The Forbidden Library

by David Alastair Hayden

  Zaiporo and Enashoma both took out star-stones and tapped them to full strength, holding them out with one hand, protected from their heat by their gloves. Those stones and a dim, waning Zhura was all the light they had. The group raced blindly along the coast. Turesobei kept glancing back toward their former camp with his kenja-sight open. Now that he’d encountered the beasts, he felt certain he could see them coming based solely on the energy currents. He didn’t see anything, but he still thought it best to keep riding.

  “I don’t think they’re following, but let’s ride a little further inland to set up camp.”

  A half-hour later, they stopped on a small rise.

  Iniru took charge. “We make one big snowhouse and we all get in it and block the entrance. Just in case those things are persistent.”

  Narbenu started to complain, but Turesobei interrupted him. “I don’t care about your rules. Not tonight. If you like, we can … hang some blankets to make separate sections. Good enough?”

  Narbenu grumbled but nodded. “Given the circumstances.”

  Motekeru dismounted and set down the wolfhounds. Both were conscious but groaning in pain. Turesobei knelt over them. Not a single fur was singed. The bites from the orugukagi were puckered and oozing puss but already showed signs of healing.

  “Motekeru, are the hounds indestructible?”

  “They seem almost like spirit beasts themselves, master. Impervious to many things. I don’t know the full extent of their powers. Chonda Lu hid them away before my time.”

  “Maybe we’ll figure it out one day,” Turesobei said. “Motekeru, when the snowhouse is finished, you will block us in and guard the mounts.”

  Motekeru plunged his claws into the ice to begin cutting a block. “It will be done, master.”

  Turesobei checked on Kurine. Kemsu had taken her from the mount and laid her atop some blankets. Turesobei bent down and placed his lips on her forehead.

  “Fever has set in,” he lamented.

  “How … how long does she have?” Kemsu asked.

  Turesobei tried to recall every detail he’d studied about the orugukagi. Turned out Grandfather Kahenan’s instance on him memorizing beast after beast wasn’t pointless. “Complete paralyzation first, then fever sets in, followed by a coma. Then …” The words choked in his throat. “A day … at the most.” Not again. He couldn’t lose another. “But I can cast spells as soon as my voice returns properly.”

  “You can heal her?” Kemsu said with hope.

  Turesobei shook his head. “I can delay the poison and counter the effects. There’s no spell that can heal her. All I can do is delay the inevitable for a week … maybe two.” He touched Kurine’s cheek tenderly. “Unless we find a cure somewhere …”

  Kemsu shoved him. “This is your fault!”

  “How is this my fault?” Turesobei replied. “Did I ask for demons to attack us?”

  “She’s your betrothed,” Kemsu snapped. “She’s your responsibility.”

  “There was nothing I could do. The beasts popped out from a hole in the ground. I can’t predict the future.”

  Kemsu stepped up and got in his face. “Everything you touch gets ruined. I’ve seen it. You drug your sister to our bleak world and nearly got her and your — girlfriend, whatever Iniru is to you — killed. And your former betrothed is some sort of demon-witch. You come here and you expect to have Kurine along with Iniru. You accepted Kurine’s kiss without warning her what being around you means. You came to our village and you ruined everything. Now you’ve gotten Kurine killed.”

  “I think you need to calm down,” Turesobei said.

  Kemsu shoved him back again and threw a punch. With a solid thump, his fist struck Turesobei in the jaw. Turesobei fell hard on the ice, stunned for a moment. As Turesobei stood, Kemsu threw another punch. His fist never reached Turesobei.

  A clawed hand caught Kemsu by the forearm. Eyes blazing bright, Motekeru lifted Kemsu off the ground and held him up in the air by his arm. He twisted Kemsu so they could see one another eye-to-eye.

  “I can break you, boy,” Motekeru said menacingly.

  “You wouldn’t,” Kemsu said, wincing with pain as Motekeru’s grip crushed into his forearm. “And I’m no boy.”

  “I have killed hundreds, thousands maybe. What’s one more boy? And you are a boy. I know because you act like one. And soon, you may be a broken boy.”

  The others gathered around, but no one dared say anything. Not even Narbenu would speak up. Lu Bei crawled out of Turesobei’s pack, limping and fussy.

