Rebels and Fools (The Renegade Chronicles Book 1) (27 page)

Calhoun
winced at the wizard’s sarcasm. “I suppose I deserved that. King Borrom sent
you here for us to explore how spell-casters might work in harmony with the
Knighthood, and I have yet to utilize your talents…save your wisdom, of
course.”

Shek
bowed slightly. “I accept the compliment graciously. Please excuse my smugness.
I meant nothing by it. I am eager to show you what I can do. What is it you
need, Commander?”

“Is
there a way for you to see what is happening at the temple at this very moment,
like with a crystal ball or something?”

The
wizard gave a quick laugh that sounded like a bark. “I know a few incantations
that will allow us to watch McRae from a distance, though none of them include
a crystal ball.”

Setting
his book and Ranfir’s globe off the side, Shek gestured for the commander to
sit in the chair opposite him. Calhoun obeyed. He could feel his heart thumping
loudly in his chest, and butterflies fluttered in his stomach.

Gods,
he hadn’t been this nervous since his first battle.

“Close
your eyes and relax,” the wizard bade. “I am about to perform a relatively
simple incantation that will allow both of us to glimpse what McRae is doing.
It is a safe and painless rite. After a few minutes, you may start to see
things, perhaps a short scene or a series of motionless images. It will last but
a few seconds. Anything more requires a stronger spell, and that would take
some time for me to prepare.”

“Whenever
you are ready,” Calhoun replied, trying to keep his tone light. He closed his eyes
and prayed to the Warriorlord he wouldn’t get burned for playing with magic.

When
Shek placed his two fingers on either side of the commander’s head, Calhoun
opened his eyes in alarm. Feeling his face flush, he sighed and relaxed once
more. Shek began speaking softly, his smooth, slippery words all streaming
together, flowing over one another in such a way that Calhoun thought he heard
more than one voice at times.

Suddenly,
Calhoun felt as though he were on the brink of sleep, but then fuzzy shapes took
form and flitted past his mind’s eye. As the images sharpened, Calhoun saw the
Temple of Mystel from an aerial view. Several Knights stood outside of it, and
he immediately recognized McRae among them. As the vision honed in on the
subcommander’s face, Calhoun saw McRae was arguing with someone at the temple’s
door. He wished he could hear what was being said, but the scene was enveloped
by a womb of silence.

The
scene shifted, and Calhoun was now watching McRae and his men break down the
door. The subcommander was the first to charge into the temple, followed by
other Knights, their swords drawn.

Calhoun
gasped and opened his eyes. Disoriented, he had to remind himself that he was
inside Fort Miloásterôn, not at the temple with McRae. A great cloud had settled
in his brain, but it was quickly dissipating.

Shek
opened his eyes and asked, “Did you see anything, Commander?”

“Yes,”
Calhoun replied grimly. Based on Shek’s great frown, the wizard also had
witnessed McRae’s folly. “Have these things already happened, or might Sir
Duerot arrive in time to stop the subcommander?”

Shek
chuckled mirthlessly. “I cannot foretell the future, nor would I if I could.
McRae has already forced his way into the temple. At this very moment, he is
conducting a search of the premises.”

“Damnation!
There has to be a way to stop him before he does irreparable damage to our
relationship with the healers and the Knighthood’s reputation.”

“There
is,” Shek insisted. “I know a spell that can take you to McRae.”

The
commander balked and waved his hands. “Seeing visions is one thing, but
disappearing from one place and reappearing elsewhere is quite another. But
you
could go, could you not?”

“Yes,
Commander, though I doubt McRae will listen to anything I have to say.”

Calhoun
thought for a moment. “Do you have a quill and parchment?”

“Of
course.”

Shek
directed him over to a desk that was covered with charts bearing writing
Calhoun could not decipher. Once the wizard handed him a fresh quill, he
hastily penned a missive to McRae.

As
he wrote he said, “This will give you the authority to take over the mission.
Whether he likes it or not, McRae will have to defer to your judgement. I want
you to do whatever you can to smooth over this terrible incident.”

Shek
gave a stoic nod and tucked the parchment into the inside pocket of the red
coat he had donned. “I appreciate your trust, Commander. I shall not disappoint
you.”

