Rebels and Fools (The Renegade Chronicles Book 1) (32 page)

“Rumor
has it the midge’re the most powerful spell-casters in the world. They can launch
a fireball quicker than you can tie yer shoes.”

Arthur
looked from the pirate to Horcalus, who nodded grimly. “But why would the gods
have given them so much power?”

Before
anyone could answer—not that anyone
had
an answer—Lilac entered the
common room, followed closely by Klye. Plake glared at the Renegade Leader, but
he could not hold his gaze. Klye looked wretched, which made Plake feel
relieved and guilty at the same time.

“You’ve
all heard about the midge sighting?” Klye asked. When no one replied, he
crossed his arms. “I know I look a mess, but we might all end up looking a lot
worse before the night is through. This lone midge probably has nothing to do
with us or Fort Faith, but I want to see what he’s up to for myself.”

“You’re
going to follow him?” Scout asked.

“No,
we’re
going to follow him,” replied the Renegade Leader. “I want
everyone to remain here in the inn until Scout and I return. Horcalus, you’re
in charge while I’m gone.”

Klye
looked around for a moment longer, as though he had more to say, but then made
his way through the group toward the inn’s main exit.

Following
his lead, Scout reached the door first and pulled it open. “Hope you don’t mind
getting wet. It’s beginning to rain.”

After
the door closed behind them, Plake muttered, “By the smell of him, Klye could
use the water.”

Watching
Klye and Scout through the window, Plake decided the Renegade Leader was either
very brave or suicidal. He doubted he’d ever know what Lilac had said to get
Klye out of his room, but he was not sorry she had done it.

Maybe
now they could leave dreary, old Port Stone and get on with their
mission—whatever it was.

*
         
*
         
*

The
midge crossed Fort Faith’s threshold in absolute silence.

All
eyes were fixed on the bedraggled traveler, who couldn’t return their stares
due to the sopping straw hat that had fallen down over his eyes. As the midge
entered the hall, his feet got tangled up in the train of his robe, and he
barely caught himself before falling face-first to the stone floor.

After
that, the midge removed the conical headpiece, revealing a cherubic face with
big, blue eyes, a wide grin, and a mop of short, blond curls. The midge looked
around, glancing at Opal and the Knights and the tall, thick columns that rose
up on either side of the entryway.

As
the midge took in his surroundings, Colt studied him in return, wondering what
business the odd, little man could possibly have with him. The first thing he
noticed was the midge’s blue robe, which was actually a shirt meant for a much
larger person. He couldn’t even see the midge’s hands, which were lost
somewhere inside the enormous sleeves.

Pouches
and vials filled with gods-knew-what dangled from a thick leather belt with the
biggest brass buckle Colt had ever seen. He carried no satchel or traveling
bags—only a walking sick made from a reddish wood and topped with a blue gem
that might have been a sapphire, but was more likely a gewgaw the midge had
picked up at a fair.

“Sorry
if I woke you up,” the midge said to no one person in particular. “I suppose I
could have waited until tomorrow morning, but walking in the rain is only fun
for so long, you know? Can I see Commander Colt now?”

Colt
wondered if the midge had heard one of the sentries refer to him by his
nickname or if he had known it beforehand. Silently, he prayed the former was
true.

“I
am Sir Saerylton Crystalus, the commander of this fort.” Colt took a step
forward and extended his hand in a gesture of welcome.

The
staff clattered to the floor as the midge grabbed onto Colt’s hand with both of
his and shook violently. “Hi! I’m Noel. This is a lovely fort you got here. How
big is it?”

The
question caught him off guard. “Ah, I don’t know off the top of my head,” he
confessed. “I know you want to talk to me about something, Noel, but can it
wait until morning?”

He
didn’t relish the idea of having the midge spend the night, but neither could
he send him back into the storm.

“It
can wait,” Noel replied cheerfully. “I’ll probably be here for a while, so
we’ll have lots of time to talk.”

Zeke
Silvercrown and Chadwich Vesparis exchanged uneasy glances, and he heard Opal
stifle a laugh behind him.

“How
about we talk first thing in the morning?” Colt said. “In the meantime, you’ll
be provided a room with a fireplace so you can dry yourself and your clothing.”

