Renegade: Book Six in the Enhanced Series

by T. C. Edge

  The tension is getting unbearable. Through my Hawk-eyes, I watch as the men surrounding us prepare to fire if ordered. A single word from the giant who leads them, and every single one of us will die right here, right now.

  Watching it all play out, I tighten my own muscles too. I let them begin to bubble and boil, let my Dasher powers prime and prepare to go active. If that first gun goes off, leading to several dozen more, I’ll have no choice but to run from here. Unless these Bear-Skins have a Dasher in their midst, they won’t even know I was gone.

  But that’s a last resort, and with so many men hidden among the trees, I don’t even know if I’d escape the barrage of bullets around us. I look to Rhoth again, and see him simmering, his rage controlled. His fists close tight, and his breathing remains steady. A wrong word now from him could get his entire troop killed.

  So, he’s forced to be pragmatic. And when he speaks again, he bows once more and turns subservient.

  “I wasn’t threatening you, Bjorn. I would never do such a thing here, in your woods. I know they’re yours, I don’t deny it. And I want to make sure they stay yours too. But if the Savants over in the big city win their war, they will spread here and none of us will survive. You know what sort of soldiers they have. If we want to live, we must work together…”

  He’s speaking well, telling the giant what he wants to hear.

  Lying right to his face.

  Rhoth doesn’t want to help these people. He wants them gone, he wants their lands. But if he gives away even a hint of that fact, then it’s game over in a split second.

  “You speak some sense, little man,” booms Bjorn. “But there’s no way I can trust you. You think you’re so smart. Have you forgotten that we have our own war to fight? And you come here, through my woods, with all your hunters. I could consider that an act of war myself…”

  His words begin to rise and deepen, and he appears to loom even larger before us. A snarl that mimics the bear on his head consumes his face. His eyes widen and go wild.

  Then they turn to me.

  “If you want to prove yourself, you must make payment to pass through this way. Give us this girl of yours…and we shall let you go.”

  Rhoth’s eyes turn down to mine. They look at me for a moment before switching back to the beast.

  “I cannot do that,” he says. “Her brother is one of the leaders of the Nameless. He will seek revenge until he dies.”

  “Brother, of a little girl like this? You think that frightens a man like me?” he roars. “I am Bjorn, of the Bear-Skins. No little man frightens me!”

  His men cheer as he announces his name. Rhoth merely shakes his head, and continues calmly.

  “We are not talking about any man here, Bjorn. Zander has gifts that can turn a man’s head inside out with a thought…”

  The mention of my brother’s name has an impact on the giant. He frowns deeply and repeats it.

  “Zander…” comes a harsh whisper. “I know this name, Zander. He hunts these places. He takes what he wants, him as his band of pirates.” His eyes glow with a fire and he looks at me again. “You say this girl is his sister…I will take her for myself, or you will all die here today!”

  Again, his once smooth voice turns wild, growling from inside his cavernous chest. He looks at me in a manner that unsettles me to my core, yet I refuse to yield, to turn away.

  Rhoth has no choice now. He must give me up to save his men.

  He knows it. I know it.

  So it’s down to me to act.

  30

  I stare at the beast, and he stares right back.

  His wild eyes present an opportunity, and I nosedive into his mind, trying to break the surface. I feel myself repelled, the same strange mental blocks imbuing him as does Rhoth, my powers seeming to fail me out here in the thickening mist of the woods.

  I have to think fast, act fast. I cannot be taken captive again, not by these people. I don’t even want to think of the things they’ll do to me.

  The fear in me burgeons, powering up my central core. The threat to my life, now so very real, focuses my mind in a manner that only such situations can. I feel a new surge of strength filling my blood, flowing to the tips of my fingers and the depths of my brain.

  Then, my eyes stop blinking, and they lift again to the man-bear before me. But this time, it’s not into his eyes I glance, but the guard to his left.

