“Relax,” she replied. “It’s not your fault. If either Jaspur or I were in your boots, we likely would have found ourselves in the same predicament.”
“Uh huh,” Sadikaye replied half-heartedly as he propped himself up against the back wall of his shallow shelter.
She began unpacking a pot as well as few rations from her bag. Sadikaye watched her curiously until the half-elf caught his eye. Smiling, she explained, “You’ll be more tired tomorrow if you don’t eat something.”
Sadikaye started to drag himself back onto weak legs, intent on doing his share of the work, but Deley waved him off.
“I can handle the cooking for one night,” she said. “You should rest. Foreigners like you aren’t used to the thin air and hard terrain here. It’ll take a few days before your body gets used to it.”
The young prince plopped back down and shed his hood to reveal a face that looked utterly downtrodden. “What kind of prince am I if I make you do all the work?”
Deley laughed as she placed a pot full of water over the fire. “The typical kind.”
Perching her elbows on her knees, the half-elf began carving at a potato with a knife she had pilfered from Jaspur’s pack, her hand working in smooth, quick strokes.
Sadikaye smirked. “If that is the case, I’d rather be unusual.”
Deley couldn’t help but smile at that. It was such a casual remark. Something Sadikaye had thought little about, and yet it struck a chord within her.
The half-elf had spent enough time in Velagray to know that the horse folk needed someone unusual. After being abused by Shadow’s merciless rule, they yearned for a contrast. A leader with integrity and compassion that wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty would make an incredible impact.
Yes, Sadikaye would be a brilliantly unusual choice.
“You may not see it now,” she said, “but I think you’ll be good at leading a kingdom.”
“Yeah?” Sadikaye laced his fingers behind his head as he rested his eyes behind closed lids. “What makes you think that?”
Deley tapped a light heel against the ground, her thoughts coalescing in her mind. “A good king cares about his people. He puts them at the forefront of his concerns as he makes decisions on their behalf instead of his own.”
“Well that certainly rules Jaspur out,” Sadikaye muttered.
Deley frowned. Looking over her shoulder and into the darkness where she knew the rogue lingered, she couldn’t help but disagree. “Your father may not be the ideal parent, but he is a remarkable leader. If I were you, I’d try to learn from him.”
“Learn what?” Sadikaye snorted. “He just let me collapse on the road to Moonridge.”
“Jaspur did what he had to,” Deley defended. “He was right. We shouldn’t have stopped back there. In fact, we shouldn’t have stopped here, either. The only reason he relented to setting up camp is because of his concern for you.”
“It’s not concern. He felt guilty. That doesn’t make him a good person.”
“He is protecting you as we speak, Sadi,” Deley pressed. “The rogue will likely stay up all night watching over this camp just so you can rest.”
“Why does everyone defend him?”
“Why do you villainize him?” Deley threw the last of the vegetables into the now boiling water and began to stir the pot, her tone lacking judgment. “Before you knew he was your father, Jaspur was your hero. It seems to me that revelation has affected you.”
“How can it affect me? I don’t even know him.”
“Exactly, and I wager you’re disappointed. In a way, it probably feels like he has failed you.”
Sadikaye smirked, causing Deley to raise an inquisitive brow.
“Am I wrong?” she asked.
The young prince pressed his ears back, their black tips blending into the dark strands of his hair. “Is that how you feel about your father?”
Deley stared into the bubbling stew as she felt a familiar sadness clunk into her chest. “Sometimes, yeah. My father was alive for many years after I was born. As I got older and thought about the odds, I realized it was highly likely he knew of my existence. Yet never once did he try to reach out to me. I’ve always wanted to inquire why, but he died before I had the chance to ask him.”
Silence fell between them. When Deley looked at Sadikaye, she noted that he was gazing upon her with such empathy, it was too overwhelming to bear. The half-elf averted her gaze as tears filled her eyes. Wiping them on her sleeve, she focused on stirring the pot.
“I’m sorry,” Sadikaye’s voice was quiet, but Deley’s keen ears still caught every word. “For what it’s worth, I heard Rayhan was one of the most honorable rahee to ever live. If he knew, I’m sure he had a damn good reason for not being there for you.”
