“You’re right,” Clive had answered. “But if we got all of them…”
They had left the conversation at that. Everyone knew it would be next to impossible to gain all of the books, but to have any leverage at all would be something, Joe thought. To have any ability to bargain, should it come to that, would be better than nothing. So, this was what it was—a play to gain the upper hand. It was rumored that president Jacob DalGaard didn’t own any of The Ancient Books and therefore would be alarmed to find that the Renegades possessed one of the three.
But the Renegades weren’t there yet.
Joe pulled a pocket watch from his vest and looked at the time. Clive was late. Fergus was late too, and he was supposed to lead them to the book. Joe had wondered many times if this was just a setup to get them caught, but it was worth the risk.
It couldn’t have been a trap. After doing some digging, Joe learned that Fergus was in trouble with the law—something to do with neglecting to pay his taxes. He was out of a job and needed a place to lay low. In exchange for The Book of Time, Fergus wanted a place among the Renegades. Not only a place, but a commanding position. He wanted to help lead. This was a point of contention among the commanders, but ultimately they decided to move ahead with it. If Fergus turned out to be a lousy commander, they’d just kick him out anyway. Having one of The Ancient Books was worth the risk of that annoyance.
Joe stared at the glass in his hands. He needed to be careful he didn’t drink too much before the meeting. He needed a clear mind, but more than that he needed calm nerves. He knocked back two more drinks before Clive finally pushed through the swinging doors of the saloon.
“Hitting it hard already, I see,” Clive said, sliding his hand on the bar. He motioned to the bartender for a shot glass. “You trying to get drunk before we get the book?”
“Why are you late?” Joe asked. “Where’s Fergus?”
“I’m late because I was snooping around the sheriff’s office,” he answered.
Joe’s heart gave a sudden jolt. “What? Why would you do that?” He lowered his voice and looked over his shoulder. “You’re a wanted man. You wanna mess this up before we get a chance to even start?”
“Relax,” Clive said, taking his full shot glass from the bartender. He knocked back the dark liquid and motioned for another fill-up. “They didn’t recognize me.”
“Why were you sniffing around there?”
“Just making sure they haven’t been tipped off to us,” Clive said. “I figured they’d be getting ready for something if they had. But the sheriff is asleep and his two deputies are playing cards.”
“That doesn’t mean Fergus won’t meet us with about a hundred Crimson Army soldiers,” Joe said.
Almost as if he had heard the conversation taking place and was waiting for his introduction, Fergus walked through the swinging doors of the saloon, a sly grin on his face and without a horde of soldiers trailing him.
Joe winced a little when he saw the man. He wore a pointed goatee, his teeth were yellow and they stuck out like a rat’s. He was a full head shorter than Joe, but wore a top hat to compensate.
“Awfully early to be hitting the drinks so hard, don’t you think, gentlemen?” His voice was high and slithery. Joe didn’t like him one bit.
“You’re late,” Joe said through clenched teeth.
“Oh, I was following Clive here,” Fergus said. “Of course, he didn’t know it at the time. Besides, how can I be late if I’m the one carrying out the mission?”
“What do you mean?” Clive asked. “We’re just here to get the book from you.”
“And add me to your roster of commanders,” Fergus said with a yellow smile.
“It’s feeling too crowded as it is,” Joe snarled.
Clive patted Joe’s arm, silently telling him to stand down. Joe swallowed another shot.
“That’s the agreement, Fergus,” Clive said. “My word should be enough.” Clive cleared his throat and looked around the room. The bartender was off helping a saloon girl clean up a mess someone made with a broken bottle. The others in the room were either talking loudly or half passed out from a long night of drinking and gambling. They were safe to talk here, though with low voices. “What’s your plan?” Clive asked.
“It’s a simple one, really,” Fergus said. “You know of the Okoro gang?”
Joe turned his head to Fergus sharply and Clive’s eyes narrowed. “Of course,” Clive said. “What do they have to do with it?”
