Synopsis
The Most Ordinary of Boys . . .
The Most Extraordinary of Books . . .
When the two collide, a destiny is set into motion which cannot be undone. Without warning, a secretive cult emerges ready to kill, and a horrifying Beast appears in the dead of night—craving to devour the Keeper of the Book. Suddenly, Cody Clemenson is forced to flee with his best friend Jade. Their journey will lead them to mystical locations and thrust them into uncharted lands, where an ancient feud between two long-lost cities is teetering on the brink of war. Will Cody rise to the occasion and become the hero he’s always dreamt of being? Or will he succumb to the power of the evil empire? The fate of the world now hinges on him—and the cryptic words written in a simple, leather book...
A Power Long Maintained—Now Faded,
A Secret Long Kept—Soon Unveiled,
A City Long Lost—Ready to Be Found.
Dedication
To my beautiful wife, Sarah – You are my unwavering constant. The greatest depths of my creative imagination and fantasy pale in comparison to the joy of spending my reality with you.
Table of Contents
Title
Synopsis
Dedication
Prologue
PART ONE – THE BOOK
An Odd Discovery
A Midnight Visitor
Opening the Door
The Man with the Knife
A Scarlet Letter
The Unseen
The Intruder
Wesley’s Riddle
The Ruby Pocket Watch
The Beast
On the Run
A Calm in the Storm
Sir Dunstan
Followed
A Mystery Solved
The Dwarf
Escape
The Hunted and the Hunter
The Diner Lady
A Brewing Storm
The Break-In
Future War, Iron Décor
Down the Rabbit Hole
PART TWO – THE CITY
Breached
Captured
Beneath the Dirt
The Lost City
The Rumblings of War
Interrogated
A Tale of Two Cities
The Area
A Secret Rendezvous
Reunion
The Perpetual No-Show
Murder in the Air
The Low Priest
A Strange Scent
A Treasonous Accusation
The Nature of a Beast
Soul Snatcher
The Trial
Tiana
Terminated
Sentenced
The Inauguration of Death
The Lie
A Growing Threat
A Record-Setting Sunset
The Prince’s Chambers
Yanci’s Pub
A Perfect Day for a Hanging
PART THREE – AND SO IT BEGINS
The Truth
Preparations
The Swan and the Duck
Randilin Stormberger’s Secrets
A Fateful Mourning
Ambush!
The Silent Sanctuary
The Betrayal
A Prisoner of War
An Unexpected Ally
Golden
Acknowledgments
Copyright
Coming Soon
Prologue
He was dead.
The precise moment of the soul’s mystical voyage from this world? Unknown; forever a secret for the damp stone walls to hoard and cherish. However, that which was irrefutable was the absolute certainty that he was dead— completely dead.
Crackling flames, liberated from the solitary confinement of their lamps, danced a wild, savage dance, reflecting off the harsh surface of the walls; rouges in a room infiltrated with midnight blackness. The steady hum of nighttime’s wonders seeped through the open window, providing the crazed inferno their tribal rhythm. Slyly escorting the midnight drone was a scent—a most peculiar scent. A prodigal aroma having returned from an exceedingly lengthy absence only to find itself a complete stranger in its own home; it was the distinctive scent of change.
In the center of the room, blind to nature’s passionate carnival all around him, lay the corpse. Two lifeless eyes fixated heavenward, thin windows into an empty dwelling. The thick skin of the man’s face was coarsely pale, as though warmth, finally accepting the inevitable, had swiftly fled its longtime dwelling place. The most telling feature of the empty corpse, however, was the mouth; gaping wide open. Not open as it had been on so many occasions to release waves of laughter, nor as it had been to engage in three million delightful conversations: open as though agonizingly torn beyond capacity by a soul departing its earthly vase. In all, he had the look of a man who had carelessly left Death off the invite list to his banquet, only to, with great surprise, discover that it would be the celebrated guest of honor.
