The Keeper Chronicles: The Complete Trilogy

by JA Andrews

  Ilsa stood with her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide, her other hand clenching the rag to her stomach.

  “I’m so sorry.” Will almost opened up toward her, but he couldn’t tell if it was hatred or hope in her eyes, and if it was the former, the feel of it might kill him.

  Footsteps rang out and Sora spun toward the door.

  “Will can pluck memories out of your mind,” Killien’s voice came from the hall. “He knows exactly what you want to hear. Don’t believe anything the man says.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  A wave of relief washed across Ilsa’s face, fueling the rage growing in Will. He turned to see Killien standing in the doorway, his silver seax unsheathed, his face burning with the anger that always filled him. Behind him two servants stood, their swords drawn as well.

  “No, I can’t,” Will said, fighting to stay calm. “I’ve never even heard of anyone who could pluck memories from your mind.”

  “So it’s just emotions you can read?” Killien asked.

  The words caught at him, leaving him feeling exposed, like fingers pulling open his cloak and letting the chill of the cave seep in against his skin. It hadn’t taken Hal long to fill Killien in. “Yes I can read people’s emotions. If I try.”

  Ilsa’s eyes were on him, wide with disbelief. When he met her gaze she stumbled back against the ledge.

  “Everyone’s?” Killien asked, a tight curiosity in his voice.

  Will nodded, ignoring Sora’s small huff. Killien didn’t ask the real question. “It’s not like magic that can be countered. I can just feel people’s emotions all the time. Unless I work to close myself off. It’s like an extra sense. I can see you, hear you, smell you, and feel what you’re feeling.” He glanced at Ilsa’s pale face. “But I’m not doing it now.”

  Killien studied him, his anger seething into coldness. “A useful skill.”

  “Sometimes,” Will answered. “But in normal life, people express their emotions clearly enough for anyone to see.”

  Killien shook his head. “Everyone has secrets.”

  “Maybe.” Will shrugged. “But you’d be surprised how hard it is to suss out a secret based purely on emotions.”

  Killien stepped into the room, and the two slaves blocked the door. “I’m sorry I left you alone, Ilsa.” Killien walked past Will and Sora without a glance. Sora kept her gaze fixed on the two armed servants. Ilsa was still backed up against the ledge, gripping the rag so tightly tendons stood out on the back of her hands. “I had a suspicion the Keeper would reappear, but I didn’t think he’d follow us here.

  “There is no reason you need to be subjected to whatever lies he’s spun,” Killien continued calmly, motioning to the nearest door. “You don’t have to stay. You’re welcome to wait in the other room while Will and I finish something we should have finished long ago.”

  She hesitated a moment, the rag still clutched in her hand. She fixed her eyes on Will as though expecting him to lunge at her, or as though she finally saw a horrible monster she’d never believed was real. Her expression lit a mixture of gut-wrenching pain and rage in him.

  “Ilsa—” Will stepped forward, desperate to get that look off her face.

  Killien brought his sword up and leveled it at Will’s chest, the Torch’s face frigid and controlled. “No more talking to her.”

  At the coldness in Killien’s words, a flicker of something crossed Ilsa’s face, but she ducked her head, and hurried into one of the side rooms before Will could figure out what it was. The door shut behind her with a grim finality.

  “The sword that you said was too serious for a mere fight.” Will motioned to Killien’s blade. “Should I feel honored that you’re using it against me?” The blade was rougher than he’d expected, more primitive. The handle was sanded wood, the blade pockmarked near the hilt. The runes carved into the blade were roughly made. Naj. “What does Naj mean?”

  Killien ignored the question. He motioned to one of the slaves. “Bind them.”

  When it was done, he ordered them to stand guard at the door. “You picked a very bad time to come back, Will. I only have a short time. Hal and the slaves are holding the Torches, but I need to return.”

  Will searched for a hint of the man he’d thought Killien was, but found barely any resemblance. “What happened to you, Killien?” The ropes dug into Will’s wrists.

  The Torch paced across the small room to where Ilsa had stood. “Where’s my book?”

