The Forbidden Library

by David Alastair Hayden

  “I’d rather not.”

  Iniru gave him a perfunctory hug and a peck on the cheek. He breathed in deep the smell of her. All the smoky meats in the world couldn’t hide the scent from him. She whispered into his ear.

  “Happy birthday, Turesobei. I’d give you a much bigger kiss … if I could … and if I wasn’t mad at you.”

  Before he could respond she was shoved aside. Kurine stepped in, casting an evil sideways glance at Iniru. Kurine pulled him into a deep hug. “Happy birthday, my beloved.” She moved in to kiss him full on the lips, but he turned his head just as she neared him. The kiss missed his mouth and slid across his cheek. An annoyed look crossed her face.

  “My betrothed,” he said as warmly as he could manage. “All this … it’s wonderful. I’ve never had a party before and this is perfect.”

  She laughed. “Yay! Come, you must eat.”

  As Turesobei threaded through the crowd that had gathered, he received well-wishes from every goronku he’d gotten to know and many that he had not. The common room was big enough to fit all the goronku if necessary, but many had stayed home. Some were old and uninterested in parties. Some were on guard duty or out hunting. Others had early work shifts and were already asleep. Mostly the party was made up of young people who would soon reach sixteen and those who had seen sixteen within the last twenty years.

  Along with his companions and Kemsu, he piled his plate full of food. The goronku food was good, if all a bit the same. He reached a table of flagons filled with water and casks of what he would’ve guessed was mead or wine, except he knew neither of those was available here due to the climate. Two rows of tiny cups ringed the casks.

  “What’s this?” he asked Kemsu.

  “Ikase. Fermented sonoke milk.”

  “That sounds disgusting,” Enashoma said.

  Kemsu filled a tiny cup with ikase and held it out for them to smell.

  Enashoma flinched. “Ugh, it smells disgusting too. Why would you drink that?”

  “You don’t have spirits where you’re from?” Kurine asked.

  “Oh we do,” Turesobei replied. “Wine from grapes and rice, ale, mead, and others. But all of those smell good. None of them smell like milk that’s turned sour three times over.”

  “It smells like that because that’s more or less how you make it,” Kemsu said. He took a sip and breathed out as if he’d swallowed a bit of fire. He offered the cup of ikase to Iniru. “Try some. I bet you can’t drink more of it than I can.”

  Iniru snorted. “I probably can’t. My senses are far more attuned than you. I’ll pass. Thanks.”

  Kurine filled a cup halfway and offered it to Turesobei. “For you, my love.”

  “I think I’ll pass, too,” he replied.

  “But you can’t,” she replied. “It’s tradition. You are old enough to drink ikase now. You must have some at your birthday feast or it’s rotten luck.”

  “You won’t survive more rotten luck,” said Iniru, smirking.

  He shot Iniru a dirty look and took the cup. “I’m already old enough to drink wine and mead where I come from.”

  Kurine put her arm around him. “You’re not getting out of this. I suggest drinking it fast. One gulp. Get it over with.”

  With a lot of people watching, Turesobei downed the ikase. Immediately he regretted it. He doubled over as it scalded its way down his throat and burned into his gut. Coughing, his throat seemingly on fire, he begged for water. Enashoma passed him her flagon and he drank all of it.

  “More, please.”

  “The burn fades,” Kemsu said.

  “What about the taste? It’s the most disgusting thing ever.”

  “That takes a while,” Kurine said. “There’s a reason the only time I’ve ever had it was on my birthday.”

  “You get used to it,” Kemsu said, taking a sip from his cup.

  “You don’t have many drunks here, do you?” Zaiporo asked.

  “People who drink too much?” Kurine asked. “Oh, we have those. I guess some people —”

  “Have no taste buds?” Turesobei said.

  All of them sat together, their plates piled high with food, and they managed to have pleasant conversation and laugh without any sniping or arguments for a change. Turesobei met many new goronku, but the names swirled through his mind. The ikase made him fuzzy-headed and a little silly. He found himself laughing far more than he normally would’ve. He didn’t like it. Not at all. A wizard didn’t need addled wits, though he tried to tell himself that there was no danger here and he wasn’t going to need to suddenly cast a spell tonight.

