Rogue Beyond the Wall Read online

  Rogue Beyond the Wall

  A Novel

  Giselle Jeffries Schneider

  Kobo

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All right reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Copyright © Giselle Jeffries Schneider

  Cover Art by Sara Oliver Design

  First Published in 2019

  Published by Giselle Jeffries Schneider through Kobo

  Author: Schneider, Giselle Jeffries

  Title: Rogue Beyond the Wall

  Dedication

  Normally I dedicate my books to my husband who always believes in me and pushes me to do my best. But this time I am dedicating my book to Sir Lancelot, my cocker spaniel, who sat at my feet as I began this prequel series but didn’t get to see the publication.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Part 1

  Can’t Turn Back (Nicholas)

  Unnecessary (Isaiah)

  To the Wall (Nicholas)

  Shocked (Isaiah)

  Only One Way Out (Nicholas)

  Part 2

  Footprints (Nicholas)

  Out the Window (Isaiah)

  Brida (Nicholas)

  Peaceful Realm (Isaiah)

  Part 3

  What Laid Behind (Nicholas)

  Dead Flowers (Isaiah)

  Through the Eyes of a Spirit (Brida)

  Beautiful (Nicholas)

  Consequences (Isaiah)

  Part 4

  New Friends and Old Faces (Nicholas)

  Not His Clothes (Brida)

  End of a Long Day (Isaiah)

  Doomed (Nicholas)

  Natural (Brida)

  Just a Game (Isaiah)

  Goodbyes (Nicholas)

  Part 5

  Stow Away (Nicholas)

  Shelter (Sanctus)

  Not Going Anywhere (Nicholas)

  No Emotions (Sanctus)

  Dead Either Way (Nicholas)

  Doll (Sanctus)

  Thief (Nicholas)

  Don’t Do This (Sanctus)

  Debt Paid (Nicholas)

  No Big Deal (Sanctus)

  Part 6

  Contact (Salbatzaile)

  Simple Coin (Sanctus)

  Mixed-Breed (Ángelo)

  Part 7

  Bad News (Brida)

  Part 8

  Owl (Nicholas)

  Harboring a Fugitive (Sanctus)

  Wisest (Salbatzaile)

  Larger Role (Ángelo)

  Honey and Wheat (Nicholas)

  Dead (Brida)

  Sentimental Value (Salbatzaile)

  Bad Feeling (Ángelo)

  The Reason for His Visit (Nicholas)

  Part 9

  Letters of Truth (Isaiah)

  Never Existed (Isaiah)

  Prized Possessions (Brida)

  Dinner Guest (Isaiah)

  Unexpected Help (Isaiah)

  Part 10

  Restless (Nicholas)

  Burning Energy (Salbatzaile)

  Other Than Human (Ángelo)

  Meditation (Nicholas)

  Five Minutes (Sanctus)

  Something to Look Into (Nicholas)

  Part 11

  Unexpected (Isaiah)

  Seen (Brida)

  Special (Isaiah)

  Observations (Isaiah)

  Normal Human Being (Isaiah)

  Insulted (Brida)

  Nightmare (Isaiah)

  Eternity (Isaiah)

  It’s Time (Isaiah)

  Not Understanding (Isaiah)

  Run (Isaiah)

  Didn’t See It (Brida)

  Missing (Isaiah)

  Other Publications

  Part 1

  November 12, 4464

  Can’t Turn Back (Nicholas)

  Snow sprinkled onto Nicholas’ head as he stepped out the rickety door at the back of the Dancing Goat, a tavern situated in the lower-class district of Haven. Then he looked up into the grey sky where flakes melted onto his tired face. He could feel the bags under his young eyes, his skin stretched tight. His chest and shoulders weighed on him.

  This was it. He was making a drastic change to his life for the better, though a part of him wished it could go differently.

  But I have made mistakes, and I can’t turn back. My rogue life is over.

  He took the steps down for the last time, taking in the cracks in the wood before they disappeared under all the white, and directed himself right along the narrow street. A breeze caught him here, and he hugged himself for warmth. All he wore was a grey cotton shirt under a dark blue sleeveless tunic, hood down along his back.

  Only that was when he heard the presence of another person. It came as frantic boot thumps. The sound was louder and more persistent than his own natural quiet steps, and it nearly erased the crunching of the snow beneath them.

  He tensed.

  “Nicholas!”

  The rogue turned, recognizing his friend, Cedric, and smiled weakly. Smiles were getting a bit easier as the sober, clean days grew into weeks.

  And Cedric slid to a halt, bending over to grip his knees as he panted. “Nicholas…” he wheezed.

  “Maybe you should sit,” Nicholas chuckled, slipping an arm around his friend to feel just the coat he wore around his thick frame. “It doesn’t look good to have a guard trainee in his third year huffing and puffing. Have you started that diet my father…”

  The young guard shook his head and straightened, a gasp escaping as his pinkened face contorted. “No time for jokes. A warrant has just been issued for the King of the Rogues.”

