Rebels and Fools (The Renegade Chronicles Book 1) (36 page)

He
found Sir Petton and Sir Wessner, the stableman, waiting in the hall outside
his room. To his surprise, the latter was clad in a massive hauberk of
scale-mail. An unremarkable baldric traced the Knight’s wide frame from
shoulder to hip, supporting a sheathed broadsword on his back. In addition to
the sword, Colt saw a steel-studded mace hanging from his belt.

Like
Colt, Sir Wessner carried a helm in one hand, but the stableman’s headpiece was
open-faced and of an older style than Colt’s. It looked well-used, probably
having been passed down a generation or two.

“Commander,
I request permission to join you in your search for Opal,” Sir Wessner said,
his tone formal.

Colt
looked from the large Knight to his lieutenant. Petton’s expression was
stern—as it was wont to be—but didn’t hint at his feelings on the matter.

Gaelor
Petton hadn’t been silent, however, on his disapproval of Colt’s leading the
search party. Colt, he had said, was too valuable to risk in such an
unstructured operation. While the Knights had good reason to believe Opal was
in peril—Nisson’s reappearing at the fort without her rider was enough to
suggest something was amiss—Petton pointed out that they would find Opal a lot
easier if they waited for morning when they could follow her tracks.

But
the letter from Commander Calhoun of Fort Miloásterôn had made waiting
impossible.

Colt
had quickly perused the contents of Calhoun’s letter, only to learn that a new
band of Renegades was making its way east. This band, accompanied by two rogue
Knights of Superius, had stirred up trouble in Port Town as well as compromised
relations between the Knights and the healers at the Temple of Mystel. In his
missive, Fredmont Calhoun warned him to be wary of these clever Renegades,
though he wouldn’t wager a guess at their intentions.

Colt
wanted to believe that the Renegades in the area and Opal’s disappearance were
unconnected, but he dared not wait until morning, when the trail might prove
too cold, to find out.

Colt
laid a gauntleted hand on Gregory Wessner’s shoulder and said, “I appreciate
the offer. However, I cannot ask any of the Knights to accompany me. We cannot
weaken Fort Faith’s security on the chance that one of its…
unofficial
residents has met trouble of some sort.”

Colt
tried to keep the sarcasm from his tone as he all but quoted Petton.

“On
the contrary,” Petton countered, “since I cannot convince you to wait until
tomorrow morning, it is in the best interest of Fort Faith that its commander
is well-protected and assisted during his mission.”

As
he welcomed Sir Wessner to join the search party, Colt gave Petton a smile,
grateful his lieutenant wasn’t treating him like the lovesick youth he probably
resembled.

“Sir
Silvercrown will be accompanying you as well,” Petton added.

“But
Zeke is in command of the night guard. I cannot ask him to come,” Colt said.

Without
looking at Colt, Petton replied, “I am to take his place tonight.”

Colt
didn’t know what to say. The lieutenant was willing to stay up all night so his
commander could embark on a mission he, Petton, thought unwise. “Sir Petton…I…”

“Your
thanks are neither necessary nor welcome, Commander,” Petton replied. “You can
express your gratitude by finding Miss Opal and returning with you, her, and
your men all in good health. And might I suggest parting ways with the midge
before you are welcomed back to Fort Faith?”

Colt
shrugged noncommittally.

He
had not particularly wanted Noel to come along, but the midge insisted.
Actually, he had begged, promising his magic would be of great help. Colt
didn’t want to think about what harm the little spell-caster might do, but
neither did he wish to leave Noel at Fort Faith with Petton and the others.
Reluctantly, he had agreed to let Noel tag along.

He
had agreed to other things too…

Descending
the grand stairway into the entry hall, Colt found Cholk leaning against one of
the thick columns supporting the high, vaulted ceiling. Sir Ezekiel
Silvercrown, bedecked in a cuirass of plate and ring mail, stood beside the
dwarf, testing his longsword in its scabbard.

Cholk
was covered in masterfully crafted armor composed of overlapping plates. The
hauberk did not shine in the flickering torchlight, as Sir Silvercrown’s did.
The dwarf’s armor appeared dull and black even in daylight, Colt knew, for the
body armor that covered Cholk from head to toe was not made of metal, but of
the carapace of some creature from his homeland.

