by Mel Odom
EPILOGUE
The Book of Time
Someone threw cold seawater over Juhg and woke him to the constant pain that had been his most frequent companion in the dark hold of the ship for the last several hours. He moaned a little in the darkness, knowing from experience that whoever was delivering the water liked to know that he was in discomfort.
Earlier, he’d tried being quiet and had nearly gotten his ribs kicked in. Of course, the time before that he’d moaned and gotten kicked, which had led him to the mistaken belief that crying out that time had led him to getting kicked.
No matter what happened, whenever someone entered the small storeroom where he was being held captive, he was going to get kicked or stomped or hit or beaten by a chain. His jailer just liked doing those things and didn’t derive any satisfaction from hearing his charge cry out or beg for mercy.
Under other circumstances, Juhg might have tried begging for mercy, but he had learned long ago in the goblinkin mines that begging was just a show of weakness that marked a target for further abuse.
“Sit him up.”
Juhg recognized Aldhran’s voice. He didn’t know how to feel about that. Since Juhg had regained consciousness on the goblinkin ship after the attack on Greydawn Moors, his captor hadn’t ever visited.
Dozens of questions popped through Juhg’s head. Chief among those was what had happened to Grandmagister Lamplighter, if his mentor was still alive and whole and healthy? When he’d awakened on the goblinkin ship as a prisoner, Juhg had felt certain the Grandmagister had also become a prisoner.
Juhg also wanted to know more about the relationship between Aldhran and the Grandmagister. The two of them knew each other, and it had sounded like Craugh—
A sob tightened the back of Juhg’s throat as he remembered the wizard lying broken on the shattered rock at the harbor. He had never spent much time with Craugh, not truly, but he had liked the wizard well enough not to wish any harm to him. And Craugh had seemed indomitable, unbreakable, a force of nature rather than a man.
Juhg forced himself to breathe out as he moved gingerly and sat upright. The shackles on his ankles were old and familiar weights, but the shackles on his wrists were new. A hood covered his head and reminded him uncomfortably of the executioner’s block he’d seen in Green Troll Gap, a small town in the South that consisted of bandits and thieves. Things had gotten so bad there that they had taken their worst offenders and chopped their heads off, just to keep the others from stealing from each other or committing murder.
“Juhg,” a quiet voice said.
Excitement flared through Juhg when he recognized the voice. “Grandmagister?”
“Yes.” Grandmagister Lamplighter sounded tired and worn.
Juhg wondered if the goblinkin had been beating him too.
“Are you all right?” the Grandmagister asked.
Juhg didn’t quite know how to answer that question. He still tasted blood inside his mouth.
“He’s alive,” Aldhran growled. “Get that hood off of him.”
When the hood was removed by one of the goblinkin guards in the room, Juhg had to squint his eyes against the harsh lantern light that filled the storeroom. In addition to the Grandmagister and the mysterious Aldhran and six goblinkin guards, there were two other humans.
One of the humans was tall and gaunt, with long gray hair and beard and eyes that looked flat and dead. The other man had fiery red hair and a mustache. His freckled skin looked too warm, as if he were carrying a recent sunburn. The older man wore a long robe and the younger man wore a warrior’s harness festooned with weapons and scarred from numerous battles.
“He doesn’t have to remain alive,” Aldhran warned. “Of course, Mikros can chop a number of pieces off of him before he actually kills him.”
The redheaded man grinned. “My specialty. My da was a butcher.”
The storeroom was cold with the chill of the sea. However long they had been at sail, Juhg knew they had been on the ocean. He knew that from the swells the vessel rode out. All that time, and they had gone farther and farther from Greydawn Moors.
In the darkness, Juhg had thought of the town nestled at the foothills of the Knucklebones Mountains often. None of those races living there (outside of the dwarves, who always stayed prepared for such things) had been prepared for an invading goblinkin navy. No one there had ever believed it would happen. Even after the Dread Riders and Blazebulls and Grymmlings had appeared in the Vault of All Known Knowledge, no one had thought such a thing would happen. He wondered how much of the town still stood against all the fires that had been set.