  With my powers now surging, I glance into his mind and cut right through the veil. Without hesitation, I bellow the order through his consciousness, and take him under my spell in the flutter of a hummingbird’s wing.

  Withdrawing, I watch as his eyes glaze and his arms raise. And then, stepping right next to his gigantic master, he lifts his pistol to his head.

  Bjorn feels the top of the gun nudge against his dome. He twists his thick neck.

  “Karl, what are you doing?!” he questions.

  Karl, my slave, doesn’t answer. He holds the gun right to his head, his fingers squeezing the trigger half way down. Another jolt and the gun will go off, making a mess of Bjorn’s mighty skull.

  “Karl?!” booms Bjorn. “What are you doi…”

  He doesn’t finish his sentence. I flash my eyes on the other guard to his right. He, too, lifts his gun, ensnaring the beast between two pistols. If one should be shot, or somehow disabled, the other will do the job.

  Bjorn’s sentence cuts off, and his eyes swing back down to mine. It all happens so fast that neither Rhoth, his men, nor any of those surrounding us, are able to react.

  “You!” roars Bjorn. “You’re one of them!” His burning eyes turn to Rhoth. “The girl-cub is a witch. You brought a witch to my woods!”

  “Shut your big mouth,” I shout out. “One more word from that dumb hole of yours and I’ll have them blow your head off.”

  My words leave a silence in the air. Bjorn seems dumbfounded. Rhoth equally so. All eyes, except those of my new slaves, appear to fall on me.

  “Do I have your attention now, Bjorn?” I snarl.

  He stares back. His eyes look like they might pop.

  “Good,” I continue. “Now here’s the deal. You let us all go, right now, and your two men – sorry, my two men – won’t blow your limited brains out. No negotiations. That’s the deal, take it or leave it.”

  Eyes now turn to Bjorn. He simmers with a fury that looks like it might spill. He might just be the sort to die just for pride, unwilling to be spoken to like that, especially by a little girl like me.

  But I know his type. He’s a bully too. And at their core, bullies are afraid.

  And right now, his fear of dying outweighs his anger. At least, that’s what I hope.

  I watch him closely, still ready to move if I must. And slowly, the flames in those eyes are put out, and he forces a smile onto his lips, the type you see on someone trying to save face.

  “You strike a good bargain,” he says, salvaging some measure of composure. “I will accept. But know this, little girl. If you ever return here, I will turn your life into a living nightmare.”

  The threat is empty. I’m never coming back to this place.

  “And you, Rhoth,” he growls, anger still simmering. “You worry about the war in the big city with all the lights…you should pay more attention to your own. You have spat on all the outerlanders today.” He shakes his head. “Now get out of my sight. If war should follow you home, it’s on your shoulders.”

  Rhoth stares at the giant for a time. Then his eyes swing back over to his men.

  “Gather your weapons. We’re moving off,” he says.

  The men do so, creeping carefully forward and taking up their guns. Then they begin moving off back down the track, ever vigilant and wary that some trap lies ahead.

  I move off after them, not wanting to look at Bjorn again, and not removing the order from the two guards’ minds. That’s his problem now. He can deal with it.

  As Rhoth follows, Bjorn’s voice rumbles once more.

  �
�I won’t forget this, Rhoth,” he seethes. “I won’t forget this…”

  Rhoth joins me, and we begin walking together, hurrying from the beast and his tribe. His voice continues to ring out, louder and louder the further we go, roaring to the heavens.

  “I WILL NOT FORGET THIS!”

  He calls over and over until we’re so far away that his words begin to fade into the forest, bellows of rage that seem like they’ll never be contained.

  I turn to Rhoth as we follow behind the Fangs.

  “You think he’s a bit angry?” I grin.

  His sharp yellow teeth slide from behind his lips.

  “Let him roar,” he laughs. “We’ll come back later and finish him off.”

  His words seem to be somewhat prophetic, and perhaps unnecessary. Because suddenly, from the trails behind us, two gunshots ring out over the woods.

