Viator (The Viator Chronicles Book 1)

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2015 by Jane Ralston-Brooks

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, events or incidents are products of the author’s imagination and used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is purely coincidental or fictionalized.

  Published by Purple Thistle Publishing

  Cover art and design by Trevor Smith

  www.janeralstonbrooks.com

  www.purplethistlepublishing.com

  Acknowledgments

  My thanks to my husband Roger, who pushed me on and believed in my dreams; to Kathleen Shaputis, whose cheerful encouragement at the Olympia Writers’ Group was a great inspiration; to my daughter Claire Frank for her hours of creative, editorial and objective loving help; to my editor Mimi, the Grammar Chick; to Trevor Smith for the amazing cover art and design; to Rebecca Durkin, who has seen me through this whole process; to friends and family for their encouragement; and to my parents, who continue to gift me with dreams.

  Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.

  Edgar Allan Poe - The Raven

  Prologue

  Late afternoon sunlight shimmered through the birch trees and evergreens, and a dense undergrowth of ferns crowded the trail. Sean quickened his pace. He’d been following for hours through ever more treacherous territory, and he still hadn’t found his charge. Where was that man? A chill breeze from the north rustled through the leaves, and he heard the gurgle of water ahead. Scanning the small stream that cut across his path, he wiped the perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand and searched the far bank. When he saw the telltale tracks and loosened stones, he leapt over the stream and scrambled up the far slope. Broken branches marked the path, and he followed these signs as he ran through the forest.

  The path curved around a tall boulder, and Sean was unable to see ahead. He slowed his pace and slipped a knife from its sheath on his belt. He jogged around the turn and found the right edge of the path sheared off, exposing a high precipice. A short distance beyond the cliff the narrow path widened again and wound down to the forest in the valley below, where it forded a river far ahead. Along that path he could see the figure of a man, and he knew he had found his charge. He breathed a sigh of relief, tucked his knife away, and edged along the bluff until the path widened again. Then he ran full speed, knowing he was on target.

  Brown mud stained Sean’s black pants and jacket from the hours of the long chase. No one had ever run from him for so long. Why this time? Didn’t the man realize Sean was there to help?

  The sun had set and a waxing moon glowed in the sky by the time Sean had reached the valley floor. He shivered from a sudden cold breeze. The hair rose on the back of his neck as he caught the scent of carrion reek, and he slowed and loosened his sword. The man must be close by, but the stench was alarming.

  “Where are you?” Sean called.

  “Here. I’m here,” a man answered from the direction of the river.

  “Wait for me … stay where you are. I can help you.”

  Sean took off as fast as he could, racing along the path. The trail grew wet and slippery as it sloped downhill toward the water. He slid in the mud but caught himself before he tumbled.

  The path was paved with slick stones leading to the bank of the river, and Sean took the wet steps more carefully. Bushes and reeds grew thick, blocking the river from view. When he reached the water’s edge, he saw the rocky beach open out. The river widened in this spot, becoming shallower, allowing for large stones to make a ford across to the opposite shore. But he sensed this roaring river was a border of some kind—once across, it might not be so easy to return. He looked across and groaned. The man he needed to help was on the other side.

  Sean stepped close to the water’s edge and called out, “Come back.”

  The man was already heading into the forest on the opposite shore, but he stopped and turned. He hesitated, and Sean could see doubt and confusion in the man’s eyes.

  “Come back,” Sean shouted again.

  The man looked directly at Sean and took a few steps toward him. He rubbed his hands over his face and through his blond hair.

  “I can’t. Help me,” he called.

  Sean frowned and took another step closer to the river, calling again, “Come here.”

  The man shook his head and pleaded, “Help me.”

  Sean sheathed his sword and stepped out onto the nearest stone in the river. His foot slipped into the icy, rushing water. He tried again, and this time his footing held. He crossed the river from rock to rock slowly, and with great care he finally reached the opposite shore and scrambled up the slippery bank. The moon was high, and the birch trees on this side of the river were dense. Sean stood and looked around.

  “Where are you?”

  “Here.”

  The answer came from just to the left. Sean turned to go that direction when the air grew icy and foul. He almost gagged from the stench, but he walked into the darkness of the forest.

  The shape of a man rose from the ground in front of Sean—an enormous black shadow, cold, dark, and cruel, but so much more—a mortifer. Sean drew his sword.

  “What have you done with the man?” Sean demanded.

  The shadow laughed, a high hollow sound that was eerie in the night air. “Nothing—he is ours.”

  The bushes rustled behind him and Sean whirled with his sword, striking another mortifer as it crept up from the forest. The sword pierced its side, and it fell, rolling in agony. The first mortifer leapt and slammed Sean across his back with its staff throwing him forward. Sean’s sword fell but he caught himself, stumbling forward a few steps.

  He whirled around. It was hard to see well in the darkness under the trees, but his night vision was keen, and he knew he could handle one or two mortifers, even as tired as he was.

  The first mortifer stood nearby—what was it waiting for? It knew Sean didn’t have his sword.

