The Keeper (The Endless Chronicles Book 1)

by Nikki Mccormack

“If you are no god, then you are alone, as I am. For a short time, mightn’t we appreciate the company of one another?”

  Such presumption. And curiosity. Hers as much as his. The twining roots felt tight upon her arm and shoulder. Warning or anticipation? She looked into his deep blue eyes. They were very old, those eyes. “Be quick then. I do not wish to linger here.”

  That was true. Something or someone in the Undercity, in this hotel in particular, beckoned her. Not in the sense of spirit that needed keeping, but something else, at once familiar and strange. Whatever it was, it made her uneasy and she dreaded coming here.

  Was that a smirk she saw before he turned back to his packing?

  The glimpses of a manner that bordered on disrespect didn’t reconcile with the reverence he’d shown her at first. Perhaps she should have let him continue to regard her as a god, but, for reasons she didn’t understand, she didn’t like to see him kneeling before her. That was why she agreed to travel with him, out of mere curiosity. Besides, the Blooded Women did not care where she wandered, so long as she was there when a spirit needed keeping. Wandering the world unseen and alone had lost its novelty many incarnations ago.

  Naago closed his pack. He tucked the sword into a sheath at his belt then pulled on a long brown leather duster and matching hat, both scuffed, faded and scarred with hard use. After scanning the room once, he threw the pack over one shoulder and pulled the hat down so the brim shadowed his face.

  “Shall we.” He gestured to the door.

  She didn’t move. This was wrong somehow and yet somehow comfortable. “I will follow you.”

  He shrugged and moved past, picking up a hard case that sat in the shadows near the door on his way out. “If you like.”

  She followed him from the room and out into the dark streets of the Undercity. Those streets smelled of blood, old and fresh. Some of it came from the meat processing plant at the east edge of the district, but most came from the many fighting rings. There were twenty-five registered rings and another fifteen or so operating without permits. She had been called to keep in several of them. The city’s enforcers raided the illegals and put in a token effort at shutting them down on occasion, but the self-titled warlords who ran the Undercity were always a step ahead. They hired people to pose as vagrants among the thousands living on those dark streets and give warning whenever enforcers started a sweep.

  They were out there now among the beggars, petty criminals, and thrill seekers; men and women who watched for the warlords, risking punishments much worse than death for the ability to feed themselves and their families. There was a certain shrewdness in their eyes when they thought no one was watching that gave them away, and they never knew when she was watching. They gave Naago measuring looks, but only him. Their eyes slid past her as if she were not there.

  The Endless man was attentive enough to notice the behavior before they’d walked more than half a block. “Why don’t they look at you?”

  “It is the cloak. It lets me be seen only when I choose to be seen by whom I choose to let see me. When I keep, I must be seen because all should know when a spirit worthy of keeping has passed. The rest of the time, it is my choice to be seen or not.”

  A battered flyer buzzed loudly past, the breeze that rose in its wake blowing back Naago’s duster. Her cloak didn’t move. He noticed this too.

  “Damn. It’s as if you aren’t even there. I could use a cloak like that.”

  “To them, I am not here.”

  He glanced around at the eyes of the many humans, demons, and crossbreeds roaming the street and his expression soured. “Oh. That’s nice. So they think I’m talking to myself?”

  A rare thrill of amusement spread warm through her chest and brought a slight curve to her lips. “I imagine they do.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Someone rang the singing stone outside his hut. The warm, rich tone of the stone’s song drew Deynas up from a restless sleep. He sat on the edge of the stone slab that served as his bed. The bedding needed refreshing. It had for some time now. Because of that, his body ached as if he’d slept the night with nothing between him and the hard stone.

  “Deynas.”

  Misa.

  He stared at his bare feet, toes curling on loose strands in the rough woven carpet alongside the bed. Yesterday’s clothes lay in a heap on one corner of the carpet. It was time to do some washing. When Argus was around, he’d learned to find ways of keeping up with those mundane chores. She teased him about the state of his room when he let it go and made him work twice as hard in training. Without her, old habits crept back in. Maybe, if he let it get bad enough, her spirit would come back to chastise him.

