Keeper of the Books (Keeper of the Books, Book 1)

by Jason D. Morrow

  Marum was really the only one who needed to fear. No one would recognize Nate, but apparently most people in these parts had a disdain for gray elves. So much so that it wouldn’t be improbable for someone to attack them on sight. Marum kept the horse on the edge of the road in case she needed to dart through the woods and disappear suddenly.

  But these events brought questions to Nate’s mind. “So,” he said, “if people around here aren’t friendly to gray elves, what’s your story? How is it the three of you are friends?”

  “That is a long and good story,” Alban said. “Once upon a time I was part of the Crimson Army. Rachel wasn’t more than five or six. Iris, my wife, took care of her whenever I was away. Anyway, during that time there was a push from the ravagers from the south, and the Crimson Army required the aid of the gray elves to help stave them off.”

  “Ravagers?” Nate asked.

  “Terrible creatures,” Alban said solemnly. “They are a lot like humans, but evil and twisted. Their skin and hair are cotton white and they cut off the tips of their noses at birth.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  Alban shook his head. “To add to their savagery. They don’t like to speak the common tongue, but can if they are made to. A lot of people don’t believe it, but the ravagers eat their victims if they are hungry enough.”

  “Oh, father, that’s not true,” Rachel said.

  “I wish it weren’t true, my darling. But I’ve seen it.” Alban shook his head. “Anyway, it was a time when the gray elves and man actually worked together for a mutual benefit and it was good. Since the gray elves were up here, there were some who camped near my home. I became friends with Marum and Droman’s father in battle.” Alban sighed and waited a few moments before continuing. “Eventually, and some might say inevitably, there was a conflict between the men and gray elves. We had fought off the ravagers, but that wasn’t enough. A lot of the gray elves wanted to stay here up north where they had been fighting for so long, but the president at the time didn’t want them to. He tried to push them out and there was resistance. So, during the backlash, Marum’s father left Marum and Droman with me and Iris. Marum’s parents were killed in the struggle and the two young gray elves were left with us to live until they were older.”

  Nate looked behind him. “How long did you live there?”

  “Until about seven years ago,” Marum answered from the horse. “Droman became extreme and saw for himself what men of that time had done to us—that men had turned their backs on the gray elves. After all that time we’d spent fighting beside each other.”

  “It was tragic,” Alban said. “Long story short, Droman is one of the most feared and wanted people in Galamore. He’s raised a small army against the president. And you,” he said, looking at Nate with a smile, “happened to rescue his sister from a most terrible fate. There is no doubt he will be in your debt.”

  “If you were caught by Droman,” Marum said, “more than likely it would mean death rather than torture then death.” She smiled. “A bit of mercy.”

  “Sounds like a nice guy,” Nate said.

  “I don’t think he’s evil,” Alban said. “There is a lot of anger in him against men. A lot of anger against most people groups in Galamore.”

  Nate didn’t say it, but he thought that maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if this Droman character was killed. He looked back at Marum. “So, why’d they want to kill you?”

  “To draw my brother out,” Marum said. “President DalGaard sent messenger birds to Gray Elf Country that I was to be executed on yesterday’s date. That is why I thought you might have been sent by my brother to help me.”

  Nate turned away from her and stared ahead as they crawled along the road at a slow pace. The unspoken observation was that Droman had done nothing to help his sister. Each of them were silent for several long minutes after this part of the conversation. No one wanted to speculate as to why her brother hadn’t at least tried to negotiate a release.

  Nate thought about what he would do in that situation. He couldn’t think of a person in the world for which he would give up his life, except maybe Joe. If Nate had gotten word that someone was about to hang his little brother unless he turned himself in, Nate would undoubtedly march to whatever town it was and offer up his life.

  He shook his head at the thought. He wouldn’t offer up his life. He would go in with guns blazing. He always kept enough money back to hire fighters for such an occasion. He would go into the town, fire bullets into whoever threatened him, get Joe, and get out of there. Of course, such an act might send every one of them to the grave, but he wouldn’t so willingly sacrifice himself. Nate couldn’t imagine going down without a fight.

