Rebels and Fools (The Renegade Chronicles Book 1) (17 page)

“Agreed,”
Ragellan said. “We may be far from the road, but it would be folly to believe
that the mayor hasn’t out men to search for us. In my opinion, two guards
walking the perimeter of the meadow in hour-long shifts would suffice.”

Klye
was content to let Ragellan handle the matter. Choosing the number of guards
and deciding who would work best with whom was second nature to the former
Superian commander, but when Ragellan volunteered to take the first watch, Klye
had to disagree. Ragellan was far more tired than he let on. Probably, he
hadn’t slept well during his stay in Port Town’s prison.

“I’ll
take first watch, along with Horcalus,” Klye suggested, figuring that the
younger knight was the least likely to fall asleep while on watch, even after
walking all night. The others would be more dependable after some rest.

Othello
had purchased only six bedrolls in Port Town, anticipating only one new
addition to the group—their guide to Fort Faith. The bedrolls were thin and
somewhat ragged—it was all Klye’s money could afford—but they were better than
nothing, for the ground was hard, wet, and cold. With two people on watch, that
still left one person without a bedroll.

“I
will go without,” Ragellan volunteered, even as Plake raided one of the supply
bags to liberate the last one.

But
apparently Othello preferred the earth for his bed and a tree root for his pillow,
for the archer refused the bedroll offered to him. After everyone settled down,
placing their bedrolls and then themselves down near the middle of the
clearing, an eerie silence fell over the camp. After but a few minutes, the
sounds of heavy breathing—and snoring from Crooker—blended in with the noises
of the forest.

In
no time at all, Klye and Horcalus were the only ones awake.

Seeing
the others asleep added ten pounds to Klye’s eyelids. The Renegade Leader
forced his gaze away from the sleepers and out toward the surrounding woods. He
was not accustomed to acting as a sentry. During his days as a thief, he had
not had anyone to watch his back and hadn’t watched anyone else’s.

Yet
there was something altogether familiar in standing watch, and he recalled the
vivid dream he had had while in an inexplicable coma. In that dream, he had
traveled with three other adventurers, had been part of a team whether he liked
it or not. So real had it felt, more like a memory than the musings of the
unconscious mind, that Klye had to remind himself that it had not actually
happened.

Glancing
over at his fellow watchman, Klye saw Horcalus had his back to him. The knight
was pacing back and forth along one edge of the meadow, keeping his eye on the
surrounding forest. Though he was surely as tired as the rest, Dominic Horcalus
did not drag his feet, and his posture was as straight as the spires of
Aladon’s Cathedral.

A
life-long thief, Klye had always regarded the Knights of Superius—or any
faction of knights, for that matter—as the enemy. Now, however, he was glad to
have Ragellan and Horcalus in his band. They were formidable warriors and men
of honor, no matter what the King of Superius claimed.

As
Horcalus made an abrupt about-face, his gray eyes met with Klye’s. Klye offered
the man a smile, but the knight turned away quickly, blatantly ignoring the
Renegade Leader’s gesture of goodwill.

Horcalus
had never been friendly toward him, and Klye thought himself a fool for
expecting things to have changed in the past few days. Probably, Horcalus held
Klye personally responsible for Ragellan’s most recent incarceration.

He
probably blames me for everything, Klye thought. Even after seeking the
Knighthood’s corruption firsthand, he still opposes the rebellion. Ragellan seeks
the truth, but Horcalus cannot even face the possibility that the Renegades are
in the right.

Looking
back in the direction of the woods, Klye wondered if Horcalus would ever
realize Superius had turned its back on its people, and not the other way around.

*
         
*
         
*

Commander
Ralz remained motionless long after the wizardess’s spell had taken her far
from Fort Splendor. He looked absolutely miserable, though the Stranger
couldn’t have cared less.

The
Stranger—he had fallen in love with the ironic alias—had chosen Gerard Ralz as
Chester Ragellan’s replacement for two reasons only. First, Ralz would do as he
was told, and second, the new commander was too intimidated by him to question
orders.

“I
require lodgings for the night,” he told the commander. “No one is to know I am
here. I will be gone before the dawn.”

Ralz,
still staring at the space where Dark Lily had stood before vanishing, seemed
to snap out of his trance at the Stranger’s words. “Do you have need of a coach
or a horse, at least? I still do not understand how you got here without a
mount…”

The
Stranger placed the spell book back into its box and closed the lid with an
audible clap. He hated touching the tome, could feel the taint of its magic
boring into his fingers like parasitic worms in search of a bloodstream. Still
standing, he confronted the commander.

