“It’s simple, Saerylton,” Sir Petton had told him after a restless night. “The Renegades in this province have gotten out of hand. Commander Bismarc does not have enough men to patrol this far from Fort Valor, so we were summoned to keep the rebels from running amok.”
Veteran Knight and second-in-command at the fort, Gaelor Petton refused to call Colt by his nickname on principle. Colt suspected that Petton inwardly cringed every time one of the men called him Commander Colt, though Colt would have it no other way. In his mind, “Commander Crystalus” was his father’s title.
Besides, he had never cared much for the name Saerylton.
“I know why the Knighthood chose to make Fort Faith an active base again,” Colt had replied. “I just don’t know why I was placed in command. Clearly, you are the better man for the job. I really don’t know what I would have done without you these past weeks.”
Petton acknowledged the compliment with a curt nod. It had taken a lot of work to make Fort Faith habitable, not to mention organize the duty roster. Having been an officer for all of nine weeks—eight of them spent in transit—Colt hadn’t known where to start. Thankfully, Gaelor Petton had been at his side at every step of the way.
“I mean no disrespect, Commander,” Petton had said, “but has it occurred to you that your surname might have something to do with your auspicious promotion? We all know that King Edward does not wish to go to war with the Renegades. Capricon’s forts…and the castles of Superius, for that matter…are populated with as few Knights as is absolutely necessary. We are here to sit tight and look intimidating until further notice, a task that does not necessarily require a leader with much experience.”
Thinking back on it tonight, Colt found himself smiling. At first, he had been offended by Petton’s brusqueness, but he had come to realize that the lieutenant always said exactly what was on his mind.
“I never made a secret of my desire to confront the Renegades in open combat,” Petton had added. “Apparently, my former commander grew tired of hearing my complaints. That is why I am here.”
If Gaelor Petton was bitter about his new assignment, he never showed it in his work. The man did all that was required of him and more. Whether placed in the thick of battle or at the edge of civilization, Sir Petton would never shirk from his duties as a Knight.
And yet, Colt could not accept his fate so easily.
As he stared out the window at the still scenes outside the fort, his eyes tracing the steep summit of Wizard’s Mountain, he pondered Petton’s words. Colt had come to terms with the fact he wouldn’t even be at Fort Faith were he of a noble family, but how could he ever hope to live up to his father’s reputation, not to mention the valorous deeds of their ancestors. How could he be expected to do so much so early in his career?
Sighing, Colt turned away from the window. Albert, the fort’s physician, had given him some herbs to induce sleep, but they had not worked. Maybe a midnight stroll through the fortress’s interior would tire him out. He had promised Petton he wouldn’t walk the ramparts like a common sentry, but he was under no obligation to wait out the morning in his room.
On his way to the door, Colt went to pick up his sword but then thought better of it. While there was a certain comfort in keeping the sword close by—Chrysaal-rûn had belonged to his father and to his father’s father and so forth for as far back as anybody could recollect—Colt doubted he would need a weapon during his late-night stroll.
He deserved Chrysaal-rûn as much as he deserved his command. Perhaps his father had given him the crystal sword assuming his youngest son would need all the help he could get.
His mind flitted from thought to thought as he wandered one corridor after another. When a faded tapestry caught his eye, he stopped to look it. The woven mural was one of the few decorations that had survived both the passing of war and the ravages of time. Albeit a bit faded and frayed, the tapestry clearly depicted some long-ago battle between the Knights of Superius and another knightly order Colt couldn’t identify.
A short while later, he came upon a door he recognized. Impulsively, he brought his hand up to knock, but he could come up with no reasonable excuse for waking the woman inside at such a late hour.
He jumped guiltily when someone called his name from farther down the hallway. It was Chadwich Vesparis, one of the night patrolmen. The Knight was drenched, and a chain of tiny lakes formed with every step he took.
When had it started raining? Colt wondered. The sky had been perfectly clear earlier. Yet now that he listened, he could hear heavy raindrops tapping against the ceiling.
