Rebels and Fools (The Renegade Chronicles Book 1) (28 page)

“Your
sword was found with Ragellan’s blood on it. You told me yourself that you came
to Capricon to find them. You have been behaving suspiciously ever since you
joined my band. Then you and the knights vanish, and Ragellan ends up dead.

“I’ve
had enough of your lies, Lilac. Tell me how you did it? Are you a wizard?”

Despair
threatened to drown her. Not only had she failed Ragellan, but Klye and the
others thought she was responsible for Ragellan’s death.

But
anger lent her strength. “Didn’t you see the burnt corpse…or what was left of
one…near where you found Horcalus and me?”

“We
saw it,” Klye said.

“Well,
that’s your wizardess right there. At the start of the battle, she told us she
had been traveling with our band for some time. I didn’t know what she meant at
first, but during the battle, she became invisible, so I suppose she was just
following us around, waiting for an opportunity to single out the knights. I
must have gotten in the way of her spell.”

“Because
you always happened to be near them,” Klye interrupted. “And why is that,
Lilac? You told me earlier you came to the island to find Ragellan and
Horcalus. Were you and the spell-caster partners? A pair of assassins paid by
the Knights of Superius to do away with the traitors?”

“I
didn’t come all the way to Capricon to
kill
them. I came here to
save
them!” she shouted. “My brother died trying to restore their honor…to vindicate
them…but he failed. Just as I have failed.”

Klye
waited for her to explain further, a perplexed look on his face.

“My
brother, Sir Gabriel Zephyr, spent his entire career as a Knight at Fort Splendor,
working under Chester Ragellan’s command. When Ragellan was arrested for
treason, my brother kept silent, but never for a moment did he believe him
guilty. After Ragellan and Horcalus were taken to the Citadel Dungeon, Gabriel
started snooping around the fort, trying to get to the bottom of what he
supposed was some great misunderstanding.

“One
day my brother overheard Commander Ralz, Ragellan’s replacement, speaking with
a stranger about the rogue knights. According to the letter I received from my
brother, this stranger was furious Ragellan and Horcalus had escaped from the
Citadel Dungeon, and he wanted to send bounty hunters to track them down,
including a wizardess who had apparently worked for Ralz before.

“That
was the last letter I ever received from Gabriel. The Knights claim that he
died in a hunting accident, but I don’t believe that. There is no doubt in my
mind that the Knights of Superius killed him when they caught him spying.

“Gabriel
risked everything in order to clear the name of his former comrades, so I
decided to take up his quest to honor his memory.”

After
a moment of silence, Klye asked, “If you knew about the assassins, why didn’t
you tell us?”

“For
one thing, I didn’t know they were assassins. I assumed the Knights wanted Ragellan
and Horcalus alive,” she said, “and when I realized their peril, I tried to
talk to Ragellan, but I could never get him alone. You were always watching me.
How could I be sure that you weren’t hired on the sly by the Knights to take
them to Fort Faith?

“I
thought it would be better to wait until I knew more about you and your band,
but between the goblins, the
sai-morí
, and then the Knights at the
temple, there wasn’t a good opportunity.”

Klye
wore an impassive expression, so Lilac had no idea whether he believed her or
not. Finally, he asked, “What about your sword? Everything you’ve said so far
makes sense, but how does an ordinary woman come to possess such an
extraordinary weapon?”

Ordinary
woman? Lilac
thought.

“For
your information, the vorpal sword is an heirloom that has been passed down
from father to oldest son for as long as anyone in the Zephyr family can
remember. It belonged to my brother, but when he joined the Knighthood, he
thought better of taking the enchanted weapon with him to Fort Splendor, as
Knights tend to mistrust such things. I figured the sword would do more good in
my hands than hanging on the wall above the fireplace, so I took it.

“If
you don’t believe me, you can always return to Superius and ask my father about
it. I’m sure he misses it, though he knows nothing of why I left home with it.
I didn’t want to leave any clues behind. My father is a baron. I didn’t want to
incriminate him in any way.”

Klye
sighed and started unraveling a knot by her right arm. “I don’t think I’ll be
back in Superius any time soon,” he said, “but you are free to return if you
wish.”

“So
you believe me?”