  “Do it,” the fetch said. “Mutinous brat deserves it.”

  “Master,” Motekeru said, “shall I break him? I would delight in eating the heart out of his chest.”

  Everyone looked to Turesobei. Heart pounding, anger searing, he glared at Kemsu. Turesobei wiped the blood from his lip. The storm sigil on his cheek was burning.

  Chapter 39

  “Let him go,” Turesobei said.

  Motekeru threw Kemsu at Turesobei’s feet.

  Clenching and unclenching his fists, Turesobei loomed over Kemsu. “You have no idea the cost of the sacrifices I’ve made for those I love. You have no idea what all of us had to endure to save our world and my people. Do you think that was easy? Do you think such a thing comes without a price?”

  Kemsu, shaking, got up. Turesobei grabbed him by the collar. The storm sigil burned even hotter on his cheek now. “Do you really understand what I’m capable of? I don’t need Motekeru. I can consume you myself anytime I wish.”

  Enashoma threw herself between them.

  “Time to calm down, big brother. We don’t need you to turn into a dragon just to teach Kemsu a lesson.” Turesobei glared at her until she touched his cheek. “Sobei, none of what happened was your fault. Kemsu … he’s just upset about Kurine, and he’s a long way from home now, just like we are. We’re all under a lot of pressure. Let it go.”

  “Sobei, Kemsu,” Iniru said. “Drop it. You’re not helping anyone. We have to stick together.”

  “Fine,” Turesobei sighed. “It’s over. It’s done.”

  “I’ll start on the snowhouse,” Kemsu muttered, and he stalked over to his mount, drew a knife, and knelt on the ice. But he shook so badly that he couldn’t even manage a simple cut.

  Anger drained out Turesobei. He went over to Kemsu and apologized. “I’m sorry,” he said simply. What more could he say? It took all he could do to manage that.

  “Kurine …” Kemsu whispered. “She’s my … my oldest … friend. And … whatever. It’s over.”

  “Are we okay now?” Turesobei asked.

  “Sure,” Kemsu replied dully. “Whatever.”

  Turesobei approached Narbenu. “I’m sorry about that. It was uncalled for.”

  “What Kemsu did was uncalled for as well.” Narbenu shot Kemsu an angry glance. “He did start it after all. But thank you for apologizing, and for your restraint. The dragon … I saw it remember? I can’t imagine what all you must be holding in.”

  “Thank you for understanding,” Turesobei responded.

  He sat down beside Kurine. He was thankful she’d hadn’t seen any of that. He’d keep his dignity with someone at least. She was Kemsu’s oldest friend … when had they stopped being close? When he became a slave? When the goronku rules started making it hard for boys and girls to spend any time together? He had a feeling they’d had a major falling out, but neither of them spoke about it.

  Enashoma scolded Lu Bei. “I don’t care if you are hurt and miserable, you should not have encouraged him. Sobei nearly dragoned-out on us.”

  “I didn’t encourage Master, my lady,” Lu Bei whined. “I encouraged Motekeru.”

  “You needed to diffuse the situation,” Enashoma continued. “But you made it worse. Don’t do that again.”

  “I’m sorry, Lady Shoma.” Lu Bei bowed. “Forgive me. I’m very protective of Master is all.”

  Enashoma wasn’t finished. She marched over to Motekeru who was cutting
ice and thumped him on the chest with her forefinger. He stood up and she faced him, staring into his eyes. “We do not break our companions or eat their hearts. Even when they do stupid things. You got that?”

  The two of them stood face-to-face for several tense moments. Turesobei was prepared to give Motekeru an order immediately if necessary. Motekeru moved forward … and took Enashoma into a hug.

  “You have a good soul,” Motekeru told Enashoma.

  She laughed. “Thank you, Motekeru.”

  The machine man leaned down and whispered something to her that Turesobei couldn’t hear. Whatever it was it delighted Enashoma. She kissed him on his bronze cheek.

  “We lost some supplies and blankets in our snowhouse,” Iniru said as she sorted through the gear on the mounts. “Not a lot, but everything out here counts.”

  As Turesobei and Narbenu sat with Kurine while everyone else worked on the double-sized snowhouse, Turesobei began to feel embarrassed about what he’d said and done. He sighed and shook his head.

