Williams, D M - Renegade Chronicles [Collection 1-3]

by David Michael Williams

  “Perhaps,” Stannel replied. “Unless she was in shock.”

  Mitto grunted. “Shock. Yeah, well, that might be it. But I don’t think so. When I looked over at her, she wasn’t crying or trembling or hiding her face. No, she was just watching it all as calm as can be…like it meant nothing to her. You can say it was shock, and maybe it was, but my blood runs cold when I think of it.”

  Stannel didn’t respond. He seemed to be digesting the information, perhaps storing it away for later use. By now, Mitto took the Commander of Fort Valor to be an intelligent man, a good deal wiser than the average Knight. Certainly, he was smarter than Baxter…that damned, brave fool…

  “Let me see if I have this straight,” Stannel said. “When our paths crossed, you were traveling in the company of three people whom you did not trust.”

  Mitto chuckled in spite of himself. “That’s right.”

  Their conversation soon turned to a more practical subject—specifically, where they would make camp for the night. Because of their late start and their horse shortage, they wouldn’t make Fort Valor before darkness fell.

  “The goblins have the advantage at night,” Stannel told him. “They can see better in the dark than we can, if the old stories are true. Better we find a place where we can defend ourselves if we must than risk a confrontation on the open road.”

  Stannel seemed to take it for granted that they’d be able to fend off another attack, even though there were only three Knights left, including the commander. Mitto had survived the first two encounters with the goblins by sheer chance. He doubted that he would be so lucky a third time, but he did take some comfort in Stannel’s confidence.

  Mitto trusted the commander—secrets or no secrets. He trusted him with his very life, which, he reminded himself, was more valuable than gold.

  * * *

  Ruben didn’t like the idea of stopping for the night. There had been no sign of the fiends that day, but he suspected they were out there somewhere. They had tracked them all the way to the lodge, after all. Why stop there?

  He didn’t know what the demons wanted, and he didn’t care—so long as he never had to face them again. And if the fiends were still tracking them, it made no sense to stop and give them a chance to catch up again.

  The Commander of Fort Valor—he had heard Aric call him “Stannel” at one point during the long ride—was in charge, and no one else questioned him. So Ruben held his tongue. He had done his best to fade into the background all day, fearing the Knights would follow Mitto’s advice and bind and gag him again.

  Stannel seemed far too preoccupied to worry about a highwayman, however, and the Knight who kept watch from the rear of the wagon had his attention fixed on the road, glancing at Ruben only every now and then. If Aric thought he was a threat, she didn’t voice her concerns in his presence.

  Only Mitto seemed to remember that he was a captive, and not just another passenger.

  When they pulled off the road and they stopped at a dried-up riverbed, everyone climbed down from the wagon. Mitto suggested once more that they tie up “the wizard.” Stannel flatly refused.

  “He’ll kill us in our sleep,” the merchant argued. “The minute our backs are turned, it’ll start raining fire, and Zeetan will escape.”

  “Escape,” Stannel repeated, looking past Mitto at Ruben. “Escape to where? Wizards aren’t known for being fools, and he knows as well as the rest of us that a single man…spell-caster or not…is no match for an army of goblins.”

  Ruben quickly shifted his eyes, pretending he hadn’t heard the exchange.

  Mitto started to dispute the point but stopped mid-sentence. “Wait…what’s that you said about an army of goblins?”

  The Commander of Fort Valor then launched into his theory about the fiends—the goblins, as he named them—but Ruben didn’t want to hear any more about them. He was beginning to think spending a few years in Fort Valor’s dungeon might do him some good. If nothing else, it would give him time to reevaluate his life as well as protection from the goblins.

  Anyway, Stannel seemed like a decent enough fellow. If he was in charge of the fort, how bad could things be?

  Stannel forbade the lighting of a fire. They sat together in a small circle, sharing what rations they had salvaged from the dead Knights’ saddlebags. Eating the food of the fallen, they spoke nothing of their fears.

