Tobiano nodded. “My people will start making preparations now.” He offered his hand to the elf, who shook it firmly.
Finally, they were making real progress.
NO LONGER ALONE
Elessara. Jaspur walked between Deley and Tobiano as they made their way back to camp, his lips pressed into a pensive line. He hadn’t expected her name to fall into their plans. While Tobiano’s dealings with the elves had gone better than they could have hoped, it also meant that Deley was now far more involved than the rogue had anticipated.
“This path… t’will be arduous,” Tobiano said, penetrating his thoughts.
“Hm?” the rogue looked up, confused.
“Three days’ journey through difficult terrain leads to Moonridge,” the re’shahna reiterated. “The rest of us will hold you back, making that journey even longer.”
Jaspur squinted. “Are you suggesting a separate company departs ahead of our forces?”
Tobiano nodded. “I will have to confirm with Patchi when he awakes, but I believe t’is best that you, Sadikaye, and Deley go alone for the sake of discretion and time. Patchi and I can direct those who remain. T’will be a slow trek, especially now that we have women and children in tow.”
“Pardon me…” Deley tried to interject, but too timidly.
“Where do you intend to make camp next?” Jaspur asked, ignoring her inquiry.
“We will send out scouts to find a safe, discreet place near the city,” Tobiano replied. “Either Patchi or I will meet you in Moonridge once we are settled. You will likely be there days before us, so I urge you not to make any political decisions until we arrive.
“Also, I trust you will say only what you must, and only if you must. Elessara is well-versed in the history of our people. Far better than we are, in fact. It should not take much for her to piece the truth together.”
“Understood,” the rogue agreed.
Tobiano nodded, satisfied they were on the same page. “Get some rest, then. A long road awaits you both in the morn.”
Deley didn’t speak up again. Not even when they returned to the privacy of their tents. Jaspur’s gruff demeanor intimidated her, and she fidgeted nervously as he settled in a cross-legged seat against the fallen tree.
The rogue knew her inquiries about Sadikaye would come up again soon, but he had another discussion in mind. One that would satisfy her curiosity about Sadikaye and Rayhan while disclosing the awkward truth he knew was necessary for the task ahead.
Pulling the worn journal from his pack once more, the rogue pretended to flip through its pages. In front of him, Deley fell into a nervous pace as she gathered her thoughts. From the outside it seemed as though Jaspur was blatantly ignoring her.
But in truth, he was doing the same thing she was. Running a hand across the journal’s leather cover, Jaspur silently prepared himself for another heart-to-heart. In the span of days, he went from being utterly alone to being overwhelmed by his own unexpected relations.
His cousin had a daughter, and that daughter was now Jaspur’s apprentice. Beyond that, the rogue had a son he would have to groom into a reputable king. It wasn’t exactly the ideal way to acquire a family, but for a rogue who had spent nearly two decades alone, it was a second chance at the thing that once mattered to him the most.
That’s why he had to do this softly, and he had to do it right.
“Deley,” the sound of his voice froze the half-elf in mid-pace. Patting the space beside him, he said, “Come join me for a moment.”
She eyed him skeptically, but did as he bid, cautiously lowering herself into a seat on his right.
“I spoke out of turn earlier. I’m sorry—” Deley began, but Jaspur held up a hand, cutting her short.
“Sadikaye is, in fact, the heir to Nevaharday’s throne.”
Deley’s eyes widened, startled by Jaspur’s sudden bout of honesty. “I thought Milo was his father…”
“Adopted father,” he corrected. “Levee was Jaycent’s mate, whom he chose unbeknownst to royal courts, and even his closest advisor: Rayhan Mendeley.”
“My father…” Deley murmured. “But if Rayhan didn’t even know, how is it you do?”
Jaspur handed her the journal. She grasped it gingerly, uncertain where this was going. Ever since Deley had met the rogue a few weeks prior, he had carried this book around as if it were sacred.
“It was your father’s journal,” Jaspur quietly explained. “I happened upon it while searching for a scroll of particular importance.”