  “I really am sorry, Narbenu. I feel like an idiot now. I hope you won’t think less of me.”

  Narbenu chuckled. “Aside from Motekeru and the dragon in you, it really wasn’t a big deal.”

  “It wasn’t?” Turesobei asked in surprise.

  “Hardly the first time two boys got in a fight over a girl,” Narbenu said. “Well, in this case a fight over two girls. These things happen, even when people aren’t under stress. You’re a good lad. Kemsu’s a good lad. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I guess … I guess you’re right.”

  Turesobei noticed then that his voice was a lot clearer. Adrenaline from the encounter with Kemsu had driven the toxin out of his system. He cast the spell of the moon mirrors successfully and that made finishing the snowhouse go a lot faster. Once inside, to placate Narbenu’s rigid standards, they strung two blankets through the middle. But Turesobei started out on the girl’s side so he could tend to Kurine.

  “We’ve got to get some of these clothes off her,” he said. “She’s sweating.”

  Enashoma removed all but Kurine’s inner shirt and pants. The wound on her shoulder had turned purple and oozed puss that already smelled of decay. Acid had burned the skin all around it, and she had several burns on her arms as well, though those would heal without any problems.

  “What do we do now?” Enashoma asked.

  “We need to clean the wound and draw out as much poison as we can,” Iniru said. She dipped a cloth in ice water and began washing the wound, holding her head away occasionally due to the smell.

  Enashoma sponged Kurine’s forehead, then she combed out Kurine’s hair and braided it to the side away from the wound. “Are you sure there’s not a cure?”

  “There is one,” Turesobei said, “in our world. But the plants I’d need only grow in the hotter regions of the rainforest. They’d never survive in this cold.”

  Enashoma chocked back a sob. “So she … she’s going to —”

  “We’re not giving up hope,” Turesobei said. “I can keep her alive long enough for us to reach the Forbidden Library. Hopefully there we can find a way to cure her.”

  Turesobei meditated and tried to tame his emotions. Healing spells should never be done in anger or distress or they wouldn’t work well. And he needed this to work or Kurine would die. But he was having a lot of trouble calming down. The attack and the fight with Kemsu had riled him up too much.

  “Sobei, we’re changing her shirt out for a dry one,” Shoma said. “Close your eyes. No peeking.”

  As they changed Kurine’s shirt he thought back to his first meeting with her and how she wanted to see him naked and kept teasing him and even tried to sneak in a look. He could return the gesture now. He had the advantage. Not that he would, even if she was well. Though he was fairly certain she would’ve peeked on him, provided he wasn’t dying. He smiled, and the anger left him.

  “Okay,” Iniru said. She frowned at him. “Why are you smiling like that?”

  “Sobei,” Shoma challenged. “You didn’t peek, did you?”

  “Of course not. I was just thinking about when I met Kurine. I was getting myself into a happier place mentally so I can do a healing spell.”

  He chanted the spell of poison drawing, putting everything he could muster into it. A pulse of energy left his palms and formed a bubble over the wound on her shoulder. The tiny bubble filled up with all the toxin it could get out of her system. With something less deadly, especially if the spell had been cast immediately, that’s all it would’ve taken. But this stuff raced into the system far too quickly to be completely drawn out, and in Kurine’s case it had had far too long to set in. With the bubble hovering over his hands, he went outside and tossed it away. Motekeru sealed them inside the icehouse after that.

  Turesobei caught his breath and cast the spell of winter healing on Kurine. He sagged at the end, but Iniru caught him.

  Kurine’s eyelids fluttered and opened. “Sobei,” she whispered, grabbing his hand weakly.

  “I’m here.”

  “You’re … okay?”

  “I’m fine. We’re all safe. We got away. The kagi poisoned you, but I’ll get you cured.”

  “I know … you will … I know … because … you’re amazing and … you love …”

  Kurine drifted off into sleep.

  Chapter 40

  A sumptuous feast of berries, goat cheese, and honeyed rice cakes lay spread out on a table beneath a cedar gazebo. Tea steamed in two bowls on opposite sides of the table, and in the center sat an iron kettle and a bowl of loose tealeaves. Sunlight sparkled on the stream that splashed over a rockfall and into the pond surrounding the tiny island on which the gazebo stood. A warm breeze carried the scents of jasmine and mimosa.