  The two Knights who were to take the first watch took to their task stolidly, as though keeping an eye out for monsters was just part of the job. He envied the Knights their courage, that virtue they had earned through years of training and experience. Ruben, for one, was scared out of his wits.

  After the frugal supper, Stannel told them to get some rest. The ground was rocky and hard, and while the Knights had extra bedrolls, Ruben couldn’t get comfortable. The chill of late autumn seeped through the thin material, biting into his bones. Every time the wind howled through the trees, he jerked upright, earning him alarmed glances from the Knights on watch.

  Mitto and Stannel were to take the second and final watch of the night. Ruben felt ashamed yet grateful he was exempt from the responsibility. If a goblin jumped out at him from the quiet woods, he’d likely faint or run away.

  But he didn’t want Aric to know what a coward he was, so he volunteered to help, only to be told by Stannel that prisoners were not expected to post watch.

  So there was nothing to do but rest his head against the cold earth, close his eyes, and will himself to fall to sleep. His attempts were as fruitless as yesterday’s robbery had been, however. As he waited for sleep, he sneaked an occasional look at Aric, who lay beside the little girl. Meanwhile, Zusha snuggled up against the old man in effort to keep them both warm.

  Ruben thought that he’d like to keep Aric warm in that way.

  As he stared up at the overcast sky, which was further obscured by the balding branches of the winter-ready trees, Stannel’s words came back to him: “Wizards aren’t known for being fools.”

  He couldn’t shake the feeling Stannel saw through his disguise. The commander’s eyes seemed to hold a secret knowledge. It was almost as if the Knight had looked into his soul.

  If Stannel did know that Ruben was not a wizard—and the lack of ropes and a gag seemed proof of that—then he was surely playing with him. Stannel might have said, “If you want to keep up the pretense you are a wizard, then you must play the part to the end.”

  He couldn’t guess why the commander didn’t expose him for what he truly was—an ordinary human being with no more magic in his blood than fat on his frame. Maybe Stannel hadn’t guessed the truth, after all.

  And why haven’t I confessed yet? he wondered. That would get Mitto off my back if nothing else. They might even let me go. But where would I go?

  Yes, he thought, better to play my part to the end. At least if they think I am useful, they won’t throw me from the wagon like a leaky barrel.

  Yet there was another reason why he didn’t come clean. He had seen a measure of respect in Aric’s eyes when she had asked him to use his magic to stop the goblins at the lodge. A cleric herself, Aric saw him as a kindred spirit.

  In the end, he knew he would continue to live the lie if for no other reason than to maintain his Aric’s respect—no matter how fleeting her feelings toward him were. She might never love him like he loved her, but he didn’t think he could endure her disgust.

  When Ruben finally drifted off to sleep, he was assailed by terrible nightmares of two distinct varieties. The first kind, which had been common enough in his youth, were dreams of monsters chasing him around a dark forest, jumping out at him, snapping their teeth in attempt to tear him limb from limb. He couldn’t run fast enough to get away, but they never really caught up to him either.

  The second type of nightmare was all the more terrifying for its novelty. Just as Ruben had given up fantasizing about women during his waking hours, so had he banished them from his nocturnal reveries.

  But one female
managed to invade his unconsciousness that night, and whenever she denounced him as a fraud, he died as surely as if a spearhead tore his heart in twain. Unlike the imagined goblins, Ruben could never outrun his guilt and self-loathing.

  Passage X

  For the first time in weeks, Loony Gomez didn’t spend the evening at Someplace Else. A few guests idled in the common room, sipping drinks and keeping to themselves, but there was no sign of the crazy old man. Though Gomez’s drunkenness sometimes got out of hand, Else missed his company. She even missed those lewd stories he told again and again.

  Between welcoming new guests and refilling mugs, she kept an eye on the door, expecting Gomez to wander in at any moment. As the hours passed in a most tedious fashion—none of her customers were in the mood for chitchat—she found herself looking for Gomez more and more.

  When she finally locked up, a sick feeling settled the pit of her stomach.

