The Library: The Complete Series (All 8 Books) (2013)

by Amy Cross

  "For an assignment?"

  "Yeah," I say, lying. "For an assignment."

  "Huh," he replies, staring at me as if he doesn't believe a word I'm saying. "You've certainly picked a rather obscure topic."

  "I thought it might be interesting," I tell him.

  "He really believed it all, you know," Caliko continues. "It's said that he once gave a lecture at the Royal Society in London, and he kept talking even after the entire audience had walked out. They hurled insults at him, they told him he was a fool, but he just kept on talking and eventually he finished his speech to an empty theater. He really believed that this library existed." He pauses for a moment. "It's hard not to admire a man who sticks to his principles, even if at the end of the day he does seem to have been something of a fool."

  "How do you know he was a fool?" I ask.

  "Have you read this stuff yet?" he replies, holding up a handful of pages. "He describes a whole world filled with the vast, outdoor shelves of a great library. He talks of citadels rising up in the clearings. He describes creatures and societies living between the shelves. At one point, he even claims that the library is one of seven worlds that exist alongside one another." He smiles. "I mean, his biggest mistake as far as I can see was that he presented all these ideas as fact. If he'd just repackaged the whole thing as some kind of new religion, he might have got it off the ground. Unfortunately, he decided to pretend it was all real."

  "But maybe it was real," I say. I immediately feel dumb for voicing such an idea, but I can't get over the fact that a lot of Smotherwood's ideas are the same as the things that happened in my dream. The clincher, as far as I'm concerned, is that I'd never heard of Barclay Smotherwood or his library until after the dream, so how did these two separate things manage to collide in my mind? "I mean, maybe it was rooted in fact," I continue. "Maybe he took a few basic truths and then built some kind of fantasy over the top. People do that sometimes, right?"

  "I want to call you a fool," Caliko says, "but I've been around long enough to know that occasionally it is fools who turn out to be telling the truth. Even if that truth seems, at first glance, to be absolutely insane." He finishes gathering up the pages. Once he's quickly tucked them between the covers of the book, he passes them to me and, to my surprise, he actually smiles. "You'll have to sort them into the right order yourself. Smotherwood apparently didn't believe in page numbers. He claimed they were a form of tyranny. Maybe he was right, but either way, it's going to make your life a hell of a lot harder."

  Once he's gone, I'm left kneeling between the shelves, holding 'The History of the Library' in my hands. I want to dismiss the whole thing, of course, and to mark it down as a curious but insignificant idea that was briefly raised by a madman who lived hundreds of years ago. The problem, though, is that I can't shake the feeling that my dream was more than a dream. As time passes, I seem to be remembering more and more details, as if the dream's reality is slowly unfolding in my mind. There's a part of me that wants to go running to a doctor so I can get some help from a mental health professional, but there's another part of me that enjoys the idea that maybe, just maybe, that dream was more than a dream.

  "Lunch?" asks a familiar voice suddenly.

  Turning, I find that Haley has tracked me down.

  "Sure," I say, getting to my feet.

  "What the hell is that?" she asks, looking at the dismantled book in my hands.

  "I'm checking it out," I say.

  "It's falling apart."

  "I guess, but I just..." I pause for a moment, as I realize that I can't possibly tell Haley what's been bothering me. "I'm just interested," I say eventually. "I mean, it's a pretty obscure book, so I'm going to be the first person who's read it for a long time. It just seems like a kind of cool thing to do. Anyway, I might get something more out of it. I still need to come up with something for my presentation."

  "You're weird sometimes," Haley replies. "You know that, right? Come on, let's go get lunch."

  Deciding not to bother fighting my corner, I follow her along the aisle and back toward the main door. I can't help but glance again at the door to Thomas J. Sharpe's office. I have no idea who Sharpe is, but the name definitely seems familiar, almost as if it's part of the same fog that surrounds my memories of the dream. Maybe I'm really losing my mind, and soon I'll be sitting in a padded cell and jabbering on about some bizarre library. Still, the book in my hands seems to suggest that there might at least be a little truth to the whole idea. As crazy and irrational as it might seem, I can't shake the idea that maybe, just maybe, Barclay Smotherwood was actually onto something all those years ago. Could there really be a huge library world out there somewhere?

  Vanguard

  Leaning on the hilt of my sword, I lift myself slowly from the ground. My ears are still ringing from the sound of the final battle, and all around there are dead and dying bodies. Although I stumble a little, I eventually manage to stand up straight, with blood flowing down my chest from several wounds. My vision is blurred for a moment, and I'm unable to shake the feeling that I might at any moment be attacked. The battle seemed to last for an eternity, and I'm not sure how I was able to survive. I felt several swords slice into my body, but the chains beneath my skin helped to deflect the worst of the blows. A normal man would have died ten thousand times, but I kept going, always believing that I could strike the necessary blows to end the war.

