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

by David Michael Williams

  Meanwhile, there was nothing to be done but watch and wait…and worry.

  Someone was behind her. She didn’t know how she knew, but the certainty struck her with staggering force. An icy fist clenching her heart, she tightened her grip on the vorpal sword and spun around, expecting to find goblins sneaking up on her.

  “Greetings,” said a fair-haired man atop a chestnut charger. “I had not expected to see you again so soon.”

  “Dylan!” Lilac gasped, nearly swooning in relief. Behind the Knight, riding horses of their own, were Gomez and two other men she didn’t know.

  Gomez made a mock bow from up in his saddle. “Well met, m’lady.”

  “May I ask just how you ended up here?” Dylan said. “I thought you and your companions had departed for your fortress.”

  Lilac didn’t know whether the Knight asked out of curiosity or suspicion, but she was too cheered by his presence to be insulted by any insinuations. “We were headed for the fort when we found the…um…remains of one of our lost companions. We followed the goblins’ trail in hopes of saving the other.”

  Dylan silently digested the information.

  “And what brings you so far from Rydah?” she asked.

  Now the Knight’s expression eased a bit, and Lilac thought she saw a slight smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “We needed to find the precise location of the goblins’ war camp. I volunteered for the job, as did Gomez and two of his boys, Tryst and Lucky.”

  Lilac studied the “boys” in question. While she didn’t know which man was Tryst and which was Lucky, she assumed that Lucky was the one whose face wasn’t fixed in an unrelenting grimace. If Dylan had seemed at all skeptical of her story, the man she figured for Tryst was openly dubious.

  Both were old enough to have children of their own. Still, if Gomez had been the leader of a guild of thieves, she supposed the older man might have referred to all of his male employees as “boys.”

  “Are you sure this woman is who she seems to be?” asked the scowler. “Might be she’s a goblin wrapped in a spell.”

  Lilac caught a glimpse of something shiny near the pommel of the saddle. The man had a dagger in each hand. He gripped them by their blades, as though he were getting ready to throw them. She looked back to Dylan, whom, she assumed, was in charge of the mission.

  The Knight turned in his saddle to regard the suspicious thief, but it was Gomez who spoke.

  “Shut yer yap, Tryst.” Lilac thought he sounded more like a scolding father than a master criminal. “If she was a goblin, she’d not likely be standin’ here all by her lonesome. And if I’m guessin’ right, it was her handiwork we saw back there.”

  “If you’re referring to the dead goblins, you’re correct.” Lilac said. “But I didn’t do it alone.”

  “Where are your friends?” Dylan asked.

  Lilac opened her mouth to answer, but she was interrupted by a deafening boom from somewhere behind her. She turned in the direction of the racket and saw black smoke billowing up from the goblin camp. She was near enough to the fire to smell the noxious fumes but far enough away that she couldn’t make out the source of the blaze.

  Her first thought was Opal had slipped out of the tent while her back was turned and was fighting for her life deeper within the camp. But she immediately dismissed the idea when she spotted the larger tent, which was shaking. Unusual shapes pushed the canvas walls to their limits throughout the scuffle inside.

  Come on, Opal. Get out of there! Lilac silently pleaded.

  The rest of the camp was a flurry of activity. Some goblins pushed their way towards the fire and others ran in the opposite direction. Very few of the monsters were paying any attention to the tent. The fire was providing an excellent distraction. And at that moment, Lilac understood what—or, rather, who—had caused the explosion.

  “Othello,” she whispered.

  “What’s happening?” Sir Dylan had dismounted and stood beside her.

  “A diversion, I think,” she replied. “Opal entered that tent over there to rescue our friend, Colt.”

  Even as Lilac drew Dylan’s attention to the tent, the thing collapsed. Three shapes could be seen struggling beneath the tarp. Lilac breathed a sigh of relief when one of them proved to be Opal. The woman looked to be in one piece.

  Someone else—a goblin—crawled out from under the far edge of the tent. Rather than stay and fight, the monster limped away.

