But today, riding with on such an urgent errand and with the threat of goblins hanging as heavily as the moisture in the air, Stannel hardly noticed the grand trees, which were almost completely bare. The only smell that filled his nostrils was the tang of rotting vegetation.
No, there was something else too, a new odor, though Stannel couldn’t immediately identify it. The scent reminded him of a campfire, but at the same time, there was a sickening taint to the otherwise agreeable aroma.
His skin prickling, Stannel urged the palfrey ever faster. His heart pounded in his ears, but he did nothing to slow his pulse. Once he crested the hill before him, he would have an unencumbered view of Fort Valor.
But what to make of the gloomy haze darkening the sky?
Then he understood.
A metal-clad fist seemed to take hold of his insides and squeeze mercilessly when he reached the top of the hill. He doubled over in his saddle and closed his eyes to block out the terrible sight, tears streaming down his beard.
Passage VII
Thanks to Scout, Mitto had seen most of Fort Faith on his first full day there. All throughout the tour, the rebel spoke of people Mitto had never heard of, including the Mayor of Port Town and his daughter, Leslie, who had become a Renegade Leader somewhere along the line. Scout also talked about the men—and woman—who made of Klye Tristan’s band, regaling Mitto with a most incredible story.
Scout had even offered to introduce him to Klye, who was recovering in the infirmary, but Mitto flat out refused him. It wasn’t that he was intimidated by the prospect of meeting a Renegade Leader—well, that wasn’t the entire reason.
It was the sickroom’s other occupants he was really avoiding. He guessed Zusha, the girl who looked and acted like a young child but wasn’t, spent most of her time there, and he wanted nothing to do with her or her grandfather.
Let Sister Aric take care of the girl. She wasn’t his responsibility. And as for the healer, Mitto held an admittedly irrational grudge against her. Since Stannel wasn’t there to bear the brunt of his anger, Aric would have to pick up the tab.
However, by his second morning at the fort—really, his third day at Fort Faith—Mitto was tempted to call a truce in his one-sided grudge with the healer. Opal had proven good company that first evening, but he had not seen much of her since then. And since the Knights seemed to have neither the time nor inclination to converse with him, his companionship was limited to the very man whom, yesterday, he had done all he could to ditch.
Most of that second morning was spent in conversation at the breakfast table, where Scout retold just about all of same stories as yesterday. By this time, Mitto was beginning to see how all of the tales fit together. And since the major details remained the same from one telling to the next, he was forced to concede that Scout could be telling the truth.
He listened closely as the Renegade spoke of his encounters with goblins, beginning with an ambush in the sewers of Port Town.
“I’d been down there before,” Scout said between mouthfuls of porridge. “In the sewers, I mean. It’s not the most pleasant of places, but when you’re on the wrong side of the law, you have to make do with what you have…and it’s not like anyone in the Three Guards was likely to follow you down there.”
Scout, who apparently didn’t even remove his black hood during meals, took a big bite of bread before continuing. “Of course, now that I know there are goblins living down there, I’ll steer clear of the underground passages for a while.”
Mitto surprised himself by asking, “But the goblins attacked you, right?”
“Yeah,” Scout said, his mouth full of food. After swallowing, he added, “I was taking Leslie and Klye to an inn called Oars and Omens. Klye’s men were staying there, and so were a clan of pirates who were considering an alliance with Les’s Renegades.”
Mitto remembered Scout telling him how Leslie Beryl had sought out some pirates, hoping to supplement her own forces with the battle-ready buccaneers. The two pirates who were locked in a cell beneath Fort Faith had been from that clan, though Mitto couldn’t recall why Pistol and Crooker had joined Klye’s band.
There was simply too much to keep straight, and Mitto was interested only in how the goblins fit into everything.
Still, after learning of Leslie’s plan to hire mercenary pirates to fight beside her Renegades, Mitto couldn’t help but wonder at how far the rebellion might have gone if the goblins hadn’t been revealed as the true threat. The Knights and Renegades at Fort Faith had put aside their differences in the face of foreign invasion, but would others follow suit before it was too late?
