“Open up, boy,” a low voice called. “It’s Teeg.”
Bry rolled out of the bed and hid the blade behind his back. Approaching the door with squinted eyes, he opened it up a crack, his shoulder rested against the frame to hide the fact that he was hiding something. One eye flipped shut in protest as the light outside his pitch black room nearly blinded him. “What?”
Pulling a candle back, the barkeep cleared his throat. “How brave ye feelin’?”
Frowning, Bry ran his free hand across his sleepy eyes. “Why you askin’?”
“A group of my regulars are downstairs. Apparently they heard the same rumor you were tellin’ me about a few days ago when ye got here. I know it’s late and I know it ain’t your problem, but these folk are lookin’ for some kind of hope. If you can share a bit o’ your story, I’m sure it’ll help.”
Bry was cautious. In Velagray, talk like this was considered treason. With Shadow’s soldiers patrolling the streets, this could easily be a trap. Teeg may have cut a deal to sell out Bry in exchange for money or food.
But if it wasn’t? Bry came here with a handful of other spies with one objective: to plant the rumor of the prince’s return until it caught and spread like wildfire. While he wasn’t the only one working diligently at this, every bit of effort counted. Patchi had pressed upon them that the coup d’état could unfurl at any time, driving their sense of urgency.
“Gimme a few minutes to dress proper,” he bid.
“Alright. We’ll be waitin’ downstairs.”
Bry nodded and shut the door. He would descend to the tavern’s main floor, but not without having a better idea of who was down there first.
Dressing quickly, he concealed his dirk in his boot and another in a sheath behind his right hip, then covered it with the lip of his worn cotton shirt. Running a hand through his short-cropped hair, he covered his ears with his maroon hat, tightened his belt, and reached for the door.
In the hallway, Bry could already hear the muffled voices from down below. Whoever this crowd was, discretion wasn’t top of mind. The Armed Maiden must be a safe place for them, filled with people they both knew and trusted.
Brushing up against the wall that lined the stairs, Bry stepped lightly so his approach would not be overheard. Crouching near the bottom steps, he tilted his ear toward the tavern’s main room.
“Are you sure we can trust this guy, Teeg?” a young voice asked. “How d’ye know ‘em?”
“He’s a young kid with family here in Velagray.”
“What family?”
“How do you know he isn’t lyin’?”
They were a skeptical bunch, their voices a mix of fear, worry, and hope. It tugged at Bry’s heart strings. These were not individuals experienced in conspiring. They were everyday people just looking for a sliver of hope in a dying city.
“Look, we ain’t got the time or leisure to wait around, avoidin’ risks,” said what sounded like an older male. “Most of us are outta work, and what few got their horses back say the animals aren’t right in the head. Velagray’s a damn mess, and it’s only gonna get worse from here.
“If these rumors have even a shred o’ truth, we gotta find it soon. It’s either that or we wait around to die, and I’m not ready for that. If Teeg trusts this kid enough to bring ‘em down here, I vote we hear what he has to say.”
Rising to his feet, Bry made the final steps down the stairs and into the room where the discussion was taking place. Twenty heads turned to face him. They varied drastically in age, yet all of them looked tired—like soldiers who had been manning the frontline for far too long.
“You the kid who owns the farm?” said the old voice Bry had overheard. It belonged to a rahee with a scruffy, white beard and weather-worn lines on his face.
“My uncle’s farm, but yeah, that’s me,” the re’shahna walked over, careful not to look too alert. The fact he just woke up helped a little. Rubbing his eyes again, he slid into a chair the barkeep pulled out for him. “Teeg said you folks heard the same rumor as me?”
“Dunno. How about you tell us about your rumor first, then we’ll tell you if it matches ours,” piped up another.
Bry shrugged. “Not much to tell, really. We’ve been havin’ rahee buyin’ horses off us lately that claim they plan to join up with a band of rebels. All of ‘em seemed pretty convinced the group was led by the prince of Nevharday.
“I didn’t think much of it at first. I figured it was some kind of hoax, but when you hear the same thing over and over, it starts to sound true, ya know? Maybe Prince Jaycent survived somehow and has finally found a way to take back his throne.”
