Rebels and Fools (The Renegade Chronicles Book 1) (39 page)

Cholk
let out a thunderous guffaw. “His brain is more scrambled than an omelet!”

Behind
them, the two Knights failed to completely muffle their laughter.

“I’m
telling the truth!” Noel cried. “Why doesn’t anyone ever believe me?”

The
midge stomped away to pout at the edge of the group. Colt couldn’t deny Noel
was an enigma. The fact he believed himself the pantheon’s personal champion
cast his credibility into doubt.

But
if Noel had been right about Albert—a mystery in of himself—might the midge be
speaking the truth about Klye Tristan? Noel’s tales were too preposterous to
believe, and yet Colt was beginning to think there was at least a seed of truth
in everything he said.

As
for removing that kernel from the fabrications and exaggerations surrounding
it…

Colt
wondered if he should bother sorting through everything Noel “knew” about the
Renegade Leader. In the end, he knew that he had to try. As Noel, his spirits
apparently on the rise, whistled a monotone ditty, Colt let out another sigh.

It
wasn’t as though Noel had any intention of leaving Fort Faith anyway.

*
         
*
         
*

The
first rays of dawn were creeping into the eastern skies when the Renegades
stopped to make camp. Theirs had been an uneventful hike through the foothills
of the Rocky Crags and then into the mountains themselves. Whatever energy
hadn’t been sapped by the unexpected skirmish with the Knights had been spent
by the hours of walking and climbing that followed.

The
band of nine veritably collapsed upon reaching the spot Scout had chosen. The
ground was hard but mostly flat. Jagged walls of rock rose around them at
varying heights, concealing them from searching eyes and protecting them from
the powerful gusts that seemed to shake the mountains.

Klye
decided to keep two people on watch at all times. He didn’t expect the Knights
would come looking for them so soon, but he wouldn’t take chances. The Knights
of Superius had caught him off guard once. He vowed to be ready for their
second meeting.

Besides,
there were other threats to watch out for, including mountain lions, bears, and
the wizard Albert.

Tired
though he was, Klye took first watch. His body was exhausted, and his head hurt
where Red had kicked him, but he knew his busy mind wouldn’t let him fall
asleep. Horcalus volunteered to join him.

The
rogue knight had kept his distance during their trek into the Rocky Crags, and
Klye had been content to let him sort things out in his own way. But it was
time to settle things once and for all.

Wrapped
in a thick coat he had found in one of Port Stone’s deserted homes, Horcalus
sat on a flat outcropping. For a moment, Klye just stared at the man, who, in
turn, stared out at the valley below. With his piercing gray eyes and his sharp
beak of a nose, Horcalus resembled of a bird of prey, though Klye suspected
Horcalus was seeing more than the quiet landscape.

“I
take it the Knights didn’t like what you had to say.” Klye kept his tone light,
using humor to mask his discomfort.

Horcalus
kept on looking down at the valley. When he spoke, his voice was so quiet, so
serious, Klye immediately regretted his flippant comment.

“I
never made it to Fort Faith,” Horcalus said. “Deep down, I knew you were right.
I knew I would be throwing my life away if I went to the Knights. Anger blinded
my reason…or maybe a part of me did not care if they killed me. Regardless, I
regret how I have treated you and the others.”

Klye
didn’t know what to say. He realized, then, how little he knew Dominic
Horcalus. He had become friends with Ragellan during their short time together,
but while he had always valued Horcalus’s prowess in battle, not to mention how
he followed orders without question, Klye had never treated Horcalus as a
confidant.

With
the exception of Arthur, Horcalus had distanced himself from the other members
of the band. Klye had dismissed Horcalus’s aloofness as a manifestation of the
man’s pride, but he was beginning to see there was more to it than that. If
Horcalus felt as though he didn’t belong with the Renegades, Klye was as much
to blame as the rogue knight.

“And
I regret how the Renegades have treated you…how
I
have treated you,”
Klye said. “I should have been more considerate of your situation. You never
wanted to join the rebellion. Every day you spend with us must rub your
conscience the wrong way.”

“It
is not easy for me to be at odds with the laws I swore to enforce, but you lead
your band with a kind of honor I have come to respect.” Horcalus looked Klye in
the eyes. “I did not like you from the start, Klye. I did not
want
to
like you, for in doing so, I would have to admit the line separating good and
evil is not as absolute as I had always believed. However, I am beginning to
see what Ragellan saw in you…and why he chose to follow you out of Superius.”

