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

by David Michael Williams

  Gomez’s face provided Colt with all the confirmation he needed. The old man’s eyebrows, which had been furrowed beneath a relief map of wrinkles, shot skyward. His mouth curled at each end to form an enormous grin.

  The next moment, Gomez gave the newcomer a not-so-gentle shove.

  “Gods damn you, Lucky. You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

  Beside Colt, Opal let out a quiet laugh, and Colt found himself smiling too. Everyone watched as Gomez dragged Lucky over to the warmth of the stove, all the while berating the thief for being “pokey.”

  Rolling his eyes at Gomez and Lucky, Tryst took another sip of his tea. Though he had never said a word to him, Colt liked Lucky better than Tryst. Where Tryst was pushy, cynical, and just plain rude, Lucky was quiet and easygoing. The man wasn’t a mute, but Lucky was clearly comfortable with letting others do the talking.

  Five minutes later, the cottage was empty, and fourteen riders with little in common except a grudge against the goblins followed a narrow trail through the expansive forest that covered northeastern Capricon. They were companions by circumstance, allies out of necessity.

  Although Colt outranked Dylan, the commander had no qualms with letting him lead the way. For one thing, Dylan knew the quickest route to Hylan.

  Colt took up position behind Dylan and Lilac, who rode together since there weren’t enough horses to go around. Colt had been more than happy to partner with Opal. Even though this wasn’t a pleasure trip, he basked in every moment he was near the woman.

  Each and every one of them kept a wary eye on the shadow-strewn forest, an eerie environment that could conceal all manner of predators. A wan sliver of a moon lit their way, its light bleeding through the sheet of clouds stretched across the sky.

  In silence, the troupe trudged forward…

  To Hylan.

  To hope.

  Passage III

  Dylan had predicted they would reach Hylan by late morning, but the sun had passed its pinnacle hours ago and was now making a slow but steady fall to the western horizon.

  Lilac couldn’t blame Dylan for his miscalculation. For one thing, the impatient Knight had probably never made the trip without running his horse at a full gallop. She knew racing through the woods at night would have been suicidal, yet even after dawn, the company maintained a conservative pace.

  They stopped every few hours, giving the horses the chance to graze and providing the riders an opportunity to stretch and empty their bladders. No stranger to long stretches in the saddle, Lilac grew impatient with the frequent breaks, but she never voiced her complaints.

  Not everyone was in as good shape as she was.

  While Colt, a Knight of Superius, might have pushed through his weakness on pride alone, Mitto suffered through every minute he spent on horseback. The middle-aged merchant had earned a vicious wound en route to Rydah, and he was not fully recovered—though he did his best to hide it, especially from Else. If it hadn’t been for Othello, Mitto would have died in the woods, never knowing Else had survived the fall of Rydah.

  Othello…

  He was back there somewhere. Logic told her that he was dead, but her heart wanted to believe otherwise. There had always been something uncanny about the man. If anyone could outmaneuver the goblins in the thick forest, it was Othello.

  When they finally reached the end of the trees, Lilac couldn’t help but cast a final glance back, half expecting to find that the silent forester had been following them all along. Of course, he was not there.

  As they left the forest behind, the land sloped up and then down, which slowed them even further. At some point—she had lost all track of time—Dylan announced that they were very near their destination. Lilac scanned the hilly landscape for signs of civilization. She thought she saw a squat, stone building off in the distance, but she couldn’t be certain.

  As reluctant as she had been to leave the cottage—and Othello—behind, Lilac was now eager to reach Hylan. Her eyelids grew heavier with each passing minute. What she needed was sleep, preferably in a bed. She had had her fill of hard planks.

  Her time at the cottage seemed more like a dream than reality. She had done her part to help with sentry duty, but mostly she had just been waiting for Othello to make a miraculous reappearance. She also thought a lot about the other Renegades back at the fort. And she had considered trying to talk Colt into going back immediately.