  Dressed in his finest emerald robes, his hair tied neatly into a braid, his skin clean, his body rested and injury-free, Turesobei knelt at the table. He bit into a fresh strawberry, and as the sweet juice flowed over his tongue, he sighed contentedly. He’d never been so happy before … so relaxed. He didn’t have a single worry in his life.

  Footsteps crunched delicately along a gravel path. Awasa, carrying an umbrella, her face lost in the shadows beneath it, stepped onto the bridge that led across the pond to the island. She wore robes of lilac, matching her deep plum eyes, over inner robes of palest pink. Ivory pins held her blue-black hair in a bun, save for two strands that framed her heart-shaped face. She stepped into the gazebo, folded up her umbrella, and set it to the side. She was taller than he had remembered. Her hips had widened. Her breasts had grown larger. Funny, how on earth could he have forgotten those details? He had seen her yesterday.

  Turesobei stood and bowed. Awasa turned her pale face up toward him. Enticing, extraordinarily crimson lips peeled into a smile revealing sharp, bright teeth. She met his eyes and suppressed a giggle.

  “May I?” she said, gesturing toward the table.

  “Please.”

  She knelt across from him and bit, daintily, into a strawberry. The juice dribbled down her chin. She wiped it away with a laugh.

  “Wasa, you are the most beautiful thing in all the world,” he said.

  “Silly,” she replied, delightfully. “I am so happy Sobei. Just think. This time tomorrow, we shall be married. And tomorrow night …” Blushing, she took up her tea bowl and glanced coyly away.

  “Tomorrow …” he said, sipping a strong, almost bitter, black tea. “Married?”

  “Tell me you haven’t forgotten, Sobei? How could you?”

  “I — I don’t know. Probably …”

  “You’ve been working too hard?”

  “Probably.”

  “Remember, you promised me you wouldn’t work as hard once we were married. Not the first year or two at least. Kahenan is still strong. He can manage without you there all the time.”

  Turesobei nodded and bit into a honeyed rice cake. It was almost heaven. “Oh, I’ve missed good food so much.”

  “Missed it
? How could you miss it? What do you two eat in the tower?”

  “Well … I guess … I guess if I’ve been eating poorly then I have been busy. Though I can’t remember what we’re working on.” He was starting to feel disoriented. Why was he so forgetful? Had he overdone a spell and dazed himself?

  “You know what I think?” Awasa said. “I think you have wedding jitters.”

  “Really?” He wasn’t about to tell her, but that didn’t make sense. He couldn’t even recall having set a date for their wedding.

  “Shoma told me so when we had tea this morning.”

  “You two are getting along?” he said with surprise.

  “Of course we are. We’re going to be sisters soon. Sobei, you know, I love you, even if you are spacey sometimes.”

  Awasa finished her tea. She leaned forward to scoop fresh tealeaves into her bowl. Her robes fell open far enough to reveal a mark on her chest — a raised tattoo of an eight-pointed star the color of a dark bruise, a shade that matched her lilac robes and her deep plum eyes.

  But since when had her eyes been that shade of purple? Why did she have a tattoo? That was hardly acceptable. How could she have gotten one?

  Awasa sat back and gave him a curious stare. “Turesobei, are you all right?”

  Now that he focused on her harder, he felt, like a whisper across his skin, a pulse of magic … violent, chaotic. Awasa’s skin was not the creamy pale he had first thought but the pale of one lost forever in night, or one returned from the dead. And on her forehead, faint but growing more noticeable, was a tattoo that matched the one on her chest. Thick veins rose along her temples and forehead. Her features sharpened. Was that — was that specks of blood in her hair?

  He opened his kenja-sight.

  “Sobei!” she exclaimed as his eyes turned milky-white. “Don’t! Please, don’t.”

  Awasa blazed with sinister magic — magic that he knew, that he had fought — the magic of Barakaros the Warlock, leader of the Deadly Twelve. He chanted the spell of dream breaking and Ninefold Awasa, the blood-smeared, terrifying witch that used to be his betrothed appeared across the table from him.