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

by David Michael Williams

“Are you well, Commander?”

  Dylan wore a worried expression, which told Colt a lot about he himself looked.

  I am their leader, Colt reminded himself. I no longer have the luxury of entertaining doubt. The gods alone know what we will find at the end of our march. All I have to worry about is getting them there in one piece.

  Colt patted Dylan on the shoulder, drawing strength from the Knight’s unwavering confidence. While he missed Stannel’s coolheaded reason and limitless faith, he was grateful for having a companion like Dylan Torc, who seemingly would have taken on Upsinous and the rest of the gods of darkness without hesitation.

  Colt looked out at his army and smiled in spite of himself. He had no energy left for a second oration. Whatever zeal his words had inspired last night would have to sustain the troops a while longer. Time was of the essence.

  “All right,” Colt said to Dylan. “Let’s go.”

  If any wondered about the macabre staff their leader handled as casually as a walking stick, they must have dismissed it as just another idiosyncrasy of the man they had come to call Commander Colt.

  PART 2

  Passage I

  The first thing Petton noticed was the Renegade Leader carried himself with a sturdiness and self-assuredness that had been lacking during their last meeting. Petton frowned. If Klye Tristan had regained his full strength, it meant that he would have to keep a closer eye on the rebel.

  Klye, meanwhile, spared Petton only the briefest of glances. In that half-second, an effluvium of emotions passed between them. Along with contempt and unabashed arrogance, Petton saw in Klye’s eyes the look of the victor.

  Petton swallowed a sour taste in his mouth. You haven’t won yet, Renegade, he thought. Make one false move, and Stannel will have no choice but to toss you and the rest of your band of criminals into the dungeon.

  At the commander’s request, Klye took the chair beside Petton’s. Petton eyed the rebel for a moment longer before he too turned his attention to the one who had called for the awkward meeting in the first place.

  Commander Stannel Bismarc shuffled a few sheets of parchment to one side of the desk and settled his gaze on the Renegade Leader. Stannel looked as comfortable in the presence of the Renegade Leader as he did with any of the Knights at the fort.

  “Thank you for coming,” Stannel said to Klye. “Your condition seems much improved since last you were here.”

  Klye shrugged. “You brought one hell of a healer with you. If not for Sister Aric, I’d probably still be spending my days in the infirmary.”

  Petton bristled at the Renegade’s harsh language, and he searched Stannel for signs of displeasure. Sister Aric was, after all, one of Stannel’s dearest friends. But if the commander was at all offended, he didn’t show it.

  Before either Knight could respond, Klye added, “The last time I was in this office, it was because one of my Renegades had disappeared. But since I was just with my men…those that are still here, at least…I’m guessing this is about something else.”

  Petton’s heart beat faster beneath his breastplate. He wanted nothing more than to smash his fist into the insolent rebel’s face. Klye’s disrespect for Stannel might have been understandable if Stannel had somehow mistreated Klye and his men. But in reality, the Renegades had lived more like guests than prisoners since their capture nearly a month ago…except for the pirates.

  “You and Dominic Horcalus were of great help in recovering those who had gone missing,” Stannel said at last. “And before that, Commander Crystalus had asked you to make recommendations for his company.”

  Petton wanted to point out that there was no way of knowing whether the two Renegades had proved a help or a hindrance to Saerylton Crystalus’s party. For all they knew, Lilac and Othello had fled the first chance they got. Or worse.

  He saw Klye’s lip curl into a lopsided smile. “Lilac and Othello were chosen by default. You and Colt didn’t trust anyone else to go.”

  “Be that as it may,” Stannel replied evenly, “your thoughts on the matter were valuable.”

  “But not so valuable when it comes to Pistol and Crooker,” was Klye’s flippant answer. “Unless you called me here to say you’re letting the pirates out of the dungeon?”

  Petton seethed and wondered what it would take for Stannel Bismarc to lose his temper.

  “I do not wish to discuss any of your Renegades, in fact,” Stannel continued, evoking a raised eyebrow from Klye. “Would you be good enough to tell the lieutenant and I a little about how you came to know Noel?”

