Lord of the Libraries (39 page)

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Authors: Mel Odom

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BOOK: Lord of the Libraries
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“They were memories,” Juhg croaked. His throat felt raw and bruised from the Slither’s grip. “Just memories.”
“What do you mean?” Craugh asked.
Juhg held up the brown gemstones in his hand. “They were just memories, held trapped here by the power in these gemstones. This section of
The Book of Time
holds the power to look into the past. Lord Kharrion broke
The Book of Time
into pieces here. When the Slither attacked me, I saw his memories of where he had lived.”
“He lived here?” Cobner asked.
“Once upon a time, he was a dwarf. Lord Kharrion altered his form and gave him powers to become
The Book of Time’s
guardian. He also gave him the ability to walk to the different sections of the book without crossing the space in between.”
“What happened to the Slither?” Jassamyn asked. She held her hand up and the fluttering draca landed there. “And to the … ‘ghosts.’? I suppose they were memories as well.”
“They had to be,” Juhg said. “Just memories of dwarves who had lived here and left their lives marked on the stones of this chamber.” He took a deep breath. “While I was in the Slither’s memory—I don’t think we were actually back in the past—”
“You never left this room, Apprentice,” Craugh said. “You remained on the floor fighting the Slither. Till it, and the others, disappeared.”
“I helped him remember and I believe that was what took him away from here,” Juhg said. “I was with him when the Molten Forge Mountains exploded and killed everyone here.” Tears slid down his face as he remembered the dwarven men, women, and children who had perished in that onslaught. “And, Old Ones help me, now I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget.”
 
 
“Did you sleep much?”
Crawling from his tent, Juhg saw that Jassamyn tended the morning campfire. Dawn had come for a time, but the shadows of the trees still
stretched long and tall over them. The impenetrable fog that lingered over the Smoking Marshes was only a little less so this morning, but it was the brightest day Juhg had seen since arriving there.
“Some,” Juhg answered. He tried to work the aches and pains from his body, but the task proved too painful to complete or even pursue with much enthusiasm or vigor.
“You didn’t sound like you rested.”
“Not overmuch.” Juhg peered around the campsite and saw Cobner and Raisho readying the horses.
“I’m afraid it’s going to be a breakfast in the saddle,” the elven maid said. “Craugh is in a hurry to go.”
“I’m in no mood to linger here either,” Juhg said. But it would have been good to rest for a little while.
After they had made their way back out of the caves last night, with Cobner carrying the cornerstone which he swore he would see to a safe place, they had returned to camp. Craugh and Juhg had examined the gemstones till they could no longer keep their eyes open. As with the blue gemstones, no one else could touch the brown gemstones. The wizard had tried touching them, but at the sight of sparks, he’d given up his efforts and accepted that he could only examine them visually.
Further experimentation with the brown gemstones revealed that Juhg could indeed look back into the past. He saw himself and the Grandmagister stealing through the marshes all those years ago, and he visited parts of his friends’ past—but that had seemed somehow wrong and he’d quickly given it up.
Craugh, whose past Juhg would have liked to explore, could not be reached. Every time Juhg tried, and he’d tried again only moments ago, he’d gotten a splitting headache. Coupled with the aches that already filled him, he’d allowed himself to be quickly dissuaded.
Juhg had also tried to visit the mantis’s past and had failed at that. Since the In-Betweenness insisted on being past, present, and future all rolled into one, Juhg supposed he couldn’t see into the mantis’s past because the creature really didn’t have one.
Jassamyn handed Juhg a cup of stew she’d made from crayfish she’d taken from the marsh, and wild vegetables and greens and herbs she’d found in the forest. She’d also picked a bag full of fresh blackberries that were ripe and sweet.
They broke camp within minutes and began retracing their path out of the Smoking Marshes.