  I was wrong.

  It's over.

  It's all gone.

  The Library has been destroyed.

  Whereas once there were shelves covering the landscape, now there is nothing but a vast, wrecked flat world spreading to the horizon in every direction, littered with the occasional stump of wood. The Forbidders, in their fury, lived up to their promise to destroy everything in their path. They ripped the shelves from the ground and scattered them far and wide, before sending wave after wave of fire to burn the ruins. A few random shelves remain on their sides, and one or two half-scorched books have survived, but for the most part everything is gone. The once proud and great Library has been lost forever, and there is no hope of it being rebuilt.

  Reaching down, I pick up a burned piece of wood. This was likely once a shelf, holding some of the Library's books. Like the rest of this world, it has now been reduced to debris. I use my boot to kick a small pile of half-burned books, but they merely turn to ash.

  As I listen to the wind that howls all around me, I realize that I have failed. Until this moment, I always believed that I could triumph in any given situation. I thought I was unstoppable, and that there was no force I could not defeat provided I fought long enough and hard enough. With the Soldiers of Tea, I faced some of the most daunting creatures that ever existed in all the seven worlds. Even when the Forbidders came, I believed deep down that eventually I would find a way to stop them.

  I did not find a way.

  "Face me!" I shout, but my voice betrays great weakness.

  Steeling myself against the pain that courses through my body, I turn and use my sword as a makeshift crutch as I start limping slowly across the barren landscape. The only structure visible for miles is the ruined Citadel, which was destroyed many years ago by a departing band of Grandapams. Even if they had not used their explosives, however, there would have been no point letting the place survive. The anger of the Forbidders was absolute, and they spared no part of this world. I never believed I would live to see such a day. I believed the Librarian when he foretold that the Library would last forever. Like the others, I was a fool.

  In the distance, the sky is still churning. The Forbidders still have a bridge open to their own world, but I'm certain they'll leave soon. They'll be searching for Claire, and they'll eventually find her. If she doesn't surrender to their demands, they'll do to her world what they did to the Library. I always harbored a lingering hope that they could be stopped, but I was a fool. The Forbidders possess a kind of energy that is unique to their forms, and they are willing to expend all
their time and effort on the job of destroying anything that slows their progress. They want the first book, and they will get it, no matter how many words they must destroy in the process.

  "Face me!" I shout again, daring the beasts to come back. Although my body is shattered and far from being healed, I'm determined to confront the Forbidders once again. Until my dying breath, I will not rest. Either they will kill me, or I will kill them. "Face me!" I shout yet again.

  There is no response.

  Turning, I see that the Forbidders have no interest in me. They are far away, and from their perspective I must seem like little more than an ant.

  "Face me!" I scream, but I know it's no use. Finally, I allow myself to accept that the battle is over. My enemy no longer sees me a threat, and no longer deigns to come and fight me.

  The time for victories has passed.

  As I walk, I feel my body starting to slowly heal. Still, there seems to be no point in recovering from this war. I doubt that more than a handful of creatures are still alive in this place. The Library will now fall silent. Perhaps one day, many thousands of years from now, another civilization will grow here, but I will not be around to see such a thing happen. With the passing of the Library, I can tell that my place in the world has been lost. There is only one choice left for me. I must dig myself a good, deep grave in this blood-soaked soil, and I must bury myself forever.

  Claire

  It's getting late and I've been sitting alone in my dorm room for hours, going through the pages of Barclay Smotherwood's book. I gave up trying to sort the pages into the right order, and I've settled instead for just reading each page as it comes. Slowly, and with a few gaps still in the narrative, I'm beginning to get an idea of what he was suggesting. The guy certainly seemed to believe everything he wrote, but at the same time there's a kind of lucidity about his writing that makes it difficult for me to just dismiss his ideas.

  When he writes about the citadel, for example, I immediately get a strong mental image of a large, rocky structure rising up from a clearing in the shelves. The sights, sounds and smells are so vivid and clear, it's almost as if I've actually been there. Smotherwood gives plenty of details, but always from the outside; in my mind's eye, however, I feel as if I can see into the citadel. It's almost as if I can remember vast halls and small stone rooms, and corridors and winding staircases, and a small room at the very top where there was a voice hidden behind a door, and then...

  I sigh, feeling a headache coming on. It's almost midnight, which means I've been at this for almost eight hours without taking a break. I should stop for now, but I feel compelled to keep going, as if something's urging me to continue. Every so often, the fog in my mind seems to clear a little, and I get the feeling that I already know a lot of the details contained in the book. I don't know if I'm going crazy or I just haven't had enough sleep, or if maybe there's a brain tumor growing in my head and causing all these strange dreams and sensations, but I feel as if I'm on the verge of discovering something, and I can't stop. Not yet.