  As they finished eating, Lu Bei landed on the table. He downed a cup of ikase and said, “To the skies again!”

  Turesobei grabbed him by the arm before he could fly off. “Where have you been?”

  “Mingling, master. Mingling. I also went to ask Motekeru if he wanted to join us. Surprisingly —” Lu Bei hiccuped. “He did not.”

  “How many of those have you had?” Enashoma said, poking him in the belly.

  “No poke, Shoma Lady, no poke. I have fastest metabolism. I can handle many few of these.”

  Shaking his head, Turesobei let him go and Lu Bei flew off.

  “If he’s really a book and doesn’t have to eat,” said Kurine, “then how is it he can drink tea and ikase? He doesn’t … you know, go to the bathroom, right?”

  “No, he doesn’t go to the bathroom,” Turesobei said. “As to how he can drink tea and ikase … We’re not really sure. He’s magical. Maybe he burns it off with his crazy antics.”

  “You’ve never asked?” Kurine said, surprised.

  “Of course I have. But he won’t say, and I’ve been nice enough not to order him to.”

  An impeccably dressed woman with a frame that was delicate, for a goronku, approached. “Chonda Turesobei,” she said. “I am Ukiri … Kurine’s mother.”

  Turesobei stood and bowed. “I’m pleased to meet you at last, my lady.”

  She suppressed a giggle. “So well mannered … too mannered for here I’m afraid. Kurine was right, you are handsome.” She poked him in the ribs. “For such a scrawny thing. I apologize for not having met you already, but I have been busier than normal.”

  “The clothes you and Kurine made for us … they are wonderful. Thank you.”

  “Of course. I’m glad and didn’t mind, even if I have been working extra to catch back up to normal production. Come by tomorrow and have dinner with us, okay? I want to get to know you more. I think we’ll likely be seeing a lot of one another for many years to come. Best to get off on the right foot, don’t you think?”

  “Um … of course. Yes.”

  “I really am sorry it took so long for us to finally meet. Well, I am off to bed. Have fun tonight, children.”

  After her mother had vanished, Kurine grabbed his hand. “Come. It’s time to dance.” She drug him a few steps along, then kindly she turned to the others and said, “Everyone. Get moving now.”

  “I don’t really know how to dance,” he said. “I just know one dance. We use it at weddings. It’s slow and formal and not suitable to this sort of music.”

  “Well, dancing’s not hard if you don’t care what you look like when you do it,” Kurine said. “Just move your feet and your hips and your shoulders and bob your head. Here, take my hands and follow my lead.”

  Feeling awkward and looking, he suspected, as if he were about to go into a seizure as he flailed about mostly to the rhythm, Turesobei danced with Kurine for a long time, until Enashoma saved him. He danced with her for a while. Kurine danced with Zaiporo and Iniru danced with Kemsu. That, Turesobei didn’t like. He finally switched to dancing with Iniru but that didn’t last long before Kurine had them switch to a group dance where they passed from one partner to the next in time to the fast-paced music. She taught the dance to them as they went, and for people trained in various martial arts, and Enashoma who knew how to dance already, it wasn’t difficult to pick up. Turesobei messed
up more than the others. He blamed it on the ikase.

  At last the music paused. The Council took over the center of the commons and danced a religious dance honoring the gods and blessing Turesobei. They said goodnight and departed.

  Enashoma and Iniru went to the bathroom while Zaiporo and Kemsu went to get more food. Lu Bei zipped crazily across the room, amusing the goronku as he crashed into many of them. He spotted Turesobei and zipped over to him. He didn’t pull up soon enough and struck Kurine square in the chest.

  “Oh good thanksness, madam,” Lu Bei slurred, “for providing so much a soft landing spots.”

  “Little demon!” she said, slapping him playfully across the cheek. “You’re scandalous.”

  Turesobei grabbed Lu Bei by the back of the neck and said, “Too scandalous. Apologize to Kurine and go to bed.”

  “I’m sorry, my dearest lady,” he said, “future mistress of mine, though I must … I must … I must re — re — reiterate that I’m not a demon. I am a … fetch.”