  “Far away.”

  “Why aren’t you far away? You’d escaped. And then…you came back.”

  “I couldn’t leave my sister under the control of a man like you.”

  Killien spun to face Will. “I have been nothing but generous to that woman. As has Lilit.”

  “She’s lived as a slave her entire life because of you,” Will flung at him. “And you’re using her to control me. What happens if you suddenly latch on to the mad idea that she’s a threat to the Morrow? Then anything’s acceptable, right? You can suck the life out of her as a demonstration of your power, without a second thought.”

  “That man”—Killien slammed his hand down and shoved off the ledge, coming face to face with Will—“killed my father.”

  Rage burst up from somewhere old and chained, a place that had smoldered for twenty years. He leaned forward until his face almost touched Killien’s.

  “You killed mine.” Will’s heartbeat pounded in his head, almost drowning out every other sound. “You sent Vahe to sneak into my home like a coward.”

  Killien pushed him back and looked away dismissively. “And if you’d ever had the chance to kill me, you would have. Grand ideas of peace evaporate very quickly in the face of a chance to make your enemy pay.”

  The memory of Lilit on the floor of the stifling tent, her life bleeding out into the ground rushed into Will’s mind. Her vitalle weak, dying like old embers.

  Will thought of Killien’s face, his desperation that night. “You’re blind.”

  The Torch’s face twisted in anger and he raised his sword.

  “Killien.” Sora sounded tired. “Stop acting like Will is something you know he’s not.”

  Killien’s sword froze and he turned toward her. He studied her for a long moment before letting out a harsh laugh. “It’s all true, isn’t it? You decided to help Will, and from that moment, everything he tried succeeded. He escaped me. He convinced Hal to help him.” Killien raked his fingers through his hair. “He escaped a dragon.”

  The Torch shook his head and paced the room. Sora watched him, her face stony.

  “I hadn’t thought it was true, Sora, but you are actually blessed.” He stopped in front of her, staring her in the face. “Until the night Lilit almost died, I doubted. But the cursed part is coming true too, isn’t it?”

  Sora’s eyes hardened.

  “You’ve come to care about Will.” Killien considered Will for a long moment. “And here he is, at my mercy.”

  Will held his gaze. Beside him, Sora’s breath quickened.

  “I met hunters from your clan. They told me how you held the power of life and death. How you passed on judgment from the Serpent Queen to your people.”

  Will didn’t need to open up towards Sora to recognize the fury growing in her.

  Killien continued, his tone low and inexorable, “How being close to you was to court death…They told me about your little friend.”

  She flinched.

  “They told me about your mother…”

  Next to him, Sora’s shoulders strained against her bonds as she stared at the floor.

  “I didn’t believe them. It took me a long time to see what you really are,” Killien said, his voice dripping with disgust.

  “Sora,” Will said.

  She kept her face down, her shoulders drawn in.

  “Sora, please look at me.”

  She turned enough that she could just meet his eyes.

  “He doesn’t see you,” Will said, leaning forward to hold her g
aze. “There’s no truth to what he’s saying. He only sees what he wants.”

  “On the contrary, Will.” Killien leaned back, satisfied. “I think I’m truly seeing her for the first time. I should thank you, Sora, for keeping yourself so distant from the people in my clan. And from me.”

  She closed her eyes and started to turn away.

  “I see you, Sora,” Will said, and she twitched to a stop.

  She stood frozen. He could see her brow drawn and her lips pressed together. She stared at the ground, her face hollow.

  “I see you,” he repeated. “You are intelligent and strong and independent and kind.” She didn’t move. “And a little bossy.”

  She twitched at the word, a flicker of surprise crossing her face, clearing out the haunted look.

  “There is no power that controls you and kills those you love. It’s not the truth. It’s just people grasping for power.”

  A spark of anger kindled in her eyes.

  “You didn’t go to Lilit because some distant goddess made you, you went for the same reason I did, because she was dying. You knew there was nothing you could do, but you went anyway, because of your own humanity.”

