Keeper of the Books (Keeper of the Books, Book 1) (33 page)

His eyes scanned the crowd until they finally fell on Joe. For a long moment Clive stared at him, almost like he was trying to communicate something, or perhaps he was contemplating an idea. Either way, he still seemed apprehensive about what he wanted to say.
 

He took another deep breath and turned his eyes from Joe. “You can know that I keep my promises of change because I have already implemented change,” he said. “Today you’re voting for a new Warlord because Fredrick Merk is dead. And he’s dead because I killed him.”

A collective gasp sounded through the crowd as if each man had been punched squarely in the stomach. Joe felt like he had just been betrayed. He watched as soldiers looked from side to side at their comrades, wondering what it meant.
 

Clement took a step forward on the platform and pulled a six-shooter from his belt. “Traitor!” he yelled. “You’re a traitor to us all!”

“Am I?” Clive said, looking at Clement. “Or am I the savior of the Renegades?” He turned back to the crowd. “How many of you have wanted a change? How many of you wanted new leadership? How many of you have hoped and wished that Fredrick Merk would die in one of the few battles we’ve ever had? How many times have you heard the rumors that Merk had been paid off by President DalGaard? If you side with me, I’ll take you where our vision truly lies. I have the boldness to act against a leader who doesn’t fulfill his promises. I’ll take that action all the way to the president. If you elect me as the new Warlord, you will have President Jacob Dalgaard’s head on a plate!”

“I still don’t know what you were thinking,” Joe said as he leaned against a tree, staring at Clive who was tied up next to him. “You realize you’ve done nothing but seal our fates, don’t you?”

“Well, we’re not dead yet,” Clive said. “I’m taking a gamble on you.”

“What do you mean on me?” Joe’s fists were clenched tightly.
 

“I mean that I’m taking this whole time traveling thing seriously,” Clive said. “It was you that I saw. So, unless you’re an extremely elaborate prankster, then I think we’re going to make it through this. Consider it a test.”

“Oh that’s great,” Joe said. “Don’t you think there might be a better way of testing the whole traveling through time thing than to admit to the entire camp that we murdered the Warlord?”

“Technically you killed him,” Clive said with a smile. The smile faded quickly, however, when both of them noticed Clement making his way to them. It had been Clement who ordered Clive to be tied up with Joe. It was a move to void Clive’s participation in the vote, but the rules were rules and Clive still had a chance. Clement still had him tied up so he wouldn’t get any ideas of sneaking out of the camp before the vote was finished.

“That was a bold move, Clive,” Clement said. His jaw was set firm and he seemed angry. “Do you realize if this vote doesn’t go your way, you
and
your friend here will be dead tonight?”

“Come now, Clement,” Clive said. “You have to admit that it was the right thing to do. Don’t act like we’ve never talked about it before. Assassinating Fredrick Merk was always on the table.”

“But never carried out,” Clement said. “Besides, if I win, I’m not sure I like the idea of you having that over my head.”

“So, that’s it then? You’re going to do away with me because I know what kind of plans you made? You called me a traitor on that stage but the only difference between you and me is that I pulled the trigger and you didn’t.”

“Maybe,” Clement said. “But now I know there are people here who are willing to kill to become the Warlord. And you’re one of those people.”

“I don’t even want to be the Warlord,” Clive said. “I’ll concede the position to you as long as you let me and my friend here go free.”

Clement let out a chuckle. “You think that’ll do it, don’t you? You think I stand a chance of losing this little election?” He rested a hand on his pistol. “If I was worried about the election, I would have shot you on stage and it would have been justified. You’re not going to win. And as soon as them pebbles are counted, and I’m announced as the Warlord, you and your friend are gonna die in front of everybody. There’ll be no mercy for the man who kills for power.”

“You and I both know I don’t want the power. Just let us go. Right now, Clement. The election is yours.”

Clement spat on the ground and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “It’s been nice knowing you, Clive.” He started to turn and walk away but stopped and looked back. “Actually, it hasn’t.”

The crowd gathered again as a man that Joe had never seen before stood on the stage with a piece of paper in his hands. He seemed nervous and fidgety, probably because he was the only man of the entire group of Renegades who knew who was going to be the next Warlord and everyone’s attention was on him.