A
stout short sword hung from his belt, but Colt had never seen the dwarf use it,
for Cholk preferred the iron battle-axe strapped to his back, a war trophy
taken from an unlucky ogre during his time in Thanatan. The weapon’s length was
more than half of the dwarf’s height, but Cholk bore its considerable weight
without difficulty. A variety of notches and scratches decorated the crescent
blade. The battle-axe was no stranger to battle—and neither was Cholk.

“About
time you got here,” Cholk said. “Maybe you can talk some sense into that fool
of a midge. He thinks he’s coming with us.”

Colt
spotted Noel sitting on the other side of the room, slumped up against a
column.

“You
didn’t kill him, did you?”

“Not
yet.”

When
he got closer, Colt realized Noel was neither dead nor napping. The midge was
reading a small leather-bound book and mumbling something to himself. He
scrambled to his feet when he noticed Cholk and the Knights standing over him.

“You’re
just in time,” Noel announced. “I just finished casting the spell that will
take us to Opal.”

Passage VII

Colt
held Noel’s innocent gaze in astonishment, marveling at the midge’s lack of
discretion.

Oblivious
to the discomfort he evoked, Noel tucked his spell book in a large pouch
hanging from his thick belt. Magic was an intrinsic part of Noel’s life.
Apparently, he couldn’t understand how others might be less receptive to the
idea of using it.

But
Colt couldn’t blame Noel for spilling the beans about the spell they would use
to track down Opal. It was Colt’s own fault for not telling Cholk about it
earlier. He had put off that unpleasant conversation for as long as possible,
irrationally hoping he might avoid it all together.

There
was never a good time to talk to a dwarf about magic.

Cholk
grabbed Colt’s arm. “You can’t be serious.”

The
dwarf’s deep voice resonated throughout the cavernous hall. With a sigh, Colt
turned around to regard the dwarf, who was practically trembling.

“Your
mind must be as addled as the midge’s,” Cholk continued. “Letting him tag along
is one thing, but now you’re going to use his magic? I’m beginning to wonder if
the midge hasn’t cast a spell on all of you!”

“My
name is Noel!” he shouted, taking a dangerous step closer to Cholk. “See,
there’s even a big letter
N
sewn onto my robe.”

Colt
placed himself between them. “Listen, Cholk. We were all hesitant about leveraging
Noel’s magic, but Opal’s life could well be at stake. We can’t waste time
probing the countryside, hoping we’ll run into her. And I won’t waste time
arguing about this. If you don’t want to accompany us, stay here. Your ability
to see in the dark and your prowess as a warrior will be greatly missed, but I
will have no contention in the party.”

Cholk’s
fuzzy black eyebrows rose, and Colt wondered if he had pushed the dwarf too
far. Then Cholk chuckled. Throwing up his hands, he said, “You may have lost your
mind, Colt, but your backbone is still intact. We’ll do things your way, but
don’t blame me if the midge and his hocus-pocus gets us lost…or worse.”

Colt
let out a deep breath. “How exactly does the spell work, Noel?”

“It’s
already working,” Noel said as he bent down and picked up something from the
floor—a crossbow. “So long as I have this, ‘a possession linked to the target’s
life-essence,’ I can follow the pull to her location.”

“Is
this like the pull that took you to Albert’s room?” Cholk muttered, but Colt
shot the dwarf a withering glance, and he didn’t interrupt again.

“So
you know where Opal is now?” Colt asked Noel.

“No,
but I can take you to her.”

“Then
let’s go.”

Colt
nodded a farewell to Petton, who gave a sharp salute in reply. The lieutenant
had been as skeptical about using Noel’s magic as Cholk was, but Petton had not
pressed the issue, claiming this was Colt’s mission and he should manage it as
he saw fit.

Dusk
had settled over the quiet territory around Fort Faith by the time they closed
the doors behind them. Colt had always had the feeling that the Knights were
the only people on the island when he looked out at the plain and the
jagged-peaked mountains beyond.

But
now he knew they were not alone. Somewhere out there was an old surgeon, his
dear friend Opal, and a band of Renegades.