  This was all to say that though Nate might not have given himself up, he would have done something if he were in Droman’s shoes. To do nothing showed an apathy deep within that was darker than sin.

  Maybe Nate didn’t understand the way of the gray elves. Maybe they had different customs that had something to do with honor. Perhaps they thought it was best to die than to try and get out of it. However, given Marum’s attitude toward the situation and the fact that she pleaded for him to break her out of her cell told Nate a different story.

  Alban looked behind him a couple of times and finally shook his head. “I wish there was something I could have done, Marum. When I heard you were captured, Rachel and I tried to visit you, but the guards wouldn’t allow it.”

  “One of them even said that it was just a rumor that you were there,” Rachel said. “We couldn’t even know if the story was true.”

  “How were you captured?” Nate asked.

  Marum looked away at the road that crawled below them. The only sounds were the hooves of plodding horses and wooden wheels grinding against the dirt path. Finally, she looked up at Nate and said, “I was at the wrong place at the wrong time. There are a lot of people who want my brother dead. I shouldn’t have been careless.”

  Nate didn’t mistake her reply for an answer, but he left it alone all the same. It was rare that he even asked such questions. In his line of work, people didn’t like to talk much and Nate felt the same way. Too much talk usually led to bragging, and outlaws who bragged often ended up dead. Though the other two in the cart might not have caught it, Nate knew that Marum’s apprehension to tell them how or why she had been caught implied that she might have been doing something she shouldn’t have been doing, which meant she wasn’t as innocent as she might like them to believe.

  This didn’t bother Nate in the least. He might have felt a tiny bit of compassion for her in that jail cell—there had been no way for him to know of her innocence or guilt. But the best con men were those who convinced everyone else that they were innocent or incapable of crime.

  But every man was capable of crime. If someone might have asked Nate ten years ago if he would ever be robbing banks, stage coaches, trains, or that he would ever consider killing a man, he would have thought the questioner a lunatic. Yet, here he was, a thief, a robber, and a killer. And he’d been doing these things for a decade now.

  How and why he had started this lifestyle was as clear as day. He never questioned how this all began. Why he stayed in it for so long, however, was beyond him. He didn’t like to think about it too much. Thinking about it only made him feel guilty and he didn’t have time to feel that way. Still, the thoughts came up now and again. He supposed there was an aspect of thrill to it. He liked the adventure, the plan of a heist. He didn’t particularly like the killing part of it, but sometimes it was necessary.

  More than all that, however, was that when one started such a life, it wasn’t easy to get out of it. You get wanted for one crime, it’s technically breaking more laws to run away. And it’s not like after breaking the law one could just go out and get a job. A man had to eat regardless of what side of the law he fell on. So, it only made sense that once a man was wanted by the law that he could only keep from starving by breaking more laws. But then a
man gets a taste of how much he can accumulate if he’s good at breaking the law. And once he becomes richer than he would ever be by any conventional means, it’s a wonder why the lawlessness hadn’t started sooner.

  Most people weren’t any good at being outlaws. Many didn’t know how to pick their targets just right. Others might be all right at the law breaking part of the job, but fail to plan a proper escape.

  A lot of outlaws found the end of a rope early in their career, and Nate had come close a few times. But he had discovered a long time ago that with careful planning, skilled marksmanship, and a little bit of luck, life as an outlaw was manageable.

  But Nate was tired of running. That was why he was ready to give it all up and move to Montana. As far as he knew, no one had heard of him out that way. Somewhere deep within, Nate knew that Montana was just a dream. No matter how much money he had, he would always be looking over his shoulder. That was one of the biggest downsides to being an outlaw. No matter how old he got, no matter how far away he ran, there was a always the chance of some bounty hunter or lawman showing up at his doorstep, ready to take him to prison.