  A soft, weary chuckle slipped between his lips at the thought.

  “Come on, Deynas. Master Kochan said you would take us to chase the wind today. He needs a message sent.”

  His hands tightened on the edge of the stone slab.

  Why give him such a task when he had training to do? Plenty of temporal warriors in the village at the base of the cliff were capable enough flyer pilots to chase the wind. Was Kochan trying to distract him from his troubles? Or perhaps the Endless master meant to show him that he was sending the message to the other master with haste to reassure him. Either way, sending him out with Misa and her younger brother was far from the most effective way to get his mind off Argus. They were the two children he’d led out of the city the night Argus died. They were the reasons he couldn’t stay and save her… or die trying.

  “Deynas? Are you in there?” Misa was starting to sound uncertain.

  He rubbed his eyes and stood. “I’ll be right out.”

  Perhaps this was a test of his flying skills. He would have to take out one of the bigger flyers to accommodate his passengers. He hadn’t flown one of those since his early training days and then only a couple of times. They weren’t as agile as the smaller birds like his.

  There was nothing suitable for flying in the folded stack of clean clothes on the shelf, so he dug through the piles on the floor until he found a one piece training uniform that didn’t make him feel woozy when he sniffed it. It was the appropriate grey and blue of a flying suit at least, which meant it must have been on the floor for over a month. Long enough for the stench of sweat to dissipate. Unbidden memories crept in while he stepped into the suit.

  He was fastening the last button on the front of the uniform when the door swung open and Argus stepped in, backlit by bright sunlight, auburn locks tossed by a gentle breeze. The four small Endless braids, soon to be five, hung heavier than the rest.

  Her intense gaze swept around his room. Disapproval stiffened her posture. “Look at this disaster.”

  He gaped at her for a moment, still half-asleep, then he glanced around at the messy room. His cheeks grew hot. “Training’s been keeping me so busy. I…”

  She laughed, her posture relaxing and a sudden smile bringing the sunlight into the room. Then she stepped around him and put a hand in his back, pushing him toward the door. “Don’t think I’m going to lighten up on you so you can keep up with your chores. You’ll have to sleep less.”

  He stepped through the door and glanced over his shoulder at her, wanting to catch another glimpse of her smile.

  “Come along, tenderfoot.” She winked. “Let’s fly.”

  His whole body warmed in response to her teasing, a burst of fresh energy flowing through him.

  Tears stung his eyes. One hand balled into a fist and he swung out, connecting with the unyielding stone wall. Pain and regret rewarded the action.

  “Son-of-a-bitch!” He curled over his hand and gritted his teeth against blossoming pain. He was lucky he hadn’t broken it. As it was, he’d split the skin over two knuckles.

  “Deynas? You all right?”

  “Yep, fine. One more minute.”

  “Alright.”

  After rinsing the blood away in the basin, he wrapped the knuckles with a strip of cloth and ran a comb through his hair. Still no brai
ds for the teeth to catch upon. What he wouldn’t give to have that to complain about.

  A song crept into the room, the deep tones, rising and falling, carefully drummed out on the singing stone. Misa was getting restless. Adolescent impatience played out on the stone. He listened a moment, letting the neatly crafted tune eat away at his melancholy until he could muster a smile again. Then he tucked his mother’s pendant under his shirt and jerked open the door.

  Misa startled, jumping back and stumbling over her own feet. She looked up at him with wide brown eyes that narrowed quickly.

  “You did that on purpose.”

  He grinned. “Yes, I did. Where’s Ren?”

  “He ran to get some seed bread.”

  “Not even going to let me sit down for breakfast in the hall first?”

  She smiled, a sparkle of excitement gleaming in her eyes. “Nope. We’re going up.” One finger pointed to the bright morning sky. “Besides, Master Kochan said you’d be in a hurry to get this message off.”

