nevaharday’s rightful king.”
“Your love for the dead prince blinds you,” Shadow scolded. “He did not know the rahee’s true value. They were a great people once, just like the re’shahna.”
“They still are a great race,” Levee corrected. “The fact that you cannot see it proves you’re not fit to lead them.”
“Oh, but I do see their value…” Kneeling in front of Levee, he studied her like one would a fine pedigree. “Just look at you.”
Levee met that look with hatred. “What point are you trying to make?”
A lascivious gaze swept over Levee that had her yearning to claw those red eyes straight out of Shadow’s sunken face. “Gifts like yours used to be commonplace before your ancestors threw them away. Their cowardice led them to raise generations blind to their true potential. When I claimed this kingdom as my own, I chose to make it better, but your people are soft. What you all see as cruelty is merely refinement.”
“If you thought killing Jaycent and claiming his throne as the people’s tyrant would inspire loyalty, you’re sorely mistaken,” Levee’s tone was flat, her ears pressed back.
“Of course not! That was meant to inspire fear,” he growled and Levee flinched before she could stop herself. “In order to understand my actions, you must understand the greater picture. Jaycent was… a limitation.”
“He was no such thing,” Levee argued.
“He was certainly not the kingly sort.”
“Which is why he was perfect for the job.”
Shadow wore an amused expression. “Do continue.”
“The prince didn’t care about raising the hackles of the high-born,” Levee explained. “He just cared about doing what was right. He saw the way of the re’shahna. He meant to bring it all back to his kingdom. Had he been given the chance, Prince Jaycent would have…” her voice cracked.
Shadow’s grin widened. “He would have what?”
“He would have changed Nevaharday for the better.”
“My, how you sell yourself short!” the king lamented. “The Connor Prince was unsteady; unpredictable. He hardly knew how to wield himself, much less the power he inherited. But you… My dear, you are different. I am a figure of authority the rahee should rightly fear, whereas you are the type they yearn to serve! Together, we can lead the rahee to the very same enlightenment you so passionately described.”
Levee eyed him skeptically as she tried to piece together the truth behind this obvious lie. Shadow cared nothing for the rahee in Velagray. He viewed himself as above them, so why would he want to give them inspiration? Wouldn’t that negate the fear he’d worked so hard to ingrain?
Unless…
“You don’t want to help the rahee,” Levee assumed. “You want to use them. Right now, they fear their tyrant. It forces them into obedience, but cowering dogs are useless to you, aren’t they? My guess is whatever you really want requires Velagray to amass under one banner, but you need a puppet to earn their loyalty. Someone they will follow blindly into anything.”
Shadow shrugged. “I offer you wealth, power, and the chance to help your people.”
“You offer me servitude,” Levee spat. “I won’t be your pawn.”
Shadow’s expression hardened and a frown curved under his hawk-like nose. He crouched before Levee’s kneeling frame and stroked her cheek. “Perhaps some time alone will make you reconsider.”
Once again, Levee felt the assault of Shadow’s magic. This time it overwhelmed her. The cavern grew dim in her eyes, and a sense of overwhelming dread filled her heart, though she wasn’t sure why. Not yet. Fear embraced her, whispering that she would find out soon enough.
“Tie the little mongrel up,” Shadow said to Darthek.
The assassin nodded and the king motioned for his entourage of soldiers to join him as he turned away, leaving Darthek to chain the gypsy to a post carved out of a crooked stalagmite.
Cold shackles snapped against her wrists and Levee knew it was Shadow’s magic that made her afraid when Darthek and his two henchmen began to walk away, too. Still, that knowledge did nothing to dispel her terror as she was left alone in the yawning cavern. She yanked against her shackles, hyperventilating in an inexplicable panic as they disappeared down one of the four tunnels connected to her prison.
The gypsy cowered toward the stalagmite’s base, her chains dragging along the ground as she pressed her back against the stone. There upon the floor, she listened to Darthek’s footsteps gradually dissipate until all that was left was painful silence. Closing her eyes, Levee tried to still the pounding of her heart.
“Breathe,
” she whispered to herself. “Shadow wouldn’t drag you here just to let you die underground.”
She almost believed her own words. Then, somewhere deep within one of the tunnels, the hoots of hungry mimics changed her mind.
