Rebels and Fools (The Renegade Chronicles Book 1) (15 page)

“Why
was it so bright in there?” the pirate king asked, blinking his one eye
repeatedly.

“I
must not be seen with any of you,” Elezar said quietly. “May Aladon watch over
you on your journey.”

The
five men watched in silence as Elezar hurried away, never looking back. With
the priest gone, the strange cloudiness in Klye’s mind dissipated. He wondered
if some of the poison from the arrow hadn’t yet left his system. Shaking his
head, Klye decided it was time he regained control of his band.

“We’d
better hurry to the rendezvous,” Klye told the others. “If Leslie’s Renegades
touched off a riot in the Square, the mayor may not allow anyone to leave the
city.”

“What
about Ragellan?” Horcalus asked, grabbing Klye by the arm.

Klye
sighed. “We have to trust that Leslie and her men will take care of him. If we
go to the Square now, we’re as good as dead.”

The
knight did not look convinced.

“If
Ragellan isn’t waiting for us at the rendezvous, we’ll come back for him,
Horcalus. I swear it.”

His
expression morose, Dominic Horcalus released Klye’s arm and sheathed his sword.
“I’ll hold you to that promise, Klye.”

*
         
*
         
*

Crofton
Beryl sat in the dark. His desk was tipped on its side, and papers littered the
floor of his office. Pictures and decorations were strewn about, most of them
broken beyond repair. The mayor had done it himself, venting his frustrations
with the Renegades on his unsuspecting furniture. Now, he sat on the floor,
leaning against a wall, his throbbing head in his hands.

“You
have failed,” said the voice.

Clenching
his teeth against the invisible needles piercing his brain, Crofton replied,
“We lost today, but next time I will be ready. If it’s a war she wants, it’s a
war she’ll get!”

The
voice was silent.

“I
was unable to keep you safe, Aleth, and our daughter has turned much of the
city against me, but the Renegades have not won yet. Leslie—”

“I
don’t care about Leslie!”

Crofton
opened his eyes. The translucent form of his wife floated before him, her
once-beautiful face twisted in rage.

The
sight of her made the mayor moan in sorrow. She had died so young, and it had
all been his fault. He had been unable to keep her safe. Somehow, a foreign
sickness had found its way into her hale body. Maybe one of the ships had
brought it to Port Town. Crofton didn’t know, but he swore that never again
would such things happen in his city without his knowing about it…

He
understood his late wife’s frustration. Leslie had turned her back on them. He
knew she was suffering because of their daughter’s betrayal. It was up to him
to make things right. He would do whatever his wife’s restless spirit told him
to make up for his own negligence.

The
phantom of Aleth Beryl hovered nearer. “Leslie will stay in the city. You can
kill her at your leisure, but what about the rogue knight? You had him in your
clutches, and the other one was surely somewhere in the city. Now both of them
are beyond your grasp.”

“I’ll
find them,” Crofton swore, though he couldn’t imagine why his wife was
concerned with the former Knights of Superius. In response to his unspoken
question, a red-hot sun exploded in his mind, and he cried out, “I promise I’ll
find them for you!”

“See
that you do, Crofton,” intoned the lilting voice of his late wife. “And don’t
even think about killing either of them unless you have to. They will be
returned to Superius, alive for questioning.”

“Yes,
my love,” the mayor gasped. “I will tear the city apart if I have to!”

“There
is no need for that,” she said. “They have already left Port Town. Send
messengers to the surrounding cities.”

As
suddenly as she had appeared, the spirit of Aleth Beryl was gone. Slowly, the
excruciating pain in his skull lessened until he felt only a pulsing ache
behind his eyes. Tears flowed down his cheeks. As much as he feared his wife’s
righteous anger, he hated to see her go. Without her reassuring words, he felt
completely alone.

Crofton
Beryl pulled himself to his feet and observed the wreckage around the room.
Silently, he vowed that he would make Aleth happy again. He would do whatever
she asked him. No matter the cost.

Passage XV

Arthur’s
breath caught in his throat when yet another rabbit hopped past the stoop of the
rundown farmhouse. He forced himself to take deep breaths in order to stop his
body from trembling. His grip on the rusty hatchet remained as tight as a
death-grip.

You’re
being silly, he told himself. It’s only another hare. There’s nothing else out there.

A
creak from somewhere inside the house made him jump. It’s just the house
settling, Arthur thought. Old houses do that.

Earlier,
he had swallowed his fear and investigated the creaky building and almost
fainted at the sight of frayed curtain blowing in the wind, which he had
mistaken for an angry ghost. He decided he would wait on the porch until the
others returned and vowed to ignore every strange sight and sound until then.

As
the uneventful minutes past, he asked himself, “What am I doing? How did I get
mixed up with Renegades? I shouldn’t have run away from Hylan…”

His
thoughts drifted back to his days spent working with his father and brothers on
their farm. Another groan from the abandoned house interrupted the boy’s sad
daydream. He kept his back to the front door, silently daring the imaginary
intruder to grab him from behind.

“It’s
just as well,” he muttered. “I was a criminal before I ever met the Renegades.”