“It’s been eighteen years,” came a doubtful voice somewhere in the middle of the gathering. “Don’t you think if he lived, he would have done somethin’ sooner?”
Another rahee snorted. “Like what? Shadow’s tamed our entire kingdom with his curses and his cruelty. If ye ask me, eighteen years ain’t enough.”
“Have you seen the one they call the prince firsthand?” the owner of that distinct, old voice stood. Bry noted then that he was strong, with biceps carved from hard labor. “I wanna believe this rumor as much as anyone, but how can we be certain it’s true?”
“I haven’t seen ‘em,” Bry replied, and the room fell silent. “Yet people keep coming. Something or someone is convincing them to abandon everythin’ and go into the mountains in search of a prince we all were convinced was dead. There’s gotta be some strong evidence to make ‘em do that, don’t ye think?”
“Hope does funny things to people,” somebody in the crowd warned.
“What about Shadow?” Bry perched his chin between his fingers, his eyes cast toward his boots as he tried to reason the civilians into believing. “Why is he bein’ so hard on Velagrans all the sudden? Has he heard the same rumor?”
Murmurs rose up.
“Someone did escape not long ago,” said one individual. “I heard it’s the reason Shadow took all of the horses and put us on a curfew.”
“Why would he be so afraid of one lost captive?” Bry questioned. “Who was it?”
“Some gypsy,” the old rahee replied. “She’s supposed to be able to sway the will o’ horses. That’s why ours were snatched up in the first place. Apparently, Shadow did some sort of furry-eared voodoo on ‘em. Those that got theirs back were told they were safe to use, but they don’t act right anymore. They mind just fine, but it’s like their souls aren’t there. All that’s left is instinct.”
Bry shuddered. He had seen a hart once that fit that description. It took a lot of magic to form a creature like that, though. Surely, Shadow couldn’t have done the same to every horse in the city. Perhaps he did something similar… something weaker. He made a note to himself to explore that possibility further next time he visited Darthek at the castle.
“Gypsy…” Bry murmured. He looked at Teeg, a twinge of recognition washing over his expression.
“Whatcha know, boy?” the barkeep asked.
“Do you know what she looked like?” Bry asked the old gentleman.
The rahee crossed his arms as he chewed on the pipe hanging from the corner of his mouth. Pulling it from his lips, he exhaled a small cloud of smoke before he replied. “They said she was a rahee with long, light brown hair, green eyes, and freckles.”
Bry sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, his brows knitting together. “Melah, maybe…”
“Melah?” Teeg squinted. “What is that, a name?”
“No,” Bry shook his head. “It’s a title. There is a rahee the gypsies call Melah. She’s able to talk to horses like you and I are talkin’ now. She disappeared with the prince years ago, before Nevaharday fell.”
That seemed to stir the crowd. They began to talk fervently amongst themselves, until one voice spoke up above them.
“You mean the horse breeder’s apprentice?” the old man asked. “Seen her before, many years ago. She used to live with a Sarrokian and his ma in my old town. Her name�
�s Levee.”
If there was a chance to hook this crowd, it was in that recognition. Bry pounced on it like a hungry cat. “You’re kiddin’ me,” he said loud enough to draw all the attention back to him.
“It’s true,” the old man confirmed.
Bry stood and held his hand up about the height he knew Levee was. “About this tall, was she?”
The old man shrugged. “Been a long time, but looks about right… You sayin’ you seen her?”
Bry nodded. “She was one of the first ones to stop by my farm.”
That seemed to raise a few spirits. The murmur around them grew, but not everyone was convinced.
“Why does any of this matter to us?” asked a middle-aged woman. “We can’t leave Velagray. Everyone still here might as well be a prisoner. If the prince is alive and intends to come back, all we can do is wait.”
Another rahee laughed cynically. “For how long? I have a week’s worth of wages left to feed my family. After that, we’ll be beggin’ for scraps.”
“We should start plannin’ now,” the old man said. His voice was calm but stern as he leaned over the table before him.