Juhg shivered and coughed, feeling weak and scared. He hated lying in the wet that covered the storeroom floor.
Grandmagister Lamplighter looked at Aldhran. “I don’t want him treated harshly any more. I won’t have it.” His voice was strong and full of conviction.
“‘Won’t have it,’ he says,” the redheaded man said, laughing without humor. “And what will you do about it, Grandmagister? Chastise me? Make me copy sections out of books?”
The Grandmagister didn’t turn from Aldhran. “That will be our agreement, yes?”
That amused Aldhran. “Do you trust me?”
“I don’t have a choice.”
Aldhran lifted a speculative eyebrow. “I could lie to you. Is that what you want? A lie from me? Will that make you feel better?” The man laughed. “I’m sure any promise I make you won’t help your apprentice feel better at all. Even if you believe me, I don’t think that he will.”
“I want you to promise.”
Aldhran shook his head. “The time for fun and games is over. I want that book.”
“That book doesn’t exist,” the Grandmagister answered.
Despite his pain and fear, Juhg couldn’t help being interested in the conversation. First of all, he wanted to know what book it was they discussed. And second, and he didn’t know whether to feel bad or good about this, there was a chance he knew where the book was.
Of course, there was also a good chance—four in five, he grimly reminded himself—that the book had been destroyed in the fires that ravaged the Library.
Aldhran cursed and paced in short quick steps, which was all the storeroom allowed. “What kind of fool do you take me for, Librarian?”
The Grandmagister made no reply.
Directing his attention to Juhg, Aldhran said, “What about you, apprentice?”
The term immediately galled Juhg and reminded him of Craugh at the same time.
“Do you say the book doesn’t exist?” Aldhran asked. “Do you believe that I am a fool?”
Juhg looked from the Grandmagister to the human several times, finally ending up looking at the human. Despite his pain and the chance for making his situation even worse, he couldn’t put aside his innate curiosity. “What book?”
“The book,” Aldhran snarled. He slammed his fist into the storeroom wall. “The only book that matters. The lost book that Lord Kharrion searched for while he burned the world’s Libraries.”
The Goblin Lord searched for a book? Juhg blinked at that. In all the legends and stories he’d heard about the Goblin Lord, he’d never once heard that Lord Kharrion searched for a book. The idea just seemed … impossible.
“The Book of Time,” Aldhran said in exasperation. “Golden Tohras’ final spell to unveil the ages woven into an illuminated manuscript. Written but lost after Golden Tohras was betrayed and murdered by his king.”
Amazed, Juhg said nothing. That the enemies, whoever they were, searched for The Book of Time was even more astounding than learning Lord Kharrion was looking for such a book. Everyone connected with books and libraries knew the myth about the book that showed everything that happened for all times past and all time to come was nothing more than a myth. There was no way any one book could hold all that information.
Unless the world ends really soon. Sitting in the storeroom in the dank bottom of a goblinkin ship made that possibility suddenly s
eem very real and very near to hand.
“I’ve heard of that book,” Juhg said cautiously. Everyone who worked with books had heard of The Book of Time. The story was one of the grandest myths ever, but only children paid it any real attention. Every adult knew the book wasn’t real, that it couldn’t be real. In fact, no one had ever proven that Golden Tohras was a real person or where the mythical kingdom had existed.
Aldhran cursed, then nodded at the goblinkin closest to Juhg. Without preamble, the goblin lifted its foot and brought it crashing down on Juhg’s wounded leg. The dragonet’s claws had lacerated his ankle and those lacerations had already started to become infected because of the damp conditions of the ship.
Pain exploded in Juhg’s mind and he almost blacked out. The goblinkin dumped another bucket of water over him. He sputtered and kept himself from crying out as the cold saltwater burned into his freshly opened wounds.
“I grow weary of this exercise, Grandmagister,” Aldhran warned. “Keep disappointing me and I’ll set Mikros free with his knives. I’ll let you keep the pieces of your apprentice as trophies.”
Brushing through the goblinkin, the Grandmagister dropped to his knees at Juhg’s side. Worry showed on his face.