  For the briefest of moments, arrogant Klye Tristan lost his composure. He opened his mouth, only to close it again an instant later. Petton beamed inwardly, taking satisfaction in the fact he was responsible for Klye’s discomfiture. Stannel had either not known that Klye and Noel were acquaintances prior to their separate arrivals at the fort.

  Ever a skeptic of coincidences, Petton had never forgotten that detail.

  Klye cleared his throat. “Are you asking me whether or not you can trust Noel? Because if you are, I’ll tell you what I’d tell anyone else. When you deal with a midge, you do so at your own risk.”

  “That is not what the commander asked, Renegade,” Petton said, earning a swift glare from Klye.

  Ignoring Knight and rebel alike, Stannel said, “But you have ‘dealt’ with this midge before. Noel thinks of you as a friend, does he not?”

  Klye’s crooked grin returned. “I suppose so.”

  “And do you consider him a friend as well?”

  The Renegade Leader crossed his arms. “I suppose that would depend on your definition of ‘friend.’ Noel and I have been allies on two different occasions, but if he were to depart from my life as suddenly as he recently reentered it, well, I wouldn’t be surprised…or saddened.”

  “You have trusted Noel with your life.”

  Petton didn’t know whether Stannel had intended that as a question, and neither, apparently, did Klye, who was staring hard at Stannel, waiting for him to go on.

  “Noel was responsible for helping you breech this fortress,” Stannel said. “You put your life and the lives of your men in his hands. That implies faith in the midge and his magic.”

  “He knew the prince was evil, though none of the Knights would believe him,” Klye explained blandly. “He thought he was doing the right thing by letting us in. Anyway, I think he likes Colt better than me. I’m surprised he didn’t go east with him.”

  “Commander Crystalus had enough to worry about without having a midge underfoot,” Petton stated.

  “With all due respect, Stannel,” Klye said, “maybe if you told me what this was all about, I could tell you what you want to know about Noel.”

  Stannel studied Klye for a moment—a scrutinizing look that unnerved Petton whenever it landed on him—before saying, “The Kings of Continae need to know the realm is in danger. Even if our forces in Capricon cannot repel the goblins, we might keep their armies occupied while the Continent United rallies for war.

  “I have written a letter to King Edward, informing him of the goblins’ intent and accomplishments. I would like Noel to deliver the missive.”

  Petton had heard a similar speech not long before Klye’s arrival, and he had been no less surprised than Klye appeared to be now. The Renegade Leader’s expression turned thoughtful as he scratched his arm absently. Petton had no way of knowing what Klye was thinking, but he was certain it wasn’t anything good.

  For all of his prejudice against the Renegades, Petton trusted Noel even less. Like most Knights, Gaelor Petton had no use for wizards. In addition to being a spell-caster, Noel was known for switching sides at the drop of a hat.

  Noel had the same freedom at the fort that Klye and his Renegades enjoyed—against Petton’s advice. This made the lieutenant’s job far more difficult since it was nearly impossible to keep tabs on the midge. For all they knew, Noel could, at that moment, be hiding in a corner of the office, invisible.

  A
s former Commander of Fort Faith, Saerylton Crystalus had been somewhat unconventional in his methods, but that was mainly because he had been a novice in the ways of leadership. Stannel, however, ought to know better than to let rebels walk the fortress unchecked.

  “Noel is our sole means of communicating with Superius? Gods help us,” Klye muttered.

  “Perhaps they will,” Stannel said with a faint smile. “Tell me, Klye, do you believe he is capable of carrying out the mission?”

  Klye thought for a few seconds and came up with the same answer Petton had given earlier. “Well, if he fails, we’re no worse off than before…except we won’t have Noel’s magic to aid us when the goblins come.”

  Petton had seen the midge wield his spells against the goblins firsthand and couldn’t deny that Noel might prove a useful tool against the invading army. If the midge didn’t throw in with the goblins, of course…

  “It doesn’t look like we have much of a choice, does it?” Klye said.

  We? thought Petton.