“What?” the question seemed to rise in unison as all eyes fell upon him.
“Whether the prince is comin’ to help us or not, we all know this oppression is gonna lead to chaos. We should work together in order to prepare for it. Gather whatever we can that would serve as weapons, armor, rations—the things we need. At least then we’ll be ready for whatever does happen, good or bad.”
Teeg stood and dropped his hat on the table. “If ye need weapons, I know a guy down in the slums. He works underground and he ain’t for helpin’ rahee, but he’ll sell to me. Donate what ye can and I’ll have ‘em deliver what we can afford with the next shipment of mead.”
Nods rippled through the group. Slowly, they were warming up to the idea of rebellion. It wasn’t burning steady yet, but he had a lick of flame among this group tonight. If he nurtured it, that flame could catch.
One by one, patrons began digging through their coin purses and dropping what bit of money they had on their person into the hat.
Bry cocked his head. “You sure about this? If those soldiers catch wind of what you’re doin’…” he murmured to the barkeep.
Teeg shook his head. “It’s time I do somethin’ right for once, kid. Besides, what good is it to own a bar if all your patrons are dead?”
The re’shahna smiled. He pulled out a few coins of his own and dropped them into the hat, garnering more trust. “Let me talk to some folks I know tomorrow. Mayhap I can dig up more on this rumor after sunrise.”
Teeg nodded and Bry looked up to see the old man lift his mug in appreciation. The re’shahna had expected this to be a tough crowd, but with a little bit of coaxing and the right motivation…
The barkeep offered him a drink and he lifted it up with a smile. This rumor had formed a crack in Shadow’s hold over the rahee. Soon—very soon—Bry would see it crumble apart.
A PATH TO THE THRONE
Much to Sadikaye’s surprise, planning to lay siege to a ruling city and slay its immortal tyrant took time. After many hours of negotiating their resources, manpower, and the best route to Velagray, they finally began to delve into a more challenging matter: how to kill Shadow Silverhorn.
The young prince stood before the map, Patchi and Jaspur by his side as a plan began to coalesce. King Mekkai hovered over it from the opposite side of the table, the chairs that once stood there now placed far behind him.
At this point, Deley, Elessara, and the elven king’s advisors took a step back. Though they remained within the room, their input was minimal. Apparently, King Mekkai was quite the strategist, for he did most of the talking for Whitewood while Sadikaye depended heavily upon his advisors.
Stay confident, the young prince mentally reminded himself. Jaspur had told him about the fine line between wisdom and weakness. There was no shame in leaning on his advisors’ insight so long as he portrayed himself as the voice in control.
“Velagray’s layout has been altered since this map was drawn. Many changes were made to fortify the city over the last two years.” Jaspur used his finger to pinpoint certain areas as he spoke. “You’ll find here, here, and here are gates that section off the four quarters leading up to the royal grounds. Shadow can close these gates to slow or cease riots or enemy invasions.”
“So attacking the city from its outer gates is fruitless,” King Mekkai reasoned.
Patchi interrupted with a “hmm”, drawing everyone’s attention. “Not necessarily.”
Sadikaye tossed the re’shahna a curious glance. “Go on…”
“Re’shahna specialize in infiltration. We are stealthy, which is why we are so ‘rare’. T’is not that we are not there, but that we choose not to be seen.”
“So you want to infiltrate Velagray?” Sadikaye assumed.
“Yes,” Patchi agreed, “but to do that, we must avert Shadow’s gaze. The bulk of our forces should still attack the city from its gates, but I can lead a second, smaller force underground.”
Jaspur squinted. “I thought Shadow discovered those tunnels already?”
“Not all,” Patchi assured. “We closed many during the first siege, including the outer entryways and one tunnel that leads to the castle’s inner courtyard.”
King Mekkai shook his head. “How is it you know so much about Velagray and its hidden passageways, Patchi? I thought this city was practically impossible to infiltrate.”
Patchi looked pointedly at the elven king, his expression humorless. “I am a re’shahna, King Mekkai, and an old one. There are few secrets in this realm I am unaware of.”