  He looked up. There was almost no breeze and a few wispy clouds lay white across the blue sky like paintbrush strokes. Going up this early would avoid the heat of the day, but there would be very few wind spirits active in that tranquil sky.

  “What happened to your hand?”

  “Nothing.” His knuckles throbbed in disagreement. He looked at her. “You have the message?”

  “Of course.” She tapped the pocket sewn into the arm of her flight suit for carrying such message vials. “What’s in it?”

  Her sly sideways glance had an edge of sultry in it that threw him off for a few seconds. He gave himself a mental shake and turned to look up the road toward where the landing pad waited. “Shall we go pick out our flyer?”

  “Yes.” There was a hint of a pout on her lips before she bounded ahead of him, her youthful energy burning through his lingering fog of sleep.

  She had already picked out a newer pale grey and lavender flyer and was fiddling with the harness straps in the inset passenger seat when Ren caught up carrying a small basket containing several slices of seed bread slathered in honey butter and three small cups. The cups were for the teapot dangling from two fingers under the basket. The ungainliness of his age making it all look far more precarious than it probably was. Deynas took the basket and the teapot. They sat upon the deck of the craft and made quick work of the meal. Then Ren set the dishes on a workbench and hopped into the seat.

  Misa followed him and they strapped themselves in, checking one another’s buckles before pulling on their goggles. They were both enthusiastic and attentive students. Misa was old enough that her brunette hair hung down to her shoulders to show that she had begun training to join the Endless ranks. Long enough to braid if she ascended, but restricted to exactly that length until she either ascended or was denied a place among The Undying’s chosen. Ren, his short-cropped hair a shade lighter than his sister’s, had less than a year to go before he could officially declare whether he would try for Endless or be satisfied with the status and life expectancy of a temporal tribesman.

  Becoming Endless required years of rigorous training and sacrifice, and there was no guarantee of ascendance no matter how hard one worked for it. Those who did ascend were sworn to protect the rest of the tribe in times of danger. Many people chose to forego the possibility of extraordinary longevity in favor of enjoying the more certain temporal life free from the burden of martial service and constant training expected of the Endless. It took a special fire in one’s spirit to earn a place as one of The Undying’s favored children. Misa had that fire. Ren didn’t seem to, not yet, but there was still time.

  Deynas rechecked their straps himself and took the message vial from Misa, tucking it into the pocket on his suit before he walked to the fore of the craft. He buckled his feet down into the insets on the deck of the flyer and adjusted the pedals so that he could reach them with his toes. Then he stood straight, resting his back against the support stand and buckled on the harness that would hold him upright against it. He faced forward over the pointed beak of the craft and adjusted the independent hand control rods to the right height. When he was satisfied, he put on his goggles and twisted the key to turn on the flyer.

  With a low whistle and a sharp hissing noise, the craft came to life and rose to hover about three feet above the stone landing pad. The landing legs whirred as they retracted up into small compartments in the bottom. It wobbled when he adjusted his balance. He shifted from side to side to get a feel for its responsiveness, rocking the craft back and forth until the tips of the long wings gently tapped the stone. Precision was crucial to flying. The smallest movement could have significant impact upon the craft in the air. When he felt comfortable, he gave it more fuel with the thumb throttle and pulled the hand levers back enough to get a nice, gradual lift.

  As soon as they were clear of the landing area and high enough to avoid striking the tail on the ground, he plunged his thumb down on the throttle and pulled back hard. The flyer surged upward on a steep ascent. Misa’s delighted squeal brought a grin to his lips.

  Warm air whipped around them, creating a wind of their own. Deynas took his thumb off the throttle, letting the craft hang in the air for a second before it began to drop. His long black hair blew into his face. Then he pushed the levers forward to different degrees and hit the throttle again, surging into a long, banking right turn that swept his hair back again. From there, he straightened the craft then dove, pulling up hard again several feet above the red stone of the temple spire.

  Misa giggled in delight again. Ren’s laugh sounded strained.