  “Bed,” Turesobei insisted.

  “No, master. The night yet lives on.”

  “Bed or I call Motekeru to come get you.”

  “You w-wouldn’t d-dare.”

  “Or I could call Enashoma instead. Do you want her to take you to bed? She’d be most disappointed in you.”

  “You are play-play-playing me, master, like a zither with two and a half strings and I do not like it. But fine, you win. I shall go. Happiest birthday and good-goodnight.”

  Turesobei released him. Lu Bei zoomed overhead three times, shouting good night to everyone, then flew down the hallway back toward the room, shooting sparks and crashing into the walls as he went. Laughing heavily, Turesobei leaned into Kurine. Then suddenly he realized they were alone together with no one nearby.

  “Have you enjoyed your birthday?” she murmured.

  “I have,” he replied earnestly. “I really have. This has been amazing. I’ve always been loaded down with responsibility. I’ve had very few chances ever for anything even resembling fun. I will never forget this.”

  “I can make it even better,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in close.

  He muttered something that was supposed to be no back off or I can’t or this is a bad idea or I love Iniru and you’re a nice girl and I like you a lot but not like this. But what came out was just a jumble of random blurts and groans.

  Kurine kissed him.

  He made his first mistake then. He kissed her back. Because it was nice and she was very pretty and sweet and he still hadn’t completely shaken that bit of ikase. Then he made an even bigger mistake. He made the mistake of enjoying it and kept kissing her, for long enough that he lost track of time.

  Something hit him in the back of the head. “Ow!” He spun around. A chunk of meat was lying on the floor. “What in the —”

  Growling, Iniru stepped right up and grabbed him by the collar. “You — are — the — stupidest — boy — ever.”

  “Niru, I —”

  “Don’t Niru me. I can’t believe you would —”

  The doors from the stairway burst open. Narbenu and four goronku scouts entered. One limped in with tattered clothes and a bleeding cut on his cheek. Turesobei didn’t recognize him. But he recognized the look on Narbenu’s face. Fear. The band and everyone in the room fell silent.

  “Someone summon the Council,” Narbenu called out. “Immediately. Turesobei?”

  He stepped forward. “I’m here, Narbenu. What’s wrong?”

  “Sorry to interrupt your party. But we have a terrible problem and not much time to deal with it.”

  Chapter 22

  On the one hand, Turesobei wasn’t bothered by the interruption. It saved him from Iniru’s retribution. On the other hand, the tremor in Narbenu’s voice terrified him. It took a lot rattle a goronku. Even worse was the look of recognition on the face of the strange, injured goronku as he gazed at Turesobei.

  “You’d best come with me to meet the Council,” Narbenu said to Turesobei. “Bring your companions.”

  “Party’s over!” Narbenu called out, managing a measured tone. “This is not an emergency. Don’t be alarmed. But it is an early goodnight to everyone.”

  “Thank you,” Turesobei called out to the guests as he headed toward the hallway that led to the meeting chamber.

  Kurine grabbed his arm. “Is everything all right?”

  “I’m sure it will be,” he said, though he doubted it. “The party was great. I loved it.”

  She beamed a smile at him and started to follow, but Narbenu blocked her. “Sorry, Kurine. Official business.”

  As they marched after Narbenu, Iniru stepped right in behind Turesobei and jabbed him with a finger between his shoulder blades. “Don’t think I’ll ever forget,” she whispered.

  They gathered in the chamber and several minutes later the councilors hurried in without ceremony and took their seats. Some looked bleary-eyed from having just been awoken. There were no cushions for Turesobei and his companions so they had to stand.

  “Narbenu, what’s the matter and who is this with you?” asked War Chief Sudorga.

  The battered goronku bowed and pulled out an amulet made from a giant tooth with a rune carved into it. “I am Hufu from Eastfall.”

  Earth Priestess Faika stepped forward. She touched the tooth and then his forehead. “You are as you claim, ranger. Be welcome here. And tell us what you have seen for you have traveled far if you came from Eastfall.”

  “Respected elders, I come bearing strange and terrible news. The yomon are on the march, heading in this direction. When I met Narbenu and told him the news, he bade me come here at once.”