This man,
Joe thought,
will announce my fate.
 

Joe wanted to believe that he would be back six years from now. He still wasn’t convinced that Clive wasn’t just crazy. Though, what he had told Joe already wasn’t enough to discount him. If Clive were crazy, he wouldn’t have given Joe information about his brother. If Clive were crazy, he wouldn’t have known that Joe had never killed anybody before. Clive knew something. He saw something a few nights ago. And Joe couldn’t really understand it. He wondered why his future self hadn’t just visited the Joe of the present? Why wouldn’t he have just come back and told Joe to avoid the Renegades altogether? It seemed like a rough crowd to be around, anyway. Why would he want to be a part of it? Joe had no disdain for the president. Better to be in a leader’s good graces than an outlaw’s. Of course, up until now, Joe hadn’t had much of a choice. Even if he had left Clive in Vandikhan, Joe might have starved to death or gotten eaten in the woods by some bear. All Joe knew was that if Clive was right, then he had a solid six years left, at least. It just didn’t seem like that was a possibility now.

“The votes are in,” the man on the platform declared, though he could barely be heard. A few of the soldiers yelled for him to speak up. This time, his voice was loud, though still a bit shaky. “The votes are in!” he repeated. “In third and final place, Dooley brings in the least amount of votes with thirteen.”

A few men in the crowd laughed at this, but most, like Joe and Clive, stared at the man on the platform, hanging on his every word.
 

“And with a decided victory of 635 votes, the new Warlord is…”

Joe’s heart sank inside him. Over six hundred votes. There was no way Clive was the winner. Joe considered trying to run despite the ropes around his wrists. Better to die with bullets chasing after him than at a burning stake, he thought.
 

“Clive!” the man from the platform said.
 

Clive raised his fists in the air and laughed loudly as the men in the crowd cheered. Joe couldn’t believe his ears. He was sure that he was a dead man.
 

“I told you, Joe! I told you!” He called for one of the guards. “Cut our ropes! Get us our guns back!”

The guard barely even looked at Joe as he slipped his knife between Joe’s wrists and cut the rope. Joe’s arms dangled freely as the guard left and then came back with Joe’s gun belt and pistol. He latched the belt to his waist and checked his gun for bullets. He was set and allowed to leave if he wanted. He could walk away and no one would say a word.

He looked at Clive and smiled. “The truth shall set you free.”

“The truth was a gamble,” Clive answered back. “It paid off.”

“Except you don’t want to be the Warlord.”

Clive shrugged. “I’ll give it a whirl. If it ain’t my thing, I’ll pass it on to someone else.” He sighed and set a hand on Joe’s shoulder. “You’re a free man. You should get out of here before you get roped into doing too much with the likes of us.”

“I thought you said you and I were going to be friends,” Joe said with a smirk. “You know, in the future.”

“And perhaps we will,” Clive said. “But the future is for us to decide.”

“I’m beginning to think that’s not true.”

“Well,” Clive said, “if fate brings us together again, then so be it. I’m already glad to call you a friend. You saved my life the other day. For that you will always have my thanks, but I believe I’ve repaid you.”

“More than,” Joe said. “Thank you, Clive.”

“Go on, now. I’ve got a victory speech to give. I’ll instruct a guard to prepare a horse for your journey.”

Joe wasn’t sure what journey Clive was referring to. He knew that for some reason he was meant to look for
The Book of Time
, but what did that mean, really? Joe had no reason to look for the book now. The only soul he knew in Galamore was making his way to the platform to give another speech.
 

A moment ago, walking away would have gotten him killed. Now as he walked, no one gave him a second glance. Most were too excited about their new leader. Others were simply taking in the spectacle of celebration. And more brought out drinks and food.

Joe figured that Fredrick Merk must have been a sorry leader indeed for such a party to ensue after the news of his demise. Joe approached the guard who had a saddled horse ready for him. The man strapped bedding and packs of food to the saddle, and he looked up and gave Joe a good snarl before handing him the reins.

Joe mounted the horse and began making his way out of the camp. He was provided with enough supplies to last for a while, but he had no idea how long he would be using them. Joe feared the long road ahead of him, wherever he was going.

