“You didn’t kill him, did you?”
“Not yet.”
When he got closer, Colt realized Noel was neither dead nor napping. The midge was reading a small leather-bound book and mumbling something to himself. He scrambled to his feet when he noticed Cholk and the Knights standing over him.
“You’re just in time,” Noel announced. “I just finished casting the spell that will take us to Opal.”
Passage VII
Colt held Noel’s innocent gaze in astonishment, marveling at the midge’s lack of discretion.
Oblivious to the discomfort he evoked, Noel tucked his spell book in a large pouch hanging from his thick belt. Magic was an intrinsic part of Noel’s life. Apparently, he couldn’t understand how others might be less receptive to the idea of using it.
But Colt couldn’t blame Noel for spilling the beans about the spell they would use to track down Opal. It was Colt’s own fault for not telling Cholk about it earlier. He had put off that unpleasant conversation for as long as possible, irrationally hoping he might avoid it all together.
There was never a good time to talk to a dwarf about magic.
Cholk grabbed Colt’s arm. “You can’t be serious.”
The dwarf’s deep voice resonated throughout the cavernous hall. With a sigh, Colt turned around to regard the dwarf, who was practically trembling.
“Your mind must be as addled as the midge’s,” Cholk continued. “Letting him tag along is one thing, but now you’re going to use his magic? I’m beginning to wonder if the midge hasn’t cast a spell on all of you!”
“My name is Noel!” he shouted, taking a dangerous step closer to Cholk. “See, there’s even a big letter N sewn onto my robe.”
Colt placed himself between them. “Listen, Cholk. We were all hesitant about leveraging Noel’s magic, but Opal’s life could well be at stake. We can’t waste time probing the countryside, hoping we’ll run into her. And I won’t waste time arguing about this. If you don’t want to accompany us, stay here. Your ability to see in the dark and your prowess as a warrior will be greatly missed, but I will have no contention in the party.”
Cholk’s fuzzy black eyebrows rose, and Colt wondered if he had pushed the dwarf too far. Then Cholk chuckled. Throwing up his hands, he said, “You may have lost your mind, Colt, but your backbone is still intact. We’ll do things your way, but don’t blame me if the midge and his hocus-pocus gets us lost…or worse.”
Colt let out a deep breath. “How exactly does the spell work, Noel?”
“It’s already working,” Noel said as he bent down and picked up something from the floor—a crossbow. “So long as I have this, ‘a possession linked to the target’s life-essence,’ I can follow the pull to her location.”
“Is this like the pull that took you to Albert’s room?” Cholk muttered, but Colt shot the dwarf a withering glance, and he didn’t interrupt again.
“So you know where Opal is now?” Colt asked Noel.
“No, but I can take you to her.”
“Then let’s go.”
Colt nodded a farewell to Petton, who gave a sharp salute in reply. The lieutenant had been as skeptical about using Noel’s magic as Cholk was, but Petton had not pressed the issue, claiming this was Colt’s mission and he should manage it as he saw fit.
Dusk had settled over the quiet territory around Fort Faith by the time they closed the doors behind them. Colt had always had the feeling that the Knights were the only people on the island when he looked out at the plain and the jagged-peaked mountains beyond.
But now he knew they were not alone. Somewhere out there was an old surgeon, his dear friend Opal, and a band of Renegades.
Noel led the way, holding the crossbow before him like an oversized divining rod. Colt and Cholk followed close behind the midge. Colt was comforted by the dwarf’s presence; the search party needed Cholk for his keen eyes, which could pierce the veil of the oncoming darkness. But he depended on Cholk for support as well. With the brave warrior marching beside him, Colt felt as though they could not fail.
Sir Silvercrown and Sir Wessner brought up the rear. He glanced back at the two Knights, giving them a reassuring smile, which they both returned tentatively. Colt was grateful for their company as well. While he did not know Gregory Wessner very well—Lieutenant Petton frowned upon officers commiserating overmuch with subordinates—Colt had spent more than a few sleepless nights in the company of Subcommander Ezekiel Silvercrown. Zeke had a friendly, straightforward manner that Colt found engaging.
