And she didn’t have time for lengthy explanations. Time…
“Dear gods in heaven, what time is it?” she asked, and the volume of her voice made the Knight start. “How far is the sun from the western walls?”
Walden regarded her uncertainly before leaning back to look out the window behind him. “The sun will not touch the wall for two hours or more. Else, what is going on?”
Before she could answer, a man of sixty-or-so years wearing the finery of a nobleman entered the room. Else had lived in Rydah her whole life, and the closest she had ever gotten to the Capricon’s lord was when she had caught a glimpse of him at a parade years ago.
Yet there was no doubt in her mind she now stood face to face with Lord Magnes Minus.
The first thing that struck her about Lord Minus was that he had a kind face, and aside from his fancy garments, the man didn’t dress the part of an opulent aristocrat. She had always thought that lords and ladies wore no fewer than a dozen golden necklaces at any given time and that their wrists and fingers were also always covered with sparkling jewelry. Minus wore only a gold pendent declaring his lordly position and a single silver band on his left hand.
As he entered the office, Lord Minus smiled and nodded politely to her. Forgetting herself—she had never been in the presence of nobility before—Else performed a hasty curtsey, though she was wearing trousers, not a dress. She felt very ordinary, very simple before these two important men.
“You must be Miss Fontane,” Lord Minus said. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Am I to understand you have news regarding Toemis Blisnes?”
Else could sense an eagerness beneath the lord’s calm exterior. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to unravel the mystery of Toemis Blisnes to the Lord of Capricon, but of course, she couldn’t.
“I’m afraid she has come here for a different purpose entirely,” Sir Walden said when Else didn’t immediately reply.
“Ah, yes,” she stammered. “Milord. High Commander. I am here to warn you of an invasion that is to occur this very evening.”
Neither man said anything for what seemed like a long time.
“I know it sounds ludicrous,” she continued, “but I am absolutely certain the Renegades are planning to attack the Celestial Palace when the setting sun touches the western wall. In an hour or so, the Renegades of Rydah, along with the members of the Thief Guild who have thrown in with them, will try to take this palace. At the same time, others will make sure the city gates are open for the army that is to attack from without.”
After another long pause, Lord Minus turned to Bryant Walden and said, “Is this not the innkeeper you spoke of yesterday? Or she one of our spies?”
“I am an innkeeper, milord. But I have learned this information from a very reliable source—”
“From whom?” Sir Walden asked.
Else let out a loud sigh. “There’s not time to explain. It’s true that I have no proof to back my claims, but it couldn’t hurt to increase the city’s defenses for just one night. If I am wrong, you lose nothing. But if I am right, hundreds…maybe even thousands of lives will be saved.”
Lord Minus looked to Bryant Walden, who slowly rose to his feet.
“I trust her,” he said to Lord Minus, but then to her, he added, “We have found signs of an impending Renegade offensive, but we had no idea it would come so soon. Yet there has been nothing to suggest an attack from outside…”
“You mentioned an army, my dear,” Lord Minus said. “What kind of an army?”
“I haven’t a clue,” Else confessed. “It may be more Renegades, or maybe the rebels have assembled more allies like the Guild. I don’t know anything else. I wish I did, but I don’t.”
“Perhaps that will be enough.” The high commander’s voice was soft and reassuring. When he turned back to Lord Minus, however, he adopted the tone of a true officer. “I will ready the men for the attack. As always, our defenses are strong, and the men are wary, but I will supplement the sentries along the wall with our reserve units.
As he spoke, Bryant Walden walked around his desk and headed for the door. “I must beg your pardon, madam, but duty calls.”
She did not want to see the high commander go. Just being around him made her feel safer, but of course, he had to ready his men for battle. Now she was alone with Lord Magnes Minus, the ruler of all Capricon. Tearing her eyes away from the empty doorway, she glanced over at the lord and found him staring vacantly out a window.
He turned toward her and gave another warm smile. “You need not worry, Miss Fontane. The city is in Commander Walden’s capable hands. However, if the Celestial Palace may soon be visited by violence, I must insist you accompany my wife, Lady Corrine, and myself to the castle’s keep, where we will safely wait out the attack.”
“Milord, I wouldn’t dare impose—”
Minus waved away her argument. “I insist, and I will not take no for an answer. Come, let me show you the way.”
He took her arm gently and led her out of the office. But before they had even cleared the threshold, several loud booms shook the palace, rattling the glass in its pane. Lord Minus dropped her arm and ran back over to the window. Else was right behind him.
The blasts had sounded like thunder, but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The window provided a vast view of just a fraction of the city, and although they were quite a way up, Else had no trouble making out the shapes of people running—panicking—in the streets below.
“What in Pintor’s name…?”
The lord wasn’t looking at the streets, she noticed, but out at the Aden. She saw nothing amiss at first, but when she shifted her gaze from the coastal roads to the water itself, her breath caught in her throat.
Dozens, perhaps even one hundred, dark shapes moved atop the waves, coming ever nearer to the capital. It was a fleet of some kind, but Else had never heard of any vessel resembling the tower-like ships sailing toward Rydah.
Another boom shook the palace, and this seemed to rouse Lord Minus.