  Sora met his gaze. Her brow was drawn, but there was a resolve in her eyes.

  “She’s cursed!” Killien spat the words at them.

  “Don’t be stupid.” Will was suddenly exhausted by everything. “And leave Sora alone. Your fight’s with me.”

  Outrage flashed over Killien’s features. “She betrayed me!” He lifted his blade to point at her. “After everything I did for you for three years, you helped Will escape. You helped him steal from me.”

  She stepped forward until the sword pressed against her neck. “You betrayed me. You took what I told you, the thing I hated most, and you used it against me.” Her face was a mask of fury. “I told you the truth. I have no powers. I did nothing.”

  “Lilit was dying,” Killien flung back at her. “If you have no powers, what saved my wife?”

  Sora pressed against the blade, forming the next word slowly. “Will.”

  Killien’s eyes flicked to Will, drawing the sword back slightly.

  “I did nothing but pray that the Serpent Queen would take her quickly.” Sora’s eyes burned with hatred at him. “I told you there was nothing I could do. But Will stopped her bleeding. Your wife lives because of him.”

  Killien cast a harsh glance at Will. “Is this true?”

  Will stared at him without answering.

  “If it had depended on me,” Sora said. “Lilit would have bled out onto the ground.”

  “Why?” Killien’s voice was still harsh, his blade still at Sora’s throat.

  “Because she was dying.” Will wanted to shake the man.

  Killien kept his sword at Sora’s neck, but his eyes shifted to Will.

  “Because Sora wanted to, but couldn’t. And I could.” He paused, the chaos of the night coming back to him. Killien kneeling on the ground, desperate. “Also, because I believed we were friends.”

  Killien took a step backwards, his head shaking back and forth, his face a turmoil of anger and uncertainty.

  “Lilit knows it’s true,” Sora said.

  Killien dropped his sword to his side and he turned toward the window. A goblin screeched far below.

  “You have to stop this, Killien,” Will said. “Call off the goblins. Your father strove to bring peace to the Sweep. You’re…”

  Killien’s face darkened.

  Will searched again for the face he knew, but instead of finding intelligence and discernment, he saw only something raw and feral. Killien wore the same leathers. The same collection of gems glittered in rune-covered rings. But he found nothing familiar in his face.

  Will felt unmoored. Like a leaf torn off the branch and tossed into the swirling winds. How could he talk to a man he didn’t know at all?

  “You can’t convince me to be like you,” Killien said.

  “I’m not trying to. I’m trying to convince you to act on what you already believe.”

  The door to the room opened and Lukas stepped in, his customary scowl replaced by a look of satisfaction, wiping a needle-thin dagger with a cloth spattered with blackish-green stains. Sora stiffened and shifted slightly to face him.

  Will’s breath caught in his throat. For an instant, in Lukas's face he saw all the possibilities of what Lukas could have been. Raised by his family, brought to the Keepers, trained to use his powers. He’d have lived at the Stronghold for the last fifteen years.

  A gaping void opened up inside Will. Lukas would have been another Alaric, another brother.

  Lukas hesitated, taking in the room and his knuckles whitened on the handle of the knife. Will had always hated the grey slave’s tunics, but the sight of it now was like a stab in the gut. Lukas should have been wearing a black Keeper’s robe. Lukas stepped forward, his jarring limp a symbol of the life he must have lived. Unlike Ilsa, Lukas must remember everything. They took him when he was eleven. He knew what he’d lost.

  Guilt churned in Will’s stomach.

  The Keepers should have known. He’d known twenty years ago wayfarers were taking children, and yet he’d done nothing. It should have been Will in Lukas's town, not Vahe. It should have been the Keepers who found him and protected him. The wrongness, the failure was so foundational and so permanent, Will shrank back.

  He couldn’t help feeling that he had utterly failed this man. The Keepers had utterly failed him.

  “Killien,” Lukas said, all traces of servitude gone from him, “it seems you’re being haunted by a Keeper.”

