by Amy Cross
"I've met one," I say. "She says she's happy to be eaten by her master when the time comes."
"It has been a long time since I was among Grandapams," Fig continues. "Clearly, they have become even more subservient over the years. The ancient scholars felt that the Grandapams had the potential to become a mighty warrior race, but they put aside their weapons and chose instead to work as cooks and cleaners and maids for other species. They offered themselves as servants, and they have shown no desire to carve out any other role for themselves within the Library. One must be careful, Claire, of judging others by our own standards. Just because you humans are filled with an urge to compete for glory, don't assume that everyone else feels the same way. You won't understand much around here if you just assume that we're all basically the same as you."
"But she's going to let herself be eaten," I continue. "I totally get that she wants to serve, but she's going to throw down her life. She talks about being eaten as part of some huge feast, as if it's some kind of great honor. I can't let that happen."
"You can't stop it, and you have no right to stop it. I'm sure the Grandapam could walk away if she so chose, but she wishes to fulfill her ancestral duty. For a Grandapam, it is a matter of honor to serve a master for many years and finally to allow him to consume your body. Anything else would be a grave dis-service, and you would be making a terrible mistake if you interfered in the affairs of this particular Grandapam. Why not focus on more pressing matters, such as the fact that you're still in the Library when you had hoped to be gone by now."
"I'm waiting for Vanguard," I say. "He promised he'd help me find a way back to my own world."
"So why has that not happened?" There's a hint of amusement in Fig's voice, as if she knows the answer to her question but would rather hear my view.
"Because he's busy. Because he's always busy and he never has time to see me. Every time I ask, I'm told he'll be along soon, but I'm starting to think..." My voice trails off as I realize I don't want to articulate the fears that have been festering at the back of my mind. In truth, though, I'm starting to believe that Vanguard has abandoned me; whether he has chosen to do this or he has been unavoidably detained, he's left me here to kick my heels and watch as the fires get closer and closer to the Citadel. Every morning, I look out the window and wonder whether the fires are going to get here before it's too late.
"I wouldn't rely too heavily on Vanguard, if I were you," Fig says. "I know him of old, and I can assure you that he's a man who will easily forget a promise made to one such as yourself. He chases glory, and nothing more. I doubt he's given you a second thought since he reached the Citadel. He's more likely to be focused on some grand endeavor that he believes will allow him to be restored to glory. If you're looking for a way home, you'll need to find someone else to help you. Vanguard isn't going to come back for you."
"You're wrong," I say. "He's just busy."
"I can assure you," she continues, "he will not help you. Trust me on this."
"You can see the future, can you?" I ask sarcastically.
"Perhaps," she says. "Not the whole of it, of course, but from time to time I become aware of little threads blowing in the wind, and I can attempt to divine certain future events from the nature of those threads. I get glimpses of things that are yet to be. I can promise you, for example, that I shall be seeing Vanguard before you see him. In fact, perhaps you have a message you'd like me to deliver when I drop in on him?"
"Just tell him to find me," I reply, "but don't worry about it too much. I can track him down myself."
"I doubt that," Fig says. "Haven't you heard? He's already set out on a little quest. He's still in the Citadel, but he's gone far, far below, and I doubt he'll be back for quite some time."
"If you know where he is," I say, "why don't you come out of your little cell and help me get to him?"
She laughs. "I'll be coming out of here soon enough. Don't worry about that. For now, focus on keeping your hands off that Grandapam. She knows what she's doing, and it's not fair for a human to show up and try to tell other species how they should be living. If she wants to offer herself to her superiors, you should let her do it. Anything else would be to risk a great conflict."
"Don't take this the wrong way," I say, heading over to the door, "but you haven't been as much help as I'd hoped."
"I never am," she calls after me. "That's one of the reasons I've hidden myself up here."
Once I'm out of the room, I make my way down the spiral staircase that leads to the lower floors of the Citadel. I'm not quite sure what I'd expected to get from Fig, but I guess I thought she'd at least try to help me find a way out of this place. Despite everything I said to her, I'm starting to despair of ever finding Vanguard, and I can't help wondering if she's right: has Vanguard decided to go off on some other quest, rather than sticking to his word and helping me find a way back to my own world? It's almost as if I'm in some kind of limbo, with no role in this world and no way back to my own. I've been clinging so firmly and so desperately to the hope that Vanguard will show me the way home, I've barely noticed the voice of doubt getting louder and louder in the back of my mind.
Until now.
Realizing I can't just sit around, I decide I have to be more pro-active. There's got to be a way to track Vanguard down and make him help me. After all, the way he described it, there should be little more to do than walk through some kind of portal. I don't understand how things work in the Library, but I'm certain there has to be a way for me to get home. If I could pass from my world to this world, surely I can pass back? Then again, I'm starting to wonder if my original hunch was right: maybe I really did suffer some kind of accident, and I'm stuck in a coma, and... Sighing, I remind myself that this place is all too real to be a dream.