  “Do you think he can do it?” Stannel repeated.

  Klye’s half-smirk vanished as he said, “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Noel, it’s that he’s full of surprises. Given the chance, I’d say he’s capable of anything.”

  The ambiguous statement did nothing to banish Petton’s doubts, but he knew the matter was out of his hands. He had the feeling Stannel had made up his mind before summoning the Renegade Leader.

  Klye was dismissed a few minutes later, though not before he made yet another petition for the imprisoned pirates. Petton asked to be excused soon after.

  Outside of Stannel’s office, Petton cast a glance at the closed door. Although he spoke with the commander every morning—going over strategies and contingency plans—Petton knew very little about the man.

  Stannel Bismarc had been the Commander of Fort Valor for almost fifteen years, but not this Fort Valor. The original Fort Valor had stood a day’s hard ride to the east before the goblins destroyed it. Fort Faith had been renamed Fort Valor so that Colt could relinquish his responsibilities to Stannel without having to clear his transfer of power through the proper channels.

  If Fort Faith had kept its true identity, Petton would have been the rightful replacement.

  The lieutenant could admit he was jealous of Stannel and that that was natural reaction to the circumstances. But while Petton was possessed of a competitive nature, he wasn’t a sore loser. Anyway, there were far more important things to think about during in a time of war.

  And yet…

  Rumors were circulating about Stannel, who had personally sought out the missing residents of the fort. Stannel had taken a few of the Renegades along with him, though Petton had argued against it. The rebels had returned from Wizard’s Mountain with tales of a battle between Stannel and an unnatural creature made of stone.

  According to the Renegade who always wore a black hood—Scout, was it?—Stannel had saved the day by shattering one of the monster’s boulder-sized arm with his one-handed mace, forcing the thing to retreat.

  Stannel had never denied the details of the fantastic story, but neither had Petton pressed him on it. Some of the Knights chalked up Stannel’s feat to the magic of the highwayman Ruben, but Petton was almost certain Ruben was a fraud. Where the magic had come from, Petton could not say—if there had been magic in the first place.

  Regardless of what had really happened, the Knights of new Fort Valor were starting to speculate about their new commander. Petton reminded Ezekiel Silvercrown and the other higher-ranking officers that now was not the time for distractions, but as he turned and walked away from the commander’s office, he realized he too had been spending an awful lot of time thinking about Stannel.

  As though he didn’t have enough people to keep an eye on!

  * * *

  Klye made almost no sound as he crossed one corridor after another. He had been searching for Noel for almost two hours, and the chore was beginning to take its toll on his body. He felt as though he were playing hide-and-seek with the midge, only his supposed playmate had no idea that the game was going on.

  He wasn’t trying to be stealthy; it was simply habit.

  Klye was nearing the end of his sweep of the fort’s second story, having started from the bottom and worked his way up, when he reached a certain intersection where the hallway branched into two perpendicular avenues. Klye chose the left path without hesitation.

  As he approached the base of a staircase, he remembered the last time he had been there, when he and his men had followed Opal to the fort’s western wing—and to the false Prince Eliot Borrom. Back then, the tower had served as castle’s war room and Colt’s personal office. Now, thanks to T’slect’s spells, the place was no longer habitable.

  It was probably the most dangerous place inside the fort, which was why Klye was suddenly certain he would find Noel there.

  Upon reaching the top of the stairs, Klye chuckled. At the end of the hall, where a pile of fallen lumber and stony rubble had replaced the door to the war room, sat the midge. Noel had his back to the wreckage, seemingly oblivious to the fact that a minute shift behind him might result in a small-scale avalanche.

  Then again, Klye thought, the little bugger probably had thought of that. Perhaps an unseen wall of magic was holding back the fallen masonry…

  Klye had learned long ago not to underestimate Noel. The midge, as a people, could manipulate magic with intrinsic ease, accomplishing feats that human wizards might spend their entire lives trying to perfect. Thus, in a world where every spell-caster was subject to the scrutiny of the masses, the midge earned disdain even from their human counterparts. He supposed most wizards thought the midge squandered their extraordinary powers, dismissing them as simpletons—albeit dangerous simpletons.

