Joe and Clive stood rigid. Joe knew they had to do something. They couldn’t just stand there and wait for the cavalry to show up. Most of all he wanted to avoid a meeting with the leader to whom they’d no doubt have to lie in order to stay alive. But he feared that these men were going to shoot them in the back if they turned away.
Joe caught Clive’s eye when he looked at him and he nodded. Joe knew what it meant. He and Clive had worked together for a long time now. Clive knew who the superior shooter was, and Joe knew who the better talker was. There were five men here so that left Joe with one shot to miss. But he’d have to take out the nearest ones first. That’d be the leader, then one of his men who was closer to Joe just standing like he was waiting for the others to show up. Then there were the three who were rummaging through their packs. Joe would just mow them down in a line. But first, he needed Clive to distract them.
“So,” Clive said, resting his hands on his hips and kicking at the dirt. “How many people did you kill down there?”
The leader smiled and shook his head. “Too many to count.” He said this with a sharp nod like he was proud of the fact. The fire cast a red glow on his face that made him seem evil, Joe thought. But maybe it was just who he was and what he represented.
“We could’ve ransacked the whole city,” he continued. “Shoot, we could’ve stayed through the night, but boss said it was time to go. Can’t say I’s ready, you boys?” He raised a hand in the air and the others either let out a chuckle or a holler. “So, I’m just a little perplexed as to why you two were fightin’ just a minute ago. Is it about money?”
Joe’s eyes went to the book on the ground, and the moment he did they snapped back to the leader, hoping he hadn’t noticed. But Joe’s slight movement had been too obvious and too suspicious for the leader to contain himself.
His eyes narrowed and he looked in the direction Joe had looked. Now he didn’t seem so relaxed. He squinted even harder at the spot until he saw the leather bound cover filled with pages. “Well, don’t that beat all…” was all he got out before a bullet spilled his brains onto the dirt. The shot was loud and it served to stun the men more than anything else. Joe took the opportunity, fanning the hammer with his left palm, first at the man who had been standing off to the side, and then at the three who had been rummaging through their packs. Each shot was perfect and each man soon lay dead on the ground.
Clive was quick to move. “Nice shooting,” he said. “Get your horse and let’s get out of here. That group will probably speed up now that they’ve heard shots.”
Joe almost wished he had tried to take out all six earlier, but they wouldn’t have been clean shots. Now there was a man among the others who knew what Joe and Clive looked like, and there certainly wasn’t enough time to hide the evidence. Disposing of five dead bodies and leaving no sign would take hours. They had minutes.
“Do you hear that?” Clive asked, holding a hand up to his ear. “Horses.”
Seconds. They had seconds. First thing Joe did was reload his pistol while Clive grabbed Montgomery’s book off the ground. Then both of them were on their horses, leaving their packs behind. After a minute or two of running hard through the woods, he and Clive stopped to have a listen in the direction of the camp. The sun had completely faded and there was little starlight. It would be difficult to gain much ground pushing ahead given that neither Clive nor Joe were familiar with the terrain. It would take a couple of hours of riding to properly get their bearings. If the men who were undoubtedly coming after them knew anything about this area, they’d be overtaken soon.
Joe didn’t have to tell this to Clive. He knew what kind of trouble they were in. He looked at Joe and shook his head. “They’ve found it by now.”
“Not much by way of hiding,” Joe said. “What do you think?”
Clive swore under his breath. “Just keep riding, I guess. They might catch up to us, but there ain’t no reason we should make it easy on them.”
These were Joe’s thoughts exactly.
It took the Okoro gang a solid hour to catch up to Joe and Clive, and it cost Joe six bullets and Clive three. But it cost both of them the book they’d stolen earlier in the day. Thanks to these two, the Okoro gang had lost eight men, but they finally had their prisoners. Joe and Clive sat tied up against a tree with loaded weapons pointed at them like they were about to spring at any second. The two kept silent despite a few pointed remarks or threats from the others. They knew they didn’t have to say anything until it was time to talk to the big man. Joe had heard plenty about the Okoro gang. He knew their leader, who so appropriately went by the name Slaughter, was no one to take a picnic with. He was as ruthless as they came. But Joe supposed he had to be in order to lead the Okoro gang.
