Pursuit of Shadows (The Keeper Chronicles Book 2)

by JA Andrews

  “You saw the trial.”

  “But…what if he was telling the truth?”

  Sora turned to him, her face unreadable. “Killien didn’t believe him, and Killien is the only one that matters. Did you think the Morrow Clan tamer than others?”

  The question hung in the air.

  Yes, he did. When had that started? Will closed his eyes, shutting out the endless view of the Roven walking next to him, spinning his ring as his thoughts swirled. It had changed somewhere among the books and the conversation and the meals. Somewhere in the midst of discussions with Killien, the Roven had lost their fierceness in his mind.

  “You come here from…” Sora paused. “Wherever you come from and think the Roven are like you. You don’t know what it is like to live as one. You didn’t grow up with the fear of raids and battles and constant war. Don’t think that because a few Roven speak to you, that they are like you. No one here is like you. No one here wants to be.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  On the tenth day, from the top of a high rise, a jagged, white mountain top rose from the horizon in the north. Within hours a handful could be seen, pristinely snowy against the sky. Will strained to see the mountains as they moved up each rise, and watching until they were out of sight as they dropped into each low place, his eyes aching for something to look at besides the grass.

  The appearance of the Hoarfrost Range was the only sign that he wasn’t trapped in some eternal stagnation. If they were nearing the northern edge of the Sweep, they should be at the rifts within a couple of days, and he’d made no more progress with Ilsa than to exchange quick smiles with her once through a crowd.

  He’d always planned to leave the clan when they reached the rifts, but maybe he needed to convince Killien to let him stay. Maybe in the rhythm of normal life he could find more time to spend with her.

  Rass found him walking beside Shadow, still stretching out the aches from sleeping on the wagon. The morning was chilly enough that Will had put on a cloak, but Rass wore the same little greyish slave shift as always, her bare feet traipsing over the grass as though it was nothing.

  “Why doesn’t anyone take care of you?” The words came out harsher than he’d meant them to.

  Rass looked at him in surprise. “I take care of myself. And the grass helps, of course.”

  “Yes, the grass.” He ran his hand over his mouth to block all the things that wanted to come out. “Aren’t you cold?”

  “No,” she said carelessly. “Yesterday was so warm I can still feel it.”

  “I wish I could keep track of yesterday’s heat.” He handed her the piece of flatbread he’d been saving.

  “Can’t you?” She took it and squinted up at him. “Not even with your magic?”

  “What?” he asked too quickly.

  “That magic that you use. Like when I first met you.”

  His denial stuck in his throat. “What?” he managed again.

  She gave him a little exasperated look. “At the festival you did something so the Roven didn’t pay attention to you. The magic swirled around you like a sparkly mist.”

  Will’s heart felt like it was being squeezed by her tiny little hands. He opened up toward her, looking for some sense of suspicion, but she was just as cheery and curious as ever. He gathered some energy from the grass reflexively, without any clear plan of what to do with it.

  Her eyes widened and her gaze flickered at the air around him.

  “You’re doing it again,” she whispered.

  He stopped, staring down at her, his heart pounding against his ribs like it was the wrong size for his chest. He let the energy go, letting it seep out of him and back into the world unused.

  Rass glanced around with a disappointed sigh.

  “You saw that? With your eyes?”

  She looked at him, confused. “What other way is there to see?”

  There was magic that was visible. Techniques where the vitalle glowed as it moved. But he’d just been gathering energy. No one could see that. The Keepers talked about seeing vitalle, but usually it wasn’t actual sight. It was a sense—like locating something with sound. Another Keeper could have sensed that he was drawing more energy into himself, but he’d never heard of anyone who could actually see it.

  A dozen thoughts chased each other around Will’s mind.

  She could reveal him to the Morrow.

  Could she manipulate the energy?

  Had she told anyone?

  She could see it!

  His fear kept being shoved aside by excitement. Her light hair, her blue eyes—could she be from Queensland? She didn’t look like it. With her wide eyes and her angular face, she looked foreign, even for a foreigner. Could she still be trained as a Keeper, though? She was so young to have any powers.

  “Where are you from, Rass?”

  She gave a little sigh and looked at him exasperatedly. “The grass.”

  Will glanced around. The nearest Roven drove wagon and talked to each other, their voices muffled by the creaks of the wheels.

  “Do you see magic often?”

  Rass shrugged. “The Morrow put it on their ugly dirt buildings. And they wear it on things like rings. They put little bits of it onto their clothes, but that’s faded and weak. They don’t really have any strong magic.” She cocked her head and looked up at Will with her huge eyes the same bright blue as the sky. “I think you might, though.”

  With a smile she started humming, hopping from one foot to the next.

  Will considered her for a long moment, his fingers moving to his ring, spinning it slowly. “Have you told any Roven that I have magic?”

  “I don’t talk to the Roven.”

  “Not ever?”

  “They don’t like me.”

  They walked along for a few breaths in silence. “Thank you. For not telling them.”

  She looked at him curiously. “Where did you learn to do magic?”

  “At my home. There are other people there who can, and they taught me.”