“Juhg,” the Grandmagister said, “I’m sorry I got you into this.” He held Juhg’s head. “I swear I never meant for you to be involved in this matter after all these years. Until recently, I didn’t know about Lord Kharrion’s true quest, nor of The Book of Time.”
Years? Juhg looked at his mentor with surprise. How had the Grandmagister kept anything hidden from him after all these years?
“This is about Golden Tohras’ book,” the Grandmagister said. “It is real. And being real, with all the powers ever imagined to it and more, it is a most dangerous thing.”
Juhg tried to digest that.
“That was what Lord Kharrion searched for when he burned all the libraries all those years ago,” the Grandmagister said. “Aldhran, these people around us, they are part of the library that Lord Kharrion set up without the goblinkin knowing. They documented and researched the book, but they didn’t have everything they needed. But Lord Kharrion knew that the book is real.”
“You mean he believed it was real,” Juhg said. He struggled to make sense of everything he was hearing. How could the book be real? How could Lord Kharrion have hidden his quest from the goblinkin?
How could the Grandmagister hide all of these things from him?
“No, Juhg. The Goblin Lord didn’t just believe the book was real. He knew it was. He and that book were bound in ways that I can’t go into now.” The Grandmagister shook his head. “The book is real, Juhg. And whoever holds it, whoever commands its power, can command this world.”
Juhg looked at his mentor. “Do you—do you know where the book is?”
“I don’t know. Mayhap.” The Grandmagister shrugged. “I can’t be sure. I was still researching everything I’d found out. There was so much. Lies. Half-truths. I’d hoped one day to have you help me. But you were so conflicted about what you needed in your life that I couldn’t add the complication of knowledge of the book.” He sighed. “Just knowing the book exists … it’s very confusing even for me.”
“Grandmagister,” Juhg said, not knowing what he was going to ask, not certain if he just wanted to know his mentor had discovered the greatest secret any Librarian could hope for, or if he only wanted information to help bargain for his life.
“I can’t tell them, Juhg. I apologize for that. I didn’t mean for you to get caught and brought into this. But there were so many things I couldn’t foresee, so many chances I had to take.” The Grandmagister paused, looking years older than he was and more tired than Juhg had ever seen him. “The book is in a safe place. A dangerous place. A place that mortal beings might not even be able to get to. At any rate, it’s a long way from here—if it’s there. And that serves us now.” He held his hand so that only Juhg could see the two small glass vials cupped in his palm. “Remember Imarish?”
“The canal city?” Juhg asked, recalling the dangers he and the Grandmagister had faced there not so long ago. He was confused that the Grandmagister would bring the city up, but he was mostly confused by all the secrets that had spilled out in just a matter of moments.
Aldhran and his cohorts listened attentively, and Juhg knew they were trying to decipher everything the Grandmagister said, looking for some clue among his words and half-spoken thoughts.
“Yes,” Juhg responded. “I remember Imarish. The canal city.”
“Good.” The Grandmagister smiled and looked pleased. “I’ve left something for you there.”
“The book?” Aldhran demanded, stepping closer.
“You must go and get it, Juhg. You must get it and carry on in my stead if I am unable to complete my quest here.”
“All right,” Aldhran snarled. “That’s enough of that. Now we’re going to do things my way.”
The Grandmagister ignored the human. Deftly, the Grandmagister opened the two small bottles in one hand, using skills a pickpocket would have envied, and mixed the two contents. One liquid was red and the other was clear. When they were mixed, however, they glowed a virulent green against the Grandmagister’s palm.
The color reminded Juhg of Craugh.
“What are you doing?” Aldhran demanded. He turned to the goblinkin. “You checked him, didn’t you?”
The goblinkin nodded.
“There’s magic in this room,” Aldhran said, “and it wasn’t there a moment ago!” He stepped toward the Grandmagister, sliding a knife free from his hip.
“Drink this.” The Grandmagister poured the contents of the two bottles into Juhg’s mouth. “Swallow.” He gripped Juhg’s face and massaged his cheeks.
