The sound of hooves beating the ground rumbled behind them loudly. The men riding were lawmen by the looks of them and a few deputies. They must have been the ones that Clive had seen sleeping or playing cards earlier.
Riding to their deaths, Joe thought. The Okoro gang didn’t care who they killed. They had a job to do and it was to destroy the town. They were known by reputation, and if that served true now, Somerled was in trouble.
Fergus made a left once the series of storefronts ended at an alley. They were surrounded by more buildings and Joe had no idea where he was. He’d never been around Somerled before so he was at a disadvantage to say the least. Fergus could be taking them anywhere—could be betraying them and turning them over to the authorities. But what about this commotion? He wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of setting all this up just to hand them over to the authorities.
Or would he?
Perhaps this was all an elaborate attempt to draw out the Warlord. Maybe the Okoro gang was just a backup plan. But Joe didn’t think so. Fergus was convinced that he was soon to be one of the Renegades—a commander at that. The man couldn’t have been more wrong. But not only would he never be allowed into the group, if the president caught wind that these attacks were orchestrated by the Renegades then there might not be an organization to join anyway.
Fergus hurried his pace and the three of them jogged. “We’re almost there!” Fergus called out.
He had led them nearer to the shots and commotion in the streets but through a back way. Fergus finally crouched low behind a water trough and Joe and Clive sat next to him.
“Over there across the street, ya’ll see that?”
Joe looked up. Past the shooting maniacs and screaming victims, he saw a building with the word Bank scrolled across the top in big letters. Joe nodded.
“That’s the one,” Fergus said.
“Where’s your man, Gerd?” Clive snapped.
“Inside, of course,” Fergus answered. “He ain’t in on this, remember? He just told me about the book when he was drunk.”
“Can’t believe all this is happening on the word of a drunk man,” Joe said. “How do you know he was telling the truth? How do you even know it’s real?”
Fergus shrugged and Joe wanted to hit him. “I suppose the only way we’re gonna find out is if we hurry up and get over there.”
Fergus jumped from his crouch and the two followed closely behind him. When they got to the edge of the street, Joe saw a few men jump off their horses, pistols extended out as they shot liberally. There were others coming after them, but they were good shots. Joe saw one man drop to the ground barely a second after standing out from cover. He noticed a shiny bronze star on his vest.
Joe cursed.
“Sheriff’s dead,” he said under his breath. But neither Clive nor Fergus seemed to hear him. Joe had to turn away when he saw one of the Okoro gang members ride down a couple of women who were running for cover. When they fell, Joe couldn’t tell if they were alive or dead. Part of him, no all of him, wanted to jump out into the middle of it and try to put a stop to the madness. But his voice wouldn’t be heard. Even if he shouted to the sky that he was the Warlord, true or not, they’d kill him. They’d kill him because it wasn’t part of Fergus’ twisted plan. The plan was for them to create mayhem in the streets while Fergus, Clive, and Joe robbed a bank. Any deviation from the plan would get them killed.
Fergus charged across the street and when they got to the front of the bank, the door was shut and the curtains were drawn. They were closed for business. Fergus swore loudly.
“Gerd! Gerd! Open up! It’s me, Fergus! We’re stuck out here and we need shelter! Gerd! Gerd!”
Bullets whizzed by their heads and each of them ducked down low. Joe figured they were stray shots, but a stray was as deadly as an aimed shot if it hit right.
“Knock it down,” Clive yelled out.
“What?” Fergus stared at him wide eyed.
“Bust the door down!”
Fergus turned and tapped on the window again, but this time Joe swore and shoved him out of the way. He pointed his pistol at the bolt on the door and squeezed the trigger. Now it hung open loosely. Fergus and Clive ran inside and Joe followed behind them.
Joe knew a thing or two about robbing banks, and he knew it was pointless to try and rob one when it was closed. Safes were impossible to crack and everything would be stuck in vaults behind bars. So, if this Gerd character wasn’t even here, they’d be leaving with nothing to show for it.
