Rebels and Fools (The Renegade Chronicles Book 1) (48 page)

“You
would have been wiser to kill me while you could,” he whispered to his unseen
captors.

“You
would have been wiser to
let
them kill you before I interfered!”

The
words were impossibly loud, resounding from all around him, but the volume
wasn’t what made his heart pound painfully in his chest. The disembodied voice
had used the goblin tongue.

His
eyes were adjusting to the oppressive darkness, and he could make out walls of
stone. But there were no iron bars, no human guards. He was in a cave. No, a
tunnel. A rocky trail stretched out before him. He must have been rescued by a
fellow shaman.

As
much as it hurt him to do so, T’slect propped himself up on an elbow. It
wouldn’t do to have one of his subjects see him in so pitiful a position. He
peered into the shadows but saw no sign of his savior.

“Show
yourself so that I might know whom to reward,” he called out in his native
language.

A
figure materialized in front of him. T’slect’s breath caught in his throat. It
wasn’t the sudden arrival that so stunned him—the goblin prince knew more
tricks than most shamans would ever learn—but the palpable terror the figure
exuded.

A
familiar fear gripped T’slect’s soul.

Although
he had only been in the presence of T’Ruel’s emperor only once—had seen the
face of his father when he was little more than a whelp—T’slect recognized the
terrible majesty his sovereign lord wore like a gown.

“Father—“

“Silence!”
roared the Emperor of T’Ruel. “Your mouth has already gotten you into enough
trouble this day. Do not make matters worse.”

T’slect
obeyed. He was powerless to do anything more than stare in stark horror at the
one who had given him life—and, in all likelihood, the one who would take it
away.

Despite
his keen vision, the goblin prince could not penetrate the impossibly dark shadow
that surrounded his father. Two pale red eyes shone in the blackness, fixed on
T’slect, who was too afraid to even grovel.

“You
are not the only prince of T’Ruel,” his father said. “I have sired more sons
than I know what to do with. But I chose you over all of your brothers. You had
proven yourself in battle, shown that the power of Upsinous was strong in you.

“Yet
you jeopardized everything today like a common fool. You revealed yourself to
the humans, and for what? Vengeance? Vainglory? You allowed your spite for the
humans…for a handful of men…to blind you.

“And
you came to this island without my blessing.”

“Spare
me, Father, and I shall make it up to you,” T’slect promised. “Give me another
chance, and I will make sure none of Fort Faith’s inhabitants live to see
tomorrow. Together, you and I could—”

The
red dots flared brighter, and T’slect squirmed under the wrathful gaze of his
father. “It is too late for that. Even if I were here in my physical form to
assist you, how would Prince Eliot explain the destruction of the fortress? No,
son, you have failed, and so will you be punished.”

T’slect
wanted to argue that they could blame it all on the midge. By Upsinous’s strong
black heart, there was still hope! There was still a chance for the Renegade
War to continue unhindered. But he dared not further anger his father.

“You
shall not die this day,” the Emperor said. “I have devised a fate worse than
death. No more will you wield Upsinous’s gift.”

T’slect
let out a wail of anguish. Already, he could feel something changing inside of
him. The sense of loss greater than any pain he had ever known.

“I
am not finished. This past year you have paraded around in the guise of a
human. This was a necessary part of the plan, but I fear you have come to think
and act too much like a human for your own good. We goblins do not confront our
enemies head on, not when we can slash at them from the shadows. You have
become impetuous and selfish, sacrificing the greater good for your own petty
revenge.

“For
this, I condemn you to live out the rest of your days as one of them. Today, I
lose a son, and the world gains another miserable human.”

“Father!”
T’slect shouted, or at least he started to, but then his body began to spasm.

His
insides twisted, and he felt the repulsive, pink skin melt over the handsome
gray flesh of his heritage. He screamed and screamed, but at the same time he
welcomed the pain for in it he was able to lose himself.

Writhing
there in the subterranean tunnel, suddenly very alone, T’slect hoped that the
pain would never end. He wished that there would never be even one second where
he could think and know that every time he looked at his reflection in a
mirror, he would see a hideous, human face looking back.

The
former Prince of T’Ruel prayed to Upsinous for death, but T’slect knew his god
well enough to know that there would be no easy way out of his punishment.

No,
he would live, and as long as he had life—even a human’s life—he had hope.

THE RENEGADE
CHRONICLES

Rebels and Fools

Heroes and Liars

Martyrs and Monsters

Heroes and Liars

David Michael Williams

An excerpt from Volume 2

 of The Renegade
Chronicles

Available now from

ONE MILLION WORDS

Mitto
gazed contentedly into the fire, watching the flames flicker and undulate in an
almost hypnotic manner. Suddenly, he was aware of someone standing behind him.

