Horcalus grabbed a torch and peered between bars of one cell. “Maybe you ought to have left one of the guards awake so he could tell us where Ragellan is.”
Klye’s rapid search of the cells had already led him down to the end of the hallway, calling out Ragellan’s name all the while. Doubt began to assail him. Could Scout have been wrong? Maybe Ragellan was on another floor. Maybe he wasn’t even being kept in the prison.
“You’re here for the rogue knight?”
The query had come from the last cell, and Klye called for Horcalus to bring the torch. Plake and Scout followed. The four of them looked through the bars to find a single man returning their gaze.
“Who the hell are you?” Plake demanded.
“I’m Pistol, the pirate king…well, former pirate king, I s’pose.”
“Where is Ragellan?” Horcalus shouted. Were it not for the bars, Klye thought Horcalus might have grabbed the pirate by the neck.
Pistol approached the bars. He had large bags under his eyes—or, at least, the eye that wasn’t covered by a patch—but other than that, he looked healthy enough. As the pirate king spoke, Klye tried to open the cell door with one key after another from the ring he had procured from one of the unconscious guards.
“Ragellan tricked the guards into takin’ him to my execution. Don’t know why he did it. You must be his friends, huh?”
“Ragellan is at the City Square?” Horcalus’s voice was so faint Klye almost didn’t hear him.
“If he’s at the Square, then Leslie will help him,” Klye promised as he continued to tinker with the keys.
If he still had his lock-picking tools, Klye knew he would have been able to open the door in seconds. Finally, the lock gave a satisfying click, and Klye pushed the door open. “You might as well come with us,” he told Pistol. “Leslie may show up at the rendezvous. She’ll want to make sure you’re all right.”
The pirate king shrugged as he walked out of the cell. “Sure beats rottin’ in a prison cell.”
“How are we going to get out of here?” Plake demanded, and no sooner had he posed the question than the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the stairs at the other end of the hall. “We’re cornered!”
“Maybe I’d be better off in the cell,” Pistol laughed, running over to a fallen guard and stripping him of his sword.
Plake repeating the same four-letter word over and over again. The rancher was afraid, and he had good reason to be, thought Klye. There were at least twenty soldiers between them and freedom.
“Any ideas?” Klye asked Scout.
“I’m thinking…”
There’s always a way out, Klye reasoned as he desperately looked around. Trying to fight their way up the stairs was pure folly—literally, an uphill battle. But what other choice did they have?
Never had Klye felt so helpless. Had he really led them all to their deaths? He had been gambling with their lives since before they left Superius. Perhaps he had pressed his luck too far. Not that he believed in luck.
He could see the shadows of the soldiers by the stairs. Klye had faced death plenty of times in the past, but he had never experienced the fear he felt now. Maybe it was because he finally had something to live for, a purpose other than his own greed. At least, thought Klye, if I perish now, it will prove that I’m no pawn of the gods, as Ragellan believes.
“Here they come,” Plake said with an audible gulp. “Maybe we should surrender.”
“There is another way.”
Klye knew that voice. He turned around and found the wall behind radiating a bright light. A man stood in the center of it.
“Who is that?” Horcalus asked, taking a step back.
“Please don’t speak my name,” Elezar warned. “The soldiers are near enough that they might hear. My coming was not without risk.”
“How did you get here?” Plake demanded. “You are an enchanter!”
“More importantly, how are we getting out?” Klye asked.
The first few guards reached the bottom of the stairs, though they paused when the saw the glowing wall.
“There is another way,” the High Priest repeated in a whisper. “It’s a way so many people overlook.”
Elezar stepped back into the wall and was swallowed up by the light.
* * *
“Crooker! Ragellan! Stop!”
Ragellan turned to see who was calling their names and found a lone woman running after them. “Do you know her?”
Crooker stopped and squinted into the distance. “I think it’s…yeah, that’s Leslie Beryl, the Renegade Leader. Should we wait for her?”
