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

by Jason D. Morrow

  Nate wondered if Cara knew that he and fallen into the strange book in Texas. He wondered if she knew about Tyler Montgomery. He wondered if the Foreseer would think him mad to say so.

  “Even I don’t understand where you come from,” Cara continued. “The moment I saw you, flashes of The Ancient Books flickered through my mind, but I can’t make sense of it. I know you spoiled the execution of Marum. It came as no surprise to find you at my doorstep this morning.”

  “Does anything surprise a foreseer?” Nate asked.

  Cara grinned at this and looked at Alban. “He’s a smart one, Alban.

  “He has a sharp tongue,” the man answered.

  Nate ignored their comments. “I don’t care about any of this. I just need to figure out where my brother is and how I can get home.”

  “Well,” Cara said, “you should care about these things. Your actions, whether purposeful or not, will carry consequences. What those are is beyond my ability to know right now, but when you break the law, you find trouble. When you have Rangers looking for you, life is dangerous. You are quickly making yourself an enemy of the president. You might be wise to mend these wounds or burn these bridges before you find yourself on the wrong end of a rope.” She sighed deeply, looked at the floor, then back up at Nate. “You want me to tell you where to go from here.”

  “Yes,” Nate said. “Alban said you would be able to help me.”

  “Alban thinks more of me than I really am,” she said as she stood and grabbed the fire poker. She bent forward in front of the flaming logs and positioned them so she could add a third. “I don’t make it a habit of telling people what they should do versus what may happen.”

  “Then what can you tell me?” Nate asked a bit too anxiously. He sat straighter on the couch, his fingers clasped together.

  Cara placed the third log on the fire and walked to another wooden chair on the other side of the room. She lifted it and set it across from her wooden chair so the two of them sat parallel to the fire and the others on the couch. “Sit here,” Cara said. She sat in a chair and Nate did what she told him. He left the three on the couch and sat across from Cara, the chair creaking below him. “Hold out your hand.”

  Nate looked at Alban, but he only nodded to tell him it was all right. He didn’t need assurances from the man, but there was a part of him that felt nervous. He held out his left hand for Cara to grab.

  “The other one,” Cara said.

  Nate dropped his left hand and then held out his right. Cara grabbed his hand and stared into it for a long moment. The only sound was the crackling of the burning logs. The added heat from the extra log made Nate sweat above his eyebrows.

  “You know, I don’t have to look at a person’s hand to gather images from the future, but it sure helps,” she said. “Interesting.”

  “What?”

  “You truly are not from around here,” she said. “The fact that your past and much of your future is clouded, shows me that you are not even of this world.” She looked up from Nate’s palm to his eyes. “I cannot see into other worlds.” She looked back down to Nate’s palm. “You have a dark future here in Galamore, Sojourner. Dark and powerful. You may have encounters with the president in the future.” Cara’s eyebrows furrowed and she shook her head. “I see that The Book of Life is in your future. You will read the book, go into it.”

  Cara dropped Nate’s hand and stood suddenly.

  “What?” Nate asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “There is a man after you,” she said.

  “Yes, the Rangers,” Nate said.

  Cara shook her head. “A bounty hunter. Levi Thompson.”

  “He’s here?”

  “Here and on your trail,” she said.

  She reached for his hand again and gasped. Her eyebrows fell low and she let go of his hand again as she sat slowly in her chair and sighed deeply. “Oh, Sojourner…”

  “What?” Nate felt red in the face, anger crawling into him. He hated how slow, how elusive she was being.

  Cara looked at Alban and the others, then back at Nate. “As I said, I cannot see into the world from which you came, but I can see the things of this world. You hide a dark past. And you have lied to your travel companions.”

  Nate felt himself freeze. He didn’t want to look at the others, but he could feel their eyes on him.

  “Don’t,” Nate said.

  “They are my friends. I have to tell them.”

  Nate wanted to stop her, but what was he going to do now? They already had seeds of doubt planted in their minds.

  “You told them that you were a bounty hunter looking for a man named Tyler Montgomery?”

  Nate sat back in his chair. He stared at the fire as Cara spouted off the truth, not wanting to see the reactions of his new friends whose trust he had already betrayed.

  “Truth be told, you are the outlaw being chased by a man named Levi Thompson. He followed you into this world to find you and to kill you. Revenge is in his heart.”

  “I’ve made mistakes,” Nate said.

  “Many,” she answered.

  “You lied to us, Nate?” Alban asked from the other side of the room.

  Nate turned from the fire. “I’m a man on the run,” he said. “I’ve known you for barely a day. You expect me to tell you everything about my past?”

  “No, but I…”

  “Don’t let Alban fool you, Sojourner,” Cara said, “he has suspected your past already. No doubt from your continuous need for the whiskey you carry in your front pocket.”

  Nate reached for the flask.

  “Leave it,” Cara said. “It will do you good to have it with you.” She then looked at Alban, though her next words were directed at Nate. “Alban is more forgiving, though Rachel would as soon kill you in your sleep than try to help you.”

  “I’m not a killer,” Rachel said.

  “You won’t try to kill him,” Cara said. “But for now it is in your heart. But that will change.”