Perhaps
it had been all of that thinking about thieves and rebels because he was on his
feet in an instant to confront who-ever it was. He didn’t recognize the man who
had stolen up on him as silently as a ghost. For that matter, the stranger
resembled a wraith, draped, as he was, in a tattered cloak and cowl that cast
most of his face in shadow. Dark, sunken eyes peered out at him from between a
sharp nose.

Mitto
took a step back.

The
intruder pulled back his hood, revealing the wrinkled visage of a very old man.
“I did not mean to startle you, boy. I only want to talk. Please sit.”

His
voice reminded Mitto of a creaky-hinged door in want of oiling. Because he had
no reason to deny the old man’s request—because there was no reason to be
afraid of the ancient stranger—Mitto sat down and offered him the vacant seat.

The
old man set himself down with a not-quite-stifled grunt. That was when Mitto
saw the geezer wasn’t alone. A second shorter form followed him to a spot on
the other side of the chair. Mitto tried to discern what he could about the
addition to his unexpected company, but the shorter stranger wore a long hooded
coat to match the old man’s.

A
dwarf, maybe…or perhaps a midge? Mitto thought sourly.

He
couldn’t consider the bundled mystery further because the old man spoke again,
drawing Mitto’s gaze and full attention.

“Was
that your covered wagon I saw out front?” he asked.

Mitto
did not answer right away. He was lost in the intense gleam of the old man’s
dark eyes.

“Might
be it is, might be it’s not,” Mitto said at last.

He
had never been one to jump at bumps in the night, but there was something
suspicious about the old man—something menacing.

Swallowing
despite his suddenly dry throat, Mitto asked, “Who are you, and what do you
want from me?”

“My
name is Toemis Blisnes. I need a ride to Fort Faith…whatever is left of it.”

Mitto
sat back in his chair, letting the old man’s croak-like voice echo in his mind.
The stranger’s name meant nothing to him, but the mention of Fort Faith left
him bewildered.

Fort
Faith was a smallish fortification out past Fort Valor, nestled up against the
Rocky Crags. The place had been

abandoned
since the Ogre War. Nobody lived there now, except maybe the ghosts of the
Knights butchered by the brutes. What could Toemis Blisnes want with a deserted
fort? The man was far too old to be gallivanting halfway across Capricon…

“Will
you take us there? I can pay.”

Toemis
withdrew a fat purse from inside his coat. The mention of “us” reminded Mitto
that he and Toemis were not alone. Mitto’s gaze wandered back over to the
cloaked figure, but as the small stranger had taken a seat on the floor on the
other side of Toemis’s chair, he saw only the top of a brown hood.

“Look,
Mister Blisnes—”

“Toemis.”

“As
you like, Toemis,” Mitto said, inspecting a seam staring of the three-cornered
hat on his lap. “I can’t guess what interest you have in that old heap of
stone, and I don’t care. Fact of the matter is, I don’t venture that far
west…not on that road, any-way. I’ve been known to make deliveries to Fort
Valor, but there’s nothing worth my while beyond.”

He
glanced up at Toemis. The old man returned his stare without expression.

“My
route takes me to Hylan, Steppt, and Kraken regularly. Sometimes, I’ll go up to
the Port of Gust if the money is right, but I’ve never even seen Fort Faith,”
Mitto said, filling the silence with facts. “There’s nobody at Fort Faith to
trade with.”

But
then Mitto remembered a rumor he had heard during his stop in Steppt while
sharing a drink with Miles Tentrunks. Ten-trunks, a fellow traveling merchant
and notorious gossip, had heard on “good authority” that the Knights of
Superius were planning to reoccupy Fort Faith due to increased Renegade
activity in the region.

At
the time, Mitto hadn’t put much stock in his rival’s words, but now…

“I
can pay,” Toemis repeated, holding a coin purse out to Mitto.

He
resisted the urge to take the purse and look inside. The profit from his trip
to Kraken and back was considerable. That sum, added to what he would make from
his last run to Hylan before the first snowfall, would see him comfortably
through the winter.

It’s
probably full of rocks…like the old man’s head, he mused. And it would take a
small fortune to tear me away from Someplace Else. I’ve earned this little bit
of respite!

The
veiny, wrinkled hand remained outstretched, the coin purse just inches away.

