A Time of Darkness (The Circle of Talia) (18 page)

Bronwyn approached her corner of the green-carpeted room, sat on the floor, and ran her fingers along the spines of each dusty book on the bottom shelf. When she stretched her neck out by tipping her head back, she despaired at ever finding the right book: a wall of tomes rose to the ceiling—shelf upon shelf of red, green, black, orange, blue, engraved with gold, silver, sometimes black. Millions of words, stories, spells, histories
, and futures—Bronwyn marveled at how so many worlds could be condensed into one room.

Trying to ignore the feeling of being overwhelmed, she leaned close and began what she hoped wouldn’t be a fruitless search. Bronwyn could practically feel the gormons’ hot breath on the back of her neck. She read as fast as she could.

***

Arcon leaned back in his chair, arms slumped by his side. If someone had told him how many books had the word “Almanac” in their titles, he never would have believed them. He had skimmed over one-hundred books using Second Realm magic. He envisaged the words
amulet
,
gormon,
and
activation
. The power highlighted each word with a yellow glow to make them easy to find, but he still had to leaf through every page of every book and read sentence after sentence wherever the highlighting occurred. If he ever wanted to cast a spell to make a gormon itchy, a burnt meal taste good (which would come in handy considering his culinary skills), or make an amulet for casting fertility over a flock of sheep, he was set—but he had yet to find the book he needed.

He rubbed the back of his aching neck. “What? Tired already?” Avruellen stood next to him with an armful of volumes. She dropped them onto the table, the thump startling Blayke and Bronwyn out of their searching trances. “I think we should have a break. We’ve forgotten about lunch, and I’m sure it’s almost time for dinner. We won’t last long if we don’t eat.”

She placed an encouraging hand on Arcon’s arm.

“Yes, you’re right, but we’re really running out of time. We only have until tomorrow night.” Adrenalin shot through his stomach as he considered the consequences of failing. He swallowed.

Before Arcon could refuse the break, Fiora swept in and announced dinner was being served in half an hour. “I’ve had baths drawn for the ladies; the men will have to wait until after dinner to clean up. I hope that’s okay.”

Avruellen nodded. “Thank you, Fiora. I’m sure the men don’t mind being dirty; I, on the other hand, would love to be free of this oily coating of dust. Come on, Bronwyn.”

Bronwyn climbed down from the ladder where she was inspecting the sixth-level shelf, brushed the dust off her pants and followed Avruellen out.

Arcon rose and called to Phantom who had been preening himself while perched on one of the beams, two stories above. The owl swooped down and alighted on Arcon’s shoulder.

Do you think we’ll make it
? asked the creatura.

Arcon, afraid to answer, shrugged. “
I think we have a long night ahead.”

We? You mean you have a long night ahead. I’m going outside to catch some mice; all this waiting has made me quite peckish
.

Blayke, who had also dusted himself off, joined the conversation. “
So that’s where that word comes from.”

Which word
? asked Phantom.

“
Peckish. Birds get peckish, as in they get hungry enough to peck for food. If you say it enough, it sounds weird. Peckish, peckish, peckish.”

“
Will you shut up, Blayke? And that was a rhetorical question, in case you were wondering. Gods, now I have two idiots to put up with.”

Hey, old man, who are you calling an idiot? I’m wiser than you, or hadn’t you heard
? Phantom thudded a wing into Arcon’s ear.

“
All right, all right. Go easy. That’s no way to treat an old man.” Arcon winked. “Come on, let’s go and eat.”

***

Bronwyn, sick of watching Blayke and Corrille fawn all over each other at dinner, ate quickly and excused herself by saying she wanted to keep sorting through books. When she entered the hushed library, she didn’t notice she had company. Reaching her section, she was about to climb the ladder-on-wheels and looked up to see a brown-robed person standing on the rungs. She was relieved to see he was wearing trousers underneath the robe. “So that’s what monks wear under their dresses.”

