Rebels and Fools (The Renegade Chronicles Book 1) (24 page)

“I’m
afraid we do not have any accommodations big enough for all ten of you, but we
do have two large, adjacent rooms that are presently unoccupied.” Jalil opened
a door and continued on until he reached a second one, which he also pushed
open. “I will return shortly with my best healers. Please, place your sick
friend on one of the beds.”

Jalil
Shenn disappeared around a corner at the end of the small corridor, leaving
Klye to wonder about the healer’s true intentions. Oh well, he thought
helplessly, it’s not as though we have much of a choice. He told Ragellan and
Plake to take Horcalus into the first room. Lilac joined them without being
asked.

“The
rest of you can wait in here.” He pointed to the second room the healer had
shown him. “If there are any problems, fetch me immediately. Otherwise, do as
the healers say. I don’t want any trouble.”

“We’ll
behave,” Pistol promised, walking past him and then plopping down sideways on
one of the beds. “I’m sure even Plake’s too pooped to burn the place down.”

Klye
left Scout, Othello, Arthur, and the pirates and returned to the first room. It
was large enough to hold four beds with room between them for two people to
walk past each other without bumping shoulders. On the first bed lay Dominic
Horcalus. The knight’s eyes fluttered open when Klye came into the room, but
there was no recognition in them. He said something Klye couldn’t hear before
returning to his uneasy sleep.

Ragellan
stood by Horcalus’s side. Lilac sat on the bed beside the feverish knight’s. Across
the room, Plake lay with his hands behind his head, looking more comfortable
than a cat curled up by the hearth. The remaining empty beds caught his eyes,
but Klye quickly looked away and joined Ragellan.

“I’m
sure the healers will make him as good as new,” Klye assured him.

Ragellan
raised a dark eyebrow. “You have faith in the healers’ powers?”

“I
have no reason to doubt the healers’ skills,” Klye corrected.

Jalil
Shenn returned at that moment, along with four healers. Klye and Ragellan were
ushered into beds of their own while two priestesses began assessing Horcalus’s
condition. Lilac, unscathed as she was, took up position by the door.

When
Jalil took Klye’s right wrist and began counting to himself, the Renegade
Leader slowly pulled his arm back and told the healer, “I haven’t suffered any
serious injuries. With a few exceptions, my men mostly just need food and a
safe place to rest.”

“Which
you will have,” Jalil replied. “My best cooks are already preparing a meal for
you, and you have my solemn oath to Mystel herself that you may rest here
without worry of persecution.”

“Thank
you, Mister Shenn, but—”

“Please
call me Jalil or Brother Shenn, if you prefer.”

“We
don’t have anything to give you in return for your generosity.”

“Doing
the goddess’s work is reward in itself.” Little creases appeared by his eyes as
he favored Klye with another smile.

Klye’s
gaze followed Jalil as he stepped over to where the healers were rolling
Horcalus onto his stomach. Brother Shenn was much younger than Elezar. Despite
the patches of white hair above the healer’s ears, there was something in
Jalil’s eyes that made him appear youthful. But by the way the other healers
unquestioningly followed his directions, it was obvious Jalil Shenn was in
charge at the temple.

As
the healers began examining the Renegades’ wounds, they softly whispered
prayers to their goddess. Sometimes Klye could understand what they
said—mostly, they thanked Mystel for her benevolent intervention and her
kindness—but some of them seemed to chant in a different language, words that
sounded so hauntingly familiar Klye thought he might understand their meaning
if he only listened closer.

Aside
from their prayers, the priests and priestesses used poultices and salves of
varying shapes, colors, and smells. It was in these natural curatives that Klye
put his trust. If these people were more comfortable treating their patients
while singing to an imaginary deity, so be it.

Klye
had seen magic before, including incantations that mended flesh and hastened the
healing process, but he did not conclude, as did many, that these uncanny
abilities were the gift of invisible giants.