“It
doesn’t matter if you don’t understand. For security reasons, some things must
remain a secret. Much like our business with the assassin.”

The
Stranger studied Ralz carefully as he spoke. Chester Ragellan had been too
virtuous for his own good. Gerard Ralz, on the other hand, was a renowned
toady. He wasn’t likely to err, as Ragellan had, by ignoring the compromises in
knightly protocol that were necessary in dealing with the Renegades.

Ralz’s
curiosity, however, could pose a problem. Fortunately, the Stranger wielded a
weapon that could overcome such a flaw: fear.

“Not
everyone would understand what we are doing here, Commander,” the Stranger
began. “We wage a war upon the Renegades and the rogue knights whom they have
seduced, but our battles are not fought in the field. Think of the innocent
people we save by striking in secret. Think of the cities that would be burned
to the ground should a civil war break out in earnest. Our tactics may be
subtle, but they are no less honorable. Your reticence makes me nervous,
Commander. If you cannot play your part with faith in the greater good…”

Ralz’s
face had turned an ashen shade as the Stranger increased his tempo and volume.

“Forgive
me,” he finally managed to say, and after taking a deep breath, he added, “You
can count on me. I am doing my best to acclimate myself to the situation. You
need not worry about my loyalty.”

“I
hope you are right,” the Stranger replied. “Just as Ragellan was replaced by
Ralz, so might Ralz be replaced by another.”

The
Stranger, carrying the small wooden chest in his arms, left the chamber and
Ralz’s company. His words hung in the air like the blade of a guillotine. He
hardly cared if the commander discovered that Ragellan and Horcalus were
innocent. He didn’t worry because he had seen the terror in the commander’s
wide eyes.

And
he knew Gerard Ralz valued his life above abstract concepts like right and
wrong.

Passage II

Arthur
cringed as a twig snapped beneath his foot. For the next few steps, he looked
down at his feet, mindful of where he placed them, but his gaze was inevitably
drawn back up to two people on the trail ahead of him. The boy and girl walked
leisurely, unaware they were being followed.

When
the boy, older than both Arthur and the girl by a few years, took the girl’s
hand in his own, Arthur felt his face grow warm. He could almost hear the boy
say, “The trail gets tricky up ahead. You’d better take my hand.”

Arthur
entertained the idea of running up to them, exclaiming that Llede Hendorm was a
liar and that there was nothing wrong with the trail. But Arthur knew he would
never do something so bold. Llede had bullied him for years, ever since he and
his drunkard of a father had moved to Hylan.

Arthur
had never been able to stand up to the bigger boy, so he continued to follow as
quietly as he could.

Soon
the two teenagers reached a stream that completely blocked their path. Someone
had cut down a birch near the bank, but the makeshift bridge was half-submerged
in the water, and the portion that remained above the waterline was rotted.
Llede and the girl, Taralynn Seeder, exchanged words, though Arthur couldn’t
hear them above the music of the brook.

Taralynn
put her hands on her hips and spoke so loudly that Arthur could hear her voice,
if not her words. Then Llede grabbed the girl by her shoulder and pulled her
closer to him.

He’s
trying to kiss her! Arthur realized, a sick feeling in his stomach.

Apparently,
Taralynn didn’t appreciate Llede’s advances, for she tried to pull away. But
Llede was a strong boy, and he didn’t release her until she delivered a smart
smack with the back of her hand across his face.

Arthur
felt a surge of pride for Taralynn, who had been his dearest friend for as long
as he could remember. Unlike her sisters, Taralynn had a taste for the
outdoors, and while she had sported a scrappy frame ever since she and Arthur
were mere children, lately, she had begun to plump up in all the right places
and had grown taller than Arthur.

Taralynn’s
victory was short-lived. Rather than backing off, Llede accepted the slap and
replied with one of his own, an open-handed blow that sent the girl to the
ground.

The
next thing he knew, Arthur was running straight at Llede Hendorm, who had his
back to him. Screaming a senseless yell, he charged forward, throwing all his
weight into an uncoordinated attack that transformed him into a human battering
ram.

Llede
never knew what hit him. Both boys rolled down into the stream, a mass of
flailing arms and legs. All too suddenly, Llede ceased struggling. The stream
was only a few feet deep, and they were still near the bank. Even after Arthur
released the boy, Llede did not surface. Crimson tendrils snaked through the lazy
current of clear water.

