Williams, D M - Renegade Chronicles [Collection 1-3]

by David Michael Williams

  Arthur saw the two Renegade Leaders’ gazes meet for an instant, and he felt as though he and everyone else were intruding.

  “It’s probably for the best that we travel at night anyway,” Scout said. “Hey, are the pirates coming with us to Fort Faith?”

  Klye turned to Pistol and Crooker. “You are free to go wherever you wish, as far as I’m concerned, but you both would be a welcome addition to my band, if you want to come along.”

  Arthur saw Horcalus’s face sour.

  Klye continued, “But if you would rather stay in Port Town—”

  “There’s nothin’ for us here, except a bounty on our heads,” Pistol said, and Crooker nodded in agreement. “No hard feelings, Miss Beryl, but I think Crook’ and I’d be better off puttin’ some distance between us and Port Town.”

  “Agreed,” Leslie said softly. “I apologize—”

  “Not your fault,” Pistol interrupted, and Leslie didn’t press the issue. To Klye, Pistol added, “I don’t know what you’re plannin’ to do at a fort, but Crook’ and I’ll come along. You know the island better than us.”

  “Well, Scout knows it, anyway,” Klye said. “Welcome to my band, gentlemen.”

  Ragellan stepped forward and bowed before Leslie. “Many thanks for your kindness, milady. If only there were some way we could repay you and your Renegades.”

  “Take Fort Faith, and we’ll call it even,” she said with a smile.

  Klye cleared his throat. “Ragellan, get everyone ready to move out. Arthur has the supplies. I’ll be back in a moment. Leslie and I have something to discuss, Renegade Leader to Renegade Leader.”

  “Bye, Les,” Scout called, waving. “I’ll hurry back as soon as I can.”

  “So long,” Leslie replied, giving the hooded Renegade a quick hug. “Take care.”

  “Don’t hurry on our account,” Plake called suggestively as Klye and Leslie walked into the trees.

  * * *

  Harrod Brass was led to the mayor’s office by a servant whose curt replies and stony countenance spoke volumes about the atmosphere within the mansion.

  The Captain of the Three Guards was not in the best of moods himself. Overzealous soldiers and panicking civilians had made the task of regaining order in the Square impossible, and not a single rebel had been taken alive during the battle. With a dozen guardsmen dead and twice as many of the city’s citizens slain—some Renegades, some not—Brass had very little to smile about.

  When Brass reached the door to the mayor’s office, he found it open, revealing a disastrous scene. Had the mayor not been sitting so calmly behind his desk, Brass might have drawn his sword.

  “Mayor Beryl, what happened? Was your office attacked?” he asked, taking in all the damage with quick glances.

  “Never mind my office,” Crofton Beryl told him, keeping his voice low and even. “I called you here to discuss matters of greater importance.”

  As much as he wished he could avoid delivering the bad news to Crofton Beryl, neither did Brass wish to linger in the mayor’s presence. “Not a single suspect was taken alive, Mayor Beryl. Your daught—er…the Renegade Leader escaped—”

  “Never mind my daughter,” Crofton interrupted, his voice rising only slightly at the last word. “Leslie will be dealt with soon enough. She will beg for death by the time I am through with her.”

  Captain Brass’s skin prickled. He knew full well that most of Port Town’s citizens considered him a cruel man and rightfully feared his wrath, but next to the mayor, Brass felt like a saint. The matter-of-fact tone in which the mayor spoke of torturing his daughter made him want to flee the room and not stop running until he reached the nearest tavern.

  “I will need a description of the men who freed the pirate king from his cell,” the mayor told him in the same unwavering voice. “They were certainly after Chester Ragellan.”

  “Yes, sir,” Brass said. “I have spoken with the soldiers from the prison, and a few of the guards claim that one of the rescuers was also seen at the Battle of Oars and Omens. It could be the other rogue knight.”

  Crofton did not reply.

  Brass cleared his throat. “I have sent patrols of city guards and pier guards out into the various districts, and our two coastal ships are watching the docks. The rogue knights will not be able to hide from us.”