  But she never did work up the courage to confront Colt, who looked like he had been to the Crypt and back. As a matter of fact, the only person she had really talked with was Dylan. The older sister of a Superian Knight, she had found common ground with Sir Dylan Torc, though their conversations hadn’t delved too deep.

  None of the other Knights seemed interested to chat with her, possibly because she was a Renegade. She might have gotten to know Else and Mitto better, but the recently reunited couple treasured what little privacy they could get. And Gomez, Lucky, and Tryst formed their own clique.

  Which left Opal…the last person Lilac would have approached for companionship.

  Lilac suspected Opal was still holding a grudge against her for an incident that had happened back when the Renegades and the Knights were still at war—before anyone knew the goblins were working the two political factions against each other.

  Moreover, Opal blamed her for Othello’s absence. The forester had taken off during their raid on the goblin war camp. While Opal rescued Colt, Othello had slipped away and started an enormous fire for a much-needed diversion. If they had waited for the forester, they all would have perished.

  What Lilac couldn’t figure out was why Opal cared so much about Othello at all.

  Whatever her reasons, Opal seemed to accuse Lilac with every glare. But what Opal didn’t know was that Lilac also blamed herself for deserting the forester. She wondered how she would tell Klye and the others when they finally returned to the fort.

  Her peripheral vision picked up movement in the elms lining the path. Lilac’s hand went for her weapon a moment before her brain could register that they were being ambushed.

  Her fingers wrapped around the hilt of the vorpal sword. Whatever enemy had caught her unawares would soon learn the peril of crossing her. Between her skill at swordplay and the enchanted blade that could rip through the strongest of materials with little effort from its wielder, Lilac Zephyr was no easy mark.

  She was on the verge of vaulting off the horse to confront the goblins, when she felt Dylan’s hand press on her leg to keep her in place.

  The ambushers were not goblins, but men—Knights, judging by their costume and demeanor. Swords drawn, they regarded Dylan’s company with suspicion. Lilac spotted three archers among their ranks, which meant there were probably a few more hidden somewhere back in the trees.

  She silently commended the Knights for their stealth. They wore dun-colored overcoats to better blend in with their surroundings, and some had even dulled the shine of their mail with mud.

  “State the pass-phrase!” one of the Knights hollered.

  To Lilac’s relief, Dylan answered without hesitation. “Larks dally away this fine autumn day.”

  When none of the surrounding Knights eased off, Lilac began to worry Dylan was mistaken. The Knight who had first spoken, a hale specimen with arms the size of fence posts, look a step toward Dylan, keeping the arrow in his crossbow trained on the man’s chest.

  “A goblin spell-caster might have been able to pluck the pass-phrase from the true Dylan Torc,” the crossbowman stated.

  “Then why even bother having a pass-phrase?” Dylan snapped. “You know who we are. Did you think we weren’t coming back…hoping maybe?”

  His brash reply caused Lilac to flinch. The Knights of Superius were not known for having a sense of humor.

  The unfamiliar Knight merely returned Dylan’s stare, however, as though his shrewd eyes might penetrate the imagined vuudu enchantment.

  “Let us pass, Sandros,” Dylan said, crossing his arms. “Or w
ould you rather I prove my legitimacy by disclosing intimate details about your time as a squire?”

  Still, the crossbowman—Sandros—did not budge.

  Dylan cleared his throat dramatically. “Your first night away from home, you cried like a—”

  “Lower your weapons!” Sir Sandros called. He lowered the crossbow to his side and gave Dylan a half-hearted salute, which Dylan returned without enthusiasm.

  “May I introduce you to Sir Saerylton Crystalus, Commander of Fort Faith,” Dylan said, indicating Colt with a wave of his hand.

  Colt mimicked Sandros’s stiff salute. “Former Commander of Fort Faith,” he corrected. “Fort Faith has been renamed Fort Valor in honor of the original Fort Valor, which has been destroyed.”

  Sandros’s face paled. “Fort Valor is no more?”

  Dylan cleared his throat. “We come bearing important news…”

  Sandros nodded and stepped off the path. “May the Warriorlord watch over you,” he said as the group of fourteen started forward once more.