“I hired them to help us,” Fergus said, still smiling.
Joe wasn’t smiling. Not at all. The gangs were bad news. In a way, more so than the Renegades. They were groups that lived outside of the law, but only looked out for their own greedy interests. The Okoro gang was one of the worst. They were known for their barbaric raids. They would pillage towns and steal away the women and children. They had grown in number over the years and thought all the other gangs should be exterminated.
Before he had gotten to know Galamore a little better, Joe wondered what was so different between the Renegades and the gangs that dotted the northern mountains of Galamore. It didn’t take much thought to see the differences. The Renegades were motivated politically. Gangs were motivated by money and recognition. Gangs usually only cared about what was happening among other gangs whereas the Renegades cared about setting up a new government. Their goals were different, and the Renegades weren’t ruthless killers. Most of the gang members thought nothing of killing an innocent traveler on the road just to take his coat.
The gangs were rejected from towns and cities and most gang leaders had significant bounties on their heads. But they were hard men to find, so most didn’t try. There were four major gangs and most of them resided in the Great Ridge north of Somerled. Most of society was happy with letting them kill each other off so long as they left the rest of the world alone. But in the colder months, hunting would get harder and the gangs would be drawn south. The colder it got, the more often places like Somerled had to deal with them.
“And what did you hire them to do?” Clive asked slowly.
Fergus grinned even wider. “They are going to provide a distraction for us. The book you want is in safety deposit box 238.”
When Joe heard him say this, he couldn’t help but think about the book that had gotten him to Galamore in the first place. All of this started because of some book in a safety deposit box. Was he about to go through all this again? What if this book was just a portal to another world? Then another? Then another? Was Joe doomed to repeat the same mistake over and over?
“My contact’s name is Gerd. He works at the bank. He never told anyone about the book being in the safety deposit box. Not until a few months ago that is. He told me.”
“And someday I might even care to ask how you pulled that information out of him,” Clive said, “but right now I’m more curious about the Okoro gang.”
“What about them?”
“How did you have enough money to pay them?” Joe asked.
“I didn’t pay them with money,” Fergus said. “I paid them with promises.”
Joe’s fingers tightened around the glass almost to the point of breaking it. “What kind of promises?”
“I offered them a partnership with the Renegades,” Fergus said.
“You what?” Clive’s face turned bright red.
Fergus could see their anger, and his smile faded quickly. He looked around the room as his fingers started shaking. “Why are you gettin’ mad at me?”
“I ain’t mad at you,” Clive said, reaching for his gun. “But I am fixing to kill you.”
Joe reached for Clive’s hand and made sure he kept his gun in the holster. “Take it easy, Clive, we don’t want to start any trouble.”
“I most certainly do want to start some trouble,” Clive came back. “What were you thinking? You can’t possibly think I would allow such a thing.”
“I thought we might be able to discuss it, seeing as I’m going to be a
commander soon.”
Clive turned away from Fergus and looked at Joe. “Let’s go. I’m finished with him.”
“You might not want to do that,” Fergus said. “The Okoro gang is gonna start with or without you. It’s already in motion. You might as well get what you’re after.”
Clive rubbed the sides of his head with both of his hands, his eyes closed as if he was fighting off a headache. “And what are they about to start doing?”
Fergus made his widest grin yet. “That’s the fun part. They’re gonna tear Somerled apart.”
Nate
Winter, 903 A.O.M.
The group decided not to speak of Alban’s error in judgment to stay in the town of Bathevar. It was a bad call. He knew it. The others knew it. There was nothing more to talk about.
Nate understood the feeling, and it only got worse the more people dwelled on it. It was decided they would travel through what was left of the night. The sun would be up in a couple of hours and the company would be exhausted when they finally reached Dragon Scale Mountain, but Nate was happy to finally be nearing their destination. The journey had taken so long he had almost forgotten their reason for traveling in the first place. But when he suddenly realized he might be getting the answers he needed in order to get back to Texas, a smile came across his face. It would be a small victory of sorts, even if he already knew the answers that awaited him—that he was this mysterious Keeper of the books.