Okoro. It was a strange sounding name, one that came from deep inside the Great Ridge to the north. But the Okoro gang wasn’t just a bunch of family members anymore. It had grown into an organization or gang that took pleasure in other people’s calamity. Sure there were other bad gangs that were spotted here and there, but nothing like the Okoro gang. As far as Joe knew, most of the gangs that were in Galamore had originated as a family and had then grown into something bigger. All of them had their creeds and their codes, but essentially they were all the same. Too many times Joe and Clive had discussed the best way to make the Renegades different from the gangs since they were so often lumped together. But the Renegades had never come from a family and they didn’t take pleasure in calamity—although after raids against government banks and carriages it was hard for people to think they were little more than petty thieves.
Think political. Think political, Joe would always have to say to himself. They were gaining a large following, but all that could come to an abrupt end by the conclusion of the night. All it would take was the order of Slaughter Okoro, and their heads would be lopped off, or their brains shot out, or their necks stretched. Knowing Slaughter’s reputation, the pair was more likely to be drawn and quartered or forced to fight wild and hungry dogs while naked.
They didn’t have to wait long before a messenger came to them and said it was time. The guards slowly brought them to their feet and led them to a tent that had been erected in the middle of the woods. Candle flames produced dancing shadows as they approached and Joe counted three men inside the tent. One of the guards lifted the flap and motioned for the two of them to walk. Joe tugged on the ropes at his wrists but they were too tight. Even if he did get them loose there was no place for him to run. He felt he had a better chance of talking his way out of this than running, though talking probably wouldn’t get them anywhere.
Joe was right about there being three men in the tent. Two of them were just a couple of roughneck guards who slouched in separate corners, their hands resting calmly on their pistols at the hip. The third man was sitting. He had dark, greasy hair that was combed back, and a black mustache under his nose that creeped thinly beside his mouth into points. His skin was dark with an almost reddish tone to it. What stood out to Joe the most were the number of scars on his face. The man looked like he’d seen his fair share of knife fights. But Joe had the feeling he hadn’t lost any of them. You don’t become the leader of the Okoro gang without a few scars, and you sure don’t become the leader by losing knife fights.
Slaughter sat at a small table that was completely bare save for one item: The Way. When Joe and Clive were ushered into the tent, Slaughter looked up at them and smiled. His two front teeth looked to be made of gold and they sparkled in the candlelight. He tapped the book in front of him with a heavily ringed hand.
“You’ve provided a gift for me tonight,” he said. “This book could fetch a handsome amount of gold from the right people. I could use it as a bargaining chip. I could go looking for The Book of Time myself, then go after the relic key.”
“I suggest the third option,” Clive said out of the side of his mouth. He was answered with a swift punch to the stomach by the guard standing next to him. He doubled over and
coughed loudly as Slaughter began again.
“More than the book, I’m interested to know why the Warlord and his manservant are killing my men.” He looked from Clive to Joe, back and forth. “Which one of you is the Warlord?”
“I am,” Clive said immediately.
“Of course. The one with the big mouth. Confident. Composed. You probably have no fear do you?”
“If you’re asking if I’m afraid of you, the answer is certainly not.”
“You should be,” Slaughter said.
“Why’s that?”
“I’m not afraid to kill the Warlord.”
Clive stood frozen. Joe allowed a glance his way, but the man was stone faced. Either Slaughter was pretending that he saw something in Clive’s eyes, or he really did, but the man started laughing.
“I can see through you,” Slaughter said. “You weren’t afraid until I said that, yes?”
No answer.
Slaughter waved the air in front of his face. “No matter. I want to know what happened to my man, Fergus. Is he dead?”
“Yes,” Clive said. “I shot him in the head.”
