by Jada Fisher
When she pulled on the door, it didn’t budge. Not surprising, as she was a scrawny thing. She stepped back and gripped her staff in both hands. “Semla,” she said, a spell for opening things. Nothing. She tried again with a variation, “Semleki,” meaning to unlock. Still, nothing happened. Bishta frowned.
“Munla,” she called. The air rippled behind her and her gigantic, mossy-skinned friend appeared. He groaned a greeting, his burning red eyes like dying embers blinking at her. Bishta pointed to the door. “Could you be a dear and open this for me?”
The spirit nodded. Bishta gave him a wide berth since he was so large. He grabbed both door handles and pulled.
Nothing. Not a peep or a creak or anything. The sage grimaced and cursed. “Come on, you stupid thing!” She gripped her staff so tight that her knuckles turned white. “Ish kek cool por goleq,” she said, trying the same ward breaking spell she’d used on the Bridge of Memories. After almost a minute and several recitals of the spell, Bishta dropped her arms to her sides and shouted.
“Damn you!” she cried and chucked her staff against the door. It pinged and recoiled harmlessly.
“That’s not going to work, I’m afraid,” said a pair of voices in unison behind her. Bishta flinched and yelped. Her cheeks burned. She didn’t like being surprised and didn’t appreciate anyone seeing her in such a state.
She whirled around to find the culprits. And gasped. Standing—no, hovering—before her were twin spirits. Wait, it was one spirit, but it had two heads. It was long and slender and glowed blue with long, flowing robes that fluttered around it like fog. And its heads…a snake, a cobra as large as her torso. The other, an eagle head, with a beak that could impale her. Two sets of eyes, unblinking, stared down at her.
Bishta licked her lips. “Who are you?”
They smiled, which was odd looking. “We are the guardian of this place, Aga-Kalar. Why have you come to this place? It is forgotten for a reason, fleshling.”
Bishta straightened. “I am Bishta the Black, Sage of the Dark. I seek entrance to your great library. I seek knowledge and guidance.”
Aga-Kalar cocked its heads. “What knowledge do you wish to obtain?”
“That isn’t your concern, spirit.” She said that last bit with a bite that the guardian no doubt picked up on. Probably unwise on her part, but Bishta didn’t like dealing with their kind. If they were angry, they didn’t show it. Instead, Aga-Kalar chuckled, a low rumble that made Bishta’s skin itch.
“All are welcome to find the knowledge they seek, if they can answer our riddle.”
Bishta rolled her eyes and stifled a groan. “Fine, spirit. Give me your best.”
Another chuckle that grated on her ears. Then they spoke together:
What is greater than gods,
more evil than the demons,
the poor have it,
the rich need it,
and if you eat it, you'll die?
The sage frowned at the spirit. “This is really the only way in?”
“The magics at work here can withstand any spell or incantation. The knowledge of the world lies within. Knowledge is power. Knowledge is dangerous. It must be safeguarded to the fullest measure. So, do you wish to answer the riddle?”
Bishta groaned. She had no choice. Riddles and wordplay and things of that nature weren’t her strong suit. She was smart, but these clever brainteasers weren’t something she cared to learn. Now, it came back to bite her.
Maybe it was simple, maybe it wasn’t, but Bishta didn’t have the time to play these games with a spirit. She had the answers within her, she just had to find them. It was time to consult her past lives, delve into the nearly-endless library of knowledge that dwelled deep within her.
She sat crossed-legged, took a deep breath to center herself, pounded her fists together, and closed her eyes. Another deep breath, then she concentrated and emptied her mind. And she was off.
Thousands of years of memories flooded her mind, thousands of years of knowledge and experience of the past Sages of the Dark, whose powers and memories Bishta now inherited, as it was for all sages. She’d sifted through this bank countless times, but there was so much there, so clear and vivid, but so vast.
