The Keeper Chronicles: The Complete Trilogy

by JA Andrews

  Sini smiled at her. “I’m so happy to meet you. I’m Sini, and I’ve been worried you wouldn’t find your way here.”

  Kate looked up at Sini in awe. “I heard a story about you and a black sword.”

  Sini paused, not sure what to say to that.

  “Excellent,” Will said, coming up beside her. “That one’s spreading quickly.”

  The party devolved into a dozen happy conversations. Kate and her family met the Keepers, Rass and Avina retreated up the tree with a plate of fruit to sit in the branches and watch the others.

  Sini and Roan were talking with the Shield, discussing plans to rebuild the Stronghold when a back gate into the courtyard opened. A small, rickety cart full of colorful trinkets rolled in. The short, wiry old man pushing it nodded his thanks to two guards who held the gate long enough for him to get through.

  “It’s our merchant!” Sini said to Roan. The same little man with the long beard who they’d met in the Lees, and again who’d sold her the yellow wine after she’d seen Lukas.

  Roan looked at the man narrowly.

  “Let’s go thank him for the dragon scale,” Sini said, heading toward him.

  “Let’s go ask him how he got into the palace,” Roan muttered.

  “Ah!” the merchant said as they approached. “My friends! I told them I knew the two of you, and they agreed I could come give you gifts on your wedding day!”

  Sini drew to a sharp stop. “It’s not our wedding day!”

  “Not yet!” Roan agreed.

  She turned to look at him with raised eyebrows. “Yet?”

  “I mean,” he said, not meeting her eyes, “it’s not our wedding, it’s theirs.” He pointed toward Will and Sora.

  “Ah,” the merchant said, amused. “My mistake.” He peered at Will and Sora for moment. “They look rather content with each other, and seeing as I came to give you gifts, I’m still going to give them.” He gave Roan a sly glance. “For whenever the happy day occurs. Now, what do you need?”

  Roan looked at him blankly.

  “He’ll need to be writing letters regularly in the near future,” Sini said.

  The merchant flashed him a smile and handed him a flat wooden box. It was plain, but well-made. The top hinged open and inside was a stack of paper and three writing sticks.

  “A letter writing kit, small and light enough for even a traveling soldier to carry,” the merchant explained. He turned to Sini, but she shook her head.

  “I have plenty of paper and pens. I don’t think I need anything.”

  “Ah,” he said, raising one finger in the air and taking on a pedantic air. “A person at ease with themselves needs for nothing.”

  “A quote from Flibbet the Peddler!” Sini looked at the man with a new respect.

  “That man was a genius,” the merchant said. He studied Sini for a moment. “But I already have your gift picked out. And perhaps it is not much of a gift, because unless I am mistaken, it already belongs to you.” He reached into a small dish on his cart and pulled out her garnet ring.

  Sini’s mouth dropped open and she took it. Little bits of vitalle swirled in the gemstone. She slipped it on her finger. “How did you find this?”

  “After battles, soldiers always have things to sell. Although usually they’re more along the lines of weapons than jewelry. I decided if it was important enough to you that you wouldn’t trade it for yellow wine when you looked desperate for a drink, that maybe it was something you would like back.”

  She pushed a little vitalle toward the ring and the garnet flared brighter. “Thank you.” She gripped his hand. “I thought this was lost.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “Maybe it’s something you needed that you didn’t even think of.”

  “No.” The ring didn’t look quite the same on her finger. It still fit, but she’d grown used to her hand without it over the past few days, and she realized that even if she wore it, it wasn’t part of her. It was like a quill or a book. Something useful. “I don’t need it. It’s just a tool given to me by a friend.” Remembering why she’d first come over, she added, “The dragon scale you gave us turned into a handy tool as well.”

  “Excellent, excellent,” he nodded, blinking at them kindly.

  Will called for everyone’s attention. The sun was low over the hills to the west. “In Sora’s clan,” he said, standing next to a brazier that had just been lit, “they have a tradition at weddings to burn away old fears and begin anew. Everyone participates, and I have plenty of paper. So come up, toss your old fears into the flames and begin anew.”

