But one of the magic users saw him. Before Nate reached the upper doorway, he felt a sharp tug on his back and was flying through the air toward the ground before he understood what had happened.
He hit the floor and this time he knew he’d cracked a rib. The cough was involuntary and the pain was blinding. The two magic users still didn’t look at him, unafraid of anything he might try. But Nate was done trying. His leg throbbed. He didn’t know if he’d broken his ankle or not. He tried to get back to his feet, but the pain screamed through him so badly, he couldn’t help but yell out. He found himself crawling toward the wall next to the entrance of the room. When he reached it, he set his back against it and rested. He’d been defeated. He should have known he couldn’t take on a Sentinel. But Nate didn’t know the rules before he came in here. No one ever did. That’s why no man had ever made it to the key.
He watched the two fighting in furious chaos. Nate couldn’t fathom what he saw, and he knew he would never be able to describe it if he was ever given the chance.
But as Nate watched, one thing became clear: Kellen was the stronger force. The old man was beaten. Tired. Perhaps too many years of fighting people who thought they were strong enough to make it to the relic key had weighed him down. Or maybe Kellen truly was one of the strongest beings in Galamore. Nate couldn’t know.
The old man fell onto his back, raising his hands in the air to try and give one final attack. But Kellen shot out the familiar beams of light, tying and burning the man at the same time. Kellen then raised the man into the air and slammed him into the ground. Over and over. Four times he smashed the old man until there was nearly no life left in him.
The strands of light then disappeared, and Kellen looked down at his victim with a renewed smile. His eyes were wild, his hair in tangles all about his head. “You have failed your duty.” He then turned his wide stare toward Nate who remained sitting against the wall.
Nate pulled his six-shooter from its holster and Kellen almost brought up a hand to deflect any shot that might come his way, but Nate slid the gun across the floor and it coasted until it came to a stop at Kellen’s feet.
“I ain’t gonna pretend to be a match against you,” Nate said. “But before you get that key, you might want to make sure he’s dead.”
Kellen’s eyes narrowed, but he finally nodded. He bent down and picked up the gun as if it were some gross thing, used only by a lower people. But the man knew how to use it. He pulled back on the hammer and aimed the barrel at the old man’s chest and fired. Once. Twice. Three times. He did it with a smirk on his face.
Kellen then looked up at Nate for a brief moment, tossed the pistol to the ground with a loud clank, and made his way toward the stairs.
Kellen wasn’t afraid of Nate, and he knew the Sojourner wasn’t going to try and follow him. If he did, the Sentinel would snap him like a twig.
Nate had done all he could do. He crawled painfully toward the old man until he was next to him. Blood pooled all around the body and Nate was right in it.
Shallow breaths escaped the man’s lips. He was dying, there was no denying that. But Nate needed him to die quicker. He reached for the man’s wrist, his pulse faint, but still beating.
Nate looked to see Kellen walking up the stairs slowly. It was the first time Nate realized Kellen had been injured too, limping along, his right foot cocked the wrong way. Nate looked down at the old man. The beard moved as he tried to say something. Nate couldn’t hear the words at all. He pulled back the man’s hood, trying to get a clearer view of his face to better understand what he was trying to say.
The moment the light revealed the old man’s features, however, Nate’s heart almost stopped. Beneath the burns, beneath the singed beard, Nate recognized him immediately.
“No,” Nate said. “This doesn’t make any sense.”
He finally understood what the old man had been trying to say. He was saying Nate’s name. “Nathaniel… Nathaniel…”
Nate looked down at the bullet holes in his chest, wondering if there was something he could do to stop it. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. He’d already been through this.
He held the old man’s hands that became colder with every passing second. He wanted to keep him alive. His death was Nate’s fault. All Nate’s fault. The first time and this time. Why did he have to slide the gun to Kellen?
With one last breath of Nate’s name, the old man closed his eyes and died.
The sudden realization of what was about to happen struck Nate like a lightning bolt. His head jerked toward the staircase and found Kellen now on the platform.
Kellen stopped in his tracks as his skin started to turn an orange color. “What is this? What is happening?” He turned suddenly to look at Nate. “You!”
Nate didn’t dare move. He watched as Kellen’s skin turned bright red, and his flesh began to boil.
“It burns! Stop it! Stop it!”
First, his limbs caught fire, then his whole cloak was aflame. Kellen then let out a scream worse than any ravager Nate had heard. “Please no! No!”
The flames burned and lit the room brighter than the noon sun. Then, as quickly as the light had come, Nate found himself in darkness again, and Kellen was nothing more than a pile of ashes.
Nate’s heart pounded, and he looked down at the old man whose hand he still held. Nate had to fight back tears. This didn’t make any sense to him. He couldn’t understand how the man could be here.
When Nate looked at his face, past the burns, the scars, the beard, he recognized a man who had been dead for over a year. He stared at the face of his father, the late James R. Cole.
Nate
Winter, 903 A.O.M.