Scout was also worried about those he had left behind in Port Town.
“None of us knew what the monsters were at first,” the rebel was saying. “We thought maybe they were new creatures that no one had ever happened upon before…that maybe they had lived down there since the days when dwarves ruled the island. We had no way of knowing the goblins were planning an invasion.”
Scout’s expression soured as he spoke. “For all I know, Les still doesn’t know what the goblins have planned. She’s probably still under the impression that her father, the mayor, is the enemy. I’d bet all the beer in Hylan that the goblins are somehow using their vuudu to control him. I’ve known Crofton Beryl since I was no taller than this table. He used to be a hero to the people, but now he’s a menace. If I could only convince the Knights to let me go so I can go back and warn everyone…”
The man lapsed into an uncharacteristic, brooding silence. For the rest of the meal, he said nothing, and Mitto likewise remained silent. Hearing Scout’s account of the goblins in Port Town’s sewers sent chills down his spine. If the goblins had settled beneath that city, who could say what kind of a hold they might have in Rydah?
Most of all, Mitto wondered how many of the damned monsters already called Capricon home.
It was a depressing subject to ponder, so when Scout offered—as he had offered the day before—to introduce him to some of the other Renegades, Mitto thought twice before turning him down. On one hand, he had little else to do, since he hadn’t yet thought of a plan to get him safely from Fort Faith to Rydah.
On the other hand, the other Renegades might provide more information about the goblins. Scout hadn’t been there for the actual fight that had taken place in Fort Faith’s war room, the battle that had pitched Knight and Renegade alike against a powerful goblin wizard.
Deciding that he ought to learn everything he could about the enemy before returning to Rydah, Mitto said, “All right.”
From what Scout had told him yesterday the Renegades were allowed to roam Fort Faith freely. Their weapons had been confiscated, though Scout still wore a small, empty sheath at his belt. Aside from the two rebels recovering in the infirmary and the one who was assisting Sister Aric, the others spent most of their time together in an empty storeroom.
Mitto had passed by the room with barely a look yesterday, but today he followed Scout through the wide entryway, feeling both nervous and excited.
Ultimately, he was disappointed to find nothing more than an old table, some chairs, and a lot of open space inside. He had envisioned a room full of rough-looking, battle-scarred men huddled together, plotting their escape from confinement. Instead of a small mob, he found no more than three people occupying the room.
One of them sat beside the table, staring out a window. He looked to be no more than sixteen years old, which was far too young to be a Renegade, as far as Mitto was concerned. The other two rebels, a man and a woman, were engaged in combat.
While the rebels had been forced to forfeit their weapons, the wooden practice swords that the warriors wielded apparently posed no threat to the Knights. As he followed Scout over to the young man by the window, Mitto didn’t take his eyes off the duelists.
The man, who stood a half a foot taller than the woman, had an almost mechanical style, his body and weapon acting and reacting in carefully measured movements. The woman,
who wore her blond hair in a short ponytail, attacked and counterattacked in a similar style, but Mitto thought she had to work a little harder than her opponent. Her face was slick with sweat, and unlike the man, she was breathing hard.
“Mitto, I’d like you to meet Arthur,” Scout said. “Arthur, this is Mitto.”
The boy merely glanced at the two of them for a moment before returning his gaze to something out the window.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Mitto muttered.
Scout made a face at the boy’s turned head before leading Mitto away from the table.
“You have to forgive him,” Scout whispered. “He’s been like this ever since we got here. No one knows why. Even Horcalus, who is a bit claustrophobic, has taken to captivity better than Arthur. But he’s young…he’ll bounce back…I think.”
Mitto nodded absently. He had already dismissed the dismal youth from his thoughts and was once more watching the man and woman swing at each other with the blunt swords. It wasn’t the merchant’s first time seeing a woman warrior, though many cities refused to employ female soldier—and the Knights of Superius had yet to admit a single woman in their ranks.