WHEN GHOSTS RETURN
Jaspur pressed himself as deep as he could into the tight cleft near the tunnel’s entrance as Darthek and two humans stalked toward it. The re’shahna posing as a Velagran guard saw the threat coming and casually shifted his post in front of the tight space, his tall form shielding what small bit of torchlight touched the rogue’s hiding place.
Jaspur held cautiously to his dirk as the trio swept by them. He tilted his ears back, patiently waiting until his keen hearing could no longer pick up their departing steps. Only then did he free himself from the stone’s tight grip.
The rogue didn’t need to look to Patchi to know it was time to make their move. One glance into the cavern revealed to him that Levee was alone. Creeping between clusters of stalagmites, he made his way toward the chamber’s center.
It had been over a decade and a half since he had come face-to-face with his beloved gypsy. Yet Jaspur still knew Levee better than himself. Perhaps that’s why he could tell based on a look that something wasn’t right.
Levee’s ears went up as he approached and their gazes met, but it wasn’t Jaspur she saw. It was as if those wide green eyes stared through him at a monster that wasn’t there. No recognition traced her face, only terror. It echoed in a scream that filled his heart with dreaded understanding: Shadow had left her in a waking nightmare.
Tobiano and Patchi approached with wary steps, only to leap back when Levee whipped her chains in a desperate defense against allies she saw as enemies. The chief called her name several times, assuring her in a calm voice that they were friends, but Jaspur knew the sway of Shadow’s magic better than anyone. Nothing they said would matter because Levee could only see and hear the illusion Shadow placed inside her mind.
“This is bad,” Tobiano said to his companions. “These tunnels are not free of Abysmal creatures. The gypsy’s screams will draw true monsters to her location soon enough.”
Patchi turned and joined Jaspur’s side, giving Levee space as he pulled a lock picking kit from his belt.
“Shadow’s magic may be strong, but it is still dark in nature,” he whispered. “When facing light, it must always retreat.”
“So what must we do?” Tobiano asked when he overheard Patchi’s words.
“Take the darkness from her,” Jaspur answered. He shouldered his way between Patchi and Tobiano and went straight for Levee. She saw him coming and managed to raise her curled fists, but the rogue grabbed her by the wrists before she could gain enough momentum to strike a punch.
He pressed her back against the stalagmite, pinning her between his leather armor and the cavern’s stone. She fought against his strength—valiantly so—but she wasn’t strong enough to make Jaspur let go.
Tobiano and Patchi each took an arm, holding Levee in place while the rogue held her face in his palms. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips against her mouth, swallowing her screams as he reached deep into his core and breathed a bit of his own magic into her body.
The fight in Levee weakened. Patchi managed to pick one shackle open and the gypsy wrenched her hand free. She grabbed the strap of Jaspur’s leather breastplate, clinging to him as a stream of silver-blue light spread throughout her body.
Patchi squeezed around Levee’s trembling frame to her other hand, his fingers working nimbly to free her. Seconds later, a harsh click snapped the last shackle free and Levee tore her lips away from Jaspur’s mouth. Turning aside, she bent over and coughed profusely.
“Let it out, Melah,” Patchi encouraged. “T’is the curse your body is expelling.”
Levee’s ears turned toward her chief’s voice. Sure enough, the fear had dissipated along with the monsters in the dark. Her eyes lost their clouded stare as she registered the dim light of the torches once more. Levee took a shuddering breath as she slowly rose to meet her savior. Looking up, she noted the mahogany hair cut like a mane and began to thank who she thought was one of Patchi’s re’shahna.
But it wasn’t. He was a rahee. One Levee instantly recognized when she spotted those pale blue eyes. The familiar gaze set the gypsy back upon her heels, and she stiffened as the flush in her cheeks paled from red to white.
“Jaycent?”
* * * * *
Darthek marched toward the surface, leaving the gypsy in her hole. By the terms of his agreement, the assignment was completed. The assassin had delivered the goods unharmed just as King Shadow had paid him to do.
So why did he carry an unsettled feeling as he left the prisoner behind? Darthek wasn’t one to ignore his instincts. Backtracking several feet, he took one of the torches hung sparsely throughout the underground halls and began studying his surroundings carefully.
“Boss…?” one of the two men assigned to him stopped the other, confused by the assassin’s behavior.
