Rebels and Fools (The Renegade Chronicles Book 1) (14 page)

Klye
couldn’t suppress a victorious laugh as he ran down the hall. Horcalus, Scout,
and Plake were waiting by a stairway that led down into the depths of the
prison. The fallen portcullis wouldn’t hold off the guards off for long…

As
he followed Scout down into the darkness, Klye tried not to think of what would
happen if the soldiers cornered them in the prison’s lower levels and
concentrated instead on finding their friend.

*
         
*
         
*

When
Crofton Beryl recognized Ragellan, he began to tremble in anger.

Grabbing
Harrod Brass by the shoulder, he shouted, “What is going on here? That’s not
Pistol. It’s the rogue knight from Superius!”

Captain
Brass could only sputter stupidly as his men proudly marched the wrong prisoner
closer and closer.

“You’ll
pay for this,” the mayor swore, which made the new Captain of the Guards
flinch. But the mayor saw only Chester Ragellan, the man who was making a
mockery of him.

It
would serve him right if we did hang him as a pirate king, Crofton thought.

How
he wanted to be the one to tighten the noose around the traitor’s neck, to
watch his face turn red, purple, and blue, to hear the snapping of his spine.
But there was a voice that he could just barely hear above the pounding of his
own heartbeat, a voice that reminded him the rogue knight
must
be
delivered
alive
to Superius. He
must not
kill Ragellan.

Growling
in frustration, the mayor leaped down from the scaffold and ran toward the
procession. “Stop, you fools! You’ve brought the wrong man!”

Crofton
Beryl pushed away Captain Brass, who had followed him and was trying to
convince him to return to the safety of the scaffold. The shove nearly sent the
captain to the ground.

“It’s
the Renegades,” he muttered, eyeing the throng with narrowed eyes. “They’re
behind this. Where are you hiding, you faceless cowards?”

He
was answered by a sudden surge of people swarming into the Square. All around
him, individuals were breaking away from the crowd, many of them shouting about
tyranny and injustice as they tried to unite the citizens of Port Town against
him. Many of them were armed with swords, knives, and clubs.

Everyone
else panicked, running every which way in an attempt to escape but succeeding
only in getting in the way. The soldiers began to form a circle around the
prisoner.

It
had finally come, Crofton realized. The rebellion in Port Town had finally
evolved into all-out war, just as
she
had predicted. But it was the
Renegades who had struck first, not him.

“Kill
them!” he shouted, drawing his sword. “Kill them all!”

Before
he could join the guards who were defending the prisoner, something at the back
of his mind made him pause. He glanced at the scaffold and saw that some
Renegades were tearing it apart, destroying the pole and crossbeam from which
the noose hung. Elezar was nowhere to be found, but at that moment, the mayor
cared nothing for the High Priest. His attention was suddenly fixed on one
Renegade whose presence eclipsed the chaos that had erupted in the Square.

There
was no doubt in the mayor’s mind that the beggar woman giving orders from atop
the scaffold was his daughter.

“I’ll
kill the bitch myself,” he swore, reversing direction and running past Harrod
Brass, who was barking orders to his men.

Crofton
Beryl forgot about Chester Ragellan and the pirate king, ignored the havoc all
around him. He saw only Leslie, the leader of the rebellion that had plagued
Port Town for too long—and therefore didn’t see the man whose path intersected
with his own at precisely the wrong moment.

The
two of them collided, and the impact sent them both men to the ground.

“Pardon
me,” the man mumbled, not even bothering to look at whom he had knocked over.

Crofton
glared at him. The man’s clothes were torn and covered with stains, and he
looked as though he hadn’t shaved in days. The mayor had no idea who he was,
nor did he care. As the man ran off, curiously heading
toward
the battle
rather than away, Crofton Beryl regained his sword and his footing.

He
looked back at the scaffold to find it ablaze. Leslie was nowhere to be seen.

