The Outlaw's Quest (Keeper of the Books, Book 2)

by Jason D. Morrow

  Bastion didn’t seem worried, but when was Bastion ever worried? Devlin wondered if the man didn’t fear death because part of him wanted to die. How much death and destruction can a soul take before succumbing to it? Perhaps Bastion had a death wish—that, or he was too confident.

  “Listen,” Bastion said, finally. “Don’t worry about the book. Neither you nor I can know why President DalGaard wants it. But I can tell you that it’s safer in his hands than in the hands of Slaughter Okoro or the Warlord.”

  Devlin wasn’t entirely sure about that. He had his own opinions about the DalGaard family legacy. A lot of people did. But he was a Ranger now. He wasn’t allowed to voice such opinions. Especially not to someone like Bastion.

  Devlin sighed. He would never be a true Ranger. Not like the others. Not like Bastion. Bastion felt no fear, therefore he was brave in battle. But Devlin saw it a different way.

  Devlin felt great fear, yet he pushed onward. For that, he felt he was braver than any Ranger.

  Joe

  Winter, 903 A.O.M.

  Joseph Cole often found himself riding ahead of the group, preferring to be alone for a while. The band of travelers had been journeying for days and days. It had been a mad rush the moment they received word that Slaughter Okoro was on the move. The note had come in on the same hawk they had been using to correspond with Shane, the spy who had been watching the gang.

  The note had been short and simple:

  We have followed Slaughter and his men for a night. From the shadows in the woods we learned that he rides along the Great Ridge to Lurego. Then south to Aleya. Our book is there. There are fifteen men.

  “Your services are no longer required,” Joe had told the bird. Then offered him a rat, which he accepted gratefully.

  The group assembled that night and consisted of Clive, Joe, Edric, and six other soldiers. Any more and the party would have been too slow. Any fewer and they might not have enough firepower to overtake Slaughter and his men.

  They had been days behind, but while Slaughter and his followers exercised caution, Clive and his men rushed ahead.

  Aleya was their target, which was set deep within Elf Country, the northeastern region of Galamore. While Slaughter and his men traveled from the east and then south, the Renegades rode past the southern edge of Larimore Lake, through the Grassy Plains, and then north. The hope was that the Renegades would reach Aleya before the Okoro gang. The distance they covered was of the same length, but Clive thought that Slaughter and his men had rougher terrain to cross. Depending on the weather, Joe thought they might just be able to pull it off. And if they reached Aleya before Slaughter, they could then follow the gang to The Book of Time.

  It seemed like a reckless journey for a single book. But this was more than about getting it so Joe could open its pages and go back in time. This was about power. This was about leverage. With the book in hand, the Renegades would have a voice they had never before enjoyed in the land. President DalGaard would be forced to take them seriously. All people groups would know of the Renegades, then they would be able to shout their intentions to the masses. The people would have a reason to rebel.

  Joe suspected that Slaughter Okoro had the same idea, though his was probably more slanted toward the idea of fear and power. He wanted people groups to fear the Okoro gang and recognize them as a force to be reckoned with. For them it would be a foolish attempt, however. Though they were a dangerous bunch, the Okoro gang was small in number, and they always would be with their ideals and way of living. They killed without thought and had no true political motivation. At least the Renegades had a reason for what they did that went beyond the need for power. At least they had the citizens of Galamore in mind when they acted.

  Hadn’t always been that way, Joe thought to himself. Though its formation had been motivated by political unrest, the members of the Renegades had been little more than a large band of outlaws before Joe and Clive took control. The importance of changing the thoughts of their own soldiers had been their first mission. Then it was on to the rest of the land.

  The group of eight had been traveling for days and days. Relentlessly they charged through the grassy plains, though they weren’t so grassy these days. Snow had blanketed the entire landscape for more than a week and there they had scarcely met any travelers on their path. Once, in the distance, they had spotted a group of four (maybe five, Joe couldn’t tell) on an uncovered wagon. Joe had considered going to them and asking if they had any spare firewood that they might consider trading for, but Clive had advised against it. The group was merely a dot on the horizon, and Clive didn’t think it was a good idea to wear out the horses any more than they had to. Besides, they didn’t have much to trade, and if the travelers actually did have any firewood, they would need it heading south. There weren’t trees for miles and miles.

  Much was the same for the Renegades’ journey eastward. But when they reached the borders of Elf Country, the snow became sparse and the terrain more hilly. This wore on the horses, but the change in scenery was welcomed. Days later, they were deep within the trees of Elf Country, and had less than three days left in their journey until they reached Aleya.

  Spirits were lifted among the men now that they could build fires to keep the winter chill away. The trees all around them were as thick as houses and as tall as mountains, it seemed. Their canopies rarely allowed the travelers to see the stars above them, much less did they let in the snow that sprinkled above. The nights were pitch black and the days often dim in the thickness of the trees.

  “I can’t really imagine living in this forest,” Joe said one night as he and Clive sat huddled around a fire, their hands open-palmed toward the flames. “It’s so dark and gloomy.”