“I have been looking everywhere for you,” Sir Vesparis said, performing a rigid salute.
Colt swallowed a lump in his throat and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I couldn’t sleep, so I—”
“There is a traveler at the front door, Commander. He wants to speak with you.”
Not dressed for an audience of any sort, Colt said, “Unless it is an emergency, tell the man I will meet with him in the morning. He is welcome to wait out the storm in the infirmary.”
“You did not let me finish,” Sir Vesparis said. “The traveler is not a man at all…it’s a midge.”
Colt’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes, which had flared open at the mention of the midge, now closed as he silently prayed to the all the Gods of Good that the Knight was mistaken.
* * *
Lilac clutched her coat tightly around her. Her hair fell over her face and shoulders in sodden clumps. She heard her mother’s voice, warning her of the dire consequences of being outdoors with wet hair.
It can’t be helped, she silently defended, not unless I want to give up being clean.
She had not needed her coat on the way to the river, a secluded bend in the Divine Divider where she could bathe in privacy. But now the sun was setting, and she might have been able to see her breath in the air if her body hadn’t lost all its heat in the river’s chilly waters. It had felt more like late summer than autumn back near Pillars, but at the foot of the Rocky Crags, winter loomed just around the corner.
Wandering down one of Port Stone’s empty streets, she spotted Crooker and Pistol fishing from a pier. She hoped they managed to catch something for supper. Othello had brought down a doe on their second day at the ghost town, but that meat was already gone, and none of them had been able to find any wild vegetables growing in the area.
Aside from the limited cuisine, Lilac could not complain about their accommodations. The ramshackle inn was comfortable. After everything they had endured with the goblins, the Knights, and the assassins, it felt good to rest and let their tightly-wound nerves loosen a little.
Although this was only their fourth day in Port Stone, she was beginning to feel at home in the ghost town—which startled her a bit. Ever since she had been old enough to leave her father’s house and travel on her own, she had been doing just that. In her twenty-six years, Lilac Zephyr had traveled from one end of Continae to the other, and even though she had come to Capricon on dire business, she had been more than a little excited at the prospect of going somewhere new.
There was a certain charm to the island, she thought. Even though Superius had acquired Capricon more than three hundred years ago, Lilac felt as though she were in an untamed land. Unlike Superius, with its populous cities and patrolled highways, Capricon had yet to have all of its mysteries revealed.
Staying in Port Stone was like living with one foot in the past.
During her excursions throughout Continae, she had befriended folks from just about everywhere. No group of sojourners, however, could compare with this band. The Renegades were the most interesting people she had ever met. Klye sometimes reminded her of her brother—albeit a moodier version.
She sighed at the thought of the Renegade Leader, but her reverie was interrupted by the sound of someone coming up behind her. Lilac gripped the hilt of the vorpal sword and spun around, expecting to find anything from a brigade of goblins to a caval
cade of Superian Knights.
But it was only Scout.
The hooded man was running toward her with all of his might, which made her wonder if he was being chased. She squinted her eyes, looking past him, but she could see very little of anything due to the lengthening shadows of the Rocky Crags.
“What is it? Are you being followed?” Lilac asked.
Scout shook his head. After a few gulps of breath, he said, “No. I don’t think he saw me.”
“Who?”
Scout didn’t answer. He was looking past Lilac toward the pier. Apparently the pirates had taken note of Scout’s abrupt arrival, for they were already on their way over.
“What’s goin’ on?” Crooker asked.
Scout took a deep breath. “All right…now I know I was supposed to be keeping watch at the north end of town, but I figured the Knights, if they were to come back and check on Port Stone, would come from the northeast anyway, so I decided to follow the road in that direction. All was quiet until I got near that mountain path we had used to cross the Rocky Crags.
“He came out of nowhere. I dove for cover and waited until he was well past before I raced back here. He couldn’t have seen me. Aladon’s eyebrows, I hope he didn’t see me.”