  He tossed the damp rag into a corner and shoved the knife into a sheath at his belt, limping toward Killien, grimacing tightly at each step. Will’s eyes were fixed on him, each step tearing something out of him. “It is done.”

  “Good.” Killien showed no surprise at the slave’s demeanor. Lukas set one hand on Killien’s shoulder and blew out a short breath, pressing his eyes shut, the grimace draining off his face.

  Will opened his mouth to say something, but no words came. Lukas glanced at Will with an expression of hatred.

  “The bulk of the goblins should be here by now,” Lukas said, stretching to see out the window.

  “Call them off,” Will said. “Stop the massacre, Killien.”

  It was Lukas who answered, “This isn’t Queensland where you mindlessly follow your queen. On the Sweep power goes to the strong. Those frost goblins are crippling the powerful clans. In a few hours the balance of the Sweep will shift to the Morrow.”

  “In a few hours,” Killien corrected him, “every clan will have a voice.”

  Irritation flickered across Lukas's face, but he said nothing.

  “And thousands of Roven, who want nothing more than to return home to their families,” Will said, taking a half step forward, “will be dead.”

  “Let me guess, Keeper.” Lukas's mouth twisted in contempt at the word. “You’re against fighting.”

  “No. In fact, I’d gladly join any fight on the side of the oppressed.”

  “We are the oppressed, Will.” Killien threw the words at him. “The Sunn and the Boan demand our barley, our herds, our warriors, and all under the threat of annihilation. We are the ones fighting the oppressors.”

  “You were,” Will said, his frustration boiling up into anger. “And you wanted to fight back with ideas that could actually change the Sweep. But now that you have power, you’ve become one of them. And today if I want to fight the oppressor, I have to fight you.”

  “Oppressor? The night the Panos attacked we caught them trying to steal my son.” The raw, feral look in his eye caught at Will like claws raking into his chest.

  A man poised over a child—the image loosed a deluge of anguish and fury.

  In that moment he recognized what he saw in Killien’s face— the same hatred Will had carried for years. It hadn’t started as hatred. It had begun with the terror that someone he loved was being hurt. But that
terror gnawed down deep enough that it took root, and a savage hatred grew.

  It wasn’t the foreignness of the hatred in Killien that was so terrible. It was how profoundly Will recognized it.

  The mirrored feelings in himself clawed their way to the surface, and he wanted desperately to push them away, to close himself off to Killien. But he couldn’t ignore how much he understood them. Instead of pushing it all away, he faced it.

  “I know what you want,” Will whispered. “I know the terror and the guilt.”

  Killien’s face grew hard and savage.

  “And I know the hatred that grows from it.”

  “They must pay.”

  The words rang true and familiar. Killien’s eyes glittered with a new sort of ferocity, and Will stopped keeping that at a distance, stopped looking for what he wanted to find in the man. “You want to rip away everything they love.”

  Something vulnerable joined the viciousness in Killien’s expression, opened it up. Will grasped for that opening, letting his own rawness meet Killien’s.

  “You want to rip it all away and make him watch it bleed out on the ground.” Killien’s desire to control the frost goblins blazed up in Will, and he knew that hunger. He wanted the chance to release them on Vahe, tear the man apart.

  Except, of course, it couldn’t end with Vahe. Will followed the hatred in himself forward to Killien and the fire faded.

  “At least you want to, until you ride over the Sweep with him, and learn who he is.”

  Killien’s jaw clenched.

  “He talks of things you love. He’s married to a woman and every time she is near he’s useless for anything else. He has friends who respect him, a clan that needs his leadership, and a son who needs a father.”

  Killien’s eyes stayed fixed on Will.

  “But there’s more than that. Somewhere along the way you realize you understand him. You recognize the things about him that you respect as things you strive for yourself. And you recognize the darkness in him too, because the same anger has lived for decades inside of you, demanding to be recognized.

  “One day you realize that a Keeper from Queensland and a Roven Torch aren’t foreign to each other. Then the hatred starts to cool into something different. Something more complicated. And you’re left with…more than you had. A tangle of things that feels like anger and failure, but also friendship.”