Slaughter winced. “You are ruthless. You would fit well with us. It’s a pity that I don’t get the time to know you like I knew the former Warlord, Fredrick Merk.”
“You didn’t know him,” Clive said. “You only knew of him.”
“True, true, but I knew him as a man that wouldn’t go back on his word.”
“We never gave you our word,” Joe said. He felt a surge of anger toward Slaughter that he couldn’t explain.
“Who is this?” Slaughter asked. “Why do you let your pig servant speak for you?”
“He’s not my servant,” Clive said. “He’s my second in command.”
Slaughter’s eyebrows raised a little and Joe wondered if it was such a good idea for Clive to reveal that information. It was too late now.
“Second in command, huh? This is a privilege then. And quite dangerous for your organization, I might add.”
“I don’t dispute the fact that you’re not afraid to kill us both,” Clive said, “but you and I share similar interests.”
“Such as?”
“We’re both outlaws,” Clive said. “The difference is that your gang…”
“Organization,” Slaughter said, rolling his eyes. “I hate the term gang. It sounds so frivolous. So small.”
“Fine,” Clive said. “The difference is that your organization runs from the law, while mine faces it head on. Our aim is to take down the government as it is. I’m your best bet of that ever happening.”
“Oh, I see,” Slaughter said, nodding slowly. “So, you’re saying that since your goal is to destroy the president and his government, then I should let you go so you can accomplish that goal. And when you’ve done that, and our new government is set up, and all the people are free and happy, then the Okoro organization shouldn’t be afraid because we will be accepted by society. Am I saying that right?”
“That’s a future I can’t predict,” Clive said. “All I know is, we have common interests, and I have loyal followers. You kill us both and you’re going to have trouble with them.”
“Your speech about a new government didn’t work so you threaten me? You think that will save your skin?”
Clive shook his head and stared down at the floor. It was a moment of weakness for him. Joe thought it looked like he was grasping for straws. Truth was, Slaughter Okoro had beaten him and they were going to die. Clive stood there not as the Warlord, but as a helpless man. A memory flashed through Joe’s mind of a day when Clive didn’t want to be the Warlord. He’d done it to save Joe’s life, but now he was stuck with the title—one he was proud to wear, but one that was a heavy burden as well. Now it seemed that burden was crushing him. He showed no emotion, but Joe could see he held the weight of the world on his shoulders. He knew he wondered some of the same things Joe wondered—like what would the Renegades become without them? They had worked so hard creating an organization free of crime and hatred and geared for a purpose, knowing all the while that it could crumble in an instant. Without Clive, it would crumble.
“I don’t understand why capturing us means you must kill us,” Joe said, feeling brave.
“Normally it wouldn’t,” Slaughter said. “But eight of my men are dead because of you. And I was lied to. I was told we could collaborate with the Renegades. But clearly that’s not happening.”
“We never made that promise to you,” Joe said. “That was fabricated by Fergus; he played us both. But his meddling led to his demise.”
“And the demise of my men,” Slaughter said. “I’m a leader here, I cannot let their deaths go without retribution. Someone has to pay.” He raised his hands in the air and shrugged. “And who better than the men who killed them?”
“That book you’ve got has to be worth something,” Joe said. “That’s got to be worth more than the lives of eight men.”
“That depends on the men,” Slaughter said. “One of them you killed was a family member of mine. Not a close one, but it’s enough for me to deny the book as full payment.” He took a deep breath. “Besides, this is little more than a roadmap to The Book of Time. For all I know, it’s outdated. What else do you have?”
“Two horses,” Joe said. “They’re good stock. Young.”
Slaughter waved him off. “I have too many horses as it is. They mean nothing to me.”
Joe’s mind was scrambling. What did they have that might be worth something to Slaughter? He tried to rack his brain but there was nothing. The only thing he could think of doing was offering a chance to collaborate, but Slaughter would see right through it.
“The book,” Slaughter said, “might be worth one of you. But the other has to pay. I already dread having to tell my great aunt that her son is dead. She already weeps too much.”
One of us, Joe thought. They will let one of us go.