  Nicholas couldn’t help but chuckle more, the sound echoing on the cold air just as it gusted into the street and shoved him an inch forward. He hugged himself tighter with that, releasing his friend as his teeth chattered. “Cedric, there is always a warrant out for the King of the Rogues. Now come, sit.” And he gave his friend a nudge toward some crates.

  Cedric shook his head again.

  Nicholas sighed, that tiredness hitting him harder now and wiping his attempt at a smile away.

  “This time is different,” Cedric breathed. “This time your name is on it.”

  His heart stuttered as his face paled. At least he was sure it paled. It was hard to tell at the moment. “That’s impossible. I never…”

  “It was Rusty. He turned you in. But Nicholas, the gate…”

  Now Nicholas shook his head, though it didn’t quite feel a part of him anymore. “I just renounced my title and gave it to Rusty. You must be…”

  “No.” Those dark green eyes of Cedric’s grew intent. “I was there with King William and Prince Jonathan. It was Rusty. But Nicholas, listen…”

  A thudding entered his ears, Cedric’s next words disappearing behind them. Rusty? No. He… The image of his right-hand man appeared in his mind. There had been no sign of deceit as he accepted the title before the other rogues. It hadn’t been the normal fight to the death way, but it had been accepted just as it had been the last time.

  “The gate hasn’t been locked yet,” came back Cedric’s voice.

  Nicholas mentally shook his head and redirected to his friend.


  “I would say you have a few minutes to get out of Haven. Jonathan is doing his best to stall.”

  “But…” The world moved. “But my father.” And he motioned in the direction of the castle. He couldn’t see it from where he was located, but he knew its path by heart. “I have to…”

  Cedric’s hand snatched him, drawing him to a halt rather abruptly. “You have no time. They will catch you before you make it onto the castle grounds. You have to go. Now!”

  The process of breathing had been forgotten. How to move, forgotten. Nicholas just stood there, gaze on nothing in particular as his mind sorted a way he could sneak into the castle one last time and see his father.

  “Nicholas!”

  He was shoved forward, Cedric’s hands harsh against him. He stumbled only once.

  Go!”

  And somehow he found himself running, but not in the direction he desired.

  Unnecessary (Isaiah)

  Isaiah slipped off his coat and shook the snow to the stone floor of his workspace. The black fabric was fading and getting ragged, but he was running short on money lately and couldn’t afford a new one. That’s not to say he wasn’t paid enough. His King was very generous. The problem was his son, who swiped more and more every time he turned his back.

  The thought of why made him sigh, his eyes taking in the material in his hands as he stood there lost in his own memories. It hadn’t escaped him that Nicholas was slowly deteriorating before his eyes. The last piece of his life, his sweet little boy, was disappearing on him.

  But it didn’t do to wallow, so he motioned to his office and stuck his arm inside to hang the coat. Then he returned to his main workspace with one final thought – the same thought he always had.

  Just don’t let me go home at the end of the day and find him dead. With that came the preferable meeting with the guards, who dragged his son in almost every night drunk and unconscious. They didn’t even knock anymore.

  Then he went straight to the cabinets that sat to the left and opened the first door for the inventory sheet.

  A knock interrupted.

  He put the sheet back and closed the cabinet, the door to his workspace opening with the click before he could move much further than that.

  “Master Isaiah?”

  He turned, and in walked Xander, one of King William’s personal guards. Nothing about him screamed attention, though. The young man, the youngest so far to be selected for such a position, appeared uninjured and healthy in his hauberk and blue with gold sleeveless tunic. The King’s emblem was large and clear on his breast.

  “I have been instructed to make my post here for the day.” There was almost an apologetic tone to that, and it spilled a tad across the guard’s features.

  Isaiah blinked, waiting for an explanation as he had protection spells on every wall and door. In fact, he had personally put up protection spells all over the castle and throughout the walls surrounding the villages. Guards were a bit unnecessary. “Is there anything I need to know?” he ventured when he got nothing more. “Maybe I can help.”

  Xander shook his head. “It is a small matter. We should have it solved by the end of the day.”

  With another sigh, and the feeling this was going to be a long day, Isaiah returned to the cabinet. But each step drew itself out, which made the patient bed and worktable stretch away around him.

  To the Wall (Nicholas)

  Nicholas’ feet rounded a corner going left with a slide and a stumble. He crashed rather haphazardly into the snow, completely unlike him. But he shoved himself up easily and picked up the pace once more, heart leaping to his throat to conflict with his brain that warned him to turn around now or it would make him scream beyond his will. He nearly did, too. Scream, that is. The sensation to let out his frustration at the entire failure of the day worked its way through his head, his chest. Even his eyes.

  In all honesty, though, how could he not scream? The castle, his father within it, were behind him. His home, in the middle-class district, was behind him. Everything he ever knew was behind him. He was leaving it all without a single goodbye. Not even a note.