  Cara then looked at Marum. “This gray elf cares most about leaving this forest, beyond the reach of men. She neither trusts you nor distrusts you. She feels that you two share the same kind of story and she is grateful to you.” She turned her head back to Nate. “All of us have parts of our pasts that we would like to forget. Your lawlessness is recent, but you have a desire to move past it. To change.”

  “And how will I do with that?” Nate asked.

  Cara shook her head. “I cannot know everything. Your future is as dark as your past, and parts of it are just as mysterious. But one thing is for certain…you were meant to be here. The Author wants you here for some reason. That reason, I cannot know. But I continuously see The Ancient Books in my mind. They are most certainly in your future.”

  Nate shook his head. “What are The Ancient Books?”

  “There is a saying,” she said. “A rhyme made by those lost from memory. Though the writers may be gone forever, the poem has not been altered by time, nor the meaning deciphered through the ages.”

  “Okay,” Nate said.

  He watched as Cara stood from her seat and placed herself in front of the fire, her back to the group. Then, she opened her lips, and the words flowed through her in perfect cadence:

  “Many years gone since the days of old,

  When man marched with greed, searching for gold,

  When dragons breathed fire to scorch the earth,

  When ravagers formed, to fear from birth,

  When elves were divided, ever to fight,

  When dwarves dug deep to hide from the light,

  When gnomes forgot grace, their justice swift,

  When all the races forgot the gift,

  The gift of peace the Author had penned,

  It’s meaning to last until the end.

  Before the Author drew his last breath,

  He wrote the books of Life, Time, and Death.

  And hid them away for one to find,

  That one as he and of the same mind.


  But time slipped by and knowledge was lost.

  The books hidden, which came at a cost.

  Entrusted only to the Keeper,

  Relics abound should he dig deeper.

  Three keys in all to open the door,

  To finish this tale of Galamore.”

  Cara turned from the fire to look into the eyes of the others in the room. Alban was on his feet next. “Cara, you can’t be saying what I think you are saying.”

  “I am saying it, Alban. I believe this is the Keeper of the books.”

  Nate shook his head and was the next person to stand. “What are you two talking about?”

  “But that would mean…”

  “That this is the beginning of the end,” Cara finished for Alban.

  “I don’t understand,” Nate said. “I came here by accident. I don’t even know how it happened. All I want to know is how to get home.”

  Cara let out a laugh, almost a cackle when he said this. But then her face turned suddenly serious. “Home should be the last thing on your mind. You have a very long journey ahead of you before you can start thinking about home.”

  “What is this Keeper you’re talking about?” Nate said.

  “The Keeper of the books,” Cara said, “is the one who will find The Ancient Books.”

  “I need more than that,” Nate said.

  Cara brushed her fingers through her thick, black hair and breathed deeply. “There is a single book, locked away in a vault at the top of Dragon Scale Mountain,” she said. “It is called The Book of Galamore. It is a book that is continuously being written as we live. It is said that if one looked upon it, he would see words scrolling along as though it were being penned, yet there would be no one there writing in it. If one were to flip the pages of this book, the pages would never stop turning.”

  Nate’s face lit up at her words. “I’ve seen this book. That’s the book I fell into from where I was in Texas. Same as my brother and Tyler Montgomery.” Nate swallowed. “And Levi Thompson.”

  “Curious,” she said.

  “So, what about these other books?” Nate asked.

  “The others are to protect The Book of Galamore. The Author created them. Within each one there is a relic key. The person who gains all the relics can have access to the vault which holds The Book of Galamore. And anyone who can access it, can write the ending to our story—our world.” She paused for a long moment to let the words sink in. “So, you can see why so many have fought for control of The Ancient Books. Every people group in history has wanted access to The Book of Galamore.”

  “Why would someone want to end the world?” Nate asked, shaking his head.

  Alban offered an answer. “Because it’s more than an ending. The Keeper could gain access to the book and write: And the gnomes ruled all the races forever and ever. The end. Then our fates would be sealed. For eternity, people would be subject to the gnomes. Or elves, or dwarves, or whoever got to the book.”

  “But most,” Cara said, “do not even believe the books exist. Most think it is all part of legend and myth. That is why magic is slowly dying within these lands. That is why I think you’re here.”

  “So, I’m supposed to find the three books and get to The Book of Galamore?” Nate asked. He shook his head. “I don’t know about that.”

  “Nor do I,” Cara said. “Your future is foggy. But do not mistake the legendary poem for a prophecy. It is not a prophecy so much as a history lesson. I believe there is a Keeper and that he will write the ending to the book. But it has never been said what ending will be written. Good. Bad. Neutral. There is no way to know.”

  “I just want to find my brother and get out of here.”

  Cara smiled, but not with happiness in her eyes. There seemed to be a faint sadness underneath her expression. “I fear you won’t be able to leave unless you gain access to The Book of Galamore. An impossible task unless, of course, you are the Keeper.” She shook her head. “This is beyond me, Alban. This man needs to seek the Sentinels.”

  “You really think so?” Alban asked.