“I will keep that in mind,” the red-headed king replied, his smirk telling Sadikaye he should probably say something.
“Luckily, we’re all on the same side,” he reminded them all. “Patchi, tell us how we can get to these tunnels and infiltrate the castle.”
“My re’shahna may be gifted in stealth and ranged attacks, but not so much in close combat against a crowded army. We will need to depend upon King Mekkai’s soldiers to direct the bulk of our forces and breach the outer wall.
“Once inside the city, Levee can help our main force carve a path. She is able to influence the will of equines, which will eliminate the night mares as a threat so our army can press onward toward the castle.
“Meanwhile, those charged with assassinating Shadow can detour toward the cathedral. There, they will find an entrance to the underground tunnels leading to the castle’s courtyard.”
“And who will undertake the monumental task of slaying Velagray’s king?” King Mekkai wanted to know.
“Shadow is no ordinary fiend,” Patchi replied. “We must leave him to the horse folk gifted with innate magic. Specifically, myself, Tobiano, Jaspur, and Prince Sadikaye.”
The elven king nodded. “Aye. This is your fight more than ours. It is only fitting your people see Shadow slain by one of their own.”
“And how do we do that, exactly?” Sadikaye asked.
The re’shahna looked pointedly at Jaspur. “I can get you to the castle’s courtyard, but beyond that is difficult to foresee. We do not know where Shadow will be hiding.
“Jaspur, you know the castle well from your years of service prior to Shadow’s siege. It will be up to you to find and slay him. Our forces will back you, but you must lure him out to us.”
“We,” Sadikaye corrected, drawing everyone’s attention. He looked at Jaspur, a stubborn frown upon his face. “You promised I would fight beside you in this battle.”
The rogue huffed. “That was before I knew you were of royal blood.”
“You promised—” Sadikaye’s voice rose, but Jaspur quickly cut him off.
“You are a prince, Sadikaye,” he shot back. “The only heir to the throne, and you think it wise to throw you in front of the strongest enemy this realm has ever known? I might as well feed you to him!”
“What kind o
f example would I set by letting everyone else take my kingdom back for me?” Sadikaye scoffed. “No one in this room would do such a thing.”
Jaspur slammed his hand on the table. “You have no idea what you are asking for. I watched this creature—nay, this monster—draw a river of blood with his sword. Not even Patchi was a match against him, and that was eighteen years ago. You really think your odds are better? You think you have the ability to take down a demigod?”
The room grew silent as the two locked stares. Sadikaye shook his head ever so slowly, his gaze never leaving his father’s. “Not all fights are won head-on. Our plan is half-brute force, half-infiltration. Look at the castle’s entrance.” He turned back to the map. “We can’t just walk through Shadow’s front door. If our primary force is creating a distraction in the city, we’ll need our underground force to distract those guarding the castle itself.”
King Mekkai tossed Patchi an intrigued glance, to which the chief nodded to Sadikaye. “Go on, Prince Sadikaye.”
“Our best bet is to have our underground force draw out the castle’s guard while Jaspur and I find a way inside. If they’re distracted by a direct assault, we can likely slip by unnoticed. Once inside, we’ll ferret out Shadow’s location and execute our attack.”
King Mekkai, who had already been briefed on the particular gifts of the rebel force, gave his chin a pensive rub. “It’s a good plan, but risky.”
Jaspur clapped a hand on Sadikaye’s shoulder. “Prince Sadikaye is right. Our odds are better slipping into the castle than barging in with a large force.”
“I have spies on the inside,” Patchi put in. “They can help point you in the right direction.”
“And when Jaspur and Sadikaye find Shadow, then what will they do?” King Mekkai held up an inquisitive hand. “This is no easy foe to kill.”
Jaspur lifted his sword slightly, revealing to the king and his company the blade on his hip without raising alarm. “Lumiere is the key to putting Shadow down,” he explained. “It serves as a conduit of light magic, which can destroy the tainted magic that give Shadow his power.”
The Rogue Trilogy Page 99
