“Not on this,” he said. “Your talking of handing over the books to a man none of us know.”
“One book,” Gwen said. “We only know where The Book of Life is kept. The others, he would have to find on his own.”
“What you want us to do,” Hoccar said as he tugged at his beard and looked toward the ceiling, “is to allow him access to The Book of Life and see if he comes out alive?”
“Then you will know,” Gwen said. “Since no man has survived The Ancient Books, his survival would prove that I’m right.”
“And if you are right,” Kellen said, “then we as Sentinels, those who are meant to keep this world together, are the ones who hold the hand of the man who will destroy it.”
“He won’t destroy it,” Gwen said.
Laegren spoke next. “None of us can know that. Not even you.”
“He’s right,” Kellen said. “I don’t care if this man is the Author himself. I’m not going to lead him to The Book of Galamore so he can write an ending as he pleases. The world works in a certain way, Gwen. We cannot simply disrupt the lives of everyone because you think you might be right. Even if he is the great Lord Winterlyn, that doesn’t mean he can’t become evil or that he will write an ending beneficial to us all. That doesn’t mean he won’t gain all the relic keys and suddenly be killed by a party of ravagers who will then hold all the power in their hands.” He shook his head. “I cannot allow this. My vote is to forget this meeting ever happened.”
Gwen looked away from Kellen, her eyes pleading for the others to side with her on this matter. But Jandar and Laegren both shook their heads. They didn’t like it any more than Kellen. Hoccar scratched at his beard until he finally looked at Gwen and shook his head.
It was decided. No matter what she said, no matter what she knew, the Sentinels had no desire to help Nathaniel Cole.
She felt tears come to her eyes as anger welled up within her. None of the tears fell, but there was no doubt the others could see them.
“We will allow them to stay the night, I hope,” she said, her voice thick. “They have journeyed far and sending them away now would give them a late start.”
Hoccar nodded. “Given that they have the gray elf with them, it would be safer for them to stay here for the night than in any of the nearby towns.”
Gwen nodded, her teeth clenched together. She spun from them and made her way for the door. She was out of the meeting hall in a flash.
Gwen marched toward the guest quarters to tell her new friends that she had failed to help them. However, a plan formed in her mind that was both dangerous and possibly crazy. The other Sentinels didn’t know. They couldn’t know. But for Kellen to dismiss her so out of hand…she wanted to set the man ablaze and watch him burn to ashes.
That anger flared up within her when she heard Kellen call out her name from the other end of the hallway. She spun around to face him. He was alone. Dark and menacing.
“What was that all about?” he asked.
“You know as I have told it,” she said.
“I don’t trust you.”
“What have I done to make you distrust me?”
“Well, let’s see. You have withheld important history from us for nearly a millennium—that you knew the true identity of Lord Winterlyn. How many times have you heard us speculate about the man? How many times did you sit back, holding in a smirk as we discussed our theories of who Lord Winterlyn might have truly been?”
“Never,” Gwen said. “Never did I entertain those conversations or lead any of you to believe something that wasn’t true. I kept it to myself because it didn’t matter and…” Her voice trailed off.
Kellen stared at her for a long moment until his face softened with realization. “Oh, I see.”
Gwen looked at him sharply. “What?”
A devious grin spread across Kellen’s face as he set his hands behind his back and started pacing, staring at the ground as a river of thoughts seemed to flow through his mind. “You were close to him.” He looked up at her, his eyes narrowing as if to try and catch a change in her expression.
Whatever change happened—a sudden rush of blood to her cheeks, the widening of her eyes—Gwen was unable to stop it, betraying her hidden thoughts.
“That is why you haven’t forgotten his face,” Kellen continued. “That is why you remember his voice. That is why you want to help him.”
“Whatever you may believe,” Gwen said, sticking out her chin, “I have no personal feelings in the matter. All I know is what is true and what has already happened, and Nathaniel Cole has a destiny to fulfill. He will reach The Book of Time, and he will become Lord Winterlyn. I have already seen it happen.”