She knew she could do this, though. She pictured the library and then it appeared amidst the memories. Bright, new, not covered in vines and crumbling from the ravages of time. There was Aga-Kalar, same as they stood before her now. Bishta settled into the memory. It was hard to tell how old it was, but it had to be centuries.
Her past life sought to enter the library as well, requesting passage, though a lot politer than she had. And moment of truth… The guardian spirit gave its riddle, and it was the same one! Ha, what luck! One would think that a spirit of knowledge would vary its riddles, but then, maybe so few found their way here that it didn’t matter? For how many could get through the barrier around Paralea anyway?
Once she heard the answer in her memory, Bishta opened her eyes, the memories melting away and back to reality. Aga-Kalar waited patiently, arms crossed, four eyes staring down at her. Bishta grabbed her staff and stood, using it as a crutch to help her up. Aga-Kalar looked at her expectantly.
“Do you have the answer?”
“Nothing,” she said with a wicked smile. “The answer is Nothing.”
Aga-Kalar stood frozen for a moment. She couldn’t tell if they were upset. They didn’t show any emotion otherwise until they smirked. “Very good. You may proceed, Sage Bishta. We hope you find what you are looking for.”
The spirit inclined their heads and faded into the door of the library, evaporating until there was nothing. Then there was a hum that made Bishta’s ears pop. She covered them on instinct, but realized that was the magic coming down to allow her passage. The massive doors unlocked with a click and swung open with an ominous groan.
Bishta sighed and steeled herself. It was time to get to work.
The inside of the library took her breath away. Stacks of books three stories high with ladders and stairs leading all over. Rows upon rows of texts going in either direction. Hundreds of rows. She walked between the main rows of three-story stacks until she came to a guardrail and looked down.
The library went down another ten levels at least, the hub being a large circular chamber. Bishta was at a loss for words. As she studied each level, she noted that there were doorways that led off to gods-knew-where. Other wings? This place was beyond immense, it was otherworldly. The library was legendary, but she hadn’t expected this.
Light streamed in through skylights built into the vaulted ceilings. Where the light couldn’t illuminate, torches and sconces were lit, as well as chandeliers. Must be magical, undying flames, because she doubted there was anyone here to maintain the light. The contrast of light and shadow made everything seem even larger.
She had no idea how to find what she wanted. One could get lost in this labyrinth and never see the light of day again. As much as Bishta wouldn’t have minded that fate ordinarily, because she could die happy reading all these books until the end of her days, she had a mission and it couldn’t be delayed.
It took a moment for her to ponder a solution before she thought of something. She cupped her hands over her mouth. “Hello? Aga-Kalar? Can you assist me?”
Perhaps it was a foolish request, but she knew guardian spirits often had multiple responsibilities. Hopefully, this one did as well.
“We can assist you,” the spirit said, suddenly behind her. Even though she had a feeling they were coming, Bishta still couldn’t keep herself from nearly jumping out of her skin. I need to get better at controlling myself, she thought with a scowl.
She composed herself, smoothing the seams of her cloak. “Yes, good.”
Aga-Kalar was a helpful host now that she’d gained entry, she had to admit. They showed her to the section she was looking for: demons, old gods, and how to commune with and summon them. Not exactly common knowledge. Summoning and controlling spirits was easy and straightforwar
d and something that almost any sage could do. But demons, real demons from the other planes, was another matter all-together. They were entities of pure malice and destruction, and controlling them wasn’t easy.
But Bishta intended to do it anyway.
If Aga-Kalar had an opinion on the subject matter she was interested in, they didn’t voice it, which was fine by her. She didn’t want to know and she didn’t care about what they had to say.
They waved their arms and muttered something, a spell that she couldn’t make out. All of a sudden, she was lifted off her feet. It felt like she was underwater, floating, weightless, free. She and the spirit hovered over the ten-story pit of books and shelves and slowly descended all the way to the bottom. Down here, the shadows of the top levels blocked out the light from the skylights above, so only the sconces lit the way, dark and moody.