“We must make haste for the keep,” he said, pulling her away from the window.
Else allowed herself to be led out of the office and through a series of corridors. She was oblivious to her surroundings. Her mind was stuck on those foreign ships and what they portended for the capital.
And with every impossible thunderclap that shook the palace’s alabaster walls, Else Fontane could only conclude that the Renegades—and their mysterious army—were running ahead of schedule.
PART 2
Passage I
At the first cry of alarm, Colt headed for the eastern wing.
The vantage of Fort Faith’s tallest tower afforded him a panoramic view of the entire area. Movement on the highway drew his attention. The travelers were still too far away to identify, but he made out a solitary wagon speeding toward the fort at a break-neck pace.
There was no mistaking the creatures giving chase.
“Goblins.”
He spat out the word like a bad taste in his mouth. It hadn’t even been a part of his vocabulary until a week ago. But now he knew the monsters for what they were, and a score or more of them chased the wagon in the distance.
He watched the battle as it began, unable to make out many details. When he saw the streams of fire streaking all around the goblins, however, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Knights, as a rule, disdained magic, but he was beginning to see the usefulness of having a spell-caster around.
Colt’s smile didn’t linger. Between the distance and the smoke billowing up from the scattered fires, he couldn’t discern who had the upper hand. He worried about his friends—and gods above, how he wished he could be with them!
But he wasn’t allowed to leave the fort whenever he fancied. Vanguard aside, he wouldn’t have been welcome among the party of Knights riding hard to join his three friends in their rescue mission. As the Commander of Fort Faith, he couldn’t risk his life needlessly. And so he was forced to wat
ch the action from afar, praying to the gods to watch over his men and dear friends.
It wasn’t the first time he wished he weren’t in charge, and he doubted it would be the last.
If his lieutenant had anything to say about it, he’d never see another battle as long as he lived. From the tower, he could see Gaelor Petton and a handful of other Knights racing toward the battle, but he knew they wouldn’t arrive before it was over—one way or another.
He couldn’t blame Petton for protecting him, but at the same time, he longed to share in his comrades’ danger. And he wanted a chance to strike back at the goblins.
By the time Petton and his men reached the wagon, the battle had indeed ended. He saw no sign of any living goblins, and knowing Cholk, Opal, and Noel, there weren’t any survivors. They left the wagon where it was, but not before unbridling the horses. Then combined company started down the road back to Fort Faith.
Eventually, Colt abandoned the tower and hurried down four flights of stairs to join with Sir Silvercrown and a few other Knights awaiting the newcomers. No one spoke as the assembly drew near—and what a strange assembly it was!
The mounted Knights formed a circle around the unyoked carthorse and those who were traveling on foot, which included a midge, a dwarf, and a human girl. That, on its own, was an odd combination, but as all three of them currently resided at Fort Faith, he had gotten used to them.
As for the newcomers, there appeared to be four of them. He assumed the man bedecked in armor was a Knight, and the woman in white was either a priestess or a wizardess. There was also a man in a three-cornered hat and a girl who was only slightly taller than the midge and wore a big brown coat.
When Petton and Knights came to a full stop before him, he was able to make out two more people in the group. An ancient-looking man lay draped across the back of a black stallion. The second man, atop the same horse, sat doubled-over, his face pressed against the beast’s mane. The old one appeared to be unconscious, but the other fellow was awake despite the fact that his eyes were tightly closed. His moaning could be heard above the clopping of the horses’ hooves.
Lieutenant Petton dismounted and led the unknown Knight up to where he, Sir Silvercrown, and the others waited. With a crisp salute, Petton said, “Commander Crystalus, I present Sir Stannel Bismarc, Commander of Fort Valor.”
Colt didn’t bother to hide his surprise, but he quickly recovered his composure. After clearing his throat, he said, “Welcome to Fort Faith, Commander Bismarc.”
He returned Stannel Bismarc’s salute and was on the verge of asking him a dozen questions at once, but the visiting commander said, “The pleasure is all mine, Commander Crystalus…or is it ‘Commander Colt’?”
He felt his face flush at the use of the nickname his older brothers had given him long ago. He had never cared much for his real name, and so he encouraged his friends to call him Colt. Even some of his men affectionately referred to him as Commander Colt, but hearing that name from the lips of this stranger—a fellow commander, no less—made him feel all of five years old again.
“You may call me either,” he told the Commander of Fort Valor.
“And you may call me Stannel,” he said with a grim smile. “There are important matters we must discuss immediately. In private.”
Colt nodded. There were plenty of things he needed to say to the other man too.
“Come, I will take you to a place where we can talk.” When Stannel cast a preoccupied glance back at the others who had been in the wagon, Colt added, “My lieutenant will escort them to our infirmary.”
“You have my gratitude.” Stannel pointed to the woman in white, and now that she was closer, Colt saw the light blue sash that crossed her chest and encircled her slim waist as well as a silver medallion around her neck. “Sister Aric is a priestess of Mystel. She will help treat the wounded.”
“Very good,” Colt replied, thinking her assistance would be a true blessing. Fort Faith was currently without a surgeon. At the moment, a certain woodsman was taking care of the Fort Faith’s wounded.