“Then I suggest we put this to the test,” Kellen said. “Why don’t I try to kill him and see if it works?”
Gwen’s mouth hung open. “You are a Sentinel. It is beneath you to suggest such a thing.”
“Well, if you’re right, then what would be the problem? If you’re right, I can’t kill him.”
“That is the problem,” Gwen said. “Neither of us know if that is how the magic works. No such thing has ever been tested. I know that he is supposed to go into The Book of Time, but if you stop him, what does that do to our history? What if the past isn’t any more certain than the future?”
“You’re suggesting that if he dies now, the course of the future is changed which changes the course of history?”
Gwen shook her head. “His death might throw us back into the Age of Dragons. Who knows what kind of ramifications it would bring?”
Kellen studied her for a moment, but she looked away from him. She hated all this talk. She hated that the Sentinels had dismissed her so quickly, deciding the fate of them all on a feeling rather than fully thinking it through.
“Don’t do anything foolish, Gwen,” Kellen said.
Now she looked up at him and shook her head. “And what would I do? The Sentinels have spoken. We have all cast our vote. There is nothing I can do.”
“I hope you truly see it that way.”
Gwen started to walk away from him and toward the guest rooms, but Kellen stayed in the hallway, staring after her.
A plan had already formed in her mind. She knew she could count on Jesse and Elise for help. And the others in Nathaniel’s group were capable.
Gwen had been there at the dawning of the new age. She had seen the end of the Great Dragon Wars with her own eyes. She knew Lord Winterlyn. She knew Nathaniel Cole. None of the other Sentinels had her experience. In her mind, it was settled. That night she would try to sneak them out of the keep, though she wouldn’t tell them yet. Not outright, anyway.
Defying the other Sentinels and going rogue was the last thing Gwen ever wanted to do. But it seemed that only she, out of everyone else in this world, knew the weight of what was to come.
Joe
Summer, 903 A.O.M.
It had been hard for Joe to leave the bank the way they did. He hated bloodshed, and nobody was supposed to die that day—even though he and Clive were responsible for the death of Fergus and Gerd, as well as anyone who died during the Okoro gang’s massacre. But neither Joe nor Clive had planned it the ways things ended up.
When Joe had read Tyler Montgomery’s name in the banker’s record book, he didn’t know what to think, but Clive had hurried him along. The sound of gunfire and screams had gotten closer to the bank, and Joe was forced into motion. He set the book in his pocket, then grabbed his six-shooter from his holster and followed Clive out into the street. The rest was a blur. They somehow avoided being seen by the rowdy fighters in the streets and found their way back to their horses. It seemed that before Joe could even blink twice they were already miles out of town and setting up camp near the edge of the woods.
They sat on top of a hill, their bedrolls out and a fire already lit. The black smoke from Somerled rose high into the air and clouded the orange and red sky that reminded Joe a little too much of blood. Smoke and blood. Smoke and blood. It was all he saw.
He felt so sick to his stomach about the whole thing that he refused any of the food Clive offered him.
Both men sat quietly, unable to take their eyes off the city below them. Joe wondered if it was safe to have a fire once night came, seeing as how the Okoro gang would probably leave the city once they were run out properly, but he didn’t say anything about it to Clive. He figured if they did come this way, they’d just tell the Okoro gang who they were and welcome them into the Renegade family, even if it wasn’t the truth. It would at least save their skin. But Joe didn’t feel like he deserved having his skin saved. He deserved to die just like the innocents in Somerled.
Joe looked at the book every few minutes, thumbing through the pages that didn’t make much sense to him. Clive eventually took it and tried to figure it out, but it was clear neither one of them were in the right state of mind to study it closely.
“You realize that book was paid for with a big price,” Joe said.
“I do,” Clive answered. “But I didn’t know any of that would happen any more than you did. Best thing you can do in a situation like this is to finish what you set out to do.”
“You think shooting Fergus in the head was the right thing to do?” Joe asked.
