Renegade

by Ted Dekker

  “Michal’s the one who told us not to touch the books with blood,” Darsal snapped.

  Johnis faced her with a scowl. “You think he would lead us astray? If we go to him now?”

  “There’s someone else who knows even more about what is beyond what we can see.” The idea came to Darsal only a moment before she spoke.

  “Who?”

  “Someone who may have actually gone where Billos is now.”

  She turned for her horse and had her foot in the stirrup before Johnis caught on.

  “Thomas? That’s rumor.”

  “And this talking won’t amount to bird droppings,” she snapped, swinging into her saddle.

  Johnis hurried forward. “It’s forbidden to tell anyone about the books! You have no idea what harm that will bring! You can’t talk to Thomas about Billos!”

  “No? Watch me.”

  Darsal kicked her mount and galloped into the forest.

  homas of Hunter, or Thomas Hunter, as he would say if asked, was walking the southern path that skirted the lake next to the Thrall, explaining the ins and outs of fundamental forest living to Karas when the commotion on the opposite beach caught his attention. A lead horse chased by two others, tearing up the sand. Village houses crowded the beach behind the scene.

  “Is that a game?” Karas asked, watching the beasts race around the lake’s perimeter.

  “It’s three rascals who need their hides whipped,” Thomas said. “Horses aren’t permitted so near the water.”

  “Isn’t that Darsal being chased?”

  He looked closer and saw that she might be right. “You can see that from here? Never mind, of course you can. I forget how dramatic the change is at first.”

  Johnis had brought Karas, daughter of the Horde high priest, out of the desert with him. Her painful conversion from Scab to Forest Dweller had been her doing, when she’d washed herself in lake water and had watched her skin heal before her eyes.

  Johnis had risked his own life for a Scab, and in so doing delivered much more to the forests than he had anticipated. The ten-year-old girl was a gold mine of information on the Horde’s political and religious machinery, and Thomas intended to hear it all.

  But at the moment his mind was on her humanity, her wit, her charm, not simply her use to them. She speaks with the intelligence of a girl much older than ten, he thought.

  Before being cleansed by the lake water, her skin had been gray and cracked, her hair matted and dark, her eyes nearly white.

  Now she looked across the lake with blue eyes that peered through soft bangs lifting on angel’s breath. Her skin was newborn, flawless.

  “So you know her?” Karas asked in a sweet voice.

  “Who?”

  “The one in trouble. Darsal.”

  He glanced up and saw that the riders behind—Johnis and Silvie, if he wasn’t mistaken—were catching Darsal. Karas was right; there was trouble.

  “She’s from the Southern Forest. A victim of difficult circumstance. Why do you ask?”

  The girl shrugged. “I think she’s a pretty woman.”

  “No shortage of those. You’ve seen Rachelle, my wife. There’s a looker.”

  “My mother, Grace, was pretty.”

  “Oh? Killed by the high priest …” He stopped and chided himself for mentioning her mother’s death so casually. “I’m sorry—”

  “Don’t be.” Karas kept her eyes fixed on the riders, who were now rounding the lake. “We’ve all faced a lot of death.”

  True indeed. “Darsal reminds you of your mother?”

  “She could be her.”

  “Darsal, your mother? Then she would have had you when she was seven years old, because Darsal’s only seventeen.”

  “Of course.”

  Thomas squatted next to the girl—this angel who’d come to them from the Horde.

  Johnis was right; she was a gift from Elyon. Though Thomas wasn’t ready to extend the same sentiment to the Horde warriors who swung mallets at his men’s heads.

  “John is s father, Ramos, insists that you should live with him, but my wife and I—”

  “Your wife’s a very intelligent woman,” Karas said.

  “Yes. Yes, she is. And she joins me in extending an invitation for you to live with us if you’d like.”

  Karas shifted her eyes and stared into his. “We’ll see. But you are very kind, Commander.”

  Thomas playfully brushed her chin with his forefinger. “Where’d you get such a bright mind?”