Nate got to his feet slowly. He felt cold. Numb. The body of his father lay on the ground in front of him, but he knew that couldn’t be possible. Nate had seen him die more than a year ago. There had been no question of it. Yet, here he was. He had been alive, then killed again.
Nate looked around him, knowing he was alone but only just now feeling it. His eyes traveled to the platform above him where the ashes of Kellen remained. The relic key was ready to be taken whenever Nate wanted it. He looked down at the body of his father one last time and shook his head, tears stinging his eyes.
Questions soared through his mind, but he knew there were no answers for him. The best he would be able to determine was that Galamore was a strange place, and this book, The Book of Life, was even stranger.
He limped toward the stairwell, pain shooting through his body. Each step upward toward the platform caused him to ache worse. Sweat dripped down the side of his head as he neared the platform. He lifted his hat and wiped his forehead with his sleeve, taking in deep breaths as he moved. The smell of burned flesh permeated the air around him. When he reached the platform at the top of the stairs, he looked down at the blackened dust, the only remnant of Kellen. His eyes traveled slowly to his father on the ground and then back to the dust. He didn’t know what he should be feeling. In one sense, there was a heavy burden of sadness upon his shoulders. In another sense, he felt relieved. Nate was about to do the one thing no man had ever been able to accomplish.
He turned from body and ash to face the open door. The room beyond was bright, but plain. The gray walls were flat and dull. The ceiling and floor were no different. The only object in the room was a short pedestal. On it, a large silver key. As Nate limped forward to it, he wondered if all he had to do was touch the key and he would be transported back to the train. Would it be so simple?
He stood in front of it and stared. The metal key was tarnished, and didn’t seem spectacular in any way. From end-to-end, it was no longer than the length of his hand. He didn’t know what he’d expected. He wasn’t sure why he thought it might have been made of pure gold inlaid with jewels. Perhaps he’d thought that because so many men had come to steal it away. But the treasure was not in the object itself, but in what it could do.
Finally, he reached his hand out to gr
ab the key. His fingers wrapped around the ancient relic and he pulled it away from the stone pedestal where it had rested for an untold number of years.
A cold wind blew past him, sending a chill through his body that threatened to immobilize him. He closed his eyes, expecting to be swept away in the magic that would take him back to the train.
But he didn’t go anywhere.
He slowly opened his eyes and saw something on the other side of the room he hadn’t seen previously. About ten feet away from him was an old wooden door. The edges glowed with an outside light, the source of which Nate couldn’t know. But he did know that he was meant to go through it. This was the way back to Galamore. Once he stepped through it, he would be back on the train.
Alban, Rachel, and Marum would be waiting for him. A train full of terrified passengers would watch in wonder as the first man to obtain a relic key appeared before them.
He took a deep breath and clenched the relic key tightly, pressing it against his chest as he moved. He paused when he stood directly in front of the door. If that old man hadn’t been his father, he wouldn’t have thought to hesitate. But here he was, feeling as though leaving here would take away any opportunity for an explanation. Perhaps that guard at the gate would know about it. Nate already had the key. The guard would surely tell him.
He shook his head at the thought. He couldn’t risk the key being taken from him. He’d gotten what he came for. There was no reason to stay. He reached his free hand in front of him and turned the doorknob, and stepped through into Galamore.
Nate felt like he was waking from a dream. Perhaps it was a nightmare. But the silver key clutched in his curled fingers told him differently.
He lay on the floor of the train. Rachel and Alban sat in front of him, their jaws hanging open. Nate looked from side to side, noticing that the train had stopped.
“Where are we?” Nate asked.
“I don’t believe it,” Alban said. “I…I can’t…”
“Where are we?” Nate repeated.
“We stopped the train,” Rachel said, shaking her head from her thoughts. “You have it? Is that the relic key?”
Nate looked down at his hand, still pressed against his chest. He then turned his eyes to meet Rachel and shook his head. “If it ain’t, then we’re in a lot of trouble.”
Alban then pointed to Nate’s side, and before he could give a word of warning, flames burst out next to him. Nate jumped to his feet away from the fire. Looking more closely, he saw that it was The Book of Life, burning from the inside out until it was a pile of ash on the ground.
The three of them stared for a long moment, but they came to attention when they heard others asking about what had happened.
“Did they say that was one of The Ancient Books?”
“What’s an ancient book?”
“Is that the relic key?”
“What’s a relic key?”
“Who is that man holding it?”
“Who are you?”
“What’s your name?”
The group was getting too excited, and Nate knew it was time to go.
He stared at the people who had been part of this terrible train ride. But they had been witness to something truly incredible—something Nate still hadn’t quite grasped.
“Who are you?” one man repeated.
Nate looked at the pile of ash on the ground, then at the key in his hand. There were two more books to find and to explore. Then there was The Book of Galamore itself.
He looked up at the people who stared at him with wide eyes and wonder. “I’m the Keeper of the books.”
Pain still shot through Nate as the three of them pushed past the passengers and found themselves out in the rolling hills once again. Thankfully, no one followed them.
“Where’s Marum?” Nate asked as Alban led them in the direction of the back of the train.
