Longfang

by Mark Robson

  He set off with a sense of purpose in his stride. Kira and Nolita glanced at one another and shrugged at precisely the same moment. Kira’s lips twitched into a smile. She found the library intimidating and felt out of her depth, but Nolita’s simultaneous reaction to the scholar’s enthusiasm for the books made her relax.

  ‘Can you read?’ she whispered.

  Nolita looked at her with surprise. ‘No. I assumed you could.’

  ‘I’m a hunter. What would I know about reading books?’

  Their smiles broadened as the irony of their situation sank in. Here they were, surrounded by the largest collection of information in the known world, and neither of them could read a word. They moved to follow the old scholar.

  ‘Let’s hope Kalen knows what he’s doing,’ Nolita whispered.

  At the end of the next bookcase was an open area with half a dozen large tables surrounded by upright wooden chairs. Several scholars sat at the table with books and scrolls spread across the surface. One or two of them glanced up at the new arrivals, but quickly settled their attention back to their work. Kalen seated himself at an empty table, opened the cover of the big black book and began thumbing through the pages.

  Kira and Nolita sat either side of him. The lines of curious symbols on the creamy yellow pages meant nothing to them, but they held the girls’ attention as Kalen flicked through page after page of them. Occasionally there were beautiful line illustrations, which Kira found particularly interesting.

  As the minutes slid by, the unintelligible text lost its allure and Kira found her mind wandering. She looked up and discovered that Nolita was also restless, looking around the Grand Library for something to pass the time.

  The silence in the huge chamber thickened. Kira gave an involuntary shiver. It felt almost as though a malevolent spirit inhabited the library, lurking amongst the labyrinth of bookcases. The atmosphere was close and oppressive, as if a thunderstorm were about to unleash its fury within the enormous arching dome above. Her hunter’s sense was tingling and her eyes scanned the surrounding bookcases with growing nervousness.

  ‘Pah!’ Kalen said suddenly, startling both Kira and Nolita and instantly dispelling the growing sense of impending disaster. He gave a snort of disgust and snapped the heavy book shut with a thump. ‘Nothing! We’ll have to look elsewhere.’

  ‘Um . . . Kalen?’ Kira began in a soft voice.

  ‘Yes?’ he replied absently. His brow furrowed as his mind concentrated on where to look next.

  ‘Is there anywhere that Nolita and I might be able to get something to eat and drink?’

  ‘In the Grand Library!’ Kalen said, looking shocked. ‘Most certainly not! The books here are priceless. Food and drink are never allowed inside for fear of the damage they might cause.’

  ‘I don’t want to offend, sir, but would you mind if we left you to the search for a short while?’ she asked. ‘We’re hungry and thirsty after our long flight. It probably doesn’t help that we can’t read.’

  ‘Can’t read!’ he exclaimed. ‘Good heavens! How can you live without being able to read?’ He paused for a moment, but from his expression it was clear that the question was rhetorical. ‘Go back through the main doors and turn to your left. About halfway along the colonnade you will find a door that leads into a street filled with vendors of food and drink. I assume you have money enough to buy food?’

  ‘I don’t have any local currency, but I do have some silver and copper coins from my home country. Will these be acceptable, do you think?’

  Kira pulled out some coins from her belt pouch and held them out to Kalen. He picked up a silver coin and turned it over in his fingers, inspecting it minutely. After a moment he gave the coin back and nodded.

  ‘They should be fine,’ he said, ‘but the vendors will make you pay over the going price if you use those. Exchange some money before you buy anything. The moneylenders should give you a rate of one to one at worst. Don’t accept anything less. Your silvers are slightly larger and heavier than the local ones. Whenever you buy anything – even exchanging coins – be sure to haggle. Everyone haggles here. It’s expected.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Kira replied. ‘But I feel guilty leaving you to search out answers for us.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Kalen said, a broad smile across his face. ‘I can assure you it’s my pleasure. We scholars live to find answers. It’s what makes us feel most alive.’

  ‘One last thing,’ Kira said tentatively.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘How do we find our way through the maze of bookshelves to the front doors?’