Hushed whispers cut sharply through the thick tranquility, a regiment of life in the lifeless room. Two hooded figures, both of short stature, huddled in the adjacent corner, bystanders to the serene scene. Their whispers were exchanged with frantic urgency.
“You are absolutely positive he’s dead? No trickery?” The voice of a woman shot out to the figure on her right. She leaned forward for another glance, but kept her distance; fearful that what she witnessed might actually be reality. Her voice was husky, crafted by the erosion of sorrow. The return whisper came volleying back in the form of a male’s voice, calm but with the subtle hint of shakiness that exposed its true composure,
“As sure as this night is dark as sin. I’ve checked every vital sign. Nothing points to foul play. I can’t explain it. He’s simply . . . gone.” The last word was uttered with the conviction of a man unable to accept an obvious truth.
“What does this mean? How could this happen? How are we going to explain this? Everything is going to change. Everything is going to crumble.”
“No, we keep it secret. No one can discover what happened tonight. Nobody. We trust in only ourselves. Its revelation would be utterly disastrous. Do I have your word?”
Silence.
The women’s heavy eyes peered urgently toward the deceased body; she was praying for a final miracle to pinch her and awaken her from her nightmare. At last, her shoulders sank as she released the last traces of denial, “Yes, brother, you have my word. But this won’t stay hidden forever . . .” Her voice trailed off. For a moment their minds were unified in a singular train of thought—a train quickly running rampant off the tracks. They knew her final statement held prophetic truth. They both understood the repercussions of the dark, veiled funeral service: A power long maintained—now faded. A secret long kept—soon unveiled. A city long lost—ready to be found.
PART ONE – THE BOOK
An Odd Discovery
There was absolutely nothing ordinary about Cody Clemenson. He was in no shape or form bound by the mundane, restrictive chains of normality imposed upon his peers. Granted, at 5' 4" in height, he was bashfully flirting with the average stature for fifteen-year-olds. And it probably shouldn’t be overlooked that his report card had the steady tendency to follow suit with his alliterated name. Actually, he had never really excelled in any particular area or at any particular thing. In fact, when all the variables were considered, it seems as though Cody Clemenson was exceedingly ordinary after all.
Cody pondered this utterly dismal realization as he sat restlessly in his 9th grade science classroom. Lounging in his back-row desk in Slacker Row, he twirled his pencil clumsily between his index finger and thumb. His shaggy brown hair hung in front of his sky-blue eyes like wrinkled curtains as he st
ared mindlessly toward the amateur doodles scratched into his desk. The doodles were all akin: Cody’s shirt bursting open as muscles rippled underneath. In several, the addition of a cape and swooning girls had been added.
The irritating hum of Ms. Starky’s, (or Ms. Shark-y as she was spitefully referred to by her class), scratchy voice droned on and on as she shared a less-than-tantalizing lecture on the Scientific Method. It wasn’t that Cody lacked interest in the lesson; it was simply that he could think, off hand, of approximately 56,433 and a half other places he would rather be at that precise moment. And, one place in particular.
“Pssst!” The whisper exploded like dynamite in the comatose room, the shrapnel tearing Cody from his dream world and back into reality. Finding his bearings he pivoted to see who had so rudely intruded upon his daydream. It was Sean Schneil. Cody groaned.
Sean was the embodiment of a try-hard, striving with painstaking effort to fit in everywhere, effectively fitting nowhere. Greasy, fire-red hair and a freckle-infested face, Sean cherished nothing more than to be involved in the action. From under his desk his gangly, splotchy arm produced a folded note, “It’s from you-know-who . . . ,” he whispered loudly, oblivious to his volume. The unnaturally, and slightly freakish, large smile on his face hinted that he was clearly pleased to be included in the moment of mischief. Cody quickly unfolded his letter:
CODY
Still up for Wesley’s after class?
