Read Lord of the Libraries Online

Authors: Mel Odom

Tags: #Fantasy, #S&S

Lord of the Libraries (2 page)

BOOK: Lord of the Libraries
7.27Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads
Were it not for Craugh the wizard, one of the oldest friends of the Library, Varrowyn was certain that not only the Vault of All Known Knowledge would have been destroyed, but every living person in Greydawn Moors would have been slain and the city burned to the ground.
Varrowyn’s head was filled with bitter thoughts. It irritated him because he knew he needed to be focused on the coming battle. Outnumbered almost three to one, his group would have a hard time of it. He couldn’t imagine being beaten. His pride wouldn’t even allow him to admit that possibility existed.
Farady halted at the edge of a scrap of rocky land that peered out over the Blood-Soaked Sea. He had his bow to hand and an arrow nocked.
The incoming tide lapped the broken rocks twenty feet below. If the goblinkin intended to make their landing there, they would find the going treacherous and slippery.
Without turning, Varrowyn lifted his left hand and waved the warriors behind him into hiding. Sea spray from the tide that slapped the rocks lining the coast mixed with the rolling fog and the night. Except for the port at Greydawn Moors, the island was a cold and inhospitable place. The Builders had planned it that way. The only easy access to the island was through the harbor at Greydawn Moors where undersea monsters patrolled the waters.
Goblinkin weren’t by nature sailors, but after Lord Kharrion’s final battle, when the Goblin Lord had been killed, the goblins still outnumbered the other races of the world. It had taken time, but the goblinkin
had gradually ventured out on the sea in captured ships, drawn by greed and by bloodlust. However, they had never learned to build vessels, using only those vessels they took from others.
Crouching, his battle-axe comfortably in both hands, Varrowyn stared out at the fog swirling above the black sea. Dirty silver foam rode the curlers into the harsh shoreline where rocks waited like a mouthful of broken fangs.
The dwarf couldn’t see his enemy, but he knew they were there. He heard the creaking oarlocks and smelled the goblinkin stench plainly now.
A twig snapped behind him.
Instantly, Varrowyn turned and trotted back through the ranks. “Who was that?” he whispered. “What lead-footed numbskull wasn’t watchin’ where he was steppin’?”
A chorus of “not-mes” sprang up. The offender didn’t step forward.
Varrowyn wasn’t used to having to ask twice. Fouling up earned a sharp rebuke, but not immediately taking responsibility for fouling up when he asked earned a quick knot on the head when he caught the perpetrator. And he always caught them. The dwarven captain also wasn’t used to anyone in his command making such a mistake, but there were humans among the elves and dwarves tonight.
“Wasn’t us, Varrowyn,” Anell said quietly. He was a young dwarf, but he’d been blooded in the battle for the Vault of All Known Knowledge.
Over the last month, Varrowyn had seen the young warrior age years. The quick and good fun of youth was gone, replaced by a haunted soberness.
“Then who?” Varrowyn demanded. “I got goblinkin lookin’ to make a landin’. I ain’t got time for somebody to be blamin’ forest creatures. I know they’s been settled down by the warders.” He scowled at the humans, who didn’t always come graceful to woodcraft.
“Was these two,” a voice in the back stated.
A slender elven warder in a hooded cloak pushed two small figures forward.
“Please,” one of them whispered. “We meant no harm. We only wanted to see.”
Surprise drew a curse from Varrowyn, who seldom cursed except during the heat of battle, as he studied the two the elven warder had
rousted from the forest. They were barely three feet tall, dressed in gray robes, and cowered with their heads tucked down into their shoulders like they were second cousins to turtles or baby chicks trying to hide their heads under their own wings.
“Dwellers,” one of the humans snarled in derision.
Varrowyn knew that many among the elves, dwarves, and humans didn’t have respect for the dwellers. Slight of stature and prodigious of appetite, egotistical and stingy (all of this through a combination of birth and upbringing), dwellers were cowards at heart.
The Old Ones’ magic had brought the dwellers into the world and given them the responsibility of caring for the Vault of All Known Knowledge. As the books had been destroyed under Lord Kharrion’s orders, the world had fallen into dim and cold ignorance. Reading and writing vanished, along with histories and scientific knowledge. Nothing was spared. Oral traditions could only keep so many things alive. On the island, the dwellers of Greydawn Moors taught their children to read so they could serve in the Great Library.
Unfortunately, over the years and the generations, the dwellers in Greydawn Moors had come to resent the human Grandmagisters who had orchestrated the cataloguing and restoration of the books that the Unity had successfully transported to the island. The dwellers had chosen to step away from their duties and concentrate instead on mealtimes and finding ways to fill their coin purses through secret trade with the mainland. They sent fewer children to the Library, and those children spent less time there as well.
As a result, the dwellers earned only derision and scorn from the dwarves, elves, and humans who lived on the island. All of them still gave everything they had to offer.
Some of the dwarves had sworn their lives and the lives of their children for generations to the protection of the Great Library. The elves had sworn on as warders to care for the island and the creatures that roamed it. Because they were so drawn to the sea, humans had agreed to operate the navy and pirate fleets that protected the island.