  “Is there anyone there like me?

  Will shook his head. “Me and a bunch of older men. But we’ve been looking for someone like you for a very long time.”

  “Are you as good at magic as you are at telling stories?”

  “Not really.”

  “Why not?”

  Will thought back to Keeper Gerone’s constant prodding. “My teacher thought I had a motivation problem.”

  “Stories are a good thing to be good at,” she assured him.

  “Rass, can you do anything with magic?”

  She opened her mouth to answer. Before she could say anything her brow dove down into a frown. “The mean lady is coming.”

  Sora rode down the caravan toward them and Rass scampered off into the grass. Will watched the little slave girl go with a strange mixture of worry and fondness. She looked stronger. Her legs and arms had lost some of their gauntness. But as she left, it felt like she pulled something away with her, leaving him feeling more vulnerable.

  Will mounted Shadow as Sora came up to him.

  They’d fallen into a pattern of sorts. Usually not long after the caravan had started, while the duskiness of dawn still spread across the never-ending grass, she would come by and either bring him to Killien, or ride beside him. If she hadn’t arrived by the time the sun was completely above the Scales, Will knew she wouldn’t come. Some days she would answer questions about the Roven, but he’d given up asking her any personal questions days ago. Those were met with biting sarcasm.

  It was the days where every question was met with a silent scowl that he didn’t know what to do with. Because on those days she would ride beside him for hours barely speaking, showing no interest in him, but not leaving.

  He’d asked if she was on some sort of guard duty, sent by Killien to keep track of him, but she only responded with a scathing remark about not being Killien’s guard dog. On those days Will pulled out a book and read, letting her stew in silence and trying not to thin
k about her too much.

  But during the days she was gone Will found himself watching for her, and this morning he felt a surprising amount of pleasure as she rode up.

  “Good morning,” he offered, testing the waters.

  Her face was grave and she nodded absently to him. “Killien wants you.”

  Will motioned for her to lead the way. “Did you find anything interesting out ranging?”

  A flicker of something distasteful crossed her face, but she didn’t answer.

  “Are you still looking for signs of frost goblins?” The urgency of the search had faded from his mind. It had been days since he’d heard Killien mention it, and while the Roven still built fires around the edges of the caravan at night, most of them seemed to be out of habit, not fear.

  “No,” she answered dryly. “We thought we’d just stop looking and pretend we’d never heard reports of them.

  “I just…no one seems worried about them anymore.”

  “Anyone intelligent is.”

  Will looked out over the grasslands. “Have you found any?”

  Sora gave a single nod.

  “How many?”

  “Three.”

  Will stared at her. “Were you alone? Are you alri—?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she interrupted his fumbling questions.

  Will closed his mouth and looked around the Sweep, feeling suddenly exposed on the wide open grass. “Should I be worried?”

  Sora gave a short laugh. “We should all be worried.”

  She didn’t elaborate, and Will didn’t push. He watched Lilit’s wagon as they passed near it, and while he could see movement within, the interior was too shadowed to see if it was Ilsa.

  When Killien came into view, Will turned to Sora. “How come you stay with the Morrow?” He pitched his voice low so only she could hear.

  Sora started and looked at him as though she’d forgotten he was there. Her eyes flickered away from him and rested on the Torch, her face unreadable. “Killien pays me well.”

  Surprisingly, he couldn’t sense any sarcasm in her answer. “That’s very mercenary of you. But wouldn’t your own people benefit from your skills?”

  “My people have enough hunters.”

  “So, what?” The irritation from her terse answers rose to the surface. “You’re here because you’re not special enough among your own tribe?”

  Sora let out a harsh laugh and turned her horse away. “That was never the problem.”

  He watched her ride off over his shoulder wondering why he’d bothered to ask.

  Turning back toward Killien, he tried to push her out of his mind. The man had been growing more irritable lately. He’d stayed distantly polite to Will, spending a few minutes questioning him about a Baylonian duke Will had written about. But he’d been short with the rangers who reported to him and snapped at Lukas for riding too close. Sini and Rett had taken to riding a little farther back.

  Today, though, when he approached, the Torch was in an animated discussion with Lukas, both their faces bright as Killien clapped the slave on the back, and Lukas closed up a book. Even making eye contact with Will didn’t totally dampen Lukas’s spirits, and he fell away from the Torch, leaving room for Will to approach.

  Killien greeted Will with an enthusiasm that was almost overwhelming. “Will! I don’t feel like I’ve properly thanked you for all the writing you’ve done for me on this trip. Thank the black queen you showed up in Porreen when you did.”

  Will gave him a bow, his fist pressed to his chest. “It’s been my pleasure. I should thank you for the books you’ve shared.”

  Killien waved off his thanks. “No, you deserve a gift. Tell me, what payment do you want? A Book?” He motioned to Will’s hand. “Another gold ring?”

  Something glinted blue on one of Killien’s fingers—the ring they’d taken from the traitor sat between Killien’s other rings, and the light from the blue burning stone in it was visible even in the sunshine. He could see vitalle in several of his rings, actually. Maybe Killien’s actually held magic.

