The Keeper (Heirs of Legacy Book 2), page 1
Heirs of Legacy, Book 2:
The Keeper
Paul Lauritsen
Heirs of Legacy, Book 2: The Keeper
Copyright © 2020 Paul Lauritsen
All rights reserved
Cover art by Jacquelyn Novelli
Maps by Glen Lauritsen
Other Books by Paul Lauritsen
The Heirs of Legacy Series:
Book 1: The Prince
Book 2: The Keeper
Book 3: The Ramshuk
Book 4: The Captive
For my grandparents, Robert and Judy Miller:
Thank you for your never-ending love, support, and encouragement
Acknowledgements
I’ve mentioned previously that the process of writing a book is long, complicated, and full of minor and major details that each require careful consideration to make the story a success. What I failed to mention previously, is the process of writing a book can also be extraordinarily fun.
Some of this fun comes from the freedom of building a world, constructing characters, and weaving a story that is entirely your own. Some of it comes from sharing that story with your friends, family, and devoted readers. And some of the fun comes in the form of the people you work with to create a finished product – and I was very fortunate to work with some truly amazing individuals on this second book of the Heirs of Legacy series, The Keeper.
The first readers of The Keeper were, of course, my family. My parents and my brother have read this book cover to cover multiple times over. My father once again acted as my editor, for which I am very thankful. He is one of the most detail-oriented people I know, and I sometimes wonder if he knows this book even better than I do. My mother provided support and encouragement throughout the process as well, and my brother provided high-level critique on the story and characters, reading every draft I sent him and listening to every idea I bounced off of him.
I had other helpers along the way as well. I wrote The Keeper while I was a member of the Creative Writers of Aggieland at Texas A&M. Naturally I recruited a couple of my friends from the organization to help with preliminary editing and the overall flow and mechanics of the story. Jeremiah and Kevin both provided enormous amounts of feedback, which helped transform the original rough manuscript into the story it is today.
In addition to Jeremiah and Kevin, I had a third friend that helped me with this book in college, though his role was a little different. Alex, one of my friends from my chemical engineering classes, was the first to read this book in its entirety purely for fun. He wasn’t an editor or a fellow writer, just someone who was willing to give it a read. The fact that Alex read this book all the way through – and enjoyed it thoroughly – was an enormous confidence boost and another step towards making the dream of publishing a reality.
When the time came to publish The Keeper, there were two more people that contributed enormously. Jackie Novelli once again did outstanding work on the cover art, and my brother Glen Lauritsen did an excellent job on the maps that accompany this book. Thank you both for using your amazing talents to give life to this world and this story!
Last but certainly not least, I want to thank my grandparents, whom The Keeper is dedicated to. They have been an extraordinary source of support, patience, encouragement, and wisdom throughout my life. I could never thank them enough for everything they have taught me and everything they have done for me.
To those of you who were early readers of The Prince, thank you. To those of you who are new to the series, welcome! I hope you all enjoy this second book of the Heirs of Legacy series, The Keeper.
The Keeper
Prologue:
Ten Years Prior
Janis Kurkan watched the people passing through the once bountiful market of Ardia with narrowed eyes. Hardly a one took their gaze off the ground in front of them, and fewer stopped to examine the merchants’ meager wares. The only thing people in this war-torn region would spend money on now was food, and there was precious little of that. As a result, what had been a crossroads of the kingdom, colorful and boisterous, with delicious smells hanging on the air, was now a dirty, gray shell where scavenging rodents and birds outnumbered human patrons.
The warrior sipped slowly at his watered-down beer. Janis knew the tavern keeper had diluted it. He could always tell. This kind of knowledge only came to those who drank heavily. Janis justified the habit by reasoning that he had more grief to drown than anyone else. He had long since given up demanding a proper beer from the suffering tavern keepers. Times were hard on all, and Janis really did have much to be thankful for. He was alive, which was more than many a man could say after the war in the South.
Janis scowled. The war. It had claimed so many. And yet, they had not won. Merely made it too costly for the enemy to continue. They’d fought to a draw, but it would not have been so if not for Janis. If not for Lord Kurkan, hero of the realm, the war would have been very short.
A squad of armed and armored men marched past, a hooded and cloaked figure in their midst. Janis snorted. Probably some fool noble trying to avoid being robbed by disguising himself. If he wanted to go unrecognized, he should have left his guards behind.
Janis shifted in his seat and leaned forward, nursing his drink. A squabble amongst three street urchins, no more than six or seven years old, broke out a few meters away, but Janis paid no heed. He was too busy grieving for what had been lost. For the twin brother who had been one of many casualties in the war.
A man’s shout made Janis look up in time to see a stone sail out from one of the deserted stalls on the other side of the market. It struck a soldier in the chest, crashing against his breastplate. The squad came to a halt, bunching around their lord. The man who had been struck advanced on the stall, drawing his sword.