When
Jalil Shenn returned to his bedside, Klye told him flatly, “We are Renegades.”

“I
know. Or, at least, I suspected as much.”

“And
you let us in anyway?”

“We
servants of Mystel lack the authority to choose who lives and who dies. We help
all of the gods’ children when they need it.” When Klye continued to regard him
skeptically, Jalil laughed and said, “Is it so hard for you to fathom that a
man can take pleasure in helping others?”

Before
Klye could defend himself or apologize, Jalil Shenn told him the food would be
ready soon and left.

With
a sigh, Klye leaned back on the bed and tried not to fall asleep.

Passage IX

When
Lily was nowhere to be found the next morning, everyone grew suspicious.

Regardless
of the mysterious woman’s disappearance, Sir Selwyn McRae and his troupe
departed from the fort at first light. The subcommander and his twenty Knights
rode at a restrained pace, sending forth scouts in search for traps. While Sir
Vincent Magmund had suggested that Lily might have gotten lost in the capacious
fortress, McRae was convinced she had been a Renegade agent.

He
fully expected to encounter an ambush at any moment.

It
took the entire morning to traverse the road that blazed a path through the
tall trees, connecting Fort Milo and the Temple of Mystel. McRae could sense
his men’s frustration, not to mention the horses’ anxiousness to stretch their
legs in a full gallop.

When
they reached the temple without incident, the subcommander remained cautious,
dispatching scouts to search the woods for Renegades. He was eager for a
confrontation and hoped a band of rebels would burst forth from their cover at
any moment.

The
scouting party returned minutes later, however, and reported no one was
sneaking about. One of the Knights, however, had found evidence that a small
group had recently used a dirt trail that ended at the temple’s glade. The
trampled grass indicated those same people had then climbed the hill and
approached the healers’ abode.

McRae
knew the Renegades were already inside the Temple, and he cursed Lily for
tricking him into thinking she had been trying to trick him.

After
ordering the bulk of his mounted men to remain behind on the road, McRae
motioned for two men—Sir Duerot and another Knight whose name McRae could not
recall—to follow him. The three of them dismounted and hastened up the hill to
the temple. Upon reaching the door, McRae pounded a heavy fist upon the wooden
portal.

The
door opened almost immediately, and McRae found himself face to face with a
young man in a light blue robe.

“Good
day, Sir Knight,” he said, stepping out onto the small stoop and positioning
himself squarely in front of McRae and his small entourage. “Do you seek the
gift of the Healing Goddess?”

Selwyn
McRae had never been to Mystel’s Temple before. Fort Miloásterôn had its own
surgeons. He had heard accounts of miraculous recoveries at the hands of the
healers but was inclined to dismiss them as exaggerations.

“We
do not need any healing, thank you. What we seek is information.”

The
youth said nothing, patiently waiting for the Knight to continue.

“I
have reason to believe there are Renegades, including two rogue Knights of Superius,
in the vicinity. My scouts have discovered signs they may have come through
this way. Tell me, young man, have you seen hide or hair of these outlaws?”

The
boy gave a slight smile as he said, “The band of which you speak arrived this
morning.”

“The
Renegades came to the temple?”

“Yes,
sir, and they are still within.”

McRae
coughed and did his best to peer past the young healer. “These men are
dangerous. I recommend you step aside and allow us to take them into our
custody.”

But
the boy did not budge. “If you wish to enter the temple, you must relinquish
your weapons and armor at the door. No tools of war are allowed inside.”

McRae
glared at the healer, who was too small a man to bar him from victory. “Now
look here, this is
war
. The Renegades have been stirring up trouble all
over this island for more than a year now. Send out the rebels, or we will be
forced to come in after them.”

“I’m
sorry, truly,” the boy said, his face infuriatingly calm, “but we cannot ask
the Renegades to leave. They sought our help, and the Healing Goddess forbids
us from refusing aid to any sojourner.”