  A blast of icy wind blew through the forest again, and the rotten stench grew overwhelming. Sean gagged, and then he scrambled for his sword.

  A blow from a staff struck him hard across the back again just as he grasped his blade, and he fell to the ground but with his sword still in hand. He leapt up.

  A horde of mortifers stood before him, the flaming ice of their eyes froze him, and he groaned. How many were there? They were countless. They loomed over him, growing taller, and wavered in the breeze like wispy phantoms. But they were all too real. How had they known he was here?

  Where was his charge? Sean cried, “What have you done with him?”

  Again the shadow mocked Sean with its hollow laughter. It pointed to the right, and under the shadows of the dense trees Sean saw the man he was supposed to help—he was standing, waiting. Watching. Sean’s eyes widened. He knew he had been betrayed. This was a trap.

  He had to warn the others of this danger, but a mortifer drew a long sword from its scabbard and attacked. Sean dodged that blow and countered with a swing that severed the shadow’s sword arm. It screamed its rage, and the others, some armed with tall staffs and some with swords, leapt forward. He dodged one but another struck him. They attacked h
im with sword, staff and knife. He destroyed one mortifer after another, but there were always more. He stumbled, and they descended on him, battering him with their staffs, but he rose up again, finding more strength. He swung his own sword to hit one of the shadows in the chest, destroying it. A sword struck him in the shoulder. He was weary, and he was in agony, and still he tried to fight them off. He felt another gash to his back. He was struck in the chest, in the arms, on his back over and over, and he sank to his knees. His clothes were wet with sticky blood.

  The mortifers scoffed at him. “You are ours now, viator.”

  For a moment there was silence in the dark forest.

  A crow cawed as it flew overhead, and Sean looked up.

  He struggled to stand and swung his sword at another mortifer, striking and felling it, its blackness oozing out over the wet forest floor. Another shadow stepped forward and pierced Sean once more with a long knife blade to his chest. He fell to the ground, his face in the dirt, the taste of blood in his mouth.

  The crow landed on the ground nearby, and Sean whispered, “Betrayed.”

  The crow cawed again and flew away.

  Chapter 1

  Erin sipped her champagne and studied the dagger. The copper handle was decorated with intricate swirling designs that were smooth and polished, while the edge of the blade glittered like fire in the lamplight. It rested in an ebony case on a cushion of green silk inside the glass display cabinet. It seemed familiar, from long ago, and she puzzled about where she may have seen it before. She could almost feel it fitting comfortably in her hand.

  The gallery was full of an eclectic group of people, some edgy and modern, while others were dressed in elegant evening clothes and jewelry. Each piece of art on display was lit from several directions in the darkened rooms, casting distorted shadows on the walls and ceilings, the light sometimes catching a person’s face and highlighting it at an odd angle. Most of the people were talking and laughing in groups, and the wood floors and open spaces amplified the sound. Erin turned just as her friend Aleesha sashayed across the room leading a heavy man wearing a creased taupe suit.

  “Erin, you must meet Kenneth.” Aleesha beamed, her slim silver skirt and jacket shimmering in the light.

  Erin smiled at the man. His shaved head was covered by a turquoise blue fedora and diamonds glittered in his ears. He bent forward and kissed both Erin’s cheeks.

  “Aleesha’s told me so much about you and your gallery.” Erin pressed her hand into his.

  Kenneth looked ecstatic. “I’m so thrilled to meet you. Aleesha has told me all about you, too. Welcome to the gallery. What do you think? Look around and tell me. Besides being in the best location in Seattle, I think we’ve been able to put together some of the best collections of any of the galleries in Pioneer Square. Please tell me what you think.”

  “I love it,” she said.

  “Can I get you anything?” he continued, clasping her hand and looking her up and down. “You look gorgeous—so classic. When the music starts be sure to tell me your impressions. I’d be honored if you’d play a song or two.”

  Erin felt her face grow warm as she smiled and tried to answer, but he kept up a stream of comments and questions. He finally paused to take a breath, and she said, “Thank you for inviting me to your exhibit. I’m already enjoying it immensely. I’m sorry, though, I won’t be able to play tonight. But Aleesha tells me you have some excellent musicians to entertain us.”

  Kenneth glanced at Aleesha, a small pout on his face. He turned back to Erin. “Oh, my dear, and I have my grand piano here all ready for you.”

  “I’m sorry,” Erin stammered.

  “Erin hasn’t performed in a couple years,” Aleesha said.

  Kenneth patted her arm. “Well, don’t give it another thought. I can always hope, can’t I? But you’re my guest, dear! Enjoy.”

  He grabbed a couple more glasses of champagne from a nearby tray, handed them to Erin and Aleesha, and when he noticed some new guests enter the gallery, he ran to greet them.

  “He’s a kick,” Erin laughed.

  Aleesha put her hand on Erin’s shoulder and grinned as they both watched him. “Yes. He’s really a dear man. And he’s right—you do look gorgeous. I love that dress on you.”

  “Thanks. It was one of William’s favorites.”