“Maybe,” Deley sniffled quietly. “Which is why you should give Jaspur a chance, Sadi. Maybe you’ll find your father did, too.”
A rustle stirred beyond the fire’s light, silencing the pair. Sadikaye tensed, his hand instinctively reaching for the bo staff resting beside him.
“Jaspur?” Deley whispered.
A strange, throaty noise similar to that of an elk came from nearby, raising their hair on end. Deley simultaneously grabbed both of her daggers and retreated back toward the slab of rock that sheltered Sadikaye.
The young prince forced himself into a kneel, his bo staff rested against his shoulder. Fatigue caused his legs to tremble, but his grip remained steady by sheer discipline and will.
Above the rock, pebbles rolled. Deley’s eyes widened as a shadow extended over the fire’s light. Saliva dripped over the stone slab’s edge, pattering onto the silhouette of what appeared to be a buck’s head. A long set of horns extended from it like a pair of vines struck with thorns.
The half-elf’s blood ran cold as the stench of decay overwhelmed them. This was why Jaspur was reticent to rest here and why he took first watch. The Abyss was home to horrors of which few elves cared to speak, but Deley knew the road to Moonridge passed several caves that linked the surface to this subterranean world.
“Sadikaye,” Deley whispered, her voice trembling.
The young prince lifted an ear in her direction, for he didn’t dare deviate his attention from whatever stalked their camp. Another throaty shriek rose up above them, followed by the scratching of claws.
“Do not let your guard slip,” she warned. “Not even for a moment.”
Sadikaye recalled the brief moment when his grip on the night mares faltered. His fingers tightened around his staff as two pairs of claws curved over the edge of the stone, each at least six inches in length. Silently drawing his weapon forward, the prince prepared to strike the moment the beast showed its head.
But that moment never came.
A flash of blue bolted toward them from somewhere opposite of their alcove, chipping the rock where the creature perched and forcing it to leap away. Dust exploded before the pair while a horrible screech rang out once more.
Sadikaye and Deley covered their mouths, coughing into the fabric of their sleeves as they squinted through the debris. On the other side of the fire, Jaspur’s sword flared an angry blue. His right hand was clenched in an open grip, a blue orb already forming.
Sadikaye’s jaw dropped as he looked upon the rogue, his veins alight with magic. Beside him stood Diego, muscles bunched and ready to strike. The stallion whinnied angrily at the monster that loomed out of sight, while Siabra stepped up from behind him, her lion-like tale whipping angrily.
Sadikaye inched toward the opening of their alcove. He had half a mind to join the rogue despite his current state. Then he saw what Jaspur was up against.
Even in its hunched stance, the creature stood at least fifteen feet tall. Sadikaye could count every bone in its broad chest, while its limbs were long and gangly. Muscle rippled through its haunches and neck, so thick they could tear any one of them apart with ease.
It’s head was even more horrifying. Above its gaping maw sat two front-
facing eyes. Sadikaye shuddered when he looked upon them. For all of the beast’s grotesque features, its eyes were strikingly human. They chilled the young prince down to the deep recesses of his soul.
“Deley…” Sadikaye whispered. “What is that?”
The half-elf didn’t dare look away, her expression grim. “I’ve read about them in my mother’s research notes. The re’shahna call it a wendigo. They are monsters born of men whose starvation lead them into cannibalism. Their hunger is insatiable.”
Judging by the thick saliva that dripped from the maw of this creature, he certainly had an appetite. It circled Jaspur with a loping gait, searching for an opening.
The rogue turned with the creature, the orb in his palm growing gradually in size. He showed no signs of attacking, but instead remained on the defensive.
“Can they be killed?” Sadikaye whispered.
Deley shrugged. “I suppose we are going to find out.”
The wendigo began to grow impatient. Rising onto its hind legs, it launched toward Jaspur. The rogue side-stepped, throwing another volley of raw magic into the creatures shoulder.