“Who?” Lilac, Crooker, and Plake all demanded at once.
“A midge,” Scout replied gravely.
Pistol muttered a curse as colorful as it was filthy. Lilac, on the other hand, was speechless. After being ambushed by goblins, she had thought nothing about Capricon would surprise her again. She had been wrong.
“You think he’s followin’ us?” Crooker asked.
“Maybe the sai-morí and Dark Lily were just the beginning of our problems,” Pistol said. “The Knights could’ve hired another spell-caster. Gods, I hate magic.”
Scout was already shaking his head. “I don’t think the Knights would stoop that low. Besides, he…I think it was a he…was heading east.”
“So, he’s not coming here?” Crooker asked hopefully.
“He’s going to Fort Faith…or at least in that direction,” Scout replied.
Lilac couldn’t guess what the presence of the midge portended, but it couldn’t possibly be a good omen. “We had better tell Klye about this.”
Pistol laughed humorlessly. “Whatever good that’ll do.”
Lilac frowned. “Why don’t you three tell the others?” To Pistol she added, “I’ll give Klye the bad news.”
Hurrying to the yellow inn, she knew she would find Klye where he always was. Ever since he and Scout had discovered the Knights at Fort Faith, he had done nothing but sulk in the room he claimed as his own. Lilac, like everyone else, had been content to leave him alone until he snapped out of it. But four days was long enough.
If Klye wanted to continue being their leader, it was time for him to start acting like one.
* * *
Colt was staring speechlessly at Sir Vesparis when a door to their right opened. The young commander wrenched his gaze from the Knight’s somber visage and found a much fairer face. Her long, red hair disheveled and enchanting green eyes squinting in the torchlight, the sleepy maiden flashed the two men an uneven smile.
“Is it morning already?” she asked.
The sheer, white nightgown clung to her shapely figure in a most alluring manner, its hemline well above her freckled knees. His face burning with embarrassment, Colt forced his eyes to meet hers.
Sir Vesparis gave a quick bow and muttered, “Milady.”
Colt coughed. “I am sorry if we woke you, Opal, but…well…apparently there is a midge at the front door.”
The dainty arches of Opal’s eyebrows rose. She slipped back into her room, and Colt thought maybe he had scared her away. But when she returned a few seconds later, wrapped in a long cloak and carrying a crossbow and quiver, he realized he should have known better. While he had met Opal only a month ago, the woman had already proven to be courageous.
“Well, let’s have a look at the little bugger then,” she said when neither of the Knights moved.
“With all due respect Miss Opal, perhaps you ought to leave this to us,” Sir Vesparis said.
“Look,” Opal began, “I’m not going back to bed knowing that I could wake up to the fort falling down on me. Besides, I haven’t had an excuse to use my crossbow since we got here. I was promised armies of Renegades, but I’ll settle for a midge.”
Knowing it was futile to argue with Opal, whose stubbornness was surpassed only by her skill with the bow, Colt nodded and led the way to the fortress’s main entrance. “Hopefully, it will not come to violence,” he said over his shoulder.
Falling in step beside him, Opal’s only reply was an unnerving chuckle.
As he, Opal, and Sir Vesparis moved through the silent fort, Colt sneaked several glances at his beautiful companion. Her presence did much to boost his confidence and lessen his apprehension. He couldn’t help but smile while remembering the circumstances that had placed her in his life.
Actually, it had been his uncle, Sir Rollace White, who had happened upon Opal by chance. Rollace had accompanied Colt on his trek from Castle Crystalus to Port Errnot. One night, while exploring the city, Rollace came upon a woman being attacked by three thugs. The chivalrous Knight immediately threw himself into the fray.
But Opal hadn’t needed help. According to his uncle, she had nearly fired a bolt into his chest before realizing his intentions. Upon learning Opal had no place to stay in the crowded city, Rollace offered her his room. The next day, before parting ways with Colt, he had introduced Opal to his nephew. Colt had spent the entire day with Opal while his ship prepared to embark.