  Deynas nodded to himself. The big flyer wasn’t as agile as his was, but he had it well under control. He took them up then, waving at a few patrol flyers running watch circuits on the way past, and holding a gradual ascent until they were high enough to run with the wind spirits. He flipped a switch on the control rod with his right hand. The craft began to emit a long high note as it went along, a sound that would draw wind spirits to them. He settled into a steady cruising speed and waited.

  A wind spirit appeared almost five minutes later, a rippling misty form that looked much like the wispy clouds, its sentient nature given away by deliberate movements and vivid blue eyes that watched them while it darted around the craft, sizing them up.

  Deynas began to turn the craft, working to get into position without alarming the spirit. It rarely worked that way, however, and this time was no exception. The wind spirit sped away and Deynas punched the throttle, giving chase. The spirit led them down and around at such a speed that the bigger flyer was hard pressed to keep up. Then the spirit stopped and turned, charging at them.

  Despite his surprise, Deynas reacted in an instant, dropping the left wing and going into a big barrel roll that swept them out and around the spirit. The spirit twisted in the air and charged them again. He gunned the throttle. This time, the spirit caught the tip of the wing and rocked them hard enough that the engine stuttered and his passengers both cried out. He kept the craft moving away from the hostile spirit, twisting to glance over his shoulder. The spirit hovered a ways behind them, big blue eyes watching them flee. He might have tried to catch it, if not for his passengers. As it was, he would need to report the incident to Master Kochan. That kind of aggression wasn’t normal in a wind spirit.

  A short distance ahead, he spotted another wind spirit. Pushing aside his rattled nerves, he focused on this new quarry and gave chase. They raced through the sky, diving, spiraling, rolling and rising like birds in a mating dance. This was how it usually worked. The moment he got a clean shot, he pressed the button to release the spirit net. It sparkled silver in the sunlight as it jetted out and wrapped around the spirit, giving its inconstant shape a more solid border for an instant before the net disintegrated, falling away in a rain of silver dust. The wind spirit waited for them where the net had caught it. The game was won.

  Deynas pulled up the craft next to it.

  The great blue eyes bl
inked slowly at him. Its voice, when it spoke, was like a whisper on a breeze, sometimes dropping almost below his ability to hear it. “You chase well, Deynas-ra.”

  No matter how many times he dealt with the wind spirits, it unnerved him that they always knew his name, though this one erred by including the honorific. Deynas inclined his head. “Thank you, Wind Lord, but I am not true Endless.”

  “Not in this moment, perhaps.” The spirit blinked twice, its form rippling in the air. “What favor do you seek?”

  Deynas drew the vial out of the pocket. “A message.”

  “I will honor our covenant and deliver this message.”

  “Thank you, Wind Lord.”

  Deynas dumped the contents of the vial, the message dust, out on his palm. The wind spirit swirled around him, drawing the dust into itself, then it sped away. Deynas tucked the empty vial back into the pocket and twisted to look back at his passengers.

  “Mission accomplished. You want to drive back, Misa?”

  “I do.” Misa had her harness detached before she finished answering and started to move quickly over the flyer’s deck.

  Deynas opened his mouth to tell her to clip on her safety line, but she was already almost to him, her stance low and well balanced. Later, he could reprimand her. For now, he needed to focus on getting her in place and buckled in. He reached a hand back to her. Her fingertips touched his, then the craft lurched, tipping steeply to one side. Time stopped for an instant as he stared into Misa’s wide eyes, then she was toppling, falling out of his reach over the side of the flyer.

  “Misa!”

  Ren’s cry tore through him, full of an anguish that Deynas knew too well. It haunted his nights when he dreamed of Argus. He turned and grabbed the controls, catching a glimpse of the wind spirit that had struck the flyer. The same one they’d had trouble with earlier. It had followed them. He pushed the levers and gunned the throttle, diving hard and spinning to get a visual on Misa. He spotted her fast, slender legs and arms spread wide to slow her descent. Every tribe member learned how to fall before they were allowed to go up on a flyer. She’d learned that lesson well.