“I
would like for us to be friends,” Klye said.

“I
would like that too,” Horcalus replied, exhibiting as big a smile as Klye had
ever seen on the sullen man’s face.

“Does
this mean you are here to stay?” Klye asked.

Horcalus
let out a deep breath. “I have not forgotten your kindness in saving Ragellan
and me from the Citadel Dungeon. I am in your debt and will fight by your
side.”

“There’s
no debt, Horcalus. I’m not forcing you…or anyone in the band…to stay against
his will. I’d rather you remain because you want to.”

Horcalus
paused, fixing Klye with a scrutinizing stare, before finally nodded. “Then I
will stay with the band out of obligation to the friendships I have forged. I
have come to accept that the Knighthood’s morality is in a state of decay. I
renounce my loyalty to that order and pledge it to you.”

The
former Knight paused again, as if considering his words. “And yet my own
scruples may inhibit me from following some of your orders. There are some
deeds, such as murder, that my conscience simply cannot abide.”

“I
wouldn’t want you to do anything you feel is wrong,” Klye assured him. “And I
want you to tell me what’s on your mind. That goes for everyone in my
band…except maybe Plake.”

Horcalus
chuckled and then nodded.

Klye
took a few steps toward the trail winding down into the vale. His spirits were
lighter, despite the fact they had lost not only their prisoner, but also the
element of surprise. He decided Horcalus was a worthy trade.

Now
if only he could figure out how Noel fit into it all…

Passage X

Lord
Magnes Minus sat at his favorite desk in the library of the Celestial Palace.
Countless tomes covered the polished wooden surface. Most of the books were
opened to specific passages, while others were stacked in orderly piles,
awaiting the lord’s attention. The first rays of the morning light streaming
through the tall, pentagonal windows couldn’t hope to fill the spacious room,
so he kept a steady supply of candles at the ready.

Aside
from the evening hours he set aside for his wife, Lady Corrine, this was his
favorite part of the day, partaking in his favorite hobby—the study of Altaerran
history. Precious few things could distract the Lord of Capricon like tracing
the lives of heroes and villains, kings and would-be conquerors.

He
took great pleasure in collecting pieces of the puzzle and arranging them in
proper order, filling in the blanks and flat out rejecting accounts that did
not logically fit into the overall scheme. The exercise kept his mind sharp, he
believed, but more than that, examining the past gave him a break from the
problems of the present—of which there were many.

The
Celestial Palace’s numerous inhabitants knew better than to disturb their lord
when he sought sanctuary in the library. So Lord Minus was startled when a
shadow fell over his desk.

He
removed his spectacles, rubbed his tired eyes, and looked up to find Sir Bryant
Walden and a man he did not recognize before him. Not giving the stranger a
second thought, the he regarded Sir Walden warily. For as long as Bryant Walden
had held the position of High Commander, he had never barged into Minus’s place
of refuge for anything short of an emergency.

His
heart skipped a beat when he thought of all the things that could be going
wrong in Rydah at that very moment. The Thief Guild that called the capital
home had been quiet as of late, which made Magnes Minus more than a little
uneasy. Every now and then, a small fleet of Thanatan ships would pillage
Capricon’s coasts, but the ogres hadn’t made any trouble in years, and human
pirates were seldom foolhardy enough to openly defy Rydah’s defenses.

The
rebels, on the other hand…

Port
Town’s Renegades were growing more dangerous by the day, according to Mayor
Beryl. Rydah’s Renegades had always been a secretive lot, an underground
movement more concerned with waging a war of threats and propaganda than one
with weapons. But with the Renegade Leader Domacles Herronin taking overt
action against North Port, might the Renegades of Rydah be on the verge of
attempting something similar?

“What
is it, my friend?” he asked Sir Bryant, rising quickly to his feet. In his
mind, he saw riots in the streets, the walls of the Celestial Palace bathed in
blood and flame. “Is everything all right?”

Sir
Bryant gave the Lord of Capricon a reassuring smile. “Everything is fine,
milord. I am sorry to disturb you, but we have been honored by the arrival of a
most unexpected guest.”