“We had better,” said Ragellan, keeping a tight grip on his stolen sword. “She may know where my friends are.”
When she reached them, Leslie ushered them down a side street.
“We’re on our way to rescue Pistol,” Crooker told her. “Wanna come?”
“There’s no need for that,” Leslie said. “Klye and the others were planning to free you, Ragellan, while my Renegades saved Pistol. If I found you, they’ve probably already stumbled onto Pistol. Come on, I’ll take you to the rendezvous.”
Ragellan didn’t know how much he should trust Leslie Beryl, but Klye had seemed confident enough that the woman wouldn’t betray them. Anyway, what she said made sense, and it wouldn’t do for him to get captured all over again.
“If Pistol’s gonna be there, then I’m comin’ too,” Crooker announced.
“Great,” said Leslie, a bit breathlessly, “I’ll lead the way.”
As he followed Port Town’s Renegade Leader up one street and down another, Ragellan prayed that he would find all of the others safe and waiting for him at the end of the trail. It seemed like ages since they were all together.
* * *
Without hesitation, Klye, Horcalus, Scout, Plake, and Pistol followed Elezar into the dazzling white light.
As he was enveloped by the radiance, Klye felt his worries melt away. It didn’t make sense, but it didn’t have to. It felt unspeakably good to relinquish control. His life was in the old priest’s hands now. Strangely, the feeling of powerlessness reminded him of when he had volunteered to go to Fort Faith in the first place.
As he placed one foot in front of the other, Klye heard Plake laugh and say, “A secret passage…how original!”
When Klye could see once more, he realized that they were back on the streets with the rear wall of the prison behind them. He didn’t recall walking up an incline, so how was it they were once more at ground level? Klye tried to reason it out, but he couldn’t. The logic that had served him throughout his life was of no help in this.
“Why was it so bright in there?” the pirate king asked, blinking his one eye repeatedly.
“I must not be seen with any of you,” Elezar said quietly. “May Aladon watch over you on your journey.”
The five men watched in silence as Elezar hurried away, never looking back. With the priest gone, the strange cloudiness in Klye’s mind dissipated. He wondered if some of the poison from the arrow hadn’t yet left his system. Shaking his head, Klye decided it was time he regained control of his band.
“We’d better hurry to the rendezvous,” Klye told the others. “If Leslie’s Renegades touched off a riot in the Square, the mayor may not allow anyone to leave the city.”
“What about Ragellan?” Horcalus asked, grabbing Klye by the arm.
Klye sighed. “We have to trust that Leslie and her men will take care of him. If we go to the Square now, we’re as good as dead.”
The knight did not look convinced.
“If Ragellan isn’t waiting for us at the rendezvous, we’ll come back for him, Horcalus. I swear it.”
His expression morose, Dominic Horcalus released Klye’s arm and sheathed his sword. “I’ll hold you to that promise, Klye.”
* * *
Crofton Beryl sat in the dark. His desk was tipped on its side, and papers littered the floor of his office. Pictures and decorations were
strewn about, most of them broken beyond repair. The mayor had done it himself, venting his frustrations with the Renegades on his unsuspecting furniture. Now, he sat on the floor, leaning against a wall, his throbbing head in his hands.
“You have failed,” said the voice.
Clenching his teeth against the invisible needles piercing his brain, Crofton replied, “We lost today, but next time I will be ready. If it’s a war she wants, it’s a war she’ll get!”
The voice was silent.
“I was unable to keep you safe, Aleth, and our daughter has turned much of the city against me, but the Renegades have not won yet. Leslie—”
“I don’t care about Leslie!”
Crofton opened his eyes. The translucent form of his wife floated before him, her once-beautiful face twisted in rage.
The sight of her made the mayor moan in sorrow. She had died so young, and it had all been his fault. He had been unable to keep her safe. Somehow, a foreign sickness had found its way into her hale body. Maybe one of the ships had brought it to Port Town. Crofton didn’t know, but he swore that never again would such things happen in his city without his knowing about it…
He understood his late wife’s frustration. Leslie had turned her back on them. He knew she was suffering because of their daughter’s betrayal. It was up to him to make things right. He would do whatever his wife’s restless spirit told him to make up for his own negligence.