Noel
led the way, holding the crossbow before him like an oversized divining rod.
Colt and Cholk followed close behind the midge. Colt was comforted by the
dwarf’s presence; the search party needed Cholk for his keen eyes, which could
pierce the veil of the oncoming darkness. But he depended on Cholk for support
as well. With the brave warrior marching beside him, Colt felt as though they
could not fail.

Sir
Silvercrown and Sir Wessner brought up the rear. He glanced back at the two
Knights, giving them a reassuring smile, which they both returned tentatively.
Colt was grateful for their company as well. While he did not know Gregory
Wessner very well—Lieutenant Petton frowned upon officers commiserating overmuch
with subordinates—Colt had spent more than a few sleepless nights in the
company of Subcommander Ezekiel Silvercrown. Zeke had a friendly,
straightforward manner that Colt found engaging.

That
Zeke and Sir Wessner would accompany him on such a dubious mission—following a
midge into the night to search for a woman who may or may not be a captive of
Renegades—said much about the Knights’ faith in their leader. Noel, too, was
putting his life at risk for no other reason than to be helpful.

As
the five of them cut a swath across the quiet landscape, the weight of Colt’s
equipment began to tell. Minor aches crept up beneath his armor, and sweat
tickled his warm skin as it trickled down his body. The day had been hot, and
while the air was cooling as the sun dipped behind the Rocky Crags, it was
still quite humid.

They
said little as they followed Noel, who remained surprisingly quiet while
leading them in a southwesterly direction. Soon the creaks of their armor and
the scraping of boots were the only sounds they contributed to the chirruping
crickets and gentle breezes through the tall grass.

More
than the physical discomfort and weariness, Colt was beleaguered by impatience.
He had briefly considered conducting their search from atop horses, but despite
the relatively even ground beneath their feet, Colt knew that the shadows of
twilight concealed imperfections in the terrain. A gopher hole was little more
than an annoyance to a man; that same crevice could leave a horse lame.

They
took a short break when the stars began to poke through the carapace of
darkening night. Colt stared straight ahead at nothing while they caught their
breath and rubbed body parts that were sore and chafed. He knew they were doing
all they could, including tapping into the mysteries of the arcane, but their
insufferably slow pace was irritating.

More
than anything, he worried about Opal. The letter from Fort Miloásterôn had
warned that the Renegades of western Capricon were growing more aggressive,
more overt in their efforts. Commander Calhoun mentioned open rebellion in the
streets of Port Town and a large rebel force invading the city of North Port.
Clearly, the Renegades were willing to take drastic measures in their attempt
to usurp the crown from the King of Superius.

Colt
had seen the rebels’ desperation firsthand on his trek from Castle Crystalus to
Port Errnot in West Cape. He, his cousin, and his uncle, Sir Rollace White, had
been waylaid by a Renegade Leader named Osric Curraal.

Osric
had learned about Colt’s promotion and wanted to capture—or kill—the newly
appointed commander long before he reached his post in Capricon. Osric Curraal
had surrounded himself with a motley band of misanthropes. The three Knights
had been outnumbered four to one, but none of them considered surrender as an
option.

Sir
Byron Vanguard, Colt’s cousin, didn’t survive the battle. Colt and Sir Rollace
would surely have joined their kinsman in death if not for Cholk’s
interference. The dwarf had been a member of Osric’s Renegade band. To this
day, Colt did not know how Cholk had come to serve the outlaws, but the dwarf
betrayed the Renegades that day.

Only
the Renegade Leader had managed to escape.

Osric
Curraal had been a merciless man, thirsty for bloodshed and hungry for victory
at any cost. Colt had no reason to believe Capricon’s newest Renegade Leader
would prove to be any different, though Colt prayed to Pintor the Warriorlord
that Opal was still alive.

If
these rebels had done anything to Opal, Colt swore he would teach them all the
meaning of the word vengeance.

*
         
*
         
*

It
took only a few minutes for the Renegades to gather their gear and prepare to
depart. Klye briefly considered rearranging the inn’s furniture so it didn’t
look so lived-in, but they couldn’t hope to hide all of the tracks they had
left around the ghost town. Nor could they replace the dust that was
conspicuously missing from floors, bedspreads, and tabletops.