Women warriors typically found employment in mercenary bands, where skill, not gender, decided one’s pay. After hearing so much about Leslie Beryl and now seeing this blond swordswoman engaged in mock battle, Mitto realized the sex was overlooked within the rebellion too.
And he was impressed with the Renegade woman, who fought as passionately and skillfully as any Knight Mitto had witnessed. As he watched the woman gracefully avoid her rival’s weapon, he noticed for the first time something inherently intimate in the struggle of life and death, even when it was merely an imitation.
When the couple’s swords locked, the man proved stronger of the two, though the woman pushed back with all of her might. Then, she suddenly darted to one side. At the sudden loss of support, the man pitched forward a step. The woman tried to take the advantage, spinning around with her wooden sword extended in hope of catching the man in the back.
Unfortunately—because Mitto found himself rooting for the woman—the man nimbly dodged the blow and countered with a strike of his own, aimed at the hilt of his opponent’s weapon.
The dull sword hit the woman’s hand with a loud thwack. Crying out in surprise and probably pain, she dropped her weapon and grasped her offended hand with the other. Smoothly, almost routinely, the man followed through with his move, returning his mock blade to the ready before bringing his elbow back and thrusting the sword forward into his rival’s belly.
“You are dead,” the man announced and then drew back his sword, which had stopped an inch from her abdomen.
The woman flapped her wounded hand like she was trying to dislodge the pain. Then she brought her knuckles up to her mouth. Mitto expected her to be angry in defeat, that the passion of the fight would overflow into the aftermath of the struggle, but to his surprise, the woman laughed.
“I thought I had you there at the end,” she said.
The man shrugged. “You weren’t far from it.”
Mitto watched their body language, hoping to find some hint about the nature of their relationship. But if the two were anything more than practice partners, he couldn’t discern it. Truth be told, he was having some difficulty believing the two of them were Renegades. They seemed too…civil.
Beside him, Scout burst into applause. “Well done, Horcalus.” To the woman he said, “You’ll get him next time.”
Both combatants regarded Scout and Mitto blankly.
Mitto cleared his throat.
“Oh, yeah, right,” Scout began. “This is Mitto O’erlander. He’s a traveling merchant who got stranded here because first highwaymen and then goblins attacked his wagon. Mitto, this is Dominic Horcalus and Lilac Zephyr.”
Horcalus made a slight bow. “Well met, Master O’erlander.”
“Please, call me Mitto.”
The swordsman nodded, but said nothing more. Lilac took his hand gingerly and gave it a slight shake. Her knuckles were still red from where Horcalus’s blade had smacked them.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she said.
Now that he was standing face-to-face with her, he saw she was rather plain, and yet her smile had a charm all of its own.
Before any of them could say anything more—not that Mitto really knew what to say—the boy beside the window jumped to his feet so suddenly his chair clattered noisily against the table.
“What is it, Arthur?” Horcalus was already moving toward the boy.
Arthur didn’t reply, and when Lilac and Scout followed Horcalus over to the window, Mitto joined them.
“Look! Someone is coming…riding hard,” Scout said, pointing at a shape on the horizon.
The four of them watched in silence as the solitary rider drew nearer. Mitto squinted against the brightness of the sun, for the window faced east, and the day was still young.
A second later, Mitto recognized the man who racing toward the Fort.
* * *
Colt nearly had to run to keep up with the older commander. Stannel said not a word as the two of them retraced the steps they had taken just two days prior. Colt stole sidelong glances at his fellow commander, trying to find whatever clues he could, but Stannel’s stolid stare, which focused unwaveringly before him, revealed nothing about why he had returned to Fort Faith so soon.
Colt didn’t even know whether Stannel had made it to Fort Valor before turning back to Fort Faith. It didn’t seem likely, judging at how short a time Stannel had been gone. Why, he would have had to turn around immediately upon reaching his fortress to make it back so soon, Colt reasoned. And even then he would’ve had to travel day and night alike.
