20. Keelan

Chapter 20

Keelan

I t had already been a long day. Finding the kidnap victims, learning of their magical plight, sifting through the expanded crime scene that now included the basement where the trio had been held—and tortured.

A few of us had even traveled across town to revisit Albrecht’s widow. Something about our initial conversation nagged at the back of my mind, but I couldn’t place what it was. Even after our second conversation, my intuition’s discomfort remained yet another mystery.

If I’d had time to stop and think throughout the day, I might’ve been overwhelmed. As it was, I was exhausted and tired of thinking about those who’d been kidnapped, violated, or had their throats slashed.

Being a Guardsman carried so much more weight than I’d expected.

Atikus sat across the table cradling a mug filled with hot mulled wine. He’d insisted on returning to the Guard Compound with me and hadn’t left my side since. Merik and his team, as well as Lieutenant Grieve, had spent the last hour with us, reviewing every detail and step, hoping to uncover some clue we’d all missed.

We’d come up with nothing.

“Was Albrecht an accountant with an Enchanted item and a Gift for seeing patterns, or was he something altogether different? We talked a lot about what he did but never discussed what he was.”

Atikus set his mug on the table and steepled his fingers, his eyes staring at some distant point on the wall behind me as he thought.

“That is a good question, my boy, a very good question.” The old Mage chewed on the inside of his cheek, creating a dimple on one side of his face that almost made me laugh. “What if he was a Mage?”

“A Mage? That sounds like a stretch, even for you.” My head cocked. “Besides, if he’d been a Mage, wouldn’t you have known him? You’ve been a member of Melucia’s guild for a thousand years.”

Atikus’s laugh rumbled across the table and deep into my chest.

“I am not so old, thank you very much.”

My Gift stirred at that statement, but Atikus’s age wasn’t a pressing topic. Albrecht’s true identity was.

“All right, just for fun, let’s assume he was a Mage. If none of the Melucian Mages knew him, that means he was a foreign Mage. That doesn’t line up with the widow’s story. According to her, they’ve lived here for, what, twenty or thirty years?”

Atikus nodded. “But before that time?”

“He would’ve been too young. The man was forty-two when killed.”

“You forget how Mages age, son. He could have been far older than he appeared, older than our records indicate.”

Something in that made me want to ask about Atikus’s own age, especially after my bees had decided to wake; but again, I let it pass.

“So, where could he be from? And what difference does it make?” I asked.

Atikus kept his fingers steepled but began tapping their tips together in rapid succession. “The small nations to our east have guilds, but only a few members within each. The islands do not organize as we do. Their Mages are more shamans, acting individually rather than in a collective.”

“That leaves the Kingdom.”

Atikus nodded. “The Kingdom.”

“Which would explain the painting and Albrecht’s insistence that their holiday be to visit the Spires.” I mulled over that a moment, then asked, “Do you think he was planning to return home? Was the holiday a ruse to escape back across the border?”

Atikus dropped his hands to the table, where they again cradled his mug.

“Escape. That makes it sound like he was some sort of prisoner fleeing captivity.”

“Or a spy.”

Our eyes locked. The air in the room grew still and cold.

I knew, deep in my gut, we were near the truth.

“Dear Spirits, the Kingdom’s magical line has been dying out,” Atikus said. “It is a closely held secret known only to the guilds and the Triad.”

“Which would explain why they might want to study how our Gifts continue to thrive.”

He nodded as disgust twisted his features. “To spy is one thing, but to invade a person as Albrecht did with those poor people . . .”

Neither of us could meet the other’s gaze. The horror in Kieran’s eyes, the terror that filled those of the women, tore at my soul. What Albrecht had done was not of the flesh but was rape, all the same.

“The Triad must know of this,” Atikus said, standing so suddenly his chair slammed against the stone wall behind him. “I will—”

The door burst open, and Uncle Ferg ran into the room. Sweat beaded his chubby face and soaked through his robe. Panic filled his eyes.

“Fergus?” Atikus held out a hand to steady his friend. “What is wrong? What happened?”

“It’s Declan.” His eyes darted from Atikus to me, then back. “He’s gone!”

“Gone?” I asked, getting to my feet. “What do you mean ‘gone’?”

“His chambers are empty, his clothes and everything . . . they’re gone.” Fergus was out of breath and near tears. Atikus gripped his arm and helped him settle into a chair.