JADE
Cody grinned. Glancing up from his desk, he gazed at a head of long, charcoal-black hair in the front row. Jade—his best friend. In truth, her birth name was Mari Shimmers. That name, however, had been relegated by her schoolmates to little more than obscure trivia as her prominent fiery green eyes had quickly earned her the nickname, Jade.
Cody recalled the moment he met Jade at the beginning of fourth grade. Her divorced parents had decided it was in her best interest to stay with her mom in America rather than her military father in Europe and transferred her into Cody’s class mid-year. Although Jade’s dress was extremely plain when compared to her image-conscious peers, and she rarely made use of makeup, her face radiated a compelling attractiveness with two large dimples, light freckles, and, of course, her trademark green eyes, which captured the look of the rising sun reflecting off the damp forest leaves the morning after a violent rainstorm.
Despite joining Cody’s grade, Jade was a full year older than her classmates, having been put back a year due to her military father and her constant need to transfer. This did not prove to be a hindrance, however, as she excelled academically and was quick to make friends. In many ways, she was everything Cody was not. Her bold outgoing nature stood out next to his stark, introverted demeanor. No doubt, the influence of military life shined through as well as she had developed a precise, analytical mind. Cody, on the other hand, seemed to always be lost in his private thoughts as he explored fantastic worlds and journeyed to magical realms. However, the two had struck up an immediate and surprising friendship. Some suggested it was because Cody had also dealt with the painful experience of his father walking out on his mother, and indeed that had undoubtedly played a supporting role. More probable, as Jade would quickly testify, was that she wrote all of Cody’s essays.
As if sensing Cody’s stare, Jade swung her head around and smiled, her piercing eyes peering at Cody. Cody smiled back, confirmation that the afternoon’s excursion to Wesley’s was a go. Wesley’s, or rather Wesley’s Amazing Used and Rare Antique Book Store, was the duo’s favorite afterschool hangout. Apart from broken families, the pair was also bound together by another chain: a mutual obsession of classic books.
From some vague distance, Cody heard the words, “Excuse me, Mr. Clemenson.” He flushed. Glancing up, he flipped his hair from in front of his eyes. The moment he did so he immediately wished he could undo the deed. Standing directly in front of him was Ms. Starky, who peered at him disdainfully. Cody gulped.
“Mr. Clemenson, would the student’s foot size in this experiment represent the controlled, or independent variable?” Cody didn’t even begin to have a clue as to what the answer was . . . or what in the world a variable was. He cast a desperate look toward Jade, but knew she couldn’t save his bacon this time. There would be no fooling Starky this time.
“Um,” he began slowly, searching for rescue, “Well, Ms. Sharky . . . I mean . . . Starky. . . . argh . . .” Sean let out an uncontrolled hiccupy laugh that sounded like a seagull choking on Cheetos. Unfortunately, Starky did not find humor in the situation. Squinting together her eyebrow-less eyes, she muttered, “Well, Mr. Clemenson, it looks like you will have the privilege of staying after class with me today . . . again.” Cody winced, and cast a sheepish look over to Jade. The Wesley’s excursion was indefinitely postponed.
“It’s about time!” Jade cried as Cody came straggling out of the school thirty minutes later. Cody tossed up his arms. “You think you had it bad? At least you got to wait outside, not with JAWS!” Jade let out a gentle smirk and continued in a motherly tone, “Well, for one, her name is Ms. Starky, not Jaws. No need to be rude. Secondly, the foot size in her question was the independent variable. And thirdly, you might be happy to know that I graciously spent my time waiting for you by finishing your algebra homework. Congratulations, you should have an A.” Cody flashed a smile of gratitude, reminding himself again why their friendship worked with such perfect harmony. With this, the two began their delayed trek to Wesley’s.