That Zeke and Sir Wessner would accompany him on such a dubious mission—following a midge into the night to search for a woman who may or may not be a captive of Renegades—said much about the Knights’ faith in their leader. Noel, too, was putting his life at risk for no other reason than to be helpful.
As the five of them cut a swath across the quiet landscape, the weight of Colt’s equipment began to tell. Minor aches crept up beneath his armor, and sweat tickled his warm skin as it trickled down his body. The day had been hot, and while the air was cooling as the sun dipped behind the Rocky Crags, it was still quite humid.
They said little as they followed Noel, who remained surprisingly quiet while leading them in a southwesterly direction. Soon the creaks of their armor and the scraping of boots were the only sounds they contributed to the chirruping crickets and gentle breezes through the tall grass.
More than the physical discomfort and weariness, Colt was beleaguered by impatience. He had briefly considered conducting their search from atop horses, but despite the relatively even ground beneath their feet, Colt knew that the shadows of twilight concealed imperfections in the terrain. A gopher hole was little more than an annoyance to a man; that same crevice could leave a horse lame.
They took a short break when the stars began to poke through the carapace of darkening night. Colt stared straight ahead at nothing while they caught their breath and rubbed body parts that were sore and chafed. He knew they were doing all they could, including tapping into the mysteries of the arcane, but their insufferably slow pace was irritating.
More than anything, he worried about Opal. The letter from Fort Miloásterôn had warned that the Renegades of western Capricon were growing more aggressive, more overt in their efforts. Commander Calhoun mentioned open rebellion in the streets of Port Town and a large rebel force invading the city of North Port. Clearly, the Renegades were willing to take drastic measures in their attempt to usurp the crown from the King of Superius.
Colt had seen the rebels’ desperation firsthand on his trek from Castle Crystalus to Port Errnot in West Cape. He, his cousin, and his uncle, Sir Rollace White, had been waylaid by a Renegade Leader named Osric Curraal.
Osric had learned about Colt’s promotion and wanted to capture—or kill—the newly appointed commander long before he reached his post in Capricon. Osric Curraal had surrounded himself with a motley band of misanthropes. The three Knights had been outnumbered four to one, but none of them considered surrender as an option.
Sir Byron Vanguard, Colt’s cousin, didn’t survive the battle. Colt and Sir Rollace would surely have joined their kinsman in death if not for Cholk’s interference. The dwarf had been a member of Osric’s Renegade band. To this day, Colt did not know how Cholk had come to serve the outlaws, but the dwarf betrayed the Renegades that day.
Only the Renegade Leader had managed to escape.
Osric Curraal had been a merciless man, thirsty for bloodshed and hungry for victory at any cost. Colt had no reason to believe Capricon’s newest Renegade Leader would prove to be any different, though Colt prayed to Pintor the Warriorlord that Opal was still alive.
If these rebels had done anything to Opal, Colt swore he would teach them all the meaning of the word vengeance.
* * *
It took only a few minutes for the Renegades to gather their gear and prepare to depart. Klye briefly considered rearranging the inn’s furniture so it didn’t look so lived-in, but they co
uldn’t hope to hide all of the tracks they had left around the ghost town. Nor could they replace the dust that was conspicuously missing from floors, bedspreads, and tabletops.
The Knights would easily guess that the Renegades had stayed in Port Stone, but Klye planned to be long gone before they ever got there.
The most difficult part of their evacuation was managing the prisoner. Red went out of her way to be difficult, refusing to take a step as they readied to leave the port and dragging her feet when he ordered Pistol and Crooker to assist her.
Klye was mighty curious about Red, particularly why she was staying at Fort Faith, but he had more important things to worry about. Scout recommended heading for the mountains where, among the caves and cliffs, they could lay low. But first, they had to put some distance between themselves and Port Stone—not to mention Wizard’s Mountain.
