The Keeper's Flame (A Pandoran Novel, #2) Read online

  The Keeper's Flame

  By Barbara Kloss

  Copyright 2012 Barbara Kloss

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover art by Ben Kloss

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  For my best friend, Ben, who kept the spark ignited.

  I love you.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1 – Voices in the Night

  Chapter 2 – The Dark Rider

  Chapter 3 – My Dad, the Prince

  Chapter 4 – Fleck

  Chapter 5 – Promises Kept

  Chapter 6 – Escape

  Chapter 7 – Danton

  Chapter 8 – Blood Ants

  Chapter 9 – The Grand Ball

  Chapter 10 – Alex

  Chapter 11 – Desperate Measures

  Chapter 12 – Swapping Serum

  Chapter 13 – A Worthy Disguise

  Chapter 14 – The Keeper's Flame

  Chapter 15 – From Bad to Worse

  Chapter 16 – The First Competition

  Chapter 17 – Change of Plans

  Chapter 18 – The Wall

  Chapter 19 – The Non-Directional

  Chapter 20 – Vera

  Chapter 21 – Identities

  Chapter 22 – The Shadowguard

  Chapter 23 – Hell's Peak

  Chapter 24 – Betrayal

  Chapter 25 – An Unexpected Farewell

  Chapter 26 – Hope

  Chapter 27 – A Secret Mission

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Voices in the Night

  “Lady!” whispered a little voice.

  My eyes fluttered open to the dark.

  “Lady, wake up!” said the little voice again, more frantic this time.

  Small, yet firm hands gripped my shoulder and shook it. With a soft moan, I rolled to my side and the hands let go. I could just make out his slight silhouette in the dark. I reached out and grabbed his little hand. Poor thing; he was trembling.

  “Bad dreams again?” I yawned.

  Fleck shook his head.

  “No?” I propped myself up on my elbow. My eyes were beginning to adjust and I could now see two glittering eyes. I squeezed his hand. “What is it then?”

  He gulped. “I…hear voices.”

  “In the hall?”

  He shook his head again and his bottom lip trembled.

  “Where?” I asked.

  “The closet.”

  “You’re sure?”

  He answered with an exaggerated nod. Fleck had been having nightmares ever since we’d arrived here, but I’d never seen him so shaken by them before.

  “Want to get the light?” I asked, but before the words were even out of my mouth, a flame materialized on my bedside candle.

  Fleck was whiter than my sheets and his hair was matted to his forehead. I brushed his hair back; he was burning up. “Hmm,” I said, “let’s go have a look.”

  I wrapped my robe around myself, slipped into my slippers, and we stepped out into a dark corridor.

  It was sometime between the hours when the day is in limbo, waiting for tomorrow. Everyone, and everything, was sleeping. Even the torches were nodding off, flames struggling to burn. The castle was menacing at night, like a great tomb, hiding centuries of secrets that felt safe to come forth once the living were asleep. And the secrets in this world, I’d come to realize, were never of the fortuitous kind.

  Fleck’s little hand was sweaty in mine as we padded down the cold, dark hall. His room was in a tower not far from me, but nearer to the heart of the castle. My grandfather, the king, liked to keep him close.

  Right before the door to Stefan’s room, we turned down a narrow corridor, wound up the spiral stone staircase, and reached his small, wooden door.

  I turned to face Fleck, crouching beside him. His eyes were huge and frightened and his knobby legs were shaking so badly that I was surprised he could still stand. “Would you like to wait out here?” I asked.

  He bit his lip and shook his head.

  I held his gaze a moment before pressing my hand on the door. It opened with a loud creeeeeak, and the light from our candle diffused into the room.

  Fleck’s room was always tidy, not because he kept it so, but because he didn’t own much to clutter it. He had a simple wooden desk and a simple wooden dresser, but his simple wooden bed was a disaster. The blankets were in a tangled heap on the floor, and the pillows were lying at odd angles on the opposite end of his bed. The window beside his bed hung open, his curtains fluttering in the gentle breeze. Directly across from his bed, on the opposite wall, was the door to his closet.

  I looked back at Fleck, who gulped loudly. “Wait here,” I said.

  He shook his head and squeezed my hand. He was trying so hard not to be afraid.

  I squeezed his hand back. “Please? I need someone to stand guard and make sure no one’s coming.”

  Fleck hesitated a moment and finally nodded. I smiled. “Thanks. Now, let’s see what dares disturb your slumber.” I dropped my voice low, and Fleck grinned. Some of the color was already coming back into his white cheeks.

  The boards creaked beneath my feet as I crossed the room. I placed my hand on the doorknob—felt a rush of Fleck’s anxiety—and jerked the door open.

  Nothing.

  Just a small, empty square with two little cloaks hanging side by side. I scoured the floorboards, pressed my hand along the walls, patted down the cloaks, and once I’d searched every inch of the closet, I turned around and dusted my hands. “Whatever it was, I think you scared it away. They probably forgot whose room this was.” I grinned.

  Fleck seemed to expand a little and took a shaky step into the room. His eyes watched the closet as if at any moment it would spring to life, and, when he was thus satisfied, he looked up at me and grinned his toothy grin.