As he drew within ten meters, another projectile flew out from the adjacent stall. This was no stone though. Janis had been in the royal cavalry long enough to know exactly where that stinking bit of filth had come from. The soldiers raised their shields or moved out of the way, but they were not the target. Instead, the mess splattered against the legs of their cloaked lord.
An indistinct shout came from beneath the hood and the soldiers fanned out towards the stalls. All eyes were turned away from Janis and his side of the market. As the soldiers advanced, a flicker of movement caught his eye to the left. Janis looked but saw nothing.
Then a small, scrawny boy bounded out of an alley, the same space where Janis had seen movement, and closed in on the noble. The warrior watched in amazement as the boy snuck right up and cut a small leather bag from the noble’s belt. His purse, Janis realized. The boy started to sneak away, turning to look back, to see if he had been spotted.
And tripped over the stone that had started the incident.
The boy tumbled to the ground in a heap, spilling coins across the cobbles. Everyone in the market was suddenly focused on him. Janis cursed under his breath. He had been rooting for the crafty youth.
The street urchins were the first to react. They pounced, screaming with glee, scooping up a few shiny coins and scurrying away. The thief struggled to his feet, trying to get away. But the soldiers were too quick. One grabbed his wrist and hauled him back while another ripped the purse full of gold away. The noble watched impassively as the thief was subdued. The guards clustered around the boy, two of them holding him by his upper arms, preventing his escape.
The noble pushed back the hood of his cloak. Janis did not recognize the man’s face, but he did recognize him for a fool. He had the haughty, self-important look of the clueless rich. Janis sneered in disapproval, taking a long pull of his drink.
Janis did not hear who gave the order, but he did hear the sound of a mailed fist slamming into the child’s stomach. And he heard the pained cry the blow elicited. Janis slammed his mug down, scowling. He watched as one soldier struck again and again, landing blows on the boy’s chest and head. The thief tried to protect himself, but he was held fast. The soldier showed no signs of letting up.
By now Janis was in a thoroughly foul mood. First the ambitious thief had been caught. Now he was being punished severely, too severely in Janis’ opinion. Janis eyed the soldiers, evaluating them. They weren’t professionals. He could tell. They wouldn’t have fought in the war. They would have stayed home with their arrogant master, guarding his wealth while the kingdom burned. Janis finished the last of his beer and rose suddenly, knocking his chair over and marching towards the cluster of men.
The others were so intent on the thief that they did not notice Janis. As he drew closer, Janis noticed the boy was now covered in angry red welts, with a deep cut under one eye. He wore only a tattered tunic that stretched to just above his knees, belted with a length of rope. His feet were bare and dirt encrusted, his brown hair long and unkempt. The boy raised his head, shaking off another blow and Janis saw his eyes.
The boy’s eyes were bright green, flecked with gold. Intense, intelligent eyes. Eyes that burned with a fevered desperation, and flashed with anger. Janis had only seen those eyes in one other person in all of his life. He told himself he was imagining things, that he was drunk, that there was no reason to help this boy.
But Janis was itching for a fight. And whether or not he had interpreted those fierce eyes accurately, he wanted to save this plucky, clumsy thief.
As the lead soldier drew back his arm for another punch, Janis grabbed hold of his wrist and yanked back, throwing the guard d
Janis did advance though. He started with the two guards pinning the thief’s arms. He jabbed one in the stomach with his right fist, then elbowed the guard in the side of his head, stunning him. The guard fell, his armor crashing against the cobbles. Janis had already moved on though, bringing his booted foot down on the next man’s left instep. The second guard howled and bounced comically on his good leg, stumbling backwards. The thief, now freed, backed away warily.
Janis turned to the remaining guards. The one who had been beating the thief was on his feet again, as well as the three Janis had not yet attacked. The two who had been holding the thief were still down, and would be a little while longer by the look of things.
Janis reached down and scooped up the nobleman’s purse from beside the guard he had stunned. He hesitated, then tossed it to the noble, who barely managed to catch it.
“There’s your gold. Now get out of here.”
The noble spluttered with outrage. “This boy attempted to steal from me! He must be dealt with!”
Janis advanced on the irate man, thrusting his bearded face forward. “I’m aware. But you have your gold back. No harm done. Now, I suggest you get going, or there will be some harm done, and not to the boy.”
“I will have my justice!” the noble spat, glowering.
“If you try, you will have to get through me,” Janis growled. “I don’t take kindly to people like you picking on the less fortunate because you can. The war has made us all desperate. The boy did what he had to.”
“But – ”
Rage slammed through Janis and his right hand shot out, grabbing the noble by his collar and dragging him forward, off balance. All around, swords hissed free of their scabbards.
“If you want to keep your guards I suggest you tell them to lower their weapons,” Janis said mildly.
The noble, as Janis had expected, did exactly the opposite. “Dispatch this barbarian!” he cried. “Destroy this gutter-spawned miscreant!”
Janis thrust the noble away from him so that he fell to the dirt next to the thief. He saw the boy crouch, but had no time to wonder what he was up to. There were four swords on their way, all intent on separating Janis from his head.