The
sound of a twig snapping in the overgrown orchard surrounding the farmhouse
made Arthur jump again. Dusk was falling, and along with it had come a light
mist. Through the gloom, he saw three human shapes coming toward him.
Nervously, he fingered the handle of the hatchet.

As
the figures came closer, however, Arthur saw that they were not specters.
Leslie Beryl and two men he did not know hurried over to the porch.

“Who
is that?” asked the older of the two men.

“Chester
Ragellan, meet Arthur, the newest member of your band,” Leslie said. “Arthur,
this is Ragellan and Crooker.”

Arthur
looked from knight to pirate, his face scrunched up in confusion. “You rescued
the rogue knight
and
the pirate king?” he asked Leslie.

“No,”
Leslie laughed. “Crooker isn’t the pirate king. He’s a friend of Pistol’s. It’s
a long story. Are Klye, Scout, and the others back yet?”

“N-no.
You three are the first ones.” He felt awkward speaking with the Renegade
Leader, and he could feel his cheeks burning.

But
then more shapes materialized out of the haze. Arthur recognized Scout, who was
immediately followed by Klye, Horcalus, Plake, and a man with an eyepatch.

“Looks
like you just beat us here,” Scout said to Leslie. “I’ll trade you one pirate
king for a rogue knight.”

“Ragellan!”
Horcalus cried and ran to his friend’s side. “Thank the gods you are alive.”

The
reunited knights greeted each other with a firm handshake. “You didn’t miss
much, Dominic,” Ragellan said. “Port Town’s prison wasn’t half as accommodating
as the Citadel Dungeon.”

“Pistol!”

Before
the pirate king could react, Crooker embraced him in a monstrous hug. So
stunned was Pistol to find Crooker with the Renegades that he tentatively
returned the embrace. Then, realizing that some of the others were watching
them, Pistol pushed Crooker away.

“Enough,
a’ready,” Pistol said. “I wasn’t in prison long enough to crave the affection
of men.”

“Everybody
made it back safely?” Klye asked.

“Looks
like…wait, where’s the archer?” Scout asked.

Leslie
brought her hand up to her mouth. “Othello! Gods, I forgot all about him!”

From
out of the shadows by the side of the farmhouse stepped the missing Renegade.
His sudden entrance made both Plake and Arthur, who were standing but a few
feet away, start in fright.

Arthur
stared wide-eyed at the silent-footed forester. Beside him, Plake blushed a
deep red that Arthur imaged rivaled his own.

“How
do you
do
that?” Plake demanded.

Othello’s
lips curved upward slowly, revealing a rare smile. “Magic.”

Arthur
didn’t know whether or not the archer was jesting, but Klye chuckled.

“Good,
we’re all here.” The Renegade Leader looked from left to right, studying each
of his companions in turn. When Klye’s eyes came to rest on him, Arthur quickly
looked at the ground. “We have come together through odd and complicated
circumstances, and as much as I would like spend the evening swapping stories,
we simply don’t have the time.”

Arthur
saw the two Renegade Leaders’ gazes meet for an instant, and he felt as though
he and everyone else were intruding.

“It’s
probably for the best that we travel at night anyway,” Scout said. “Hey, are
the pirates coming with us to Fort Faith?”

Klye
turned to Pistol and Crooker. “You are free to go wherever you wish, as far as
I’m concerned, but you both would be a welcome addition to my band, if you want
to come along.”

Arthur
saw Horcalus’s face sour.

Klye
continued, “But if you would rather stay in Port Town—”

“There’s
nothin’ for us here, except a bounty on our heads,” Pistol said, and Crooker
nodded in agreement. “No hard feelings, Miss Beryl, but I think Crook’ and I’d
be better off puttin’ some distance between us and Port Town.”

“Agreed,”
Leslie said softly. “I apologize—”

“Not
your fault,” Pistol interrupted, and Leslie didn’t press the issue. To Klye,
Pistol added, “I don’t know what you’re plannin’ to do at a fort, but Crook’
and I’ll come along. You know the island better than us.”

“Well,
Scout knows it, anyway,” Klye said. “Welcome to my band, gentlemen.”

Ragellan
stepped forward and bowed before Leslie. “Many thanks for your kindness, milady.
If only there were some way we could repay you and your Renegades.”

“Take
Fort Faith, and we’ll call it even,” she said with a smile.

Klye
cleared his throat. “Ragellan, get everyone ready to move out. Arthur has the
supplies. I’ll be back in a moment. Leslie and I have something to discuss,
Renegade Leader to Renegade Leader.”

“Bye,
Les,” Scout called, waving. “I’ll hurry back as soon as I can.”

“So
long,” Leslie replied, giving the hooded Renegade a quick hug. “Take care.”

“Don’t
hurry on our account,” Plake called suggestively as Klye and Leslie walked into
the trees.

*
         
*
         
*

Harrod
Brass was led to the mayor’s office by a servant whose curt replies and stony
countenance spoke volumes about the atmosphere within the mansion.

The
Captain of the Three Guards was not in the best of moods himself. Overzealous
soldiers and panicking civilians had made the task of regaining order in the
Square impossible, and not a single rebel had been taken alive during the
battle. With a dozen guardsmen dead and twice as many of the city’s citizens
slain—some Renegades, some not—Brass had very little to smile about.