Tears immediately began to well up in Deley’s eyes and Jaspur started to second guess the wisdom of his plan. Had he made a mistake? Was this too much? He wasn’t exactly skilled at navigating emotions, particular ones as complicated as the revelations he faced today.
Clearing his throat, he opened the journal for her and flipped several pages in. Tapping the worn paper, Deley noticed it bore a sketch of her mother. “Ray wasn’t one for writing, but he sketched constantly. In a way, they were silent confessions more vivid than words. Go ahead, take a look. You’ll see what I mean.”
Deley pulled her knees up toward her chest and rested the journal’s spine between them. Jaspur watched, sensitive to her every movement and change in expression.
Lifting her thumb to her lips, she chewed nervously on its nail, her eyes glued to the pages. Each charcoal stroke was placed with intention, capturing Elessara’s loose curls, and even the delicate placement of her hands as she spoke to a diplomat of some import. Rayhan seemed to pay meticulous detail to Elessara’s facial expression, capturing the excitement in her eyes and the playfulness of her smile.
“I want you to keep it,” the rogue said. “He may not be alive today, but something tells me Rayhan meant for this book to find its way into your hands.”
Deley opened her mouth to speak, but barely managed a shuddering breath. The tears she held so firmly back now forced her chin to quiver. “Are you sure about this?” she asked, nearly breathless. “My father seemed to mean a lot to you—”
Her words faltered when she flipped the page.
Jaspur tensed as she glanced back and forth from the portrait on the new page to the rogue’s visage. He had planned this from the beginning, hoping it would make the confession easier. Yet he was nervous all the same. Confusion creased Deley’s forehead in baffled lines.
“This is you,” her voice was thick with emotion. Leaning back against the dead trunk, she studied the two dimensional figure lounging against the side of a barn.
Jaspur’s hair was long in the drawing and fashioned with braids that complemented the silver circlet on his brow. He wore a silk tunic, wrinkled by whatever mischief he had been up to that day, but his profile remained the same as it did now—nearly twenty years later.
“Aye,” he confessed. “Albeit a much younger version of myself.”
Deley shook her head. “I don’t understand. I thought the prince died.”
“He did,” Jaspur assured. “You were there. Remember?” He wondered how many times he would have this conversation, and if it would ever get any easier.
Deley chewed on the inside of her lip as she recalled Jaspur’s Awakening. How could she forget? The intensity of that night’s ritual was seared into her mind, as was the blood Jaspur shed so abundantly.
The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Jaspur’s strength and the way he carried himself was far more authoritative than a mere soldier. He held the respect of the re’shahna, and even their leaders. At first, she had attributed it to his unique talents with magic and his possession of Lumiere, but now the truth was right in front of her.
“Jaspur Clovenhoof is Jaycent Connor…” she murmured. “How did I not see this before?”
Jaspur snorted. “My own people do not recognize me, Deley. Why would you?”
After staring hard at the portrait her father did of Jaycent, she studied him again. If it hadn’t been for the profile and the way Rayhan captured his apathetic posture, Deley woul
dn’t have made the connection. He was thicker now, with a tired face coated in salt-and-pepper scruff. Without the silk garments and silver trinkets, Jaspur didn’t look like a prince, nor—
Her heart skipped at beat at the realization.
“You and my father are related?”
“Cousins,” the rogue confirmed. “But I always likened him more to a brother.”
“Does anyone else know who you really are?”
“Only a few. Patchi, Tobiano, Levee, Milo, Sadikaye… and now you.”
She nodded, and Jaspur noticed she was trembling.
“Are you upset?” he inquired.
Deley closed the book, her eyes watery. “No. Actually, in a way I’m rather happy.”
“Happy?” The rogue expected a wide arrange of emotions, but that was not one of them.
“I came all of this way in search of some connection with my father. Meeting you and receiving this?” she held up Rayhan’s journal. “It’s more than I could have asked for.”
Jaspur shifted uncomfortably. “Just make sure this stays between us.”
“You have my word.”