Minus
looked away from the Knight to gaze upon the gentleman beside him. He was
certain had never seen the man in his life. And yet there was something
familiar about the stranger. Although he wore the clothes of an ordinary
traveler, he detected something noble in the younger man’s face and posture. He
wore his light hair tied back in a thong and met the lord’s stare with supreme
confidence, as though he were regarding someone lesser than himself.

It
was in those eyes, the bluest of blues and positioned between a sharp but regal
nose, that Lord Minus recognized the stranger for who he was.

“It
cannot be,” Minus whispered, his eyes widening in surprise even as his mouth drew
up into a great grin. “Prince Eliot, we are indeed honored by your presence!”

Magnes
Minus hurried around the desk and genuflected, all the while wanting to sweep
the boy up into a big hug. Eliot Borrom had been five years old when he had
last graced the Celestial Palace with his presence. During his stay, Magnes and
Corrine Minus, who had never conceived children of their own, had come to think
of little Eliot as their own. He had maintained regular correspondences with
the prince for many years after his return to Superius.

With
joy in his heart, Lord Minus welcomed Eliot Borrom, the Crown Prince of
Superius, back to the island. He knew he must resist the urge to embrace him,
for the prince was a boy no more. Looking into that face, which had gained the
handsomeness of maturity without losing the charm of youth, Magnes Minus felt
his own years catch up with him all at once.

Sir
Walden cleared his throat, and Lord Minus felt his face flush. He had been
staring at the prince for a long period of silence, and Prince Eliot was
regarding him with an odd expression, perhaps embarrassed by his host’s
reaction.

“My
apologies,” Lord Minus said, “but by the gods’ light, it is good to see you
again. To what do we owe this wonderful surprise?”

His
blue eyes narrowing, Prince Eliot spoke for the first time since entering the
library. “I do apologize for not writing ahead to tell you of my coming.
However, I could not risk sending word, lest the Renegades learn of it and make
an attempt on my life. In case you have forgotten, Lord Minus, we are in the
midst of war.”

Not
knowing quite how to take the prince’s last words, Lord Minus simply smiled,
thinking Eliot was trying to make a joke. While it was true that the rebels’
influence was escalating, King Edward Borrom III, Eliot’s own father, was
always the first to refer to the political unrest as an actual war.

But
Prince Eliot was not smiling.

“Forgive
my rudeness,” Lord Minus said, eager to change the subject. “You must be tired
after your long voyage. Do you hunger? I am sure Lady Corrine would love for
you to join us at breakfast—”

“I
am not here on holiday,” the prince stated. “For the moment I require only a
room and absolute privacy”

“Of
course, my prince.” Lord Minus made another bow, trying to ignore the sting of
Eliot’s rejection. He reminded himself that Eliot Borrom was no longer an
affectionate child, content to spend hours with the doting Lord and Lady of
Capricon. Still, the prince’s aloofness hurt him.

“As
for why I am here,” Eliot continued, “suffice it to say my father is not
pleased with how things are progressing in Capricon. Nowhere are the rebels
more bold and unruly than they are on your island. I was sent to evaluate the
situation and take control as I see fit.”

Magnes
Minus was at a loss for words. What, exactly, was Prince Eliot proposing? Sir
Bryant Walden—indeed, most all of the Knights of Superius in Capricon—had long
expressed their desire to march against the rebels in order to wipe them out.
But their orders, straight from the King of Superius himself, prohibited them
from taking action against the Renegades.

How
could King Edward be upset with the Lord of Capricon’s conservative efforts to
thwart the rebellion when the king himself had ordained that approach? Had the
king drastically altered his approach to dealing with the rebels? Was he, the
Lord of Capricon, to become a scapegoat, taking the blame for not stopping the
rebels from the start?

“Of…of
course, my prince,” Minus said at last.

“I
will have a full report on the recent activities of Capricon’s Renegades
brought to my room in exactly two hours,” the prince ordered. “I trust you can
set aside your leisure activities long enough to fulfill your responsibilities
as the governor of this province?”

“Of
course,” Minus repeated numbly.

“Then
I require nothing more of you…for now,” Eliot said. “Seneschal, take me to my
room.”

Lord
Minus stood rooted in front of his desk as Sir Walden led the prince away. The
High Commander glanced back only once, regarding Minus with an uneasy look,
before he and Eliot exited the library. Minus stood motionless for many minutes
after they were out of sight, wondering where he had gone wrong, how he could
have possibly displeased the king, a man known for his patience and wisdom.