He had an accusing tone in his voice that Clive didn’t like, because when he spoke, Clive’s face twisted into a mean look with jagged eyebrows and a red face. “You know as well as I do that the moment we cut him loose he’d tell the world who we are and that the Renegades were the ones to start that mess.” He gestured toward Somerled with the book.
“I know,” Joe said. “But if we hadn’t been trying to gain more power or legitimacy, or whatever you want to call it, those people in that city would be at peace right now, living the way they do every day.”
“Maybe so,” Clive said, “but it is a sign of the things to come.”
“What are you blabbing on about?”
Clive shook his head. “All you can see is what this world has to do with you. You can’t look past yourself for one cotton-pickin’ second. Galamore has been on the brink of all out war for years. It’s about time someone like the Renegades got ahold of one of The Ancient Books—all of them for that matter.” He held the book in the air. “This thing might just lead the way.”
“Sorry if it’s difficult for me to look beyond myself, but I’m still trying to understand my role in all of this,” Joe said. “Obviously I’m going after The Book of Time because, according to you, I’m gonna use it to go back in time and visit you.”
“Well, do yourself a favor and save the trip,” Clive snapped. “I don’t want to hear from you.”
“Not sure I can control it,” Joe said. “Since it’s already happened and all.”
“You’ve made this a really long few years, you know that?”
“I’ve made them better,” Joe said. “I saved your life and I helped you build the Renegades into something you would have never been able to do on your own.”
“I bet you think you’d make a better Warlord, too,” Clive said.
“Better than you? In my sleep.”
“You wanna go to sleep? I’ll put you to sleep!” Clive tossed the book to the ground and at a blinding speed, he was on his feet. Joe was up too, but he wasn’t ready for Clive’s tackle which put the larger man on top of him. A punch. A second one. A third one. Each of them landed somewhere on Joe’s face, and each of them felt like a bone was either breaking in his face or in Clive’s hands. But it was only a second or two before Joe pushed upward and flung Clive off him. Now the two were standing toe-to-toe with their fists in the air, Joe having yet to land a punch. He could feel the blood trickling down his face. He didn’t know what he’d said to make Clive lash out like that, but he didn’t care. The man needed a lesson and Joe was willing to teach him.
He swung his fist once and Clive ducked out of the way, but he wasn’t ready for Joe’s quick-jabbing second attack. The punch landed in the middle of Clive’s nose and it bled immediately. Another punch and another tackle, and the two were on top of each other again. This went on for several minutes. Joe wasn’t going to let up until he or Clive was out cold. He finally swung his body around and set his palm against Clive’s forehead while bringing his own arm up for another punch to Clive’s face. But when Joe noticed Clive wasn’t looking at him, Joe hesitated. His eyes weren’t even looking past Joe, but beside him. And he wasn’t struggling. At first, he wondered if Clive was just trying to play him so he could get the upper hand, but the look in his eyes told him differently. Joe finally looked up and his hands fell to his sides immediately.
Six men on horseback road about a hundred yards from them. Joe stood up and wiped his bloody nose and Clive did the same. They stood shoulder to shoulder as the riders came toward them. Joe glanced at Clive and decided that he’d put up a pretty good fight, but Clive didn’t look as bad as Joe felt. As the riders came closer, Joe didn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or angry.
“What do ya’ll want?” Clive called out.
There was one rider that moved ahead of the rest, clearly the leader. But the others had their guns drawn, though not aimed, in case Joe or Clive tried anything. This didn’t look good, Joe knew. They had been caught unaware.
“You boys fightin’ over the last scrap of meat?” the lead rider asked.
“Personal matter,” Joe said. “None of your concern. Now go on about your business.” He knew they’d do nothing of the sort. Joe and Clive were their business now.
“Ya’ll are in our camping spot,” the man said.
“Sorry, but I didn’t see a name on it,” Clive came back.