But the story behind the forester’s presence—and the presence of several others at the fort—was far too long to get into just then.
Colt led Stannel inside. As they ascended the first great staircase in the entry hall, he asked the other commander whether he needed any medical attention of his own or if he required any refreshment. Stannel curtly refused food and drink, insisting that there were higher priorities.
“You have come in response to my letter?” Colt asked by way of broaching the subject. They were not yet to the commander’s makeshift office in the eastern wing, but he didn’t worry about anyone eavesdropping. Anyway, everyone at the fort was already well aware of the current predicament.
Stannel stopped suddenly, and Colt took two more steps before realizing his guest was no longer beside him. “I have received no letter from you, Commander,” he said. “I have been away from Fort Valor these three days past.”
“Then why—?”
Stannel forestalled him with a raised hand. Fort Valor’s commander made a cursory glance up and down the hallway before saying, “I was on my way to Rydah when my party was ambushed by those same creatures that waylaid us near your fort. I believe they are goblins. I do not know how many of them currently reside in Capricon, but unless I am greatly mistaken, there are very many…an entire army perhaps.
“But what I must know, what I cannot wait any longer to ask, is whether Eliot Borrom made it safely to Fort Faith. Is our prince alive and well?”
Colt drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He had sent a lengthy missive with one of his Knights, instructing the man to present the letter to Stannel before taking it further to Lord Minus in Rydah. He had worried the goblins might slay the messenger before he reached his destinations, and Stannel’s confession seemed to confirm that possibility for the rider had left for Fort Valor a week ago.
Now Colt hardly knew where to begin.
“Prince Eliot did not make it safely to Fort Faith,” he said at last. “It’s a long story, Commander, and you have had a long journey. Let’s have a seat in my office, and I’ll tell you everything.”
Colt started to lead the way once more, but Stannel stood rooted in place. “I insist you tell me the prince’s whereabouts immediately.”
Looking at an unremarkable stone in the wall, Colt said, “As far as I can tell, the goblins have Prince Eliot in their custody…and they’ve had him for some time.”
Stannel’s face paled. “Then it is as I feared.”
“It’s worse than you have feared,” Colt said bitterly. “The man you, I, and even Lord Magnes Minus took for Prince Eliot was no man at all, but a goblin shaman in disguise.”
* * *
Klye held the book close to his face. Even though his eyes scanned the words on the pages, he wasn’t really reading them. Colt had found the manuscript, along with a few other books, stashed away in a small, dusty room that might have served as Fort Faith’s library before the Thanatan Conflict.
The book had escaped the ogres’ notice during the pillaging that had surely followed the sacking of the fort. Not that that was surprising. Ogres weren’t known for their interest in literary works.
From what Klye had gathered from the first few paragraphs, the book was a diary of some low-ranking Knight who had been stationed at Fort Faith more than three hundred years ago, back when the fort was newly erected. The Knight wrote at length about the dullest topics, and Klye would have discarded the journal altogether except that the long-dead Knight’s tedious record was far more engaging than the words of the man in the sickbed beside him.
“It’s not like the pirates did anything worse than the rest of us,” Plake was saying—despite Klye’s obvious show of ignoring him. “It ain’t right that they’re down there in the dungeon by themselves while everyone else is free to walk around the fort.”
Unable to restrain himself any longer, Klye dropped the book on his lap and
said, “I can arrange for you to join them, though your company would make it a worse punishment.”
Plake scowled. “Very funny. But if you have so much sway with Colt, why don’t you just ask him to let them out of there? They’re your responsibility.”
Klye retrieved the diary. Let the rancher rant the afternoon away. He didn’t have to justify himself to the likes of Plake Nelway. Like everyone else in the infirmary, Klye would tune him out.
“Some leader you are,” Plake grumbled. “If anyone should be down in that dungeon, it’s you. You’re the Renegade Leader. You brought us all here!”
Klye gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to throw the diary at him. If I were quick enough, I might even hit his broken nose, he thought.
When Lieutenant Petton entered the infirmary, Klye forgot all about Plake. He watched the Knight warily. If the lieutenant had had his way, he, Plake, and the rest of the Renegades would be sharing the dungeon with the pirates. Gaelor Petton had made no secret of his distrust and dislike for Klye and his band.
And the feeling was mutual.
Klye had not seen Petton the past couple of days, and he had never come to the infirmary without Colt before. He wondered if he had come to add to the threats he had already issued—promises both spoken and unspoken. But the lieutenant didn’t even glance his way as he passed by his bed.
Petton was not alone. Following him was an unusual entourage, including a white-robed woman and a man dressed like a wizard. The latter clutched at his stomach and looked to be on the verge of passing out. Two Knights carried another man into the room, though Klye couldn’t get a good look at him. The wounded were laid to rest on the vacant beds on the other side of Sir Matthew Fisk.
Upon seeing Fisk, the woman asked, “Is this man alive?”
“He lives,” Petton answered, “though just barely. This man has kept him from the clutches of death for the past few days.”
Williams, D M - Renegade Chronicles [Collection 1-3] Page 60