  They watched as Opal rushed over to the third form and cut through the material with the crystal sword. When Colt pulled himself out of the entangling cloth, Lilac thanked the Benevolent Seven.

  Her breath caught in her throat, however, when a ring of goblins formed around the pair.

  “They’ll not make it,” Dylan predicted gravely.

  Lilac prayed that Knight was wrong. For the moment, the goblins hung back. She supposed it was Chrysaal-rûn that kept them at bay. Still, she knew from experience that as the goblins’ numbers grew, so too would their courage.

  Even with the crystal sword, there were too many for Opal and Colt to fight off alone.

  The two humans did the only reasonable thing they could do. They ran. Lilac held her breath as Opal slashed through one goblin while simultaneously pushing past another. She wondered why the woman hadn’t returned the crystal sword to its rightful owner, but then she saw that Colt carried a weapon of his own.

  “Come on,” Lilac muttered. “You can make it…”

  But Opal was heading in the wrong direction. Without hesitating, Lilac stepped into the clearing and waved her arms. Opal must have spotted her then for she immediately corrected her course.

  “What in the name of the Pit, the Crypt, and Abaddon does she think she’s doing?” Tryst demanded. “She’ll lead ’em right to us!”

  “Turn those horses around and get ready to ride,” Dylan barked.

  Lilac didn’t bother to see if the others obeyed. She couldn’t take her eyes off of Opal and Colt. The goblins were fast, but the two humans kept ahead of the mob, which seemed to grow larger by the moment.

  Even if they do make it to the forest, Lilac though, we’re in for the run of our lives.

  She glanced back at the others and found Dylan atop his horse once more. As for the others, they had already brought their mounts about. Her eyes met the Knight’s, and she couldn’t find the words to make her request.

  But Dylan answered her unspoken question in a mild voice. “You’d best climb up. Though we’ve only just arrived, it’s time we all were leaving.”

  * * *

  His heart filled with hope, Ruben set out for Port Stone at a quick pace.

  It wasn’t long, however, before the rigors of the hike began to slow him down. Aside the brief rest they had taken after exiting the hidden passageway, they had been walking for the past two hours. Such physical exertion was beyond his custom, and he had only just gotten over an injury.

  Moreover, neither of them were dressed for the weather. The cold wind penetrated his threadbare wizard’s robe and the clothes beneath, robbing Ruben of whatever enthusiasm he might have had left.

  They were forced to stop several times to rest. Ruben felt guilty for holding them up, though Arthur never protested when he asked to take a break. They hadn’t spoken much since deciding to head for the deserted port, and yet Ruben felt as though the distance between him and the young Renegade had diminished somewhat. Arthur seemed to have snapped out of whatever spell had held him earlier.

  Unfortunately, Arthur had exchanged his mask of apathy for an expression of unease. Ruben supposed he wore a similar look. The farther they traveled, the more time he had to consider the many dangers around them.

  First, there were the goblins. If their path crossed, he and Arthur would surely die. And then there was Toemis, who possessed a knife and the will to wield it. They were unarmed, and even if they had weapons, Ruben was no warrior. He could only hope that Arthur would pick up the slack or, better yet, that they might avoid violence altoget
her.

  Eventually, they heard the sound of water and soon after came upon a wide river. Arthur verified it was, in fact, the Divine Divider River and that Port Stone lay somewhere on the other side.

  For a moment, Ruben simply stared at the glossy black surface of the water. The river was much wider than he had expected. A quick survey of the area revealed no bridge or ferry. On the best of days, Ruben might have been able to swim across, but now he felt exhausted just thinking about it. Gods above and below, the water was probably cold enough to freeze the blood in their veins!

  “How are we going to get across?” he wondered aloud.

  “There’s a pier in Port Stone that serves as a bridge. We could cross there,” Arthur said.

  Without another word, the two of them started walking again, following the river south. They had gone less than a mile when Ruben caught sight of something on the other side of the water. He blinked twice, hoping his weary eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.

  But the image remained—outlines of buildings and a long stretch of planks extending across the river.

