He knew he ought to be overjoyed by the miraculous return of Othello Balsa. He had had enough of a burden to carry without the guilt of the forester’s death compounding it. Of course, the Renegade might die anyway. He was in pretty bad shape…
Colt hated himself for the small part of him that hoped Othello would die.
He imagined Opal combing her fingers through the forester’s hair, brushing the tangled bangs from his eyes. Colt had no claim on Opal as a lover, but even their friendship seemed somehow threatened by Othello’s arrival. Not for the first time, Colt wondered what had transpired between the two archers during his absence.
He had hoped to speak with Opal prior to the village assembly planned for that night, but Othello had unwittingly spoiled that. There was nothing stopping him from going to her now, he supposed—nothing except hurt feelings and suspicions.
Maybe it’s for the better, he thought. She’d be safer with Othello than with me.
Tears burned at the corner of his eyes, but he forced them back. He had more important things to worry about than romance. He had a mission.
Colt started back toward the road but stopped after a few steps to look back at the woodpile. What if someone found the vuudu staff and stole it while he was away? Perhaps he should bring it with him to the meeting. Though he was loath to admit it, he felt braver, stronger when holding the staff, as though it were a trophy symbolizing his small triumph over the goblins.
And he would certainly need courage in the hours to come.
Eventually, he turned his back on the skull-tipped staff and exited the alleyway. He had nowhere to be until the rally that evening, so he kept on walking. He had no destination, and yet he couldn’t help but notice his steps were taking him in the opposite direction of the infirmary tent and Opal.
Passage VI
Across the road from the colony of tents, at the spot where Hylan’s commercial center came to an abrupt end, a crowd had gathered, forming a semicircle around a wooden dais that looked like it had been there for quite some time. Though the sun had not yet set, the torches flanking the scaffold were ablaze.
Lilac stood alone in a sea of strangers. She had no idea whether the people around her were refugees from Rydah, citizens of Hylan, or members of some other category. With the drone of speculating, anticipating voices in the air, Lilac felt more than a little lost.
How did I end up here? she wondered.
She saw Colt and Opal standing near the front of the crowd. Opal had left the infirmary tent a few minutes before she had. Lilac had not wanted to leave Othello, who had yet to regain consciousness, but neither did she want to miss the assembly.
If nothing else, she might learn what was coming next.
A moment later, she spotted Sir Dylan Torc beside Colt. This didn’t surprise her in the least. Ever since he had met Colt, Dylan had not let the young commander out of his sight for long. She was also beginning to suspect Dylan didn’t have many other friends within the Knighthood.
Lilac thought she saw Mitto and Else somewhere up ahead, but the undulating sea of people made it difficult to be certain. It seemed like everyone had someone to talk to—everyone but her. She hoped the meeting would commence soon and conclude not long thereafter. She found herself wishing that Othello were there beside her, never mind he was always a silent companion.
Lilac jumped when someone clapped her on the back. She spun around to find Hunter regarding her with a friendly smile and wearing the same clothes as the day before.
“Howdy, neighbor,” she said. “Where’ve you been hidin’ all day?”
Lilac had all but forgotten about the woman. Not knowing what else to say, Lilac told her the truth: that she had spent most of the day with a friend who had wandered into Hylan that afternoon and who was fighting for his life in the medical tent.
“I wouldn’t fret overmuch ’bout it. If he’s lasted this long, he’ll mend,” Hunter assured her.
Lilac wasn’t convinced, but she thanked Hunter just the same. She waited, expecting Hunter to say more, but apparently the woman had no other business with her—and was not at all uncomfortable with the lag in conversation.
Lilac pretended to search for someone in the throng.
“Say, there’s Bly Copperton.” Hunter pointed off to the right. “See him? Over there…the heavyset bloke in the cap…the one with the black beard…no? Well, you’ll probably get a better look at him later. He’s sure to have his say before the meeting’s done.”
In a milder voice, she added, “His wife and daughter were killed by the fiends.”
Though Lilac couldn’t see the man Hunter was referring to, she nodded solemnly and asked, “The goblins have come this far south?”
