Rebels and Fools (The Renegade Chronicles Book 1) (23 page)

Keeping
in step with the retainer, Dark Lily replayed the scene with Fredmont Calhoun
over in her mind and decided she had played her role well. Although the
Commander of Fort Miloásterôn was a larger and more imposing figure than the
current Commander of Fort Splendor, Calhoun nevertheless reminded her of Gerard
Ralz.

Then
again, all Knights looked alike to her—covered in facial hair, muscular and
broad-shouldered, and always so damn serious.

When
her guide finally stopped and unlocked one of the many doors lining the silent
corridor, Dark Lily entered a surprisingly spacious room. The well-dressed man
asked if there was anything she required, and although the wizardess’s
grumbling stomach said otherwise, she told him she was fine. With a final word
of thanks, she closed the door.

The
thought of spending the remainder of the night sleeping on the cold, hard earth
made her think twice about leaving the accommodations—and its alluring feather
bed. Were she to stay, the Knights would undoubtedly pester her with questions
in the morning. Anyway, she couldn’t afford to lose track of the Renegades.

She
opened the door a crack and peered into the hallway outside her room. It was
empty. Closing the door once more, Dark Lily pictured the Renegade’s camp, a
small clearing surrounded by tall pines. She had done all she could to bring
the Knights to the Renegades and could only hope that the keepers of Fort
Miloásterôn wouldn’t let her disappearance sway them from dealing with the band
of rebels.

She
spoke the words of her spell, concentrating on the image of the clearing and
doing her best to ignore the dizzying fatigue that threatened to steal her
consciousness. A moment later, the guestroom was empty, leaving no trace of
Lily of Pillars.

*
         
*
         
*

When
Klye finally awoke, the first rays of morning light streaked the murky sky with
swaths of orange and red. He was the last of his men to wake, except for
Horcalus, who had continued to fade in and out of a troubled sleep throughout
the night.

As
Ragellan told Klye about the
sai-morí
’s attack, Othello extinguished the
fire, and the others began packing up the camp.

“Why
didn’t you wake me sooner?” Klye asked Ragellan, hastily folding his bedroll.

The
knight looked up from his task of checking Horcalus’s wound. “We tried, at
first, but you didn’t respond. Scout recovered the quickest, but you and
Crooker would not wake. Besides, you needed rest.”

With
his dearest friend sick and possibly dying, Ragellan must have been tempted to
abandon the Renegades and find Horcalus much-needed help. Klye thanked the gods
for knightly honor.

“Is
he doing any better?” Klye asked, wiping the strands of wet hair from
Horcalus’s brow.

“The
wound has stopped bleeding, and Othello’s tea has brought the fever down a
little, but he continues to wrestle with the poison. He needs the attention of
the healers. If you will allow me to take him to the temple myself—”

“No.”

“I
swear we will meet up with you farther down the road once Horcalus is fit to
travel,” Ragellan promised.

“No.”
Ragellan looked alarmed, until Klye added. “We would
all
benefit from
the healers’ ministrations…and their food. As much as I had hoped to avoid the
Temple of Mystel, we don’t have a choice anymore.”

“You
don’t have to worry about the healers, Klye,” Scout said, easing his way into
the conversation. “I’ve talked to other Renegades who were treated there, and
they said the healers helped them even though they knew they were rebels. They
treated them as if they were full-fledged Knights of Superius…er…no offense,
Ragellan.”

“None
taken.” After Klye’s announcement that they were all to make the trip to the
temple, Ragellan’s care-worn face had relaxed somewhat, and he almost smiled as
he said, “I pray your prediction proves true, Scout.”

Although
he was rested, Klye knew his empty belly was taking its toll on his strength.
When he and Ragellan lifted Horcalus off the ground, the knight felt about ten
times heavier than yesterday.

Of
course, they were all hungrier and worse for the wear. While Plake was able to
walk on his own, Pistol limped noticeably as he trudged near the back of the
group. Predictably, Crooker, who had received more than a few cuts from the
goblins’ wicked blades, was right beside him.

Klye
was tempted to berate Pistol for running off after the
sai-morí
,
blatantly disobeying his orders, but the assassin had probably done more to
punish the pirate than anything Klye could think of. Besides, he didn’t have
the energy to confront Pistol—and he still hadn’t gotten around to scolding
Plake for getting Ragellan captured back at Oars and Omens.