There were four doorways. Once her feet were back on the ground, Aga-Kalar motioned to the one directly across from Bishta. “The answers you seek are that way.”
“Thank you,” she said, and was actually sincere. Then the guardian spirit inclined their heads and faded away again, leaving her to her devices.
Bishta spent forever in the library poring over the books, searching for the answers she sought. She learned so much of what she wanted, and even more on things she had no interest in. And yet there was more still, so much more, impossibly more. It was doubtful she could ask Aga-Kalar for help because she wasn’t even certain what it was that she needed. She had an idea, of course. She knew what she wanted to do to achieve her goals, but some of the specifics alluded her.
But when the hours had grown long and her eyes began to grow weary, she found the perfect book, filled with everything she could ever want.
“Tes’leve Ikkon,” she said, reading the title. Treatises on the Dark, Spirits, and the Other Planes. She read one page, two, a hundred, and then almost the whole thing in several hours, her eyes wide and smile wider. Yes, this… This was what she needed.
The hours turned to night. She took notes on some scrolls she found and stuffed them into her pack. She was about to pack the book as well, but then she thought better of it.
“Aga-Kalar?” she called. With a breath, she braced herself for their inevitable appearance.
“How may we serve?” they said suddenly behind her. Bishta flinched again, but it wasn’t so bad.
Composing herself, she turned to them, though she was sure she looked a mess after her journey and the many sleepless nights and endless walking. Oh, how she needed a bath.
“Am I allowed to take a book with me once I leave this place?”
“No, you may not. All pieces must remain in the library. Attempting to steal from the library will have dire consequences.”
She’d expected as much. It would be too easy if she could just take anything she wanted with her, wouldn’t it? Of course, in the libraries of Al-Sevara and Masrataa, the wealthy could check out books and return them, though the knowledge there was a lot less dangerous than what she had before her.
“Okay, thank you, spirit,” she said with a nod. The guardian whisked away. There was no need to worry. She knelt and held her staff in her lap as she reread the book. She cast a memorization spell that would allow her to remember every last word. Some people had natural perfect memories, but she did not. Fortunately, magic had a solution to almost all problems.
Once she was through, she placed the book back amongst its kin and exited the stacks of dark books.
From there, she knew what to do. Deep within her Sage memories, she knew of a portal in the depths of the library that would take her away. She didn’t know where it would take her, but she’d figure it out when she got there. Walking back through the Forest of the Forgotten and to the Bridge of Memories didn’t appeal to her.
Back in the main chamber, with the twelve floors of knowledge looming over her, she took the doorway to her left. It led to a stairway that led her down into the darkest, coldest, dampest depths of the library. The lower she went, the more she realized that this was an ancient place, older even than the library built above it. There were places of primordial power all throughout the world, and this was one of them.
At the bottom of the stairs, she came to a large, dark room made of rock. When her first step hit the floor, torches of blue flame burst to life all around her. It was then she realized that this wasn’t rock, but pure, raw obsidian. Beautiful.
In the center of the room was a tall archway made of the same obsidian. The portal. Portals were ancient magical tunnels that connected to another somewhere in the world. They were always in pairs, and one could only travel between the two. There used to be many such portals, but over the millennia, they’d been lost to time and human idiocy. Now, there were only a few left and here was one.
It was dormant, but Bishta knew how to awaken it.
Bishta strode up to it. Like most portals, it towered over her once she stood before it. At three times her height, it almost reached the rocky ceiling. She put her hand against the cold, smooth, glassy stone. Obsidian was a rare, magical rock, and thus was used in many ancient structures that had magical protections.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The damp, earthy air down there filled her lungs. It tasted like magic, like ancient secrets. Her lips curled into a grin. She loved it.
One hand on the portal and the other on her staff, she centered herself and spoke. “Sama tu lys ursu.”
