The Keeper Chronicles: The Complete Trilogy

by JA Andrews

  Evangeline blinked and shoved herself back, her face filling with horror.

  Will gulped in a breath of air, the coldness rushing into his lungs. He fell forward to his knees and Sora grabbed his shoulders, keeping him from toppling over. His vision cleared and he coughed, the air stinging in his throat.

  Evangeline stared down at her trembling hands, backing away slowly. “What happened? Will…I’m so sorry. I don’t know…”

  “You were touching the stone.” Sora motioned to the blue stone she’d tossed into the corner of the tunnel. “The one Killien used to convince a dragon to hunt Will.”

  “I hated you,” Evangeline said, kneeling in front of Will, her face stricken. “I’m so sorry. I don’t…I’m so sorry.”

  Alaric crossed the tunnel and pulled a cloth out of his pack. Carefully, keeping the fabric between his hand and the stone, he tucked the gem into the bag and tied it shut. “Doesn’t seem like something that should be left lying around.”

  Will dropped his head forward, trying to slow his breathing.

  “Are you alright?” Sora asked quietly.

  He nodded, and she helped him stand.

  Evangeline stepped back, her hand trembling and covering her mouth.

  “It’s not your fault.” Will’s words came out as a half-whisper. “Killien’s really angry at me. That stone was strong enough to influence a dragon. Of course it would influence you, too.”

  “We should move,” Hal whispered, pointing to the gap between Anguine’s head and the tunnel wall.

  Will nodded and Sora, after giving him a critical look, let go of his arm.

  Alaric hesitated in front of the dragon. Anguine watched the Keeper, still calm.

  “That stone.” Alaric pointed to the one hanging on one of the spikes near Anguine’s shoulder. “The one Killien used to pull the life out of that man, may I see it?”

  I have no loyalty to that Torch, Anguine said, anger lacing the last word. Do you intend to kill the Torch with it?

  “No.” Alaric’s hand went to his own necklace. “No. I’m strongly against killing people in such a manner. I want to see how much of the man has been captured, and whether there is a way to…heal the man it came from.”

  The dragon stared at Alaric for a long moment. You are welcome to take the stone, but the Roven man smelled dead. He tilted his head slightly and fixed a thin-slitted eye on Alaric. Unless you can return people from the dead?

  “No.” Alaric paused, considering the dragon. “Can you?”

  No.

  Alaric walked carefully between Anguine’s neck and the wall of the hallway, sliding the amber stone off the long, crimson spike. He held it in his hand and closed his eyes. A flicker of darkness crossed over his face before he opened them again. “This was crudely done. There is too little vitalle here to do anything.”

  Anguine lifted his head and sniffed the air. Disgust rippled through him. The caves fill with filth, and a battle bleeds below. Give me the sky. The dragon’s hunger returned, this time for the freedom of flight and the scent of blood.

  He snaked his head around, twisting his long neck like a scarlet snake back out of the tunnel. With a dry slither, he disappeared into the main cavern.

  Will cast out and felt the blazing vitalle of the dragon launch out of the cave and dive down toward the fighting with a swell of exultation that faded as the dragon fell away.

  Sora suddenly tensed and spun looking back down the tunnel just as the scent of rotten meat slid into the tunnel. Footsteps slapped along the tunnel floor and a frost goblin scrambled around the corner.

  Patlon stepped forward and crushed the creature’s skull with a swing of his axe. Will cast out exactly when Alaric did and the echoes came back of three more goblins, rushing closer.

  Douglon and Patlon took up positions next to each other, axes ready.

  “About time we found something to fight smaller than a dragon,” Patlon muttered.

  “Did they follow us?” Douglon asked.

  The wave of Alaric casting out ran down the tunnel again. “No. They’re coming from somewhere down below.”

  “Storage cellars,” Hal said. “They must have dug into them.”

  “This is our way out?” Alaric asked, pointing back the way they’d come. At Hal’s nod, he turned to Will “We’ll figure out where they’re coming from and try to block it. You go find Ilsa.”