Calhoun
opened his mouth to reply that he did not doubt it, but Shek was already gone,
swallowed up by thin air. He stared at nothing in particular for a moment, his
mind wandering down the many paths of possibilities, praying to Pintor for a
solution.

His
musings were interrupted by a strange sound. Absently, the commander wandered
back over to the table and discovered that the noise was coming from the glass
sphere. Shek’s scorpion was scraping its claws against the wall of the cage.
The pitch made Calhoun’s skin crawl.

Leaving
the hungry pet to its own devices, Calhoun hurried out of the room and toward
his private study, where he would start drafting a formal apology to Jalil
Shenn and his priests. As he composed the first few lines in his mind, Calhoun
decided that if Shek could get him and the Knights at Fort Milo out of this bit
of trouble, he would personally promote the wizard to acting subcommander.

Passage XII

When
Selwyn McRae heard the mage’s voice, he could scarcely believe his ill luck.
Wrenching his eyes from the defeated Renegade Leader, he saw Shek Irenistan
standing with arms akimbo just beyond the circle of men who had watched the
duel.

“What
are you doing here, wizard?” McRae demanded. “And what makes you think you can
tell me what to do?”

The
subcommander kept his blade poised over the Renegade Leader’s throat as Shek walked
towards him. Uneasy in the presence of the spell-caster, the Knights quickly
moved out of the way, allowing Shek to penetrate the circle. Wordlessly, the
wizard handed McRae a piece of paper.

McRae
tore the page from Shek’s grasp and scanned the letter. The script was sloppy,
but there was no mistaking Fredmont Calhoun’s signature at the end.

How
could Calhoun dishonor him so? He was on the verge of victory, and Calhoun
wanted him to back down? Sending the wizard to take over was like a dagger in
the back.

“A
clever forgery,” McRae said, crumpling up the missive and throwing it to the
ground. “You wizards truly are a clever lot, but I am not impressed by your
parlor tricks. Now be gone and let me finish what I have started!”

“I
am afraid that isn’t possible.” Shek turned away from McRae and, addressing the
other Knights, said, “Commander Fredmont Calhoun is not pleased with what has
transpired here. He never condoned bringing violence into the priests’ home and
has given me the authority to right this wrong. You are all to stand down.”

“Preposterous,”
McRae scoffed. “Calhoun would never put a wizard in charge of anything. We have
no reason to believe anything you say.” He spoke quickly, sensing his men’s
indecision. He had to prove to them that the usurping wizard was not to be
trusted or risk a full-scale insurrection. “For all we know, you could be
Renegade yourself, trying to help this band get away!”

Some
of the Knights muttered in agreement, while others frowned, apparently taking
the wizard’s side.

“What
you did was wrong,” Shek continued, looking at McRae once more. “Calhoun never
told you to lay siege to the temple. If you seek further proof, wait a little
while longer, and Sir Duerot will come and confirm what I have told you.”

“I
was given orders to do whatever it took to catch the rogue knights,” McRae
argued.

“No,”
said Shek. “Commander Calhoun wanted you to do whatever it took to reach the
Renegades before they made to the Temple. You have conveniently twisted his
words to justify your rampage. There will be consequences for your actions and
for anyone who refuses to follow the commander’s orders.”

McRae
began to tremble and, abandoning the Renegade Leader at his feet, charged
straight at Shek. When he tried to force his blade into the wizard’s belly,
McRae seemed to collide with a wall of steel. His blade snapped in half.

The
next thing McRae knew, he was on the ground. He scurried back his feet,
discarded the useless weapon, and came at wizard with his fists. The Knight
went down again, cradling his bleeding limb, cursing spell-casters and their
cowardly tricks. His vision blurred from pain and rage, he did not get up.

Everyone
was silent for the next minute or so, including a few healers who had gathered
around the scene. The Knights regarded one another with mixed expressions, some
looking sheepish and others appearing as though they too wanted a shot at the
wizard.

Jalil
Shenn came forward, but then the sound of an approaching rider attracted
everyone’s attention.