  We found it! Ruben marveled. At that moment, it didn’t matter that Toemis might not be there. He reveled in their achievement. He was beginning to think there wasn’t anything he and his unlikely companion couldn’t handle. We may not have brawn, but we’ve got our wits, he thought triumphantly.

  His zeal began to fade, however, as they made their way across the rickety pier. From a distance, Port Stone had been a welcoming sight, but as they got closer, the place had a far less friendly feeling to it. War and time had taken a toll on the town, robbing it of all vibrancy and color. The port was unnaturally still, with only the wind and the occasional creak from a dilapidated building to break the ghostly silence.

  All that Ruben knew about the Ogre War was what he had heard in song and story. Those bards of magnificent talent, whom he had admired since youth, painted tragic panoramas of fire and slaughter. Ruben himself had never seen an ogre, but as he took in the desolate scene all around them, he imagined the minstrels had not needed to exaggerate in recounting the brutes’ ferocity.

  The son of a gravedigger, Ruben had long ago become acquainted with death and what it did to the human body. He had buried too many corpses and had spent too much time in the cemetery to put any stock in tales of stubborn spirits who refused to pass over to the other side. There were too many things in this world to worry about—things that were solid and real—without inventing phantasmal concerns.

  But while the graveyard where his father had worked had held a sense of peace, Ruben found Port Stone far less tranquil. It wasn’t so much a place of eternal rest as it was a permanent monument to destruction and the aggressive end to life. The only things that moved were the shadows.

  He blamed his exhausted mind for his discomfort. It’s because I’ve been on guard all night against goblins, he told himself. Gods above, there are no such thing as ghosts!

  “Where should we start looking?” Ruben asked, speaking more to banish the eerie silence than anything else. Although few of Port Stone’s structures remained standing, there were enough hiding places to keep them searching all night.

  “When I was here with the Renegades, we stayed there.” The boy pointed to a largish building straight ahead of them. “It’s an inn…or at least it was.”

  As they crossed what must have once been the town square, Ruben realized a new day would be dawning soon. Already the first rays of morning were smothering out the stars with dull, gray light. He let out a great yawn in spite of himself.

  They approached the inn cautiously. Ruben watched the windows, searching for signs of someone within. When he reached the door, he inched it open slowly, causing a wail-like screech to fill the derelict inn. Gritting his teeth against the sound, Ruben thrust the door open the rest of the way. He was both relieved and disappointed to find the place unoccupied.

  “The rooms are this way,” Arthur whispered.

  The boy pushed past him and stepped lightly across what might have been a common room. Their search of the inn yielded nothing but empty beds. Ruben found himself yearning for the old, worn-out mattresses. His eyelids felt twice as heavy as they should.

  When they reached the last room—which was also Toemis-less—Ruben said, “Maybe we ought to take a rest. An hour or so of sleep will do us both some good.”

  “What about Toemis and his granddaughter?” Arthur asked.

  “Well,” Ruben began, straining to find a justifiable reason for the indulgence, “aside from the fact we’re nearly dead on our feet, I think we’ll have an easier time of finding Toemis once the sun rises. Besides, if he wanted to wait out the night here in Port Stone, we’ll have no trouble spotting him when he tries to leave. It’ll be faster than searching every house.”

  Arthur rubbed the back of his hand across as his eyes as he thought it over. “I guess that makes sense.”

  “It’s settled then,” Ruben announced. “We’ll sleep just until the sun comes up and then wait for Toemis to make his move.”

  The room contained two beds, so they each took one. Ruben was so tired he might have contentedly curled up on the floor. As it was, the stiff, smelly mattress felt like a small piece of Paradise. He closed his eyes and almost immediately fell asleep.

  His last conscious thought was of how he wouldn’t be Ruben the Highwayman, but Ruben the Hero when he returned to the fort with Toemis in tow.

  * * *

  Opal’s and Colt’s eyes widened when they reached the trees and saw Dylan and the others.

  “There’s no time to explain,” Lilac said from her place behind Dylan. “Mount up, so we can ride away from here!”