Hunter’s face wrinkled in confusion. “Goblins? Is that what yer callin’ ’em?” She paused. “I s’pose it’s a fitting enough name. Naw, the fiends…the goblins…haven’t showed their ugly faces ’round here yet. Bly and his family’s home was further north, not far from Rydah.”
Lilac’s mind flashed back to the cottage Dylan had commandeered.
Hunter spoke on. “If I’m not mistaken…ah, yep…there he is. That’s Pillip Bezzrik next to him. He’s Bly’s brother-in-law, and he’s just as angry as Bly is about his sister being dead, but he’s a lot quieter ’bout it.”
A few seconds later, Hunter, still staring off into the crowd, added, “Pillip and I’ve been on-again-off-again for some time now….”
Lilac concluded from the fact that Hunter wasn’t with her beau now that they were currently “off.” Which is probably why she felt the need to strike up a conversation with a complete stranger, Lilac reasoned.
“Did you come from Rydah too?” Lilac asked.
Hunter snapped her eyes away from Pillip and looked back at Lilac. “Huh? Oh, no. Do I look like a city girl? No, ma’am, I’ve been livin’ here ’most all my life.
“My old man wanted to be a farmer, you see, only he didn’t make much of a go of it. After he passed on, I gave up on the ol’ family business but stuck around here anyhow. It’s a good place to earn a living if you’re into…”
Hunter gave her a sly smile. “Hey, guess what it is I do.”
“Um…” Lilac stalled, trying to think of a profession that wouldn’t insult the woman.
“I’m a hunter,” she proclaimed. “And a damn good one too. But that’s not why I’m called Hunter. It’s my actual name.”
“I see.”
Hunter glanced back over to where Bly and Pillip were. “My house is a few miles away from here, but I’ve been staying in the village lately. It ain’t safe livin’ by yourself these days. Plus I’m a member of the militia. It’s my duty to protect Hylan in times like these.”
Aside from a knife hanging from her belt, Hunter was unarmed. Lilac wondered how she—or any other hayseed warrior, for that matter—intended to hold back the goblin army.
“Both Bly and Pillip are in the militia too,” Hunter continued. “Bly’s a hunter and trapper like myself. But Pillip, he runs the general store.”
Hunter met Lilac’s eyes once more, and her face flushed a little. “But listen to me go on. Tell me about yerself. That ginger friend of yours said you were from a fort?”
Lilac hardly knew where to begin, but she was saved from a lengthy narrative when a sudden hush swept over the crowd. Both women turned to watch as a balding, middle-aged man with a sizable gut climbed the stairs of the dais.
“That’s Quillan Dag, the mayor,” Hunter whispered.
Lilac listened as the Mayor of Hylan told them all what Dylan and his team—which included Lilac herself—had learned about the invaders. He used the word “goblin” with visible awkwardness.
When the mayor related the estimated number of goblin in the army, the silence that had fallen over the multitude vanished immediately.
“Five thousand of the bastards?” someone cried. “We’re doomed!”
Hunter scoffed. “That can’t be right. I mean, how could so many of them have
snuck onto the island without anyone knowin’ it?”
Else Fontane herself had seen the goblins’ tower-like ships and how their cannons had reduced Rydah and the magnificent Celestial Palace to rubble. The former barkeeper had spoken of the massive flotilla in hushed tones, her eyes reflecting the horror of that night. Lilac didn’t know how the ships had gotten so near without anyone seeing them, but she had her guesses, vuudu being one of them.
“It’s true,” Lilac assured Hunter. “I saw their camp with my own eyes.”
And that’s not even all of them, Lilac thought. Some had surely remained with the fleet. And then there were the goblins Klye and Scout had encountered in Port Town and the ones that had ambushed them outside Pillars…
Hunter shook her head, speechless. Meanwhile, up on the platform, the mayor made several unsuccessful attempts to restore order. Lilac feared that the proceedings would degenerate into pandemonium, perhaps even panicked violence.
Just then two men separated themselves from the crowd and joined Quillan Dag on the stage.