  He’d picked Montana because he’d heard of how beautiful it was, and that one could go for miles and miles without ever seeing another person. It seemed like a good place for Nate to disappear. But the world was getting bigger. And pretty soon, even in Montana, Nate wouldn’t be able to stay clear of people for too long. And the threat of the law would always be looming, especially if Levi Thompson was out there looking for him.

  Levi Thompson was another story altogether. The man had been a thorn in Nate’s side for years. He was the one man who Nate feared, yet he was just about the only man he didn’t want to kill. Of course, Nate had a good reason for this, but he didn’t like to think about it. He shook the thoughts from his head. Troubling himself with horrors of the past wasn’t helpful.

  It never was.

  About an hour before the sun faded from the sky, Alban decided it was time to set up camp for the night. In the back of the cart, Alban had packed plenty of food for them to eat, along with comfortable bedrolls for each of them. Nate put himself in charge of starting the fire while the others unloaded.

  They made camp about a hundred feet off the road. They were armed well enough that they didn’t fear being robbed, and Alban doubted any Rangers patrolled this part of the forest. They were safe for the night, it seemed.

  Soon, the fire was blazing and Alban already had a pot boiling with his signature mutton stew. The smell made Nate’s mouth water and he knew there was a remedy to that. He reached inside his shirt pocket and pulled out his flask. It was filled with whiskey from another bottle that Alban had been gracious enough to let Nate have. Taking a swig, he couldn’t help but notice Rachel’s disapproving stare from across the dancing flames, but Nate just laid back on his bedroll and smiled at her, then winked with as much charm as a man with a flask could muster. She pulled her eyes away from him and stared into the fire.

  For the next few minutes, Rachel, Alban, and Marum exchanged stories. Alban did most of the talking, which was primarily about things that went on at the farm. He spoke of memories when Rachel and Marum had been little. Hearing them talk, Nate could see the bond among them. Marum really was like a sister to Rachel, and Alban was truly a father to both of them.

  They didn’t talk about Droman. They didn’t talk about Alban’s late wife, Iris. They kept it light and full of laughter while Nate sipped away at his whiskey. For the first time in a long while he felt relaxed.

  The mutton stew tasted better than the night before. Alban claimed that it had something to do with allowing the mutton and fat to sit in the pot and truly flavor the broth. However the method, Nate found himself with a full belly and a thirsty tongue. The whiskey did little to alleviate the need for water, but he didn’t like to have water when he drank hard liquor. It kept the fiery liquid from doing its job effectively.

  Nate looked up at the stars. He never claimed to be an astronomer, but he could tell that these weren’t the same stars from home. This was a completely different sky, though just as brilliant and clear. He wondered what constellations there were, or if people of Galamore had ever worried about such things. Nate figured they weren’t really patterns in the sky until someone showed you what you were looking at. Sure, a big group of stars might be a dipper to some, but it could just as easily be a plow or a saucepan to another. Nate figured if he stared at these stars long enough, he could make just about anything out of them.

  His flask was almost empty when conversation turned to Nate. He had been happy to listen, but the others were apparently running out of things to talk about. He guessed he understood that they had questions about him, but that didn’t mean he wanted to answer.

  “So,” Alban said, looking up at Nate, “I’ve been thinking on your story. On what you said about being from a different place.”

  “Texas,” Nate said.

  “Right, Texas.” Alban looked into the fire thoughtfully, his white bushy eyebrows forming a crease in the middle of his forehead. “I was just thinking that this has happened in the past.”

  “What are you talking about?” Nate said. He felt himself involuntarily sit up straighter.

  “People who claim to have come from other worlds by way of a book from another world,” Alban said. “I have studied a lot, geography being a particularly favorite subject of mine, and I’ve never heard of Texas. So, naturally that leads me to two options, either it’s a made up place by you, or…” his voice trailed off for a moment, then he sighed. “Or you’re a Sojourner.” He cleared his throat.