  Sini and Roan gave their thanks to the little merchant and walked up to the fire. Little slips of paper were set next to it on a table, and Sini picked one up. There were a handful of beautiful long feather quills, as well, and she rolled one between her fingers as she thought.

  Roan scribbled down his answer quickly and she leaned over to read it, but he folded it up, then with a flourish dropped it into the fire. Flames licked at the paper immediately.

  Sini turned back to her own. What old fear was it time to give up?

  The last weeks had been full of so many different fears, she couldn’t choose just one.

  The night before, in the book of quotes by Chesavia, she’d again come across the words the Shield had quoted to her so long ago in the library.

  The day is shaped not by the violence of the storm, but by the fall of the light and the voice of the rain.

  The people in the courtyard milled around her in a comfortable buzz of conversation. Whether they were Keepers or friends or dwarves or elves, they felt like family. There were gaps still, places where Rett should be, and Lukas. But the ones who were here felt like home.

  The storm had been violent and the losses from it were still raw, but the voices around her and the play of the sunlight over it all changed things.

  It was obvious what old fear to write.

  I do not belong.

  She folded the paper, then folded it again until it was a thick, hard little rectangle. Then she held her hand out, set the paper against her garnet, and set it on fire.

  Epilogue

  The Shield waited until the young people had stepped away from the little old merchant before he stood. His back had ached more than usual since the long ride here to the palace, and he gladly took a seat next to the old man on a bench near his cart.

  “Hello, old friend,” the Shield said quietly, watching people drop their fears into the fire. “Would you like an avak?”

  The merchant’s face lit up. “I would!” He took a big bite and chewed it with relish. “What happened to your hair?”

  The Shield smiled. “I ran out of a use for it long ago.”

  “And your height?”

  “That’s what happens when people get old. They shrink.”

  “I wouldn’t know.” the merchant answered. “This is a nice group you’ve got here.”

  “I’m rather proud of them. I don’t suppose you’d like to be introduced?”

  “No. This is a day for them, not for old men.”

  The Shield sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the bright taste of the avak. “A few of the Keepers think these fruits have magical powers.”

  “Maybe they do. I’ve always found them surprisingly refreshing.” The merchant took another bite. “Although I think any magic they may have is the little, everyday magic. Like the smell of a rainstorm. Or the way a bright flower lifts a heavy heart.”

  The Shield grunted and finished his fruit. “I thought you were done interfering.”

  “Well, I was already involved in this whole thing from long ago. I thought I might as well see it out. Retirement can be a bit dull, honestly. Although I get more writing done than I used to.”

  The Shield’s fluffy eyebrows twitched up in interest. “I don’t suppose you brought any with you?”

  “Now you want a gift too?”

  “I’m always looking for books.”

  “Only because you
take such good care of them,”—the merchant leaned over and pulled a set of three slim books out of the back of his cart—“and because I know you’ll do anything to protect your library.” He handed them to the Shield.

  The tiny bald man grinned broadly. “This has been a very good day.”

  “It has. Well—” The merchant stood. “—good luck with all the changes you have going on.” He waved his hands at the others. “Things look to be headed in a nice direction.”

  “They do indeed.”

  The merchant lifted the handles of his cart and started to push it toward the gate again.

  “Do you think we’ll meet again?” the Shield asked.

  “Who can tell the future?”

  The guards outside the gate pulled it open and the old man pushed his rickety cart out of the courtyard. The gates closed behind him and the Shield opened the cover of one of the books on his lap.

  Retirement: Friend or Foe?

  by Flibbet the Peddler.

  The Shield ran his fingers over the colorful, swirly letters. “Goodbye, old friend.”

  THE END

  From the Author

  Thank you for reading The Keeper Chronicles. I hope you enjoyed reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them.

  A review is worth more to an author than a way to actually fight off a dragon would be to the Keepers.

