“On the contrary,” Petton countered, “since I cannot convince you to wait until tomorrow morning, it is in the best interest of Fort Faith that its commander is well-protected and assisted during his mission.”
As he welcomed Sir Wessner to join the search party, Colt gave Petton a smile, grateful his lieutenant wasn’t treating him like the lovesick youth he probably resembled.
“Sir Silvercrown will be accompanying you as well,” Petton added.
“But Zeke is in command of the night guard. I cannot ask him to come,” Colt said.
Without looking at Colt, Petton replied, “I am to take his place tonight.”
Colt didn’t know what to say. The lieutenant was willing to stay up all night so his commander could embark on a mission he, Petton, thought unwise. “Sir Petton…I…”
“Your thanks are neither necessary nor welcome, Commander,” Petton replied. “You can express your gratitude by finding Miss Opal and returning with you, her, and your men all in good health. And might I suggest parting ways with the midge before you are welcomed back to Fort Faith?”
Colt shrugged noncommittally.
He had not particularly wanted Noel to come along, but the midge insisted. Actually, he had begged, promising his magic would be of great help. Colt didn’t want to think about what harm the little spell-caster might do, but neither did he wish to leave Noel at Fort Faith with Petton and the others. Reluctantly, he had agreed to let Noel tag along.
He had agreed to other things too…
Descending the grand stairway into the entry hall, Colt found Cholk leaning against one of the thick columns supporting the high, vaulted ceiling. Sir Ezekiel Silvercrown, bedecked in a cuirass of plate and ring mail, stood beside the dwarf, testing his longsword in its scabbard.
Cholk was covered in masterfully crafted armor composed of overlapping plates. The hauberk did not shine in the flickering torchlight, as Sir Silvercrown’s did. The dwarf’s armor appeared dull and black even in daylight, Colt knew, for the body armor that covered Cholk from head to toe was not made of metal, but of the carapace of some creature from his homeland.
A stout short sword hung from his belt, but Colt had never seen the dwarf use it, for Cholk preferred the iron battle-axe strapped to his back, a war trophy taken from an unlucky ogre during his time in Thanatan. The weapon’s length was more than half of the dwarf’s height, but Cholk bore its considerable weight without difficulty. A variety of notches and scratches decorated the crescent blade. The battle-axe was no stranger to battle—and neither was Cholk.
“About time you got here,” Cholk said. “Maybe you can talk some sense into that fool of a midge. He thinks he’s coming with us.”
Colt spotted Noel sitting on the other side of the room, slumped up against a column.
“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 lead
ing 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 couldn’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.
Williams, D M - Renegade Chronicles [Collection 1-3] Page 36