Meanwhile,
the Square was packed with frightened people trapped between the soldiers and
the Renegades as well as a fire. Leslie could be anywhere in the confusion,
though the mayor wagered that she would be in the thick of the action, no doubt
trying to free the Renegade knight. He scanned the crowd and quickly located
his daughter.

A
jolt of pain lanced up his leg. He looked down to find a green-feathered arrow
protruded from his calf. Crofton fell to the street once more. Snarling, he
tore the shaft from his flesh, ignoring the agony and the cascade of blood that
followed. Another arrow planted itself into the road beside him.

He
was vulnerable, but he didn’t care. Before he could plunge into the battle,
however, a voice told him to flee.

“But
I’m so close!” the mayor pleaded. He could still see Leslie dueling with one of
the soldiers.

“No
good will come from her death if you die alongside her,” the voice argued.

Casting
one final look at Leslie, the mayor swore he would have his vengeance. Then he
fought his way through the crowd of frightened citizens, heading in the
direction of his mansion.

Passage XIV

Had
Ragellan known that the Renegades of Port Town were planning to interfere with
Pistol’s execution, he would have thought twice about switching places with the
man.

Thinking
the pirate king doomed, he had done what little he could to save him, buying
the man more time, if nothing else. Ragellan had hoped to make an escape during
the confusion that followed. As it was, the Renegades’ assault in the Square
gave Ragellan the perfect opportunity to flee.

His
hands were tied securely behind his back, and his head throbbed from the
beating the guards had given him, but he had managed to stay alert, watching
for his chance to slip out of the circle of guards surrounding him. The
soldiers were preoccupied with the Renegades charging toward them, completely
ignoring their prisoner…

Ragellan
knocked one of the guards to the ground by kicking him in the back. As the
guardsman pitched forward, several others realized the folly of their actions
and turned to face him. A desperate lunge saved Ragellan from being impaled on
one curved sword but left him off-balance. He drove his shoulder into the side
of one unsuspecting guard, using his momentum to push through the line of
soldiers.

He
pushed past other combatants, Renegades and soldiers alike, until an unsteady
step robbed him of his balance, and he came crashing down hard to the street.
Shaking away his dizziness, Ragellan rolled onto his back and found a single
soldier looming over him.

The
lone guard sneered and said, “I’m gonna execute you myself.”

Fighting
the urge to close his eyes, Ragellan tensed and prepared for the thrust that
would pierce his heart. Above the clamor, the knight heard someone shout, “No!”
Then a curved blade erupted from the chest of his would-be executor, spraying
the street with blood.

Ragellan
rolled to the side to avoid the falling body and then looked up at his savior.
He knew the man, but it took another second or two for him to place him as the
dark-haired pirate who had been sitting beside Plake in Oars and Omens when the
city guardsmen had arrived.

“Crooker?”
Ragellan asked, remembering the name Pistol had used.

“You’re
not Pistol!”

“Pistol
is still safe at the prison,” Ragellan explained. “Could you cut these ropes?”

Crooker
did as he was asked, cursing all the while. “This means I’m gonna have to try
to save him all over again.”

Ragellan
picked up the sword the dead soldier had dropped and deflected a stroke meant
for Crooker. The pirate turned and stabbed the city guardsman in the neck.

“Perhaps
we ought to free Pistol while these guards are busying themselves with
Renegades,” Ragellan suggested. “I know the way to the prison.”

Crooker’s
expression brightened. “Lead the way, friend!”

*
         
*
         
*

Leslie
lashed out with her cutlass, cutting through the sleeve of one of the soldiers
and leaving a trail of red behind. The man gasped and instinctively reached for
his injured arm. Keeping her sword up in case the soldier should counterattack,
Leslie used her free hand to break his nose with her fist.

To
her left, Maeve Semper guarded their flank, as the two of them fought their way
closer to the prisoner.

Leslie
had no idea how the rogue knight had managed to swap places with the pirate
king. She had never seen either Ragellan or Pistol in person, but the captive
that the soldiers had brought to the Square didn’t match Maeve’s description of
the pirate king, particularly since the prisoner had two functional eyes.