Lilac
and Arthur carried their meager supplies, while Othello brought up the rear.
Although he was thankful Lilac had arrived just in time to kill the
sai-morí
and save Ragellan, there was something about the woman he didn’t trust. She
always seemed to be watching them but avoided his eyes when he caught her
looking at him.

Perhaps
Ragellan had noticed Klye watching Lilac just then, for he quietly told him, “There
is more to her than meets the eye, methinks.”

“What
makes you say that?”

“When
I told her and Pistol the assassin had come for me, Lilac made a face that
betrayed her. She knows something she has not told us. She also said she needed
to talk to me in private.”

“Did
you talk to her?”

“No,”
Ragellan admitted. “Scout woke up shortly after that, and I thought it best for
everyone else to get as much rest as possible before we started off for today.
Scout and Lilac took first watch while I slept. At the changing of the guard, I
attempted to approach her, but she put me off and quickly went to sleep
herself.”

Klye
glanced behind them under the pretext of seeing if everyone was keeping up.
When his eyes reached Lilac, the woman was staring back at him.

To
Ragellan he said, “Why do you think the assassin…that sigh-whatever…was after
you?”

Ragellan
sighed. “There seems but one explanation. The Knights of Superius have hired
outside help to recapture Horcalus and me.”

Klye
realized how difficult it must have been for Ragellan to admit that the Knights
of Superius had stooped to hiring mercenaries. But what else could be
concluded? Klye couldn’t help but wonder why Ragellan and Horcalus were so
important. Did Ragellan perhaps also know something he was not sharing?

The
Renegade Leader pushed the thought from his mind, feeling guilty for it.
Chester Ragellan had been nothing but honest and forthright with him from the
start.

Yet
Klye didn’t trust Lilac of Superius and swore he would keep an eye on her until
he determined what she was about.

Passage VIII

When
Fredmont Calhoun entered the council room, Sir McRae and Sir Magmund were
already waiting at the small table. The two Knights rose and saluted Calhoun, who
returned the gesture wearily and motioned for the men to sit down.

As
he made his way to the head of the table, he saw McRae’s sour reaction to the
man following Calhoun. Sir Magmund smiled politely but shifted his gaze away
from the newcomer.

When
the wizard took an empty seat across from McRae, the Knight demanded, “What is
he
doing here?”

“Master
Irenistan is here because I want him to be here, Subcommander.” Calhoun’s tone
left no room for debate.

Selwyn
McRae gave the spell-caster another scowl and crossed his arms. Calhoun could
not blame the man for his reaction. Almost all of his men regarded Shek
Irenistan with suspicion and derision to varying degrees.

The
Knights—along with most of Continae’s populace—had a long history of
distrusting magi, stemming all the way back to the Wars of Sundering, when
great war wizards had leveled cities and ravaged the land. Calhoun himself had
objected to the idea of a magus residing at Fort Milo, but who was he to argue
with the King of Superius, who kept a wizard among his own advisors?

Although
Vincent Magmund was newly assigned a fortress, he had adjusted to Shek’s
presence more quickly than the others. Unlike McRae, Lieutenant Magmund treated
Shek Irenistan with civility.

Calhoun
started the meeting by telling Vincent Magmund and Shek Irenistan of his and
McRae’s conversation with the woman from Pillars. The two men listened
intently—Sir Magmund playing with the ends of his mustache—until the commander
concluded his story.

“For
once I am in agreement with Sir McRae,” Shek said. The wizard spoke with a rich
accent that revealed his homeland as the Desert Ahuli-Okx, a vast wasteland
bordering Superius to the north. “If you will permit me, Commander, I can cast
a spell that will reveal whether the woman is who she says she is.”

“We
don’t need your foul sorcery,” McRae sneered.

Shek
spared the subcommander a wry smile. “I am a wizard, not a sorcerer. There is a
difference, you unlearned
yaamek
.”

McRae
rose to his feet, his hand on the hilt of the broadsword hanging at his side.
“What did you call me?”

Shek
did not rise to meet the Knight’s challenge. He merely gave McRae a bored look.

“Be
seated, Subcommander,” Calhoun ordered, and McRae begrudgingly obeyed. “It is
late, and our true enemies may well be nigh, so let us keep focused on our
common goal.”

“I
cannot allow the wizard to violate Lily with his magic,” McRae insisted. “There
are other ways to determine if she is lying.”

Fredmont
Calhoun rolled his eyes. Only minutes ago, McRae had been convinced Lily was a liar,
and now he was defending her. The subcommander’s distrust of Shek clearly
outweighed his suspicion of Lily of Pillars.