When they got inside, it took a second for Joe’s eyes to adjust to the dark. His stomach sank when he saw the vault shut in the back with bars blocking their access.
“He ain’t here,” Clive said. “This whole operation was pointless.”
Fergus held up a hand. “Now wait just a second. Wait.” He crossed behind a desk and toward the vault. “Gerd! It’s me, Fergus! Open up, I need a hiding place!”
That was when Joe heard a voice that he wasn’t expecting at all. It was high and almost shrill like it couldn’t have belonged to a man. But it came from the other side of the room.
“The bank isn’t a place to hide from the bandits,” the voice said.
Joe pointed his gun in the direction of the voice which was on the other side of the room behind a desk. The small man was on his knees, holding a shotgun in his shaking hands. He was bald and wore a thick, gray mustache, and tiny spectacles on his large nose.
“Be gone, you three!” he said, standing to his feet now.
Joe kept his pistol trained on Gerd’s head. “If you so much as flinch with that gun I’ll put a hole in your head. Set it on the ground slowly.”
Gerd snarled at him, but gave no argument as he set the gun on the ground. Joe then looked at Fergus and nodded.
Fergus nodded back and walked over to Gerd. “You ain’t in any trouble, but I gotta give these men something I promised them. You once told me about a certain book in the safety deposit box 238.”
Gerd looked up at Fergus with a shocked look on his face. “You’re robbing me?”
Fergus shook his head. “Just a certain safety deposit box. I need you to open it.”
“I don’t keep a key, that’s the customer’s,” Gerd said.
“Aw don’t give me that,” Fergus said. “I know you keep a copy of the keys. Besides, a simple gunshot will break open one of them boxes, now get yer keys and let’s go.” He grabbed Gerd by the collar and shoved him forward.
Joe should have been used to this kind of thing, but this robbery felt different. Before, when he had been working with Nate, it had all been about profit. There was never the intention of hurting people. It was always, get in, get out, get away. But this robbery carried a different weight than any other he’d been a part of. This robbery had innocent blood on it. And whether they had planned it or not, Joe and Clive were responsible for today’s attack. He knew they’d have to deal with the Okoro gang mess later. Then they’d have to deal with the issue of Fergus thinking he could buy his way into the Renegades. The Renegades weren’t for sale. And if that meant he’d have to kill Fergus and start a war with the Okoro gang then so be it. The Renegades weren’t going to be bullied or bought. They stood on principle alone.
Gerd finally had the door to the safety deposit room open. And in a few seconds they were standing in front of box 238.
“You got a key for this?” Fergus asked.
Gerd nodded and shuffled around his pockets until he pulled out a keychain with hundreds of little keys dangling on it. “I had them on me for safekeeping once the commotion started.” He handed the keys to Fergus.
“A lot of good that did you,” Fergus said with a laugh. He then raised his six-shooter in the air, pointed the barrel at Gerd’s chest and pulled the trigger.
Joe swore as Gerd fell back against the wall. His eyes were wide with shock and red liquid drooled out his mouth as he scooted to the floor. Joe knew the man was dead already, but that didn’t keep him from kneeling
next to him and setting a calming hand on his shoulder. When he looked up, he saw that Clive already had Fergus up against the wall, a barrel shoved up under his chin.
“What is wrong with you?” Clive shouted. “We ain’t here to kill nobody!”
“I got you the book you wanted so badly,” Fergus said, unmoving.
“We didn’t want it this bad,” Clive answered.
“If you ain’t willing to kill for The Ancient Books then yer in for a rude awakening.” He let out a laugh and a little bit of drool dribbled out the side.
Clive shoved him again and turned away in disgust. He spat on the floor and rubbed at his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. When he looked up to see Joe, he nodded toward Gerd’s bloody body. “He dead?”
Joe nodded.
Clive tossed the keys at Fergus. “Get the box open.”