“You can’t even tell Elessara,” Jaspur pressed, his voice once again assuming its harsh tone.
Deley offered an enthusiastic nod, her heart pounding loud in her ears. “Of course. Not a peep…”
“Good.”
“…So long as you promise to tell me more about Rayhan.”
Jaspur smirked. “Are you blackmailing me?”
“Depends,” she giggled. “Is it working?”
Rolling his eyes, he retreated to his tent. “Goodnight, Deley.”
“Sweet dreams, royal rogue,” she whispered.
TO BE A FATHER
Sadikaye sat upon one of the rails of the makeshift corral, his fingers pressed against his temples as he squinted at the night mares huddled in the center. Many of them stared back at him, their red eyes brimming with bloodlust. In his head, he heard detailed promises of what would become of his fragile body should he release his hold just a bit.
Gritting his teeth, Sadikaye did not let his magical grip waver. He would not let the night mares’ threats get under his skin. Kalitska had shown him there was more to these creatures than blind violence. Once their minds returned, their opinion of Sadikaye would change.
Levee eyed her son from across the corral, her hand absentmindedly patting the sweaty flank of the mare she had just liberated from Shadow’s curse. Night had settled in, their eyes depending on the light given off by the flaming manes and tails of the creatures in the corral. Sweat beaded across Sadikaye’s brow and the veins on his neck were starting to show. He was straining hard, and they still had six more mares to go.
“Don’t wear yourself thin, Sadi,” she warned. “If you need a break, tell me. We’ll find a way to subdue them until morning.”
The boy shook his head, his gaze upon the mares never wavering. Levee, her own blouse drenched with sweat, understood his resolve. Every time she delved into the mind of one of these night mares, she felt the onslaught of agony they endured every waking second; a pain so fierce it literally drove them mad.
Taking a deep breath, she moved on to the next, forcing her magic into the creature’s consciousness as she tried to complete the task as quickly as possible. Sadikaye had already been keeping the night mares in check for over an hour; twice as long as she had suspected he could. Levee didn’t want to test the depths of his endurance any longer than they had to.
And for good reason.
Unlike his mother, Sadikaye was not a veteran at communing with equines. He had come into his gift late, and quite by accident. While Levee could speak to a variety of equines, Sadikaye only seemed to pick up on night mares.
“You hear the voices of demons, Sadikaye,” a wise re’shahna once told him. The notion unsettled the young rahee, and the night mares picked up on it.
Why do you consort with our kind, little rahee? asked one. Does darkness taint your heart, too?
Can’t you sense it? chimed in another. He harbors anger, that one. Conceal it though he might, the lies that keep it tethered will come undone. He will succumb, just like the rest of us...
Perhaps sooner rather than later? The first one fancied. He thinks himself quite righteous, ‘saving’ us from ourselves. But who will save him when the darkness finds him?
Sadikaye winced. It was true that he wished his gift was less selective. Even his mother found it odd. But Sadikaye was far from giving in to anger and malice. Closing his eyes, he did his best to ignore the mares as he envisioned the magic that held them at bay.
His mother had the more difficult job. She delved into the consciousness of each mare, facing the onslaught of emotional turmoil that was almost too much to bear. Sadikaye only had to keep his magical binds consistent.
Behind his eyelids, he saw the world in a different light. Silhouettes of the night mares flickered like licks of fire before him, the landscape muted in various shades of gray. Reaching out his hand, Sadikaye watched a wave of gold extend from his fingers, twisting like a lasso around the half-dozen equines.
Clinching his fist, he tightened his hold, eliciting angry whinnies from the remaining mares. As he held them still, Sadikaye noticed green tendrils lacing with his own, then coursing through the neck and into the mind of one of the mares.
Levee’s magic… She was both supporting him and cleansing the creature’s mind at the same time. Sadikaye couldn’t believe her strength. He felt his own body trembling as his magic ran low. It would be a long time before he reached her caliber, or his father’s.
The thought made Sadikaye falter. Had he really just referred to Jaspur as his father?