  “You needn’t bother,” Crofton said. “The knights have already left Port Town.”

  “What? How do you know that?”

  Now the mayor’s voice lost some of its aloofness. “Never mind how I know. You ask too many questions, Captain. You should be more concerned with answering mine.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Send messengers forth tonight to spread the news of the rogue knights’ escape to the nearby towns. The knights are to be brought to me. I will personally arrange their transport to Continae.”

  “Yes, sir. The announcement will be heard from Fort Honor to the Port of Balancia, and as far to the east as a horse may run.”

  Apparently satisfied, the mayor said, “You are dismissed, Captain. I look forward to hearing your full report in the morning.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Harrod Brass left the office as quickly as he could. Though he had much work ahead of him that night, the Captain decided it could wait until after a stiff drink or two.

  * * *

  They had not walked too far into the orchard when Klye stopped. Leslie turned to find his intense blue eyes staring at her. Her heartbeat quickened, and she swallowed despite the sudden dryness in her mouth. She was sorry to see him leave, though she didn’t know how to tell him. Absently, she ran a finger along the fine silver chain around her neck.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about the secret passage in the prison?” Klye demanded.

  Expecting a kiss, not an inquisition, Leslie couldn’t make sense of his words at first.

  “What? There is no secret passage that I know of.” Her tone was defensive, biting, but she didn’t care. “What in the gods’ names are you talking about, Klye?”

  The Renegade Leader watched her for a few more seconds, as though he were judging the veracity of her claim. Then he sighed, and when he finally spoke, his tone was no longer accusing. In fact, it was void of all emotion.

  “Elezar came to us when we were in the prison, rescuing Pistol. We were trapped, with a wall of stone on one side and a slew of guards on the other. But then, suddenly, there was a pathway filled with light, and the priest led us out onto the street behind the prison.”

  Once Klye was finished explaining, he no longer looked her in the eye, and Leslie hoped he was feeling guilty for accusing her of imaginary crimes.

  “Look,” she began. “I don’t know how Elezar managed to save you. You’re the man who doesn’t believe in the gods. I’m sure you’ll think up a rational explanation for it on the road to Fort Faith.”

  Klye sighed and looked up from the ground. “Les, I’m sorry. I thought you had withheld information about the passageway because you mistrusted me or because you wanted us to get caught.”

  “And by jumping to that conclusion, it was you who mistrusted me.”

  They stood there without speaking then, listening to the chorus of chirping crickets drifting up from the tall grass among the trees. The look Klye was giving her made it difficult to stay angry with him. In spite of herself, she took a step closer to him and smiled mischievously.

  Well, she thought, at least he had apologized.

  Klye opened his mouth—to make more excuses, she suspected—but no words ever made it past his lips, for Leslie’s lips were there now, making all further points moot. The kiss lasted less than a minute, far too quick for Leslie’s liking, but there had been an undeniable feeling of…something…in that kiss. She wondered if he had felt it too.

  They separated, and she dared not look into his eyes again, lest she do something stupid like go running off with the foolhardy man on his crazy crusade. Without another word between them, Leslie turned and walked
back toward the city.

  She had a lot to consider, for the Renegade movement in Port Town had begun in earnest that day. Best to put the rival Renegade Leader out of her mind and concentrate on her own future.

  Yet as she made her way through the rows of trees, she couldn’t help but wonder if she would ever see Klye Tristan again.

  * * *

  Watching Leslie Beryl leave, Klye found he wasn’t as eager to leave Port Town as he had been upon arrival. Despite the ambush in the sewers and the jailbreak that had nearly ended in disaster, he knew he’d always look back fondly on his time in Port Town.

  As he rejoined his men, he had to remind himself to stop smiling. Ragellan and Horcalus were talking together, as were the two pirates. The others were waiting in silence, casting edgewise glances at their new traveling companions.

