Street. Streets were straight. If he went left or right, he would eventually reach the edge. But which direction was the right one? He shouted to Jaspur over his shoulder, “Where are we going again?”
“Tennakawa’s hooves, Sadikaye—” Jaspur huffed, then turned, using the press of their backs to shift the young prince toward the left. From that perspective, Sadikaye could see roofs of various sizes and shapes standing above the chaos, including an intricate spire. “See the top of that massive cathedral overhead? That is where we want to be. Now fight your way forward and get us off this bloody cobblestone!”
“Got it,” Sadikaye pried his back away from the rogue and launched into an offensive assault, his staff twirling with deadly precision. The rogue kept an eye on him when he could, though in truth he was more fascinated than worried.
Sadikaye was remarkable with a staff. Each attack flowed seamlessly into the next as it whistled around his lean frame. It was dizzying to watch, his body twisting in a dance Jaspur couldn’t begin to comprehend. Yet he scored strike after strike, careful not to leave any gaps in his defense.
Jaspur followed in his wake, as did a fair number of elves and re’shahna. With so much pandemonium, the mimics hardly noticed a few dozen enemies easing out of the foray. It also helped that mimics weren’t that bright in the first place, which is why the rogue felt the need for them to move quickly. Once the real soldiers were upon them, they would have a much harder time slipping by unnoticed.
Panting, Sadikaye finally made it off the street. His body was covered in spatters of blood and his face was streaked with sweat, but he hardly noticed. As he quickly scoped the layout of the nearby buildings, he chose what he thought was the smartest path.
Right through the narrow space between two buildings.
“There are open alleys everywhere and that was your first choice?” Jaspur muttered to himself. He waited until he was certain all eyes were diverted before sliding sidelong into the tight space. He was lean, but not quite as lean as Sadikaye. The rough stone pulled at his light armor and clothes, hampering his movement. “If I get struck by an arrow doing this, I swear by the goddess, I will stab you myself…”
The re’shahna, noting Sadikaye and Jaspur’s route, chose instead to scale a nearby balcony and follow the pair from above. The elves followed suit and Jaspur snorted when he finally popped out onto the other side of the two buildings.
“Took you long enough,” Sadikaye remarked.
“You know what? I think I should lead from this point on.”
Sadikaye shrugged. “Whatever gets us to the cathedral the quickest.”
“Yes, I move much quicker when I’m not sandwiched between two edifices,” Jaspur remarked. “Come.”
Jaspur guided his son through a maze of dilapidated buildings that people actually called homes, each one hardening his resolve. Sadikaye didn’t know what this city looked like before, but the rogue did. He knew each and every one of these streets, and how they should be versus what they had become.
Though he knew there was nothing he could have done to stop it, that understanding did nothing to dampen the tragic reality around him. It would take a very long time to rebuild this kingdom back up to its former glory, and the young prince would need quite a bit of guidance to get there.
Jaspur had an unexpected urge at that moment. Looking at Sadikaye, he imagined himself remaining here to guide him. But that was something the rogue would have to think about after they reclaimed the throne.
He led on in silence, evading clashes with the mimics by hiding behind food stalls, broken crates, and empty wagons. At one point, they narrowly missed a troop of Velagran Guardsmen rushing to join the fray.
“The second wave has started,” Jaspur whispered to the prince crouched beside him. “Now that Shadow’s Abysmal minions are dwindling, his real force is on the move. The battle up the main road will get much worse from here, so let us pick up the pace.”
They began to move in short sprints from building to building, followed by the light footfalls of the rest of their unit traveling by rooftop. Tennakawa’s cathedral was a good mile from the North Gate, which they had entered, but still only a few streets deep into the city. With its back within view of the outer wall, Jaspur and Sadikaye had no choice but to go in through the front door.
The rogue guided them into the hedges, their well-manicured shape a stark contrast to the rest of the city’s weathered state. It was a testament to the people’s faith, for Shadow would not care for anything that did not worship him.