So the band of eight and their captive followed the foothills of the Rocky Crags due north. Klye didn’t like the idea of going closer to Fort Faith, but going south wasn’t an option. According to Scout, the crags that sprawled south and east of Port Stone were all but impassable due to a number of steep climbs, sudden drops, and frequent landslides. They would make their camp in the mountains to the west of Fort Faith, where a well-placed lookout could keep an eye on the Knights’ movements in the valley below.
As they drew nearer to the fort, following an old road for a time but ultimately leaving it behind as it curved eastward, Klye called for absolute silence. He had no idea how far a patrol might stray from the fort—or even if they would venture forth at night—but he would not allow idle chitchat to jeopardize their safety.
His eyes sweeping the darkening countryside for signs of trouble, Klye used the time to sort out his next move. How might he use Red to gain leverage over the Knights of Fort Faith? But even as Klye plotted, his mind wandered back to Arthur’s accusatory queries about Horcalus.
In truth, Klye did feel as though he were abandoning the man, even though Horcalus had left the Renegades of his own accord. What could Klye have done differently to avoid that bitter farewell? And what could he do now to make amends?
They were forced to slow their pace when the sun was swallowed up by the stony peaks to their left. Klye followed Scout, who walked a few yards before the band to make sure the way was clear. Othello brought up the rear, occasionally cresting the top of a hill to ensure there was no threat to their flanks.
When they finally took a break, Klye pushed his concern for Horcalus from his mind. Although they were practically out in the open, with Fort Faith closer than Port Stone, Klye allowed himself to relax a little. Letting his mind wander, his thoughts turned to the midge.
Why is this bothering me so much? he wondered.
The King of Superius had publicly encouraged foreigners to settle in Capricon, and the midge were members of the fledgling Alliance of Nations—which was enough to justify a rebellion in itself, Klye mused. While it was unusual to find a midge inside a Superian fortress, it was perhaps not completely unheard of. For all Klye knew, he was an ambassador of Pickelo, the midge homeland.
With a sigh, Klye pushed thoughts of the midge aside too. It was time to renew their hike into the mountains. The band felt incomplete with both Ragellan and Horcalus gone, but Klye had to admit that it felt good to be on the move again. His spirits lifted considerably when he imagined the Knights combing the woods or ransacking Port Stone in search for Red.
Klye allowed himself a half smile, certain the Knights would never catch them.
* * *
Colt felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. When the rescue party had started out, they had been heading as much to the south as to the west. Gradually, their path had leveled out, however, taking them almost due west. Now, with the western foothills before them, they were actually angling back to the north a bit.
He ordered a halt.
Noel glanced back at him. The pointed, straw hat cast his face in shadow. “Are you tired again already? We’re getting really close now, Colt. If we stop now, we might never find her.”
“Noel…” He drew in a deep breath, not knowing quite where to start. “We’re heading in a completely different direction from when we started. Are you sure your spell is working?”
“Of course it is,” Noel replied, lifting the crossbow toward Colt, as if that should explain everything.
“Then why didn’t you just take us this direction in the first place?” he asked.
Noel used one of the crossbow’s limbs to scratch beneath his hat. “Because Opal wasn’t over here before. Now she is.”
“Noel, that’s impossible, unless…”
Colt stopped, his mouth hanging open. Of course! The reason they could not follow a straight line to Opal was because Opal herself was on the move. Bolstered by Noel’s declaration that she was close by, Colt resumed the march at twice the speed.
As they rushed forward, following the invisible tether that connected the crossbow to its owner, Colt feared for Opal all the more. The woman had spent most of her life—at least what she could remember of it—in the wilds of Ristidae and, after that, roaming the Continaen countryside. Opal knew better than to travel through unfamiliar territory at night. If Noel was right, it meant that Opal was being chased.
Or, worse, she had already been caught and was being led somewhere sinister in the middle of the night.
Colt didn’t wallow in his fears for long. After a few minutes, Cholk stopped the company. The dwarf’s eyes seemed to flash with a white gleam as he peered out into the night. Before Colt could ask him what he saw, the dwarf pointed a finger and said, “There’s a group of people out there, moving north. I’d wager there’s at least half a dozen of them. Maybe more.”