  Once upon a time Klye had thought Noel a simpleton. But while the short spell-caster was possessed of an almost child-like rationale, he had proven time and time again he was no fool. The fact that he was still alive was testament to his shrewdness.

  As he drew nearer, Klye saw Noel was staring down at a book on his lap. The midge’s legs and feet were completely covered by his light blue robe, and the brim of his pointy straw hat hid his face completely. Were those two small hands not in plain sight, gripping the edges of the book, a passerby might have mistaken Noel for a pile of clothes.

  The midge didn’t look up as he approached, which made Klye pause. There were worse things than startling a midge, but at the moment he couldn’t think of any. Now that he was standing directly beside him, he could see Noel’s mouth shaping the words to what Klye assumed was a spell.

  Feeling more foolish by the moment for simply standing there, Klye cleared his throat noisily. Without glancing up, his lips still forming the unheard syllables, Noel held up a hand, indicating Klye should give him a moment.

  He hadn’t stolen up on Noel after all—though he had, once again, underestimated him.

  After a few more seconds, Noel slammed the two halves of his book together in a loud clap. Strange glyphs had been etched across the front cover, which was a dull gray color. Judging by the yellowed pages within, the cover had probably been a bold black at one time.

  There was something in the angular script that seemed malignant to Klye. Sometimes it was easy to forget that friendly, good-natured Noel was a caster of black magic. Not that Klye knew much about the differences between the three types of magic. For all he knew, white and red spell books used the same alphabet.

  “Hiya, Klye,” Noel smiled, not bothering to get up. “What are you doing up here?”

  Klye had half a mind to ask Noel the same thing, but on second thought, he wasn’t in the mood for a lengthy explanation.

  “I was looking for you.”

  “Really?” The midge’s smile broadened. “We haven’t talked in a while. Did you miss me?”

  “Ah…”

  “I was going to visit you, Klye, but I thought I should do some studying first. I
know…I know…most midge don’t use spell books. Some don’t even know how to read! But I’m in a hurry, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with shortcuts. When it comes to transportation rites, one little mistake can land you in a Meridian cannibal’s stewpot…well…that’s just an expression. I don’t think Meridians eat people anymore.”

  Klye opened his mouth, hoping to interject, but Noel was quicker.

  “But I really was going to see you before I left. Oh, did you hear? Stannel has chosen me for a secret mission. Imagine, a midge working for the Knights of Superius! I guess the gods knew what they were doing when they sent me here…not that I ever doubted them. Don’t tell anyone, Klye…” He lowered his voice into a loud whisper. “I’m going to see the King of Superius so I can warn him about the goblins.”

  Klye shook his head in exasperation.

  Noel’s eyes doubled in size. “Um, maybe I shouldn’t have told you…you being a bad guy and all.”

  “I’m not a bad guy!”

  “Yeah, yeah, the Renegades and Knights are on the same side now. I remember. But I can’t take any chances. This is important business!”

  Klye rolled his eyes. “I already knew about your mission. That’s why I was looking for you. I wanted to speak with you before you left.”

  “All right.”

  With the midge staring expectantly up at him, Klye suddenly felt self-conscious. He almost wished Noel would take off on another tangent. “It’s just that…I was hoping you could do me a favor, do the Renegades a favor.”

  Noel’s big blue eyes narrowed, and his smile fell into a frown. “I’m not a rebel anymore, Klye. I’m working for the Knights now…again…”

  Klye wanted to point out that Noel never really was a Renegade. Instead, he said, “Actually, you’d be helping the Knights too.”

  The midge lifted a fair-haired eyebrow and regarded Klye skeptically. No, Klye thought, he’s no simpleton.

  “As you may have heard,” Klye began, “my band ran afoul of some goblins while we were in Port Town. I have reason to believe the goblins are using the city’s sewers as a base. Meanwhile, the Renegades of Port Town and the city guards are fighting each other, much like we were fighting with the Knights of Fort Faith when you got here.”