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

by David Michael Williams

  Colt felt a hand on his shoulder. He tore his eyes away from Dale’s and found Ruford Berwyn standing beside him. In a voice that was meant for only Colt and Dale to hear, Ruford said, “You need to settle this in private. These people have enough instability to contend with.”

  Dale looked like he was about to argue. Instead, he pulled himself together, smoothing the material on his impeccably clean doublet, and gave a sharp nod.

  “We will discuss this at the mayor’s house,” Dale told Colt.

  “No.”

  The single word sent Dale recoiling. Ruford’s eyebrows rose.

  “No,” Colt repeated. “There is nothing to discuss, Sergeant. You are no longer in charge here. I am.”

  Dale trembled, and Colt thought the Knight would surely draw steel. Colt didn’t want to fight the man, but he would if he had to. Dale would be put in his place one way or another, and thanks to Chrysaal-rûn, Colt knew he would come out on top in a trial by combat.

  Ruford Berwyn placed a restraining hand on Dale’s shoulder. Colt locked eyes with the Captain of the Guard, whose expression was that of concern and perhaps wariness. Before any more words could pass between them, they were interrupted by a question that rose above the clamor of the crowd.

  “And what’ll you do, Commander?”

  Trusting that Dale was not, at present, a concern, Colt turned around. When his gaze landed on a rotund fellow whose arms, crossed though they were, were the thickness of fallen timber, Colt knew that he had found the owner of the voice.

  A surge of uncertainty coursed through him. All of his injuries seemed to complain at once, and he wished he had the vuudu staff to lean on. But he had come too far to start doubting himself again.

  When Colt spoke, he was talking to himself as much as to the man in the crowd.

  “I too have been to the goblin war camp. I was one of two prisoners the goblin general kept alive. Through their foul magic, they learned everything about the island’s defenses. They know our tactics.”

  “And where would you have us run, Sir Knight?” the same man asked.

  A second man, who was leaner and taller than the first, nudged the speaker in the side and said, “Quiet, Bly. Let him talk.”

  “I would have us run toward the goblins,” Colt stated.

  Those eight words were enough to produce a new wave of shouts. From on the ground beneath the dais, Sir Dylan Torc looked up at him and smiled.

  Passage VII

  Lilac had intended to go back to the medical tent to sit with Othello some more before retiring for the night. When Hunter insisted she join her for a drink, Lilac could have refused. Yet she had acquiesced after the slightest bit of arm twisting.

  Truth to tell, a stiff drink sounded too good to pass up just then.

  After making a quick stop by the medical tent—only to find Othello unconscious—Lilac left the forester in the doctor’s care. She supposed Opal would return before long…

  Lilac followed Hunter into the flock of tents. They soon came upon an open-air pavilion that was so full of people, she couldn’t immediately make out what was inside. Hunter forged a path through the crowd, paying no mind to whom she jostled. As they got farther into the tent, Lilac saw a makeshift bar that had been erected using a long plank and piled-up crates.

  Hunter called the barkeep by name, demanding two mugs of lager “right quick.” Lilac guessed lager was the only thing on tap, which was all right with her. She gulped down the cool, foamy liquid, relishing the chill that spread down her throat. Even in Superius, Hylan was renowned for its flavorful beer.

  Lilac, who hadn’t had any alcohol since leaving Continae, the drink tasted downright heavenly.

  She took several big swallows from the stein. By the time the cup was half-empty, she was already feeling lightheaded. This surprised her until she remembered how many hours it had been since she ate. Not that she was complaining; already the lager was making her feel more relaxed—in spite of recent events.

  Lilac had been as surprised as anyone when Colt announced his intention to lead an army against the goblins. She didn’t know where she fit into the young commander’s plans, but she supposed she would join him and all of the others—so many others!—who had volunteered for the crusade.

  She was, after all, still his prisoner.

  One thing Lilac did know was Colt would not likely allow her to return to Fort Valor on her own. And as much as she wanted to get back to the other Renegades, she knew it was far too dangerous a journey to undertake alone. And with so few capable fighters to be had in Hylan, there was no one to spare to accompany her.