“I
don’t need a fireplace. This is a fire staff, after all.” Noel picked up his
staff and held it up to Colt. “Do you want to see how it works?”

“No!”
Colt answered, perhaps a bit louder than necessary.

“Oh,
that’s right. You Knights don’t like magic, do you? But I’m sure you’ll get
used it. The gods sent me here to help you, and I’m a darn good wizard if I do
say so myself. But we’ll talk more tomorrow, Colt. You do look kind of tired.
Which room is mine?”

Colt
lingered in the front hall long after Sir Silvercrown and another Knight led
Noel away. The night was more than half over, and Colt doubted he would find
sleep now.

“Looks
like you’re going to have a rather interesting day tomorrow,” Opal teased.

Then
she walked away, leaving the young commander alone with his thoughts about Fort
Faith’s mysterious guest.

Passage III

It
was closer to sunrise than sunset by the time they returned to Port Stone.

Klye
had been content to let Scout maintain a one-sided conversation on the trek back
from Fort Faith, providing noncommittal responses when required. Scout didn’t
seem to mind Klye’s reticence.

Having
pushed his self-pity aside, Klye was focused on a single purpose—extricating
the Knights from Fort Faith. But he found it hard to concentrate. Something
lingered in the back of his mind. It had to do with the midge, of that he was
certain, but he couldn’t figure out why the midge’s presence bothered him so
much.

If
anything, a midge inside Fort Faith would keep the Knights distracted…

The
rain had stopped an hour ago, and thanks to the bone-chilling gusts that
barreled down the slopes of the Rocky Crags, the two men were almost dry by the
time they reached their temporary home.

From
the outside, the inn betrayed no sign of its outlaw inhabitants; it looked as
dark and still as the barren buildings around it. They were greeted at the door
by Lilac, her hand resting on the pommel of the vorpal sword.

Beyond
her, Horcalus was slouched over one of the tavern’s tables. His head, which had
been resting in his hands, jerked up at the sound of the door creaking open.
Klye wondered if the knight had actually fallen asleep while on watch but
thought it more likely that Horcalus had tried to stay awake even after his
shift was over.

“Well,
what happened?” Lilac asked, making her way over to a window that looked out
onto the deserted street. “You weren’t followed, were you?”

Scout
pulled out a chair and took a seat across from Horcalus at the table. “No
chance of that, Lilac. Even if the Knights had seen us…which I’m sure they
didn’t…there’s no way they could’ve followed the path we took back from the
fort. We made a lot of twists and turns because Klye wanted to be on the safe
side. That’s why it took so long to get back. I have a lot of experience with
losing pursuers. Just ask Leslie. There was this one time—”

Horcalus
cleared his throat. “What did you learn about the midge?”

Before
Scout could launch into a dramatic reenactment of what had happened, Klye said,
“We got there just in time to see the Knights let him in. We weren’t able to
get a good look at him, but judging by his size, I’d say that he was, in fact,
a midge.”

“Of
course he was,” Scout interrupted. “I saw him up close, remember. He was
wearing a wizard’s robe and had a pointy hat and carried a staff. What else
could he have been? A dwarf wouldn’t be caught dead dressing like that.”

“But
why would the Knights welcome a midge into their midst? What could it mean?”
Lilac asked.

“I
wish I knew,” Klye replied gravely.  “I suppose we should be happy he
didn’t wander into Port Stone, but we may end up encountering him yet…if he
stays at the fort.”

“You
mean you’re still planning on claiming Fort Faith for the Renegades…even though
the Knights got there first?” Scout asked.

Klye
nodded. “We’ve wasted precious time while they settled in, and I take full
responsibility for that. But since they don’t know we’re here, we have the
element of surprise. I haven’t thought of a plan on how to evict the Knights
yet. I’m open to suggestions.”

Horcalus
make a sour face, but when their eyes met, the knight quickly looked away.

“You
know, Klye,” Scout began, “I didn’t plan on sticking around once we got to Fort
Faith. I’ve always been loyal to the Renegades of Port Town. But I admire what
you’re trying to do out here. Maybe I’ll stick around and see how it all turns
out. You’ll probably need my help more than Leslie does anyway.”

