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This is the first chapter from my debut novel

Chapter One

Not many people know how they are going to die. Just as few know when they are going to. He knew he was walking to his death, just not by whose hand. All he knew was he had to keep on walking. A Keeper of Secrets’ path is not pre-determined, only their end destination. A feeling takes over when it’s time to make their way to the end. And this feeling had taken hold just a few moments ago, as he crossed the bridge.
He had found himself at the top of the path that led to the canal. Paused, waiting for what seemed like hours. Like a ship waiting anchored in the ocean, the crew waiting for the captain to give them a new heading. Then without thinking, instinctively he was making his way down the slope toward the water. Each step navigating the slippery brick; the rain that night having made the surface hazardous.
His boots had little grip left, making the journey down even more risky. Where he had once worn sturdy brown lace up walking boots, on his feet were a far flimsier affair. The grip had worn completely from the left one, and the right had a hole on the heel which was prone to letting in the slightest water. His camouflage trousers had the holes that provided evidence at the lack of grip in his footwear. Most of his journey the last two days had been spent falling over due to the weather conditions and his knees had taken the brunt.
The trees overhead had been pummelled by the rain, the leaves on the branches hanging loosely. They dropped on to his head as he walked, getting stuck in his bobbed black hair. He had been walking for several days until the feeling overtook him, his hair matted from lack of washing. What was once a trimmed, tidy goatee was now lost to stubble. A prickly shadow adorning his face, highlighted even more by his pale complexion from lack of sleep.
Like most paths leading toward water, the terrain was mostly all one colour. A dark grey brick work carefully laid; every three bricks a couple of red ones stuck out. Small ledges allowing a safe descent; a lawsuit avoided for the local council. The metal handrail to the left had once been painted in smooth black paint, after years of vandalism and being used as an improvised seat had chipped away at it, exposing the silver metal underneath.
About halfway down the path became a little more difficult to navigate. Low hanging branches caused him to duck, being just short of six feet tall he had gotten used to ducking certain things. Some of the lower branches reached toward the handrail, ghostly fingers trying to grab any passersby. Luckily, he was thin enough to squeeze past them, only a few nicked and clawed at his coat and backpack.
Brushing past the overgrown bushes and weeds that bordered his route, he made it to the bottom. A handful of fresh flowers against the wall; a variety of colours, reds, yellows, and purples to name a few. A sign of respect, a tribute to a young man taken from the world too soon. A dark rainy night, a fox darting across the road. A car swerving to avoid the frightened animal, off the road and through the railings leading to a fall neither he nor the car would survive.
The Keeper of Secrets and the tribute had one thing in common. Neither bore a name here. Unlike him, the driver would be known by someone, friends, and family. For a Keeper of Secrets, life is an isolated one. No family or known associates. No identity. The safest way to keep their secrets is to keep their lives a secret too. When one lives for sometimes a thousand years, not aging begins to ask questions. Most people do not question why someone is sleeping rough over a park for years, even less question who they are. A Jane Doe lying motionless on life support in a hospital bed, known only to a few who’s memories have been altered will draw minimal attention. A monk isolated in a mountain temple find themselves rarely questioned; their life of enlightened solitude taken on face value.
But not all keep the same level of secret. For the more value the secret, the higher dedication to their hiding in plain sight. This Keeper of Secrets had led a nomadic life, passing from town to county, country to continent. It had been this way for millennia, the oldest of the Keepers. As was the way, he has never known the secret he kept only that a secret it must remain.
A moment was spared to pay his respects, a dandelion plucked from nearby placed next to the bunches of flowers. A small sign of respect before he recommenced his journey. His night would end similar to that of the motorist’s night all those years ago. The faded yellow gravel crunched as he turned to face the dark canal, his journey resumed. The wall to his right would be a border to his journey; the graffiti sprayed on the brick a commentary as he made his way.
With the water gently swishing to his left, he made his way forward through the dark. The lighting was limited and sporadic, coming from construction sites and storage yards whose land backed on to the trail. Occasionally the glow from the floodlights would catch some debris in the water, a shopping trolley dumped or a plank of wood the only company for the traveller. The reeds and overgrown weeds between him and the water swaying in the wind waving him on, swaying with encouragement every step he took.