  Besides, Colt needed every warrior he could find. The fact that she possessed an enchanted sword only made her more valuable to the cause.

  Lilac took a long pull of her beer.

  She wasn’t a coward, but neither was she eager to face the goblins again. She had seen the size of their army with her own eyes, had witnessed their battle-hungry ferocity firsthand, and had survived all encounters with the goblins only by the skin of her teeth.

  Logic told her facing the goblin hoard head on would mean certain death for her and everyone else in Colt’s army.

  Lilac wiped the foam from her mouth with her shirtsleeve. She had left Fort Valor knowing it could well mean her death. She had joined Colt’s cause willingly, and she would continue to follow him willingly. She didn’t want to die, but she wouldn’t back down.

  Colt wasn’t the only one who had lost a loved-one to the goblins. Were it not for the monsters, both her brother and Chester Ragellan would still be alive…

  “Easy, girl,” Hunter laughed, collecting Lilac’s empty glass. “The night’s still young.”

  Lilac chuckled in spite of herself. “I suppose you’re right.”

  Hunter tried to signal the busy barkeep, but the man had his hands full in more ways than one. When he walked away to deliver a fistful of mugs to other patrons, Hunter leaned over the bar and helped herself, refilling Lilac’s mug and topping off her own.

  The rustic woman had been chatting with an older one she hadn’t bothered to introduce. Lilac might have thought Hunter rude for the neglect, but she didn’t say anything. Probably Hunter had brought her there so she wouldn’t have to drink alone. Enjoying a pleasant buzzing in her brain, Lilac contented herself with watching the people around her.

  A few minutes later, she spotted someone familiar.

  She hadn’t gotten a good look at Bly Copperton before the meeting had started, but when the man had asked Colt what he planned to do with his authority over the Knights, Hunter had identified him again.

  She had described Bly as a hunter and trapper, and he certainly looked the part. What Bly lacked in height, he made up for in girth. Though he wore his hair cropped quite short, his bare arms and cheeks were covered in thick dark hair.

  If Glen Bismarc was reminiscent of a big brown bear, then Bly was of the black variety.

  Standing beside Bly at the other end of the bar was a man who looked somewhat less wild than the people around him. He was Bly’s opposite in almost every way. Tall and slim, his hair combed neatly forward, Pillip Bezzrik sipped unenthusiastically from his drink. He appeared to be listening to Bly, whose boisterous words could be heard above the ruckus, but Lilac noted how Pillip stole occasional glances in their direction.

  “So,” Lilac said, turning to Hunter, “what happened between you and Pillip anyway?”

  She knew she was being bold, but she didn’t care. The alcohol had loosened her lips, and she figured the worse thing Hunter would do was tell her to shut up. Or maybe hit her.

  Hunter took another swig of her drink. “Men can be such dolts sometimes. I don’t think they know what they really want.” She emptied her mug. “We got into a stupid fight almost a month ago, and all he had to do was apologize. It wasn’t even anything important. He just hurt my feelings, is all. But Pillip can be damn stubborn in his own way.”

  Hunter made to take another gulp, only to find a mug
full of suds. Leaning over the counter to refresh her drink, she added, “Then his sister and niece get killed, and all I want to do is be there for him. I eased up on the cold shoulder…and we have talked some since then, but it’s not like before.

  “I ain’t even mad anymore, but…well…I guess I’m even stubborner than he is.”

  “Having a drink together sounds like a step in the right direction,” Lilac suggested. “But you need a reason for going over there. That way it won’t look like you’re caving. Why don’t you introduce me to Bly? He’s your friend too, right?”

  Hunter considered the plan. “Yeah. I’ve known Bly longer than Pillip. He introduced us, in fact.” She giggled. “Come to think of it, it’s usually Bly who gets us back together after we break up. Guess he’s been preoccupied lately…”

  “Judging by the way Pillip keeps looking over here, I’d say he’s ready to make up.”

  The woman’s face flushed. “Well, let’s get this over with then.”

