Renegade

by Ted Dekker

  After what felt like a very long time, he stood and approached the weapon again, pushed a few more buttons to no avail, and decided to try something new. Moving with more deliberation now, he pushed and prodded and pulled various parts of the contraption. The seats. The ropes that ran along the sides of the seats into mesh gloves. The helmets.

  Nothing happened.

  He climbed into one of the seats and stuck his head into the helmet. The stench of burning rubber trees, which he’d now grown accustomed to, filled his nostrils, strong again. The helmet did nothing but darken his world.

  Claustrophobia began to set in. He yanked the helmet off and sat in silence. It was useless. Nothing he tried worked. Resigned to the impossibility of his predicament, Billos leaned back and closed his eyes.

  Darsal would be worried. Johnis would be furious. Silvie would be plotting his death. He’d betrayed them all, but most of all he’d betrayed Darsal.

  Unless he returned with the weapon. Wasn’t that justification enough to ignore Johnis’s warning never to touch the books with blood?

  Billos opened his eyes and stared up at the pale light. What if this really was a spider and it was playing dead, waiting for him to starve to death before it consumed him like most spiders do?

  He spun out of the chair, chided himself for the absurd thought, and went back to work on the buggy. But no matter what he did, no matter what he prodded or poked or pulled, nothing happened. He was still trapped in the white room with an unresponsive weapon that provided no escape.

  And now he was growing thirsty. Soon the disease would set in and crack his skin. Give him a sword and a slew of Scabs to face and he could fight to the bitter end. But in this prison he was powerless,

  Billos tried to push back the panic that crowded his mind. This was it? He’d been warned, and now he was going to face the consequences.

  Now motivated as much by fear as curiosity, Billos threw himself into the task of making the weapon work. For many minutes that never seemed to end, he worked feverishly, covering every square inch of the contraption, pushing every button, pulling every rope.

  Nothing,

  He finally retreated to the corner and dropped to his rump, breathing heavy with desperation.

  “Elyon,” he muttered. “Please, Elyon, I swear, I swear … forgive me. Deliver me from this monster that has swallowed me whole, and I’ll do anything. I’ll follow Johnis on this blasted mission”—he rephrased—“on this mission of yours.”

  Nothing happened. Naturally. Billos was now beyond himself.

  “I swear, I swear.” Then louder. “Help me.” Then in a cry of rage. “Help me, for the sake of Elyon, help me!”

  hat do you mean ‘disappeared’?” Thomas demanded. “I give you one order, to keep an eye on one person, not even an enemy at that, and you can’t follow? Can you do nothing by the book?”

  Johnis and Silvie had called Darsal’s name after a long stretch of silence, then barged into the bathroom and found it vacant. It only took them a minute to discover that her horse was gone too.

  Two hours of frantic searching through the forest had yielded nothing. When they’d finally found Gabil, the Roush who thought of himself as a great martial artist, he was no help. “Hunter would know,” Gabil had said. He’d find the Roush named Hunter. And in the meantime, they’d better get their act together. Michal wasn’t going to like this, not one bit.

  Now the sun was nearly gone, and they had no clue where Darsal had gone.

  “We’re sorry, sir. And if Darsal were the enemy, our task would have been a simple one. She’s far craftier than any Scab.”

  “Find her!” Thomas thundered.

  “She took her horse, sir,” Silvie said. “We have no idea which direction she headed.”

  “And don’t tell me that Billos is still missing.”

  Johnis nodded. “Yes, he is.”

  Thomas threw out his arms and paced, eyeing them. He was showing his hard side because it was demanded—Johnis would do no different.

  “I chose you four because you’re all the same in ways not even you knew. Each of you share the character traits I find useful in battle leaders. I knew that you would butt heads at every turn—I told my wife as much when you went missing the first time. But this …” He shook his head. “I didn’t know I was promoting four fighters who could find trouble as easily as a blind man finds the wall!”

  “I understand, sir.”

  “Do you?”

  “I think so. It must be maddening,” Johnis said.