  ‘A good question,’ he answered. He pointed up at the ceiling of the dome. ‘Do you see the dark blue line that runs across the diameter of the dome? That’s a meridian line. It runs from the front of the building to the back. The front end has a gold band. At the rear there’s a silver band. Just keep turning towards the end of the blue line with the gold band and you won’t go wrong. There are many ways in and out of the bookshelves. It isn’t difficult.’

  ‘Thank you again. We’ll try not to be too long.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Kalen said, waving them ahead. ‘There’s no rush. I’ve got a feeling it’s going to take me a while to find the reference we’re looking for.’

  Kalen walked behind them until they reached the shelf where the large black book was housed. He replaced the book and instantly began to search for another volume. The two girls continued, turning to follow the meridian line as the scholar had instructed.

  As they weaved through the tall bookcases, Kira’s hunter’s instinct began to tingle again. Her body prickled and tensed, much as it had before the ice worms attacked. Was something stalking her here in the library? If so, what? The very notion was ridiculous. What manner of creature would hunt in a library?

  ‘Are you all right, Kira?’ Nolita whispered in a low voice. ‘You keep looking around. Is something wrong?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she replied, leaning close and speaking softly. ‘But stay alert. My instincts are telling me trouble is not far away.’

  ‘Is it Kalen?’

  ‘No,’ Kira said quickly. ‘At least I don’t think so. But I’ll feel a lot more comfortable when we’re out in the open air.’

  They reached the edge of the maze and the girls picked up their pace as they crossed the open floor to the main doors. Kira let out a long, silent sigh of relief as they stepped into the bright sunlight. The air outside was not pleasant, but the sense of impending disaster lifted and she began to relax. They turned left and descended the great marble steps in a diagonal line towards the colonnade to the left of the enormous courtyard.

  Kira glanced back at the main doors and shrugged. I’m getting paranoid, she thought, pursing her lips into a thin line. I must be.

  ‘The place where shadows dwell . . . the place where shadows dwell . . . the place where shadows dwell . . .’ Kalen repeated the phrase softly over and over again as his eyes skimmed the bookshelves looking for inspiration. He changed the emphasis each time to try to trigger something – anything in his memory that might give him a clue as to where he had heard the phrase before.

  ‘What could such a place be?’ he muttered. ‘Could it be a puppet theatre? Puppets are figurative shadows of the people they are meant to represent. Or even a theatre of shadows?’ His mind leapt back to his own crude efforts to form representations of birds, dogs and other animals by creating shadow figures with his hands. There were those who performed amazing shows using only shadows. Could that be the meaning of the words? Was he looking for some sort of theatre house? Why then would the accompanying verse talk of an afterlife image? Puppets were not ghosts. But what if a puppet theatre existed that only featured puppets that looked like ghosts? It was a ludicrous idea! He was trying to twist the words to fit his theory.

  ‘That’s not the path of a true scholar, Kalen,’ he told himself sternly. ‘Think!’

  Were the girls right? Could he be looking for somewhere haunted? Where in
the library would he find information about purportedly haunted places? It was not something he had ever taken seriously, but he knew there were those for whom ghostly encounters were a most serious subject matter. There had to be a section devoted to such things, but where?

  ‘The master index,’ he muttered. ‘I suppose it’s the obvious place to go.’

  It was humiliating to have to resort to the library’s index system. He had spent years in this library and knew certain sections of it so well he could recite the titles of the books in sequence across the shelves without looking. The index book was kept on its own table not far from where he had been sitting with the two dragonriders. He re-entered the central study area and strode between the tables with a gait that spoke of both purpose and a touch of anger.

  ‘Ah, Kalen, my good friend!’

  Kalen stopped as if he had walked into a stone wall. The voice was unmistakeable. He turned and bowed deeply, careful not to make eye contact until he had completed his bow.

  ‘High Lord Tarpone,’ he said, trying to sound pleased. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure? We don’t see you here in the library very often these days.’