  “My father isn’t exactly an idiot. He’s deceived.”

  The horses pounded closer. Clearly, this was no casual social call. Thomas stood and put his hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Do you mind leaving me alone with this trouble, as you put it? You’ll find Ciphus in the Thrall.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  He looked down at her. “No?”

  “I’d rather see what this trouble is all about.”

  “I’m sure you would. And one day, when I make you a lieutenant, I’ll let you settle matters like this.” He couldn’t help a gentle grin. “Though what could possibly be the problem now is beyond me. Maybe I should just let you deal with them.”

  “Okay.” Karas made no move to leave.

  Darsal raced in, pulled her horse to a rearing stop, slid from her saddle, and dropped to one knee. “Requesting an audience, sir!”

  Her long, dark hair was pulled back and tied, baring the scar on her left cheek. If anything, the scar accentuated her cheeks firm lines and her soft lips. A fine woman, a fierce warrior, a passionate heart.

  Thomas squeezed Karas’s shoulder. “Leave us,” he said.

  She hesitated only a moment before turning and jogging down the beach toward the Thrall.

  Johnis and Silvie jumped to the ground and hurried forward. But they seemed at a loss for words. This was Darsal’s show.

  “What is it this time?” Thomas demanded.

  “We must lead an expedition into the desert immediately, sir,” Darsal said, head still bowed. She looked up at Thomas. “Billos has gone missing, and we have reason to believe that he’s—”

  “What she means to say,” Johnis interrupted, “is that we can’t find Billos. She’s in love with him. You understand how that goes. Her mind is totally—”

  “Silence!” Thomas had chosen the four from a thousand fighters, and despite their rather unique accomplishments in these last weeks, they were erratic, untamed, impulsive, and in general a very high-maintenance lot. If not for the half-circle birthmark on Johnis’s neck, which confirmed that Elyon had chosen the boy, Thomas thought he might reconsider his choice.

  “What do you mean, Billos is lost? You’ve all just been found, for the love of Elyon!”

  “Billos is a hothead,” Johnis said. “It seems he’s … well, we don’t know that he’s actually missing yet, do we?”

  “No, we really don’t,” Silvie said, eyes holding Thomas’s.

  Darsal stood to her feet, staring, mind clearly spinning. Quiet for the moment.

  “Well?” Thomas demanded. “Is Billos missing or isn’t he?”

  “He’s missing all right,” Darsal said.

  “And is it true that you are in love with him?”

  She breathed deeply through her nose. “Yes. So I would know if he’s missing.”

  “How so?”

  “Billos and I are … very close.”

  “What makes you think he’s not just sleeping under some wood pile?”

  Darsal hesitated. “Sir, is it true that you’ve been to a place beyond this world?”

  Thomas felt his pulse surge. A dozen distant memories flooded his mind. It had been thirteen years since he’d dreamed of Earth, thanks to the Rhambutan fruit that kept him from having any dreams when he slept.

  “Who told you this?”

  “It’s well-known.”

  Thomas dismissed them with a hand and turned away. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”

  “You deny it the
n?”

  “What does this have to do with Billos?”

  “Billos—” Darsal started, but again Johnis interrupted.

  “Billos was talking about your … dreams, whatever they were, before he went missing. Darsal seems to have linked the two. Please, we are wasting his time with this, Darsal.”

  “And why are you trying to shut her up?” Thomas asked.

  “Am I?” Johnis shot Darsal a hard glance. “I wouldn’t want to do that.”

  “You’re obviously dancing around something that has you all bothered,” Thomas said. “Less than a day has passed since you came out of the desert, nearly dead, and already you’re running around like frantic little rodents, sniffing for trouble. Truth be told, I’m in no mood to play games at the moment. So … have no fear, Johnis, I won’t push for the moment. But I will know everything; you do realize that.”

  Silvie looked at Johnis, who stood six inches taller than her and was broader across the shoulders. His otherwise boyish features made him appear only slightly less feminine than she. Johnis’s weapon was his brain, not his brawn. Silvie, despite her petite frame and delicate features, was perhaps more brawny than he. Certainly the better fighter.