  Rhoth and I share a look.

  “Was that…did you order those men to kill him after we’d left?” he asks.

  I shake my head.

  “Then they’re both probably dead,” he says. “Bjorn won’t have a girl like you to clear their minds. Sounds like he’s had them shot…” He turns forward again. “And they’ll be coming after us. We have to hurry…”

  I don’t need to be told twice. With an order called out to his men, we begin rushing faster through the woods, working down trails as quickly as we can, cutting through the mist and murk and moving towards the light.

  It glows now, calling an end to the trees. I can smell the cleaner air beyond, hear the whistling wind blowing down from the mountains. I hurry so fast my Dasher powers begin to flow, and I speed to the front and burst out from beneath the canopy.

  From above, the warming rays of sunlight pour down, and I turn to see the rest of the Fangs rushing through after me, escaping the Cursed Woods and all the evil that lies within.

  I look at them as friends now, allies against those that might seek to suck the life from this world. And turning my eyes, and mind, back south, I think again of the city, gripped in the throes of battle.

  I have to get back.

  Right now.

  31

  We’re only a few miles north of the church now, with Haven a few miles further on from there.

  I consider using my powers to speed me there as quickly as possible, emptying the tank and rushing across the fields and derelict lands with their dotted remnants of a past world.

  A word of warning from Rhoth holds me back.

  “We must still pass through the maze,” he says, referring to the tricky network of little canyons that stand before us. “You must stay with us for your safety.”

  I don’t argue with him, but the urgency of my voice seems to persuade him to speed his troop along. He also has a word of thanks that growls from his lungs.

  “That was impressive what you did back there,” he tells me. “The girl has skills like her brother.”

  “I’m still learning,” I say. “I’m nowhere near as strong as Zander yet.”

  “Ah yes, yet is the important word. You will be, girl, you will be. Thank you. Rhoth will not forget what you did.”

  “Nor will I,” I say. “You stood up for me when you didn’t have to. You might have left me there and got away with your men.”

  His shaven head shakes.

  “No, I could not. I made a promise to your brother that you’d be safe. I want the Nameless to help me defeat my enemies, and not come after me. Your brother would have done so had you been hurt.”

  “He would,” I laugh. “Although…that’s if he’s not dead already…”

  “Dead? Your brother? Oh no, he doesn’t die. And you have a connection, yes? You’d feel it if he was gone.”

  I guess he’s right on both counts. Zander has a knack for staying alive. And his loss would leave some mark in me, I’m sure of that too.

  We enter the labyrinth of sharp rock, overhanging structures appearing overhead as we clamber through tighter spaces than those we took on our journey here. Without the hundreds of refugees to cater to, Rhoth is able to take us on shorter routes through the canyons.

  A vigilance remains among the hunters, one that never seems to cease. I can understand why, given the tight spaces we currently occupy. It would be a decent place for a trap to be laid, the narrow lanes creating bottlenecks that render us fairly vulnerable.

  We manage to pass through unscathed, however, much like we did on the journey here. Rhoth searches the lands and utters to himself: “The Skullers are busy,” in his unique and enigmatic manner.

  I suppose he’s simply referring to the fact that they’re nowhere to be seen, off hunting elsewhere and driven further from the city by the war that engulfs it.

  Clearly, these passes are the sort of place they might enjoy. I have to admit, I’m quite happy to have avoided them, given what I’ve heard.

  Ahead lie the smoother lands that mark the final portion of our journey, open areas fitted with the occasional bog and little thickets, and the old manmade structures and vehicles that have refused to be completely eaten away by the passing of the years.

  With no threats to concern us, we jog as a tightly knit group, the last couple of days serving to legitimise my standing among these folk. I seem to have somehow endeared myself to them, drawing the odd smile onto their faces when we catch eyes.