Seated on his horse, leaving the reins wrapped around the saddle pommel and trusting the animal to simply follow Craugh’s horse ahead of it, Juhg worked in his journal. Over the years of traveling with the Grandmagister, he’d learned to work almost anywhere, and the metronomic measure of the horse’s movements was not much worse than working aboardship.
Hours passed but he scarcely noticed them, drawn deeply into his work and knowing that still so much work remained ahead of him. Finally, though, he was done. He put away his charcoal and waited till Craugh finally, mercifully, called a break to rest the horses and to prepare a brief meal.
Raisho cared for the horses, leading them to water and holding onto the reins. Closer to the outer perimeter of the marshlands now, the sun shone through in places. They’d stopped at one of those places.
The young sailor stood with his face turned up to the sun, just enjoying the warm heat for a moment. Juhg walked over to him but was afraid to interrupt.
“Ye’re too polite, scribbler,” Raisho said. “Ye stay quiet like that, like ye don’t want nobody to know ye’re there, why ye’re like to be waitin’ a powerful long time.”
“Can I talk to you for a moment?” Juhg had struggled with how best to approach his friend with the news that he had.
Raisho gazed at him and shook his head. “Of course ye can.”
Juhg hesitated.
“Out with it. Ye take too long to spit it out an’ Craugh’ll be ditherin’ about needin’ to mount up an’ get movin’ again.”
“I looked back into your past last night,” Juhg confessed.
Raisho laughed and shook his head. “I expect ye were properly mortified at what ye saw. I done some things here an’ there that I don’t even want to remember.”
“It’s about your parents, Raisho,” Juhg said.
Raisho looked at him, clearly not understanding.
“I found them,” Juhg said. “I looked back into your past and saw when you were taken from your mother’s bosom.”
That was another memory he thought he would never forget. Early in
the morning when he’d found that twist of past, he’d been alone. Seeing the baby taken from his mother had hurt. Even now he felt the beginnings of tears.
“Ye saw me parents?” Raisho whispered hoarsely.
“I did.” Juhg opened his journal to display the two people he had labored to draw that morning.
Raisho took the journal in shaking hands. He stared at the people, then touched the faces ever so lightly.
Juhg started to tell him that the drawings were in charcoal and fragile, but he didn’t. If he needed to, he knew he could recreate the drawings from memory. “Your da’s name is Tranth. Your ma’s name is Machia.”
Tears streaked Raisho’s cheeks. Embarrassed, he wiped them away. “‘Is’? Ye said, ‘Is’?”
Nodding, Juhg said, “They’re
alive,
Raisho. You have two brothers and a sister as well. They were born after your parents escaped slavery. Your da is a fisherman—”
“That’s why I have the sea in me blood,” Raisho said excitedly. “I come by it honest. An’ me ma? What about her?”
“She’s a healer.”
“They’re alive,” Raisho whispered.
“Not only that,” Juhg said. “I know where they are. I can tell you how to find them. I know the place and the village and the house. I’ve seen them.”
Raisho stared at the drawings. “I want to see them. I want to see what I come from.”
“I know. That’s why I wanted to tell you.” Juhg paused, knowing Craugh wouldn’t be happy with what he was about to say. “No one would blame you if you decided to leave us and go there.”
For a long time, Raisho stared at the drawings. “I can’t, scribbler. Not until we finish this. I started this with ye, I’ll finish it the same way. When I go to see them, I’ll take ye with me.” He grinned under his tears. “Ain’t no other way they’re gonna believe me.”
Juhg smiled back at his friend, but he hoped they only lived so long.
“What about yer own da an’ ma an’ siblin’s?” Raisho asked. “Did ye find them as well?”
“I did,” Juhg replied, feeling the cold pain ache deep within him. The memories he’d found had tortured him all during the night, giving birth to the nightmares that had followed Kim into his sleep.
“Where are they?”
Juhg had to force his words through his tight throat. “They’re dead. They all died in the mines. Before the Grandmagister rescued me.” He paused. “I have no family.”