As he rode out, he could hear Clive start talking to the soldiers.
 

“This is a great day for the Renegades,” Clive said. “As the Warlord, my first order of business…”

“Wait!” a voice cried out from the crowd.
 

Joe pulled up on the horse and turned his head to see the source of the voice. It came from Clement.
 

“You have no right to take this position! You are a murderer and a thief.”

Clive shrugged and said calmly, “It’s what the men want, Clement. Stand down.”

“I won’t stand down and let you take over like this,” Clement said. “You’re no different than the tyrant who rules Galamore!”

Joe pulled on the reins harder and gave the horse a sharp kick. He reached down for his pistol as the horse bounced him up and down.
 

“Your atrocities are inexcusable at best,” he said. “I for one am not going to stand for this!”

No one expected Clement to raise the gun in the air. No one expected him to point the gun at Clive’s face. No one, but Joe.
 

From this distance, stopping Clement wouldn’t be easy, but he had to try. Clive had just saved Joe’s life by risking his own. There was no way Joe could allow him to die like this.
 

It took less than a second for Joe’s gun to come up and for him to let off a round in Clement’s direction. Firing accurately was Joe’s skill—a natural instinct that almost seemed born into him. Before Clement could squeeze his trigger and let off his assassin’s bullet, a cloud of red mist sprayed into the air, and Clement wore a shocked look on his face. His pistol fell to the platform and the gaping hole in his forehead started drooling. He then fell face forward, and tumbled off the side. Clive was left standing alone with a cocked pistol and pool of blood beside his foot. When he looked up, he saw the crowd staring at a man on his horse, his gun still pointed at the platform.
 

“I thought you were leaving,” Clive managed to say.
 

“And where in the world am I supposed to go?” Joe came back. “Besides, somebody needs to protect our new Warlord.”

Autumn, 903 A.O.M.

Levi wasn’t quite sure he could put up with this little band of trackers much longer. He had made it no secret that he was used to working alone, but apparently Nathaniel Cole had dug himself in a deep hole not a full day into his coming to Galamore. Actually, these men were a lot less worried about Nathaniel Cole as they were this gray elf named Marum. Levi had figured out somewhere along the way that she was sister to some revolutionary named Droman, and that her execution was meant to bring him out into the open. But the sheriff and these Rangers had mucked everything up. However, Levi knew the truth. Levi knew that Nathanial more than likely woke up in some random spot just as Levi had. It just so happened that Levi ended up near Vincent and Nathaniel had been in a jail cell.
 

Where he belonged,
Levi thought to himself.
 

He had no plans to tell anyone about this. Had no need to. It would just confuse them and he didn’t need to explain himself. Not that he would be able to explain it, really. This book he was in was an object of dark magic. He’d never believed in magic before, but he sure did now. But Levi was determined to keep his thoughts focused on Nathaniel. Anytime a thought about being in a brand new world popped into his head, he quickly shoved it aside. Once he got ahold of Nathaniel and killed him, he’d be able to think about where he was and what he needed to do to get back home.

The party with him totaled four: himself, Sheriff Strand, Ranger Gibbons, and another Ranger named Devlin. It was Devlin who made Levi want to break away from the group. He was injured for one thing. That made the man complain and whine the entire way. But apparently he was some terrific tracker who could spot any track under most conditions. If there was anyone who could find Nathaniel Cole’s trail, it was Devlin.

Still, if Levi had to hear that Devlin had been beaten up or stabbed in the shoulder one more time, he just might lose it. But even with all of Devlin’s annoyance, Levi couldn’t escape the feeling that the injured Ranger might have been putting on a show in order to be dismissed. But Ranger Gibbons seemed to ignore the man entirely until he had something useful to say about the trail they were on.

Sheriff Strand stayed quiet most of the way and Levi figured he was more of an extra gun to have in case of a fight. He had a young face and probably hadn’t been the sheriff for too long. Levi had gathered that Nathaniel’s breakout had mostly been blamed on Strand, so the man didn’t want to say much, but eagerly anticipated finding this gray elf. He seemed more afraid of Ranger Gibbons than anything else.