  I closed the door to his closet, picked up the heap of blankets from the floor and arranged them on his bed. I sat, patting the spot beside me. Fleck bounded to my side and leapt on the bed.

  “Think you’ll be able to sleep now?” I asked.

  He glanced at the closet and looked back at me. “I think so.”

  I arranged his pillows and sighed. “I know. I don’t like this place either. It’s too cold.”

  Fleck’s eyes widened. “You mean you don’t have winter where you’re from?”

  I smiled, ruffling his hair. “No, we had winter, but we had better ways to keep warm. Like a heater.”

  Fleck’s brow puckered. “What’s a heater?”

  Funny, I guess he wouldn’t know what that was. “Well, it’s—”

  A gust of wind ripped through the window, stealing the flame from my candle, and the room went dark. There was a chill to the air, one that turned my bones cold and froze my breath.

  I didn’t like the winter here. Like everything else in this world, it had a spirit and it was a foreboding one. “Fleck, the candle.” I tried to keep my voice even as I shut the window.

  The candle flickered to life. Fleck’s eyes lifted to mine and I thought they’d tremble, too, if they could.

  “There, that’s better.” I forced a smile as I grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. “That wind is so loud, no wonder you can’t sleep.”

  He didn’t look convinced, and his eyes mistrustfully moved back to his closet. I couldn’t leave him here tonight,
not all by himself. But he couldn’t stay with me.

  “I have an idea,” I said. “Let’s see what Stefan’s doing.”

  Fleck swallowed. “Sleeping?”

  I held my hand out to him. “Sleeping is overrated. Come on.”

  With one last glance at his closet, he slipped off the bed and bolted into the hall. I took one last look around his room and started pulling the door closed, but something made me pause—a slight shift in the air.

  I heard them, then.

  Whispers. Soft and low, fading in and out like a dream. Beckoning and pleading and…unearthly.

  My skin crawled as I shut the door and spun around. Fleck was watching me. “You heard them, too.”

  I took a deep breath and gripped his hand. We were down the steps and at Stefan’s door in no time. I knocked firmly and quietly, so as not to wake anyone else.

  No answer.

  I glanced down into Fleck’s frightened eyes and I knocked again. “Stef!” I whispered. “It’s me, open up!”

  There was fumbling on the other side, a few muffled words, and his door creaked open. Stefan’s golden hair stuck out all over the place and his robe had been haphazardly thrown over his body. He squinted at the candle and used his hand to block the light.

  “D, do you have any idea what time it is?” he moaned.

  “No, actually.” I pushed his door open and dragged Fleck into his room after me.

  Stefan grumbled something behind me and closed the door. A few candles in his room suddenly sparked to life. His arms were folded over his chest as he tried to look mad but couldn’t stop yawning.

  “I’ve got a favor to ask,” I said.

  “Couldn’t it wait un—” his word was broken with a yawn “—until tomorrow?”

  I stared hard at him. “No.”

  He eyed me a moment and then noticed Fleck, who had positioned half of himself behind my legs. When Stefan looked back at me, his frustration had evaporated.

  “There’s something in Fleck’s room,” I said.

  “What do you mean something?”

  “Just what I said, something. I don’t know. I couldn’t find anything, but I—we heard whispers.”

  “Are you sure this can’t wait until morning?” Stefan yawned and scratched his head.

  I folded my arms.

  Stefan looked between Fleck and me and finally sighed. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  He grabbed his baldric off a small table and left.

  Fleck and I waited on his couch, watching the fire Fleck had created. It didn’t matter how close I sat to fires here; I could never get warm. The air was too cold and there was too much extra space.

  It wasn’t long before Stefan returned and tossed his baldric aside. “All’s clear.”

  “You didn’t hear anything?” I asked.

  He shook his head.

  “Did you even listen?”

  “Daria.” He rolled his eyes. “That room is as quiet as a morgue.”

  Fleck trembled beside me, and I made a face at Stefan.

  “Er, I mean,” Stefan stammered, “sorry, but honestly I didn’t see anything.”

  I continued to give Stefan “The Look,” and he promptly joined us by the fire and took a seat. Fleck kept shaking beside me and tried to stop himself by holding his knees, but they kept banging into each other.

  “Does Master Antoni know?” Stefan asked.

  Master Antoni had been working with Fleck ever since we’d arrived at the castle and was the only guild member I trusted. I shook my head. “This is the first time it’s happened—right?” I turned to Fleck.

  Fleck bit his lip as he nodded.

  Stefan looked thoughtful. “I will say,” his voice turned gentle, “that room is awfully cold. Too cold.” He looked at Fleck. “I think you should stay here for now, until I convince Father to find something more appropriate. You’ll catch cold up there.”

  The gleam returned to Fleck’s eyes, and he grinned.

  “You’ll have to sleep on the couch, though; will that be all right?” Stefan asked.

  Fleck nodded, beaming.

  “Great, then we can all”—he looked pointedly at me—“go to bed.”