  “I hope I’m a sojourner,” Nate said. “I don’t really want to be here long.”

  Alban shook his head. “No, no, I mean in the sense of the title, Sojourner. It’s a name given to those who have traveled here from other worlds through books. If you are indeed a Sojourner, then you will be the first one for hundreds of years. That’s not to say there haven’t been others who I haven’t learned about, but to my knowledge, you would be the first in a long, long time.”

  Alban inched closer to the fire and stuck out his hands to warm his palms. The night air had laid a blanket of cold on their backs, though their fronts were toasted by the fire. Rachel and Marum scooted closer together and even shared a blanket that wrapped around their shoulders. The two of them looked up at Nate to see his reaction as Alban expressed his new idea, but Nate stayed as he was, on his side and nonchalant.

  As silence passed between them, Alban noticed Nate rubbing his limbs, trying to fight off the cold. Alban stood without saying anything and went to the cart, rummaging through one of the chests he’d brought.

  “I thought you might be cold come night time,” Alban said as he stood next to Nate, holding a wad of tanned leather in his arms. “Seeing as you came to my cabin without a coat, I figure that wherever you came from it was hot.”

  “Hotter than hell,” Nate said, standing from his bedroll.

  Alban handed him the coat and smiled. “Try it on.”

  Nate slid his arms through and instantly felt warm under the light leather. It fit him perfectly and came all the way down to his knees.

  “You’re too kind,” Nate said.

  “That coat was given to me many years ago by an old friend,” Alban said as he crossed to the other side of the fire and sat back down.

  “I’ll be sure to give it back once we part ways,” Nate said.

  Alban waved him off. “I haven’t worn it in years. Can’t really say why, but I just haven’t. It’s yours if you want it.”

  Nate didn’t really know what to think. The quality of the coat was unmatched, and the leather had already been worn in, making it soft under the arms and at his shoulders.

  Truth was, the act of kindness from Alban made Nate feel uncomfortable. He didn’t like wearing another man’s clothes, but he didn’t like frost crystallizing on his back either. He was grateful for the gesture, but he geared the conversation back to whatever it w
as they had been talking about. Sojourners, was it?

  “So,” Nate said. “did these others come through a book with no title on it? No author?”

  Alban shook his head. “I cannot know. I have never met a Sojourner because I’m only in my sixties and I’ve never had the chance to venture into The Book of Time.”

  He said the last part as if such an utterance was common. “The book of what?” Nate asked.

  “Oh my,” Alban said. “Every passing moment proves to me that you truly aren’t from around here.”

  “I have no reason to lie to you,” Nate said.

  “The Book of Time is one of The Ancient Books,” Alban said. “Few know where they are. No one knows how to use them. They are out there somewhere and they are very important.”

  “Okay,” Nate said. He sat up and set his flask in the front left pocket of his new coat. “What does that have to do with me?”

  Alban stuck out his lip and shook his head. “Nothing, that I know of. I was just making a joke that I am not old enough to have met a Sojourner.” He smiled, but his face became serious again and he stared at Nate. “What was the book like?”

  Nate stared at the raging coals underneath the wood. He could feel their heat on his face and he wasn’t sure how much of the heat was from the fire or from the whiskey in his belly. He swallowed and did his best to describe it. He repeated the part about no title and no author. “But the strangest part,” he continued, “was that the pages could be flipped continuously and never stop. It was like there were an infinite number of pages. Then, when I looked down at the words, they were continually being written in front of my eyes. It was like someone was there with a pen and ink, writing in front of me. But there was no hand, no pen, nothing.” He nodded toward Marum. “That’s where I read about her. It was just a few sentences before I found myself in a cell next to her, wearing the same clothes I had on, carrying everything I already had with me.”

  “So,” Alban said, “you find it necessary to be so fully armed in Texas? What were you, a lawman?” There was a glint in Alban’s eye when he said this, but he suddenly frowned when he noticed Nate’s hesitation.