“Is one of them Opal?” Sir Wessner asked.
“Don’t know.”
Colt turned to Noel. “Is that where the…um…pull is coming from?”
Noel gave the crossbow a good shake, looked in the direction Cholk had indicated, and shrugged. “I think so, but it’s hard to tell.”
Colt chewed his lower lip. Other than a few shallow mounds of earth, there was no cover whatsoever between them and the Renegades. And Colt was somehow sure this was the Renegade band Commander Calhoun had warned him about. He was equally certain they had Opal.
“If we cannot take them unawares, we might consider parleying,” Zeke Silvercrown suggested.
Colt didn’t want to talk with the Renegades. He recalled his cousin, dear Byron, pinned to the ground by a Renegade’s spear. No, he thought, talking with the monsters was not likely to get them anywhere but dead.
And yet he couldn’t risk Opal’s life by ordering an overt attack.
“If only there was some way to make sure Opal was out of harm’s way,” Colt muttered.
“Leave it to me!”
Colt glanced over at Noel in time to see the midge splash some powder over Opal’s crossbow. The nonsensical syllables of magic wafted to his ears as he dove for the midge. There was a flash of light. He hit the ground hard, his hands closing around nothing but air.
Noel was gone.
* * *
Klye knelt atop a small hill with Othello. The archer had informed him there was someone out there—five someones, to be exact—but squinting out at the plain, Klye couldn’t distinguish one shadow from another.
“They wear armor,” Othello told him, and those three words quashed Klye’s wishful thinking about wandering wolves.
“Knights,” Klye spat. It had to be them. He had no way of knowing how the Knights had tracked them down so efficiently—so miraculously—and that unsettled him. “At least, we outnumber the enemy for once. Can you see what they are doing?”
Othello, an arrow nocked in his longbow, stared out into the night. “They are still…probably watching us.”
Klye turned to the rest of his band, motioning Pistol and Crooker to bring the prisoner forward. For once, Red didn’t put up a fight.
“It seems your frien
ds from the fort are nearby,” he told her. “How did they find us?”
Red’s glare expressed her opinion of him with as much vehemence as her sharp tongue had earlier. Well, the feeling was mutual.
A grunt from Othello stole Klye’s attention. “There was a flash of white lightning in the midst of the Knights. Now I see only four of them.”
Magic, Klye fumed. A second flash of light erupted nearby, and Klye spun around to find the Renegades were not alone. Off to his left, a short man in a blue robe and a pointy hat was rubbing his eyes. He was only a couple of yards from Red.
Crooker and Pistol reacted first, holding the blades before them as they charged. Klye stood transfixed, as the midge traced an arcane symbol in the air. An overgrown spider web sailed through the air, striking the pirates head on. Pistol and Crooker struggled against the sticky strands, but their blades could not cut the magical net. The more they struggled, the tighter the web wound around them.
Klye heard the swish of Othello’s arrow, but the shaft missed its target by less than an inch.
Klye still couldn’t move.
When Red began to run toward the small spell-caster, her hands still tied behind her back, Klye finally snapped out his paralysis and ran to intercept her. If the midge got close enough to the woman, he’d surely whisk her away as effortlessly as he had arrived. And without Red, the Renegades would lose the upper hand in dealing with the Knights.
The tip of the midge’s staff belched forth a ball of orange flame. Klye squinted against the brightness, dove to the ground, and rolled under its grasping tendrils. He regained his footing at once and continued forward.
The wizard reared back to fire another spell from his staff, but Klye was quicker. Rather than go for Red, Klye pounced on the midge. The staff flew out of his grasp. The wind rushed from Klye’s lungs—and likely the midge’s lungs too—as they crashed to the earth.
Klye drew in a big breath as he lay atop the midge, pinning to him to the ground, but the air caught in his throat now that he had a better look at his adversary.
Rebels and Fools (The Renegade Chronicles Book 1) Page 36