  Although he had never before seen Gomez before, Colt extended a hand to the former Guildmaster, who helped him up onto his horse. The commander carried what looked like a staff of some sort. Black feathers and a leering skull decorated the grayish rod. Lilac had no idea why the Knight would want to keep such a horrible-looking thing, but now was hardly the time to debate differing tastes in weaponry.

  Opal hesitated. “Where is Othello?”

  Lilac blinked in surprise. She had forgotten the forester entirely! “He wandered off. I suspect he’s the one who started the fires.”

  “We have to wait for him,” Opal said.

  “If we wait, we die!” Tryst argued.

  “He’s right,” Dylan said. “We must flee. If you are coming, get on a horse. If not…”

  Opal just glared for a moment, and Lilac realized with a start that she—not Dylan or Tryst—was the recipient of that angry look. Lilac felt ashamed for considering leaving Othello behind. But they simply could not wait.

  A few of the goblins came crashing through the trees. They abruptly halted upon noticing the mounted humans, but Lilac knew that their surprise would quickly wear off.

  Cursing loudly, Opal joined Lucky on his horse. With a forceful cry, Dylan urged his charger into motion. The forest began whipping past Lilac at a remarkable speed. One misstep, she thought, and we’ll be thrown from the animal. At their current pace, they’d be lucky not to break their necks.

  Lilac held onto Dylan tightly. She was tempted to bury her face into the Knight’s back, close her eyes, and try to shut out reality. Instead, she turned partway around. Gomez’s horse was blocking her view of the others, and all she could see of Colt was the skull from his staff peeking over the thief’s shoulder like an emblem of death.

  Passage XI

  Stannel searched the two men for signs of conspiracy, but both Dominic Horcalus and Klye Tristan looked genuinely surprised by the news.

  It was a reaction he had seen all too often that morning—from the sentries on duty last night to Lieutenant Petton, who stood at his side now. Why, Stannel himself must have worn a similar expression when Aric had told him of her missing patients less than an hour ago.

  When a scouring of the fortress revealed that Arthur was gone too, Stannel had made for the infirmary with all haste. The Renegade
s’ bewildered faces didn’t inspire confidence in a quick resolution, however.

  “This makes no sense,” Horcalus said. “Why would Arthur have left the fort in the company of virtual strangers? How could he even have managed it? This must be a mistake.”

  Since taking command of the fort, Stannel had spoken with Horcalus on two separate occasions. The first time had been during the interview process—he had spoken one-on-one with all of the Renegades—and the second time, they had chatted for a while when, by happenstance, Stannel had wandered into a room where Horcalus was sparring with an invisible opponent.

  He knew most of his men kept their distance from the Knight-turned-Renegade, but Stannel liked Horcalus, who if nothing else, was a polite and companionable fellow.

  “We are not mistaken,” Petton replied. “And you two would be wise to divulge everything you know about the boy’s escape.”

  Klye glared at the lieutenant but said nothing.

  “Arthur had been acting strange lately,” Horcalus said, “but I assumed it was because of the tremendous strain of recent events. Could I have mistaken scheming for suffering? No, it isn’t possible. Arthur is incapable of such machinations. If he has left the fort, then he has done so under duress.”

  Petton scoffed. “It is far more likely that the young rebel and the highwayman took Toemis and his granddaughter as hostages.”

  “To what end?” Klye demanded.

  “We can speculate and argue about scenarios all we like, but we will likely not know the truth until we track them down.” Stannel turned to the Renegades. “Neither of you believe Arthur willingly fled the fort, but do you have any idea of where the boy might have gone if he had a say in the matter?”

  Klye let out a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling as he thought. “I don’t know an awful lot about Arthur. We met him in Port Town, where he was working as a dockhand. I figured the only reason he stayed with us was because he hated his job. Or maybe he was afraid to go back.”

  “I suppose rebels don’t need to be very selective in their recruiting,” Petton said wryly. “Why bother asking about past crimes when you’re hiring a man to do more?”