Oblivious
to Klye’s surprised expression—he had assumed Scout would remain a member of
his
band—Scout continued, “Obviously, we don’t have enough people for a proper
siege, but there are plenty of other ways to harass the Knights. We could cut
off their food supply, though I’m sure they do a lot of their own hunting
anyway, so that might not work. I know a recipe for these stink bombs that
smell worse than Port Town’s sewers. Then again, if we’re going to occupy Fort
Faith after the Knights are gone, that might not be such a good idea. There’s
always the option of poisoning their water—”

Horcalus
jumped to his feet. The chair he had been sitting on fell backward with a
crash. “Absolutely not! These Knights have not harmed us in any way. I will not
stand idly by while you murder them!”

For
once, Scout was speechless. He stammered for a couple seconds, looking from
Klye to Lilac for help. Finally, he managed to say, “That’s not what I meant.
I’m no murderer. Not all poisons are lethal, you know!”

“What
do you suggest we do, Horcalus?” Lilac asked calmly.

The
knight continued to stare hard at Scout for a few seconds before letting out a
deep breath. As he turned to address Lilac, he seemed to regain his composure,
standing up straight with his arms at his sides. “Perhaps we ought to parley
with their commander.”

The
room was quiet as Klye considered the suggestion. What was the purpose of
meeting the Knights anywhere but the battlefield? It wasn’t as though anything
the Renegades said would convince the Knights to pack up and go on their merry
way.

“What
would we gain by parleying?” Scout asked.

“It’s
not what we would gain, but rather what we would not
lose
…namely, our
lives,” Horcalus explained, and there was an edge to the knight’s words that
told Klye he might have more to worry about than the midge at the fort.

“The
only reason I came to Capricon at all was because of Ragellan,” Horcalus
continued. “He thought there was a chance we would find the answer to why we
were arrested, but now Ragellan is dead, and I find myself assailed by still
more questions. Rather than meet the Knights of Fort Faith with weapons drawn,
I propose we greet them with words.”

He
still thinks this is just a misunderstanding, Klye realized. Despite what he
has seen with his own eyes, despite the fact that the Knights of Superius hired
assassins to kill him, Horcalus still thinks his former comrades are in the
right.

“The
Knights want you dead, Horcalus,” Klye stated. “If we approach the fort in
peace, the only answer you’re likely to get is a spear in the gut. I know you
were one of them once, but you must accept that the Knights of Superius have
changed…for the worse. They’re your enemies now.”

Horcalus
winced as though Klye had struck him. “No, Klye. The Knights are
your
enemies, the Renegades’ enemies. I am not a Renegade. Fight if you must, but I
am going to get to the bottom of this
my
way.”

Horcalus
stormed out of the common room, slamming the door to his room behind him
seconds later.

“I
didn’t mean to upset him,” Scout said quietly.

“It’s
not your fault,” Klye said. He could feel Lilac’s eyes on him, perhaps waiting for
him to go after the knight.

But
what could Klye possibly say to him? Could they blame Horcalus for not wanting
to confront his former friends? No, Dominic Horcalus was not a Renegade. He had
never been one.

Klye
was still trying to determine the best way to deal with this latest
complication when he heard the sound of a door opening back by the kitchen.
Klye immediately recalled the inn’s rear exit, a secured door that the
Renegades had left bolted.

Could
the Knights have followed them in spite of Scout’s best efforts?

Klye
leaped to his feet and saw Scout do the same. Both men had their hands on their
weapons, but before Klye could take even a single step toward the back door,
something moved in the shadows to his left.

His
heart skipped a beat when a tall silhouette separated itself from the darkness.
Klye moved to lunge at the intruder, but at the last second he recognized
Othello. The archer had been keeping watch on the other side of the common room
the entire time.

Now
Othello took great strides toward the bar and vanished into the kitchen. He
reemerged into the common room a moment later to report what Klye had already
begun to fear.

“Horcalus
is gone.”

*
         
*
         
*

When
he woke to someone beating a fist against his, Colt would have sworn he had
only just closed his eyes. It couldn’t possibly be morning already, his hazy
mind argued, but a cursory glance into the waking world—made through a single,
half-opened eye—provided him with proof.

