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

by David Michael Williams

  Hunter’s grin vanished as she added, “Just don’t get any funny ideas about Pillip. He’s spoken for.”

  Lilac exchanged a puzzled look with Else Fontane. When she glanced back at the doorway, Hunter was gone. From the adjacent room, she heard a candy-sweet voice exclaim, “Sweet dreams, girlies.”

  The sentiment was punctuated by the slamming of the front door.

  “She wasn’t around the last time I was here,” Else said, crawling under her blanket. “She seems like a…colorful person.”

  Opal scoffed. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  Lilac was too tired to put her thoughts into words. Her eyes closed the instant her head hit the makeshift pillow that was more boot than bedroll. Seconds later, all memory of the woman named Hunter was buried beneath the imaginary adventures of her sleeping self.

  Lilac’s sleep was deep and long.

  Passage IV

  Colt had gone to great lengths to escape Fort Faith.

  Stifled by the confines of his command, he had exploited a loophole in the Knighthood’s laws. By changing Fort Faith’s name to Fort Valor and transferring all of his men to the authority to Stannel Bismarc, the commander of the original Fort Valor, Colt had freed himself of his responsibilities, enabling him to take an active role in the fight with the goblins.

  The only reason the maneuver was legal was because no one had ever thought to do it before.

  But in hindsight, Colt hadn’t escaped his responsibilities. He had led the party charged with delivering news of the goblin invasion to Rydah. As the company’s leader, he was responsible for those who had lost their lives on the mission.

  Everyone from the goblin Drekk’t to Sir Dylan still called him “Commander,” even though his fort—Fort Faith— technically no longer existed. And while Gomez, Mitto, and the others were allowed to sleep in Hylan’s provisional barracks, Colt was expected to report to the village’s authority with Dylan.

  Once the two of them exited the inn, Dylan stopped. Not understanding the reason for delay, Colt shot his companion a look that said, “Now what?”

  Dylan cleared his throat. “There are some things I should tell you before we go.”

  Colt waited, all but tapping his foot.

  “There are three factions struggling for control of Hylan.”

  Taking in the meager assembly of buildings that made up Hylan’s center of commerce, Colt might have found Dylan’s words humorous. As it was, Colt was too tired to be good-humored about anything, let alone a lengthy explanation that was bound to complicate his life further.

  “Quillan Dag is the Mayor of Hylan,” Dylan told him. “By law, he is the village’s highest authority and commands Hylan’s militia. But Quillan is no warrior, and so far he has been content to let those more experienced in the ways of battle manage the village’s defenders.”

  As he spoke, Dylan’s eyes fixed on a structure farther down the road. Colt followed his gaze to what looked like a large house. He assumed it was the home of Quillan Dag--and their destination.

  “Sergeant Dale Mullahstyn is the highest-ranking Knight to survive the fall of Rydah,” Dylan continued. “He speaks for the Knights here in Hylan. Ever since our arrival, Dale has been trying to convince the mayor to evacuate everyone from the region.”

  “Evacuate to where?” Colt asked, intrigued in spite of his weariness.

  “Kraken,” Dylan answered. “Or Steppt…anywhere, really. As you’ve surely noticed, Commander, there would be no stopping the goblins if they set their sights on Hylan. The farmsteads are spread out across miles, and even if we managed to gather everyone into the village proper, we have neither walls nor men enough to defend them.”

  Colt nodded. While he hadn’t seen the ruins of Rydah, he had seen the army that made them. Hylan wouldn’t last an hour.

  From the way Dylan had spoken, Colt presumed Dylan agreed with his commanding officer. What the man said next, however, changed Colt’s mind.

  “Dale is a far-removed member of Superian nobility. He was one of a dozen sergeants stationed in Rydah. He has always lorded over his subordinates, and now that he has no one to take orders from, he’s acting like he’s the gods-damned King of Capricon.”

  Dylan’s eyes were narrowed, as though he were glaring at the sergeant through the wall of the mayor’s house. Colt wanted to ask Dylan what he would do in Dale Mullahstyn’s place, but asked a different question instead.

  “You said there were three factions in Hylan. Who is the third?”