“Who are they?” Lilac had to shout for Hunter to hear her.
“The one who walks like he’s got a sword up his arse is Dale Mullahstyn,” Hunter said. “He speaks for the Knights of Superius. The other one’s Ruford Berwyn. He commands the other warriors from Rydah…pier guards, I guess you’d call ’em.”
Lilac watched as the Knight, Dale, came to stop beside the mayor. Ruford stayed back a few paces. At the sight of the newcomers, the crowd begrudgingly calmed.
Sir Dale Mullahstyn addressed to the crowd in a loud voice. “Thanks to this newest intelligence, we now know exactly what we are up against. The goblins have already destroyed our capital and Fort Valor.”
The Knight paused, sweeping his gaze over the crowd.
“Hylan is a village without walls and without an army to defend it. From the very start, I recommended an evacuation of Hylan…an orderly retreat to either Steppt or Kraken, since both of those cities are more defendable than this village.
“But there were those who thought my plans hasty and ill-conceived. You wanted to wait until we knew more about the army that leveled Rydah in a day. Well, we now know the extent of the enemy’s power, and it is considerable.”
Dale waited again, but this time the break was immediately filled up by noise from the crowd. Some of those gathered grunted their agreement with the Knight, though Lilac could hear the disparaging mutterings of several others.
“Many would sooner die than abandon their homes,” Hunter said to Lilac, glaring up at Dale Mullahstyn all the while.
Ruford strode forward then, eclipsing Dale and Quillan Dag. The Captain of the Guard waited until the people settled down before beginning a speech of his own. He needn’t have bothered though, so booming was his voice.
“I urged Sir Mullahstyn to wait for the reconnaissance reports, hoping we might be able to unite our forces with those of Fort Valor. But that fortress and its defenders are gone.
“If five thousand goblins turn their sights on Hylan, we won’t be able to stop them from razing the settlement. I realize not a one of you wants to leave, but your lives are more precious than anything you’d be leaving behind. Retreating to Steppt or Kraken is our only realistic option.”
The dissenting voices of the crowd grew louder, but Ruford kept going.
“Having said that, I believe simply handing Hylan over to the enemy would be a tactical error.”
The throng quieted some at this statement, and Dale jerked slightly.
“Leaving Hylan for the goblins would be equivalent to putting food in their mouths and roofs over their heads for the winter. Which is why I recommend that before we leave, we put everything to the torch.”
The furor of the crowd reached new heights, and Lilac worried that the agitation and frustration would manifest itself in violence after all. Ruford Berwyn didn’t try to speak over the din. He simply crossed his arms and took a step back beside the mayor.
Dale Mullahstyn raised a hand, which was ignored. The Knight’s mouth began to move, but his words were swallowed up by the outrage and fear of the crowd. After sever minutes, the people finally quieted enough for Lilac to make out a few words.
“…sooner the better…only what you can carry…could be on their way even as we…”
If Dale was at all bothered by the fact nobody was listening to him, he gave no outward sign of it. He continued to talk, until the hissing and shushing from one portion of the crowd forced him into submission.
Lilac couldn’t make out what had caused the silence. Like those around her, she craned her neck, trying to peer over the heads of the people in front of her. She could hear someone talking. The voice was familiar.
“There is another way!” the voice repeated again and again until he had everyone’s attention.
A man stepped out of the crowd. He picked a spot in front of the dais, though he did not ascend it, and turned to face the assembly.
“I know him, but I can’t recall his name,” said Hunter beside her. “That Knight’s no friend of Dale’s, that’s for sure. This should be interesting.”
“What happens when we get to Steppt?” Sir Dylan Torc shouted. “What happens when so many new mouths empty the city’s cupboards with all of winter still ahead? What happens when the goblins shatter the walls…or the very mountains that cradle Steppt…with whatever explosives they have left?
“And what happens when we flee to Kraken, and the goblins follow us there too? What happens when their ships cut off a retreat to sea? What happens when there’s nowhere else to run?”