There were three books in all: The Book of Life, The Book of Time, and The Book of Death. The theory was that if Nate could obtain all three books, go inside them, and take a relic key from each, he would be able to get back home. Nate had decided he needed to approach this like he would have any thieving job—with careful planning and precision. Of course, one of the aspects of taking on a job was deciding the risk versus the reward. For one thing, no one knew where the books were, according to Alban. The man also said that those who had tried to go in and get the keys had never succeeded. Worse than that, they never came back.
It was hearing about those scenarios that made Nate consider his real reason for trying to get back. More than a few times he had questioned what he was trying to get back to. A price on his head? That secret stash of money he’d hidden away so he could disappear?
Maybe home was more of a reality than this place. Sometimes he wondered if all this was some elaborate dream. It sure was crazy enough to be. But no dream lasted this long. No dream made you feel like you’d been traveling through icy winds and snow banks for weeks on end. No dream was this detailed. There was little doubt in Nate’s mind that what he had experienced here in Galamore was indeed real. It just wasn’t the sort of real he was used to.
The cart moved along lazily, and Nate’s head bobbed up and down, his eyes heavier than he could ever remember. The others had at least gotten some sleep in the night. Nate hadn’t even gone to bed before they had escaped the angry mob.
They followed behind the wood elf who led them on his horse. The elf’s name was Jesse, he had told them, but that was about all they knew. Nate figured he could either fall asleep and risk tumbling off the cart and into the snow, or he could talk to keep himself awake.
He looked toward Jesse and studied him for a moment. The obvious comparison would have been to pit him against Marum since they were both elves, though one a gray elf and the other a wood elf, apparently. In terms of physical shape, the two were similar—slender, long bodies with sharp features. Everything from their eyebrows, to their chins, to their noses seemed to come to a point. Both of them had the signature long ears. Jesse wore a hat with slits cut in the sides so his ears could pull through, and they traveled toward the back of his head like a couple of hawk feathers. Jesse’s eyes were blue, Marum’s purple. His hair was blonde and short underneath his hat, her hair black and long, twisted into braids. Strictly in appearance alone, they were similar in some ways, yet night and day in others.
The comparison of their temperaments remained to be seen. Though Marum was a relatively calm person, Alban had told Nate that the gray elves had a reputation for their wild behavior. They were quick to fight and eager to shed blood. He figured Marum was more even-tempered than the rest of her kind by the simple fact that she had been raised by Alban and not her own people.
Nate hadn’t learned much about the wood elves. He didn’t know much about a lot of the other races, just a few things Alban may have told him here and there. One thing Nate did know, however, was that a person’s nature largely depended on the individual. Jesse may have been part of one of the more peaceful races, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a scoundrel who wanted nothing more than to gut them all and rob them blind.
“So, what’s your story?” Nate called out. “Why’d you warn us about the group in the saloon?”
Jesse pulled up on his horse until he was riding steadily next to the group. Nate looked behind him and noticed Marum shifting in position, almost as if she waited for the wood elf to lunge at them. She wore a snarl on her face that didn’t exactly make her seem even-tempered. Rachel rested a hand on her shoulder, but Marum didn’t turn her gaze away from Jesse.
“They were talking about murdering you,” Jesse said. “I didn’t think that was fair considering you’d just arrived.” He looked behind him at Marum. “I can’t say I have a love for gray elves, but being what you are isn’t enough to kill you.” He shrugged. “But I suppose it is to some people.”
“I could have handled myself,” Marum said.
Jesse shrugged again. “I don’t doubt it. You seem to be a capable bunch. Foolish for thinking you could walk right into a tavern and sit like it was nothing.” He looked at Nate. “With the gray elf, I mean.”