  She couldn’t help but feel Loony Gomez’s absence was a bad omen. Maybe the old drunk was just sick. Or maybe he had chosen a different inn for once. That in itself wasn’t the happiest of possibilities for Loony Gomez was her most reliable patron.

  But she knew there had to be more to it. She recalled his impromptu departure the night Sir Walden visited. That too had been suspicious. Now Else seriously considered the old sot might be in trouble with the law. Gomez must have recognized Bryant Walden for a Knight of Superius and was avoiding Someplace Else.

  Her sleep was troubled that night, though she couldn’t remember her dreams when she woke the next morning. She rose at the same time she always did. After years of following the same routine, she didn’t need the rooster’s crow to tell her it was time to get up. The few guests who had spent the night at Someplace Else would not likely rise for another hour, giving her plenty of time to go to the local market and buy the food she would need for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

  She reached for her coat and headed down the stairs, her mind was already planning the menu. Her thoughts were far from the worries that had plagued her last night, and so she was considerably startled to find Loony Gomez standing in the midst of the common room.

  “What is the meaning of this?” she demanded. Her suspicions from the night before assailed her. She had never thought of Loony Gomez as a threat, but the fact that he had apparently broken into the inn made her all the more wary.

  Before Gomez answered, he glanced behind himself at a roadside window, reinforcing Else’s fear that the old drunk really was a wanted man. Meanwhile, Else edged closer to the bar, where a number of bottles rested within easy reach. If Loony Gomez tried anything funny, she resolved to club the scoundrel over the head and then run for the nearest constable.

  She shrank back when Gomez spun away from the window and took three great steps toward her. “You ’ave friends among the Knights.”

  It was a statement, not a question, so Else didn’t answer him.

  “I saw Commander Walden in ’ere two nights past,” he whispered. “Do ya deny it?”

  The fact that Gomez was trying to keep their conversation quiet made Else even more nervous. When she finally answered him, she spoke more forcefully—and more loudly—than she might have otherwise, burying her apprehension beneath a façade of anger.

  “I will not deny or confirm anything until you tell me what you are about, Gomez.”

  The man winced at her vehemence—or perhaps it was the volume of her voice. He took a step back and brought up his hands, as though to pacify a hysterical woman.

  “I’m not tryin’ t’ scare ya, girl,” Gomez said, keeping his tone calm. “I’m here t’ save yer life an’ with any luck, many more lives too.”

  “What are you talking about? Are you drunk?”

  Gomez blinked twice, and a crooked smile splayed his chapped lips. “No, m’dear. I’m dreadfully sober at the moment. There’re some things I must tell ya, things you must promise t’ pass on t’ yer Knight friends…t’ Bryant Walden hisself if ya can manage it.”

  Else could scarcely believe what she was hearing. “You want me to be your messenger?”

  “You’ll want to be yer own messenger once ya ’ear what I got t’ say,” Gomez replied.

  She had her reservations, but there was something in the man’s eyes that conveyed a seriousness—and a sentience—she had never witnessed in him before. If the man really was crazy, his madness had taken a new turn.

  “Go on then,” she said with a sigh.

  “What I’m about t’ tell ya may seem unbelievable, but bear with me, girl. The fate of Rydah may well rest on yer pretty li’l shoulders.”

  * * *

  Having survived the night with no sign of goblins, the motely company shared a cheerless breakfast of cold leftovers before setting out on the road again.

  Mitto’s back ached from sleeping on the ground, and even though he and Stannel had been up for many hours—they had stood watch from early dawn—the merchant couldn’t stifle the great yawns that sporadically wracked his body. Few words were exchanged as everyone resumed their places from the day before.

  From the driver’s seat, Stannel Bismarc beside him once more, Mitto let his thoughts drift to all matter of topics. Of course, the goblins weighed heavily on his mind, and he uttered a silent prayer to Pintor, god of protection, to keep them safe on their journey.

  He thought about Baxter Lawler, his old friend. His anger at Baxter’s suicidal—albeit heroic—act against the goblins had dissipated only to be replaced by a hollow feeling. The world seemed a far more dismal place without the mischievous Knight in it.