  I wrapped my arms around Fleck and squeezed him goodnight. He whispered “Thanks, lady” into my ear and then plopped back on the couch and shut his eyes. I pulled a blanket from Stefan’s dresser, laid it gently over Fleck, and Stefan escorted me to the door.

  “You really heard something up there?” he whispered.

  I glanced past him at Fleck, who was already talking in his sleep, and I nodded. “Not at first, but when we were leaving. Just whispers, but I don’t know where they were coming from.”

  Stefan looked vexed and it quickly disappeared into a yawn.

  I squeezed his shoulder. “Thanks, Stef. I don’t want him going back there, not until I figure out what that was.”

  “No pro—” he covered his yawn “—problem.”

  “See you soon.” I grinned. “Night.”

  “Night.”

  He closed the door.

  The shadows in the hall had softened. Morning would be here soon. I took one last glance down the dark hall that led to Fleck’s room, and as I walked away, I heard the faintest whispers before they faded into silence.

  Chapter 2

  The Dark Rider

  A dagger sank into the tree, inches from my face.

  I sucked in a cold, sharp breath.

  The hilt vibrated from sheer impact as a bead of sweat slid down my temple. That had been close—too close. If I didn’t snap out of it soon, I’d be skewered.

  I looked back.

  He was poised, crouched and lethal, waiting for my next move. Wanting my next move.

  And he was going to get it.

  I flexed my fingers around my daggers, adjusting my grip, but right as I pulled back to strike, he vanished. I skidded to a halt and whipped my head around.

  Where are you, you little punk?

  I wiped my eyes, straining to focus, but my vision blurred into a colorful haze and the world around me began tilting on its axis…or was that me?

  A shadow dropped from a branch above and something sharp jarred into my side. I fell smack on my stomach, knocking all the air out of my lungs.

  Stefan stood over me, gloating.

  “No—” I heaved “—fair.” I held my stomach as I staggered to my feet, struggling to breathe. Stefan extended his hand to help, but I refused. “You used—” gasp “—magic.”

  Stefan dropped his hand. “A real opponent won’t refrain from using magic just because you can’t.”

  “I know, but—” Another heave.

  “No ‘buts’ about it, D. You can’t do magic and everyone else can. Learn to work around it.”

  Magic.

  That little, innocent word had become the bane of my existence. It was a poison that lingered in the air, killing me slowly with every breath. There was no running from it—it was everywhere, in everything. The people depended on it, the nobles worshipped it, and without it, you were no one—nothing.

  Without it, you were helpless.

  It was what had separated me from every other person in this world, as if being the granddaughter of a slightly tyrannical king wasn’t separation enough. My grandfather, King Darius Regius, was about as well liked as cancer. And even if they’d excused that biological misfortune, Gaia had decided to finish the job by taking away any ability I’d had to do magic.

  I didn’t understand it. I’d been able to do magic when I’d first entered this world— almost six months ago. Without it, I would’ve died, but ever since my dad and the Del Contes had brought me back to the castle, I hadn’t been able to do a thing. There was this giant void; I’d reach out with my mind and my senses would brush against the fringe, but I could get no further. Like there was an invisible wall around me, preventing me from connecting to it, to anything. I couldn’t even get a candle to light, which was slightly i
rritating in a world without matches and electricity.

  “Again.” Stefan stood before me with his sword extended.

  My breathing had calmed, but now all the trees were starting to divide. I blinked, and they merged again.

  You need to get more sleep, genius.

  Stefan’s gaze was steady, and I found myself noticing how similar his eyes were to my—our—dad’s. A blue that was somehow calm and fierce, comforting and severe, and without that balance, without the warmth and gentility, it would be like looking at two shards of ice. Like looking into the eyes of my grandfather, the king.

  “You know you can’t keep him here forever.” Stefan lunged.

  I deflected and said nothing.

  “I’m serious,” he continued. “He doesn’t belong here, D. He’s too dangerous—”

  “Dangerous?” I said through clenched teeth, ducking from his jab. “Don’t be an idiot. You’re just repeating what everyone else has said.” Clank. “Make up your own mind for once.”

  “Everyone else is right,” he said.

  I stopped fighting and glared at him. “You didn’t tell the king about last night, did you?”

  He clenched his jaw. “No.”

  I challenged his gaze; he was telling the truth.

  The king had kept keen eyes on Fleck ever since I’d brought him here. Fleck was a Daloren, trademarked by the silver flecks in his eyes, and apparently being a Daloren gave you a sans pareil bond to the wisdom of Gaia, whatever that meant. Regardless, the king had been impatiently waiting for these supposed powers to show themselves in Fleck, and when I’d asked the king why, I’d never gotten a straight answer. Whatever the king’s reasons, it frightened Fleck to tears, which was reason enough for me.

  “Maybe if you win the games—” I jumped away from his strike “—you can help Fleck.”

  The games.

  For the past few months, each of Gaia’s six territories had held local tournaments to pick the best fighter to represent them in this year’s games. The festival games were all anyone had been talking about, because the winner of the games this year would inherit an unusual prize: Lordship over the seventh territory, Pendel—the only territory without a ruler. With all seven lords in place, and the power distributed as it had been intended centuries ago, it meant one thing: King Darius might very well lose his throne.