Other warriors made derisive comments as well.
The two dwellers stood tight against each other, fidgeting and nervous. The small hands of each caught at the robe of the other. One of
them carried a book and a Librarian’s bag containing writing utensils and inks.
Children, Varrowyn realized. He quieted the warriors with a terse command.
The silence fell immediately, broken only by the sweep of the oars out over the water.
“What are ye two doin’ here?” Varrowyn made his voice gruff. “An’ ye’ll not be talkin’ loud, ye won’t.”
The tallest one, though only by two inches, struggled to answer and finally got it out. “We-we-we had to c-c-come.”
“Ye had to.” Varrowyn pulled irritably at his beard. “If’n I asked yer ma, would she say ye had to come here tonight?”
“No, Varrowyn,” the dweller replied. He was dark haired and fair, with the leanness of youth on him that a life of largesse hadn’t yet blunted. “My ma would have my da to thrash me good.”
“Well, out here in the dark, what with goblins in them waters, ye deserve a thrashin’, ye do. If yer ma was to find yer beds empty, she’d be worried sick, she would.” Varrowyn had such a mother still yet to this day.
“I know,” the dweller lad said. “But we knew the goblinkin were coming and that you were going to fight them.”
“How did ye come to know that?”
“Our d-d-da owns the Sea Breeze T-t-tavern. Rutak and I d-d-do kitchen chores there sometimes. My n-n-name is Dockett Butterblender. We w-w-were there when you came c-c-calling for warriors tonight.” The young dweller looked glum. “When we get b-b-back, I expect our d-d-da to w-w-whip us anyway.”
“An’ still ye came.” Varrowyn shook his head. That wasn’t ordinary behavior for dwellers. They never risked unless there was something to be gained and they felt certain about the outcome.
“Hopin’ to see some blood spilt,” one of the dwarves said. His white grin split the night. “That’s not such a bad thing, Varrowyn.”
“W-w-wasn’t to come s-s-see blood spilled,” Dockett Butterblender said. “I c-c-came to do the t-t-task Grandmagister Lamplighter wanted us to do. We h-h-heard about the t-t-talk he gave at the town m-m-meeting before the goblinkin attacked.” He shook his head. “Until t-t-the attack, I’d never seen b-b-battle.”
Most of you hadn’t,
Varrowyn thought. He felt bad that children had
been forced to bear witness to such atrocities. Not only that, but many of them had been victims of the flaming catapult loads of pitchblende and rock that goblinkin ships had hurled into the city from the harbor. None of the dwellers living on the island had ever been exposed to war.
For hundreds of years, Greydawn Moors had gone long forgotten and never again found. Sailors plied the sea for trade with the mainland, and all the crews were sworn to secrecy about the existence of the Vault of All Known Knowledge and the Librarians that kept all the books in the world. All of them kept that secret because they had family on the island who would be exposed to the untender mercies of the vengeful goblinkin.
The oars creaked out on the sea, sounding closer now.
“Ye lads shouldn’t be here,” Varrowyn said. “Hurry on now an’ get back to bed. A beatin’ from yer pap, why it’d be safer than stayin’ here.”
“I can’t,” Dockett said. He held up the book he carried. “I learned to read and write from Grandmagister Lamplighter and First Librarian Juhg. They are the only two dwellers I know that have been off this island. I read accounts they wrote of their travels and adventures.”
“Lad,” Varrowyn said, “I ain’t got the time nor the patience to be dealin’ with ye. Now ye just get on—”
“No.” The young dweller’s answer was bold and strong. (Except for when his voice cracked in the middle.) But he folded his arms stubbornly like he hadn’t noticed. “My place is here. I’m staying.”
“It ain’t yer pap ye’d best be afraid of,” Varrowyn promised. “I bet my hand’s a lot more callused than yer pap’s, an’ I’ll last longer at whelpin’ ye than he will, I wager.”
“My place is here,” the young dweller pleaded. He held forth the book again. “Grandmagister Lamplighter said one of a Librarian’s greatest responsibilities is to write about things he learns and sees. First Level Librarian Juhg always maintained that any writing you do should be important, otherwise you were simply practicing words you’d learned.”
Varrowyn’s attention was split between the young dwellers and the approaching goblinkin longboats. “I’m sure the Gran’magister, he meant well, but this is not the time nor the place to—”
“We have lost so much,” Dockett interrupted. “All those books. The Librarians. All that knowledge is gone. We have to start getting some of it back. And future generations need to know what happened here during this time.”
High up on the Knucklebones, where the Great Library had once stood, flames flickered in the earth. Some of the caverns in the underground section of the Vault of All Known Knowledge still burned. On dark nights like tonight, the flames could be seen as orange flickers against the underbelly of the perpetual fog.
Varrowyn kept his tone deliberately harsh. “Ye should go.”
The young dweller shook his head sorrowfully. “I have to do my duty here.”
“What duty?” Varrowyn asked, exasperated.
“I have to record this battle.” Dockett opened the book he carried.
A brief bit of moonslight skated across the pages, but it was strong enough and long enough to show the sketches. Varrowyn recognized Farady and two of the dwarves featured in the drawing. They were seated at a table in the Sea Breeze Tavern.
“I started recording this at the Library,” Dockett said. “Where it all began. I’m trying to do what the Grandmagister charged us all with. I—”
“Varrowyn!