  “Ruford Berwyn. He was Rydah’s Captain of the Guard.”

  Colt had all but forgotten Rydah was a port city, but upon hearing “Captain of the Guard,” he was reminded that in a city as large as Rydah, the Knights weren’t the only enforcers of peace and justice.

  Since Superius’s inception four centuries ago, the Knights had protected the realm from wrongdoers in the capacity of governors and soldiers. But as Superius grew in size—territory-wise and population-wise—there were simply too few Knights to oversee so vast an area.

  Hence, local constabularies had been developed. Lord Knights gave up their civic authority to mayors and magistrates. Constables maintained law and order in populous cities as well as in towns too small to warrant a barracks for Knights.

  Today, the Knights of Superius served primarily as the nation’s army, defending coastlines and political borders against foreign invasions.

  The man Dylan had mentioned, Ruford Berwyn, was a Captain of the Guard. Port cities like Rydah presented unique challenges. With so many people coming and going, smugglers and pirates could easily lose themselves in the hustle and bustle. It was the guardsmen’s responsibility to keep the city’s harbor free of crime.

  Then, all at once, Colt understood the crux of Hylan’s dilemma.

  In most instances, the Knighthood and the coastal guards—or pier guards, as they were sometimes called—complemented each other, working together but functioning as separate entities. Neither organization had authority over the other. Thus, neither Dale Mullahstyn nor Ruford Berwyn could be said to outrank the other.

  “If the mayor is content to let the warriors plan Hylan’s defense, then the problem must stem from the fact that Dale and Ruford don’t see eye to eye,” Colt concluded out loud.

  Dylan flashed him a wry smile. “Captain Berwyn argues against making any rash decisions. He didn’t want to abandon the village until we learned more about the goblins’ strategy. He wants to coordinate Hylan’s efforts with those of Fort Valor…”

  Colt knew that Dylan was referring to the original Fort Valor, which had been demolished almost two weeks ago.

  “Even though he is not a Knight of Superius, I personally think Ruford Berwyn is better equipped to lead Hylan’s resistance. But after he learns the fate of Fort Valor, he might concede to Dale.”

  Colt caught and held Dylan’s eyes for a second, but then the other Knight looked back at that same house down the street.

  Dylan must have known that by bringing Colt to Hylan he was upsetting the already precarious structure of power. Colt outranked Sergeant Mullahstyn, and even Ruford Berwyn, a Captain of the Guard, might willingly concede to a commander’s leadership.

  But had Dylan brought Colt to Hylan to cure the government’s paralysis or to further his own agenda?

  “Dale won’t be happy to learn a commander has arrived in Hylan,” Dylan said, his wry smile returning.

  “Then we had better not keep him waiting,” Colt replied softly.

  As he followed Dylan to the home of Quillan Dag, Colt stared at the back of the Knight’s head. He might have asked Dylan why he had worked so hard to get him to come to Hylan. He might have asked what Dylan hoped to accomplish by pitting him against Dale and Ruford.

  If Colt was going to be used like a tool, he wanted to know to what ends.

  But Colt kept silent. He didn’t want to offend the Knight with clumsy accusations; he needed all the allies he could get. Somehow, he thought he could trust Dylan,
who wore his heart on his sleeve.

  Colt had never asked to be a leader of men, but he had seen the goblin army with his own eyes, and he knew what had to be done.

  Unconsciously leaning on the vuudu staff for support, the exhausted commander mentally prepared himself for his encounter with the erstwhile triumvirate.

  * * *

  Hylan’s three leaders were already gathered in a spacious room in the mayor’s home when Colt and Dylan arrived. No one seemed surprised to see them, which left Colt to assume one of the Knights from the cottage or some lookout had brought word of their coming.

  The first thing Colt noticed upon entering was the large head of a buck mounted above an idle fireplace. The decapitated beast’s antlers were so long they nearly touched the ceiling. Other curiosities decorated the walls—including an ancient-looking spear and dead animals of various kinds—but Colt dismissed them all after one glance.

  Instead, he fixed his eyes on the three men who quickly rose to their feet. Although Dylan introduced them one by one, Colt could have guessed who was who.