No one said a word as Dylan’s intense gaze landed on one after another of them. Lilac glanced back up at the dais and saw Dale Mullahstyn staring frostily at his fellow Knight.
“I will tell you what happens,” Dylan said. “After the goblins have chased us from one end of Capricon to the other, we die. With our backs pressed to the wall, we die. Unable to swing our swords for fear of hitting each other, we die. Cornered and overwhelmed, we die.”
“And how is that any different from staying here and dying?” Dale Mullahstyn snapped.
“Indeed!” Dylan replied, turning to face Dale. “We might as well save ourselves the trip! Better to die defending your homes than burning them down for the enemy!”
More than a few shouts from the crowd supported the sentiment.
Dale Mullahstyn rolled his eyes. “The circumstances are dire, but not hopeless. There are reinforcements in Steppt—”
“Not nearly enough,” Dylan argued, which earned him another glare from Dale. “And why wait for the goblins to come to Hylan? I say we’ve done enough waiting as it is!”
Dale let out a sharp laugh that stole everyone’s attention. Standing behind the Knight, Ruford and Quillan Dag exchanged uncomfortable looks.
“Ever the hot-blooded lion, aren’t you Sir Torc? Ready to charge into a pack of hyenas, even if it means your death…”
Even from her distance, Lilac could see Dylan’s face redden.
“I, for one, do not fear death,” Dylan fired back. “And what I am posing is not suicide. The goblins expect us to run. If we strike them without warning—”
“Are you calling me a coward?” His face drained of color, Dale rushed forward to the edge of the stage. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword.
Dylan ignored Dale and was now looking out at the crowd once more. “I have been to the goblins’ camp. I saw a brave man start a fire that made the fiends howl in confusion and rage. We don’t have to be many to be effective. We need only to—”
“You are not in command here, Sir Torc, and I have half a mind to have you arrested for insubordination!” Dale cried. “Even if you would throw your life away for no good reason, I would never allow you to take any other Knights with you…though maybe those thieves you have become so friendly with would join you in your folly.”
The crowd was growing restless again, with individuals calling out cheers or jeers at random interva
ls. At Dale’s mention of Gomez and his boys, Lilac heard a voice that sounded suspiciously like Tryst’s say, “I’ve seen sewer rats with bigger balls than this guy’s. How’d he get to be a Knight anyway?”
As the mob grew louder and louder, Dylan turned his back on the people and began arguing his point face-to-face with Dale. Although she couldn’t hear him, Lilac saw Dale yell back, emphasizing his words with violent hand gestures.
So chaotic had the scene become that Lilac didn’t even see Colt until he had climbed the final steps up onto the dais.
Colt walked past Ruford Berwyn and Quillan Dag—who regarded him with vague curiosity—and came to a stop a few steps behind Dale. He waited until the crowd noticed him and simmered down. Then, he spoke.
“It is true that you outrank Dylan, Sergeant Mullahstyn, but as Commander of Fort Faith, I outrank you. If anyone has the authority to command the Knights here, it is I.”
* * *
Dale Mullahstyn reeled as though physically struck. He spun around and leveled a hateful glare at Colt, who affected a mask of indifference. Colt hoped his expression was a passable impersonation of his father, the heroic Laenghot Crystalus, who had disciplined errant soldiers and delinquent children with the same professional detachment.
At that moment, Colt knew Dale hated him more than anyone else in the world—including Dylan—but Colt buried the swell of emotions that threatened to burst forth. Even if he had never felt like a great leader, it was time to start acting like one.
“You have no jurisdiction here, Sir Crystalus,” Dale hissed. “By your own admission, you abdicated your authority to Stannel Bismarc. He is the Commander of Fort Faith, not you.”
Colt’s face remained impassive. “And tell me, Sir Mullahstyn, when was the last time a mere sergeant was honored with the command of a fortress?”
Dale’s eyes widened and then narrowed dangerously. He sputtered for a few seconds, his rage rendering him speechless.
“I was never demoted,” Colt added. “I still hold the rank of commander.”
Williams, D M - Renegade Chronicles [Collection 1-3] Page 91