Fergus looked up at Clive, not really sure what was happening, but the consideration only lasted a moment or two before he smiled again and holstered his pistol. He fumbled through the keys until he found the right one and stuck it into the keyhole of box 238. He was about to turn the key when a loud click made him freeze.
The sound was small and simple—quiet even, but it was a sound that all men recognized and all men feared. Fergus didn’t have to look behind him to know that Clive’s gun was inches from the back of his head. He didn’t have to ask any questions to know Clive’s intentions. Joe could see Fergus’ face and it carried an expression of fear and loathing at the same time.
His lip bent into a snarl, his hands stuck on the key and the wall of safety deposit boxes. The only muscles that moved were in his mouth. “I thought we had a deal worked out.”
“I was under the same impression,” Clive said. “But you ain’t keeping your end of the bargain.”
His teeth clenched together. “Yer gettin yer book. What else can I do?”
“You ain’t the sort we need in the Renegades, Fergus,” Clive said. “We ain’t killers. We don’t ransack towns and cities. We certainly don’t want you on our team, and we can’t afford to let the world think that today’s bloodshed was our idea.”
“So, yer just gonna kill me then?” His arms fell to his sides and he turned slowly to face Clive. Joe held his pistol firmly and was ready for anything the man might try. “Then yer gonna have to look me in the eye and do it.”
Clive didn’t blink. It seemed that he barely even breathed. But he stared Fergus in the eyes and squeezed the trigger.
When the sound rang out, Joe simply closed his eyes. It wasn’t out of fear or that he couldn’t stomach it, but simply that he felt revolted by the idea of having two dead bodies on the floor because of them. When he opened his eyes he could see blood and brains covering the safety deposit boxes. There was more blood on the ground next to Fergus’ dead body, pooling out into a puddle from a gaping hole in his head.
“I didn’t think you’d do it,” Joe said quietly.
“Me neither,” Clive said. He holstered his gun and took a couple of steps forward and then grabbed the keys. He turned it slowly until it unlocked. The drawer popped open and he looked up at Joe. “Take a look.”
Sure enough, there was a book inside. He carefully reached in and grabbed it, his palm on the spine. The light showed that the cover was dark green. Everything in Joe wanted to open it and see what kind of magic it held, but he knew he shouldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. Not yet, anyway.
“This has to be it,” Joe said.
“It’s a book,” Clive said, “but it ain’t The Book of Time like he said it was.”
“It ain’t?”
Clive shook his head. “Nope. Look at the front. It’s got a title on it.”
Joe flipped the book over and saw the title. It simply read: The Way.
“The way?” Joe said, looking up.
Clive cursed and snatched the book from his hands. He flipped it open. “Look. It ain’t magic. Just a regular paper book.”
Joe took the book from the frustrated Clive and sighed, unable to fight off the feeling of disappointment.
“I wonder who this deposit box belongs to,” Clive said. He looked around the room as if the answer might be etched across the ceiling or walls.
“I bet they have records of it somewhere,” Joe said. He stared down at the book as Clive started rummaging through desks and cabinets. Joe studied the writing on the first page. It read:
You are reading this because you seek The Ancient Books. Of death, I cannot know. Of life, I cannot say. Of time, this book reveals. To find what you seek, study you must, and follow instructions within.
“It’s a map,” Joe said. “Or rather, instructions to the book.”
Joe left the bodies in the room for someone else to find. There was no sense in taking care of them. Someone would walk in here eventually and think it a result of the invasion that was going on outside.
Clive wasn’t listening. The Warlord seemed antsy and ready to get out, but it was another three or four minutes before he finally found something. It was a leather-bound book that was larger than any Joe had ever seen. But inside were a list of names and dates, and eventually he found the safety deposit box records.
“Two, two, two,” Clive said, tracing his finger down the columns of numbers. “Two-three-eight…here it is.” His finger froze on the number and his eyes were glued to the page.
“Whose is it?” Joe asked impatiently.
Clive swallowed hard. “What was the name of that man you said hired you to get the book that brought you here?”
