Renegade Heart (6 page)

Back at the renegade encampment Wolf put the band at more than fifty strong. Since the hunting party had returned with Wolf, the camp had been divided into two factions. On one side were those for whom being the son of a renegade was good enough reason to welcome him with open arms. On the other were those not prepared to trust quite so readily. He had, after all, been raised in the city and trained as a cadet. And, until meeting Tregaar, he had known nothing of who his father was, leading some of the men to question where his loyalty lay.

While the argument raged back and forth, Wolf sat on a fallen tree trunk, flanked by armed guards. He could not blame them for their caution, but as he listened to the debate swing first one way and then the other, he was aware of the precariousness of his situation.

Finally, the band broke up and Tregaar came over to where Wolf waited patiently. He motioned the guards away and sat beside Wolf on the tree trunk.

“You have much to prove,” he said. “Those of us who remember your father would be proud to have his son among us. Others cannot see beyond the uniform you wear.”

“So what will happen to me?”

“You can stay,” Tregaar told him. “But you will be watched. You are not to move around camp without a chaperone and you must not try and leave. Are the terms clear?”

“Yes.” Wolf was surprised at how relieved he felt. He had not realised until that point just how much he wanted the renegades to take him in.

“Good.” Tregaar seemed pleased. “Now that’s settled I can tell you about your father.”

Wolf nodded, eager to know where he had come from.

“His name was Joweck,” Tregaar began. “We grew up in the same village and were the best of friends. Then, at twelve turns, we went to the Walled City and became cadets. I can see that surprises you, but we were raised to be loyal to the king and we never thought of any course other than becoming soldiers.”

“So what changed?”

“Nothing for a long while.” Tregaar shrugged. “We did our training, joined the King’s Army and everything was fine. Then one day, our regiment was ordered to lay waste to a village suspected of sympathising with the renegades. It was our village; our families and friends they expected us to murder. So Joweck and I deserted. We found a small renegade band and within a little less than two turns Joweck had become our leader. A few turns later, a man stumbled into our camp. We recognised him from our village and Joweck accepted him without question. But he betrayed us and led the King’s Army straight to our camp. In the battle, Joweck, your father, was mortally wounded. It was only on his death bed that he told us of his love for a woman in one of the villages and how he had sired a son. With his dying breath he begged me to take care of the child.”

“Me?” Wolf realised he had been holding his breath while Tregaar talked. There was so much to take in. His father, first a soldier and then a renegade leader; a brave and generous man, betrayed by one of his own. “What of my mother?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know. Her name was Selioza, we discovered that much.” Tregaar sighed heavily. “We went to the village in search of you, but they were simple country folk and in fear for their lives. Nobody would admit to having the bastard child of a renegade under their roof when it was punishable by death. Saker heard of a family who fled into the forest when we arrived in the village. Perhaps they mistook us for troopers. Even then, it was King’s Law that a child born out of wedlock must go the orphanage.”

“I ended up there anyway,” Wolf reminded him.

“True enough. But now you are returned to us and we fulfil the promise we made your father.”

Wolf looked up at him, startled by a sudden memory. “Alganoor knew.”

“Alganoor? The Cadet Master? What did he tell you?”

“He said I had renegade blood in my veins. It was Alganoor who told me to escape and find you.”

Tregaar nodded. “He knew your father well and your resemblance to Joweck is strong. But you said
knew
? Do you mean to say Alganoor has passed?”

“They say I killed him, but I didn’t. He clutched his chest and fell. I would never have hurt him. He was my only friend.”

“Have no fear, boy. I believe you.” Tregaar clapped his hand to Wolf’s shoulder before he looked him up and down distastefully. “Now, let’s get you out of that accursed uniform and at least make you look like a renegade.”

S
ummer was in full bloom. Enola had grown into a beautiful young woman, but there remained an aloofness about her that caused Magnosa concern. The girl was like a daughter to her and, in return, Enola loved Magnosa like a mother. She treated the girls like sisters and they adored her for her sweet nature and endearing innocence.

But she had no friends outside of the whore house and no interest in trying to find a husband. Magnosa knew the girl still harboured hopes that Wolf would one day return for her. Although she seldom mentioned his name anymore, she always listened attentively whenever the girls repeated stories they had heard about the renegades.