  Erin wore a short, dark blue dress and had pulled her brown hair up into a French twist to show off her pearl earrings. She thought about the last time she had worn the dress—she and William had been celebrating their tenth wedding anniversary. A sob caught in her throat. She took a quick sip of champagne and forced a smile back onto her face.

  She and Aleesha filled a couple of plates with hors d’oeuvres and walked through the rooms, admiring the art and looking at the people. Aleesha knew many of the other guests, and she stopped to chat with them or compare impressions of the art. The musicians soon began to play, and Erin and several other people gathered around them. Piano, fiddle and bodhran accompanied a young woman whose haunting soprano voice gave Erin goosebumps.

  As she listened to the music, Erin glanced around the room and noticed an attractive man who stood alone by the door. He looked familiar. He was stirring his drink and staring at her, so she quickly looked away. A few minutes later she glanced back, and he was still studying her, even as he gulped his drink and set the glass on a tray. Feeling embarrassed, she retreated into the next room where she pretended to examine a dark painting of ancient Celtic shields while she gathered her thoughts. She was sure she had met him before. Blond, blue-eyed, wearing a finely tailored charcoal suit, obviously went to the gym regularly. He was probably around her age. Did he recognize her? Could she have known him in school?

  A man spoke quietly right behind her. “What do you think of the shields? I prefer the next painting—the one with the swords. Seems more proactive.” She turned around, and he was smiling at her, dimples in both cheeks, eyes laughing. She blushed.

  “Aren’t you Erin Holley?”

  She nodded. “Yes …”

  “I thought so. It’s been about two years. I’m Gary Arthur. I was a friend of William’s. I almost didn’t recognize you with your hair up.”

  “Oh, yes. I thought I had met you before.”

  His voice grew quiet and serious, his eyes clouding over. “I was sorry to hear about William. I had just seen him the day before the … accident. It was such a shock. I had left the country when I heard. I felt I should come back, but I couldn’t—I couldn’t get away.” He paused, frowning, and looked down at his hands. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

  Erin was taken aback and shook her head. “No, it’s okay. It would never have occurred to me you should be here.”

  “Really?”

  She smiled at him. “Of course not. I’d only met you a few times. But thank you.”

  He leaned against the wall and sighed. “William was an old friend.” His eyes grew more intense. “And how are you doing? You look great. And the kids—you have two, right?”

  “Right.” She nodded, her head tilted to the side. She studied his face. He wasn’t smiling but his dimples still creased his cheeks. “We’re okay. Matt’s almost twelve now, and Gwen’s seven. They’re really growing up.”

  “Good. And you still live in Anacortes?”

  She nodded. “Still in the old house on Puget Sound.” She paused a moment. “Did you say you saw William the day before the accident?”

  Gary glanced at his watch and looked at the doorway. A line of sweat trickled from his hair beside his ear. He bent his head and nodded. “Just briefly. I’ll never forget what he said that day.” He shook his head. Then he looked back at Erin, his eyes sparkling. “I remember your little house on the water.”

  “We love it there … but what did William say?”

  Gary drew a breath just as a stocky middle-aged man entered the room. His tan trench was dripping, and water ran from his thin gray hair down his thick neck. He wiped his face with a handkerch
ief and frowned at Erin before he glanced at Gary and nodded his head. Gary nodded back, turned to Erin and said, “My business associate’s here. I’ve got to run. We’ve got a meeting.”

  He grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze, then turned and followed the other man out of the room.

  Erin stood still for a moment, staring at the door after they had left. She was surprised and a little shaken—she hadn’t run into someone from William’s past in a long time. What a coincidence they had both been at this gallery tonight.

  She wandered back toward the musicians. The crowd had become quiet as they listened to a slow ballad, and Erin grew more thoughtful. She remembered Gary from the few times they had met. He had come to a couple social events hosted by William’s company. A picnic and a Christmas party. She remembered him playing ball with Matt at the picnic. He had brought a date to the Christmas party—a tall, beautiful woman with long, dark hair.

  She stopped and stood still as a statue, her heart suddenly filled with grief and uncertainty. These memories brought images of William to her mind so clearly—dancing at the Christmas party with the glow of firelight on his face, playing checkers with Matt at the kitchen table, laughing as they ran on the beach together. She missed him so much. And then the day of the accident—she remembered it as if it had just happened, and the pain hit her again like a sharp blow. She hadn’t known William had seen Gary the day before. What did William say to him that long-ago day, something so memorable Gary would never forget it?

  The room was too hot and too loud. She needed to get out. She found Aleesha and convinced her to leave, and they drove the long way home to Anacortes in the wind and rain.

  Chapter 2

  Gravel crunched under the tires as Aleesha turned the car into Erin’s driveway and drove past the apple trees. Wind blew through the branches, scattering the blossoms. As they stopped in front of the little house, Erin leaned over and hugged Aleesha. “Thank you, Leesh. I’m so glad you invited me.” They said goodnight, and as Aleesha drove away, Erin unlocked her front door.