“Only on a work
day. You’re lucky you didn’t get me on a feast day.” The dark-haired acolyte looked down at Bronwyn and grinned.

“So, what are you doing in here?”

“Fiora asked me to help. She said it’s urgent and if you don’t find what you need, we’ll all be dead before too long.”

“Wow. She’s not into subtlety, is she?”

“Not really. I should be able to speed things up—I’ve been here for five years, and I’ve read a few of these books. I think I can narrow it down a bit.”

Bronwyn looked around the room at the thousands of books. “I hope you’re a fast reader; there’s a lot of books here.”

“There was one in particular I think would help. It may not be the book you have to have, but I think it sheds some light on what’s going on. Give me a minute and I’ll get it.” He pulled the ladder along by grabbing the shelves and dragging it across its tracks. After checking a few covers, he said, “Here it is.”

The book he grabbed had a linen cover, woven with threads of gold and fawn. He scrambled down awkwardly with the large volume and carried it to the table. “
A Complete History of the Realms
. It’s got some interesting background on the gormons and what caused the war in the first place. Some here say it’s true—others say it’s myth.”

“And what do you believe?” Arcon had quietly entered, his eyes shining in the subdued torchlight, bright with a hope Bronwyn hadn’t seen for a while.

“I believe it’s true.”

“What’s your name, lad?”

“Toran, sir.”

“Well, Toran, let me have a read of this book:
A Complete History of the Realms
. I would have thought that would be one of a many-volume set. How will I find what I need in here?” Arcon ran a forefinger over the course surface.

“I think you’ll find it’s a special book. Everything you want to know about the history of Talia is in there. We’re not allowed to talk about it to outsiders, except you of course. It’s a book that would, what’s the right word …
upset
a few people, and maybe some dragons too. This book could start wars.”

“If it has everything you say it does, I wouldn’t debate that.” Arcon cautiously opened the cover, not sure what to expect. Phantom, sensing his partner’s tension, flew in through one of the windows, and the realmist automatically put his arm up so the owl could land.

Bronwyn, Arcon, and Phantom crowded around the weighty tome. The front page declared
A Complete History of the Realms, commenced three centuries after the Gormon War.
“That’s unusual,” said Bronwyn. “That sounds like it hasn’t been finished, but that’s impossible.”

“Just wait and see,” said Toran, his sapphire-blue eyes meeting hers, lingering longer than necessary. Arcon turned to page one and saw the story started some five-thousand years before the Gormon
War. He quickly read the page and flicked it over. “This doesn’t match up!” he declared. “We’ve barely had an introduction and now we’ve jumped ten years.”

“Let me show you.” Toran stood next to Arcon, turned back to the first page, and placed his finger on the bottom of the page. He traced his finger up the page and the words followed.

“What in the Third Realm? You didn’t use any power. How did you do that?” Arcon bent over until his nose almost touched the paper. “That’s incredible. Okay; leave me to it. I have a lot of reading to do.” He straightened and looked at the youngsters. “I need you to find the other book. As interesting as this one is, it won’t save us if we can’t activate those damn amulets tomorrow night. We’re almost out of time.”

Bronwyn hurried back to her ladder, a mix of excitement and dread warring in her mind. What kind of a book did that? She had never seen anything like it—and without any power. She looked at Toran, who had begun searching on the opposite wall. His knowledge had impressed her, not to mention his to-die-for eyes. When Avruellen and Blayke entered the room and exclaimed over Arcon’s new book, Bronwyn realized she was daydreaming. With a determination born of desperation, she diligently combed the shelves. Time was in short supply.

***

Bronwyn trudged another armload of books to Arcon’s newly named
table of doom
. The pile of books to read depressed them—the reality was that they were probably going to end up on the wrong side of their deadline without the information they needed. This table held their fate on its four sturdy legs. As Bronwyn dumped the books, creating a new pile, Arcon exclaimed, “No! Are you kidding? Dragons’ bollocks. This can’t be true. Avruellen, come and look at this.” He quickly pushed his chair back and made room for his sister to sit.