  A middle-aged man who had been sitting on a padded wooden chair off to one side, approached Colt with surprising alacrity. The man’s belly protruded so far it half hid the brass belt buckle beneath. A bushy brown beard covered the man’s chin and cheeks. His polite smile and the laugh lines framing his jovial eyes remained even after shaking Colt’s hand.

  Colt instantly liked Quillan Dag. He pitied him too. Beneath his friendly manner, the Mayor of Hylan looked anxious and eager for the whole affair to be over with.

  Colt muttered a greeting to the mayor and was immediately confronted by a second man.

  Ruford Berwyn also had a paunch, but the difference between Ruford’s and Quillan’s builds was about twenty-five pounds of solid muscle. Ruford’s thick, brownish-red mustache billowed out from under his nose and curled at each tip. The skin on his face and hands was dark and leathery, undoubtedly the result of spending so much time in the sun by the sea.

  Ruford was bedecked in the red-and-white striped uniform of a guardsman. He wore golden epaulettes and a tall, rounded hat. A curved sword hung from his belt; it was the only visible weapon on Ruford’s person.

  “Good to meet you, Commander.” Ruford’s voice was deep and husky—just as Colt had imagined it would be.

  “The pleasure is mine,” Colt replied.

  Ruford’s handshake was tempered steel, compared to Quillan’s doughy grasp.

  Then Ruford stepped aside, making way for the final officer.

  Dale Mullahstyn was immediately recognizable as a Knight of Superius. He carried himself with a stiffness a scarecrow might envy. No trace of emotion disturbed the sergeant’s statuesque countenance. He looked like every portrait Colt had ever seen of the Knights of yore—serious to the point of stern and seemingly above those he was charged with protecting.

  Dale’s blond hair looked as though it had been trimmed recently. So fair was the Knight’s hair that Colt almost missed the mustache perched above his small mouth. Dale’s dark brown eyes were given prominence by his light hair and skin, and Colt felt those dark orbs bore into him as the two of them exchanged bows.

  Sergeant Mullahstyn hardly deigned to glance at Dylan as he returned to the straight-backed chair he had been sitting in before Colt and Dylan’s arrival. Thanks to Dylan’s earlier comment, Colt couldn’t help but see Dale’s tall-backed chair as throne. He imagined a gilded crown resting atop the “King of Capricon’s” head.

  No one offered Dylan or Colt a seat. Three pairs of eyes looked to them, waiting for some sort of an explanation. It was Dale Mullahstyn who eventually put their questions into words.

  “Sir Dylan, you were sent to Rydah to search for survivors and learn what you could about the enemy. Please…enlighten us.”

  Dylan shot a brief glance at Colt, as though he would have been happy to let Colt have the floor. Colt returned the look calmly. Then Dylan launched into the report of his eleven-day mission.

  The animosity between Dylan and Dale filled the room with nervous energy. Dale interrupted Dylan throughout his story, challenging his subordinate’s decisions, which Dylan, in turn, defended with unrestrained vehemence. Colt noticed Quillan Dag spent most of the meeting staring down at his fidgety hands.

  As Dylan told of how he and his men had found Opal, Lilac, Mitto, and Othello in Rydah, Dale stole probing glances at Colt.

  Colt didn’t flinch beneath the sergeant’s gaze. In fact, he returned the stare, resisting the urge to look away. The son of a nobleman himself, Colt had met more than his fair share of arrogant aristocrats.

  I may be younger than you, Colt thought, but I’m not weaker. I’ve seen things that would make you mess those fancy trousers of yours…

  When Dylan got to the part where he, Gomez, Tryst, and Lucky went off in search of the goblin army, Sergeant Mullahstyn interrupted him with an upraised hand.

  “Let me see if I understand you, Sir Dylan. You left Rydah to go look for the enemy?”

  “Yes, sir. I—”

  “Your orders were to go to Rydah, not to the enemy encampment.”

  “My orders were to learn more about the goblins,” Dylan argued.

  “In the vicinity of Rydah, where you were to be looking for those injured or in hiding,” Dale said.

  “We did look for survivors, but didn’t find any.”