“She’s gone after the horses,” Alban said. “It has only been a few minutes.”
“Really?” Nate shook his head. “I was in there for hours.”
Alban stopped to look at him, a smile forming at the edges of his mouth. “I have so many questions. I have to say, I doubted you would return. But…”
“Father,” Rachel said, “we need to get out of here.”
“Right,” he said. “We need to get those horses quickly. There’s no telling how close Droman and his men might be. And I can tell you he wouldn’t mind this turn of events. Taking the book from us would be one thing. Taking that key would be something else entirely.” He shook his head excitedly. “History has been made today. I’m glad and terrified that I got to witness it.”
They moved quickly, though he ran with a limp. His body and leg still felt wrecked by his encounter with Kellen. It appeared that whatever had happened within the book didn’t stay in the book, which was unfortunate. That fact in itself answered a few lingering questions in Nate’s mind about Galamore. That is, if it was to be believed that The Ancient Books and the book he’d obtained in Texas for Montgomery worked in the same way. He had no reason to think they wouldn’t.
That meant if he were killed here, that was it. There was no putting a bullet in his brain and waking up in Texas. He was glad to figure that out before trying it for himself.
The three of them traveled at a hurried pace for about five minutes before they heard the sounds of pounding hooves against the ground. They were past the train now, but not far enough into the hills to hide themselves.
The three of them slowed, the realization coming to all of them that running was pointless. They turned in unison, and Nate shoved the key into his coat pocket as slyly as possible. The horsemen rode toward them with ferocity, anger etched across their faces. Nate counted about six of them, each one with a gun or a knife in his hand. At the front of them all, his hair whipping behind him in the wind, was Droman.
Nate felt a warm hand slip into his. When he looked to his left, he found Rachel staring him in the eyes assuring him that she would stand next to him, whatever the outcome.
Nate looked back at the gray elves who now pulled up on their reins. Droman was the first off his horse, followed by the other five. They stopped about ten feet away and had their guns pointed at the group of three.
Alban held his hands out in front of him, trying any means to diffuse the situation. “Droman, no. We can work something out.”
“Shut up,” Droman said, his purple eyes wide with anger.
“I won’t,” Alban said. “You and I are family. Been family a long time. You need to stop this foolishness before somebody gets hurt. Tell your men to lower their guns.”
“I said shut up, old man,” Droman seethed.
“Where’s Kellen?” Droman asked, clenching his jaw.
Alban looked at Nate slowly, but Nate kept his eyes fixed on the gray elf. “Kellen is dead.”
“I don’t believe you,” Droman said. “You couldn’t have done it. You’re not strong enough.”
Nate let go of Rachel’s hand and started walking away from her. He wanted to make sure she was clear of what was about to happen. There was no hiding the fact that Nate had the key. He would be searched. He might even be killed. But he wasn’t just about to hand it over to the gray elf. And he sure wasn’t going to use Rachel and Alban as a shield.
“Stop walking!”
Nate didn’t listen. He was a good ten feet away from Alban and Rachel when he stopped. Neither of them could be hit unless Droman ordered it or did it himself.
“I guess you could say Kellen killed himself,” Nate said.
“What are you talking about?”
Nate rested his hands on his belt, his fingers inconspicuously next to his six-shooter.
“The book.” Droman said this in realization. Then he shook his head. “But you couldn’t know he was dead unless…”
Nate nodded with a smile. “That’s right. Unless I went in after him and got the key myself.”
“Impossible.”
“Is it?”
Droman stared at the ground for a moment, almost as if he were trying to sort it all out in his head.
“I see this little situation we’ve got ending in one of two ways,” Nate said. “Either you can walk out of here with your life, or you can try to get the key off me and die.”
“What?”
“My words were plain, Droman,” Nate said. “Your men might put about twenty holes in me before I hit the ground, but I know I will at least get off one shot before I die. That one shot will be through the middle of your heart, I guarantee it.”
Droman’s eyes narrowed. “You sure about that?”
“Never been more sure of anything,” he said. “Your friends might get the key off me, but you and I will both be dead.”
“Men?” Droman said, keeping his eyes on Nate.
The five gray elves kept their guns trained on Nate as they stepped in front of Droman, blocking any shot Nate might have had.
“Care to revise your position?” Droman called out as he stood behind his men.
“I don’t mind helping,” Alban said. All eyes turned to him and he had his pistol pointed at Droman now, his hands shaking slightly.
Two of Droman’s guards aimed at Alban. Then Rachel joined them as she pulled out her pistol and aimed. It seemed that Nate was the only one without a drawn pistol.
“I don’t think you’d do it,” Droman said to both Rachel and Alban. “And I know you’re not as confident in your aim as you would like.”
“You think I want to do this, son?”
“Don’t call me son, you traitor. You’re just a man. A stinking, filthy man like the rest of them in the North. Greedy. Lacking honor.”
“I can’t speak for all of them,” Alban said, “but you know me. You know your family.”
“I want the key,” Droman said, turning back to Nate.
The Outlaw's Quest (Keeper of the Books, Book 2) Page 31