Arthur
couldn’t move. Taralynn was saying something, but Arthur could only stare at
Llede Hendorm’s unmoving form. Taralynn rushed down to where the boys had
landed, mindless of the frigid water. She hoisted Llede up above the surface of
the stream. A deep cut on the boy’s forehead sent rivulets of blood gushing
down his face.

He
was dead.

“What
have you done, Arthur?”

Taralynn’s
words were like a bucket of cold water splashed on his face. Arthur sputtered
nonsensical syllables in reply to the girl’s question. He turned and ran. He
ran until his sides felt like they were going to split and spill his guts onto
the trail, until his breath was so hot he thought he would breathe smoke. He
ran until he thought his legs would snap underneath him, and then he ran some
more.

Even
as he sprinted away from Taralynn, the stream, and Llede’s corpse, he felt
someone grab his shoulder.

“Arthur,
Arthur!” called a familiar-sounding voice.

He
spun around and saw the face of Llede Hendorm, drained of all color and leering
at him wickedly. Arthur screamed and tried to bolt away, but suddenly, the air
was as thick as maple syrup. He couldn’t move fast enough, and all the while
Llede was chanting his name, glaring from behind a mask of blood. A skeletal
hand reached toward Arthur’s face, but he couldn’t even cry out.

“Arthur,
wake up!”

He
jolted upright, breathing hard and finding a hand clamped over his mouth.
Arthur looked around, confused and frightened, but ultimately relieved when he
recognized Horcalus.

“You
are safe. It was only a nightmare,” the knight said.

Arthur’s
breathing slowly returned to a normal rate, though the terror of the dream was
not quick to leave him. He could still see Llede’s lifeless corpse, bobbing
grotesquely in the cold stream. He wanted to purge the memory from his mind,
pluck it out like a stubborn turnip fixed fast in the earth. Mostly, he just
wanted to cry.

“Are
you all right?” Horcalus remained crouched over him, regarding him with a
concerned expression. “Sometimes, it helps to talk about it.”

Arthur
wanted nothing more than to let it all out, to tell someone about the horrible
thing he had done, to confess his sin in hopes of finally breaking free of the
guilt. But how could he tell Horcalus, a former Knight of Superius, his
horrible secret?

“It’s
all right,” he told Horcalus, not looking him in the eyes. “It was just a bad
dream.”

Horcalus
took a deep breath before saying, “Then you had better get back to sleep. We’ll
be up and moving again before long.”

The
knight patted him on the shoulder, which made Arthur wince. He felt terrible
for lying to Horcalus, but better to disappoint him with dishonesty than admit
to being a murderer. Closing his eyes tightly in an attempt to dam his tears,
Arthur asked any god listening for dreamless sleep.

*
         
*
         
*

She
could do nothing more tonight. The incantation of invisibility that had allowed
her to slip past Fort Splendor’s guards had cost her much of her strength. And
after that, she had cast two transportation spells—first, a quick jump to her
old mentor’s tower, where she researched a spell to take her to an enchanted
place in the unfamiliar province, and second, the magical leap across the
Strait of Liliae to Capricon.

Upon
arriving outside the city of Port Town, Dark Lily entered the first inn she
came upon, a place that was near enough to the ocean to bear the reek of fish
yet far enough away to avoid even a remotely picturesque view of the sea. By
the look of it, several buildings across the street had burned down recently,
their charred frames adding their unique odor to the briny atmosphere.

Exhausted
as she was, Dark Lily didn’t care. The bed—a hard mattress and all—looked
downright divine.

After
placing a weak ward of protection over the small room, so she would be
instantly informed if some intruder decided to pay her an unexpected visit, the
wizardess removed her robes and lay down on the bed. But though her body was
tired, her mind was still astir.

Dark
Lily had seriously considered killing Commander Ralz and the Stranger. Yet
something in the young man’s eyes had told her that she would be wiser to
accept the job and track down the two rogue knights.

As
with the spell book itself, Dark Lily had sensed a great power residing within
the Stranger. Still, if the mysterious young man double-crossed her after she
claimed the rogue knights’ heads, she would not hesitate to unleash all of her
battle magic at the bastard.

The
thought of merely
holding
a spell book written by the legendary Braiseph
Harrow made her head spin. Not only was the archmage renowned for his war
wizardry, but also for his interest in portals, a mostly unexplored area of the
arcane arts. If Dark Lily could master the manipulation of space and distances,
she would certainly become the greatest assassin of her age.