  “Really? You read me like a book, little poet. My advice is to go home and wait. There’s love between Darsal and Billos. Had I known how deep their bond went …”

  Thomas turned away and took a deep breath. “They’ve probably run off to have some time alone from you two. Maybe you should consider doing the same.”

  “No.”

  Johnis’s retort hung in the room awkwardly.

  Johnis glanced at Silvie. “I mean ‘no, I don’t think Billos ran off for love,’ not ‘no, Silvie and I shouldn’t consider doing that.”’

  Still awkward, he thought, and now his face was feeling flush. “Not that we should run off together either, I just—”

  “Save it, young man,” Thomas said. “It was only a passing comment to set you at ease. I can see I failed. Though it’s not a terrible idea.”

  Silvie seemed as flustered as Johnis was. They’d always heard that Thomas of Hunter was a romantic in his own way, a true believer in the Great Romance and completely faithful to Elyon, whom all humans, even the Horde, had once loved. But his frank advice had caught them flat-footed.

  A knock sounded on Thomas’s door. “Come,” Thomas said.

  Ramos of Middle, Johnis’s father, stepped in with his younger sister, Kiella. “Well, we have the whole party here,” Ramos said, grinning,

  “They were just leaving,” Thomas said.

  “Have any of you seen Karas?” Kiella asked. “I can’t find her anywhere.”

  Thomas looked at Johnis, then his father, incredulous. “Does losing people run in your family, Ramos?” “Not that I know, sir.”

  “Find them! And do it without leaving the city. Dismissed.”

  he Black Forest was two days northwest, according to Hunter. A week if you went straight north and ran into the Horde who were guarding the route to the Northern Forest.

  “A week?”

  “If you’re lucky,” the Roush replied. “They’ll capture you the first day, and it’ll take you another six to escape, if you survive. Northwest, girl, go northwest and avoid the Horde.”

  “What if they’ve shifted west?”

  “Then we’re in for a fight.”

  The little girl’s huge horse plodded over the soft desert sand to the right and just behind Darsal, who led them into the night with no intention of stopping until they reached the Black Forest. She would turn the two-day journey into one. It wouldn’t rake Johnis long to figure out where they were going and follow. She had to get to the book and use it without interference from him!

  But what if there is no book? What if there is a book, but you don’t find it? What if there is a book and you find it, but you’re killed for it, along with Karas?

  Darsal pushed the thoughts away. Great missions require great risk. She urged her mount to quicken its pace.

  They traveled in silence into the early morning hours, heading for a star that Hunter had pointed out. She thought that the Roush and Karas had run out of things to say or were sulking in silence, but a glance back told her differently.

  Karas was slumped over the horses neck, with one arm draped over each side. She was small enough to lie securely. Here Darsal had been thinking that she’d effectively silenced the girl with her imposing air of authority, when all the while Karas was snoring through sweet dreams!

  Darsal leaned forward and peered over Hunter’s furry head. The Roush’s eyes were closed. He was leaning back on Darsal, sleeping soundly.

  None of
this sat well with Darsal. If she was required to endure tomorrow’s hot sun without the benefit of sound sleep, so should they Her mind drifted back to the many contests Billos had talked her into after he’d rescued her from certain death at her uncle’s hand when she was eight years old.

  Billos was always up for a contest. Who could stay awake the longest? Who could eat the most fire ants before their throats swelled shut? Who would be the first to pull their head from the water? Who could hang from a rope tied to a branch the longest? One-handed? Three fingers? One finger? By their necks?

  She smiled in the darkness. For a period she’d made it her life’s ambition to break every one of his records. And she did. So convincingly that Billos had scolded her for doing nothing but practicing to beat him.

  “Is your life’s ambition to beat me?” he’d demanded. “Life’s not just one long contest! What’s your problem?”

  You, she’d thought. You’re my problem, Billos, because I owe you my life. And I want to be like you.