“Well, you have our thanks,” Alban said. “We may be capable, but what good is that when you’re surprised out of sleep?”
“True enough,” Jesse said. “I might have left them to it if I hadn’t heard you say you were on Sentinel business.” He stared at Nate. Studied him. It was like he was trying to put together a puzzle in his mind—to figure out what the truth really was. He finally shook his head. “None of you are on Sentinel business.”
“Well, we are,” Rachel said from the back. “We just haven’t met with them yet.”
Jesse gave a nod of realization—an inaudible ‘I see…’ that somehow made Nate feel silly. “It was lucky I was there. I can help you gain an audience with the Sentinels. They don’t often take unsolicited groups such as you. And it’s not often they are all together at once.”
“But they are now?” Nate asked.
“Unless some of them left while I was away,” Jesse said.
“You work for them?” Alban asked.
“I’m part of the Sentinel Guard,” Jesse said.
“Oh,” Alban said, his eyebrows raised. “You’re not in uniform.”
Jesse smiled and shook his head. “Even soldiers of the Sentinel Guard have days off, friend.”
“Well, I don’t suspect we will need your help gaining an audience with the Sentinels,” Alban said. “We’ve got an important topic to discuss with them.”
“So does everyone who comes by uninvited,” Jesse said. “That doesn’t mean the Sentinels will have time to listen to you.”
Alban didn’t argue further, but Nate suspected the man brushed off the wood elf in his mind. Truth was, they were on an important mission. At least, it was important to Nate. And if he had to do what everyone else seemed to think he had to do, then it would be important to the Sentinels as well. That didn’t mean they couldn’t turn them away without hearing them out. In that case, Nate wasn’t sure what he would do. Force his way in? Make them talk to him? He had a feeling that wouldn’t go over very well.
The sun crawled over the horizon, its orange rays bouncing off the white ground in front of them. In the distance, Nate could see the outline of Dragon Scale Mountain, a blanket of hazy clouds covering the top. He’d been able to see it for a couple of days now, growing larger and larger the closer they
got.
It had to be one of the largest mountains Nate had ever seen, not that he’d seen many. There were some back East, not far from where he grew up. His travels over the years had taken him through some mountain passes, though he’d yet to travel the largest ones to the west. He’d heard how some of them grazed the edge of the sky, capped with snow.
Dragon Scale Mountain seemed different than other mountains. Darker, ominous even. When the skies were clearer Nate had seen jagged peaks with deep crevices throughout. It was taller than most mountains, and taller than any mountain in Galamore, though there was no snow at the top of it as there should have been.
Alban had talked of a fire burning deep within the mountain like a volcano ready to erupt. “They say that the mountain is actually a sleeping dragon from ancient times,” Alban had told them one day. “It hides its features just enough to make one curious. But every few decades steam rises into the atmosphere as the dragon breathes.”
This was a load of hogwash, Nate knew, but it was interesting to think about. It wasn’t always easy figuring out what people in Galamore believed and didn’t believe. Alban had claimed the story about the dragon was a legend, yet he spoke of it as if it were true. When Nate questioned him further, Alban just shrugged.
“What does it matter whether it’s true or not? A creature who breathes once a decade probably won’t wake in my lifetime. Probably won’t wake in my great grandchildren’s lifetime.”
“I’d imagine if that thing woke up, we’d all be in trouble,” Nate said.
“It would be the end of an age,” Alban said.
Despite its inexplicable mystery, Dragon Scale Mountain was nothing more that just that: a mountain.
The hours crawled on about as slowly as their wagon. The company stopped for a quick lunch. Marum ate in silence, keeping a safe distance between her and Jesse. The wood elf didn’t seem to notice and looked immune to the racially charged hostility. Each of them was aware of it, however, but kept the conversation on the task at hand. Nate used the opportunity to try and learn more from Jesse about the Sentinels without offering up information that he was a Sojourner from another world.
The Outlaw's Quest (Keeper of the Books, Book 2) Page 3