“What do we do about them?” Sadikaye whispered as he nodded toward the pair of Velagran Guards standing by the cathedral door. Three others patrolled the area, likely in attempt to weed out the rebels from the citizens trying to take refuge.
One of the re’shahna who was part of their unit crawled up next to them and tapped Sadikaye’s heel.
“Wait,” he whispered and pointed at the spire.
Sadikaye and Jaspur looked up to see a small figure crawling down its length, his features hard to glean under the low sun.
“Is that…?”
“Patchi,” Jaspur confirmed Sadikaye’s suspicions. The chieftain must have expected the guard and went on ahead to dispose of them. It would explain why they ran into so few along the way.
“But there are five of them and one of him,” the prince whispered back. “Shouldn’t we help him?”
The rogue shook his head. “The Velagrans are the ones who should be worried. Patchi is harder to kill than a cockroach.”
Sadikaye squinted. “Why do you say that?”
“I’ve tried.”
Shocked, the young prince started to ask why, but Jaspur pressed a finger to his lips and motioned for Sadikaye to pay attention. Crouched upon the back of a centaur-shaped gargoyle, Patchi looked down upon his prey. In his right hand was a blowgun while several darts were clutched in his left. He tucked one dart into the cylindrical hole and took aim.
Sadikaye noted how the chieftain focused on the patrolling guards first, waiting for one to slip out of sight of the others before shooting his first dart. When he did, it was a perfect shot. The dart nailed the guard in the neck and he fell to the ground with hardly a sound. Patchi continued with the same silent strategy, picking them off one-by-one until all five were sprawled unconscious on the ground.
“What is in those darts?” Sadikaye wondered, for once the guards were struck, they immediately fell unconscious.
“Unicorn’s tail.”
“Isn’t that a tree?”
“Aye. Its flowers are so potent, one good whiff will put you to sleep. The concoction on those darts is concentrated. They will not wake for a few days, at least,” Jaspur replied. He stood, and they rushed to join Patchi on the cathedral steps.
“Inside, the both of you,” the chieftain said as soon as he saw them approach. “No time to waste. I will have the others deal with this mess.”
Jaspur sheathed Lumiere and checked the hood of his cloak to make sure it was pulled down low before he ushered Sadikaye toward the entrance. When the re’shahna opened the doors, the rogue made it a point to keep his head low as they stepped through the threshold of the cathedral.
The young prince quickly discovered why. A large crowd huddled inside. Most of them were women, children, and elderly, left there by their loved ones when news of the approaching rebels came. Judging by a glance, most of them were old enough to remember Jaycent Connor. It was possible someone there could recognize the rogue if he stood too close.
Hence why Jaspur shielded his visage. It was a wise move, and as a result all eyes fell on Sadikaye. They looked upon him now, gasps of shock and surprise bubbling up. The young prince looked strikingly like his sire. Enough so that with Jaspur’s face covered, they had no doubts as to who he was.
“Are you him? Are you the heir we heard about?”
“Sadikaye Connor, right? Prince Jaycent’s son?”
“I can’t believe it. You look just like the o
ld prince.”
“Are you really here to save us?”
Again, Jaspur pressed against Sadikaye’s back, pushing him forward. “There will be plenty of time to greet those faces after Shadow is dead,” he reminded in a hushed voice.
“Right,” the young prince took a deep breath. Staff in hand, he followed Patchi to a cairn built into the raised dais near the altar. As their elven allies started to enter as well, the civilians began to understand that there was an objective unfolding here. They kept their distance as Patchi had Jaspur help him lift the lid from the cairn.
Sadikaye leaned forward as the stone scraped across its surface, revealing not a body, but a bottomless opening that dropped straight into the city’s lower tunnels. Ducking his head beneath the cairn’s lip, the young prince tried to gauge how far down it went, but it was too dark to see.
“In you go,” Patchi stated.
Sadikaye pulled his head up out of the hole, eyes wide. “Excuse me?”
“Princes first,” Jaycent quipped.
Groaning, Sadikaye looked down into the darkness again. “Not that I am afraid of heights, but do you even know how far it goes?”