  She realized then that in her attempt to please him by excelling in these feats of his, she was displeasing him. Billos was bred to be a winner; anything less only frustrated him. Though she still played his games enthusiastically after that day, she stopped practicing night and day to beat him.

  Darsal reached down, untied the knot that held Hunter to the pommel, and gave him a nudge with her left arm. The Roush slowly tipped over, then toppled off the horse, a ball of fur headed to the desert floor.

  He landed with a soft thud and, amazingly, lay still for a moment before suddenly waking and floundering for footing.

  Without so much as a squawk, the Roush shook his head to clear it, stumbled forward, took flight, and settled back in his former position on the horse.

  He snuggled back into Darsal’s stomach, sighed deeply, and settled. Two minutes later the creature was snoring again.

  Darsal was tempted to try again, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She might have captured the Roush, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t like him.

  “I think so too,” a soft voice said to her right.

  She turned to Karas, who’d woken and drawn even. Darsal returned her gaze to the gentle white sand dunes ahead. It surprised her that she was glad for the girl’s company. “You think what too?”

  “That it’s unfair for me to sleep just because I can,” Karas said.

  Darsal still wasn’t sure what to make of the girl. Too intelligent and witty for her own good. Brave enough to follow despite the obvious danger. But above all, Karas wanted to belong. And no wonder; her mother had been killed by her father, whom Karas had just abandoned to become a Forest Dweller, The girl had no family left.

  Unless Darsal was her aunt, as the girl claimed.

  “What makes you think Alucard is real?” Karas asked. “I’ve never seen a Shataiki, have you?”

  “Yes.” Was she permitted to share that?

  What does it matter now, Darsal? You’ve broken all the rules already.

  “Billos, Johnis, Silvie, and I can see both the Shataiki and the Roush. Our eyes have been opened.”

  “Really? Why?”

  Darsal shrugged. “That’s more than you need to know.”

  “I’m risking my life to help you. Doesn’t that qualify me to know what I’m getting into? Maybe my eyes should be opened too.”

  Darsal scoffed. “You really do think that way, don’t you? That everything revolves around you. You’re not helping. If anything, you’re a burden.”

  “Exactly,” Karas said. “But if my eyes were opened, I could be more of a help. Think about it.”

  Darsal turned to her. “You think I have the power to open your eyes?”

  “Then who does?” The horses plodded, “Can you see one now?”

  “A Shataiki?”

  “Or a Roush.”

  Darsal faced forward, then snuck a peek at the fur ball leaning back against her. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

  Karas rode silently for a dozen strides.

  “If you can’t open my eyes, at least tell me why yours are open.”

  Darsal considered the request. The girl might be helpful if she knew what they were looking for.

  “We’re on a mission to find the seven original Books of History,” she said, then quickly recounted the barest overview of the quest.

  “Then you’re on the right path,” Karas said after a pause. “Witch used to talk about the seven books. And of Alucard, who has more under his skin than anyone realizes. Or so Witch said.”

  “Has what under his skin?”

  “I don’t know. But don’t you think it was a mistake to leave Johnis and Silvie behind? You’re breaking the oath.”

  Darsal turned away. “My oath to Billos came first.”

  Another pause.

  “Then I admire your loyalty, Sister. And I hope I can earn yours too.”

  THEY RODE HARD THROUGH THE NIGHT, INTO THE MORNING sun, then veered northwest as instructed by Hunter, whom Karas could not see. No sign of the Horde. Or of pursuit.

  Darsal pushed harder.

  “If you’re not going to stop and sleep, maybe you should tie yourself in so you don’t fall off the horse,” Karas said.

  “I’m fine.”

  “I won’t be able to lift you up by myself,” she persisted.

  “You don’t think I’ve gone without sleep before? Over three days once, in a contest with Billos.” Her parched lips twisted at the memory of her and Billos waking side by side under a tree, arguing about who’d fallen asleep first.

  “Then we should at least bathe in the water, right?”

  “She’s right, you know,” Hunter said, “You never know when an arrow will pierce that water bag and drain its contents. Use it while you can,”

  So they stripped and bathed quickly.