  Tryst muttered something sarcastic in response to Sandros’s reference to the Knight’s patron god. She glanced over her shoulder and watched the Knights return to their hiding places between the stalwart elms.

  Removing her hand from atop the vorpal sword’s pommel, she turned her attention ahead and watched as the distant structures grew in size. As they crested a final hill, she got her first unobstructed view of Hylan.

  * * *

  Taking in the single avenue lined with several small buildings, Colt might have called Hylan a one-horse town, except he could see two steeds tied to a post outside what appeared to be a store.

  When they reached the first building, Dylan dismounted, and everyone else followed suit. Dylan told his Knights to take the horses to the stable, which they did without comment. Colt’s eyes followed the men as they walked the animals over to a building farther down the dusty road.

  “This place was never intended to house an army,” Dylan said, though Colt wasn’t sure whom he was addressing. “The local farmers would come here to buy supplies, trade, and socialize. I would wager the stable has never been so full.”

  They bypassed the store Colt had noticed earlier and came to a stop outside one of the few two-story buildings in the village.

  “The Knights of Superius have never had much of a presence here,” Dylan stated, turning to regard Colt. “There are no walls or towers, no barracks. There isn’t even a proper office since the mayor works out of his home.

  “And since Hylan has its own militia, there was never a need to station Knights here. The villagers would call upon the Knights in Rydah only if things got out of hand, which didn’t happen often in a place so small.”

  The whitewashed building’s sign had faded beyond legibility, but Colt was certain it was an inn. He had done some traveling in Superius before joining the Knighthood. With their father’s coin, he and his brothers had always opted for the finest lodgings.

  In spite of its rundown appearance, Colt thought the inn looked like a palace. The prospect of a straw mattress alone was a blessing from above.

  “There wasn’t enough room for everyone to stay here,” Dylan continued after a thoughtful pause. “We had to ask the local farmers and huntsmen to put up most of Rydah’s refugees.”

  As Dylan spoke, Opal gravitated toward the inn’s door. Colt had invited her to lean against his back and sleep during their ride, but the jostling horse—or the threat of a goblin ambush—had kept her awake throughout the night and the start of the day.

  Dylan quickly positioned himself between Opal and the door. “My apologies, miss, but it wouldn’t be proper for a lady to enter what has become the barracks.”

  “Then where in the hells are we supposed to sleep?” Opal demanded. “If you think I’m going to hike to some homestead and share a room with a brood of brats, you’re sadly mistaken.”

  Dylan’s tanned complexion took on a rosy hue. “Actually, we converted the back of the storehouse into quarters for the women.”

  “Female Knights?” The question had come from Lilac.

  Dylan looked even more embarrassed. “Ah, no, not exactly. Some of Gomez’s thieves had been staying there, but they were assigned to border patrol not long before we left for Rydah.”

  “Good lasses, ev’ry one of ’em,” Gomez boasted. “Quiet as cats, with eyes…and claws…just as sharp.”

  “I can attest to that,” Tryst laughed while making a show of rubbing his back.

  “Good…we’ll have the place to ourselves,” Opal said to Lilac. “Not that I’m picky. I’m so tired I’d share a room with an ogre.”

  An ogre but not a handful of farm children? Colt thought. He tried to imagine Opal raising children of her own but couldn’t. The notion left him feeling sad. He had always liked kids…

  “Where is this storeroom?” he heard Else ask. Colt glanced back at the middle-aged woman and found her looking as bleary-eyed as the rest of them.

  “In the back part of the shop,” said Dylan, pointing back the way they had come.

  “Why didn’t you say before we walked past it?” Opal demanded. “If I don’t get some sleep soon, I’m bound to get cranky.”

  With that, Opal started walking toward the shop. Lilac flashed Dylan a sheepish smile, and then she and Else left the group.

  Dylan, his face clouded with bewilderment, said nothing as the woman departed. Colt figured Dylan—whose reservoir of nervous energy never seemed to run dry—that the other members of the company were weary after their long ride. If the young Knight was at all tired, he didn’t show it.