“Could he have—”

“He left the guild for good.” Fergus shook his head. “He left a note for each of you.”

Fergus reached into his robe and produced two folded pieces of paper, one with my name and the other Atikus’s. His hand shook as he slid mine across the table toward me. Atikus plucked his out of the Mage’s hand before he could set it down.

I stared as though the parchment were a serpent about to strike.

I couldn’t look.

I couldn’t see.

I didn’t want to know.

Atikus unfolded the page and read aloud:

Atikus,

I’m sorry to say goodbye like this, but you were busy, and there was no time. I hardly know how to say goodbye. The idea of looking into your eyes to do so is more than I could bear.

A Ranger came today. He spoke of duty and service. He spoke of a higher calling and protecting others. He spoke of so many things.

I never thought I would matter.

How could anyone without a Gift make a difference?

This is my chance, Atikus. This is my path. I just know it.

Keelan will be angry. He might hate me for the rest of our lives. I think he already hates me. At least, he pities me, and that might be worse. I can’t stand how he looks at me now, how he knows I will never be close to the man he is. I hate how I feel when I look at him.

Becoming a Ranger is my hope.

It’s my opportunity to help other people and do something important.

Take care of Keelan for me? He needs you more than he would ever admit. He may be big and strong, but his head is thicker than a hundred-year oak.

Please understand, and don’t be upset.

You have been the father I never had.

I love you.

I always will.

Declan

Atikus stared as though the writing might come to life and fly off the page. He couldn’t move. His lip quivered, and his hand shook. Color drained from his cheeks. I’d never seen the man so shaken.

Finally, an eternity later, he looked up and motioned to the folded note that sat on the table an arm’s length away from where I sat.

“You need to read yours, Keelan, right now.” The steel in Atikus’s voice vied with the obvious emotions threatening to pour out of him.

I reached a hand out but hesitated.

What had Declan done?

This wasn’t some random victim of a crime I was investigating. It wasn’t a distant relative or friend from my past. This was my baby brother, the puffy-haired little boy I’d cradled in my arms when he’d learned we would never see our parents again. This was the rambunctious rascal who kept me—and all the Mages—on our toes with one prank or joke after another.

This was my brother.

He was more than a sibling. He was part of me.

What had he done?

My fingers gripped the page. With my other hand, I grasped the parchment and unfolded it. My lips moved as I read, but no sound escaped. Atikus would have to read the words for himself.

Keelan,

My brother.

Where do I even begin?

To say I’ve been lost is to say the sun shines overhead. You’ve known it. Atikus knows it. Hells, everyone knows it.

I think I was the last to truly understand just how lost I’ve become.

So many things happened over the past few years, so many things—you wouldn’t understand.

I wish I could say I’ve grown or grown up, whatever I’m supposed to be doing here, but I don’t think I have. The only thing that’s grown is my own confusion. Confusion over who I am. Over who I should be. Over who I even want to be.

I just don’t know anymore. Spirits, I don’t know anything anymore.

More than anything, I miss us.

I miss our closeness, how we used to talk about everything, how I knew, no matter what, a chat between us would end with me in your arms and everything being okay.

When did we lose that?

When did we fall apart?

Spirits, I’ve tried to figure that out . . . so many times.

We were so close.

I guess it doesn’t really matter now. Maybe it never did, in the grand scheme of things. You have your life, your purpose, your ambition.

I have . . . I’m searching for mine.

I think I found what I’m supposed to do next. Maybe I’m making a big mistake and will need saving again, but it would be you who saves me this time. I’ll be far out of your arms’ reach.

If I’m right, I might’ve discovered who I’m supposed to become.

At least, I think I have.

I hope I have.

There are so many things I want to say to you, but there is a Ranger at the door, and he’s scowling. He’s kind of scary, kind of like you when you put that cloak around your shoulders.

I have to go.

As much as I hate you sometimes, I love you, too.

Don’t be so stubborn. Let people help you.

And for the love of the gods and all that is holy, stop trying to protect everyone. It’s impossible, and it makes you look desperate.

I’m leaving now. I don’t know when I’ll see you again.

If I never said it, you’ve been a great big brother.

Declan

WAIT . . . Don't go yet . . . Your adventure continues in An Archer's Awakening . Please enjoy a free sample of the first three chapters on the pages that follow.