  Another goblin reached the corner and Douglon dispatched it quickly. Will cast out again. A troubling tumult of vitalle echoed through the rocks below them.

  “Alaric,” he warned.

  “I feel them. Hurry.” Alaric’s gaze searched around the tunnel. “It’d be nice if there was something to draw energy from.”

  Evangeline opened several of the doors near them. “How about fires? There are things in these storage rooms that would burn.”

  “Fires would be perfect.”

  “Let’s go,” Hal said. Will and Sora followed him, leaving Alaric and Evangeline to their fires, and the dwarves swinging at the next trickle of frost goblins.

  They hurried down the tunnel the way the dragon had gone and peered out into the sunlight of the main cavern. Far in the back, muted voices could be heard echoing from the smaller cave the Torches were in, but no one was visible. Hal motioned for them to hurry, and they followed him across. In a few steps the main opening gaped next to them, overlooking the Sweep. Cries and clashes and screams came over the ledge. Below, along the edge of the lake, hordes of frost goblins poured out of warrens, streaming into the camps of Roven.

  Will hesitated for a moment. Greyish-green bodies of the frost goblins piled up, but Roven bodies lay on the ground as well. The goblins seemed disoriented as they ran out into the bright sunlight, and the Roven took advantage of their confusion, shooting and hacking into the swarm. The stonesteeps from the Sunn Clan stood near two of the warrens, shooting arcs of energy into the midst of the goblins. Wisps of black smoke rose from dark smudges on the ground.

  A new warren opened as Will watched, and a stream of frost goblins spilled out, plowing into a band of warriors. A quick fear for Rass’s safety surfaced, but he pushed it away. She could take care of herself.

  Sora nudged his back and he started walking again. Sunlight fell warm on his arm and face. Hal hurried them across the cavern toward the hallway Lukas had disappeared down. The passage was wide and smooth, roomy enough for the three of them to walk side by side. It dimmed as they walked farther from the main cavern. They came to a turn to the left and Hal raised his hands for them to wait. He stepped around the corner and Will strained to hear anything in the silence.

  In a moment, Hal came back, his face troubled.

  “This is as far as I’ll be able to take you.” Hal held up his hand to quiet Sora’s objection. “Three of the clans have left guards at their rooms. I can lead them away so you can reach Killien’s rooms. The Morrow’s quarters are the last ones. Get Ilsa and get out of here.” He turned to Will. “After everything we just saw, after everything Killien has done, I need to go to the enclave. I don’t know if he’ll listen to me right now, but at a time like this, my place is next to him.”

  Will nodded. “Thank you for everything. And I hope you can convince Killien to…”

  Hal ran his hand through his hair. “Return to sanity? So do I.”

  “Will you tell him we’re here?” Sora asked.

  Hal shook his head. “But I won’t lie to him either. He’ll probably figure it out on his own. You won’t have much time.”

  Will held out his hand, and Hal grasped it around the wrist in the Roven style.

  “Around this corner there’s an alcove you two can hide in. I’ll have to bring the guards back past here, this is the only way out.”

  The alcove was a natural recess in the rock only a few steps deep, but it turned to the left, and Will backed himself into the darkest part until the rough stone wall dug into his back. Sora came in and pressed her back up against him, facing out of the alcove, a kni
fe in her hand.

  Hal disappeared. The tunnel was dim, so it was almost black in the alcove. Will could just see the outline of Sora’s head. She shifted her shoulders and the light glinted off her knife. Her head was right in front of him and the earthy, woody scent of her leathers filled the space.

  “You smell good,” he whispered and she twisted around and he could just make out her incredulous look. “You always have. I thought it that very first night when you snuck into my room. You were terrifying, but you smelled good.”

  The edge of a smile crept into her face. “This isn’t exactly the time, Will.” The dim light caught on a strand of copper in her braid as she turned away from him.

  He leaned close to her ear. “If this isn’t the time, do you think there will be one? Maybe later?”

  He felt more than heard her laugh.