Selwyn
McRae took a step closer. He loomed a full foot taller than the young man. “Let
me see if I understand you clearly. You are harboring criminals with no
intention of turning them over to the proper authorities?”

“Is
there a problem here, Brother?”

The
young healer stepped aside and retreated a little into the temple while a
second healer took his place. The newcomer’s robe was the same color as the
lad’s had been, except for some strips of white that broke up the monotony of
blue. A frosting of white hair lay about the man’s temples, starkly contrasting
the rest of his hair, which was as black as boiling oil.

McRae
noted the priest’s slender frame and skinny arms. Even a fresh squire could pin
this man in seconds flat, thought the subcommander.

“There
is no problem,” McRae told the older priest, “so long as you healers comply
with the law. By order of King Edward Borrom III himself, I demand that you
stand aside and allow us to arrest the rogue knights and their company.”

“We
respect the laws of Superius, Continae, and the Alliance of Nations,” the
priest replied pleasantly. “However, this temple was erected here on the
condition we healers be allowed to obey the mandates of our faith. That is all
we ask in return for the services we provide the citizens of Capricon…services
we have provided for nearly two hundred years.”

Frowning,
McRae said, “I will speak with whoever is in charge here.”

“You
already are, Sir Knight. I am Jalil Shenn, the master of the temple. And you
are?”

“Subcommander
Selwyn McRae of Fort Miloásterôn. I have direct orders from Commander Calhoun
to do whatever is necessary to bring the Renegades to justice. We have ridden
all morning in search of these vile men, only to find that the clerics of
Mystel, our supposed allies, have taken them in…and now refuse to let us do our
job!”

“If
you leave your weapons at the door, you three may enter and speak peaceably
with the Renegades. Perhaps you can come to an accord—”

“You
smug son of a—” McRae broke off his curse, reminding himself that he was, after
all, addressing a servant of the gods. Without turning around, he said, “Sir
Duerot, I want you to ride to Fort Miloásterôn at full speed and inform
Commander Calhoun of our impasse. In the meantime, we will wait for you in
position at the end of the road…in full view of the Temple.”

Jalil
Shenn did not appear the least bit uncomfortable with a host of Knights camping
on his doorstep. Stewing inside, McRae turned his back on the priest and
marched back to his men. He felt his face burning with righteous indignation
and said a prayer to Pintor the Warriorlord.

If
his patron god had any pity for victims of politics, he would send the
Renegades out now and end this stalemate posthaste.

*
         
*
         
*

Klye
awoke to someone gently shaking him. He sat up suddenly, not fully realizing
where he was until he glanced around the room. Plake, Ragellan, and Lilac were
still sleeping, the woman half-sitting, half-leaning against the side of Horcalus’s
bed. One healer still hovered over the unconscious knight.

Klye
had no idea how long he had slept. He remembered eating the hardy stew and soft
bread Jalil Shenn brought them. His body had surrendered to sleep soon after.

It
was Othello who had roused him.

“You’d
better take a look out the window.”

Klye
leaped out of bed and was surprised to find no strain in his muscles. He had
twisted his ankle during the fight with the goblins, but there was no hint of
that injury now.

As
Othello went to wake Ragellan, Klye hurried over to the large round window at
the opposite end of the room. What he saw outside made him feel ill in spite of
the healers’ efforts. At the bottom of the hill, a company of Knights tended to
their warhorses and talked among themselves. He counted fifteen warriors but
guessed more were strategically positioned around the temple.

“What’s
going on?” Plake asked, joining Klye by the window.

“Yes,
what
is
going on?” Klye reiterated when he saw Jalil Shenn enter the
room.

The
healer sighed as he sat down on the bed nearest the window. “This doesn’t look
good, Klye. The Knights have never liked the fact that we assist individuals on
both sides of the law, but they have always respected our traditions.”

“Will
they attack the temple?” Ragellan asked.