When they finally reached Colt’s office, the younger commander gestured for Stannel to take a seat, which he did without comment. Colt took his own place across the desk and waited for the Knight to explain himself.
Staring into Stannel’s green-blue eyes, Colt might have thought he was looking at a different man altogether. Stannel looked older somehow, as though all of his years—and then some—had caught up with him all at once. The image of the depleted Knight lingered for but a moment. Then the Commander of Fort Valor took a deep breath and began his tale.
Colt sat engrossed as he listened to Stannel recount his encounter with the goblins while taking a rest off the road. Stannel glossed over much of the details of the battle, sufficing it to say that the Great Protector had seen him through the struggle. He explained how little else of consequence had occurred during his trek to Fort Valor, but when Stannel spoke of the peculiar feeling that came over him and the strange smell in the air that grew stronger as he neared his destination, Colt felt something heavy in the pit of his stomach.
“There is nothing but rubble left of Fort Valor.”
The words nearly knocked Colt off his chair. Surely, he had misheard the man. “What?”
Keeping his gaze level, Stannel said, “Fort Valor is no more.”
“But…but how?” Colt stammered. While he had never seen the place with his own eyes, he suddenly found it impossible to believe the fort was gone.
“I do not know how. The battle was over before I arrived.” Stannel said these last words with just a hint of bitterness. “All I know is that my fortress has been utterly destroyed. The towers were felled like trees, and the walls resemble those of a sandcastle that cannot hope to withstand the tide. Everywhere is the stain and stench of fire, as though something had burned through solid stone.”
Colt could only shake his head. He had seen many marvels since his arrival, had witnessed magic in its many forms—from the powers of his own crystal sword to T’slect’s vuudu spells that had destroyed much of Fort Faith’s western wing—but he simply couldn’t imagine any spell powerful enough to burn a stone fortress to the ground.
What chance did the Knights have against a foe that could decimate a castle just by uttering a few words?
He didn’t know what to say to Stannel, could not conjure up any words of comfort. Nothing could ever make up for what the man had lost. Colt had yet to forgive himself for the men who had been killed by T’slect. The loss of everything—and everyone at the fort—would have surely crippled him.
“I found no sign of survivors,” Stannel said, answering Colt’s unasked question. “There were bodies of men and goblins alike strewn about the area. The Knights were picked clean of weapons and armor. The goblins cared as little for their own dead as they did the bodies of their enemies, leaving them to rot where they fell. Then again, I am no better for I did not linger long enough to dig graves.”
“Stannel, I am so dearly sorry—”
The elder Knight cut him off. “There is no time for that now, Colt. I left the corpses for the vultures because I know they are beyond my help…beyond the help of any man now. Their souls reside in Paradise beside Pintor and the other Gods of Good. Now is not the time to lose ourselves in sadness or regret. Now is the time to act.”
Stannel’s calm exterior made the ardor of words all the more powerful. The Knight was hurting inside, Colt was sure, but Stannel appeared to be using his pain as an impetus rather than another obstacle.
Pushing his own pain aside, Colt swallowed hard and asked, “What do you propose we do?”
“We now know for certain there is at least one goblin army in Capricon. We must spread word as far as we can, from one coast to another, if possible. But our priority still lies with warning Lord Minus and the capital.”
Thinking Stannel was perhaps planning to take on that mission alone, Colt said, “I agree, but such an important task cannot be trusted to one man alone.”
“Yes,” Stannel said, “but the group must be small so they can travel with all speed while avoiding detection.”
Colt was already nodding. “My own forces are small, but I can spare Knights for this mission.”
“No.”
Colt blinked in confusion.
Stannel added, “We do not know where the goblins will turn next. If they set their sights on your fortress, you will need each and every one of your men ready to defend it.”
Williams, D M - Renegade Chronicles [Collection 1-3] Page 66