Magnosa often worried that Enola, having spent her life, first in the orphanage and then the whore house, would be incapable of fending for herself in the outside world. Which was why she was unsure how the girl would react to the proposal she was about to make.

She found Enola in the parlour, working her magic on a length of red silk as she created a new gown for Taola. Magnosa settled opposite her and admired her skill. As always, when complimented, Enola blushed and hid her face in her work.

“You have heard the girls speak of Yalista at the outpost?” Magnosa asked gently.

“Of course,” Enola replied. “She is the wife of the stores master. The girls say she is nice to them. She took care of Eija after that trooper beat her.”

“That’s her,” Magnosa interrupted before the girl could steer her of course. “Well, she is greatly impressed with the dresses you sew for the girls.”

“That’s nice,” Enola said, but a wary note had crept into her voice and her needle had stilled in the silk. She kept her eyes on the half-finished garment, waiting for Magnosa to shatter her secure little life.

“She would welcome you at the outpost to design some gowns for her and the other wives.”

“You mean leave the whore house?” Enola was incredulous. She looked at Magnosa through big, brown eyes that were wide and filled with hurt. “Don’t you want me to live here anymore?”

“My child, I would not be without you. You know I think of you as a daughter and this is your home. This is but a favour for a friend and she will pay you good coin. Once you have measured the ladies and designed their gowns you will return to the city.”

Reluctantly, Enola nodded her consent, although she was not happy. The choice had been made for her. If Magnosa wanted her to go then there would be no way out of it. She had no memory of life beyond the city walls. She was a home loving girl, content to spend her days cooking, cleaning and sewing for those she regarded as family and she had no desire to leave, even for a short while.

“Think of it as an adventure,” Magnosa said brightly. “You are sixteen turns now, Enola. You need to realise there is more to life than being here with me. Who knows, you might even enjoy it.”

The renegades swept out of the forest in an unstoppable wave and galloped down the hill, spreading out to surround the wagon. The four man guard, realising they did not have the speed to outrun the outlaws or the manpower to fight their way out, called upon the driver to halt the wagon. The renegades circled them, keeping their swords sheathed as they eyed the women with interest.

“I am Sergeant Nerrad,” One of the soldiers addressed the Renegades. “I assure you, we carry nothing of value.”

“Nothing of value requires four troopers?” Tregaar queried scornfully.

“I fear you do your job too well. Travellers leaving the city ask for escort more and more.” Nerrad gestured towards the wagon. “You can see for yourself, our current cargo consists only of whores on route to the outpost at Talibur.”

“Then I have an offer for you, Sergeant,” Tregaar said amiably. “My men have been several months without a woman. There are twenty of us and five whores. That’s four men each. You allow my men some time with your whores and we will allow you to continue on your way unharmed.”

Nerrad glanced at his troopers and shrugged. Four soldiers against twenty renegades were not good odds and none of them were willing to sacrifice their lives for the sake of a few whores. The women would not be expected to do anything they had not done before except maybe give it away for free. He turned back to the renegade leader.

“I agree to your terms.”

Tregaar nodded, satisfied. “Half of my men will take the women into the trees. The other half will stay with the wagon.”

Wolf hung back from the group wishing he did not have to be involved. He remembered the kindness of the whores in helping him escape the city two turns before and he wanted no part in using them against their will now. But the other men already teased him daily because of his youth. He could imagine their amusement should they discover he had never had a woman.

Suddenly he saw her. His Enola aboard a whore wagon, bound for the outpost to service any number of the King’s Army. Crazed with jealousy, Wolf spurred his horse forward, forcing his way through the other renegades.

“Hey,” one of them objected. “Why should the pup get first pick?”

In one swift move Wolf drew his sword, evoking cries of outrage from his comrades. It was a grievous insult, he knew, to draw a blade against his friends and comrades, but all he could think about was getting Enola out of reach of their rough hands and lecherous stares. “Nobody touches her!”

He plucked Enola from the wagon, pulling her across his saddle before turning his horse and racing away. A few of the renegades set off in hot pursuit, but were quickly called to heel by Tregaar.

“Let the boy have his fun,” he said. “I’ll make sure he pays for his actions later.”

Once in the forest and out of sight of the wagon and the Renegades, Wolf slowed the horse to a trot. As yet, he had not uttered one word to Enola. He rode with grim determination, his lips set in an angry thin line. Eventually, they reached a clearing and Wolf set her down. He dismounted and tethered the horse to a tree, took his bedroll from the saddle and unrolled it on the ground.

