Keeper of the Books (Keeper of the Books, Book 1)

by Jason D. Morrow

  “So, I guess it’s all right to carry this with me?” he asked, holding up his pistol.

  “It’s encouraged,” Clive said. “You don’t want to be caught in Vandikhan without a weapon of some sort.”

  Joe followed a limping Clive toward the saloon and carefully placed his pistol in its holster. He was a quick draw and now he was a killer. Sure it had been done in defense, but a man was dead nonetheless. Problem was, Joe was okay with what he had done and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. There was little remorse. There was no regret. What disturbed him the most was that he felt relief, perhaps even happiness in knowing that he had shot the Warlord through the forehead. It gave him a sense of credibility that he always felt was lacking when working with his brother. Nate had killed many times. He had never talked about it much, and as far as Joe knew he had never killed somebody in cold blood. But would Nate really have told him if he had? The two of them had been raised a certain way, and with the parents they had, Joe was sure Nate would never tell him. Maybe he would confide in Joe if he were drunk which happened often enough.

  The saloon was dark and full of smoke. There were plenty of people inside too engaged in conversation, card games, or flirting with saloon girls to pay any attention to the newcomers.

  “A little early in the day for whiskey, ain’t it?” Joe said under his breath.

  Clive shook his head and smiled. “For some, it’s just getting late.”

  He led Joe to the other side of the saloon to a booth. Clive unstrapped his saber from his back and set it against the seat and then sat down. Joe sat across from him, unsure of himself as he took in the whole scene. He had been in plenty of saloons over the past couple of years, but this one felt strange to say the least. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but the people were different than the ones he had grown accustomed to in Texas. Here in Vandikhan, they almost seemed rougher.

  “Can I get y'all somethin’ to drink?” The voice came from a woman standing uncomfortably close to Joe. She had curly red hair that fell down her back and a round, smiling face. She set a soft hand on Joe’s shoulder.

  “Nothing for me,” Joe said, shifting in his seat.

  “Bring a bottle of whiskey,” Clive said. “Two glasses. My friend here might want some too.”

  Joe gave him a curious look as the saloon girl walked away winking at Joe as she went. Clive didn’t look Joe in the eyes for the longest time, but Joe was patient. Clive had something to tell him, but it seemed he couldn’t bring himself to do it without a drink. In less than a minute the saloon girl was back with a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses. She set the bottle in the middle of the table and a glass in front of Joe and Clive. Clive slipped her a large coin and she took it quickly.

  “Ya’ll just holler if you need anything,” she said with a big smile. “I’ll be around.”

  “Thank you,” Clive said absently as he poured whiskey into both glasses.

  “I said I didn’t want anything,” Joe said.

  “You might when I’m done saying what I have to say,” Clive answered. He threw back his first drink and immediately poured more into his shot glass. Joe left his sitting. After taking his second shot, Clive set the glass down on the table and closed his eyes. Joe could see his fingers twitch just a little. No doubt the bullet wounds in the man were excruciating. They weren’t life-threatening by any means, but he had still been shot twice, yet here he was, visiting a saloon rather than a doctor. When Clive finally looked up, he caught Joe staring at him and let out a nervous laugh. “Battle gives me the shakes,” he said. “A drink takes care of it.”

  “For some reason I don’t think it’s the battle that’s giving you the shakes,” Joe said. “Just say what you’ve got to say.”

  Clive swallowed and look around him to see if anyone was within earshot. When he was satisfied, he took a deep breath and began. “I know who you are,” he said. “You’re Joseph Cole. From Texas. You’re here looking for your brother.”

  Joe stared back at Clive with intensity. He felt like he wanted to run, but he didn’t know why. Was this just another bounty hunter from his side of the world? Did Clive plan to collect?

  He felt his hand slowly slide off the table and to the butt of his gun, though it seemed Clive didn’t take notice. If the man tried anything, Joe could shoot him through the head and be out of the saloon before anyone knew what happened. But where would he go?

  “How do you know that? Have you seen him? Have you seen Nate?”

  Clive shook his head. “I know this because you told me.”

  “No I didn’t.”

  “Well, you did. Only you won’t tell me for another six years.”

  “What are you talking about?” Had the whiskey already taken effect? Was Clive already drunk?

  “First, I’ve got some questions for you,” Clive said. “Like, what kind of trouble are you in?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean from your other world. Texas.”

  Joe shook his head. “Nothing really. Just a little bit of law trouble.”

  “Stop playing stupid,” Clive snapped. “Look at where you’re sittin’. You think I care if you’re an outlaw? I live among thieves and murderers. What kind of trouble are you in?”

  “I’m a thief,” Joe said. “I’ve robbed a few banks. Stagecoaches. Big money stuff. That’s how I came to be here.”

  “Explain,” Clive said, pouring another glass and taking a gulp.

  “My brother and I were hired to rob a safety deposit box. Only we didn’t know what was in it. We didn’t really care, you see. I just wanted the money. The man was paying enough for us to retire from thieving.”

  “And why would you want to do that?”

  “Because it was getting too big. Our bounties, I mean. My brother is worth a lot more than me, but I’m worth a pretty penny.” Joe watched Clive closely. “It don’t make you nervous sitting in front of a wanted man?”