*
         
*
         
*

As
McRae lunged at the wizard, Klye slowly got to his feet, wincing as he put his
weight on his injured knee. He had thought to use the diversion to his
advantage, but the Knights had their weapons drawn and aimed at his unarmed
companions.

The
Renegade Leader had little choice but to wait for Sir Duerot—as the wizard had
named him—to join the mixed assembly at the bottom of the hill. The Knight gave
the wizard a curious look. Then his face drained of all color when he saw the
temple’s broken window.

“What
has happened here? Did the Renegades try to run?” Sir Duerot asked, looking
from McRae, who still lay on the ground, to the wizard.

“Yes,
they did run,” replied the wizard, “but only after McRae ordered his men to
force their way into the Temple and flush them out.”

Sir
Duerot frowned and, addressing McRae, asked, “Why did you not wait for word
from Fort Milo? By the Commander Calhoun’s order, we are not to harass the
Renegades in any way, and if the rogues show no sign of leaving the temple, we
are to return to the fort for the time being.”

McRae
swore as he got up from the ground again, holding his bleeding hand against his
chest. “We could not afford to wait, Sir Duerot. As it is, the rogue knights
are nowhere to be found. Had we sat idly by, they might all have gotten away. However,
now that they are outside the temple—”

Jalil
Shenn took a step forward. “If the Knights of Superius carry away those who
came to the temple for help, we healers shall have a hard time forgiving them. Haven’t
you done enough damage already, Subcommander?”

McRae
glared at the priest, but his rebuttal was interrupted by a woman’s scream that
arose from somewhere behind Klye.

“Lilac!”
Plake exclaimed. “She’s in trouble!”

Klye
also assumed the shriek had been Lilac’s, but by his reasoning, it was not the
woman who needed saving. Scooping up his rapier mid-stride, Klye ran toward the
road from where the scream had originated.

Klye
fully expected the Knights to ride him down at any second, but he didn’t care.
He had to get to Ragellan and Horcalus before Lilac killed them.

McRae
ordered the Knights to stop him, but someone—either the wizard or Sir
Duerot—countermanded the command. The clamor of hooves against the earth never
came, and when Klye finally dared to glance behind him, he saw that his
Renegades were the only ones pursuing him. The Knights watched helplessly as
they all ran away.

By
the time he reached the forest, jolts of pain were lancing through his knee at
every step. Clenching his teeth, Klye pressed forward, redoubling his effort
when he saw a thin ribbon of smoke unfurling into the overcast sky. The smell
of charred flesh overwhelmed him, but it was only when he saw Ragellan’s
headless corpse that he faltered.

Scout
had caught up to him by then, and he steadied Klye when his legs gave way
beneath him. “Dear gods,” Scout whispered. “What happened?”

Klye’s
chest constricted, and he feared he was going to be sick. “
She
did
this.”

He
looked away from Ragellan’s remains and found Lilac a few yards up the road,
lying beside Horcalus. He couldn’t tell if Horcalus was alive or not, but his
eyes weren’t on the knight anyway. Klye was suddenly aware that he was
squeezing the hilt of his sword so tight his fingers ached.

“What’s
goin’ on?”

Klye
recognized Pistol’s voice, but it sounded as though the pirate were very far
away, as though speaking from outside a dream.

“I
don’t know,” Scout said, “but Klye…hey, Klye…”

He
didn’t hear the rest of what Scout said. He stormed over to Lilac, who appeared
to be sleeping, her chest slowly rising and falling. He drew back his sword and
prepared to thrust the rapier through Lilac’s chest with all of the power in
his being

“What
are you doing?” Scout demanded, grabbing Klye’s sword arm. “Have you lost your
mind?”

Klye
struggled to free himself, but Pistol and Crooker stepped in, pinning his hands
behind his back until he ceased fighting them. As his breathing gradually
returned to normal, he glared at Lilac, expecting her to rise up and attack
them at any moment.

“You
don’t understand,” Klye managed to say after a few seconds. “Lilac is an
imposter…another assassin, only she knows how to use magic. She killed Ragellan
and possibly Horcalus too.”

Pistol
and Crooker continued to hold him back, but their efforts were unnecessary.
Klye’s strength had left him all at once, and it was all he could do to stay on
his feet. Tears blurred his vision as he watched Scout kneel down next to
Horcalus. The hooded Renegade pressed two fingers against the knight’s neck and
then did the same to Lilac.