Farady’s call galvanized Varrowyn into action. He pointed at the forest. “Ye two get over there. Now! I’ll not have fightin’ men trippin’ over ye whilst they’re battlin’ for their lives.” There was no time and no way he could see them safely home, and the forest was going to quickly fill up with goblinkin that wouldn’t think anything of slitting the throats of a couple of dweller children.
The young dwellers turned and scampered for the tree line.
Taking up his battle-axe in both hands again, Varrowyn joined the elven warder at the shoreline. Farady pointed into the boiling fog.
Squinting his eyes against the stinging salt spray that whipped up over the small cliff, Varrowyn wiped his face and stared into the darkness. In the distance, he made out the first of the three longboats less than a bow shot away. Goblinkin shadows sat hunkered in the boat, pulling oars.
“Do we take them in the water?” Farady asked. He lifted his bow meaningfully.
“No,” Varrowyn answered, shaking his shaggy head. “On the land. Here. These ones will be a warnin’ to the others. I don’t want to kill some of ’em or maybe even most of ‘em. I want ’em
all
dead. When none of these come back, them goblinkin commanders of them ships out in the
harbor will have to think about that. It’ll be harder for ’em to assemble another group of raiders.”
“Very well.” Farady pulled back, staying low so he wouldn’t be detected against the skyline by the ships from below. He nocked a dark-fletched arrow to his bowstring and never turned from the approach of their enemies.
Varrowyn pulled his troops to the tree line, allowing the arriving goblinkin room to climb on shore.
BOOK: Lord of the Libraries
7.27Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Mischief by Amanda Quick
Panacea by Viola Grace
Death's Mistress by Karen Chance
Dickens's England by R. E. Pritchard
Breakthrough by Michael Grumley
Otherwise Engaged by Suzanne Finnamore
Stained by McBrayer, Jessica
Losing Mum and Pup by Christopher Buckley
La delicadeza by David Foenkinos
Smoke and Fire by Donna Grant