The phantom of Aleth Beryl hovered nearer. “Leslie will stay in the city. You can kill her at your leisure, but what about the rogue knight? You had him in your clutches, and the other one was surely somewhere in the city. Now both of them are beyond your grasp.”
“I’ll find them,” Crofton swore, though he couldn’t imagine why his wife was concerned with the former Knights of Superius. In response to his unspoken question, a red-hot sun exploded in his mind, and he cried out, “I promise I’ll find them for you!”
“See that you do, Crofton,” intoned the lilting voice of his late wife. “And don’t even think about killing either of them unless you have to. They will be returned to Superius, alive for questioning.”
“Yes, my love,” the mayor gasped. “I will tear the city apart if I have to!”
“There is no need for that,” she said. “They have already left Port Town. Send messengers to the surrounding cities.”
As suddenly as she had appeared, the spirit of Aleth Beryl was gone. Slowly, the excruciating pain in his skull lessened until he felt only a pulsing ache behind his eyes. Tears flowed down his cheeks. As much as he feared his wife’s righteous anger, he hated to see her go. Without her reassuring words, he felt completely alone.
Crofton Beryl pulled himself to his feet and observed the wreckage around the room. Silently, he vowed that he would make Aleth happy again. He would do whatever she asked him. No matter the cost.
Passage XV
Arthur’s breath caught in his throat when yet another rabbit hopped past the stoop of the rundown farmhouse. He forced himself to take deep breaths in order to stop his body from trembling. His grip on the rusty hatchet remained as tight as a death-grip.
You’re being silly, he told himself. It’s only another hare. There’s nothing else out there.
A creak from somewhere inside the house made him jump. It’s just the house settling, Arthur thought. Old houses do that.
Earlier, he had swallowed his fear and investigated the creaky building and almost fainted at the sight of frayed curtain blowing in the wind, which he had mistaken for an angry ghost. He decided he would wait on the porch until the others returned and vowed to ignore every strange sight and sound until then.
As the uneventful minutes past, he asked himself, “What am I doing? How did I get mixed up with Renegades? I shouldn’t have run away from Hylan…”
His thoughts drifted back to his days spent working with his father and brothers on their farm. Another groan from the abandoned house interrupted the boy’s sad daydream. He kept his back to the front door, silently daring the imaginary intruder to grab him from behind.
“It’s just as well,” he muttered. “I was a criminal before I ever met the Renegades.”
The sound of a twig snapping in the overgrown orchard surrounding the farmhouse made Arthur jump again. Dusk was falling, and along with it had come a light mist. Through the gloom, he saw three human shapes coming toward him. Nervously, he fingered the handle of the hatchet.
As the figures came closer, however, Arthur saw that they were not specters. Leslie Beryl and two men he did not know hurried over to the porch.
“Who is that?” asked the older of the two men.
“Chester Ragellan, meet Arthur, the newest member of your band,” Leslie said. “Arthur, this is Ragellan and Crooker.”
Arthur looked from knight to pirate, his face scrunched up in confusion. “You rescued the rogue knight and the pirate king?” he asked Leslie.
“No,” Leslie laughed. “Crooker isn’t the pirate king. He’s a friend of Pistol’s. It’s a long story. Are Klye, Scout, and the others back yet?”
“N-no. You three are the first ones.” He felt awkward speaking with the Renegade Leader, and he could feel his cheeks burning.
But then more shapes materialized out of the haze. Arthur recognized Scout, who was immediately followed by Klye, Horcalus, Plake, and a man with an eyepatch.
“Looks like you just beat us here,” Scout said to Leslie. “I’ll trade you one pirate king for a rogue knight.”
“Ragellan!” Horcalus cried and ran to his friend’s side. “Thank the gods you are alive.”