Surprisingly, there's no sign of Natalia when I get down to my room. She's usually fussing around somewhere, especially when she realizes I've been exploring the rest of the building. Figuring she must be getting on with lunch, I go down to the kitchen, but she's nowhere to be found. Wandering between the counters, I find piles of food laid out, as if Natalia had begun to prepare a meal; for some reason, though, she seems to have abandoned her job, which seems kind of unlike her. I know I should just go back to my room and focus on the task of getting out of here, but I can't shake this nagging feeling that Natalia's sudden absence is an indication that something might be wrong. Given that she seems to have been so completely devoted to me since I arrived at the Citadel, I can't think of a single reason why she should suddenly be hard to find.
"Hey!" I call out. "Are you down here?"
No reply.
"Natalia?"
Walking to the far end of the kitchen, I step through a doorway and find myself in what appears to be a small pantry. There are a couple of other doors leading away from the room, and I head over to one of them, only to find that it opens onto the top of a spiral staircase.
"Natalia?" I call out again.
Silence.
Just as I'm about to turn around and go back through to the kitchen, I hear a distant noise from the bottom of the stairwell. It wasn't much; in fact, it sounded like a piece of metal being banged. Figuring I might as well take a look around, I start making my way down the steps, all the while wondering whether there's a chance that I could stumble upon a way home. After all, Vanguard seemed to think that there was some kind of portal in the Citadel, so I guess my best bet is to just keep looking around until I find the way back to my own world. At least it's something to do while I wait for Vanguard to finally come and see me. One thing's for certain: I've had enough of sitting around, twiddling my thumbs while Natalia waits on me and everyone else ignores me.
"Hello?" I say when I get to the bottom of the stairs and find myself in a long, narrow stone corridor. "Natalia?" This part of the Citadel feels different to the rest; while most of the building is clearly designed to look grand and impressive, things seem more functional down here, which leads me to wonder whet
her I've found the servants' quarters. Walking along the corridor, I try to decide whether it's a good idea to be down here. Then again, the only servant left in the Citadel these days is Natalia, and she's spent so much time dithering around in my bedroom lately that I don't see how she can be annoyed at me for coming down into her area.
Reaching the end of the corridor, I step through another doorway and find myself in a dark room, with straw on the floor. I take a couple of steps forward, before a rustling sound makes me stop. There's definitely someone in here, though I'm starting to think that maybe I've walked a little too confidently into a situation I don't understand.
"Natalia?" I say, my heart racing. When there's no reply, I take a step back. "Okay," I continue, "I didn't mean to disturb you, I just -" Suddenly I feel something brushing against my shoulder, and I turn to find a Grandapam standing next to me. I move back, staring at him as I realize that he's definitely not Natalia; he seems to be a male, his yellow and red eyes staring back at me with unsettling intensity.
"What are you doing down here?" asks a familiar voice from the shadows, and Natalia steps toward me with a concerned look on her face. Behind her, in the gloom, there are half a dozen more Grandapams, all keeping a watchful eye on me. I'm getting a distinct feeling that I've disturbed something.
"I was just looking for you," I say. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you had company."
"I told you to stay in your room," she replies, coming a little closer. "Why do you persist in wandering about this place, when you've been specifically told to stay put?"
"Sorry," I say, turning to find that one of the other Grandapams has blocked the doorway. "I'll just go back upstairs," I continue, but the Grandapam remains very deliberately in my path. There's something distinctly menacing about the way he's looking at me.
"You're really not very good at obeying orders, are you?" Natalia asks, stepping closer.
"It was a mistake," I say, looking over at her and then turning to the other Grandapams. "What are they doing here?" I ask. "I thought you said you were the last of your species?"
"Yes," Natalia replies. "I did say that." She takes another step closer. "However, there's been something of a change of plan." Suddenly, she raises her arm and slams her elbow down against my neck. I barely have time to let out a gasp before I black out, and the last thing I remember is the heavy thud of my body hitting the ground.
Vanguard
Far beneath the Citadel, the catacombs spread out their root-like corridors in patch darkness. The legends state that these catacombs were left behind by those who inhabited the land of the Library long before the shelves were built, although little other information has ever been unearthed. The idea of a civilization having lived here, in this land, before the Library is somewhat contrary to received thinking, since it is generally assumed that the world was inhospitable before the first Librarian established the core of the Library. Whatever the truth, a mixture of superstition and outright fear has left the catacombs uninhabited and abandoned for many thousands of years, and those who venture down here are never seen again.
"I'm not saying I know the route," Weary says, holding a torch to light our path. "No-one knows the route. The only way to know the route is to come down here and explore, and that's a fool's game, as you can see." He holds the torch closer to the wall, illuminating the bones and skulls that have been compacted together within the walls.
"Is this supposed to scare me?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.
"I don't see how a reasonable man could fail to be scared," he continues. "Look at the sheer number of skulls. How many people died down here, their bodies left scattered where they fell?"
"They have not been left scattered where they fell," I point out. "They have been carefully arranged and used as part of the walls. That is an important difference. It means someone made a conscious decision to build these walls in a certain way, probably in an attempt to create an atmosphere of fear. I strongly suspect that whoever created these walls did so in an attempt to scare intruders, which sounds like the work of someone who fears direct confrontation. After all, if the creatures down here are so fearsome, why would they try to scare others away?"