  Klye had picked up four new members for his band in Port Town. The ferocious and battle-hardened pirates would certainly come in handy should trouble follow them, and if Scout was half as good a guide as he claimed, the hooded Renegade would make a most welcome addition to the team.

  Arthur, on the other hand…well…maybe the boy could cook.

  “We leave immediately,” he announced. “Scout, take to fore. And keep us as far from the road as possible.”

  With a mock salute, Scout jumped off the old railing where he had been sitting and started walking in an easterly direction.

  “What about dinner?” Plake asked, coming up on Klye’s right. “We haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

  Ragellan came up on the rancher’s other side and said, “If we worry about that now, you’ll soon find prison food to be your only fare, and believe me, it’s better to go hungry.”

  “It can’t be worse than nothing at all,” Plake muttered. “If it were up to you, Klye, we’d never eat. We’ll all collapse from starvation before we get anywhere near Fort Faith.”

  “Shut up, Plake.” Klye quickened his pace so the rancher wouldn’t see him grin.

  If nothing else, it was bound to be an interesting journey.

  PART 2

  Passage I

  Commander Ralz did his best to avoid the eyes of the man seated beside him. He studied the small carvings etched into the wood and the polished stone of the chamber walls. He counted the empty chairs that encircled the long, ovular table at which they sat and smoothed out the imaginary wrinkles in his tunic.

  All the while, Gerard Ralz was certain that he was under the scrutiny of his companion.

  When the room’s only door opened and, after a moment, closed again, seemingly of its own volition, he held his breath. A few seconds later, a black-clad figure appeared, as though bleeding from the air itself.

  The dark-robed newcomer lowered a cavernous cowl, revealing the visage of a woman. Long locks of blond hair spilled down her neck and shoulders. The skin of her hands and face was fair, although that could have been the result of its juxtaposition to the black fabric that concealed the rest of her body. Her eyes were blue, and while Commander Ralz saw no wrinkles around them or her mouth, he suspected that had more to do with magic than youth.

  The Knight rose to his feet and performed a stiff bow.

  “Welcome, milady. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

  He gestured for her to take any one of the chairs across from him and his silent companion, but she didn’t move. Instead, she crossed her arms and scoffed.

  “Welcome?” Her voice was low and sardonic. “I have never been welcome in any place housing Knights of Superius, including this very fort. Or perhaps I somehow missed the banquet being held in my honor?”

  Ralz coughed and affected a polite smile. “My apology for your trouble, milady, but it was necessary for you to arrive unseen. I admit, not many Knights would appreciate your company…not like I do.”

  “Because I am a wizardess?” she asked coyly. “Or because I am an assassin?”

  She gave a breathy laugh as she joined them at the table. Keeping her hands on her lap, she alternated her stare between Ralz and the other man.

  “Which brings us to why I was summoned to begin with,” she continued. “Do you need me to dispense with another troublesome Renegade in the area? While I would be happy to do your dirty work on a regular basis, Commander, I fear you cannot afford it.”

  Ralz had paid her quite a sum for her previous service, desperate to be rid of a local Renegade demagogue. He had hoped to never deal with another spell-caster so long as he lived, but he dared not defy his orders.

  Like most Superian Knights—and the majority of civilized folk—Gerard Ralz had a strong distaste for magic, and this wizardess practiced the blackest of black magic, using her powerful spells to murder for profit. The last time he had had need of her, he had gone to great lengths to keep their dealings a secret.

  And yet, here she was, meeting with him again in one of Fort Splendor’s seldom-used council rooms. He felt cold perspiration welling up in his armpits and dripping down his back. The mere thought of getting caught in her company made him queasy.

  “I think we will be able to come to an agreement, madam,” said the other man.

  Commander Ralz was relieved to hear his companion speak. Let him do all the talking, thought Ralz. He’s the reason that she is here.

  The wizardess regarded the other man with an upraised eyebrow. “Who is your friend, Commander? He looks familiar, but I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  “My name is not important. Like you, madam, I have reasons to maintain anonymity.”