  The sergeant appeared not to hear Dylan’s rebuttal; he started talking before Dylan even finished his sentence. “And you say you went to the enemy encampment in the company of three thieves?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What if they had turned on you?” Dale demanded.

  The question must have taken Dylan aback. He opened his mouth, but no words came forth. Colt didn’t know the details of how Gomez and his “boys” came to be allies with the Knights and guardsmen in Hylan, but he understood the gist of it. Much like how the Renegades and the Knights at Fort Faith had joined forced, the thieves had banded with their former enemies to fight a greater threat.

  “I had no reason to doubt the thieves’ loyalty,” Dylan said at last. “The goblins destroyed the Guild’s home when they destroyed ours.”

  Dale snorted. “When I let that crazy old man tag along with you, I half expected…and half-hoped the rogues would run off. What could have motivated them to seek the invaders’ camp, I wonder? Perhaps they didn’t find enough loot in the capital’s ruins.”

  Dylan did not reply, but Colt could read the Knight’s unspoken words in the violent glare he shot at Sergeant Mullahstyn.

  “You may continue with your report,” Dale told Dylan, settling back in his throne.

  Colt listened as Dylan related how he and the three thieves had helped “Commander Crystalus” and two of his companions escape the goblin war camp.

  “That was days ago. Why didn’t you make for Hylan at once?” Dale asked.

  “One of the commander’s men was unaccounted for. We hoped he would find his way to the cottage, but after two nights, we decided we couldn’t risk our lives any further.”

  “You were foolish to stay as long as you did,” Dale said. “You had a responsibility to bring the information back to us immediately. What if the monsters had found you and killed you before you could report?”

  Dylan said nothing. Colt recalled how Dylan had wanted to leave for Hylan the very next day, but Lilac and Opal had talked him into giving Othello another night. Now the Knight was being remonstrated for his compassion, for compromising.

  Colt’s respect for Dylan swelled.

  “You may continue, Sir Dylan,” Dale Mullahstyn bade.

  “As you can see, Sergeant…gentlemen…I convinced Commander Crystalus to return with us to Hylan, where he could recuperate from his ordeal…though I must admit I had an ulterior motive in bringing him here.

  Colt held his breath.

  “Commander Crystalus knows the enemy better than anyone. With his unique intelligence, we might concoct a plan to—”

>   “What is there to know about our enemy?” Dale interrupted. “They are savage creatures whose only thoughts are for killing.”

  Colt could have argued that point, but he remained silent.

  “I have to admit I am amazed to learn the beasts bother with taking prisoners…unless they were saving you for dessert, Commander.”

  Again, Colt forced himself to hold his tongue. He wasn’t about to tell Dale how Drekk’t had used the vuudu staff to peel information from his mind. Possibly Dale suspected he had spilled his guts under the duress of torture. In truth, the goblins couldn’t have hurt him any more than they had when they stole his will.

  After several seconds of silence, Ruford Berwyn spoke.

  “Five thousand of the creatures…five thousand goblins,” the guardsmen said, using the terminology Colt and Dylan had brought with them to Hylan.

  Quillan Dag echoed the sentiment with a huge sigh and wiped the perspiration from his forehead.

  “It is as I have said all along,” Dale said. “We are impossibly outnumbered without any viable options for defending ourselves here.”

  “How many warriors are there in Hylan?” Colt asked.

  “Now that Sir Dylan and his men have returned, there are forty-eight Knights of Superius,” Dale replied evenly.

  Ruford shot a sidelong glance at Dale Mullahstyn and crossed his arms. “In addition to the Knights, there are twenty-seven guardsmen…myself included…roughly fifty militiamen, and a dozen or so thieves from the Guild.”

  “Less than two hundred against five thousand,” Dale summarized, his lips curling into a humorless smile. “And our allies at Fort Valor are all dead.”

  The sergeant paused for effect. Looking directly at Ruford, he added, “Can there be any argument against evacuating the village now?”

  The Captain of the Guard only frowned.

  “There are other options,” Dylan insisted.

  “We have already heard your ideas, Sir Dylan,” Dale snapped. “Your opinion has been noted and dismissed. We will not waste time with talk of suicide.”