Releasing the horses’ reins, Raisho dropped to his knees and hugged Juhg fiercely. “Ye do, Juhg. Ye got me. I swear as long as I live that ye’ll always have family. Ye are me brother. Me heart an’ yers, we beat together.”
Juhg hugged his friend—his brother—back and hoped that they lived long enough for Raisho to see his family. They were heading into the Drylands, and that was one of the most dangerous places Juhg had ever been.
Red Sails
F
or nine days, Juhg traveled by horseback with his companions. They pushed as fast and as hard as they dared for the Drylands and the third piece of
The Book of Time
that was supposed to be in the Oasis of Bleached Bones.
On the morning of the tenth day, they reached Fringe.
The town seemed proud of its reputation as the last town on the west side of the Drylands. Part of the municipal decor consisted of skulls of every type hanging on the shops and public buildings. Not a few of them were goblinkin skulls (and most of those were gathered at the taverns and inns). All of the skulls served as a grim reminder that hospitality and comfort of any kind ended at Fringe.
After spending so much time in the wilderness and seated on horses, Craugh relented and allowed them to spend a night at a proper inn, which he paid for. Raisho and Juhg roomed together, while Cobner and Craugh took a room. Jassamyn got a room of her own between them to ensure her safety.
In addition to being known as the last chance for supplies
and comfort, Fringe was also known as being a lawless place. Smugglers and thieves tended to stay in town when trouble was looking for them elsewhere. Of course, they usually started trouble in Fringe before leaving. The Peacekeepers in Fringe took a harsh line with lawbreakers and three or four of them could usually be found hanging around town, literally, in various stages of decomposition.
Craugh got them up early the next morning, drawing groans and protests from all. Over breakfast, the wizard gave them assignments.
“Cobner,” Craugh said, “you and I will see about transportation.”
“Horses won’t carry us across that desert,” Cobner said. “We’ll have to use sandsails.”
“Sandsails?” Raisho looked up. “A ship or a boat?”
“Something like that,” Cobner said. “You’ll see soon enough.”
“I could go with ye,” Raisho volunteered, obviously curious about the craft.
“You’re going to be arranging for supplies,” Craugh said. “You’ll get the food.”
Raisho scowled and turned his attention to his breakfast plate piled high with sausages and fruits.
“Jassamyn,” Craugh went on, “we’ll need more arrows for your bow. And get whatever else you think we’ll need in the way of weapons. We’re facing inhospitable land as well as ferocious beasts and goblinkin.” He dropped a bag of gold into her hand.
“What about me?” Juhg asked, realizing the wizard wasn’t about to assign him a task.
“Get your journals caught up, apprentice,” Craugh said. “And see if you can get those gemstones to impart any further knowledge regarding Wick or what we’ll be facing in the next few days. Our race is nearly run, but the way hasn’t gotten any easier.”
Silently, Juhg nodded. He wished that using the gemstones was as easy as the wizard made it sound.
 
 
During the course of the day as he worked on his journals, Juhg also used the gemstones. With the blue gemstones, he looked in on Greydawn Moors and found that the island defenders had actually made headway against the goblinkin.
During his survey of Greydawn Moors, Juhg’s attention was caught by a young dweller working among the ruins of the Library. All of the repair work on the Vault of All Known Knowledge had ground to a halt with the arrival of the goblinkin siege forces. Caught for a moment by the jarring image of the dweller working on a journal next to the broken heap of rock that had been the main Library tower, Juhg studied the figure.
The white Novice robes marked the dweller as a Librarian. Then the features registered and Juhg knew he was watching Dockett Butterblender, one of the more promising of the new Librarians. In fact, the Grandmagister had been on the verge of promoting Dockett to Third Level Librarian and placing him under Juhg’s tutelage when Juhg had decided to leave the island.
Peering more closely through the magic of the gemstone, Juhg saw that Dockett was working on a sketch of a nighttime battle off the coast of Greydawn Moors. Varrowyn was easily recognizeable.