When
Brass reached the door to the mayor’s office, he found it open, revealing a
disastrous scene. Had the mayor not been sitting so calmly behind his desk,
Brass might have drawn his sword.

“Mayor
Beryl, what happened? Was your office attacked?” he asked, taking in all the
damage with quick glances.

“Never
mind my office,” Crofton Beryl told him, keeping his voice low and even. “I
called you here to discuss matters of greater importance.”

As
much as he wished he could avoid delivering the bad news to Crofton Beryl,
neither did Brass wish to linger in the mayor’s presence. “Not a single suspect
was taken alive, Mayor Beryl. Your daught—er…the Renegade Leader escaped—”

“Never
mind my daughter,” Crofton interrupted, his voice rising only slightly at the
last word. “Leslie will be dealt with soon enough. She will beg for death by
the time I am through with her.”

Captain
Brass’s skin prickled. He knew full well that most of Port Town’s citizens
considered him a cruel man and rightfully feared his wrath, but next to the
mayor, Brass felt like a saint. The matter-of-fact tone in which the mayor
spoke of torturing his daughter made him want to flee the room and not stop
running until he reached the nearest tavern.

“I
will need a description of the men who freed the pirate king from his cell,”
the mayor told him in the same unwavering voice. “They were certainly after
Chester Ragellan.”

“Yes,
sir,” Brass said. “I have spoken with the soldiers from the prison, and a few
of the guards claim that one of the rescuers was also seen at the Battle of
Oars and Omens. It could be the other rogue knight.”

Crofton
did not reply.

Brass
cleared his throat. “I have sent patrols of city guards and pier guards out
into the various districts, and our two coastal ships are watching the docks.
The rogue knights will not be able to hide from us.”

“You
needn’t bother,” Crofton said. “The knights have already left Port Town.”

“What?
How do you know that?”

Now
the mayor’s voice lost some of its aloofness. “Never mind how I know. You ask
too many questions, Captain. You should be more concerned with answering
mine
.”

“Yes,
sir.”

“Send
messengers forth tonight to spread the news of the rogue knights’ escape to the
nearby towns. The knights are to be brought to me. I will personally arrange
their transport to Continae.”

“Yes,
sir. The announcement will be heard from Fort Honor to the Port of Balancia,
and as far to the east as a horse may run.”

Apparently
satisfied, the mayor said, “You are dismissed, Captain. I look forward to
hearing your full report in the morning.”

“Yes,
sir.”

Harrod
Brass left the office as quickly as he could. Though he had much work ahead of
him that night, the Captain decided it could wait until after a stiff drink or
two.

*
         
*
         
*

They
had not walked too far into the orchard when Klye stopped. Leslie turned to
find his intense blue eyes staring at her. Her heartbeat quickened, and she
swallowed despite the sudden dryness in her mouth. She was sorry to see him
leave, though she didn’t know how to tell him. Absently, she ran a finger along
the fine silver chain around her neck.

“Why
didn’t you tell me about the secret passage in the prison?” Klye demanded.

Expecting
a kiss, not an inquisition, Leslie couldn’t make sense of his words at first.

“What?
There is no secret passage that I know of.” Her tone was defensive, biting, but
she didn’t care. “What in the gods’ names are you talking about, Klye?”

The
Renegade Leader watched her for a few more seconds, as though he were judging
the veracity of her claim. Then he sighed, and when he finally spoke, his tone
was no longer accusing. In fact, it was void of all emotion.

“Elezar
came to us when we were in the prison, rescuing Pistol. We were trapped, with a
wall of stone on one side and a slew of guards on the other. But then,
suddenly, there was a pathway filled with light, and the priest led us out onto
the street behind the prison.”

Once
Klye was finished explaining, he no longer looked her in the eye, and Leslie
hoped he was feeling guilty for accusing her of imaginary crimes.

“Look,”
she began. “I don’t know how Elezar managed to save you. You’re the man who
doesn’t believe in the gods. I’m sure you’ll think up a rational explanation
for it on the road to Fort Faith.”

Klye
sighed and looked up from the ground. “Les, I’m sorry. I thought you had
withheld information about the passageway because you mistrusted me or because
you wanted us to get caught.”

“And
by jumping to that conclusion, it was
you
who mistrusted
me
.”

They
stood there without speaking then, listening to the chorus of chirping crickets
drifting up from the tall grass among the trees. The look Klye was giving her made
it difficult to stay angry with him. In spite of herself, she took a step
closer to him and smiled mischievously.

Well,
she thought, at least he had apologized.

Klye
opened his mouth—to make more excuses, she suspected—but no words ever made it
past his lips, for Leslie’s lips were there now, making all further points
moot. The kiss lasted less than a minute, far too quick for Leslie’s liking,
but there had been an undeniable feeling of…something…in that kiss. She
wondered if he had felt it too.

They
separated, and she dared not look into his eyes again, lest she do something
stupid like go running off with the foolhardy man on his crazy crusade. Without
another word between them, Leslie turned and walked back toward the city.