  Kalen lifted his head from his instinctive bow and saw that the High Lord was not alone. Next to him stood a tall man dressed in black. He had dark hair and piercing eyes of the palest blue, set deep under heavy brows. The man wore a smile that was as cold as the ice in his gaze. There was an aura of power about him far stronger than that of the High Lord. His posture screamed strength and authority.

  ‘No, my old friend,’ Tarpone said gravely. ‘My duties keep me absent from my studies all too often these days. Alas, this visit is also not for my own benefit. I’d like to introduce you to an old friend of mine. Kalen, this is Lord Segun, leader of the night dragon enclave.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘Not Again!’

  ‘Pell! Don’t!’ Elian yelled instinctively, his panic rising as he thought of what might happen if the orb were smashed. He took a step towards the older boy, his hands palm forwards in an unmistakeable signal for Pell to stop. ‘We’ve come too far. Do you want all that pain to count for nothing? Don’t be a fool. You’ve made your point. Now give the orb to the Oracle and let’s get out of here.’

  ‘No, Elian,’ Pell replied, his voice laced with ice. ‘The Oracle hasn’t been honest with us from the start. It’s time that changed.’ He faced the towering smoke creature and met its burning gaze. ‘Tell us the location of the dusk orb,’ he ordered. ‘In plain language.’

  ‘That is not permitted.’ The Oracle’s denial echoed around the chamber, the rumbling repetitions emphasising the statement. Elian’s heart raced as the creature’s eyes burned with anger. Was Pell crazy? How could he stand to look into those burning eyes without feeling fear? As far as Elian could see, the only emotion in Pell’s eyes was defiance.

  ‘Not permitted by whom?’ Pell asked. ‘It seems to me that you make the rules for this game. Change the rules. Tell us where the dusk orb is.’

  The Oracle fell silent. Its gaze never left the orb in Pell’s raised hands. The silence brewed, seeming to thicken with intensity as Elian tried to count his rapid heartbeats.

  ‘I do not make the rules, Pell,’ it said suddenly. ‘And even if I were to reveal the location, thou wouldst gain nothing from the knowledge. It is not thy place to retrieve the third orb. Only Kira and Longfang may complete this phase of the quest.’

  ‘If we do not benefit from your telling us, then you have no reason not to do it,’ Pell reasoned, raising the orb of death still higher.

  The Oracle considered again for a moment. ‘This is true,’ it conceded. ‘Thou hast been separated from those whose task it is to find the third orb. They cannot gain from the knowledge unless thou canst find them. Very well. It is not the normal way, but I will do it this once. Throw the orb into my well and I will reveal the location of the next.’

  Elian was astonished. Pell had done it. He had backed the Oracle into a corner and won. Why then was he hesitating? Elian could see him wavering, indecision clear on his face. ‘Do it!’ he urged through gritted teeth.

  ‘I’m no longer sure we can trust the Oracle,’ Pell said, shifting his focus briefly to glance at Elian. ‘None of our dealings with it so far have been straightforward. Why should I trust it to keep its word? Once it has the orb we have nothing left to bargain with. I don’t know which I dislike more – this twisted creature with its riddles, its ulterior motives and its deceptions, or Segun. At least Segun is open with his intentions, even if his heart is as black as the devil’s armpit.’

  The enormous dragon’s head leaned forwards on its vaporous neck until its nostrils were no more than a couple of fingers’ widths in front of Pell. Its eyes burned bright with red anger.

  ‘Thou treadst on dangerous ground, youngling. Do not test my patience any further. Give me the orb, or destroy it and watch thy future die with me. I have said I will reveal where the third orb awaits. Think what thou wilt, I do not lie.’

  With a suddenness that was shocking, Pell brought his arms downwards as if to hurl the orb at the rock in front of his feet. Elian sucked in a sharp intake of breath that hissed through his teeth and he felt the two dragons behind him surge forwards in an instinctive effort to prevent the orb from being smashed. Had Pell let go of the orb, neither would have reached it in time. But he did not. Instead he hung onto the black crystal globe and rather than smashing it, he reversed the momentum and tossed it upwards in a gentle arc that carried it over the low wall in front of him to drop into the bottomless blackness that was the Oracle’s pit.