The earth trembled beneath her. Bits of rock and dust rained from the ceiling, but only for a moment, before the dormant cracks and veins of the obsidian suddenly flared to life with pale green light. As she backed up, the empty space between the archway rippled like a pebble dropped in water. The air became foggy and green until an image appeared in the portal: the other side.
What she saw was a dark cave with only distant orange light flooding in from above. She had no way of knowing what awaited her through the portal, but whatever awaited her, Bishta the Black could handle it.
I can handle anything this world throws at me, just as I always have.
And she had suffered greatly for the things she’d overcome, but soon all those things would be put right. Everything would be put right.
Jaw clenched, she was ready. She dismissed Munla, as spirits couldn’t go through portals. Then, with brows furrowed and a wicked grin gleaming, Bishta cracked her knuckles, shouldered her pack over the ratty black wool of her cloak, and stepped into the portal.
3
Tuni
The air was filled with raucous laughter as the poor gentleman recoiled from the surprise kiss of Tuni Teal-eye. Playful spirits of all the colors of the rainbow hung about and squealed and laughed with glee. The man, though Tuni had to guess he was more boy than man, was wiping his lips with the back of his hand. His inherent disgust only made Tuni’s smile grow wider and her giggles more joyous.
The young man’s name was Armal and up until that point, he had appeared to Tuni as a rather innocent and naïve city boy that didn’t know a thing about the treacherous world in which he lived. Tuni came across him as he was being accosted by harmless but nonetheless intimidating tree folk. Tuni drove them off by speaking to them in spirit tongue. They left without incident.
Armal, though grateful for her help, obviously saw her as a savage. He questioned everything she did for him all day and used such an annoying, condescending tone that at several times, she had the strongest urge to bring him to the top of the tallest mushroom and chuck him over the edge. But she did not, for Tuni had far more fun teasing him.
The kiss was the final straw. Tuni suspected that most of the lavish men of Al-Sevara would enjoy being doted on by a girl like her, but Armal did not. She’d flirted with him constantly all day, gently caressing him whenever she had the chance and saying the most provocative things to him. Then, when she saw her window of opportunity open, she snatched a kiss from his handsomely-bearded face.
He accused her of being a witch and a seductress a
nd then ran away from her and disappeared deep into the Mushroom Wilds.
A small, yellow spirit that resembled a fox with butterfly wings floated down and landed on Tuni’s golden skin. It spoke in a high-pitched voice. “Are you just going to allow him to walk away?”
Tuni smiled down at the cute spirit. “Yeah. He was annoying anyway.”
Another spirit flew and plopped down on top of Tuni’s golden-brown hair. This one was round and purple and had red eyes. “You know he may well die out there.” The spirit’s voice was thick with the accent of northern spirits and very raspy.
Tuni shrugged off the thought. “He made his choice.” The fact that he may die would have weighed heavily on her heart in the past, but she’d grown out of the sentiments of pity and guilt long ago. She tried to save those that were lost in the vast expanses of the Spirit Wilds when she could, even though it went against everything she was taught in her village. She had long come to realize that she couldn’t help everyone, though, and that indeed not everyone wanted her help.
For what was she but a mere girl?
Gripping her bow, Tuni left her spirit friends behind and began her trek home. Without looking, she could sense the spirits disappear and fade into the landscape. She wished she could use that trick, but sadly, she was only human.
Tuni’s progress was slow as she had to navigate the dangers that the wilds presented to those who sought to traverse it. First, she had to hide in the roots of an overturned mushroom from a couple of butterwasps, with their massive wings kicking up gusts of dusty wind and their leg-length stingers glinting in the sunlight. Then, she was nearly trampled by a stampeding herd of elephant beetles.
She should have heard them coming from a mile away, but her thoughts were elsewhere, as they usually were. Tuni’s mind constantly wandered and on so many occasions, her wandering imagination had gotten her into trouble and almost gotten her and her friends killed. She tried her best at times, but she was so easily amused, and the simplest things always seemed to distract her. Tuni was getting better at controlling her attention though, through a lot of trial and error.