“Fine then,” Joe said. “Take the book, and take me.”
Clive’s head snapped up. “What?”
“Let the Warlord go back so he can lead his people,” Joe continued.
Slaughter raised his eyebrows again. “You would sacrifice yourself for your leader?”
Joe swallowed. “Yes.”
“Joe, I can’t let you do that.”
Joe just shook his head, not taking his eyes off of Slaughter. The man intertwined his fingers and rested his chin on his knuckles, and his eyes looked up to the tent ceiling as if deep in thought. Joe ignored the protests coming from Clive. Finally, Slaughter slapped a hand against the table.
“Sounds like we’ve struck a deal! Guards, show the Warlord to his horse and take this man and tie him to a tree. If the wild animals don’t eat him, then we’ll kill him soon enough.”
The guards grabbed Joe and Clive and shoved them out of the tent into the night air. Joe’s heart was racing. He had an idea, but it wasn’t much of one.
“Wait a second, wait a second!” Clive yelled as the men dragged them apart. “Why did you do that?”
The guards stopped for a brief moment, clutching the two men by their arms. They waited almost as if they wanted to hear the answer. Perhaps they had never seen a man give himself up for another.
Joe stared into Clive’s eyes. “Because I’m putting all of my trust into you. If what you told me about the future is true, then I’m going to live to visit you again.”
Clive’s eyes lit up. The future had already let them know that Joe was going to survive somehow. That is, if that’s how the magic worked.
The guards pulled Joe and Clive apart, but Joe could still hear his friend’s voice crying out into the night. “What if you were just a spirit? What if it was your ghost?”
Joe didn’t get the chance to answer him, but the only thought that went through his mind was: how could my ghost appear if I ain’t dead yet?
Nate
Winter, 903 A.O.M.
They were together in the library. Alban and Rachel sat on the co
uch facing the window. Marum warmed a chair off to the side. Jesse had left them, not saying a word, probably still confused at the turn of events that the meeting had nothing to do with the gray elf.
Nate preferred to stand. He couldn’t sit still when he was nervous. Not unless he had a drink. Drinking would calm his nerves and if he didn’t have that option, he liked to stand or sometimes pace. It wasn’t the nervous wreck kind of pacing—the incessant back and forth, muttering to himself sort of way. It was just something in the back of his mind that said if he was sitting, he wasn’t doing anything. Standing at least gave him a sense that he wasn’t waiting for someone else to determine his future, even though that was exactly what he was doing.
He knew Sentinel Gwen was making a case for him. Why, he had no idea. The four of them had discussed their theories, but came up with nothing sound. Nate wished they would have been allowed to stay in the meeting hall. He couldn’t imagine what kind of information the Sentinels might be discussing that the four of them didn’t need to hear.
Nate stood inches away from the window now, trying his best to see something past the flatness of the snowy plains. It went on so long he couldn’t see any forests or mountains. At this moment, he couldn’t imagine crawling back that way so soon. Come to think of it, he couldn’t think of a good reason why he would go back except for the possibility that Joe might try to get to the capitol in order to find him. But there was no evidence of that. There was no evidence that Joe was even here.
Nate knew Galamore was a huge place—he figured at least the size of the western United States—but it just seemed that none of the group from Texas would have strayed too far apart, given they were all pulled into the same book at relatively the same time. Nate was sure he hadn’t helped his chances of finding anyone by traveling south for a month, but that was where the Sentinels were supposed to help. The only real evidence that Nate hadn’t come to Galamore alone was Levi Thompson. The man had come through the book, tracking him for days until he finally reached him. Of course, Nate killed the man. It was that or be killed. But Nate wished there could have been a way for the two to sit and talk civilly about the situation they were in. He wondered where Levi might have woken up. He wondered if the man might have seen Nate’s brother. For all Nate knew, Levi had already killed Joe. But he doubted that. Joe was out there somewhere, probably looking for Nate or at least trying to figure all this out.
The Outlaw's Quest (Keeper of the Books, Book 2) Page 9