The
Knights would easily guess that the Renegades had stayed in Port Stone, but
Klye planned to be long gone before they ever got there.

The
most difficult part of their evacuation was managing the prisoner. Red went out
of her way to be difficult, refusing to take a step as they readied to leave
the port and dragging her feet when he ordered Pistol and Crooker to assist
her.

Klye
was mighty curious about Red, particularly why she was staying at Fort Faith,
but he had more important things to worry about. Scout recommended heading for
the mountains where, among the caves and cliffs, they could lay low. But first,
they had to put some distance between themselves and Port Stone—not to mention
Wizard’s Mountain.

So
the band of eight and their captive followed the foothills of the Rocky Crags
due north. Klye didn’t like the idea of going
closer
to Fort Faith, but
going south wasn’t an option. According to Scout, the crags that sprawled south
and east of Port Stone were all but impassable due to a number of steep climbs,
sudden drops, and frequent landslides. They would make their camp in the
mountains to the west of Fort Faith, where a well-placed lookout could keep an
eye on the Knights’ movements in the valley below.

As
they drew nearer to the fort, following an old road for a time but ultimately
leaving it behind as it curved eastward, Klye called for absolute silence. He
had no idea how far a patrol might stray from the fort—or even if they would
venture forth at night—but he would not allow idle chitchat to jeopardize their
safety.

His
eyes sweeping the darkening countryside for signs of trouble, Klye used the
time to sort out his next move. How might he use Red to gain leverage over the
Knights of Fort Faith? But even as Klye plotted, his mind wandered back to
Arthur’s accusatory queries about Horcalus.

In
truth, Klye did feel as though he were abandoning the man, even though Horcalus
had left the Renegades of his own accord. What could Klye have done differently
to avoid that bitter farewell? And what could he do now to make amends?

They
were forced to slow their pace when the sun was swallowed up by the stony peaks
to their left. Klye followed Scout, who walked a few yards before the band to
make sure the way was clear. Othello brought up the rear, occasionally cresting
the top of a hill to ensure there was no threat to their flanks.

When
they finally took a break, Klye pushed his concern for Horcalus from his mind.
Although they were practically out in the open, with Fort Faith closer than
Port Stone, Klye allowed himself to relax a little. Letting his mind wander,
his thoughts turned to the midge.

Why
is this bothering me so much? he wondered.

The
King of Superius had publicly encouraged foreigners to settle in Capricon, and
the midge were members of the fledgling Alliance of Nations—which was enough to
justify a rebellion in itself, Klye mused. While it was unusual to find a midge
inside a Superian fortress, it was perhaps not completely unheard of. For all
Klye knew, he was an ambassador of Pickelo, the midge homeland.

With
a sigh, Klye pushed thoughts of the midge aside too. It was time to renew their
hike into the mountains. The band felt incomplete with both Ragellan and
Horcalus gone, but Klye had to admit that it felt good to be on the move again.
His spirits lifted considerably when he imagined the Knights combing the woods
or ransacking Port Stone in search for Red.

Klye
allowed himself a half smile, certain the Knights would never catch them.

*
         
*
         
*

Colt
felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. When the rescue party had
started out, they had been heading as much to the south as to the west.
Gradually, their path had leveled out, however, taking them almost due west.
Now, with the western foothills before them, they were actually angling back to
the north a bit.

He
ordered a halt.

Noel
glanced back at him. The pointed, straw hat cast his face in shadow. “Are you
tired again already? We’re getting really close now, Colt. If we stop now, we
might never find her.”

“Noel…”
He drew in a deep breath, not knowing quite where to start. “We’re heading in a
completely different direction from when we started. Are you sure your spell is
working?”

“Of
course it is,” Noel replied, lifting the crossbow toward Colt, as if that
should explain everything.

“Then
why didn’t you just take us this direction in the first place?” he asked.

Noel
used one of the crossbow’s limbs to scratch beneath his hat. “Because Opal
wasn’t over here before. Now she is.”

“Noel,
that’s impossible, unless…”

Colt
stopped, his mouth hanging open. Of course! The reason they could not follow a
straight line to Opal was because Opal herself was on the move. Bolstered by
Noel’s declaration that she was close by, Colt resumed the march at twice the
speed.