To his surprise—and delight—Opal asked if she could tag along to Capricon.
Colt was all too happy to oblige. They spent a lot of time together during the voyage across the Strait of Liliae. During one late-night chat, beneath a canopy of a million sparkling stars, Colt had regaled her with tales of his youth, recounting the myriad schemes his brothers had dragged him into.
Opal had revealed an astonishing fact in return: she had no memory of her childhood whatsoever. She had spent the past five years searching for clues about her past, to no avail. She had yet to find the slightest hint about who she was.
Colt had assumed Opal would continue her search once they reached the shores of Capricon—why else had she decided to come to the island?—but now, after a fortnight together, Opal had not once mentioned leaving to pursue her personal quest.
He wasn’t foolish enough to believe Opal remained at Fort Faith for his sake, but she did seem to enjoy his company.
When he, Opal, and Sir Vesparis finally reached the front hall, Colt had almost forgotten about the midge. Knights positioned beside the massive double doors snapped to attention the moment he entered the high-ceilinged room. They all wore grim expressions save the Knight who came forward to meet Colt with a hasty salute.
Like Vesparis, Subcommander Ezekiel Silvercrown was soaked from head to foot. “The midge insists on coming in.”
“Maybe he just wants a place to wait out the storm,” Colt said, staring at the massive, wooden barrier. “We could let him stay the night and send him on his way in the morning. If we act unfriendly to him, we may end up provoking him.”
“The midge is looking for more than shelter,” Zeke Silvercrown said. “He demands to talk to ‘whoever is in charge here.’”
Something sank to the pit of his stomach.
“The midge is here for a reason,” Opal said. “That can’t be good.”
“I told the midge it may take some time to arrange an audience with you in the hopes he might grow bored and wander away. We might still be able to wait him out.”
“Or he’ll get tired of waiting and knock the door down,” Opal argued. “I’m not thrilled with the idea of letting him inside either, but I’d rather deal with a happy midge than an angry one.”
Zeke, Opal, and the other Knights were all looking at him, waiting for their comma
nder to make a decision. Colt considered waking Petton and asking for advice. No, his men would lose respect for him if he always ran to his second-in-command for answers.
It was his duty to meet with anyone seeking an audience.
“Let him in.”
There was at least one audible gasp, but no one questioned the order. Sir Vesparis and another sentry removed the iron bolt and pulled open the double doors. As if on cue, a jagged streak of lightning rent the stormy night, revealing the sodden form of their unwelcome visitor.
Passage II
Crossing the derelict common room in quick strides, Lilac passed Othello and Plake without a word. Worried she might lose her nerve, she didn’t stop until she reached the door to Klye’s room.
She knocked loudly and waited a few seconds. No reply. She tried the knob, but the door was locked.
“Klye, let me in. It’s important.”
Silence.
“I’m not going away,” Lilac called. “Would you rather I kicked the door down?”
She heard the sound of someone stirring on the other side, and a moment later, the door opened a few inches. The room was so dark she could barely make out Klye’s features.
“What do you want?” he demanded hoarsely.
“You and I are going to talk,” she replied. “It can either be a private conversation in your room, or we can chat like this, where everyone can hear.”
Klye glared at her for a few seconds before mumbling something she couldn’t hear and disappearing back into the dark room. He left the door open behind him.
She entered and blinked rapidly to adjust her eyes. She spotted a stub of a candle resting on a three-legged table beside Klye’s bed. The Renegade Leader said nothing as she lit the wick. Standing with arms akimbo near the door, he watched her without expression when she sat at the edge of his unmade bed.
While the inn hadn’t been in the best condition to begin with, Klye’s room was worse for his time there. Wrinkling her nose, she used the tip of one boot to push the remnants of a recent meal from the vicinity.
Rebels and Fools (The Renegade Chronicles Book 1) Page 30