  “Half of the men in this room are worth enough for any one of us to retire,” Clive said. “Only problem is, there’s no one to take them in. Look at me. I’m worth at least a thousand coins.”

  “Dollars?”

  Clive shrugged. “Coins. I don’t know your currency, but everything here is coins, coins, coins. Everyone needs more coins. Well, I’m worth a thousand of them. That could buy you a nice farm in the country, or a decent house in Tel Haven.” He smiled now as if he was proud of the fact that someone wanted him enough to pay the equivalent of a farm to get him. “Anyway…continue, please.”

  “Well, I led the group to get to the safety deposit box,” Joe said. “What I didn’t expect to find was a book. Two of my men opened the book and disappeared like they weren’t even there. I snatched up the book, and me and my brother took off after our employer. We brought it to him and demanded an explanation, but a bounty hunter and a sheriff caught up with us.”

  “Who was your employer?”

  “A man named Tyler Montgomery. Heard of him?”

  Clive shook his head.

  “Well, he’s here. Because before opening the book and disappearing, he convinced me and my brother to do the same thing. I opened the book first and was pulled into it. Next thing I know I wake up in the middle of a battlefield. I heard you and your men coming so that’s when I decided to play dead.”

  “You didn’t do a very good job,” Clive said.

  “Yeah, I know. Truth is, I don’t even know if Nate is in Galamore or not. I never actually saw him open the book. I went in before he did. For all I know, the bounty hunter got him and he’s dead now.”

  Clive shook his head. “Nate’s alive.”

  Joe’s eyes went wide. “You’ve seen him?”

  “Well, no, but that’s what you told me,” Clive said.

  “What is all this about me telling you something I never told you?” He could feel his cheeks getting red.

  “Keep your voice down,” Clive said looking from side to side. He poured another glass. This time he s
ipped. “You’ve never heard of The Ancient Books, have you?”

  Joe shook his head.

  “Books in Galamore can be phenomenal things. They open you up to worlds that you have never seen before. Many books work in the same way, though there are plenty that aren’t magical, too.” He reached a hand into his pocket and pulled out a small book. “This is my journal. If you opened this up, you’d be able to witness everything that I’ve written about. First hand. Now, in this particular type of book, you can’t change anything. There is nothing to change. But it seems that the book you came across in the bank has a story that is yet to be finished.”

  “None of this makes sense to me,” Joe said.

  “Well, none of that matters right now,” Clive said, waving him off. “What matters is that The Ancient Books exist. They are very rare, and people sometimes spend their entire lives searching for them. One of them in particular is very dangerous. It’s called The Book of Time. Apparently, you come across it six years from now. And that’s why you were able to visit me before I even met you. Before you even made it to the world of Galamore.”

  Joe took a drink then refilled the glass.

  “This book you came across in Texas led you here,” Clive said, “only you must have opened it to a different spot than your brother.”

  “What do you mean?” Joe asked.

  “The current year is 898 in the Age of Man. However, your brother doesn’t get here until 903 in the Age of Man.”

  “Did he hold on to the book that long?”

  “You’re not listening,” Clive said. “When you opened the book, what did you read?”

  “The text said something about fire covering a battlefield and smoke turning the sky gray.” He shrugged. “I didn’t know what it meant.”

  “You were reading about the skirmish we Renegades won against the Crimson Army,” Clive said. “Apparently your brother skipped a few pages.”

  “And you’re saying I told you all of this?”

  “Two days ago,” Clive said. “I thought the other version of you was crazy when he told me, but he was convincing. I tried to pass him off as a lunatic when it was all over, but then I found you on the battlefield. I knew you weren’t lying.”

  “This is nuts,” Joe said. “So my brother ain’t even here yet?”

  Clive shook his head. “Not according to you.”

  “And you don’t know Tyler Montgomery, so it’s possible he ain’t here either.”

  “Or I’ve just never heard of him,” Clive said. “Galamore is a very big place.”

  “What about Ralph Smith or Stewart Douglas? You heard of them?”

  “No, never.”

  “I’m here all alone,” Joe said. “It feels strange.”

  He stared down at the table, not really knowing what to think. There was no reason not to believe Clive. Really, if there was a possibility to fall into a book at all, why wouldn’t it be possible to fall into a book about time and be two places at once?

  “What are you planning? What do you want to do?”

  “I want to find my brother and go back home,” Joe answered.

  Clive sat straighter and looked at Joe with fierce, but kind eyes. He wore a look of concern that troubled Joe yet gave him a sense of security at the same time. “You need to resign yourself to the fact that you are going to be in Galamore for at least six more years—that much I know.”

  “How do I know you’re going to help me get back home?”

  “I can’t make any promises like that,” he said. “All I can do is offer you my friendship.”

  “How do I know that I can trust you?” Joe asked.

  “Simple,” Clive said with a grin. “Instead of visiting yourself from the future, you visited me. If I was dangerous to you, wouldn’t you warn yourself that I am dangerous?”