With
Braiseph Harrow’s spells in her possession, no one could hide from her.

She
fell asleep with images of herself opening and closing portals with ease,
materializing behind her victims and striking before they knew she was there.
It was a lot like becoming invisible, but not nearly as taxing, she imagined.
Then, after the kill, it would take little more than a thought to return her to
her employer and collect her reward.

And
to think, all she had to do was find and kill two knights…

She
awoke early the next day, eager to complete her assignment. Her first spell of
the day was an incantation that altered her appearance. Unlike some wizards,
Dark Lily did not tamper with her looks overmuch. She knew for a fact that her
mentor, the wizard who had taken her on as an apprentice many years ago, used
his magic to maintain a handsome and youthful air.

While
the wizardess could make herself appear as beautiful as she cared to, Dark Lily
didn’t want the attention that came with looking like a goddess. The spell
affected her garb mostly, changing her shadowy gown into the clothing a
laundress or seamstress was wont to wear. It took hardly any extra effort to
erase a wrinkle or two in the process.

Once
she reached the nearest marketplace, she discovered gaining information about
the local Renegades was not to be at all challenging. Everyone was talking
about how the mayor’s daughter and her Renegades had fought a battle against
the city guards in the Square as well as a jailbreak for which the Renegades
were also being blamed.

There
was something about pirates too, but she was more interested in the rumors
about a rogue knight who had recently escaped the mayor’s clutches. But no one seemed
to know where the rogue knights or Leslie Beryl, the city’s Renegade Leader,
were hiding.

Eavesdropping
was getting her nowhere, so she decided to head back to the tavern-lined
streets near the northern harbor. Barkeepers had a habit of dispensing secrets
in exchange for delicious promises she never kept. She was on the fringes of a
large marketplace when her ears caught some words that made her pause.

“I
know you’re a Renegade sympathizer. You
will
tell me where I can find
Leslie Beryl.”

Dark
Lily quickly spotted the speaker, an old man. He held his face close to the man
he was addressing, a merchant who was selling earthen pots from a small stand.
Dark Lily positioned herself so that she could walk up behind the old man
without being seen.

“I
don’t know where Leslie is,” merchant replied calmly. “I have seen her only
once in my life.”

As
she approached the curious scene, she looked past the old man and into the eyes
of the merchant. They were glazed over. And he had spoken in a monotone. The
merchant was clearly ensorcelled.

The
old man cursed, but before he could resume his interrogation, Dark Lily tapped
him on the shoulder. He spun around with a speed that defied his age and
scrutinized her with a suspicious glare.

“What
do you want?” he growled.

“Apparently,”
she began, “I want what you want…or, rather,
who
you want. Leslie
Beryl?”

The
old man’s frown deepened. “You must have misheard me, miss. I’m looking for my
niece, Liza Barrow.”

“I’m
no fool. I know you are a wizard, old man, so there is no use pretending
otherwise.”

Still
scowling, the elderly mage squinted at her. Likely, he was trying to see
through the illusion she had cast upon herself, which, as a fellow
spell-caster, he might have sensed. “Who are you? What do you want from me,
woman?”

As
he spoke, a gnarled hand drifted to a pouch that hung from his belt.

“Be
calm,” she said, sparing a glance at the merchant, who continued to stare
straight ahead in a stupor. “I merely want to know why you are looking for
Leslie Beryl. I have a need to speak with the woman, you see. She has some
information I wish to have, and so if you seek the Renegade Leader in hopes of
doing her harm, I should want a moment to speak with her before you get to your
business. Maybe we could even work together.”

She
had no intention of allying herself with the elderly wizard, but she had to get
him talking. Meanwhile, his right hand continued to inch toward his pouch. All
right, she thought, so much for the easy way.

“You
are looking for the rogue Knights of Superius, aren’t you?” she asked.

The
rage that twisted his visage told her she was right. The wizard drew a thin,
silver wand from his belt and pointed it at her. Then, shrieking out the arcane
syllables that triggered the talisman’s magic, he sent a volley of dark light
directly at her.

But
Dark Lily was already casting a spell of her own, and the wand’s black bursts
were absorbed by an invisible sphere that suddenly surrounded her.

“Did
they promise you the spell book of Braiseph Harrow?” she taunted, bracing herself
against the concussive blasts that shook the solid air around her.