A strong gust of wind caught the Keeper of Secrets in the face as he reached an open space, the wall no longer keeping the elements from him. He pulled up the collar of his coat, a grey waterproof he had owned for years. A few pulled stitches and a couple of holes but would still serve him well now. He reached for the straps of his backpack, a large camping style that he always carried. For the first time that day he took it off, lay it down on the ground and walked away from it.
He knew this was the moment, that his journey had only a few moments remaining. By leaving his bag he was leaving his belongings and his life behind. It did not have much in it. A few items he had accumulated over the years. Those few trinkets, books, leaflets advertising events in the cities he had visited over the years, would give whoever found it a brief and condensed overview of how long he had kept his secret. A secret that would finally be discovered now; at the expense of his life.
He stood now with his back to the water, several metres away from the path on a large patch of grass. In front of him a burnt-out carcass of a car, the make, colour or even model no longer identifiable. The shell silhouetted by the lights from behind the metal fence. Tall floodlights illuminating the slow beginnings of a new housing estate, the wooden frames and eves standing like skeletal spectators waiting to see the end of the Keeper of Secrets’ life.
The air was still, as though even the wind itself was holding its breath. Waiting with bated breath for the final act of a story thousands of years in the making. He stood with eyes closed, his arms down by his sides. Peacefully he waited as though he was waiting for anything other than his death. His breathing was calm and steady, even as he heard the ragged breathing next to his ear.
The breathing he noticed was more like a panting direct in his ear. Whoever was there was his height, maybe slightly taller to be breathing in his ear. A rustle of bushes far to his right drew his attention to there being a third party near. This other presence had not caused the first to move so he presumed they must be together.
He stayed still, eyes closed waiting for the inevitable. Any second one would strike, ending his life. The second presence started snarling and gnashing its teeth. He thought at first that it sounded like a dog. Incoherent noises, as canines do. The first let out a howl, now standing behind the Keeper. He opened his eyes to be faced with a huge silhouette. It must be at least eight feet tall he thought, and not human. He could see wisps of hair around the edge of the shape, or was it fur he thought?
Then he felt the first strike to the back of his knee, piercing like a knife, it had slashed at his skin. He did not even have time to react or let out a sign of pain before the other knee suffered the same. He screamed as he hit the floor, his legs feeling limp. He could feel the blood pouring out of the wounds. Two hands gripped at his wrists as he was hoisted up in front of the large creature. He felt the grip tighten as it let out a howl. A loud, sustained noise that was filled with pride at what it was doing.
The next pair of strikes came simultaneously, striking both arms at the shoulder joint. The wounds deep and to the bone, leaving minimal flesh. His body racked with pain, suspended in the air he could do nothing. His legs and arms now rendered useless; he was expecting the fatal blow any minute.
Would it be to the neck, a swift blow sudden and efficient? Were they to continue this way, like a pair of cats toying with a mouse? It made little difference to him; he had reached the end of his line. He had never really thought about how it would happen, never considered it. Keepers of secrets do not acknowledge their death until it is upon them and accept it. But the pain he was feeling had him begging for it to end.
He found himself being pushed down to his knees, helpless to resist even if he wanted to. Were he to fall either side he would have the movement of a fish splashing to try and get back to water.
The large creature lowered his head toward the Keeper’s face, revealing itself truly for the first time. Fur completely covered its face other than its eyes, a vivid, furious yellow colour. The fur looked grey, but in this light, it was impossible to truly tell the colour. A snarl crept across its face, baring razor-sharp teeth that spread all along its mouth. Its protruding snout, breathing warm air against his face. It took a step back and let out a howl, pulling its long arm back ready to strike.
Underneath each of his eyes was pierced by a long, knife-like claw. That was the last thing he saw as his eyes were ripped from his skull. Blinded and helpless, he fell backwards. He could not distinguish which of them now gripped his head, pushing claws into his mouth. A loud crunch echoed through the air as his jaw was ripped from his head, his teeth and tongue coming with it. The last thing he heard was both creatures howling.
And just like that, this Keeper of Secrets’ journey had ended!