The wendigo flew as if it had been struck by a catapult, and Sadikaye thought surely it had done some damage. Yet Jaspur didn’t miss a beat, raising his sword in defense as the wendigo came loping back, its horns locking around Jaspur’s blade.
Grunting, the rogue locked his knees, his gloved hand pressing against the blunt side of his sword as he pushed back in attempt to avoid being skewered by the many points of the wendigo’s rack.
“Howlim, Seladay!” he shouted.
Diego reared, his hooves striking the monster where Jaspur’s magic had singed it. The creature shrieked, yanking its head back as it moved to deal with its new foe.
The sudden motion nearly took the rogue’s sword with it. Jaspur grabbed the hilt with both hands, yanking Lumiere free and two of the wendigo’s points along with it.
But the creature didn’t falter. He took the loss in stride, his claws scraping toward Diego. The stallion wheeled, kicking out his back hooves as he did to deflect the monster’s strike.
At the same time, Jaspur came in from behind, his sword slashing one of the wendigo’s thighs. An angry blue line was left in the blade’s wake, the skin hissing as it curled away from Lumiere’s magic.
Jaspur, figuring out the wendigo’s bane, now stalked the creature who was putting a wise distance between the rogue and his vicious sword.
“Light magic,” Deley whispered to Sadikaye. “It is the antithesis of dark enchantments, burning away the corruption that taints it.”
Suddenly, Sadikaye understood why the rogue had been holding back. Jaspur had been biding his time until he could identify the creature’s weakness. Now that he had, Sadikaye’s father seized the offensive, offering no window of redemption to the wounded wendigo.
Lumiere sparked against the creature’s horns as the monster desperately tried to fend off Jaspur’s strikes. Diego worked in tandem with the rogue, darting at the wendigo’s flanks and tearing at its blind spots.
More shrieks pierced the air, though these were laced with fear as the rogue wove in between his foe’s long limbs. Its swiping claws caught only air as Lumiere poked two precise holes in its chest, sizzling away its dried skin, wiry muscles, and solid bone.
The wendigo stumbled, then fell into one of the many boulders strewn across the ground.
“Siabra, now!” he shouted.
Out the mare leapt with all the grace and swiftness of a deer. Her cloven hooves struck against the surface of the boulder, connecting her innate magic with the stone.
There was a loud hum, then an explosion as the mare leapt away and onto the top of the alcove. Deley and Sadikaye ducked into the shelter to avoid the stone’s spray.
By the time it cleared, they found the wendigo on its back. It writhed in a tangle of hooves, its human eyes wide in terror as it tried to fend Diego off.
The black stallion was relentless and calculated, ensuring the wendigo was too busy fending off his strikes to anticipate the rogue’s next strike. It came, swift and merciless. Jaspur fell to his knees, both hands on Lumiere’s hilt as the sword sped into a downward strike.
It pierced the wendigo’s heart, flooding its body with a flourish of magic so bright, it illuminated the camp as if it were daylight. The creature shrieked one last time as its body dissolved until there was nothing but ash.
Breathing heavily, Jaspur wiped his brow on his sleeve and rose to his feet, patting Diego’s neck.
“Good job, old friend,” he muttered before retreating back to the fire. Hailing Siabra, the mare dropped lightly back to the ground and joined him, her muzzle inspecting him for wounds.
Deley and Sadikaye cautiously stepped out, their eyes fixed on what was left of the wendigo.
“You made killing it look easy…” Sadikaye muttered.
Jaspur wiped his brow on his other sleeve, his face scrunched in disgust as he realized it was covered in wendigo dust. Sheathing Lumiere, he began brushing off his clothes, more irritated than shaken.
Using the edge of his cloak as a towel, he wiped off the rest of his face, then his hands. “This is not my first dance, kid, and killing that wendigo was no stroll through the garden.”
The rogue rolled his shoulder, emphasizing that point when the movement caused him to wince. “That creature was stronger than ten men combined.”
“Should we break camp?” Deley inquired in a hushed voice. “Clearly, this place is as dangerous as you suspected.”
Jaspur sighed. “Rest for a few hours, the both of you. You’ll be safe so long as I keep watch.”