  Darsal withdrew some jerky from the saddlebag and remounted. “Let’s go!”

  Karas’s horse was so tall that she had to jump to reach the pommel; then she muscled her way up and swung one leg over the saddle.

  Darsal led them through the desert’s blazing afternoon heat, torn between anger at Karas’s persistent questions and the small comfort they provided her. Questions, questions, so many questions.

  What do the Forest Dwellers eat and drink at celebrations? What’s this about Thomas of Hunter coming from the Histories? What does a Roush look like? Do you really love Billos so much as to trade all the forests for him?

  “Don’t be a squat. It’s unfair to pass judgment cloaked in a deceptively innocent question. Who said anything about trading the forests?”

  “Isn’t that what you’re doing?” Hunter muttered.

  Karas came back with yet another question. “Is squat a bad word?”

  “No. Not necessarily. It refers to someone’s height or lack thereof. It can be used for fun or for slander.”

  “Which way are you using the word?”

  Darsal frowned. “For fun, of course.”

  The two horses plodded on. Midday came and went; afternoon pulled the blazing sun inexorably toward the horizon; distant clouds turned fire red until darkness shut out all but twinkling stars.

  Once again Karas fell asleep, using her mount’s neck as a bed. Once again, Hunter snuggled back against Darsal’s belly and started to snore softly.

  Alone in the dark morning hours, Darsal finally let her emotions catch up to her. The dread she’d felt at being abandoned by Billos was now swept away by a terrible sorrow. What if she really had lost him forever? She didn’t know how to live without Billos. She was meant to marry him and bear his children one day, wasn’t she?

  And she still would … She would find that boy and save his thick head. And if necessary, she would teach him a lesson or two.

  Then she would marry him.

  Darsal saw the first Shataiki as the western sky began to lighten. At first she thought it was a dark desert shrub on the rise ahead, silhouetted by the graying sky behind. Or a rock on the horizon, because they�
�d passed a rare outcropping of boulders an hour earlier.

  It lifted one wing, moved a foot to its left, and she thought, A buzzard is stalking us. What does it know that we don’t?

  Then the red eyes came into focus, and Darsal pulled back on her reins. Shataiki! And not just one. A dozen or so, rising from the sand dune a hundred paces ahead.

  Hunter spit to one side. Darsal hadn’t noticed him waking. “Their smell ruins the desert,” the Roush said. “We are close.”

  “Sentries?”

  “Yes, but I can smell more than those fourteen. Look up.”

  Darsal did and saw a hundred black spots circling in the dim sky.

  “How far?”

  “A few miles and everything will change.”

  “Then it’s time for you to go.”

  “Perhaps,” Hunter said.

  Karas sat up, stared around, then faced Darsal. “What’s going on?”

  “We’re there.”

  “We are?” Another look. “How do you know?”

  “Shataiki. Ahead and above us.”

  Karas craned her neck and studied the sky. “Really?”

  “Really.” To Hunter: “There’s only one thing you can do to help us now. You don’t stand a chance on your own, am I right?”

  The Roush didn’t admit it quickly, but he could not lie. “Yes.”

  “Then fly back to Middle Forest and tell Johnis where we are. I have a two-day head start—if I can’t accomplish what I’ve come for in the two days it takes him to get here, it was never meant to be. Do you follow?”

  “You want me to fly?” Karas asked. “I told you, you need sleep!”

  “Not you, squat. I’m talking to Hunter. Well, Hunter? What is it?”

  “You’re a fool to go into the Black Forest, you realize that.”

  “I have some bargaining chips.”

  “Who’s Hunter?” Karas demanded.

  “The Roush who’s sitting on my horse. He’s been with us the whole time. Now please let me finish my business with him.”

  “If you wanted Johnis, why not just bring him in the first place?” Hunter asked.

  “Because he wouldn’t have come! And if he’d come, he might have turned us back, I couldn’t take that risk. Now it’s too late. He’ll come. Go to him.”