  There is love between these two, Thomas thought. He should discourage two sixteen-year-old squad leaders from pursuing their love for each other, but something about Silvie and Johnis’s attraction felt right to him.

  Without offering any explanation, Thomas stripped off his shirt, loosed his boots, dropped his sword, and strode to the lake’s edge. He dove into the cool water and let Elyon’s healing power refresh his skin. “Bathe once a day to cleanse yourself of the disease,” Elyon had told them. “Until I come to save you from evil in one fell swoop, as prophesied.” Thomas had heard the words himself.

  He rose from the lake, threw his head back, and filled his lungs with fresh air. He turned and drilled the three fighters on the beach with a stare.

  “It wasn’t long ago that I could breathe Elyon’s water. Do you believe that?”

  He walked out of the lake without bothering to wipe the water from his skin. “Do you?”

  Johnis answered, “Yes.”

  Thomas snatched up his shirt. “And do you believe the rest of it? That the Roush once flew overhead, protecting us from the evil Shataiki? That Elyon lived among his own? That there was no disease?”

  Silvie glanced up at the treetops to their left, then gave Thomas a look that seemed to ask if he’d seen it. What? Thomas had no clue, because the trees were empty.

  “Of course, we believe,” she said.

  “That there are Books of History that contain a perfect record of all that has happened?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you’re wiser than some who’ve lost faith in what they can’t see.”

  “How does this lead us to Billos?” Darsal demanded.

  “You asked if it was true that I’ve been to a different reality,” Thomas said. “If you didn’t believe in what can’t be seen, I wouldn’t want to waste my time answering. But since you do believe—and I’m assuming that includes you, Darsal—you’ll find it easier to accept the fact that I have been to a place beyond this world, as you put it.”

  They stared at him, waiting for more explanation.

  “In fact, there are millions of people who would swear to you that I’m asleep in a hotel in Bangkok at this very moment. That I live in the histories, two thousand years ago. They could show you photographs of me in bed, where I’ve been sleeping for the last thirteen years.”

  “Thirteen years?” Darsal said. “You look quite awake to me.”

  “I’ve only slept part of one night in that reality, dreaming of the last thirteen years here. They would tell you that you yourselves are just a dream.”

  He shrugged into his shirt. “You, on the other hand, might tell me that my dreams of Bangkok are just that, dreams I had while asleep here. Now ask me, which reality is real?”

  “Which is real?” Johnis asked.

  “Both,” Thomas said. “The fact that none of us can see Bangkok doesn’t mean it’s not real any more than the fact that we can’t see fuzzy white Roush in those trees means they aren’t there.”

  Darsal’s face lightened a shade. “So, you’re saying that it’s possible for someone to step beyond this world? That Billos could easily have vanished into this dream world of yours?”

  “What have you been drinking? I’m sure you’ll find Billos hiding behind a wood pile, sleeping off his ride through the desert.” But Thomas could tell that none of them believed it.

  “Please, you’re not suggesting that Billos actually vanished into thin air,” Thomas continued.

  “No,” Johnis said. “It was you who suggested it.”

  “I was talking about me, and then only about dreams.”

  “Either way, it sounds as preposterous as Billos vanishing. Not that he has, mind you.”

  “It does,” Thomas said. “But my dreams were true; I can assure you of that. Do you know what they call Elyon in that reality?”

  “Billos?” Darsal suggested.

  Thomas ignored her. “God.”

  “So you’re saying you won’t help us,” Darsal said. She was consumed with the notion that Billos had vanished.

  And what if he has? Thomas thought. What if Billos has somehow crossed the breach between worlds? Impossible, of course. Rachelle would have a fit if she knew his thoughts.

  “Absolutely not. I should put you in the brink for pushing such a fool’s errand. Not even an idiot would suggest that I risk warriors to find a fighter who’s been lost less than an hour. None of you are idiots, which leads me to believe you’re hiding something from me.”