Janis ducked, letting the first wave pass over his head in a flurry of steel. Then, he reached beneath his cloak and drew a dagger with his left hand and his sword with his right. Not a short sword, gleaming and new like those of the noble’s guards. This was a long-bladed cavalry sword, heavy, sharp, and christened with the blood of many foes.
Janis slashed the nearest guard across the back of his leg, effectively destroying the fragile joint by severing tendons and ligaments. The man screamed and crumpled, dropping his sword, his blood staining the cobbles. Janis stood erect then and parried two of the questing blades. He gave ground quickly, giving himself room to maneuver. The guards came after him, but they were all in front of him now and more spread out. Janis backed away a few more steps, then abruptly changed tactics and charged.
Two of the guards jumped to one side, trying to get out of the way. The third, their leader, stood to meet Janis, deflecting his quick thrust. Janis’ dagger flashed as he slid past, slashing across his opponent’s sword arm. The guard fell to one knee, cursing, cradling his injured limb. Janis rammed the pommel of his sword into the man’s temple, just to make sure he was out of the fight. The guard’s eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed.
The remaining two guards closed in on Janis from either side, trying to divide his attention. Janis sighed to himself. It was almost too easy. As the guard to Janis’ right lunged forward, thrusting with his blade, Janis turned sideways and dropped his dagger, grabbing the man’s sword arm. Using the charging man’s momentum, Janis rammed the short sword forward, straight into the chest of the remaining guard. The stricken guard stared stupidly at the blade protruding from his chest, then collapsed in a heap. The guard who Janis had manipulated released his sword and stepped back in horror.
Janis stepped towards him and sheathed his sword. He didn’t need it anymore. The guard put up his hands in surrender, but Janis was already moving. His right fist crashed against the guard’s jaw and he joined his comrades on the ground, unconscious, but alive.
Janis turned and looked over the battlefield. All the guards were down, most permanently. He then turned and located the noble who had started this mess. The man was still sprawled on the ground, one arm outstretched to ward Janis off.
“Go.” Janis snarled.
The noble got to his feet and ran off, leaving his guards to fend for themselves. Janis watched contemptuously as the cowardly figure retreated, cloak flapping as he ran. Then, he sheathed his sword, retrieved his dagger, and turned to the thief.
“Are you hurt?”
The boy licked his lips, touched the side of his face gingerly. “Yes.”
“Anything major?”
The thief shook his head.
“Come on,” Janis said. “I think it’s best if we leave.”
The boy stepped back warily. “We?”
Janis smiled. “Don’t be afraid. I’m on your side. That was the boldest bit of attempted thievery I’ve ever seen. And one of the smartest.”
“But I was clumsy and I failed,” the boy replied.
Janis shrugged. “Things like that tend to happen. We think we have it all worked out and then fate throws the whole plan awry with a set of circumstances no one could have predicted.”
The thief nodded. “So . . . what now?”
“You could come with me,” Janis said.
“You’re a soldier,” the thief said, the distaste in his voice obvious.
Janis nodded. “Yes. I’m a soldier. A captain, actually.”
“Then why aren’t you fighting?”
Janis snorted. “The war is over, for a while. I’m assigned here now. To the Academy.” An idea struck Janis, the perfect idea. “If you come with me, you could become a warrior.”
A spark of interest lit those fierce eyes. “I could learn to defend myself? But . . . I’m not much of a fighter.”
“We’ll see about that,” Janis said kindly. “You would have a place to stay, food. And protection.”
That struck a chord in the boy’s mind. Janis could see the gears turning. The three things he had just offered were the three things that were hardest to find in the kingdom right now.
“Deal,” the boy said finally. He reached into the neckline of his tunic. “By the way, I think this rightfully belongs to you.”
Janis looked in astonishment from the grinning, bruised face to the purse of gold the boy held. “You still managed to steal it,” Janis said, shaking his head. “You’re a clever one, kid.” Janis took the purse, poured a few coins into his hand then handed the rest back. “We’ll split it. Sound fair to you?”
“More than fair,” the boy agreed, tucking the purse back into his tunic.
“Do you have a name, lad?” Janis managed to ask.
“Khollo, sir,” the thief said.
“And I’m Janis,” the warrior replied. “Now, let’s get going before the city guard shows up. I don’t want to have to explain this.” Already, one of the downed guards was stirring.
“This way,” Khollo said, turning towards an alley. “Nobody will find us here.”
“Always nice to have a companion who knows his way around,” Janis muttered. “Stick by me Khollo and we’ll come out all right.”
The boy turned and flashed a quick grin, eyes dancing. Looking into them for the second time, Janis confirmed what he had initially suspected. He told himself that this was a good idea, that he wouldn’t live to regret it.
The boy would bear watching, Janis thought with a prickle of unease. If he read the signs right, there was something else at work here. There was more to his new friend than met the eye.
A touch of destiny.
Chapter 1