  Will shook his head and opened up to the Torch. A wide undercurrent of satisfaction and pleasure flowed into Will. Whatever Killien was happy about, it was strong.

  “There must be something you’d like from the Morrow.”

  Yes. Will kept his eyes away from Lilit’s wagon.

  “There is one thing.” Will paused. “Would you consider selling me one of your slaves?”

  Killien raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t take you for a slaveholder.”

  Will forced a smile. “We all have our secrets.”

  Killien let out a short laugh. “We do. But you haven’t done nearly enough writing for me to earn a slave.” He looked calculatingly at Will. “It would take three month’s wages for most Roven to buy a slave, and that only gets them a mediocre one.” He paused. “Although if you’re talking about that tiny girl you seem so fond of, we could come up with a less expensive agreement.”

  Killien knew about Rass?

  Will’s pulse quickened.

  It wasn’t freeing Ilsa like he needed to do, but freeing Rass was a good first step. “Her name is Rass.” He tried to keep the disgust out of his voice at the next question. “How much would she cost?”

  Killien rubbed his thumb across his lips, watching Will closely. “Do you read ancient runes? I have some I need translated, and that would be worth quite a bit to me.”

  You’ve got the wrong Keeper for that. “I’m familiar with some runes, but I’m not an expert.”

  Killien considered this answer. “Where did you learn them?”

  “When I was twelve, I moved to a place with a library." The first time he'd stepped into the library at the Keepers Stronghold, it had taken his breath away. Floor after floor of books. “The man who kept the books had some with ancient runes”—which Gerone had constantly and unsuccessfully tried to get Will interested in—“which he loved, but I was never terribly good at.”

  “How big was the library?”

  “To my eyes, it was enormous.” He glanced at Killien. “You won't like this, but the largest library I ever saw was the royal library in Queenstown.”

  Killien’s brow darkened. “How big is it?"

  “The main room is as big as the Square in Porreen.”

  The Torch’s eyebrows rose.

  “And there are a dozen smaller rooms off of it, all filled with books.”

  Killien was silent for a long moment. “That would be something to see.”

  “You should come there with me, we’ll take a trip into Queensland.” Will motioned to the notch in the Scales that was almost next to them. “It’s only two or three days past Kollman Pass.”

  The Torch laughed. “Even a library that big isn’t a strong enough draw.”

  “Is there a particular reason you hate Queensland more than other countries?” Will tried to keep his tone merely curious, while he focused on Killien’s emotions. “I’ve never totally understood the Roven’s animosity.”

  “Queensland drove us out of our homeland and forced us to live on the Sweep.”

  He chose his next words as carefully as possible. “That happened a very long time ago. When you talk about Queensland, the animosity feels…fresher.”

  A jab of irritation lanced across Killien’s satisfaction, and he studied Will for several heartbeats.

  “If that was too personal of a question,” Will said, “I apologize.”

  “It’s hardly a secret. You know that the warriors of the Morrow went with Mallon when he attacked Queensland?”

  “I heard a story about it my first night in Porreen. I remember there was a giant.”

  “Yervant tells the story every year because their company only lost one battle during the entire war. And they were winning that one too, until a Keeper showed up.”

  “How many men did the Morrow lose?”

  “Many.” A sharp grief cut into Killien’s emotions. “Among them my uncle, Andro, who had be
en my closest advisor, and my cousin Adaom, who was like a brother to me.” Killien turned a hard gaze toward the Scales. “They were the only family I had left. And a Keeper burned them alive.”

  Killien’s grief and vengeance flowed through Will’s chest and he almost shoved them out. But the emotions were so familiar, he let them stay, mirroring his own losses, resonating in the deepest part of himself.

  “Adaom was Lilit’s older brother. She idolized him. It’s why she hates you so much.” Killien looked slightly apologetic. “And why she always will. You look too much like you’re from Queensland for her to see anything else.”

  They rode in silence until Will felt Killien’s emotions settle. That at least explained Lilit’s animosity. And why a peace offering of a story wouldn’t be nearly enough. Maybe nothing would be enough. How would he ever get Ilsa away from her?

  Needing something else to think about, Will asked. “Why did Mallon attack? To Queensland it seemed unprovoked. Did they do something I’m unaware of?”

  Killien looked at him in surprise. “Because it was personal.” At Will’s blank look, he added, “Mallon was from Queensland.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Will’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

  Killien’s gaze turned piercing and he nodded slowly. “Mallon came to the Sweep as a child, ten years before my father was Torch. His father had debts, and to pay them, the duke sold his children to the Sweep.”

  Will stared at him, stunned. “Sold? They don’t do that in Queensland. It’s unlawful to sell slaves.”

  Killien let out a laugh. “And so you think it doesn’t happen? Mallon was sold to the Morrow, in fact, when my grandfather was Torch. He was with us for two years and already training to be a stonesteep. Already promising to be stronger than any we’d seen.” His face sobered. “Before Kachig the Bloodless took him from us.”

  Mallon was from Queensland?

  “You thought Mallon was Roven?” Killien asked

  Will nodded. “Everyone does.”