  All three looked at him with unwavering eyes, like deer before the flight.

  “Now your silence confirms it,” he snapped. “I’m your commander; tell me what’s going on.”

  “It’s nothing,” Darsal said, pulling her eyes away.

  “And you’re lying,” Thomas said.

  “What she means is that it’s nothing to anyone but us,” Johnis said. “A very private, personal thing. We’ve taken a vow not to whisper a word about it to anyone, but you have my assurance that we will deal with it.”

  Interesting. They were hiding more than they could say without breaking their word. That Johnis had confessed this much rather than attempt to cover up further was at least noble.

  All of this confirmed Thomas’s suspicion that the four were up to something beyond him, beyond all of them. Why Elyon had chosen these four scrappers was still a mystery to him, but then again, why he himself had been transported from the streets of Denver to this land was a mystery as well. He, a street fighter who’d grown up in Malaysia, elevated into such a position between worlds.

  He would treat them as he would any new leaders, but there was more at work here. In time he would know it all, assuming he lived until that time.

  “I trust you to keep your loyalties straight,” he said.

  “Of course.” Johnis and Silvie dipped their heads. Darsal stared at him, still lost in her own thoughts.

  “Yes?” he demanded of her.

  “What? Yes … yes, of course.”

  “Then take this very private, personal thing away from me. And for the sake of Elyon, prove yourselves worthy of the faith I’ve placed in each of you.”

  Johnis swung into his saddle. “We will, sir. Rename us the Three Worthy Ones if you wish. Nothing will—”

  “Three? There are four of you.”

  “Of course, it’s just that there are only three here, now. Four. The Four Worthy Ones.”

  Thomas didn’t like the far-off look in Darsal’s eyes, but he didn’t want to push the matter further.

  “A bit juvenile, don’t you think, Johnis? Instead I’ll give you a charge. I want the three of you to stay together until you find Billos. Consider yourselves each other’s prisoners. Don’t leave the village, and don’t let the other two out of your sight. Am I clear?”


  “Yes, sir,” Johnis replied. Silvie mounted. “Yes, sir.”

  Darsal was in her saddle, turning without responding, “Darsal?”

  “Hmm? Yes, yes. Of course.”

  he first thing Billos felt was the warmth. A heat that spread from his fingertips as they entered the hole in the air, up his arm as it passed the barrier. The burning sensation intensified as his face pressed into the translucent film of power.

  It occurred to him that this hole might be nothing more than the mouth of death itself. That he could and should pull back. But the sound of hooves, thundering into the clearing behind him, pushed those thoughts from his mind.

  He thrust his head through, and his body effortlessly followed. He was in.

  Darkness. A surge of power ripped through his body, and for a moment all he could see were the stars that ignited behind his eyes.

  The heat swelled. Pain sliced through his chest, his head, his nose. So intense now that he thought blood might be streaming from his eyes and ears.

  Billos cried out and threw his hands to his head. Felt his mouth spread in a scream. But the only sound he could hear was a chuckle that echoed around him in the darkness.

  He’d found death.

  The stars behind his eyes began to move toward him. Past him. As if he were moving through them.

  Without warning the stars became a blinding explosion of light that forced him to gasp.

  This is it. This is it!

  But then the light vanished, and Billos found himself standing in a room.

  A white room.

  A room filled with both terror and wonder at once.

  ow what?” Silvie asked, pacing the hand-hewn boards that had been strapped together to form the floor of Johnis’s house. Johnis stood at the shuttered window, staring out with his hands on his hips, lost in thought.

  Darsal sat on a stool by the table, sweating. It wasn’t a hot day, but her face felt flush, and her hands were tingling. Sitting here after an hour of pointless discussion … she might as well be in shackles, locked in a cell.

  The floorboards creaked loudly each time Silvie placed her weight on them. Evidently Johnis’s father, Ramos of Middle, didn’t have the time to fix his own house,