  “I do. They will be able to tell you what you need to do.” She scratched her scalp, her eyes darting back and forth. “This book you spoke of…from your world. I am no expert, but it seems to me that it is The Book of Galamore itself. A mirror copy, if you will. The same book that rests safely near the top of Dragon Scale Mountain. And if that’s true, then you can only get back through that book. So, if you want to go home, you must become the Keeper. That’s where the Sentinels can help you. They are wiser than I am.” She nodded at Alban and the others. “The three of you must take him.”

  “I need to get back to Gray Elf Country,” Marum said immediately.

  Rachel chimed in as well. “We have a homestead to take care of.”

  “The homestead will be there when your journey is complete,” Cara said. “Besides, the Rangers and this Levi will trace Nathaniel to your home. It is too dangerous to be there.” She looked at Marum. “As for you, Marum, I cannot tell you what to do, but it would be wise for you to accompany them to the Sentinel Keep rather than go straight back to your brother.”

  Cara sat back down in her chair and continued to stare into the fire. The others in the room were standing now, dumbfounded by the revelations.

  “Dark times are ahead of us all. The man chasing you has a tired and mournful heart,” she said to Nate. “I can’t know the conclusion of your fate, but I know you will meet him soon. He will chase you until one of you is dead.”

  “He’s coming here?” Nate asked.

  “I only see bits and pieces of the future,” Cara said. “I cannot know the outcomes or what everything means. But I know the bounty hunter comes for you and he brings death with him.” She looked up at Nate. “You must be on your guard.”

  Nate stood in silence, wishing that he could understand a word Cara was saying. He looked to Alban for some indication, some help in understanding, but the old man did not return his gaze. Instead, he only looked at the floor in front of him, mouth hanging open. Rachel no longer had a look of glaring hatred toward Nate as she too seemed scared. Marum looked into the fire, her purple irises dancing with the flames as she concentrated on Cara’s words.

  There was little more to discuss and the four of them soon found themselves saying goodbye and walking out of the shack toward the cart, their burdens heavy and their steps slow. As Nate walked through the yard, he saw the blue-eyed cat again, sitting on the same fencepost as before. The cat stared only at him as it licked its lips, giving him a look like he knew what had been discussed in their meeting.

  Nate wasn’t sure what to think about all this. The Ancient Books, the Keeper nonsense, and the vault he needed to unlock.

  He knew more than anything that he needed to find Joe. Then he needed to figure out where Tyler Montgomery fit into all this. The man knew about this book. He had wanted it for a reason. If Nate found him, he would find answers. But Cara had said to seek out someone else. The Sentinels.

  As he got into the cart, he glanced back at Cara who watched them from the doorway. She looked to her left and called for the cat to come inside, but the cat ignored her, still staring at Nate.

  Nate turned away from them. His hand went to his flask briefly, but he decided not to drink. Instead, he stared ahead as the cart pulled away from the shack and toward Nate’s dark future.

  Joe

  Autumn, 898 A.O.M.

  The decision for Joe to follow Clive all the way back to the Renegade camp was not an easy one. Joe had nearly considered parting ways with him despite the fact that Clive was the only friend he had. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the group nor their politics. It was completely one-sided with the Renegades. To join with them was to make an enemy of the reigning government in Galamore. Now, Joe didn’t know anything about the president nor how he treated his citizens, and taking the word of one man or one group of people while making an enemy of a powerful figure seemed an insane way to enter into a
new land. He expressed this concern to Clive when they were camped in front of a fire on a road deep within the Sunset Woods.

  “I can tell you our beliefs and why we fight against the government, but it’s still just my word,” Clive said. “You will never truly join our fight until you’ve felt the oppression of Jacob DalGaard—until you’ve seen his injustice.”

  “So, why did you kill the Warlord?” Joe asked. “Wasn’t he the leader against the president? And why did you kill the men traveling with us?”

  “As for the men,” Clive said, “they were the Warlord’s personal guards. If I was to go after our leader, they had to go too.” He sighed at the thought, then continued, poking at the fire with a stick. “The Warlord is meant to be the very antithesis of the current establishment. But he has not lived up to his name of late. Warlord was a label given to him many years ago. But to us it has become a title of high regard.”

  “But didn’t you just do battle with the Crimson Army?” Joe asked.

  Clive shook his head. “It feeds the bloodlust of the men, but nothing more. Small skirmishes are not what we are about.”

  “So, since you killed the Warlord does that make you the new Warlord?”

  Clive shook his head. “No. The Renegades must vote.”

  “How many are there?” Joe asked.

  “Seven hundred if you count those of us that are willing to fight,” Clive said. “Potentially there’s tens of thousands who would join with us if they could find their courage. It’s the Warlord’s job to rally the people against the president and his oppression.”

  “Is there that much discontent growing throughout Galamore?”

  “Yes,” Clive answered. He stared down at the fire, poking the coals and watching the end of the stick catch a flame. “Fredrick Merk was his name. The Warlord. He was the reason the Renegades started in the first place ten years ago. But the last few years have consisted of only small raids and very little recruitment. With the right man in charge, the Renegades could become a force to be reckoned with.”

  “And you hope that’s you?” Joe asked.