“I
told Horcalus and the others about the conversation we had earlier, when you
told me your full name. Horcalus recalled a Knight by the name of Gabriel
Zephyr who had been stationed with him at Fort Splendor. I thought it might be
a coincidence at the time, but it supports your story.”

When
Klye finished untying her, Lilac stood and stretched her stiff muscles. She
noticed she was wearing a different shirt and could feel the constriction of
bandages beneath the garment, covering the wound made by Dark Lily’s wand.

“We’re
back at the Temple,” she concluded. “But what about the Knights?”

“The
Knights have returned to their fort. According to Jalil Shenn, we have McRae’s
unsanctioned attack to thank for their abrupt retreat. ”

“Where
is everybody else?”

“They’re
asleep. It’s rather late, actually. I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d wait for
you to wake up.” He sighed again and looked away from her. “I’m sorry for
accusing you, Lilac. If anything, I should be thanking you for risking your
life for them. Why, if not for you, Horcalus…he might not…”

The
awkward silence was ended by the appearance of a heavyset healer. Klye took his
leave when the healer told Lilac it was time to check her bandages.

Sister
Gloria had a gentle touch, and it took her only a few minutes to remove the
reddened strips of cloth and replace them with a fresh poultice. When the
healer asked Lilac if she wanted anything to eat or drink, Lilac declined.

The
priestess left, taking her candle with her. Alone in the dark, Lilac sat at the
edge of the bed. Staring out the window at the emptiness of night, she knew
that the aching in her chest had nothing to do with her recent injuries.

Passage XIII

At
dawn, Chester Ragellan was laid to rest in the temple’s small graveyard. Two
priests bearing Ragellan’s body on a litter led the procession down the hill.
They were followed by Jalil Shenn and the Renegades. As the healers placed the
knight in a hole that had been dug the night before, Klye and the others
gathered around the grave.

In
lieu of a tombstone , Horcalus planted Ragellan’s sword in the ground at the
head of the grave. It was the tradition of the Knighthood to use a warrior’s
sword as a gravestone during times of war, he told them, which was the only
thing he had said all morning.

Telling
Horcalus of Ragellan’s death was the hardest thing Klye had ever had to do. The
younger knight had taken the news stoically, though Klye could see past the
brave front. Horcalus had spent the night alone, mourning, praying, or doing
whatever it was knights did when comrades were slain.

Jalil
Shenn gave the eulogy, though Klye found little comfort in his theological
rhetoric. He had always thought dead was dead. Once the spark of life was
quenched, the body rotted, and that was the end.

For
Ragellan’s sake, Klye wanted to believe Jalil when he said that the knight’s
spirit would live on in a better place among the gods, where pain and strife
were but a memory. If there were gods, Klye believed faithful and courageous
Chester Ragellan should be among them.

After
Jalil finished his speech, the two priests who had brought Ragellan’s body to
the cemetery took up spades and began covering the cloth coffin with soil. Klye
had supposed Horcalus would add a personal testimony to Jalil’s homily, but the
knight’s lips remained firmly pressed together, his cloudy gray eyes fixed on
the hole.

Klye
glanced over at Othello and Plake. They had known Ragellan for nearly as long
as Klye had. Both men were watching the grave slowly fill with dirt. Othello’s
expression was as impassive as ever, but there was something about the archer
that betrayed sadness, and it seemed to Klye that this was not the first time
those strange green eyes had seen tragedy.

Plake,
on the other hand, wore a great frown. He shifted his weight from one foot to
the other, looking uncomfortable and eager to be gone from the funeral.

Arthur
stood between Horcalus and Lilac. The boy looked up from the grave to glance
occasionally at Horcalus, as though he wanted to console the man. Lilac had her
eyes closed, her shoulders trembling as she tried to keep her sobbing in check.
Klye thought she was probably mourning both Ragellan and her brother.

On
Klye’s other side, Scout stood bareheaded, his fidgety hands crumpling the
formless piece of material that was his hood. Scout’s freshly shaven face was
shiny and wet where tears had fallen. Scout had met Ragellan only days ago,
which made Klye wonder how Solomon Aegis could care so much for someone he
hardly knew.

Scout’s
and the others’ open display of emotions sent a stab of guilt through Klye’s
stomach. He wasn’t crying. No, he had spent the past couple of minutes studying
his men, thinking of the late Chester Ragellan in a most abstract manner.