  “That’s partly because it’s so cold,” Clive said. “I’ve been here in the summer a couple of times. It seems as if the trees open up and let the sun through. There are lots of flowers and colorful ferns throughout. Elf Country can be a magical place. Of course, the trees ain’t so thick in the towns and cities where the elves make their homes. You’ll see when we reach Aleya.”

  “I don’t think I’ll care too much about the trees once we get there,” Joe said.

  Clive shook his head. “No, I doubt either of us will.” The man seemed sad as he stared into the fire. Or perhaps just deep in thought.

  “What’s on your mind?” Joe asked casually, hoping the man would bite.

  Clive shrugged. “Not a whole lot. The future.” He smiled. “The past for me, I guess.”

  “What, when I come to visit you?”

  Clive nodded.

  “What about it?”

  “I just remember you seemed sad,” he said. “Like you had something you wanted to tell me, but you were afraid to do it.”

  Joe’s eyebrows furrowed when he shook his head. “I can’t think of anything right now.”

  “That’s what worries me,” Clive said. “You wouldn’t know now if I’m dead once you reach the book. That’s what I feel like you might have wanted to tell me. Or will want to tell me.” He sighed. “Just…just…” This time he cleared his throat. “If it’s true that I’m dead by the time you go into The Book of Time, would you try to tell me how to avoid it?”

  “But I already told you what I told you,” Joe said. “Ain’t that all I get to say?”

  “Neither one of us knows how it works. I just figure that as a friend, you oughta tell me how I might avoid dying is all.”

  “You really think that’s what I will want to say?” Joe asked. “Why would I keep it from you?”

  “I don’t really know,” Clive said. “Maybe telling me would mess up the magic.”

  “Well, if I have any say in the matter, and I believe I will, then I will let you know what you can do to save your own skin. Maybe doing that will just change your memory of things.”

  “Maybe so.”

  “I, for one, think that if something were to happen to you, I would’ve let you know.”

  “I
appreciate it.” Clive continued to stare into the fire, a glum expression remaining. Neither one of them liked to talk about the magic of time too much, for neither of them understood it a lick. They didn’t know what could be changed, what couldn’t be changed, or if it was all just hogwash. All Joe knew was what he’d been told. All Clive knew was what he’d supposedly seen. And none of it amounted to anything sensible.

  Joe looked around at the men who had come with them. A few of them walked around, surveying the area, others worked on making a second fire. He saw Edric talking with one of their guards about something he couldn’t hear from this distance.

  Changing the subject, Joe asked in a low tone, “You still worried about him?”

  Clive shrugged. “Hadn’t thought about it much lately. He seems to be as enthusiastic about what we’re doing as the rest of us.”

  Joe had wondered a few times why they had so quickly allowed Edric to be one of them. He supposed he felt bad for the kid, having nowhere to go. He hadn’t really proven himself yet, though he hadn’t done the opposite either. Joe suspected Edric’s skills would be needed in the days to come. They would soon face more enemies than ever before.

  The two sat in silence for a while before Edric joined them at the fire. “I thought the big trees would ward off the chill a little bit,” he said. When neither of them commented, he went on to the next subject, and one that was on all of their minds. “What are you gonna do when we get to Aleya? For all we know, Slaughter and his men have already come and gone.”

  Clive shook his head at Edric. “Nah. We’ve moved pretty quick. We’ll be there in a day and a half. Okoro’s got a lot hillier terrain than us. I imagine we might get there a few days early.”

  “Yeah, but what do we watch for?” Edric asked. “I doubt he and his men are just gonna ride straight through town, yelling their names all over the place. And how do we know they’re even coming to Aleya? What if they mean to just go in that general direction? They could be heading twenty miles from town and we’d never see them.”

  “It’s a chance we will have to take,” Clive said. “My guess is that they will come to Aleya regardless. Even if the book doesn’t tell them to go there specifically, they’ll need to restock on supplies. And we’ll spread out over the city, each man keeping his eyes open. Aleya is an elf city. They ain’t too different-looking but they’re different enough. If Slaughter and his men go to the city at all, we’ll know it.”

  It was the final word over any doubt among them. They’d talked about it before, but the closer they got to the city, the more uncertain the men became. Clive even seemed more uncertain of their quest than when he’d first started, Joe thought. He supposed it was natural.

  The men ate and drank, then bedded down for the night, one man taking watch at a time. Joe tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable. He didn’t know if it was the cold air or the fear of the coming days. He didn’t have a good feeling about any of it, but he had to tell himself over and over that the future had already been determined. He’d already talked to Clive from the future. That meant he was going to get the book. That is, unless the future could change.

  The Renegades spent another day traveling through the dense woods, then made camp again. By midmorning of the next day, they had come upon the elven city of Aleya.

  Not ever having seen an elven city, Joe almost couldn’t believe what he saw. He had heard tales of cities within Elf Country, but to see it took his breath away. The entire place was built among the giant evergreens. Beyond the stone walls surrounding the city were buildings sprawled all throughout as far as they could see. And many of the dwellings and shops were not located in buildings at all, rather some stood inside hollowed out trees, provided with natural walls around them. It was a bustling place, just as busy as Tel Haven, it seemed. Yet, almost none of the people there were men or any other creatures but wood elves.