  Baxter hadn’t been the only Knight to fall to the goblins, and Mitto feared many more would perish before the goblins were chased from Capricon—if they could be chased from the island.

  The past couple of days had brought Mitto face to face with his own mortality. The goblin encounters left him wondering if he would even be missed should one of their spearheads hit home. His work took him all throughout the eastern half of the island.

  He had more acquaintances scattered throughout Capricon than he knew what to do with, but none of them would mourn his death, not really. Baxter might have raised a glass to his memory, but nothing—short of the Knight’s own death—would have kept Baxter down for long.

  It was depressing thought, but he knew there was someone who would be truly saddened by his death. He had seen her face flash before his eyes during the battle at the lodge. And he had fought hard so that he might see that face in the flesh one more time.

  Today, Mitto feared Else might be in just as much danger as he was.

  He knew now he cared for Else Fontane more than he had let himself believe. Maybe it was love, and maybe it wasn’t. All Mitto knew was that he would have given all the gold in Toemis’s purse and then some to be with her at Someplace Else.

  “Stop,” Stannel ordered.

  Mitto obeyed, glancing left and right for hints of danger but seeing none. He knew where he was. Fort Valor stood about an hour down the road. Up ahead, a narrow, overgrown path forked off from the highway curving left. Mitto had heard tell the trail was a route to Fort Faith, a route that bypassed Fort Valor altogether.

  “Why did we stop?” Sister Aric had poked her head through opening of the wagon and now looked from Stannel to Mitto for an answer. “Is there trouble?”

  “No trouble,” Stannel assured her.

  The commander eased himself over the side of the wagon and walked up to the mounted Knight, who had turned his horse around. The Knight lifted the visor of his helm, Stannel spent the next few minutes conversing with the man. Although they were too far away for Mitto to hear anything of what was said, it was apparent Stannel was doing all of the talking.

  Mitto leaned back and crossed his arms. “I think he likes keeping people in the dark.”

  “It’s true that he keeps many things to himself,” Sister Aric said, “but you can rest assured he’ll tell you what you need to know.”

  Mitto flinched. He hadn’t mean
t for the healer to hear him.

  The rider saluted, lowered his visor, and urged his horse into a gallop. Predictably, the Knight followed the main road, heading for Fort Valor. He’ll herald our arrival, Mitto predicted.

  When Stannel ascended the wagon, Aric said, “You must think we have left the goblins far behind if you send our scout away before the fort is in sight.”

  Mitto watched Stannel’s reaction out of the corner of his eye. The man was, after all, the Commander of Fort Valor. He probably wasn’t accustomed to having to explain himself to anyone. But if Stannel was surprised by the healer’s audacity, he did not show it.

  “We are not going to Fort Valor,” Stannel said. “I have sent Sir Ostler there in our stead to spread the word about what has befallen us on the road.”

  “Where are we going?” Mitto asked.

  They were no more than an hour away from Fort Valor. He could already taste the wine, feel hearth’s warmth. And now Stannel was going to take that away from him?

  “That way,” Stannel replied, pointing down the road less traveled.

  Mitto gaped at the offshoot, which looked even more forsaken than it had before. Dead leaves rustled through the dying grass. Bare branches reached down over the path, as though waiting to snatch up unsuspecting travelers. Even if he hadn’t had goblins on the brain, Mitto would have been wary about turning off the main road at this juncture.

  “You mean for us to go on to Fort Faith,” Mitto stated flatly.

  Stannel gave a sharp nod. He too had been staring down the wild path, but now he turned to regard Sister Aric. “I would have offered you the chance to join Sir Ostler, but I knew you would have refused to leave your patient.”

  The healer smiled. “Well, you’re right about that, Stannel. Let us pray you are right in taking this further risk.”

  Stannel said nothing. His face was impassive, unreadable.

  “I know it’s not my place to question your decisions, Commander,” Mitto began, “but wouldn’t it make more sense for us all to go to Fort Valor first? We could pick up provisions and acquire reinforcements for the trip to Fort Faith.”