Enola gasped as he grabbed her roughly and pulled her to him. His kiss, like his expression, was hard and furious. Confused and frightened, Enola twisted away from him. Wolf dragged her back and threw her onto the bedroll. He cast aside his tunic to reveal a lean but muscular torso and then he fell upon her, his rough hands everywhere.

“Wolf, please,” Enola cried out as she struggled against him. “I haven’t… I’ve never…”

He pulled back, his sapphire blue eyes clouded with sudden doubt. “But you’re a whore.”

“I’m not. I’m still just the maid. A seamstress too, I suppose. I was going to the outpost to make dresses for the wives there.”

Wolf sat up and turned his back on her, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. He had come so close to hurting her. A few moments more and he would have done something unforgiveable. Enola would have hated him for ever and he would only have had himself to blame. “I thought…”

Enola sat up too and laid her head on his shoulder. Her fingers lighted stroked his bare skin and he shuddered at her touch. “I have loved you since we were five turns old,” she whispered softly. “If I must do this with anyone, I would only ever want it to be with you.”

He lowered his hands, turning back to face her. When he took hold of her again his touch was gentle and his kisses tentative and tender. Peeling off her bodice he took time to kiss and caress her naked breasts. When he knelt between her thighs and unlaced his breeches she was ready for him. With the slightest of hesitation, afraid of hurting her, he entered her. Enola’s arms snaked around his neck as if trying to draw him in further and he responded with long deep thrusts, each one extracting a low moan of pleasure from her throat. With a cry, he emptied himself inside her and hid his face in her neck. Enola felt wetness on her throat and realised he was weeping. She lay beneath him, stroking his hair and murmuring soothing words into his ear until he was done.

From somewhere in the forest they heard a shout as Tregaar rallied his renegades. Wolf got to his feet and fastened his breeches while Enola rearranged her skirts and bodice. The bedroll was reattached to the saddle and he helped her up onto his horse before climbing up behind her. He leaned forward to whisper in her ear.

“One day I will come back for you.”

Slowly they rode back to the wagon where the renegades waited impatiently. The whores were already aboard the wagon, exhausted and dishevelled, but none of them seeming particularly distressed by their ordeal.

“Here comes the whelp,” one of the renegades called out. “Took him as long to pleasure one woman as it took the rest of us to pleasure four.”

“Garstan, that says more about you than it does me,” Wolf retorted as he reined in his horse.

The renegades laughed loudly. Garstan delighted in taunting the boy and they enjoyed it immensely whenever Wolf outwitted him. As Wolf lifted Enola from his saddle his lingering touch was not lost on the other men.

“Oh, wonderful,” Garstan cackled. “The lad beds one whore and he thinks he’s in love.”

“Hold your tongue,” Tregaar snapped. Most of the band had, at some point, left a woman behind. Some of the men had children they would not live to see grow up. He would not see the boy mocked for experiencing his first taste of love. “Wolf, say your goodbyes and let’s go.”

“Wolf?” Sergeant Nerrad regarded the young renegade with renewed interest. “I know you. There remains a price on your head for the murder of Alganoor.”

Instinctively, his hand went to the hilt of his sword before he remembered the troopers were outnumbered five to one.

Tregaar leaned forward in his saddle, no longer in such an amiable mood. “You think I should hand him over to you?”

“In light of the favour we did you with the whores…”

“If you hadn’t given them to us we would have killed you and taken them anyway,” Tregaar burst out angrily. “As for the boy being a murderer, there are many among us who have killed. We’re renegades, Sergeant. Outlaws. Every one of us has a price on our heads. And yet, for all our villainy, we would never hand over one of our own to the likes of you.”

In unison the renegades unsheathed their swords and the troopers were once again reminded of their position. Tregaar signalled his band to put away their weapons. He had no desire to shed the blood of the troopers. It was enough just to see the fear in their faces when they thought the renegades were about to turn on them.

“Take your whores and go,” he said to Nerrad. “Do not let out paths cross again.”

He wheeled his horse around and galloped away with the renegades close behind. Wolf gave a last desperate look at Enola and then followed his band. The renegades vanished into the trees and the troopers sagged with relief in their saddles, aware they were lucky to escape with their lives.