  West, perhaps, is the exception. Any time I glance at him, he looks immediately away, perhaps afraid of what else I might dig up from the depths of his memory. That stab of guilt attacks me each time it happens, so I decide that it’s best to not look at him either.

  Soon enough, we’re nearing the little old town and its quint church, long since used as the headquarters of the rebel cause. My heart begins to throb faster the closer we get as I grow desperate to learn of everything that’s happened during my short absence.

  I tell Rhoth that I know the way now, that he no longer needs to escort me. He baulks at the suggestion.

  “Oh no, girl, I need to speak with Lady Orlando. I have done my job, now it’s her turn to do hers.”

  Fair enough.

  Gently, rising up slowly on the breeze, the soundtrack of war once more begins to play in the background. It remains intense, something that surprises me. I’d have thought that the battles might have already been won by Cromwell’s forces, that ours would have turned to hide and retreat and wait out the success, or failure, of our terrible plot.

  The noise worries me. Mostly, it’s gunfire that sounds, with the occasional blast as well, but it’s the scale of it that’s the concern.

  Has it spread beyond the northern quarter? Have the other parts of the city been drawn into the conflict?

  The Nameless HQ will have the answers. I gallop on now, faster and faster, my lungs burning as the Fangs rush to keep up. The din from the distant city becomes more pronounced. The flashing of lights, visible through the soft mist, seems to stretch right across the horizon.

  My eyes fall on the church, hidden in the little old town that itself is well concealed here north of the city. I find myself unable to run as a normal girl now, my Dasher powers blooming as I reach the door and bang my fists against its wooden shell.

  I don’t know the secret knock. I use my voice instead, calling out: “It’s me, it’s Brie!”

  I call several times before I hear the scraping of bolts and the undoing of locks. As the Fangs rush towards me, a hundred or so metres away, the door swings open and a guard peers at me.

  His weapon is raised. A couple of other guards, part of the sparse contingent tasked with staying here and protecting Lady Orlando, also point their weapons from the shadows.

  The guard then looks over my shoulder, and sees the onrushing Fangs. They look quite formidable, pouring down the dirty street and dressed as they are.

  His gun swings in their direction.

  “Don’t shoot. They’re the escort!” I shout.

  My voice draws another man forward. Coming from the communications room, I hear Adryan
shouting: “Stand down!” as he runs towards me.

  He scoops me into his arms and our lips crash together.

  “We heard from Pearson,” he says hurriedly, dropping me back to the floor. “He said you’d disappeared with Rhoth and his men…”

  “I had to come back,” I pant. “I had to find out what was happening. Woolf…have you found her? What’s going on in the city? Is Zander OK?”

  Question after question hurry from my lips. As they do, Rhoth and his fearsome force come into view at the front of the church.

  “The war’s spreading,” says Adryan. “Woolf…no, we don’t know where she is…”

  “And Zander? The plot?!”

  He takes my hand and draws me into the church. He leads me straight into the communications room where I’m greeted with a total silence. Lady Orlando appears among the technicians, who stare at random screens, their fingernails bitten raw.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  My voice draws Lady Orlando’s eyes. She moves as quickly as she can towards me.

  “It’s happening, Brie. It’s happening now.”

  My lungs empty.

  One of the technicians leans in a little closer to his workstation, and a crackle of static begins to drift into the silent room.

  Then, broken voices, whispers.

  “Contact…three min….enem…approaching…”

  The voice sounds like Beckett.

  More static.

  “Set timers...withdr….”

  I hear heavy breathing. A few shuffles of movement. A few voices echo down distant tunnels. It sounds like they’re underground somewhere. Under the High Tower.

  “Move!”

  The shuffling of bodies grows louder. Between the fizzing, unpleasant sounds of the electronic static, a whooshing rush of air seems to blow, as if the strike team have activated their Dasher powers and are making their retreat.

  Then, suddenly, it all goes silent as the connection is cut off. Barely breathing, I shut my eyes and try to connect via my own methods, seeking a pathway into Zander’s mind.