He’s doing his duty,
Juhg thought. A pang of guilt twinged inside him. Dockett had only a few years in at the Library, but already he knew the importance of the mission they’d undertaken to preserve knowledge
—all knowledge, including the current events happening at Greydawn Moors.
Watching the young dweller work, Juhg remembered how important the Grandmagister had held those two jobs of the Librarian: taking care of history by protecting the books, and keeping history current by adding new books and writings to the Library on a regular basis. Someone had to keep records of everything important that happened, and it was history even though it was but a moment ago.
Good job, Dockett, he thought, and wished that he was there to recognize the young dweller’s efforts in person. If he survived, he intended to do that very thing. Reluctantly, hating to leave his observation of such a common task, he turned his attention to other activity on the island.
Some of the island’s trade ships ran the goblinkin blockade and brought back necessary supplies and medicines to help stretch the island’s meager resources. Juhg also ascertained that Hallekk and
One-Eyed Peggie
maintained their position at the bottom of the Haze Mountains.
He attempted to use the brown gemstones to investigate more of the mysteries surrounding Lord Kharrion, but those were locked away behind some impenetrable veil. He had no contact with the mantis, although he had tried.
How was the Grandmagister faring? Juhg desperately wished to know. Once they reached the Oasis of Bleached Bones, they were only seven days away from the Haze Mountains. The first two days would be spent again on a horse, followed by five days of travel by river barge along the Dragon’s Tongue River, so named for the peculiar small fish that filled the waters there.
But that was only if they survived the trek across the Drylands.
What weighed most heavily on Juhg’s mind was Craugh and the uncertainty the wizard represented. Craugh’s part in the theft of The Book of Time, the Grandmagister’s attempted warning, and even the warning from Juhg’s future self made trusting the wizard a difficult choice.
Juhg had spoken to Jassamyn about the matter when he had given her the updated version of the journal he had made for her. The elven maid had listened attentively and been sympathetic, but she had no advice. Watching her, Juhg knew that she was torn as well because she had been a friend to Craugh even more years than he had. He felt guilty again for having brought the matter to her attention. The Grandmagister would be better at handling the situation Juhg faced, and he couldn’t wait to let the Grandmagister deal with it.
Raisho was to bed hours before Juhg finally went to sleep at the makeshift desk he’d fixed between the beds. Waking only a little after falling over, Juhg roused himself enough to blow out the candle and go to bed.
 
 
“Have ye ever traveled by one of these contraptions afore?” Raisho asked early the next morning. He scowled at the vehicle Craugh had secured to cross the desert.
“Yes,” Juhg answered. “A few times with the Grandmagister when we had to go to Shimmerpool to the north.”
The vehicle looked very much like a small, two-masted sailboat equipped with sled runners. Only the craft did not have a proper hull, possessing only canvas seats and a storage area made of small dowel rods instead of solid wood to keep the weight light.
“What’s it called?” Raisho asked.
“A sandsail,” Juhg answered.
“Ye’re sure that it will get us across the Drylands?”
“Travelers use them all the time. If you tried to take a horse across the Drylands, you and the horse would die. As we go out there, you’ll see not a few who perished out there on the sand.”
Raisho shook his head. “I have to tell ye, scribbler, I ain’t looking forward to none of this.”
Juhg silently agreed. But there was no way around the need to go, and no other way to get there.
The human who had sold Craugh the two sandsails delivered them with his son. They both rode mules and pulled a sandsail behind. Both were taciturn, burned beet-red from constant exposure to the hot sun.
“When you get out there on the sand and far from Fringe,” the man said, “you want to be careful. Goblinkin have been reported out there more often than normal.”
“Goblinkin?” Craugh repeated. “Why would goblinkin spend time out in the Drylands? Mayhap they don’t die as easily as men, elves, and dwarves, but the desert kills them, too.”