When
Shek Irenistan had first arrived at Fort Milo, Calhoun too had been reluctant
to allow Shek to perform even minor incantations. However, he had spent a lot
of time with Shek since then and was beginning to realize that magic was not
evil in and of itself—something he had been told time and time again throughout
his forty-five years of life.

He
was even beginning to like the morose magus.

Vincent
Magmund said, “I agree with Sir McRae. We cannot interrogate this woman…through
magical means or otherwise…until she has given us cause. In the meantime, we
must presume she has spoken the truth.”

“Agreed,”
Calhoun said. “I propose we send forth a patrol at first light to search for
these Renegades. The question is where to send it?”

Magmund
stroked his mustache as he thought. “Are there any paths that cut through the forest
to the south, aside from the road that leads directly to the Temple of Mystel,
I mean?”

“There
are many,” McRae answered. “Too many, in fact. Between game trails and
overgrown paths that have existed since before the dwarves left the island.
There are more than a dozen routes dissecting the forest. The Renegades could
be anywhere in there.

“But
if Lily is to be believed, the band is less than a day’s march from the temple.
The wisest course would be send fast riders down the road to the temple and ambush
the Renegades before they reach the healers.”

Calhoun
nodded. “Intercepting the rebels before they reach the temple is paramount,” he
said. “We must do whatever we can to keep them from the sanctuary of the
healers.”

“Who
will lead the patrol?” Shek asked.

Magmund
rose to his feet. “I ask permission to lead the mission.”

“Commander!”
McRae exclaimed, also rising from his chair. “I was on duty when the woman
first arrived. It is my responsibility to see this through.”

Calhoun
regarded the two eager Knights, each in turn. While stationed at Fort Honor,
Vincent Magmund had led several sorties against Domacles Herronin, the boldest
Renegade Leader in Capricon. Everything Calhoun had learned of his new
lieutenant implied Magmund was a capable commanding officer. And yet…

“Subcommander
McRae will lead the mission,” Calhoun announced. To Magmund, he said, “You will
be in charge of assembling a series of small search parties to penetrate the
forest on foot. There are maps in the bureau in the war room.”

“Yes,
sir,” the two men replied in unison. If Vincent Magmund was disappointed at
being passed over by a lower-ranking Knight, he gave no visible indication.

Calhoun
was lost in thought as he made his way back to his room. He was confident that
Vincent Magmund and McRae could handle their duties, and he hoped to catch a
few hours of sleep before the sun came up and a new day presented him with a
slew of new worries.

He
heard the swish of robes against the stony floor of the wide hallway and turned
to find Shek following him. Calhoun paused, waiting until the wizard caught up.

“No
disrespect intended, Commander, but do you think it wise to let McRae lead the
Knights bound for the temple? Lieutenant Magmund is better qualified to command
the patrol, not to mention McRae knows the woods better than Sir Magmund.”
After a moment, Shek added, “And if I understand the hierarchy of the
Knighthood, Sir Magmund outranks Sir McRae. You could have passed McRae up
without having to defend your decision.”

“Instead
I find I must defend my decision to you!” Calhoun said with a chuckle. “Selwyn
McRae is an exemplary Knight when his pugnacious nature does not cloud his
thinking. But there was more to my decision than the subcommander’s flimsy
claim.

“The
messengers from Port Town and Lily of Pillars both spoke of two rogue knights
who were liberated from the Citadel Dungeon in Superius. The older of the two,
Chester Ragellan, has twice now escaped the hands of the law. I believe him to
be a wily and dangerous man.”

Calhoun
rubbed his eyes and sighed. “You must realize, my friend, that it is not an
easy thing for a Knight to face a former brother-in-arms in battle. Although
every Knight claims to hate a traitor, pity can be equally powerful. I do not
doubt Sir Magmund’s integrity, but I know for certain that nothing Ragellan or
his fellow Renegades might say will sway McRae in his purpose.”

“If
ever there was a man without pity, it is Selwyn McRae,” Shek concluded.

“That
is not what I said,” Calhoun countered, but when he looked at his companion, he
saw that Shek’s thin lips—practically hidden by his thick, dark goatee—were
curved upward in a sly smile.

“And
they say wizards do not have a sense of humor,” Calhoun laughed.

Shek’s
smile broadened. “They say the same about Knights.”