  Hunter led Lilac over to the two men and introduced her. Bly clamped his hand around Lilac’s own, grunting a hello.

  “Nice to meet you.” Pillip cleared his throat before adding, “How’ve you been, Hunter?”

  “Can’t complain,” she replied. “You?”

  “All right…considering.”

  There was an awkward pause during which Bly drained a large percentage of his mug.

  “So…what were you two talking about just now?” Lilac asked, hoping to spur a new dialogue into being.

  “Actually,” Bly said, “we were talkin’ about that kid commander. Don’t remember his real name. Everybody just calls him Colt, it seems. I was sayin’ how he’s got more guts than that Dale Mullahstyn’ll ever have. Of course, bein’ one of his friends, you probably know all about that, huh?”

  Lilac didn’t really want to talk about Colt, since it would bring her thoughts right back to the inevitable march on the goblin camp. Still, she supposed she should be grateful for the conversation—and the company.

  “I’ve known Colt for a little more than a month,” she said. “He’s a good man…but not your typical Knight in some respects. As for his real name, it’s Saerylton Crystalus.”

  “Well, all I can say is that I’ll be the first the first in line tomorrow night,” Bly said. “And I won’t be alone. You were there. You heard the crowd. Hylan ain’t gonna burn itself down, not as long as her militiamen are still alive.”

  “It’s like Dylan Torc’s been saying all along. Better to die fightin’ than hidin’,” Pillip added, his voice a soft baritone to Bly’s booming bass.

  “Best not to die at all,” Hunter argued.

  “You’re not coming?” Pillip asked.

  “’Course I am! Even if I wasn’t in the militia, I’d go. If ever there was a time for folk to defend themselves and their land, this is it. That Dale Mullahstyn must think us Hylaners are as soft as our cheese.

  “Besides, if I stayed behind, you guys’d lose all respect for me.”

  Pillip gave a wry smile. “Since when do you care what anyone thinks of you, Parth?”

  Hunter’s easy smile vanished instantly. “Don’t call me that, Pillip, least of all in public!”

  “Here we go!” Bly roared, throwing up his hands and sloshing his drink on himself and those around him.

  “Sorry,” Pillip was quick to add. “It slipped, Hunter.”

  Lilac brushed spilled beer off of her arm. “Wait, what did he call you?”

  “Never mind,” Hunter mumbled, burying her face in her stein.

  “It’s her real name,” Bly explained. “She hates it.”

  “You said Hunter was your real name,” Lilac said.

  The bottom of Hunter’s mug tipped higher.

  “That’s her last name,” Bly whispered.

  “Just drop it, Bly,” Pillip said.

  “Fine by me. Less talkin’ and more drinkin’. Won’t be long, and we’ll all be as sober as sober can be.”

  Lilac couldn’t refute the man’s reasoning, so she took another drink…and another…and another after that.

  * * *

  Colt descended the stairs of the dais, cheers still ringing in his ears.

  At best, he had hoped to win over the other Knights of Superius who had hitherto been taking orders from the sanctimonious Dale Mullahstyn. He knew there was a chance that some of Hylan’s militiamen would join his company, but he had not expected the get the overwhelming approval of the crowd.

  It seemed the Hylaners would do anything to prevent their village from being burned to the ground. Then again, he wouldn’t know until tomorrow how many men and women would actually throw in with him.

  Quillan Dag came forward to dismiss the assembly, but most of the crowd had already dissipated. Colt veritably floated among the stragglers. He felt lightheaded. His skin tingled with equal parts apprehension and exhilaration.

  Colt started over to where he had last seen Dylan and almost ran headlong into Opal. He was glad to see her—he always was—but judging by her frown, the feeling was not mutual.

  “We need to talk,” she told him, planting her hands on her hips.

  “Very well.”

  Without another word, Opal turned and headed for a secluded area behind the makeshift barracks. Colt followed, more than a little confused. He wondered if this had something to do with Othello.

  When Opal came to a halt near a gnarled oak, Colt stopped too and waited for the woman to explain herself. He didn’t have to wait long.