“Shut up,” Darthek ordered. He sniffed the air, then walked the wall, searching for something the two henchmen couldn’t place. “The air carries a metallic scent…” he muttered. “Like iron, but not.”
“What is he talking about?” the second man muttered.
“Blood, you idiot,” the assassin explained as he discovered a tight alcove. Shining the torch’s light inside, he revealed a pile of dead guards covered in blood and picked like vultures. With a curse, he reached through the tight opening and dug through the bodies until he found a horn on one of the victim’s belts. Handing the torch to one of his men, he cut the article free and tossed it to the other. “Sound the horn to raise the alarm, then both of you go find your king. He needs to know his tunnels have been compromised.”
Darthek left the two men with their orders, drawing his dagger as he ran for the surface. Behind him the resounding hum of a deep horn filled the underground until it grew into a bellowing call that made the assassin pick up his pace.
He did not wear the king’s colors; nothing that would mark him as a friend to the beasts that call would summon. As wielders of the horn, the half-witted pair might survive, but he would need something more obvious to mark his allegiances.
Darthek needed to retrieve his hart.
* * * * *
Sadikaye had never heard of anyone riding a night mare before. Now he knew why as he clung to the harness he’d fitted over the creature’s chest, the flames of her mane pressing heat against his face. It was a good thing he was a strong rider. He hated to think what would happen if he leaned too close to those magical flames. Beyond the imminent risk of burning his face, the mare’s back was bony, leaving bruises and chafing in places he didn’t want to think about.
But if there was one advantage to this arrangement, it was her speed! Even though Kalitska held back her stride, Milo, Bry, and the others could barely keep up. With the night mare leading them now, Sadikaye hoped they would arrive in time to find and free his mother.
Ahead is the tunnel, Kalitska announced. But we must make haste, ’less we be too late.
Sadikaye nodded, then relayed the message over his shoulder. “There’s a tunnel ahead! Kalitska and I are going in!”
Milo shouted something in protest, but Sadikaye didn’t listen. He would surely receive a lecture for it, but he refused to slow for his mother’s sake. The mare galloped between two old posts, one half the size of the other, and carried them down a dirt road covered in weeds and overgrowth. Soon after, they entered the ruins of an old village. The mare skipped right, bounding over a broken wagon bed and cantering in a wide arc toward the remains of a mayor’s home.
The size of the foundation and its central location were the only reasons Sadikaye knew what it was. The rest of the structure was obliterated or in shambles. On the outside of one of the half-standing walls, he caught sight of the gray hart belonging to his mother’s captor. The creature was still attached to the caravan the men ha
d used to take Levee.
Leave the hart for your friends to find, Kalitska said. Our business is inside.
Sadikaye held tight and complied, even as Milo and the others started to catch up. He glanced over his shoulder and tried to gauge their distance as the mare made for the opening in the decrepit house floor.
“Sadi, look out!” Milo shouted.
The boy snapped his head back just in time to see a man darting up to the main floor, a dagger in hand. The stairwell was too narrow and time too short for Sadikaye to react. The human arched his dagger and Sadikaye winced as the blade sliced a shallow cut in his calf when Kalitska charged by. He cried out in pain as they disappeared into the tunnel.
“Oh, you’ll pay for that!” was the last Sadikaye heard from his father before they disappeared into the tunnel where the hungry cries of unseen monsters awaited them.
* * * * *
Jaspur didn’t have time to answer the thousand questions frozen upon Levee’s lips. A war horn belted a loud and moaning call that startled everyone in the cavern.
“We need to get you out of here,” the rogue stepped back and called upon his equine form right before Levee’s eyes.
“Wh… what?” she stuttered as she struggled to take it all in.
Jaspur grunted insistently as he motioned for her to hop on. Levee hesitated, but when the horn bellowed again and eager monsters replied, she found all the convincing she needed. Climbing onto Jaspur’s back, the gypsy attuned herself to his body. Jaspur jerked his head up as he suddenly became aware of her presence inside of him. He had known her gift made her one with her mounts, but to feel it firsthand was startling.
The rogue flared his nostrils, overwhelmed by the intimacy of her connection. He looked at her from over his withers. Lumiere glowed as a second horn beneath his own, illuminating her face. It was odd the way she could look at him, and yet look through him at the same time. Every stomp of his hoof; every twitch of his ears; she felt it while still completely aware of her own body.
The Rogue Trilogy Page 76