*
         
*
         
*

By
the time they reached the temple, Klye felt as though he might collapse at any
moment. After telling Scout and the others to hang back, Klye and Ragellan
continued forward until they reached the last of the tall evergreens. From
there, the Renegade Leader studied the isolated shrine.

Compared
to Aladon’s Cathedral, the Temple of Mystel was a modest structure, but what it
lacked in stained-glass windows, vaulted ceilings, and towering steeples, it
made up for in the beauty of simplicity. Looking more like an oversized cottage
than the house of a deity, the square-shaped building crested a great mound of
earth that rose majestically from the flat land around it.

It
was truly a welcoming sight.

“Finally,”
Plake groaned, walking right up behind Klye and Ragellan. He craned his neck to
look over Klye’s shoulder. “What now?”

“We
should send someone to tell the healers about our situation.”

“Who’re
you going to send?” Plake asked.

Without
taking his eyes off the temple, Klye said, “You.”

Plake
looked as though he were going to object, but to Klye’s astonishment, the
rancher bit his lip, nodded, and tried to cover his scabbard with his shirt.

“Leave
your weapon,” Klye told him. “We don’t want to alarm the good healers any more
than is necessary.”

With
a belligerent look in his eyes, Plake opened his mouth to argue, but again he
complied. After exhaling a deep breath, he handed his sword over to the
Renegade Leader. Wordlessly, the rancher turned and walked toward the hill.

“What
just happened?” Ragellan asked. “He must have hit his head harder than I
thought.”

A
smile crept across Klye’s face. “I think we have Tristana to thank for taming
Plake’s tongue, not the goblins. I may have my reservations about Lilac, but
her presence seems to be doing wonders for Plake’s attitude.”

Ragellan
gave the Renegade Leader a dubious look. “You believe he is trying to impress
the woman?
Flirtation
is his motivation?”

Klye
shrugged. “All I know is I’m not the only one who’s been keeping an eye on
her.”

“You
are a far shrewder man than I have given you credit for.”

“I’ll
take that as a compliment.”

The
two were silent, then, as they watched Plake approach the temple and knock on
the door. Klye heard someone coming up from behind them and turned to find
Pistol there.

“You
sent Plake?” he whispered, appraising Klye with an incredulous stare.

“I
figured if these healers are going to have a problem with our kind, we’re
better off finding out sooner than later.”

“So
you sent
Plake
? Oh…I get it.”

The
round door swung open, revealing a figure wearing a light-blue robe. It
appeared to be a woman, though Klye could not be sure because rays of the
morning sun were blinding him.

When
Plake finished speaking and started walking back down the hill at an unhurried
pace, Pistol said, “Seems to have gone well.”

By
that time, the rest of the band had maneuvered closer to the forest’s edge.
Plake rejoined them moments later, all but puffing out his chest.

“What
did they say?” Klye asked.

“She
said we’re all welcome in the temple.”

“Did
you tell her we were Renegades?” Klye asked.

“No,”
Plake replied. “Was I supposed to?”

Rolling
his eyes, Klye said, “I’ll handle it.”

As
he approached the temple, a hysterical thought crossed his mind. What if his
strength gave out before he reached the top of the hillock?

I
just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other, he told himself,
resurrecting the motto that had echoed through his head during their morning
hike.

He
motioned for the others to follow. When he reached the door, he noted that the
healer Plake had spoken to was now joined by a man. Both of them wore robes the
color of robins’ eggs, but the man’s gown had white trim around the sleeves and
collar.

“I
am Jalil Shenn, the overseer of this temple,” the man said. “And this is Sister
Gloria,” he added, indicating the large woman beside him. “You are all welcome
to stay with us, but tell me, friends, how many of you are there?”

“Ten,”
Klye told him, “but I have to tell you, we aren’t the simple travelers my
companion might have implied.”

Jalil
Shenn’s smile broadened. “I am sure we will have plenty of time for you to tell
me your story once you are fed and your injuries are mended.”

The
man gestured for the Renegades to enter, taking Klye by the arm and leading him
through the front hall and then through what appeared to be a common lounging
area. A few blue-clad priests were having a quiet conversation in one corner of
the room.

As
he followed Jalil Shenn, Klye cast a few glances at the healer. He had a
naturally friendly air that made Klye instantly suspicious. The Renegade Leader
had always found that the nicest people were also the people who were most
likely to stab you when you turned your back on their secret smiles. And
priestly types had always made him uneasy.