Klye
had lost people before, but he had never shed a tear for them. They had been
acquaintances of convenience. Once they were gone, there was no use thinking
about them anymore.

But
Ragellan had been more than a mere traveling companion or a strategic partner
in crime. Klye had bonded with the knight in a way he never had with anyone
else. He had trusted Ragellan implicitly. Ragellan hadn’t laughed—as others
surely would have—when he had told him about the bizarre dream he had had while
in that coma. And Ragellan had respected his views on politics, religion, and
life, even though their opinions had differed greatly.

Chester
Ragellan had been his first true friend.

The
anger that had filled him yesterday had burned out, leaving only hollowness
behind. It suddenly occurred to him that he, their Renegade Leader, ought to
say a few words about the late knight, but he no longer trusted his composure.
The scene before him started to waver as tears welled in the corners of his
eyes, and an irritating sensation made his nose itch.

Gods,
he thought, when was the last time I cried?

But
Klye fought his grief. He had to be strong—for the sake of his men.

When
Pistol stepped up to the head of the grave, everyone looked surprised. The
healers who had been burying the dead knight stayed their shovels and
respectfully waited for the man to speak.

“It’s
true I knew Ragellan only a short time,” the pirate began, “but I considered
him a friend. He probably saved my life back in Port Town. Even if Leslie and
her Renegades did plan on rescuin’ me, it was a damn brave thing for him to
do…and he didn’t even know me. I don’t really know how he ended up on the wrong
side of the law, and I don’t care. Chester Ragellan was a great man, and I
count myself lucky to’ve known him.”

Pistol
edged away from the grave-marker.

“Here,
here!” said Crooker, a wistful smile on his face. Lifting his cutlass skyward,
he added, “To Chester Ragellan. If anyone speaks ill of our fallen friend, let
his tongue rot in his mouth and choke him!”

Klye
wondered if that was a typical toast at buccaneer funerals. It hardly seemed the
proper thing to say of a Knight of Superius, but to his surprise, the pirates’
words had made him feel a little better.

Ragellan
was dead, but his memory would live on. Less than a year ago, Klye might have
dismissed such an idea as sentimental tripe, but now he found comfort in it. He
would always be able to look back and remember the adventures he and Ragellan
had shared. And it felt good to be surrounded by people who had known him and
cared about him too.

“To
Ragellan!” Klye repeated, raising his sword in a salute.

The
others echoed the call, except for Dominic Horcalus, who brandished his blade
in silence. There seemed nothing more to say or do, so Klye cast a final glance
back at the grave and returned to the temple. Jalil and the other priests followed,
returning to whatever duties required their attention. As the man walked past
him, Klye thanked Jalil for everything he had done for them.

On
top of tending to the Renegades’ wounds, standing up to the Knights of
Superius, and providing them with a place to bury Ragellan, Jalil Shenn had
promised he would give the band whatever supplies he could provide.

Klye
stopped short of entering the Temple of Mystel and turned to address his men,
who regarded him expectantly. Chester Ragellan may have been his first friend,
but Klye realized he had begun to think of his other companions as friends too.
They had all depended on one another for their survival, had worked as a team
even when there had been little hope of victory.

“We
are a little more than halfway to Fort Faith,” Klye said. “Losing Ragellan is
no small setback. His wisdom, his skill in battle, and most of all, his
friendship will be sorely missed. However, I intend to complete the mission. I
think he would want us to. But I’ll understand if any of you wish to go your
separate way.”

Klye
found himself looking at Horcalus as he spoke. If anyone were to turn back, it
would be Horcalus. The knight had recovered from the goblins’ poison, but no
one would fault him if he chose to remain at the Temple of Mystel a while
longer.

“If
we are to have any chance of reaching Fort Faith before the Knights arrive, we
cannot linger here. If any of you wish to leave the band, say so now. The rest
of us will be on our way within the hour.”

Not
a single man—or woman—took the offer.

*
         
*
         
*

Fredmont
Calhoun had stayed up well past midnight, interviewing Shek Irenistan, Selwyn
McRae, and the other Knights separately. Many of the latter had tried to
protect their subcommander, using a fair number of euphemisms and vague
language recounting what had happened at the temple, but they were all
honorable Knights of Superius, and their good intentions could not gloss over
the truth of the matter.