Avruellen read. Her hand came to her open mouth and through it, she spoke the muffled words, “Oh, gods. I can’t believe it.” She looked at Arcon, their expressions of shock mirroring each other.

“What is it?” asked Bronwyn. The kerfuffle had enticed Blayke and Toran to the table.

“Where’s Sinjenasta?” Arcon asked.

“I don’t know. I’ll call him.” Bronwyn called to her creatura, and within two minutes, he padded through the door.

This better be good: I was asleep
.

In his agitation, Arcon spoke out loud. “Is this true? Are the gormons and dragons related? Is Drakon their god too?”

Sinjenasta stared past the realmist for a moment and drew a breath.
Yes
.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

I was oath-bound by Drakon not to say. It doesn’t really change anything
.

“It may not change anything, but it may give us an advantage, for the gods’ sakes! Why did he cast them out? What in the Third Realm happened?”

Blayke, thinking this was information that needed to be kept quiet, dipped into the Second Realm and shielded the library. “Thank you, Blayke,” said Avruellen.

“Well, panther, tell us. Now!” Arcon growled, doing nothing to hide his anger.

“Don’t get angry at Sinje—it’s not his fault.” Bronwyn stood by her creatura, putting a hand on the back of his neck.

Arcon treated her to his angry glare before turning it back on the panther. “It may not be your fault, but you’re supposed to be on our side, aren’t you?”

Drakon is on Drakon’s side, and I was sent here to represent him. He wants what’s best for his precious dragons. You want to know why the gormons were cast out? Drakon preferred his dragons. He created the gormons first and after a while he designed, for want of a better word, the dragons. They were his artistic achievement. The gormons were ugly, less refined
.

He started by refusing to answer their prayers; then he would put obstacles in their way, challenges. He would play the dragons off their gormon brothers—like when a parent plays one child against another. Eventually the gormons, tortured from many years of trying to gain favour from their god, rebelled. They enslaved whatever dragons they could catch and treated them abhorrently. Rejected by their god and goaded by hundreds of years of mistreatment, they set out to destroy the dragons and the world Drakon had created
.

Drakon lied to the other gods about why he needed the gormons banished from Talia. It took over a thousand years to groom the humans and dragons to fight back, but when they did, they succeeded, with Drakon’s help, to banish the gormons to the Third Realm. When the other gods learned the truth of how they had been used, they refused to have anything to do with The First Realm, or Talia, again. As far as your gods are concerned, they won’t help you because they’ll be helping Drakon. We’re on our own
.

They stood there: Bronwyn, Blayke (with Fang peeking out of his pocket), Flux, Avruellen, and Arcon. Phantom perched on a chair, staring at Sinjenasta, silent. The news beat against their sanity like a trapped bird against a window. Their war was a lie, their existence a lie. The humans had been created to help rid Talia of the gormons
, who had every right to be there. Toran, who didn’t know how to listen to mind speak, broke, what was for him, a long silence. “Who died? Seriously, what’s wrong? Have you all gone into some kind of trance? Is this normal with realmists?”

He looked from one person to another, eyebrows drawn down in worry.

“Have you read this book, lad?” Arcon asked.

“Some of it.”

“Do you remember the part about the gormons being related to the dragons and Drakon banishing them from Talia because he grew tired of them?”

“I didn’t read all of it. Is it true?” Arcon nodded.

“So now what do we do?” Blayke asked his uncle.

Arcon shook his head. “Sinjenasta’s right. As horrific as this is, it changes nothing. If the gormons win, we die, and even if they have every right to be here, I can’t
lie down and die without a fight, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to see those I love die painful, horrific deaths. This is a lot to process. For now, we keep looking for that book.” Phantom hooted in support, and they returned, albeit in a daze, to their task.