And
he mourned the loss of the Eliot Borrom he had known—and feared the man he had
become.

*
         
*
         
*

Eliot
Borrom dismissed the seneschal without a word, slamming the door behind him and
jerking the bolt into place. He considered using his secret talent to further
secure the door but decided against it. He was confident Lord Minus would
follow his orders implicitly.

The
Crown Prince of Superius was accustomed to being obeyed without question and
without failure.

During
Eliot’s audience with the Lord of Capricon, one of the palace’s chamberlains had
brought the small leather bag, which was the prince’s only luggage, to his
room. Sparing not a glance at the luxurious accommodations, Eliot walked over
to the wardrobe on which his bag rested.

He
untied the drawstrings and thrust a hand into the bag, fishing around until he
felt a cool, smooth surface. An expression of distaste contorted his handsome
face when he pulled out the mirror. He would never get used to the way the
taint of magic made his skin crawl.

Eliot
stared into the mirror for several long minutes, focusing on his reflection’s
bright blue eyes and silently sending his call through the talisman. A few
minutes passed before the surface rippled, and the prince watched as his face
was slowly replaced by the visage of a goblin.

The
soldier’s far-set eyes betrayed equal measures of devotion and fear.

“
N’Pruelta
,
it is an unexpected pleasure to see you again.” The goblin lowered his eyes
deferentially as he spoke.

Eliot
could not suppress a wry chuckle at the word “
n’Pruelta
,” which meant
“my prince” in the goblin tongue. Indeed, Eliot Borrom had come to be the
prince—the master—of men and goblins alike. There were quite a few differences
between the two races, Eliot allowed, and yet both made worthy sycophants.

“Drekk’t,”
Eliot greeted, intentionally leaving off the goblin’s rank. He had learned long
ago that the best way to retain power was to strip everyone else of theirs.

After
an uncomfortable pause, Drekk’t asked, “How can I serve you,
n’Pruelta
?”

The
way the goblin squirmed under his gaze made Eliot smile; Drekk’t certainly knew
his place.

“I
am in the city of Rydah,” the prince said.

Drekk’t’s
eyes grew as wide and round as dwarven bucklers. “So near,
n’Pruelta
!
Had I known you were arriving, I would have prepared a proper welcome—”

“Don’t
be ridiculous,” Eliot admonished. “What would you have done, organized a goblin
parade to march down the thoroughfares of the capital? I require no such
attention. But tell me, Drekk’t, has anything noteworthy occurred during my
voyage?”

Drekk’t’s
shoulders straightened as he announced, “Our presence remains undetected,
n’Pruelta
.
That is to say, the woodcutters who settled near our camp a few days past have
all been killed…their remains, destroyed.”

More
likely eaten, the prince thought. “Has anyone come looking for them?”

The
goblin’s head was shaking before the prince finished the question. “The
skirmish happened away from our camp. We were never in danger of being
discovered. Our spies within the capital have heard nothing of the missing men.
Upsinous willing, the Knights will blame the Renegades for the woodcutters’
disappearance.”

“And
what is the status of your army?”

The
goblin took a big breath before answering. “My warriors are eager for battle.
They are disciplined but grow tired of waiting, tired of hiding from the
enemy.” The goblin lowered his round, bald head again. “The army is at your
command,
n’Pruelta
. We are ready to do your bidding!”

“Patience,”
Eliot intoned, scolding the overzealous general as though he were little more
than a whelp, newly weaned from his mother’s teat. “I have not come to
instigate open war. I have worked too long and too hard to maintain our shroud
of secrecy to jeopardize my plans now. I will not cast all that careful
planning aside so that you and your warriors can slake your thirst for blood.”

“Of
course,
n’Pruelta
.”

“You
have done well thus far, Drekk’t. You would do well to avoid doing anything to
lose my favor.”

“Of
course,
n’Pruelta
.”

“I
will not take command of either your army or the troops in Port Town at this
time. I will, however, require two warriors to serve as my personal bodyguards
throughout the duration of my stay in Capricon. My subjects may grow suspicious
if I roam the island without at least some protection. Choose two of your
bravest and most intelligent soldiers…they will have to take on the appearance
of humans.”

Drekk’t’s
green-gray face drained to an ashen yellow. The assignment was more like a
punishment than a privilege, Eliot knew, for no goblin would take joy in
impersonating an ugly, weak-minded human.