  For a moment Elian’s knees wobbled as he fought to stay upright. His stomach felt as if it had climbed his throat and his heart was hammering so hard that he thought it might bruise itself on his ribs.

  ‘Ahh!’ the Oracle breathed, its smoky form shifting and then solidifying again. ‘Thank you. The second orb brings a bittersweet flavour. It will take time for me to absorb its energy. I must rest.’

  ‘The location you promised?’ Pell persisted, anger punching out the key syllables.

  ‘The Castle of Shadows.’ The answer came in a whisper, as the towering form collapsed inwards on itself. ‘Seek the Castle of Shadows.’

  The last wisp of smoke sucked down into the darkness, leaving the vast chamber dim and echoing with the final flowing rush of the Oracle’s departure. Elian turned and staggered across to Aurora. He leaned against her foreleg, his entire body shaking with the aftershock of emotion he felt from the encounter. The Castle of Shadows? he thought, his mind sounding out the name carefully. Even its title bears an uncomfortable chill.

  ‘It is a dark place,’ Aurora confirmed. ‘Dragons do not go there any more.’

  ‘Really? Why not?’ Elian asked.

  Aurora did not reply. This was not like her at all. The bond between their minds turned cold, as if a chill wind were blowing across the link. He pushed away from her leg and looked her in the eye.

  ‘What is it, Ra? Why don’t dragons go there?’ he persisted.

  Still she hesitated to respond. When finally she did, her voice resonated in his skull, slow and serious.

  ‘Because those who enter its gates never return,’ she said.

  ‘Hell and damnation!’ Jack swore, fighting the controls as the aircraft lost power and nosed down into a dive. ‘Not again!’

  A thick plume of smoke erupted from his engine, coiled around the fuselage and trailed across the sky behind him like a gigantic black serpent. Hot oil ran in long black streaks from just aft of the propellor.

  Unless he landed quickly he was likely to be toasted. A fire in the engine would quickly spread through the wood and fabric. He had no parachute, so his only option was to crash land and get away from the wreckage as quickly as he could.

  To crash once and walk away was fortunate. A second time in less than a week would require little short of a miracle.

  It was his own fault to think he could take on the Red Baron, but he had b
een hot-headed with thoughts of vengeance. The top German flying ace, Baron Manfred Von Richthofen, nicknamed the Red Baron for his distinctive red tri-plane, together with his infamous ‘flying circus’ of talented pilots, had attacked from above. Jack had spotted them coming, but despite all his efforts to warn his wingman by waggling his wings and pitching his aircraft up and down, the junior pilot had appeared unaware of the approaching danger.

  Von Richthofen and his men had been almost on top of them before Jack’s sense of self-preservation forced him to turn away from his wingman and take the fight to the enemy. The poor lad, fresh out of flying training, had stood no chance. Jack only hoped the boy had not suffered as he went down.

  It was foolish to go after the German ace, but Jack’s anger had made him rash. Despite the sky being full of enemy machines, he had been in no mood to run. To his surprise, however, he had only managed to get off a couple of ineffectual bursts in the general direction of the red tri-plane before the fight had turned against him.

  Von Richthofen was good – really good. His machine twisted and turned so fast that it seemed almost to disappear and reappear on Jack’s tail. Having traded places from hunter to hunted in less than a minute, Jack was horrified as a line of bullets ripped through his machine and his engine began to cough and splutter. Vibrations rippled through the cockpit. They were intermittent to begin, but soon built in a crescendo that rattled his teeth and sent an icy finger of fear pressing deep into his stomach.

  Jack did not see the arrival of the flight of allied aircraft. All his attention was on staying alive and trying to keep his ailing aircraft in the air. Had it not been for the newcomers entering the fray, Von Richthofen would most likely have pursued him further and made sure of his kill. Instead, the Baron’s bright red Fokker tri-plane raced past him, sights set on a new target. Jack’s emotions were a strange mix. He felt insignificant, yet lucky at the same time.