Unfortunately,
both she and Maeve had lost track of the rogue knight shortly after diving into
the fray. There were so many guardsmen Leslie feared Ragellan might already be
dead, but she wasn’t about to give up. She would not let her father have this
victory.

Two
more soldiers charged toward her, but Leslie turned in another direction,
closing in on where she had last seen Chester Ragellan.

Before
she was confronted by another guardsman, she caught a glimpse of Ragellan and
someone that looked an awful lot like Crooker running down the street. She
swung her blade in wide arcs, trying to provide herself with a clear opening,
but her opponent easily parried her wild swings and didn’t back off in the
least.

Out
of the corner of her eye, she saw Maeve Semper dispatch two more guards with
ease. Then Maeve was beside her once more, helping her drive off her foe.
Wisely, the man retreated. Neither Leslie nor Maeve pursued him.

“I
saw Ragellan and a pirate heading back in the direction of the prison,” she
told Maeve. “They’re probably going for Pistol.”

“They’ll
only get in other Renegade Leader’s way,” Maeve said.

Leslie
nodded. “I’ll go after them. You order the retreat. We’ve robbed the mayor of
his execution and have shown him that we won’t be pushed around anymore.
There’s no need for more deaths today.”

“I’ll
see you at Pintor’s Cup later tonight.” Maeve gave Leslie a quick salute before
heading back into the melee.

Sword
in hand, Leslie sprinted down the street, hoping she would catch up with
Ragellan and Crooker before they reached the prison. She felt terrible leaving
her Renegades in the midst of a battle, but she was confident Maeve Semper
could handle the retreat. The woman had once been a sergeant in the Three
Guards, after all.

And
after today, Leslie knew she would need to depend on Maeve more than ever.

*
         
*
         
*

Klye
and his men found only two soldiers in the lower level of the prison. The
guards must not have heard them coming, for they were unprepared for combat. He
and Scout made short work of them, rendering them unconscious, while Horcalus
and Plake watched their backs. Then all four of the Renegades began searching
the row of cells for Chester Ragellan.

Horcalus
grabbed a torch and peered between bars of one cell. “Maybe you ought to have
left one of the guards awake so he could tell us where Ragellan is.”

Klye’s
rapid search of the cells had already led him down to the end of the hallway,
calling out Ragellan’s name all the while. Doubt began to assail him. Could Scout
have been wrong? Maybe Ragellan was on another floor. Maybe he wasn’t even
being kept in the prison.

“You’re
here for the rogue knight?”

The
query had come from the last cell, and Klye called for Horcalus to bring the
torch. Plake and Scout followed. The four of them looked through the bars to
find a single man returning their gaze.

“Who
the hell are you?” Plake demanded.

“I’m
Pistol, the pirate king…well,
former
pirate king, I s’pose.”

“Where
is Ragellan?” Horcalus shouted. Were it not for the bars, Klye thought Horcalus
might have grabbed the pirate by the neck.

Pistol
approached the bars. He had large bags under his eyes—or, at least, the eye
that wasn’t covered by a patch—but other than that, he looked healthy enough.
As the pirate king spoke, Klye tried to open the cell door with one key after
another from the ring he had procured from one of the unconscious guards.

“Ragellan
tricked the guards into takin’ him to my execution. Don’t know why he did it.
You must be his friends, huh?”

“Ragellan
is at the City Square?” Horcalus’s voice was so faint Klye almost didn’t hear
him.

“If
he’s at the Square, then Leslie will help him,” Klye promised as he continued
to tinker with the keys.

If
he still had his lock-picking tools, Klye knew he would have been able to open
the door in seconds. Finally, the lock gave a satisfying click, and Klye pushed
the door open. “You might as well come with us,” he told Pistol. “Leslie may
show up at the rendezvous. She’ll want to make sure you’re all right.”

The
pirate king shrugged as he walked out of the cell. “Sure beats rottin’ in a
prison cell.”

“How
are we going to get out of here?” Plake demanded, and no sooner had he posed
the question than the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the stairs at
the other end of the hall. “We’re cornered!”