“Nobody knows,” the man said. “But travelers have been disappearing out that way for months.”
Craugh thanked the man and paid the balance due. The man wished them good luck and left.
Working quickly, the companions loaded the two sandsails with supplies. Most of the supplies consisted of water because, as far as anyone knew, there was no water to be had in the Drylands after leaving Fringe.
Cobner and Craugh took one of the sandsails, leaving the second for Jassamyn, Raisho, and Juhg. The wizard believed the weight was as equally divided as possible.
Jassamyn had limited experience with sandsails, so Juhg took the driver’s seat. Luckily, the wind was with them. Juhg let out the sails and watched in satisfaction as the canvas captured the wind. Slowly, at first, the sandsail started forward and the skis shushed through the sand.
Once clear of the city, Juhg added more and more sails, building primarily to the forward mast since it was the tallest. Both masts had specially constructed yardarms that telescoped out so additional sails could be easily added. In no time in all, the sandsail sped across the great expanse of the Drylands faster than a racehorse could run. And unlike a racehorse, the sandsail could keep up to speed as long as the wind blew.
Satisfied with the arrangement of the sails, Juhg stepped back into the driver’s seat and belted in. Raisho sat next to him, while Jassamyn rode behind him. Her little draca clung to one of the yardarms on the rear mast.
“It goes fast,” Raisho said. “I will give it that.”
“As long as the wind blows,” Juhg agreed.
“An’ if the wind stops blowin’?”
“Then we’re becalmed, just like
Windchaser
when the wind goes away.”
Raisho regarded the distant horizon and rubbed his chin. “Ain’t much different than sailin’, then is it?”
“No,” Juhg replied.
“Except when a ship’s becalmed, you don’t get out and pull it,” Jassamyn said. “I’ve been on trips before when I had to pull a sandsail for miles before we caught another breeze.”
“Goes to show that ye never spent much time on a real workin’ ship,” Raisho said. “I’ve manned many a longboat with oars to pull a ship a few miles in hopes of catchin’ a wind.”
At Raisho’s request, Juhg began teaching the young sailor how to steer the sandsail with the reins that controlled the different sail panels. In less than an hour, Raisho could handle the sandsail as if born to it. Jassamyn laughed and clapped at the young sailor’s exuberance.
For a moment, Juhg was caught up in the levity, then the weight of the gemstones in the leather pouch around his neck brought back the reality of their situation. With the sandsail in good hands, he turned his attention back to his translation of the Grandmagister’s journal.
Looking out over the rolling mountains of sand, it was hard to imagine that once a great forest had lived there, much less a river and one of the greatest elven cities ever. Juhg wondered how Lord Kharrion had presented his case to the elves to get them agree to join his cause.
Demonstrating his newfound skill, Raisho shifted some of the sail panels to lose speed, let Cobner and Craugh’s sandsail slide past him, then swooped behind them, briefly stole their wind to slow them down, and charged ahead once more. Raucous comments flew between the dwarven warrior and the young sailor.
Though he intended to refamiliarize himself with the Grandmagister’s notes, the sibilant shushing of the sand skis, the warmth of the sun, and the wind in his face all lulled Juhg to sleep before he knew it.
 
 
The goblinkin slavers struck just before sunset.
Jassamyn spotted them first, shaking Juhg awake even as she yelled for Craugh’s attention.
Groggy, Juhg looked up at the elven maid. “What’s wrong?” He looked back to the west, in the direction she was looking, but the setting sun made it hard to see.
“Sails,” Jassamyn replied, taking up her bow and putting an arrow to string. “Red sails.”
“In the sunset?” Juhg sat up straighter and squinted. His eyes burned from dryness and fatigue, but he thought he saw what had caught Jassamyn’s attention.
A collection of red sails sailed in the sunset. Coming out of a sky that looked like a dying sun had burst over the horizon and stained everything red and purple, the sails were hard to spot.

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