  Ralz watched the other man smile coldly. Although he spoke with confidence and authority, he was not yet twenty, far younger than both the wizardess and Ralz himself. He wore his long hair tied back in the manner of Superian nobility, but his plain cloak and trousers were those of an ordinary peasant. No jewelry adorned him—unlike Ralz, who wore both the ring of his family name and one denoting his rank as the Commander of Fort Splendor.

  The woman smiled back. “Very well. I will respect your secrets. I go by the name Dark Lily. But tell me, Stranger, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “Stranger,” laughed the young man. “Now there’s a suitable alias. Well met, Dark Lily. You have been invited here tonight in the hopes that you may help us in a very important task. Tell me, have you heard of Chester Ragellan?”

  “No. Should I know him?”

  The Stranger waved a hand dismissively. “It’s of little consequence. Sir Ragellan was the commander of Fort Splendor before our friend, Sir Ralz, took over the position. Ragellan and another Knight, Dominic Horcalus, were found secretly funding the Renegade movement. They were arrested and taken to the Citadel Dungeon to serve out a life sentence. However, they were rescued soon after by the rebels.

  “We have learned that Ragellan and Horcalus have fled Continae altogether. They were last seen in Port Town, a coastal town in western Capricon.”

  “Capricon? As in the island?” Dark Lily asked. “That is quite a trip, Stranger. Now I am certain you can’t afford my skills…presuming, of course, your wish is for me to find and kill your disgraced knights.”

  Having witnessed the temper of the Stranger—as Dark Lily had dubbed him—Commander Ralz flinched. If the stupid witch only knew with whom she was dealing, she would have stayed her impertinent tongue. When the Stranger got to his feet, Ralz was certain he was on the verge of assaulting the assassin with threats—or worse.

  Wishing to be anywhere but in the presence of the wizardess and the Stranger, he sank a little lower in his chair.

  But to Ralz’s immense relief, the Stranger instead walked over to a small chest that lay on the floor by one of the empty chairs. He returned to his chair but remained standing, his hands on the lid of the wooden chest.

  “The Knights of Superius are not in the habit of hiring assassins to deal with traitors, but all of Continae is in a precarious position concerning the Renegades. If we do too much, we will only fan the flames of their rebellion. If we do nothing at all, the Renegades will
gradually grow more and more audacious. That is why we must seek outside assistance.”

  “Meting out justice, regaining honor…call it what you will, Stranger, but murder is murder,” Dark Lily replied dryly. “I don’t really care why you want these two men dead. I am one of the best headhunters in the world. My services do not come cheaply. Even if that box you hold is filled to the brim with silver, it wouldn’t enough to send me to that gods-forsaken province. You could find a lesser cutthroat to do the job for far less.”

  Ralz nearly fell off of his chair when the Stranger responded with a mild laugh. “Well said, Miss Lily. But I would never think of offering you anything less than that which you are worth.”

  He opened the chest and removed an old book that smelled as musty as the fort’s dungeon. Its pages were yellowed with age, and its faded, grayish leather was cracked in many places. Symbols Ralz could not decipher had been sketched onto the spine of the book.

  The Stranger’s smile grew as Dark Lily’s eyes widened. The wizardess leaned forward, her hands flat on the table, fingers spread, unconsciously reaching for the tome.

  “Is that…is that what I think it is?” she whispered.

  “I know very little of magic, madam,” the Stranger replied, “but I can assure you this is one of the few surviving spell books penned by Braiseph Harrow. He was a black-robe like yourself, if I’m not mistaken.”

  Her eyes fixed on the tome, Dark Lily replied, “Braiseph Harrow was one of the greatest archmages who ever lived, and that truly is one of his spell books. I can feel the power emanating from it…”

  Gerard Ralz could feel nothing of the kind, but goosebumps appeared on his arms nevertheless. Where had the Stranger acquired the evil tome? Silently, he prayed to the gods to bring an end to this foul meeting. He wanted nothing more than to get to bed and forget all of this sorry business with rogue knights, assassins, and spell books.