  “There’s not going to be a later if you keep making noise,” she breathed.

  “You’ll know when they’re coming,” he pointed out. “I’m just trying to determine if it’s the sentiment or the timing you’re objecting to.”

  “I’m objecting to the volume,” she whispered. “And don’t even think about using your creepy magical skills to read how I’m feeling.”

  “There’s no need for that. I’m quite good at reading people even without my amazing magical skills.”

  “Then you know that Hal is about to betray us to Killien?”

  “No, he’s not.”

  “The moment Killien sees him, he’ll know you’re here.”

  Will let out a long breath. “Maybe, but that’s hardly the same thing as betraying us. Hal can hardly help Killien while he’s creeping around tunnels with us. You have to admit that today is a significant day for the Morrow. And Killien could use some help.”

  “Yes, with the murders and the threats and the slaughter.”

  “I’m not saying I approve of it,” Will said. “But Hal has a level head, and adding him to the situation can only improve it. It’s not like Killien’s going to listen to me if I ask him to stop.”

  “It feels wrong to do nothing.”

  “I agree.” Will leaned his head back against the hard stone. “I just have no idea what to do. He’s taken his revenge on Ohan, and he’s called the frost goblins. Anything we wanted to stop has already happened.”

  “They’re coming,” she whispered.

  Will cast out and felt a jumble of vitalle coming closer down the hallway.

  “Ohan’s dead.” Hal’s voice echoed loudly. “The Torches are discussing the future of the Sweep.”

  Hal passed their alcove, facing away from them down the tunnel, followed by three other Roven. Will drew in a breath and pressed himself back against the rocks, but none of them looked into the alcove. In a moment they were out of view, and a dozen heartbeats later, not even Hal could be heard.

  Sora motioned him to stay still and crept out into the tunnel. In a matter of breaths, she was back. “Empty.”

  He followed her out and around the next turn into the long tunnel with doors lining the right hand side along what must be the face of the mountain.

  “If Lukas is in there with Ilsa,” Sora said, “We’ll have to keep him from leaving and telling Killien.”

  Will nodded. Lukas’s scowling presence wasn’t going to make this discussion any smoother. At the end of the hall, he pushed gently on the Morrow’s door and it swung open enough to let him see a sliver of a stone room, well-lit with sunlight. The shushing sound of the endless wind filled it. He pushed the door farther to reveal a small common room with a wide, open window looking out over the Sweep. Several small tables sat near the back and a fireplace was carved into the outside wall. A few closed doors filled the wall to his left.

  Alone in the room, standing in front of the fire with her back to him, stood Ilsa.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Will’s breath caught in his throat.

  There was something achingly familiar about the way she stood. He was young again, standing in his home, watching his mother cook. The longing that memory evoked in him took his breath away.

  Ilsa pulled a shallow pan out of the fire and the Roven smell of roasting sorren seeds cut through his memory like a rusted knife.

  He stopped in the doorway, unwilling to make a sound, suddenly terrified she would turn around and see him. He spun his ring. Ilsa stood at a wooden ledge in front of the fire, mixing the seeds into something in a clay bowl. The wind outside gusted past, filling the room with its irregular shushing sound.

  Giving him a little push, Sora stepped into the room and positioned herself just inside the door, scanning the room, probably wondering where Lukas was, and keeping watch down the hall. The wind filled the room with a sound more like the ocean than the Sweep.

  Sora looked expectantly at Will. When he didn’t say anything, she said quietly, “Ilsa?”

  Ilsa glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes widened at Sora, but when she saw Will she spun around, clutching a rag to her chest.

  “You!” Her face grew pale.

  Will opened his mouth to say…something, but her surprised look shifted to outrage and the words stuck in his throat.

  Sora waited expectantly for a moment before sighing. “Ilsa, we’re not here to hurt you.”

  Ilsa turned accusing eyes on Will. “Haven’t you done enough to the Torch?”

  The strangeness of the accusation freed his voice. “To Killien?”

  “He’s been furious since you left, stealing some valuable book.”