  If you enjoyed The Keeper Chronicles and have the time to leave a review, you can do so on Amazon.

  You can see a list of all my books on my website at jaandrews.com.

  Thank you,

  Janice

  Tomkin and the Dragon

  A bookish, unheroic hero, a maiden who's not remotely interested in being rescued, and a dragon who'd just like to eat them both.

  “When they request a story from you,

  tell Tomkin and the Dragon. I love that one.”

  ~ Evangeline

  If you’d like to read the story of Tomkin and the Dragon that was mentioned in the Keeper Chronicles, it is published under the title A Keeper’s Tale: The Story of Tomkin and the Dragon and you can find it for sale on Amazon.

  Acknowledgments

  A Threat of Shadows:

  Thank you to Cheryl Schuetze for your unending patience with my questions, rants, insecurities, and updates through phone calls, emails, texts, and any other form of communication I could think of to bother you with. Your help has been invaluable.

  To the Fantasy Faction, thank you for the excellent critiques and the camaraderie. Special thanks to GL Burke, Caroline Sciriha, Sherry Bessette, Joey Harpel, Sam Taylor, Morgyn Star, and Rod Santos for all your input. Without the group, this book would still be a random collection of chapters that don’t quite work together.

  To Shelley “Sherlock” Holloway, thank you for your amazing editing, your eye for detail, your patience with my semi-scatterbrained ways, and all the commas.

  And most of all, thank you to my husband. You’ve been unfailingly supportive and generous while I’ve tried to wrangle this book into shape. And you’ve been more than patient, waiting for almost a decade to actually read this story. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I love you.

  Pursuit of Shadows:

  Thank you Karyne Norton and Cheryl Schuetze for endless conversation about plots and helping to corral the bloated early drafts of Will’s story. You two helped more than I can express. Cecilia Sells, thank you for your unending patience and enthusiasm through my year and a half of complaint and whines about writing. You’re a constant encouragement to me. Katie Cross, thanks for the emergency story structure Facetime meeting. It’s what put this story right.

  To the unnamed order of authors who have taught me so much and given me hope that this writing thing might work, you know who you are, and I adore you all.

  Thanks to my three kids for your patience while mom wrestled with the book, and for giving me quiet time to work when you had so many interesting things to talk about.

  But as always, most of all, thank you to my husband. You are the only reason I’ve kept going through the times when I felt like I couldn’t do it, but you believed I could. You make me a better person. Thank you for letting me ramble about writing and story structure and marketing, and for coming up with the best ideas. I love you so much. Can’t wait for the next 20 years of our story.

  Siege of Shadows:

  To Karyne Norton, thank you so much for your invaluable advice. It is true that this book should read “by JA Andrews wiz Karyne Norton.”

  Cheryl Schuetze, thank you again for all your plotting help and ideas, and your emergency beta read crammed in between post-surgery, drug-induced highs.

  To my favorite group of authors who are always there with knowledge and snarkiness, I adore you all, whether you’re living, passed on, or have gone over to the dark side.

  Thanks to my three kids for your patience while I worked like crazy to get this one done. Thanks for being willing to hold all your questions about life and quotes from books you were reading until my writing time was over. And thanks for always being willing to put off the homeschool school day until I had time.

  But most of all, thank you to my husband for your unfailing support and enthusiasm. Thank you for willingly playing xbox at night so I can write more and for discussing plot questions and character development. I’m so excited for the future and al the new things. Love you to the top of the sky.

  About the Author

  JA Andrews is a writer, wife, mother, and unemployed rocket scientist. She doesn't regret the rocket science degree, but finds it generally inapplicable in daily life. Except for the rare occurrence of her being able to definitively state, "That's not rocket science." She does, however, love the stars.

  She spends an inordinate amount of time at home, with her family, who she adores, and lives in the Rocky Mountains of Montana, where she can see more stars than she ever imagined.

  For more information:

  www.jaandrews.com

  jaandrews@jaandrews.com