“Goddess
willing, they will not,” Jalil replied. “They are awaiting new orders from Fort
Miloásterôn. But they are led by Selwyn McRae, who seems to have a short
temper. He is not at all pleased with the delay and has told me in no uncertain
terms that he intends to apprehend you no matter what the cost.”

“So
what do we do?” Plake asked, looking at Klye eagerly.

Glancing
once more at the cavalcade outside, Klye entertained no hope that his band
could defeat the Knights in open battle. Their only option was to run, but they
were effectively trapped inside the temple.

“How
long before Horcalus is recovered enough to walk?” Klye asked Jalil Shenn.

The
healer shook his head. “We have only just rid his body of the impurities. In
order for him to heal properly, he needs more rest.”

“There’s
no time. More Knights could be on the way as we speak. We’ll have to wake him,”
Klye said.

“You
cannot. We have given him a drug that will keep him sleeping well until
tomorrow.”

Klye
bit back his next comment. The healers are only trying to help, he reminded
himself. If not for them, the Knights would have us already.

“We
can only wait and hope Commander Calhoun, a reasonable man by all accounts,
does what is right,” Jalil continued. “Until then, I suggest you all make
yourselves as comfortable as possible. You might be here a while.”

With
that, the healer turned on his heels and left the room. Idly, Klye wondered if
the healers had any sort of defenses prepared in the event of a siege, but
knowing the clerics’ pacifist tendencies, he doubted it.

“I’d
feel a lot more comfortable if we could have our weapons back,” Klye muttered
once Jalil was gone.

“Agreed,”
said Lilac.

Klye’s
thoughts went to Lilac’s broadsword, which had cleaved a goblin in half with a
single swing. He remembered her fighting style, thinking it quite polished for
someone new to fighting. Who had Lilac been before joining the Renegades? He
had more questions than answers when it came to the woman. He didn’t even know
her surname.

If
we have no choice but to wait, I may as well use the time to my advantage, Klye
thought.

“Ragellan,
keep an eye on the Knights and let me know if they show any signs of
attacking.” To Lilac, Klye said, “You and I need to speak.”

The
woman spared an unreadable look at Ragellan before saying, “All right.”

Klye
walked a short way down the hall—far enough away from the adjacent rooms to
assure privacy—and waited for Lilac to join him.

In
the few seconds it took her to reach him, Klye reviewed everything he knew
about the woman. Allegedly, she was from Superius. Lilac had known about their
mission to Fort Faith, claiming she had heard it from the Renegades of Port
Alexis. Her story had sounded good at the time—when he, she, and Othello had
been fleeing Pillars for their lives—but now Klye saw a hole in her story.

If
Lilac really were from Superius, how could she have known about Klye’s plans
before
reaching Port Alexis in West Cape? Why had she gone to Port Alexis in the first
place? More importantly, why had she decided to come all the way to Capricon to
join his band?

“I
have a few things I need to ask you, Lilac.”

“Like
what?” She spoke in an unconcerned tone that Klye found less than convincing.

“First
of all, what is your full name?”

“Why
do you ask?”

“Because
I don’t think you are being entirely honest with me,” Klye replied. “I want to
know why you are here.”

“And
you think my last name will give you a clue as to my secret agenda? Very well, my
full name is Lilac Zephyr. Like you, my family is named after a goddess.”

It
was true that Tristan was a derivative of Tristana, the goddess of love—as most
people called her—but Klye knew next to nothing about Zephyr. Or the woman who
shared her name.

“Why
are you here, Lilac?”

She
glanced behind her and took a deep breath before answering. “I am here for
Ragellan and Horcalus.”

Before
Klye could decipher the meaning of her words, Othello appeared in the hallway.
At the same time, the Renegade Leader heard a great clamor throughout the
temple, as though someone were trying to pound down the door.

“The
Knights have surrounded the temple,” Othello told them.