  Will stepped forward. “Left? You mean when I escaped from the prison he was keeping me in? While threatening to kill you if I didn’t cooperate?”

  She paused at his words, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “The Torch has never threatened me.”

  “When he brought you with him to the rift,” he said, his anger at Killien pushing its way to the surface, “he had a warrior behind you with a knife drawn, just so I wouldn’t say anything he didn’t want.”

  She shook her head. “Those warriors were there to control you.”

  “By threatening you!” he shouted and Sora hissed at him to be quiet. Will rubbed his hand over his mouth and pulled it down into his beard. This was not the way this conversation was supposed to go.

  “Will you please just leave?” Her face was still hard, but there was a note of pleading in her voice. She wrung the rag. “He’s so angry with you.” Her eyes flickered to Sora. “And with you. If he finds you two here...I don’t know what he’ll do.”

  Will took a step forward and she flinched back, pressing herself against the ledge. The fear that flashed through her eyes stabbed into him like a knife, pinning down his next words—the words he needed to say. His heart pulsed in his ears with an almost feral thrumming as he shoved the words out.

  “I can’t leave without you.”

  She dropped her hands to her side and her eyes went flat. “Leave.”

  “I’m your brother, Ilsa.”

  She leaned away from him. “He said you’d say something crazy. That if you ever talked to me, you’d try to make me come with you. But you’re a liar. You spent weeks with the Morrow lying to everyone.”

  “I’m a Keeper, from Queensland.” Will wanted to step closer but Sora put a hand on his arm. “I did lie about that, for obvious reasons. But I’m here on the Sweep because I’ve been looking for you. For a very long time.”

  Ilsa’s eyes flickered toward Sora. “The Torch trusted you,” she accused. “And you’re here, with him.”

  Sora nodded slowly. “Will’s not what Killien says he is. He’s a good man, and he really has been looking for you.”

  “How could you know he’s telling the truth?” Ilsa’s tone was scathing.

  Sora paused. “I believe Will thinks you’re his sister.” She gave a small shrug. “And you two do resemble each other.”

  Ilsa let out an exasperated huff. “That means nothing.”

  “You were two when they took you,” Will said and Ilsa’s gaze snap
ped over to him.

  “Anyone could have told you that.”

  “I was eleven. Do you remember anything about home?”

  Her jaw tightened and she shook her head slightly, and Will felt a jab of both heartache and relief. It must have made it easier for her not to remember, but it felt like a whole new theft, a violation to have also robbed her of those memories.

  “We lived in a one-room cottage with our parents on a very small farm with a goat and a dozen chickens.”

  Ilsa shook her head quickly, raising one hand toward him. “Stop, you could say anything, and I have no way of knowing if you’re telling the truth. What I do know is that you lied to people that I respect, so I have no reason to believe you. Please,” she pleaded with him, “you two are in terrible danger. Leave before the Torch returns.”

  Will squeezed his eyes shut as the memory of her being pulled out the window came back with perfect clarity. Vahe’s furious eyes, Ilsa’s terrified face, her hand clutching her doll. Will’s eyes snapped open. “You had a doll.”

  Ilsa stiffened.

  “The night they took you, you were holding a rag doll. It was…really ugly. It had no hair and the face had rubbed off. The head was squished to the side because you slept with it every night.”

  Ilsa’s hands clenched the rag against her chest, her face pale.

  “It was so ugly, but I couldn’t bear to tell you that because you loved it so much. So I told you it was hideous, because I knew you wouldn’t understand the word. You thought I’d named her, so you called her Hiddy.”

  Ilsa flinched.

  “A man named Vahe took you.”

  At his name, Ilsa drew in a sharp breath.

  “He wasn’t coming for you.” The pressure of it grew in his chest until he could barely speak. “He was there for me.”

  Her eyes snapped open, but Will couldn’t meet them.

  “All these years, it should have been me here, not you.” The words strangled out. “If I’d have just gone with him, he would have left you alone.” He forced himself to meet her eyes. “I didn’t know.”