“Maybe
I’d be better off in the cell,” Pistol laughed, running over to a fallen guard
and stripping him of his sword.

Plake
repeating the same four-letter word over and over again. The rancher was
afraid, and he had good reason to be, thought Klye. There were at least twenty
soldiers between them and freedom.

“Any
ideas?” Klye asked Scout.

“I’m
thinking…”

There’s
always a way out, Klye reasoned as he desperately looked around. Trying to
fight their way up the stairs was pure folly—literally, an uphill battle. But
what other choice did they have?

Never
had Klye felt so helpless. Had he really led them all to their deaths? He had
been gambling with their lives since before they left Superius. Perhaps he had
pressed his luck too far. Not that he believed in luck.

He
could see the shadows of the soldiers by the stairs. Klye had faced death
plenty of times in the past, but he had never experienced the fear he felt now.
Maybe it was because he finally had something to live for, a purpose other than
his own greed. At least, thought Klye, if I perish now, it will prove that I’m
no pawn of the gods, as Ragellan believes.

“Here
they come,” Plake said with an audible gulp. “Maybe we should surrender.”

“There
is another way.”

Klye
knew that voice. He turned around and found the wall behind radiating a bright
light. A man stood in the center of it.

“Who
is that?” Horcalus asked, taking a step back.

“Please
don’t speak my name,” Elezar warned. “The soldiers are near enough that they
might hear. My coming was not without risk.”

“How
did you get here?” Plake demanded. “You
are
an enchanter!”

“More
importantly, how are we getting out?” Klye asked.

The
first few guards reached the bottom of the stairs, though they paused when the
saw the glowing wall.

“There
is another way,” the High Priest repeated in a whisper. “It’s a way so many
people overlook.”

Elezar
stepped back into the wall and was swallowed up by the light.

*
         
*
         
*

 
“Crooker! Ragellan! Stop!”

Ragellan
turned to see who was calling their names and found a lone woman running after
them. “Do you know her?”

Crooker
stopped and squinted into the distance. “I think it’s…yeah, that’s Leslie
Beryl, the Renegade Leader. Should we wait for her?”

“We
had better,” said Ragellan, keeping a tight grip on his stolen sword. “She may
know where my friends are.”

When
she reached them, Leslie ushered them down a side street.

“We’re
on our way to rescue Pistol,” Crooker told her. “Wanna come?”

“There’s
no need for that,” Leslie said. “Klye and the others were planning to free you,
Ragellan, while my Renegades saved Pistol. If I found you, they’ve probably
already stumbled onto Pistol. Come on, I’ll take you to the rendezvous.”

Ragellan
didn’t know how much he should trust Leslie Beryl, but Klye had seemed
confident enough that the woman wouldn’t betray them. Anyway, what she said
made sense, and it wouldn’t do for him to get captured all over again.

“If
Pistol’s gonna be there, then I’m comin’ too,” Crooker announced.

“Great,”
said Leslie, a bit breathlessly, “I’ll lead the way.”

As
he followed Port Town’s Renegade Leader up one street and down another,
Ragellan prayed that he would find all of the others safe and waiting for him
at the end of the trail. It seemed like ages since they were all together.

*
         
*
         
*

Without
hesitation, Klye, Horcalus, Scout, Plake, and Pistol followed Elezar into the
dazzling white light.

As
he was enveloped by the radiance, Klye felt his worries melt away. It didn’t
make sense, but it didn’t have to. It felt unspeakably good to relinquish
control. His life was in the old priest’s hands now. Strangely, the feeling of
powerlessness reminded him of when he had volunteered to go to Fort Faith in
the first place.

As
he placed one foot in front of the other, Klye heard Plake laugh and say, “A
secret passage…how original!”

When
Klye could see once more, he realized that they were back on the streets with
the rear wall of the prison behind them. He didn’t recall walking up an
incline, so how was it they were once more at ground level? Klye tried to
reason it out, but he couldn’t. The logic that had served him throughout his
life was of no help in this.