The liquid tasted bitter and dry, like roasted almonds. Since he’d been without drinking water for hours or possibly for days, Juhg had a hard time swallowing the liquid. But once he did, he started feeling lighter, healthier.
Cursing, Aldhran yanked the Grandmagister back and shoved the knife forward, obviously planning on sticking Juhg with it.
Unable to stop himself, Juhg backed away, knowing the wrist and ankle shackles would keep him from being able to move completely out of the way. He felt the coldness of the knife plunge into his chest.
Strangely, there was no pain.
Scared and puzzled, Juhg peered down at the knife thrust into his chest. There was also no blood. Then he noticed that Aldhran’s hand had plunged into his chest as well, crowding in all the way up to the wrist.
Magic, Juhg realized, remembering the spell Craugh had used in the Library to pull him and Varrowyn’s dwarven warriors through the floor to escape certain death. Even as he thought of that, the wrist shackles dropped through his arms and splashed to the wet floor.
Gaining courage, Juhg stood, moving through Aldhran and pulling free of the ankle shackles as well. A goblin swung a sword at him, passing the blade through his hands and neck as Juhg instinctively tried to defend himself.
“He gave him a potion!” Aldhran yelled.
“Go, Juhg,” the Grandmagister said. “Escape. You’ve got to get to Imarish. I’m sorry I have to leave this to you, but Craugh can help. And there are others.”
Craugh? Craugh is dead. Juhg looked at the Grandmagister and wondered if his mentor was becoming mentally unbalanced. They had both seen the wizard shot with the arrow and plunge over the side of the tower.
And what others?
Aldhran stepped over to the Grandmagister and put his knife to his throat. “If you try to escape, apprentice, I’ll cut his throat.”
“He won’t do it, Juhg,” the Grandmagister said. “He needs me. Without me he can’t find the book.”
Aldhran eyed Juhg fiercely. “I’ll kill him! By the Eternal Darkness, I swear I’ll kill him!”
“He won’t,” the Grandmagister said. “I gave you the potion so that you could escape. If you stay here, Juhg, they will make me talk.” Sadness showed in hi
s eyes. “I can’t protect you and protect the book. I can only hope that through saving you I can save the book from them. But you must hurry. The potion will only last for a short time.”
“Grandmagister—” Juhg started.
Grandmagister Lamplighter stood straighter, causing Aldhran to yelp in fury and surprise and pull the knife from his captive’s throat before he cut him.
“First Level Librarian,” the Grandmagister said in an imperious voice, “you have been given your assignment. Do not fail or you will fail us both.” His voice lowered. “I will not be dishonored, Juhg. I won’t be known as the Grandmagister who lost The Book of Time to those that would destroy the world. Now … go.”
Juhg felt the power of the spell waning. He was already starting to feel a little heavier, and the pain was sharpening again, becoming more than a dim echo. Tears blurring his vision, not knowing why the Grandmagister hadn’t saved himself, he turned and reached for the wall behind him.
“Stop him!” Aldhran roared.
The goblinkin rushed forward and tried to grip Juhg, but their hands and their weapons passed through him.
Knowing he didn’t have enough time to run through the goblinkin ship and effect his escape, Juhg took the more direct route. If he hadn’t been through the floors of the Library, he knew he wouldn’t have thought of escaping through the ship’s hull.
But he did.
Passing through the wood, stepping from the lantern-lighted hold to the cold blackness of the sea, was disconcerting. There was a moment of greasy resistance, then he was free of the ship and floating in the ocean.
His immediate thought was of the monsters that lurked in the Blood-Soaked Sea. Images of the great and terrible beasts that had attacked the goblinkin ships out in the harbor filled his mind and he grew desperate and afraid.
Despite being underwater, he breathed naturally. He didn’t even think of that till the cold grew stronger and he sipped his first taste of salty seawater. Instinctively, he knew the potion’s effects had ended before he choked on the sea, and he held his breath.
Frightened but telling himself that he couldn’t be more than twenty or thirty feet beneath the ocean’s surface, he swam upward. Just as his lungs were about to give out, he clawed through to the air.