“You see,” the man said, “my men are tired and they need a rest. Seein’ as this is the best spot to set up watch and stay out of sight, I reckon we’re gonna take it.”
“Well it ain’t too out of sight,” Joe said. “You saw us.”
“A blind pig would have seen you fellers,” the man said and turned to his companions who chuckled after him. “Ya’ll been makin’ such a ruckus I heard you before I even saw your fire, such as it is.”
“We can share the spot,” Joe offered.
But the man shook his head. “No can do. I’ve got more than these. I got about a hundred or so.”
Joe and Clive looked at each other, doing their best to hide their shock. These had to be scouts for the Okoro gang who were probably on their way out of Somerled for the night. And the man was right. For such a large group, being on the hill like this would be great for a few men to keep watch while others slept. Then in the morning they’d probably break through the woods and back to their hideout.
This wasn’t good. They could tell them who they were and would probably be spared a fight, but eventually, the leader of the Okoro gang would find out that Fergus was dead and they weren’t invited to be a part of the Renegades. Either way, they were dead men.
But there were only six of them here. Joe and Clive were all loaded up with twelve bullets between them. Joe could take them by himself except for one or two of the men. Clive probably had a good shot at them. But Joe wasn’t sure that was the direction they needed to go. Surely they could lie their way out of this—welcome the Okoro gang to the Renegades with open arms and then, when the time was right, blow their brains out.
“You’re with the Okoro gang ain’t you?” Joe asked. “You just attacked Somerled over there.”
The man squinted his eyes at Joe. “You a runner? Got out of the city just in time only to find yourself in the same spot?”
“Actually,” Clive piped up, “we’re the ones who hired you.”
He squinted at Clive this time. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that you’re threatening the Warlord,” Clive said, “and in doing so, you threaten a partnership with the Renegades.”
Joe watched the man for a moment. He could almost see him weighing the options, the truth versus a lie, to kill them or to let them be.
“I suggest you find another spot,” Clive said. “
And we’ll pretend this never happened.”
“How do I know you’re tellin’ the truth?”
“You don’t.”
“In the Okoro gang,” the man said, “we’re taught to kill first and ask questions later.”
“You kill either of us, you’ll be hearing a lot of questions,” Clive said, “just before your boss guts you and hangs you from a tree for the buzzards.”
The man nodded at Joe. “Still, I like what your friend offered. We need a good spot and this really is a good one for tonight. If yer tellin’ the truth, then I’d be willin’ to share it.”
“Find another spot,” Clive said.
The man pulled out his pistol and cocked it, aiming the barrel at Clive’s head. “You ain’t said enough to make me trust you yet, so I ain’t opposed to just shootin’ you. My boss will understand, I’m sure.”
Joe’s hand hovered over his pistol. He wanted to take the shots, but he didn’t know if Clive was on board. If Joe couldn’t see all his targets, then at least one of them would get a shot off before he could get to them all. That meant either Joe or Clive could be dead in a split second. It wasn’t worth the risk.
“Come on, Clive,” Joe said out the side of his mouth. “Why don’t we just share the spot?”
Clive looked at him like he was crazy, his eyebrows high and his eyes narrowed. But Joe gave him an affirming nod.
“Listen to your little buddy here,” the man said. “We ain’t gonna bite.”
Clive licked the side of his mouth and his eyes fell to the man’s gun. “We’ll just be on our way.”
The man looked from Clive to Joe then back before a devious grin spread across his face. “Now that we’re being friendly here, whadda you say we git to know each other a little better?” He turned to his man at the back of the crowd, the one that Joe never had a good sight on, and nodded. “Let them know we got a good spot.” The other man acknowledged him and was already making his way to his horse.
The next few seconds felt strange to Joe. He kept his right hand ready to reach for his gun, but the other newcomers already seemed at ease with their situation. The leader stood comfortably in front of them while the four other lackeys pulled out their weapons and set themselves in a good spot to fire at Joe and Clive should the need arise.
The Outlaw's Quest (Keeper of the Books, Book 2) Page 8