“So you knew when we made camp here that something like this could be looming nearby?” Sadikaye asked, incredulous.
“I knew the risk, which is why I pressed for us to move on,” Jaspur replied. “We left the worst of it behind an hour ago, but we are still within a few miles of the nearest cave entrance. At this point it is safer for us to stay put and begin at dawn than try to navigate the darkness. More Abysmal creatures are likely nearby, but they will keep their distance from this spot when they catch scent of the wendigo’s remains. Rest easy. We should be safe for tonight, but I will keep watch just in case.”
Sadikaye shook his head. The fact that Jaspur had eliminated the creature so easily was a testament to the rogue’s strength. He was powerful. Very, very powerful. Even Levee paled in comparison.
Deley checked on the stew, which managed to survive the scuffle unscathed and unburnt. She made a bowl for each of them. Jaspur scattered the wendigo’s ashes around the camp as a warning to others, then washed himself with a conservative splash from his waterskin before joining the pair by the fire, chewing quietly.
Sadikaye replayed the fight in his head as he tried to grasp how Jaspur had managed to combat it so methodically. If his father felt any ounce of fear against his opponent, he did not let it show. Every move the rogue had made was carefully implemented, from his collaboration with Diego and Siabra to the final execution.
“Was that the first time you fought a wendigo?” he asked.
Jaspur looked up from his bowl. Leaning back, he placed his free hand on his knee. “A wendigo, yes. An Abysmal creature, no. I have not spent the last eighteen years among rabbits and deer. These are the wildlands, Sadikaye. Many dangerous creatures lurk in the mountains, most of which a seasoned soldier would be hard-pressed to defeat.”
“Yet you survived them all leading up to this point.”
“With the help of Tobiano and the other re’shahna, I survived and I adapted,” Jaspur corrected. “Learning from them enabled me to hold my own against things like the monster you saw tonight.”
Sadikaye looked away, a sense of guilt building in his heart. Everyone had been telling him to learn from the rogue, but ever since their conversation on the mountain about his lineage, he had felt reticent.
As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Deley had been right. Sadikaye felt quite ashamed of hi
mself and the grudge he held against his biological father. Those mixed feelings were stunting his opportunity to grow, and the rogue knew it.
He saw right through Sadikaye, yet he would not state it outright. Jaspur was giving him the opportunity to set those unresolved feelings aside and take the initiative.
His people didn’t need a child caught up in petty feelings. They needed a leader, and a good one wouldn’t ignore an advantage when it stood in front of him.
“I don’t have a sword like Lumiere,” Sadikaye pointed out. “Without it, I wouldn’t have been able to slay that wendigo, would I?”
“I can’t say for certain,” Jaspur confessed. “I carry an advantage by wielding light magic. It is the bane of any creature whose is tainted. But that doesn’t mean a wendigo is immortal.”
“So it’s possible we could have killed it without Lumiere?”
Jaspur sighed. “Do not make it sound so easy, Sadikaye. Even I had a hard time getting close enough for that, and I had Diego and Siabra on my side.
“Part of survival is knowing when you’re outmatched before engaging. That wendigo would have slain you both had I not been here to intervene.”
Sadikaye couldn’t argue that.
“I want to learn from you,” he said, his tone full of resolve. “What can you teach me?”
“Plenty,” the rogue’s eyes flicked to Sadikaye, his countenance stern. “So long as you are willing.”
The young prince stirred the vegetables still left inside his bowl. With a humble nod, he looked up at his father. “That magic ball thing… Can you teach me that?”
“Aye,” Jaspur chuckled. “It is simple enough. Anyone gifted should be able to create an orb. Your magic is different than mine though. If you want to develop your unique gift, you should mentor under your mother.”
Sadikaye set down his bowl. “But I want to know what you can teach me.”
“For now?” Jaspur arched an intrigued brow. “Let us start with how to be a prince. Moonridge is a day and a half away, and while circumstance will likely forgive your lack of social graces, you will need to understand the subtleties of politics. Walk with me tomorrow. I will instruct you on how to garner respect from the nobility you’re about to meet.”
The Rogue Trilogy Page 92