  “You did the right thing,” War Chief Sudorga said.

  “I have seen the yomon myself,” said Hufu, “as have several other rangers. We have been traveling swiftly as we can to warn everyone in their path. The yomon are looking for a dragon made of storm clouds, a beast which many saw pass through the late afternoon skies five weeks ago. They are also looking for a wizard boy and his companions. Somehow, they are connected with this dragon.” Hufu turned to Turesobei and his companions. “The yomon’s descriptions are incredibly accurate.”

  “I am the Storm Dragon,” Turesobei said. “Or I was anyway. We battled the yomon and kept them from entering our world, but the Winter Gate closed again and trapped us here. I was hoping they would never search for me. That they’d be too afraid to do so and have nothing to gain by a confrontation.”

  “Afraid of you?” Hufu asked, confused.

  “I killed at least a dozen of them.”

  “You — You killed a — a dozen?” Hufu stammered.

  “When I was the Storm Dragon, yes.”

  “That explains why there are fewer of them,” Hufu replied. “But there’s more to it.” He peered at Turesobei and then Enashoma. “They are led by a witch smeared with blood. She’s ill-dressed for the cold but it doesn’t bother her, as if she were a reitsu. But she looks like the two of you, just as tall but with a powerful build for a woman and an almost … Well, I only saw her from far away, but I’d say she had a demonic cast about her.”

  “That — that can’t be Awasa,” Turesobei said. “She’s only as tall as Enashoma, and she’s dainty.”

  “Well,” continued Hufu, “that’s what she calls herself. I met with people from the village that they had just ravaged, interrogating the populace for knowledge about you. The survivors said she called herself Ninefold Awasa, leader of the Eighty-Eight Yomon.”

  Turesobei staggered back and collapsed onto the floor, grabbing his head. “No, no, no,” he muttered. “This is even worse.”

  “So you do know her?” Hufu said.

  “Awasa is his betrothed,” Iniru said. “Well, his other betrothed at least. The first one. It’s a long story.”

  Turesobei groaned. Awasa was still alive but somehow bigger and demonic? And she was coming after him. He was doomed.

  “You’re b
etrothed to a witch?” Hufu asked, incredulously.

  “She — She wasn’t like this before,” Enashoma said, distantly, almost in shock. “She was a normal aristocratic girl, about my size, not a monster … well not actually demonic anyway.”

  Turesobei gathered his composure and stood. “The short of it is, she became corrupted by a warlock named Barakaros. He was one of the Deadly Twelve. We prevented them from releasing the yomon and eternal winter onto our world, but when the gate closed, we ended up on the wrong side. Were her eyes purple? Was there an amulet around her neck?”

  “Yes,” Hufu replied. “She also had an eight-pointed star on her forehead.”

  “It’s possible that Barakaros the Warlock yet lives … inside of her,” said Turesobei. “Or that an echo of his power has taken root and corrupted her soul. It makes sense that she would want to capture me, and probably kill my companions.”

  “She carries a strange sword as well. The blade is almost white.”

  “Sumada,” Turesobei replied. “My father’s white-steel sword. Incredibly powerful, incredibly rare.” Turesobei turned to the Council. “If Awasa is leading them in this direction, they will find us. My companions and I must leave. As soon as possible. We will leave with what we have and make the best of it we can. I won’t risk any harm to your people.”

  Tsuroko glanced at his fellow councilors. “We could hide you here and lie when they come. We could tell them we saw you heading off. Then we could lock ourselves in. To fight their way in, even for the yomon, would be difficult and not worth it.”

  The other council members nodded.

  “I am truly grateful for that offer,” Turesobei said. “Honestly, you have no idea how warm it makes me feel for you to offer to defend us. But there’s a strong chance that Awasa will be able to sense me once she arrives. Besides, my presence here is already known.”

  “Only by me,” said Hufu. “I could stay here until they were gone, to keep your secret.”

  “No,” said Iniru. “He means the reitsu. If the yomon reach the reitsu, they will surely tell them. They have reason to hate Turesobei. They’d tell gladly.”

  “I must go,” Turesobei repeated. “How much time do we have, Hufu?”