  Dylan looked at Colt and the others as though really seeing them for the first time that day. “Um, why don’t we see if there is any vacancy in the barracks?”

  No one argued.

  The seven men entered the inn and trudged up the creaky, wooden steps. They came upon a hall of doors. Dylan tentatively peeked inside the first one, only to find it occupied. The next room was also full, but the third was empty.

  Well, not exactly empty, Colt realized. There were clothing and other belongings strewn about, but the owners were nowhere to be found.

  “Finders keepers,” Tryst intoned as he plopped himself down on one of the beds.

  Dylan cleared his throat. “I suppose we can rest here until the sentries return for the night. I’ll find out where we should stay when I give the report.”

  If the others heard what Dylan was saying, they didn’t respond. Tryst was already wrapping a blanket around himself. Colt thought he saw the glint of steel before the thief’s hand slid beneath his pillow. Lucky and Gomez chose beds nearest Tryst’s.

  Mitto sat upon a bed next to Gomez’s. The merchant gingerly reclined, grimacing in discomfort as the wound in his side stretched. When he found a suitable position, Mitto let out a contended sigh and closed his eyes.

  “Commander,” said Dale, “perhaps it would be best if you came with me. They will want to hear what you have to say about Prince Eliot…the false Prince Eliot…and about Fort Valor.”

  Although he had known the request would come, Colt couldn’t hold back a sigh.

  “Lead on,” Colt replied.

  Dylan hesitated a moment, glancing down at something. Colt followed the Knight’s gaze to the vuudu staff, which Colt still carried. Dylan looked like he was going to say something but then thought better of it.

  Colt briefly considered leaving the staff behind. He entertained the idea for no more than a second, though. With one hand steadying Chrysaal-rûn’s scabbard against his leg and the vuudu staff in the other, Colt cast a longing look back at the empty beds and followed Dylan outside.

  * * *

  Once inside the shop, Lilac paused to take a look at her surroundings. The space behind the counter was unoccupied, and the shelves were all but bare. The place smelled like a blend of cinnamon, sage, and old wood. Ahead of her, Opal lifted a portion of the countertop and was about to cross through the threshold of what, presumably,
led to the storeroom, when someone appeared in the doorway, blocking her way.

  “Well, well, well. If I knew you were comin’, I woulda tidied up a bit.”

  The woman didn’t seem surprised to see the three of them, but her hazel eyes narrowed as she scrutinized her new roommates. Lilac took the opportunity to study the woman in return.

  She had a pretty face with a deep cleft in her chin. Despite the season, she wore summer slacks and a short-sleeved shirt that stretched tight across her small breasts. Her muskrat brown hair was cropped tight against her neck. Lilac saw scars of varying size and color dotting her muscular arms.

  “The name’s Hunter. Don’t believe I ever seen any of ya before, which means you ain’t from around here.”

  “I’m Opal, and she’s Lilac,” Opal replied, indicating Lilac with a halfhearted wave of her hand. “We came from Fort Faith, but Else here is from Rydah.”

  “Fort Faith? I didn’t think anybody lived there, let alone a couple of handsome fillies like yerselves,” Hunter said.

  Lilac didn’t have the energy for an explanation; and neither, apparently, did Opal.

  “It’s a long story. We’ve been on the road all night, and I fear I might fall over at any moment.”

  Hunter stepped out of the doorway, and made a sweeping motion with her hand. “Well, be my guest, ladies. There’ll be time to chat later on. With those monsters lurkin’ out there, ain’t none of us leavin’ anytime soon.”

  One by one, Opal, Else, and Lilac entered the storeroom, which, Lilac saw, would prove to be a snug dormitory. But she was too exhausted to care. She wasted no time in unfolding one of the bedrolls piled in a corner. Opal and Else did the same.

  Hunter watched them from the doorway. “Welcome to Hylan,” she said, an enigmatic smile curling her lips. “The odds are great if you’re lookin’ for a man. ’Specially if you like Knights.”