  Except he knew as he slid with more control to the right that turning back would mean capture. Capture meant punishment and the loss of any chance to turn his life around. Capture meant disappointing his father further, which he couldn’t do despite the guilt raking through his insides and eating at him the further away he put himself.

  Then he made a left and a quick right and spotted the gate in the distance. The blacksmith, the mill, the parish church and parsonage, the bread shop, and a couple closed street stalls stretched out around him. This wasn’t the market, of course. This street actually led deep into the village before turning off and opening into the market.

  “Over there!” came a distant voice.

  Nicholas fumbled and slipped to a halt, caught himself before he hit the ground, and felt his skin prickle as his hairs rose against his sleeves.

  Two guards emerged from the alleys to either side up ahead. Another on the wall was pointing his way. Then the rattling of the gate closing filled the air.

  He bolted back toward the street he had just emerged and slipped into an alley on the left. There was no rhyme or reason to the direction. He just needed to lose the guards.

  “This way!” a voice hollered.

  Nicholas slipped in behind a butcher that enjoyed being tucked away. He recalled seeing a ladder here once.

  But that ladder was gone now.

  Of all the days! he hollered to the gods as that scream came up to make a restrained squeaky whine. But he knew they would be of no help. The gods didn’t interfere with human law. All he had to help him now was his knowledge of the backways. So he took the nearest turn left, then right to get another left.

  Once more, there was no reason for his choice of route. All he knew was safety was this path led to safety.

  “Which way did he go?” The voice was further back than before.

  “This way!”

  Nicholas picked up the pace, noting how the ground grew thicker. There was just a split second to process the falling snow from there, which was large in his sight.

  “Here!”

  The boots fell in line behind him, the snow crunched. Tears welled up. This just couldn’t be the end.

  Left, then right.

  Or should that have been right and then left?

  A grunt, a crash. Crates shattered under immense weight.

  “Keep going! Get him!”

  There was no time to determine right or wrong. He took another left and a door appeared up ahead. It hung on hinges, indicating vacated building. So he dared a glance over his shoulder, a humming meeting his ears when he searched out for the sound of boots.

  No one appeared.

  He gave it his all, one last shove, and he reached the door and slipped within the threshold. Then he grabbed the knob, feeling it loosen from the wood as he pulled, and shut himself in with a shuttering splinter and muffled clank of the outside knob.

  It was silent after that, save for his breathing, and he clutched tightly to the part of the knob he held. And from there he stepped away from the door and the pale stream of light that spilled from the hole that now stared at him.

  No way I just escaped that easily. They had been on my heels.

  He gulped then and drew himself to a stop, head cocking slightly for any sound from the world outside. That world graced him with the distant stomping of boots, and then nothing.

  His free hand went over his mouth, tears beginning to trickle out, and he dropped to the floor. A wall was there to catch him as he fell back and shook his head.

  Daddy, he allowed himself to cry to himself. There was no recollection of the last time he had used that word, but he was going to use it now. Daddy, come find me.

  Then a strange chill. His skin prickled again, hairs rising once more against his sleeves. He shivered and hugged himself until hi
s knees came up and he buried his face away. And at last he cried. Not screamed, but cried.

  The chill faded, only now the sensation he wasn’t alone swept over him.

  He swiped his face against his knees, grit getting into his skin, and he peeked about. There didn’t appear to be anyone present.

  “Hello?” he called out cautiously.

  Silence.

  That was stupid of me. He pushed himself up, legs wobbling, and sniffled. I am being hunted and I call out to a stranger. What is wrong with me?

  He looked about once more, ears perking for any sound.

  I can’t stay in here. I have to move. Find a way over the wall.

  That was his goal now. So he stepped back to the door, the stream of light hitting his boots, and pushed the door open with a slow, long creak. Just far enough to see outside and find nothing but alley. Then he licked his lips and slipped out into the light, instincts sending him looking right first. Left was a dead end.

  Might as well.

  So with a deep, well-thought-out breath, he trudged back the way he came. But his legs hollered and moaned and he stumbled sideways into a wall. He nearly slid down into the snow there, too.

  He breathed again, sucking it in deeper than the first and holding it for a moment before releasing. Calm down. This isn’t as bad as it looks. And he pushed forward, using the wall as a crutch until he reached the end of the path.

  This time he looked left, recalling the direction the guards ran. Then he looked right.

  No one was in sight.

  All right, let’s go.

  He turned left. It was the only way to go to get to the wall. Yes, it also led toward the guards, but he had no choice. The wall was closest on this side, and it would take half a day to sneak his way to the opposite end with all alert on the main road.

  But what to do when he got there was still unclear. A wall was a wall.

  Shocked (Isaiah)

  Isaiah checked off the last item on the inventory list. Every vial was accounted for and all those low clearly marked. Then he returned the list to its place and headed to his office. His mind raced over the events for the day, trying to remember them all with no success. His head shook mentally with that. This wasn’t like him to forget things, but it had been happening more and more of late.