Coming to a crosswalk Jade pressed the walk button. “So, aren’t you going to tell me what Ms. Starky had you do for all that time in there?” she persisted. “I’m assuming it wasn’t tea and a game of checkers?” Cody shrugged, “Oh, you know, just the usual. Had to write a few hundred lines and listen to the ‘you’re a disappointment to your ancestors’ speech again.” These appointments with Starky had become somewhat of a regular occurrence; often scheduled into his agenda a week or two beforehand.
“So, what did you have to write this time? I-will-not-bean-embarrassment-to-fifteen-year-old-boys again?” Jade prodded with a mocking grin. Crossing the street, Cody thought for a second, “Um . . . I can’t remember. Something like that. They all start blurring together, ya know?” Jade hung her head. After years of friendship she was still amazed sometimes by Cody’s apparent selective memory. He could instantly rattle off the birthdates and a variety of random facts about authors who had died centuries ago, but could not recall the ten words he had just spent halfan-hour repeating. Silly boy!
The friends turned into a long alley between buildings, a shortcut to their destination. Although the town of Havenwood, Utah was small, the two had not yet reached the age where shortcuts and secret passageways had lost their intrigue. The pair had spent hours scurrying through the streets in one adventure or other; over the years they had run from Indians as well as from invading cut-throat pirates looking for plunder. Their passageways now carefully held these memories the way a glass bottle holds a tiny boat. Over time you may forget how the boat got into the bottle, but you never stop appreciating the nostalgia.
On this late afternoon, however, a foreign smell invaded their sanctuary of familiarity. Cody’s nose sensed it the minute it arrived, much the same way a dedicated librarian itches when a book is inversely replaced. He instantly knew they were not alone in the alleyway. Turning into view appeared a large man, cloaked in a long, black coat. The tall figure walked with the sway of one well acquainted with authority, and with the haste that seemed to proclaim that his business was his own. Jade forcefully yanked Cody against the wall as the figure briskly passed by, the tail of his coat bushing against Cody’s sleeve in the narrow passageway. A sharp chill shot down Cody’s spine.
Although the figure’s face was downcast, Cody caught a glimpse. It was a face he had never seen before. As the man reached the end of the lane he turned and disappeared as quickly as he had arrived. And, just like that, all returned to normal. The smell of alien cologne had stained the air the way a
scar remains long after the cut has healed.
“Who do you think that was?” Cody spouted out the moment the stranger had vanished. “He gave me the creeps!”
“Just an ordinary visitor. It’s none of our business; probably a book collector come to visit Wesley’s. Speaking of which . . .” Coming to the end of the alley, their destination came into view. Wesley’s Amazing Used and Rare Antique Book Store.
Honest to its name, the bookstore dazzled the eyes of even those accustomed to its splendor. The building itself was not an average bookshop but a converted mansion. The oldest building in town and the last landmark of the city’s past now long forgotten. Around the front of the building was a magnificent porch carved out of gray stone, tightly hugging the house as its staunch confidant. The faded, wind-brushed bricks that fashioned the walls appeared feeble, as though a stiff breeze might tip the scales in favor of Father Gravity; yet faithfully they stood. Covering these walls were leafy vines that had slowly slithered up over generations and now clung to the walls like leeches. In the front, two black, stone lions stood imposingly as guardians on either side of the pathway leading to the house; their marble eyes staring at every visitor as though judging his worth.
Two breathtaking, sizable bay windows, covered by thick, black drapes, shielded the store in a blanket of mystery. The town’s children unanimously concluded that the mansion was haunted.
However, for the store’s most frequent visitors, these ghost-legends took no hold. Cody pranced up the chipped front steps and—SMACK! “Ouch!” cried Cody grabbing his now throbbing forehead. Jade shrugged once again; having witnessed another prime example of Cody’s poor memory. What offered the crushing blow was the ever-familiar wooden sign reading: Wesley’s: Your Home for Rare Books Since 1683. The store had just relocated to their town roughly four years ago when Wesley had arrived and quietly purchased the long-abandoned residence.
Legend of the Book Keeper Page 1