Raising
a hand to shield his eyes against the sunlight, the young commander groaned and
threw back his blankets in surrender. As he rolled out of bed, his mind still
clouded by the ethers of sleep, the pounding came again—louder, more insistent.

“Just
a minute!”

He
dipped his hands in a basin on the table beside his bed and splashed some water
on his face. Had he overslept? He could think of only one person who would come
to fetch him if he had. Colt grabbed
Chrysaal-rûn
and stumbled to the
door without bothering to buckle belt or scabbard. He flung open the door,
expecting to find Lieutenant Gaelor Petton and his disapproving frown.

But
it was Cholk—wearing a disapproving frown.

Of
course, Cholk almost always scowled. Dwarves had the reputation for being
unfriendly to those not of their race, but Colt thought Cholk must be the
surliest of the lot.

“Good
morning, Cholk.” He hadn’t the slightest idea what had brought the reclusive
dwarf to his bedchamber so early in the morning, but at least it hadn’t been
Sir Petton beating down his door.

“They
say you let a midge in the fort,” Cholk said, his low, gravelly voice sounding
harsher than usual. “You tired of living, boy?”

The
memory of Noel’s late-night arrival returned in the blink of a red-rimmed eye.
“Great Pintor, that’s right! I had better talk with him before Sir Petton gets
there first.”

Without
bothering to close the door behind him, Colt took off in the direction of the
fortress’s meager guest quarters. Despite his shorter legs, Cholk had no
trouble keeping up with him. Colt knew the dwarf was not only faster and
stronger than one might guess, but also more intelligent than people gave him
credit for.

“You
seem to have an affinity for picking up strays,” Cholk said waving a thick,
stubby finger at him. “First, you and your uncle bring me to Port Errnot after
we cross paths on the road. Next, you invite Opal and that old doctor to tag
along once you reach the city. And now that we’re finally safe and sound in
this fort, you open your door to a midge. Blood and bones, boy!”

Colt
answered Cholk’s grousing with a pleading look. He had more important things to
worry about than Cholk’s dislike for someone he hadn’t even met yet. Then
again, Cholk’s resentment toward Noel made sense in a way.

Having
come from a far-off land somewhere in southern Thanatan, Cholk was unlike any
dwarf Colt had ever seen. The only dwarves the people of Continae typically
encountered were the inhabitants of Afren-Ckile—fair-skinned, bushy-bearded
traders and craftsmen who spent more time beneath the earth than above.

Cholk’s
people, on the other hand, were a dark-skinned race of nomadic warriors who
cared nothing for gold or jewels. They were a nocturnal people, waiting out the
day in mountain caves or ditches they would dig themselves and hunting at
night.

Unfortunately,
that was all Colt knew of Cholk’s people. The dwarf was extremely tight-lipped
about his past, which was another difference between him and the dwarves that
had visited Castle Crystalus. Why, on one occasion, an Afren-Ckile ambassador
had entertained the long into the night, sharing tales of his amazing
accomplishments as well as the heroic deeds of his ancestors.

But
there was one thing that Cholk had in common with his lighter-skinned cousins…

“I
thought the Knights of Superius were smart enough to stay away from
spell-flingers,” Cholk muttered, confirming Colt’s belief that no one
distrusted magic more than a dwarves.

“Judging
by how you feel about the midge, maybe it would be better if you weren’t there
when I—”

Colt
could not finish his sentence, for his lungs were suddenly bereft of air. Upon
rounding a corner, he had collided with Albert Simplington, the surgeon he had
hired in Port Errnot. The papers the doctor had been carrying fluttered in the
air all around them, yet somehow the skinny, old man had managed to remain on
his feet.

“Oh,
pardon me, Commander. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Neither
was I.” Colt knelt down to help the doctor gather his things.

Albert’s
long, white beard grazed the floor as he hunched over to retrieve the pages.
The creased, paper-thin skin on his hands and face appeared to be draped
directly over bone. Once Opal had joked that Albert was older than Continae
itself, but in truth, they had no idea what his age was.