“Who owns the box?” Joe said, his tone more firm than before.
Clive set the book on the desk in front of him and looked up at Joe. “According to this book,” Clive said, “the safety deposit box is owned by a man named Tyler Montgomery.”
Nate
Winter, 903 A.O.M.
Nate wasn’t sure why he felt so nervous. He’d anticipated this meeting for a while now, maybe that was it. Perhaps he dreaded the fact that in order to get home, he might have to do what he’d known all along—find The Ancient Books. Considering few knew where the books were and all those who had attempted to gain the relic keys from them had never survived, Nate started to think his chances of getting back home were slim. Still, he held onto the hope that the Sentinels might know of a different way. In the least, they might have some information about Joe or Tyler Montgomery.
Breakfast was held casually in the library at the end of the hall so the four of them could eat together. A table had been set up in the middle of the room and all of them marveled at the view through the large window. It was bright out now, and they could see for miles and miles. It was quite depressing, however, to see the endless plains of white they had traveled for more than a month. There were no tree lines, no hills to speak of, nothing but flat lands that disappeared into the sky.
As they ate, they felt free to speak since there were no guards in the room. Nate shoved his mouth full of eggs and looked toward Marum.
“You know the attention’s going to be on you for the first bit,” Nate said. “They’re probably interested to know why you’re here.”
“No worries,” Marum answered. “I trust the conversation will shift to you very quickly.”
“How do we plan to work this out?” Rachel asked. “Surely they won’t be pleased that we lied.”
“We never really lied,” Alban said. “We just never told them different from what they already assumed.” He nodded at Marum. “It might not be a bad idea to make a case for yourself, anyway.”
“What do you mean?” Marum said.
“Well, you are a wanted criminal, but only by association. You might be able to get the Sentinels to side with you. They are influential, you know. If they could speak to the president on your behalf…”
“No,” Marum interrupted. “I don’t need their help.”
“I don’t see why you couldn’t just—”
“No,” Marum said again. “Once this is over, I’m going back home. There is
no danger for me there. To be honest with you, I’m not so sure the Sentinels won’t turn me in.”
Alban waved this off. “They are neutral. They aren’t worried about turning in criminals. Especially since you were held under false pretenses.”
Marum looked down at her food and left it at that. Nate watched her for a minute, but soon turned back to his own plate. He was curious about Marum’s situation, but he wasn’t so curious that he needed to press her. He knew a criminal when he saw one. He’d thought it many times before, but had never said a word: Marum wasn’t as innocent as she would like others to believe. It was plain as day to Nate, but perhaps love and friendship made Rachel and Alban blind to the truth.
They were almost finished eating when a small knock sounded at the door. When it opened, they saw Jesse standing in the doorway, fully dressed in uniform. He wore the chainmail and the same dark green wool, only he didn’t carry a pike nor did he wear a helmet on his head like Jamin and Ryber. His elven ears were more pronounced without the hat he’d been wearing the day before.
“Good morning,” he said.
The others stood, though Marum grudgingly so. Nate nodded at Jesse and let out a deep breath. “Are they ready for us?”
“That’s right,” Jesse said. “And they want me to present you.”
“Present us?” Rachel said.
“That was Jamin’s idea of a joke,” Jesse said. “I’m not overly comfortable around the Sentinels and he knows it. Thinks since I brought you, I ought to present you. Considering he outranks me, I have to follow orders.”
“Sorry to be such a burden,” Nate said, lifting an eyebrow.
Jesse didn’t catch Nate’s sarcastic tone. “No worries,” he said, tugging at his chainmail and raising his chin higher. “I do what I do for the good of the Sentinels.”
“More like for the laugh of your superiors,” Nate said. This earned him a look from Rachel, but he ignored her. “Well, I’m ready.”
The others nodded in agreement and together they left for their meeting, Jesse leading the way.
The Outlaw's Quest (Keeper of the Books, Book 2) Page 6