"You're a hard man to impress," Weary replies.
"I have been to places far worse than these catacombs," I tell him.
"And the unknown doesn't scare you?"
"The unknown intrigues me," I say, as we reach an intersection. "Besides, you know more about these catacombs than anyone. Do you really believe that I need be scared? I am Vanguard. I am a Lord of the House of Lacanth. I have slain ten thousand men. I have led armies around the entire circumference of the Library, and I have fought among the Soldiers of Tea. Why should I be scared of a few dark corridors?"
"This way," he says, leading me to the right. "The catacombs have their own energy, Vanguard. Can't you feel it in the air already? There's a sense of some kind of presence down here, as if there's an echo hanging in the air. I know you're a brave man, but surely you have to admit that the catacombs are like nowhere else in the Library. You only have to -"
"Is this all there is?" I ask, interrupting him. "I've long heard legends and stories about this place, but is there nothing of substance? Show me a creature that calls this place home, and maybe I will be fearful. Show me a pile of ten thousand bodies, of brave and strong men, and I might reconsider my confidence. All you have shown me so far are shadows and empty corridors. Perhaps those who died down here, died because they were ashamed of themselves for having believed such outlandish tales. It is certainly possible for a man to die of fear alone."
"Can outlandish tales crush a man's skull?" Weary asks, stopping and pointing down at a pile of broken bones on the ground. "Can a man's head crumple inwards, merely because he is ashamed? Does this look like the work of fear and fear alone?"
"This looks like the work of Anh Snakes," I reply. "They have the strength to drive their heads into their victim's bodies, even through their bones; they then drag their full length through the hole and out the other side, with the barbs on the sides of their bodies extended for maximum damage. The barbs have small hooks, which grab hold of the victim's intestines and drag them out. While they are deeply unpleasant creatures, I would hesitate to suggest that they are particularly unusual. They can be found in parts of the Library itself. If you persist in claiming that the catacombs are home to unexplained creatures, Weary, you will have to come up with something a little more chilling that the corpse of a man who was felled by an Anh Snake." Leaning down, I pick up the skull and hold it up to show both the entry and exit holes. "Clearly an Anh Snake," I say, before dropping the skull and letting it smash as it hits the ground.
"You've got an answer for everything, huh?" Weary says as we start moving again. "Aren't you scared, Vanguard? Don't you worry about what might be waiting for us up ahead, in the shadows?"
"Shadows do not scare me," I reply. "A creature hiding in the shadows is not confident. It hides. It believes it cannot be seen, and it hopes to surprise me, because it knows that it cannot defeat me in a straight battle. If surprise is the creature's greatest hope, I am quite certain I will be able to fend it off with little trouble. The only type of creature that worries me is one that comes screaming at me, for such a creature is either foolish or strong. A fool I can deal with, but I am not so vain that I refuse to acknowledge there can be creatures with greater strength than I could ever hope to possess."
"Then you've got it all figured out," Weary says.
"One day I shall die," I say, "but it will be at the hands of something that is stronger and smarter than anything that could fit into these narrow corridors. It will be at the hands of something that stands and faces me across the battlefield, not something that skulks around in the shadows." I glance over at him. "You, on the other hand, look as if you could be felled by a strong breeze. If we were to get separated down here, Weary, do you honestly believe you would survive for more than a couple of minutes? Or would you run from corridor to c
orridor, you fear building by the second until finally you could be easily picked off by the first ambitious worm that crossed your path?"
"Thank you," he replies. "That's not quite the kind of confidence-booster I needed, but it's -"
"Stop!" I say, reaching out and grabbing his shoulder. I have suddenly become aware of something up ahead, moving in the darkness. "Stay behind me," I continue, moving in front of him as I peer into the gloom. Once again, I hear a vague shuffling sound, and it's absolutely clear that we are not alone down here. In the narrow confines of the tight corridor, some kind of creature is moving slowly, almost cautiously, in our direction. After a moment, I realize I can just about make out the shape of a man, standing about twenty meters further along the corridor as if he is staring at us.
"My friends?" the man calls out, his voice sounding old and frail. "Is that you?"
"Who is it?" Weary asks.
"I'm not sure," I reply.
"I don't like this," Weary says, clearly moving up to a whole new level of abject panic. "Vanguard, I don't like this at all!"
"My friends," the man continues, "you must turn back. This path leads only to death, for yourself and for your friend. If you come any closer, they will kill me first, and then they will kill you. Please, show some sense and turn back before it's too late. I'm doomed, but it's not too late for you to escape."
"Identify yourself," I say, removing my broadsword from its sheath. "I will not talk to a man who refuses to give me his name."
"It's me," he continues, stepping a little closer. Finally, I can see his face, and I realize that we have come face to face with the Librarian. However, there is something dark around his waist, as if he is being held in place by some creature that hides further back; the dark shape flexes a little, as if tightening its grip.
"We came here to -" I start to say.
"It doesn't matter why you came here," he replies, his voice filled with fear. "It only matters that you turn back, my friends. There is a Forbidder here. He has me in his grip, and if you come any closer, he will tear me apart and then come for you. Don't try to save me. Just run for your lives."