The rogue shrugged and jumped down. The young prince perked his ears, relieved when he heard Jaspur’s boots hit the bottom. “Not so bad…” he muttered to himself. Taking a seat on the cairn’s edge, he threw his legs over and slid off, dropping to the ground in a soft crouch.
Jaspur was already several paces ahead, the soft glow of Lumiere lighting his steps. As Sadikaye caught up to him, he asked, “Did anyone bring a torch?”
The rogue tossed him an amused glance. Opening his palm, he formed a blue orb.
“Illumina me,” he commanded it. The orb rose up to float by his shoulder, providing better sight in a softer light than a torch ever could.
Sadikaye grinned. “Remind me to have you teach me that when this is all over.”
Jaspur chuckled as they waited for the two dozen re’shahna and elves that would follow them through the dark maze to Shadow. “Survive this night, Sadikaye, and I will teach you everything I know.”
* * * * *
“Foolish move, rahee,” an archer shouted as he faced Levee in a deadlock, their arrows trained on one another.
“Oh really?” Levee smirked, her aim never wavering as two night mares galloped up the stairs behind her.
The Velagran Guard, a human with a tattooed face and forked tongue, grinned maliciously. He nodded to the mares, assuming they were his backup. However, his elation quickly faded when one of them dashed right by the rahee, her ash-colored horn drilling through his chest.
Mentally, Levee bid two more night mares she had held back from Kalitska’s herd to go assist Milo. The pair that was with her charged on along the wall walk, picking off Velagrans or chasing them until they leapt over the wall.
Meanwhile, Levee went to work poking holes in the enemy soldiers trying to solidify a defense behind the wall. Seeing them up close, she realized they were nothing more than ruffians and mercenaries. The few who were rahee seemed like the bottom of the barrel; villains sentenced to service instead of imprisonment.
She felt no shame in putting them down. By the time the elves’ ladders began clunking against the wall and allies started climbing over them, she had fully emptied her arrows upon the Velagran Guard.
“Good work,” one of the elves who had just climbed up upon the wall remarked. She nodded to him, feeling confident they would claim the gate for themselves soon.
“Can you handle the wall from here?” she asked. “I have to catch up to the others before they get to the first inner gate.”
He nodded. “Go on.”
Grabbing a handful of arrows from the barrel next to her, Levee stuffed them into her quiver. She started to turn her mount when a loud roar made her blood run cold.
On the opposite side of the wall where Milo was still defending ladders, a loud thud resounded from a fortified tower. Everyone on that side froze, their attention fixed upon the doorway.
Another thud followed, then a third that caused the entire tower to explode. Fragments rained down over and upon the wall walk. With it, dust puffed out like a giant cloud, shielding a massive silhouette of... something.
As the dust cleared, the rebel force stared in horror. Out stepped an enormous ogre, its height exceeding fifteen feet and a metal club in hand. Levee’s heart leapt into her throat as its eyes locked on Milo, a thick line of drool drooping from its fat lips.
“No,” Levee whispered. The night mares that were sent to support him had already moved on to the Velagran ranks below. Milo was completely vulnerable against impossible odds. She winced as his mount was struck before it had a chance to move. The impact tossed it in the air with the carelessness of a child’s toy.
The horse landed first, its neck snapping on impact. Levee’s mate flew several more feet, his body hitting the edge of the wall walk. Milo was lucky. Somehow, he managed to pivot his body and grasp one of the freestanding stones that lined the edge before he could fall off.
But he didn’t evade the ogre’s awareness quite as well as he did death. Growling in frustration, the ogre began its laborious stalk to finish off the stubborn rahee.
“No!” Levee shouted. She kicked her horse into a breakneck gallop, desperate to beat the ogre to Milo’s side.
Leap off my back when we get close to your mate, the gelding told her. I will distract the ogre.
That is far too dangerous, Levee protested as she relayed her thoughts back to the horse beneath her seat. You saw what the ogre did to Milo’s mount.
I am a war horse, he replied. My breed lives to face this kind of danger.