“I
can’t,” Mitto protested, forcing himself to maintain eye contact with Toemis.
His refusal didn’t seem to dishearten Toemis Blisnes in the least. If anything,
the old man looked more insistent, more determined than before.

Without
a word, Toemis loosened the purse’s drawstrings. The firelight made the shiny
gold coins inside within sparkle and shimmer.

Mitto’s
eyes widened. The old man was, in fact, offering him a small fortune.

A
certain fable his mother had told when he was small came unbidden to mind, and
Mitto had the ridiculous notion he was face to face with the dastardly Goblin.
In the stories, Goblin would give gold in exchange for a favor. But in the end,
the man or woman in the tale always regretted helping Goblin with his seemingly
simple request.

Beneath
his supposed generosity, Goblin was as sneaky as they came.

Mitto
had never considered himself to be a greedy man—at least no greedier than any
businessman. And yet he couldn’t take his eyes off of the gold. With those
coins, he wouldn’t have to worry about hauling scratchy hay or heavy barrels of
Hylan lager for miles, praying to the gods to keep the snow at bay.

Hells,
with that much money, he’d not have to leave Rydah for a year!

Suddenly
suspicious, he looked up at Toemis. Where had the old man gotten so much gold?
Whose purse had been pilfered?

Whose
throat had he slit to gain this treasure?

As
though reading his thoughts, Toemis crossed his arms and said, “It’s what’s
left of a lifetime of saving…and it can be yours for nothing more than a ride
to Fort Faith.”

The
old man could be lying. Looking down at the gold once more, Mitto was fully
aware that Toemis, in spite of his age, could be a thief—could be the fabled
Guildmaster, for all Mitto knew. And then there was Toemis’s diminutive accomplice.
Where did he fit into everything?

Mitto
didn’t trust the old man, and yet whatever deception Toemis and his companion
might be weaving, the gold looked real enough. Of course, in the stories, the
gold was always real.

“Are
you two with the Guild?”

Toemis’s
brow furrowed in momentary confusion before he answered, “No.”

“Are
you Renegades?”

“No.”

Even
as Mitto recalled the terrible endings of those childhood tales—orchestrated,
always, by Goblin—he knew he would accept the impossibly simple job. He
silently cursed Toemis for the tempting offer and then cursed himself for
accepting the shiny bait.

“Fine,
I’ll do it,” he said, sounding as defeated as he felt. At least the would-be
hero in the story was allowed a moment of joy before his downfall. Mitto, on
the other hand, felt nothing but worry. “What do you say, half now and half
when we arrive at the fort?”

Toemis
closed the purse and thrust it back into his coat. “Nothing until we get
there.”

Mitto
opened his mouth to argue but then shrugged his shoulders in surrender. He
couldn’t blame Toemis for being cautious. Besides, with Goblin it was always
all or nothing.

“When
do you want to leave?” Mitto asked.

“Now.”

Mitto
had that nothing Toemis could say would surprise him. He was mistaken.

“Now?”
he demanded. “It’s raining like mad. The city’s half-flooded for gods’ sakes.”

Toemis’s
piercing black eyes didn’t blink. All or nothing, Mitto reminded himself. Well,
I may be a fool for gold, but I’m not completely crazy.

“Look,
Toemis, even if the gatekeepers would allow us to leave Rydah at such a
suspiciously late hour and even if the Renegade War weren’t lending courage to
every rogue and brigand this side of the Strait, I’d still have to insist that
we wait until morning on account of my horses. They need rest. It won’t get you
to Fort Faith any quicker if they collapse a mile outside the city.”

That
last bit was pure hyperbole, though the horses deserved to rest—as did he. Out
of the corner of his eye, he noted a slight movement, a bobbing, as it were, of
the brown hood beside Toemis’s chair. The old man dropped a bony hand down atop
the other’s head, though Mitto couldn’t decide if the gesture was intended to
calm or control.

“Very
well,” Toemis said, rising from his chair. “We’ll meet here at sunup.”

Mitto
nodded, and when the old man stuck out his claw-like hand, he quickly got to
his feet and extended his own hand to seal their deal. Toemis’s skin was warm
but not as sweaty as Mitto’s was. And the old man was possessed of a strength
that caught Mitto off guard.

Without
another word, Toemis Blisnes made his way over to the bar, where Else was
trying hard to look like she hadn’t been watching them the whole time. The
small, silent other followed Toemis without hesitation. But the shrouded
stranger did pause long enough to take a quick glance at the merchant,
providing Mitto with an unobstructed, albeit brief, peek at the enigmatic
creature.

Which
only left him with more questions.