  Over the last few years, Joe had seen plenty of wood elves, so this was nothing new to him in that regard. But he admired their sharp features and graceful movements. They were a peaceful race until provoked; then they could become powerful enemies. They were not opposed to modern weapons such as guns, but often preferred weapons that the forest so plentifully provided. They could be stealthy with bows and arrows. They were unmatched in close combat with a sword. However, there was no doubt that there were storerooms within Aleya filled with guns and canons should the need ever arise. Elven soldiers were not to be caught off guard by an enemy with superior firepower.

  Galamore was technically a free and open country, so it was illegal for them to be stopped at the gates for simply wishing to go on through. One could walk straight into Tel Haven, Elf Country, Gnome Country, or even Dwarf Country, and suffer no consequence, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t cause trouble. It would be odd for a Dwarf to walk through Elf Country, simply because of the difference in location. The dwarves were far to the west while the elves were far to the east. It wasn’t too uncommon for gnomes to travel this way, however.

  History had given the dwarves and the gnomes a tight bond over the centuries. The two groups had been the ones most responsible for keeping the ravagers and the gray elves at bay. Together they had worked to be the first line of defense for everyone else in Galamore. For that reason, the gnomes and dwarves considered themselves tougher and more important than their northern allies, though men and elves alike had sent their reinforcements countless times over the years.

  Men and elves had been traditionally allies over the years, though less so now with the growing discontent caused by the DalGaard family. Many throughout Galamore had grown tired of men and their assumed superiority. It was man who organized Galamore into sections. Before man was in power, there was no such thing as Elf Country or Gnome Country or Dwarf Country, or even Gray Elf Country. It had always just been Galamore. Beyond that the only cities and territories were known only for their terrain.

  It was no secret that man commanded much of the northland in Galamore. There had never been a designation of Man’s Country, probably because man wasn’t finished expanding, and the lands of all the other races were diminishing slowly but surely.

  This being the year 903 in the Age of Man meant that man had been in charge of all of Galamore for nearly a millennium. For almost a thousand years, man had ruled over the other races, making decisions for groups who were not alike. There was one leader for all of them. And now, that man was President Jacob DalGaard. The races were all but finished with the monarch who called himself the leader of a democracy. And men like Joe and Clive stood with them. They knew the future would consist of gaining the trust of all the races if they were to start a true revolution against the president. Joe knew they would eventually have to collaborate with people like Droman and his Shadow Clan. But the biggest obstacle would be getting all the other races to work together against the president—to make it strictly a fight against the reigning government, and not to make it a race war. If it turned into a race war, then the Renegades would be fighting against their own future. Then they would become extinct along with Jacob DalGaard.

  The group of Renegades got a few stares as they crossed through the gates and into the city of Aleya. But there was no guard to ask them who they were, or what their business was within the city. The identity of the Warlord wasn’t widely known. Over the years, Clive and Joe had kept their identities as low profile as possible, making sure not to advertise their position within the group, or that they were a part of the group at all for that matter. There were certain places within the country Clive could no longer go. Joe’s face wasn’t as recognizable to some. The two of them avoided Tel Haven like the plague these days, but they especially didn’t expect anyone in Aleya to recognize them.

  Before they had reached the city, it had been decided that the guards would spread out among the streets and buildings and keep their eyes and ears open for signs of Slaughter Okoro and his group of fifteen. They were then to sweep around the outside of the city to look for encam
pments nearby. In the meantime, Joe and Clive were to stay behind at an inn and wait. Edric had been insistent that he go with the other guards, but Clive told him no on account of Slaughter knowing what he looked like.

  The day dragged on slowly, and the three men were exhausted, though neither of them slept. They took a room above a tavern in the middle of the city. Joe and Edric sat at a table off to the side while Clive leaned against a window, staring out into the streets below.

  “I never have liked coming to elven cities,” Clive said.

  “Why is that?” Joe asked.

  “They don’t have saloons and elves don’t like to gamble.”

  “That’s a fair enough reason, I suppose. We are just above a tavern, you know.”

  “Ain’t as good as a saloon. Elves are so stiff, I feel like I’m a hunchback whenever I sit next to one.”

  Joe smiled at this and leaned back in his chair, resting the back against the wall behind him. “I don’t suppose our fellas will find anything today.”

  “I suppose not.”

  The evening dragged on just as the day had. The next day was more of the same. Joe and Edric both wanted to be a part of the scouting party so badly, they could hardly stand it. But Clive had refused to let them, stating that if Slaughter Okoro caught wind of any of them being here, he’d be gone in a flash.

  “If he discovers us, we’ll never get to that book,” Clive said.

  Joe couldn’t help but notice that nervousness exuded from Clive during these days of waiting. The man was as bored as the other two, but he was sweating profusely, and pacing back and forth like he was going mad.

  Occasionally, when the walls seemed to close in all around them, choking them into insanity, they would go down into the tavern and have a drink or eat some elven food, which Clive described as too light and green to be considered an actual meal. “No wonder the elves are so thin,” he grumbled.