  “And just when were you going to tell me about your plan to lead an army against the goblins?”

  Colt couldn’t help but flinch. The angry glare she leveled at him would have stopped a charging minotaur in its tracks. At one time, the look might have sent him into a stammered apology, but while Colt loved Opal more than anything in the world, his sense of purpose was too strong to back down.

  “I wasn’t aware I had to run everything past you,” Colt replied thickly.

  Opal’s green eyes narrowed, but Colt held her gaze. “You don’t, but I thought we were friends, and friends aren’t usually so secretive about decisions that will have such drastic effects on both of their lives.”

  “I am a Knight of Superius,” Colt said with a helpless shrug. “On top of that, I am a high-ranking officer. I’m sorry, Opal, but I couldn’t tell you everything even if I wanted to.”

  “I’m not asking you to share secret information,” Opal was quick to reply. “I’d just like to know what you’re thinking every now and then. I followed you…Cholk and I both followed you to Rydah because we were worried about you. You decided to leave Fort Faith on the spur of the moment, and we wanted to make sure you weren’t getting in over your head.”

  Colt chuckled humorlessly. “Too late for that.”

  The comment did nothing to assuage Opal’s temper. Gods, he thought, she’s even beautiful when she’s angry.

  “Your friendship means so much to me, Opal. As did Cholk’s. Cholk gave his life for me, for the mission—”

  “The mission that you have forsaken!”

  “How so?”

  Opal uncrossed her arms and let them drop down to her side. A good sign, Colt thought.

  “We came here with the intension of spreading word of the goblin invasion to Rydah so that we could coordinate an offensive with the capital,” she said. “We now know more about the invasion than Stannel and everyone else back at the fort, but instead of returning and updating your men, you’re planning on going against the goblins alone.”

  Colt chewed at his lower lip. “I had thought about that, but there’s simply no time to go back to the fort. The goblins could even now be on their way to Hylan. At least Stannel and Petton and the rest are safe behind stone walls.”

  “Safe?” Opal scoffed. “Like the Knights from the original Fort Valor?”

  “What would you have me do?” Colt demanded. “I can’t be in two places at once. I’m trying to do the honorable thing here.”

>   “Oh,” muttered Opal, “and here I thought you were going after revenge at the expense of more lives, including your own.”

  Colt tasted the bile rising in his throat. “You can stay behind if you like,” he told her quietly. “That way you won’t have to leave Othello’s side.”

  Now it was Opal’s turn to look struck. Her lips moved in a silent rebuttal but then pressed together firmly. Colt ached to know what it was the woman couldn’t say—though he knew the answer might destroy him. Then again, could knowing be any worse than not knowing?

  “What is it between you two, anyway? I thought you hated the Renegades.”

  Opal seemed to shrink before his very eyes. He couldn’t remember a time when he had ever seen her speechless, and the unusual display seemed only to confirm his worst fears.

  “Do you love him?” he asked, his voice almost failing him.

  The question was like a splash of cold water against Opal’s face. “What in the hells kind of a question is that to ask?”

  “You said yourself that friends don’t keep secrets…”

  Opal sucked in her lips, then sighed. “I really don’t know how to answer your questions, Colt. There is something about Othello…it’s like he’s…familiar.”

  Colt didn’t follow at first. Then he remembered Opal’s amnesia. She had no memories of her childhood and had gone on a quest to find out who she was. After a year of fruitless searching, she had given up.

  Opal had covered much of Continae in that time, but she was no closer to knowing her true identity now than she had been at the start. That Othello seemed familiar was no small thing.

  “Do you think you knew him…from…from before?” Colt asked.

  Opal’s eyes explored the contours of an overarching branch. “I don’t know, Colt. It’s like when you’re trying to think of a word or a name. It’s at the tip of your tongue, but you just can’t say it.”

  “Have you asked him about it?”

  Opal shook her head. Her long, scarlet locks looked brown in the darkness.

  Colt might have asked her why she hadn’t confronted Othello, but he was already feeling as though he had pressed her too far. He hated seeing her so vulnerable.