“They’re
both alive,” he reported.

“What
in the hells is going on here?” a red-faced Plake demanded, finally joining the
group.

“Klye
thinks Lilac knows magic and that she brought Ragellan and Horcalus out here to
kill them,” Scout told Plake, Arthur, and Othello.

“That’s
ridiculous!” Plake positioned himself between Klye and Lilac. “She never did
anything to hurt anybody. You can’t blame her for Ragellan’s death. Where’s
your proof?”

Klye
scowled at the blind, lovesick rancher, wanting very much to wrap his hands
around Plake’s thick neck.

“You
had better come and see this.”

It
was Othello who had spoken. The archer stood a short distance away from the
rest of the group. Klye couldn’t see what he was looking at, but as he and the
others joined the forester, Klye felt bile rise in the back of this throat.

The
smoldering, black bones had formerly belonged to a human, but little else could
be deduced from the charred remains.

“Who
in the hells was this?” Scout wondered aloud.

“If
Horcalus has been sleeping this whole time, then only Lilac can tell us what’s
happened here,” Plake said. “We’ll just have to wait until she wakes up to find
out.”

“But
if she’s a spell-flinger, like Klye says, she’d sooner put us all to the torch before
answerin’ our questions,” Pistol argued. “Gods, I hate magic.”

Klye
held up a hand, demanding silence. For once, Plake had a point. Things weren’t
adding up. If Lilac had killed Ragellan, why had she stuck around after the
battle? And what of the fourth body?

“Find
something to tie her up with…and gag her,” Klye ordered. “We’ll give her a
chance to explain herself, but if I don’t like what I hear, I’ll deal with her
in whatever way I see fit. For now, we have to carry them both back to the
temple. Ragellan too.”

Plake
frowned but wisely let the matter drop.

“What
about those Knights back there?” Pistol asked. “Maybe we ought to make a run
for it while we can.”

Klye
had considered that option, but he didn’t know how badly injured Lilac was, and
he didn’t want her to die before she told them the truth about herself and her
role in Ragellan’s death. More than anything, Klye needed time to sort
everything out.

“I’m
tired of running,” Klye said, looking back in the direction of the temple. “If
the Knights are still around, I can think of a few questions I’d like to ask
them.”

*
         
*
         
*

She
didn’t know what woke her. It was dark, but enough moonlight streamed through a
nearby window for her to see that she was lying on a bed in a room only
slightly larger than her closet back home. As she tried to recall how she had
ended up there, her mind was flooded with memories of her clash with the
wizardess and the death of Chester Ragellan.

Lilac
blinked back tears and tried to sit up, but she couldn’t.

Panic
overtook her as she pushed and writhed, trying to free herself from her
unexplained paralysis. She struggled to no avail. Forcing herself to calm down,
she lifted her head and squinted down at her body. Thick cords secured her arms
and legs to the bed. She would have cried out but for the soggy gag in her
mouth.

Who
had done this to her? Had Dark Lily somehow survived the battle and taken her
captive? That didn’t seem likely. The Knights from Fort Miloásterôn must have
happened upon her in the road. But what of Dominic Horcalus and the other
Renegades?

When
she saw a mote of light appear on the far wall, she gasped in spite of herself
and then quickly shut her eyes, feigning sleep. A distinct creaking sound
indicated a door was opening. All was silent save the racing of her heart; its
percussion declaring her trepidation with all the subtlety of a marching band.

“I
know you’re awake, Lilac. I heard you trying to escape your bonds.”

Lilac
opened her eyes in astonishment. The piece of cloth was none too gently yanked
from her mouth.

“Klye?
Thank the gods. Where are we? What’s going on?”

“I’ll
be asking the questions.” The Renegade Leader, arms crossed, peering down at
her with a frighteningly cold expression. “And here’s my first. How much did
the Knights pay you kill Ragellan and Horcalus?”

Lilac’s
eyes widened as her confusion gave way to fear. “What? No, Klye, you have it
all wrong. I didn’t murder Ragellan. Is Horcalus—”