Levee relented. She knew better than to argue against a war horse’s pride. As they drew near her mate, she leapt off the horse’s back and landed in a roll to break the impact. The moment her momentum slowed, the gypsy righted herself and rushed to the wall where Milo dangled.
“Are you okay?” She grabbed him by the fabric of his vest and tugged, dragging him back onto solid ground.
“Been better,” he grunted as he steadied himself on his feet. “Been worse, too.”
“Let’s go,” Levee bid just as the ogre slammed his club against the walkway.
The gelding was quick, leaping away before the club could hit him, but the strike broke off a piece of the wall. He scrambled to evade the stone crumbling beneath his hooves, yet he could not escape the length of the crack. The wall collapsed beneath him, dropping the horse to the ground below.
Levee’s heart dropped, but she did not have time to mourn.
“That thing is too big for us to fight,” she said grimly. “We have to get off this wall before it tears it completely down.”
“I won’t argue that,” Milo agreed. They started back the way Levee came, but the Velagrans had already moved in for the kill. The elves and re’shahna who moments before had been confident in holding the wall were now being overrun by armored Guardsmen taking advantage of the ogre’s disruption.
Milo planted his feet. “Better we head back the other way.”
“Toward the ogre?” Levee looked at him as if he were mad.
“There’s a second tower behind the one he shattered. We can use it to get down from here.”
Levee looked at him doubtfully, but Milo had made up his mind. Grabbing her hand, he spun around. The ogre was perhaps twenty feet in front of them, his eyes now fixed upon the pair.
“Please tell me you have a plan,” Levee said.
Milo swayed with the trolls movements, attempting to gauge where he would strike next. “When the ugly swine raises its club, dart under its legs. These things can’t turn for dice. We’ll be able to make it halfway to the second tower before it even faces us.”
“That tower hasn’t even been cleared yet. We’d be two against who knows how many.”
“Still better odds than facing an ogre,” Milo shrugged. “And there’s our opening!”
The ogre raised its club in b
oth hands. It all seemed to happen so slowly at first. Milo shoved Levee forward, urging her into a sprint. She bolted, Milo close on her heels.
However, the club came down fast; much faster than they had anticipated. Gritting his teeth, Milo launched himself into Levee’s back. They skidded together across the ground between the ogre’s feet before rolling unceremoniously over one another. Around them, the hoots of mimics sounded, revealing there had been more inside that first tower than just the monster they were trying to escape.
“Go!” Milo climbed back to his feet, lifting Levee with him as he rose. “Go, go, go!”
Levee had never run so fast in her life. She glanced back frequently to make sure Milo didn’t fall behind. Even with his stilted gate, he nearly paced her stride-for-stride. Be it the spurs of fear or the strength of sheer will, they scrambled over the broken remains of the first tower and sprinted to the second long before the ogre could catch up.
The mimics, however, were a different story. Some ran on two legs while others skittered on all fours, their pace much quicker than the lumbering creature they considered their ally.
Rushing toward the second tower’s door, Levee was shocked to find it was open. She and Milo scrambled inside, relieved to find no one was there. Just a few crates of arrows, a rack of spears, and a cot. Milo slammed the door shut just before the mimics caught up.
It banged and rattled as several of the gangly monsters rammed against it, their hungry screeches pleading for a taste of their prey. Bracing the door with his shoulder, Milo locked the bolt in a hurry.
“It won’t last long,” he said as he turned toward his mate. Scanning the small room, he nodded to a round handle sticking out of the floor. “I’ll watch the door, you check the hatch.”
Levee nodded. Planting her feet, she grabbed the iron handle and pulled, raising the heavy door. Peering down, she found once again that it was empty.
“This tower must be for storage,” she said. Dropping the hatch on the ground, she climbed down the ladder. Rows upon rows of shelves greeted her, displaying a mix of food, bandages, and other general necessities. A single door was set against the side. She pressed her ear to it and listened, but all she heard were the muffled sounds of battle outside.
The Rogue Trilogy Page 104