  Joe was a man of logic even when logic seemed to have gone to hell. He had no argument for Clive. Besides, Clive was the only person Joe knew at the moment. He reached out in front of him and took the shot glass and held it in the air.

  “Here’s to six years, I guess.”

  The liquid burned all the way down.

  Nate

  Autumn, 903 A.O.M.

  The smell of sizzling bacon wafted through the small house in the woods, traveling to Nate’s nose and waking him from his slumber. He had fully expected the world of Galamore to be a dream; but he instantly knew it was real when he smelled his breakfast. He sighed with his eyes still closed, wishing he could figure out why he was here in the first place. As usual, his thoughts drifted to Joe. He hoped he was all right.

  He opened one of his eyes and the light through the open window in the main room made him squint. His belly rumbled because of the smell in the room, and he hoped the old man had made some food for him.

  Nate had slept on a mat in the middle of the floor next to the fireplace. It had been a lot better than having to sleep in the barn as he suspected he might have had to do. But Alban had been gracious to him on account of saving Marum’s life. He sat up from the mat and brushed his fingers through his shaggy brown hair. He thought about the events that had transpired and how it was actually pretty lucky that he’d woken in a jail next to Marum. Alban had been more than courteous.

  Nate’s head started pounding. He had knocked back the rest of the whiskey from the bottle when the others had gone to bed. Now he was paying for it. He burped and his stomach felt like it was on fire. He rubbed his face where his few-days-old stubble was starting to turn into a full beard. He needed a good shave and a bath. He felt dirty. But he guessed there would be no time for that before they set out for their trip.

  He stood in the middle of the room to find Alban in front of his stove in the kitchen with Rachel sitting at the table eating breakfast. The old man whistled a soft tune to himself as he cracked an egg into a pan. Rachel looked up and noticed Nate standing, scratching the back of his head. When he walked to the table, Alban turned to see him and smiled widely.

  “Good morning,” he said cheerfully. “I hope you’re in the mood for a decent breakfast.”

  Rachel looked away from him as he sat.

  Alban walked over to Nate and set a plate in front of him with four strips of bacon, a large portion of scrambled eggs, and two large biscuits covered in molasses. Nate could feel his stomach groan for the food.

  “Go ahead,” Alban smiled. “Mine is still cooking.”

  Nate didn’t argue with him and dug in. At the other end of the room, Marum came through her bedroom door, her black hair pulled back, her clothes different than the rags she had been in before. She didn’t wear a dress like Rachel, rather long pants and tunic with a long coat. They were Alban’s clothes, but they actually fit the gray elf well.

  “So,” Nate said with a mouth full of food, “this Foreseer is the real deal, is she?”

  “Cara is good,” Alban said as he bit off a piece of bacon. “I’ve been to see her many times and she has always predicted my future accurately.”

  “Give me an example,” Nate said.

  Alban stared at him for a moment, almost as if he had not been expecting him to call him out on it. “Well,” he said, setting a hot plate in front of Marum. “There was this one time she told me that I would come across a traveler on the road and that he would need my help.” Alban leaned forward. “She told me that if I helped him, that he would become a close friend of mine, and would help me in turn. Sure enough, not two days later did I meet a traveler that needed a ride to Somerled. Even though it was a couple of days out of my way, I took him.”

  “So, did he help you then?”

  “Well, I would say so,” Alban said, with a smile. “The man introduced me to my future wife, Iris.”

  Nate looked up at Rachel and then at Alban. “This really happened?”

  “The man was a very interesting person,” Alban said. “We have had many adventures.”

  “Are you still friends with him?”

  Alban glanced at Rachel and then stared down
at his plate for a long moment, then shook his head. “No. I’m not.” He took a large bite of eggs. “Cara told me many things. Some of them good, some of them grim.”

  Nate decided no to press Alban further. After breakfast, Alban and Rachel cleaned the dishes while Nate and Marum sat and waited. Before he knew it, the four of them had set out for their journey. He hadn’t expected Rachel to go with them, but there she was riding in the back of the cart. Marum rode alongside the cart on Devlin’s horse they had stolen which had been fitted with new reins. Nate looked at Alban as he sat on top of the buggy next to him. The older man wore a tight smile across his wrinkled face as though this new day promised endless possibilities.

  “Who’s going to watch your place while you’re gone?” Nate asked.

  “Well,” Alban said, “we’re only going to be gone for a night or two. But I left a note for Bill, our hired help, to take care of things while I’m away.”

  Nate looked behind him in the cart. It was a clean, wooden back with a few supplies neatly stacked and roped to the side. Rachel sat comfortably with her knees to her chest. She still wore her green dress which was spotless. He didn’t imagine the father and daughter had a lot of possessions, nor the need for a wardrobe of endless colors. They seemed to be simple people. One of them, Alban, craved adventure and new possibilities, and the other, Rachel, liked things to stay the way they were—without surprises. With any luck, Nate would meet with Cara the Foreseer and get enough answers to leave the trio behind so he could get back home, get his money, and retire in peace.

  The day’s journey was not without event. More than once they had a scare when they saw a rider along the road. Each of them feared the worst when they thought it might be one of the president’s Rangers, but it never was. More than likely it was some peddler on his way to Tel Haven.