The reunited knights greeted each other with a firm handshake. “You didn’t miss much, Dominic,” Ragellan said. “Port Town’s prison wasn’t half as accommodating as the Citadel Dungeon.”
“Pistol!”
Before the pirate king could react, Crooker embraced him in a monstrous hug. So stunned was Pistol to find Crooker with the Renegades that he tentatively returned the embrace. Then, realizing that some of the others were watching them, Pistol pushed Crooker away.
“Enough, a’ready,” Pistol said. “I wasn’t in prison long enough to crave the affection of men.”
“Everybody made it back safely?” Klye asked.
“Looks like…wait, where’s the archer?” Scout asked.
Leslie brought her hand up to her mouth. “Othello! Gods, I forgot all about him!”
From out of the shadows by the side of the farmhouse stepped the missing Renegade. His sudden entrance made both Plake and Arthur, who were standing but a few feet away, start in fright.
Arthur stared wide-eyed at the silent-footed forester. Beside him, Plake blushed a deep red that Arthur imaged rivaled his own.
“How do you do that?” Plake demanded.
Othello’s lips curved upward slowly, revealing a rare smile. “Magic.”
Arthur didn’t know whether or not the archer was jesting, but Klye chuckled.
“Good, we’re all here.” The Renegade Leader looked from left to right, studying each of his companions in turn. When Klye’s eyes came to rest on him, Arthur quickly looked at the ground. “We have come together through odd and complicated circumstances, and as much as I would like spend the evening swapping stories, we simply don’t have the time.”
Arthur saw the two Renegade Leaders’ gazes meet for an instant, and he felt as though he and everyone else were intruding.
“It’s probably for the best that we travel at night anyway,” Scout said. “Hey, are the pirates coming with us to Fort Faith?”
Klye turned to Pistol and Crooker. “You are free to go wherever you wish, as far as I’m concerned, but you both would be a welcome addition to my band, if you want to come along.”
Arthur saw Horcalus’s face sour.
Klye continued, “But if you would rather stay in Port Town—”
“There’s nothin’ for us here, except a bounty on our heads,” Pistol said, and Crooker nodded in agreement. “No hard feeli
ngs, Miss Beryl, but I think Crook’ and I’d be better off puttin’ some distance between us and Port Town.”
“Agreed,” Leslie said softly. “I apologize—”
“Not your fault,” Pistol interrupted, and Leslie didn’t press the issue. To Klye, Pistol added, “I don’t know what you’re plannin’ to do at a fort, but Crook’ and I’ll come along. You know the island better than us.”
“Well, Scout knows it, anyway,” Klye said. “Welcome to my band, gentlemen.”
Ragellan stepped forward and bowed before Leslie. “Many thanks for your kindness, milady. If only there were some way we could repay you and your Renegades.”
“Take Fort Faith, and we’ll call it even,” she said with a smile.
Klye cleared his throat. “Ragellan, get everyone ready to move out. Arthur has the supplies. I’ll be back in a moment. Leslie and I have something to discuss, Renegade Leader to Renegade Leader.”
“Bye, Les,” Scout called, waving. “I’ll hurry back as soon as I can.”
“So long,” Leslie replied, giving the hooded Renegade a quick hug. “Take care.”
“Don’t hurry on our account,” Plake called suggestively as Klye and Leslie walked into the trees.
* * *
Harrod Brass was led to the mayor’s office by a servant whose curt replies and stony countenance spoke volumes about the atmosphere within the mansion.
The Captain of the Three Guards was not in the best of moods himself. Overzealous soldiers and panicking civilians had made the task of regaining order in the Square impossible, and not a single rebel had been taken alive during the battle. With a dozen guardsmen dead and twice as many of the city’s citizens slain—some Renegades, some not—Brass had very little to smile about.
When Brass reached the door to the mayor’s office, he found it open, revealing a disastrous scene. Had the mayor not been sitting so calmly behind his desk, Brass might have drawn his sword.
Rebels and Fools (The Renegade Chronicles Book 1) Page 15