As
angry as Calhoun had been with McRae for his infractions with the healers, he
became even more livid when he learned McRae had raised his sword against Shek
Irenistan.

“He
is a guest at Fort Miloásterôn, a friend of the Knighthood, and he was your
commanding officer at the time of the offense!” Calhoun roared, losing all
patience with McRae. “Shek neither provoked you nor threatened you. Why did you
attack him?”

Selwyn
McRae had answered all of Calhoun’s questions in a mild voice, speaking
matter-of-factly, but at this, his tone had become defensive, almost
challenging. “I did what I did because I could not be certain the wizard wasn’t
working for the Renegades. You say I was unprovoked, but I see it differently.
His words were confusing the men, and I did not want the Knights of Superius to
fail on account of his subversion. Besides, whoever heard of a wizard
commanding Knights, even temporarily? Now you see what happens when you depend
on magic. Only chaos can ever come of it.”

Not
trusting himself to suppress his temper any longer, Calhoun ordered McRae to
leave the council room. He wanted to give McRae the benefit of the doubt but
could not excuse the unrepentant man for his follies. McRae had subjugated
wisdom for the promise of victory. Magic or no magic, Selwyn McRae had acted
like a damned fool.

And
so, as the moon drifted across the night sky, Calhoun tried to determine what
punishment suited McRae’s crimes. Admittedly, Calhoun had confounded the issue
by placing someone from outside the Knighthood in command of the mission. Could
McRae accurately be charged with attempting to murder his commanding officer?
Could it even be considered insubordination if McRae had not believed Shek
acted in Calhoun’s name?

In
the end, Calhoun decided that it was beyond his ability to judge the matter.

He
arose early the next morning, which had come only a few short hours later.
Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he started to pen a letter to the King of
Superius, the ultimate authority in matters of justice within the ranks of the
Knighthood. It was by Edward Borrom’s wish that Shek had come to Fort Miloásterôn.
Let the king decide the fate of the wizard’s would-be killer.

Calhoun
was not even halfway through the first page of the carefully worded missive
when there came a knock at the door of his private office. Reluctant to answer
out of fear of losing his train of thought, he nevertheless bade his guest to
enter.

An
attendant opened the door tentatively, perhaps detecting the irritation in
Calhoun’s booming voice. The man snaked his body around the half-opened door
and succinctly reported that a Knight from North Port had ridden all night in
order to reach the fort and was now demanding a conference with the commander.

Few
Knights were stationed in North Port. Mostly, these men were there to provide
accommodations for Knights traveling between Capricon and Continae Proper, for
North Port had its own city guards. He couldn’t imagine what emergency had sent
this rider to his gates. Calhoun told the attendant to fetch the Knight. He
would meet with the man here in his private office.

The
Knight from North Port brought ill tidings: Domacles Herronin and his Renegades
were trying to take over the city and had already made one attempt to
infiltrate the mayor’s manor. He requested for the commander to send whatever
men he could spare in order to repel the assault on North Port.

For
the next hour or so, Calhoun, Vincent Magmund, Shek, and the Knight from North
Port discussed a strategy for defeating Domacles’ Renegades. In the end, it was
decided that fifty mounted warriors would ride forth and split into two groups,
attacking the Renegade camp in a pincer formation.

Shek
recommended using magic to enhance the horses’ speed, but Calhoun decided
against it, uncertain how the animals would react. But Calhoun was not ready to
dismiss the wizard’s skills altogether, and so he gave the wizard permission to
join Sir Magmund on the mission.

Once
the party had left Fort Milo, Calhoun tried to get back to his letter to the
king, but he was greatly distracted by the news from North Port. Domacles
Herronin had always been careful not to push the Knights too far, and so
neither the Commander of Fort Miloásterôn nor the Commander of Fort Honor had
ever had enough provocation to hunt down his band.

Why
would Domacles, who had been a thorn in their sides ever since the Renegades made
themselves known in Capricon, change his tactics at this point?

Trying
to push all these disconcerting thoughts from his mind, Calhoun focused on the
letter, but before long, he was interrupted again. The same retainer poked his
head in the room and told Calhoun a messenger had come from Port Town. As the
attendant went to retrieve the visitor, Calhoun muttered, “What does Crofton
Beryl want this time?”