Suddenly, his focus was shattered by a rush of heat. He flicked his eyes open just as one of the mares broke free. She rushed him, horn poised for his chest.
“Sadi!” Levee’s own eyes snapped open as she sensed the mare’s defiance.
Rolling from the corral’s fence, Sadikaye landed in a crouch, his hand extended. Magic flared from his palm, ensnaring the mare in a shimmering net of gold unperceivable to the naked eye.
The mare froze, her muscles twitching as she fought against the magical bindings. Snorting angrily, she scuffed her cloven hoof into the dirt.
Panting, Sadikaye tried his best to hold his hand steady as his heart threatened to break out of his chest.
“Don’t lose focus, Sadi,” Levee reminded. “Not even for a second.”
The boy nodded as he tried to recover his nerve. His complicated feelings toward Jaspur had caused his guard to waver slightly. It was a tiny break in his concentration, but the mare had been waiting for just that.
There was a lesson in this, he knew. A crucial reminder that in some tasks, one could not afford to make mistakes. Tabling his thoughts, Sadikaye renewed his focus.
“Ready to start again?” Levee asked.
He nodded, his mind clear. “Aye.”
* * * * *
When Levee finally liberated the last of the mares, it was late. Both she and Sadikaye were drenched in sweat. The task had taken the majority of their magic, but the price was worth it. They now had thirteen night mares allied with them against Shadow. A small but mighty force that would certainly serve them well.
However, Levee worried about Sadikaye. It was a difficult task, but he had nearly lost his life with that one, small slip. She knew it bothered him, for Sadikaye hadn’t spoken since they started their trek back to camp.
Her son walked beside her, his teeth gnawing at the inside of his cheek.
“What were you thinking about when your control over the mare slipped?” Levee asked, careful not to sound accusatory. He had done well, in spite of the dangerous mistake.
Sadikaye offered an uncommitted shrug.
“Oh come on…” Levee bumped his shoulder, causing Sadkaye to stumble a few steps to their right. “Spill.”
Sadikaye’s serious countenance didn’t falter. Stepping in front of his mother, he forced h
er to come to a stop. Levee’s smile dissipated, her brow creasing together as she noted her son’s perplexed expression.
“Does Pa know that I know about… you know…”
Levee raised a curious brow. “I haven’t exactly had the chance to tell him.”
“How do you think he’ll feel when he finds out?”
Levee nodded over Sadikaye’s shoulder to where their tents sat illuminated by the fire. “Why don’t you go find out?”
“You want me to tell him?” the boy’s eyes doubled in size.
“It’s not like he doesn’t know who your actual father is, Sadi,” Levee chuckled. “He has wanted to tell you many times over the years. It was me that insisted we keep it a secret.”
“Why?”
Levee motioned to the hundreds now settled down to rest in the camp. “Look at where we are, Sadi. You have spent your entire life running from what we’re about to face. If our enemy knew Jaycent had a son, and that son was you, do you think we would have made it this far?”
Sadikaye fell silent. He certainly couldn’t argue that rationale. Still, he wanted to reassure Milo, and himself, that there were some things this revelation wouldn’t changed.
“I love my Pa,” he told Levee. “None of this changes the fact that he raised me.”
“Of course it doesn’t.”
“So why do I feel like I betray him every time I acknowledge Jaspur as my father?”
“Because you’re a good boy, Sadi,” Levee hugged her son before nudging him toward their tents. “Now go speak to Milo. I’ll check on the horses so you two have time to talk.”
Sadikaye hesitated. “What if it doesn’t go well?”
Levee smiled. “Have I ever steered you wrong?”
* * * * *
Milo was just about to settle down to sleep when he saw Sadikaye returning to camp. He looked exhausted, but there was something more to his gait. He carried a weight that had become so prevalent in this godforsaken battle against tyranny.
Readjusting his cowpoke hat, Milo waited, wondering if the secret he had blabbed to Jaspur had finally made its way to Sadikaye’s ears. He hadn’t consulted Levee before he spilled the beans. Better to ask forgiveness than permission, he thought.
The Rogue Trilogy Page 88