  Smotherwood writes at one point about a knight who had chains beneath his skin. This knight, who Smotherwood doesn't name, is said to have lost his family and suffered a great fall from grace, finally eking out his days in the darkest, most remote reaches of the vast library. Again, as I read the description, I'm struck by a very vivid image of the knight, and by a strange sense of familiarity. I'm starting to really worry about my mental health, because the more I read of Smotherwood's work, the more I'm convinced that some of these places and people actually existed. It's almost as if I remember them from my own experience.

  Just as I'm about to stop reading for the night, I come to the part where he talks about the seven worlds. He describes a series of huge spheres, each of which contains an entirely separate world with its own rules. The library is one such world, and he goes into details about the others, throwing out a series of names that mean nothing to me. He makes references to the Drazi, and Sangreth, and Gothos, and the Forbidders, and while occasionally I feel a brief stab of recognition, for the most part I feel as if I'm reading the ravings of a madman. Finally, he writes about a kind of darkness that spreads from world to world, consuming everything it finds in its path.

  Forcing myself to stop reading for the night, I decide to go and see if Haley's still up. She tends to sleep during the mornings, so even at midnight she's often to be found in her room, watching films or just playing games online. I feel as if I need a distraction from all the craziness that's been filling my mind lately. Seriously, it's as if I'm on the edge of madness, and I might actually go insane at any moment. I'm scared that, when morning comes, Haley will come knocking on my door and find my shivering in the corner, barking random words about some far-off library. I need to clear my head and remind myself of what's real and what's not, or I might end up in a padded cell.

  Finding that Haley isn't in her room, I give her a call and she tells me she's at the campus bar. I'm too tired to go out, but at the same time I'm too edgy to stay alone in my room. Besides, I know I'd just end up reading some more of Smotherwood's book, so I force myself to slope off into the night and make my way through the dark campus. The local bar, known as the Citadel, isn't exactly my idea of fun, and it'll probably be packed to the rafters with drunk, screaming students. Still, it's better than nothing, and the noise might help me to drown out the thoughts that won't stop going around and around in my mind. Maybe what I need right now is to get absolutely blind drunk.

  "Going somewhere?" asks a voice suddenly.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I see that there's a dark figure standing in the shadows. I keep walking, but after a moment I can tell that he's following me. Reaching into my pocket, I double-check that I've got my mace spray with me. I've never felt unsafe on the campus before, but it's late at night and you never know what kind of weirdos might be lurking in the darkness.

  "I didn't mean to scare you," the voice continues, keeping pace with me as I cross the main quadrant. I can already see the lights of the bar in the distance.

  "It's fine," I say, not looking back at him. "Have a nice evening."

  "Don't you recognize me?"

  "Sorry," I say, still not looking back. "I'm in a hurry. Thanks. Bye."

  "Have you really forgotten already?" he continues. "Vanguard was right. Humans do have small brains."

  Stopping, I turn to look back at him. My heart is pounding, and I desperately want to get to the bar, but there's something about this guy that seems strangely familiar. With my hand still firmly gripping the mace spray in my pocket, I stare at the dark figure and try to make out his features.

  "You were warned that this might happen," he continues. "Don't you remember that Vanguard told you to expect us?"

  "I..." I start to say, before my voice trails off. That name, Vanguard, seems strangely familiar.

  "Believe me," the figure says, "I have ears all through the Library. I know he warned you. He told you that we'd lay waste to the Library and that eventually we'd break through to the next world and continue our search for you. The Forbidders are never going to stop until they have you. The Library is in ruins now, and we'll do the same to this world if necessary, and any world where you try to hide."

  "I don't know what you're talking about," I say, trying not to panic.

  "I find that hard to believe," he continues. "Do you really think ignorance is going to save you? We don't care whether you remember any of this. All we care about is that we possess you. My masters' desperation grows by the day, and from their perspective it has been many hundreds of years since you escaped from the Library. They were angry at first, but over time they have come to understand that you're merely displaying an understandable level of fear. In fact, they've grown to quite enjoy the chase."

  "I really think you've got the wrong person," I say, my voice trembling a little.

  "If you come with me now," he says, "this world will be spared. But if you fight, and if you try to deny us our prize, we'l
l rip through the fabric that separates this world from the others, and we'll destroy everything in our path until we have you. Are you really so selfish, Claire, that you would let another world burn, just because you're too scared to give yourself up to your fate?" He steps closer. "Will you let all seven worlds burn until you're cornered on the last? Or will you accept the inevitable and allow this world to survive."

  "Don't come any closer!" I say, pulling the mace spray from my pocket and holding it up. "One more step, and I'll use this!"

  "Perhaps you need a small demonstration of how things are going to be if you don't give yourself to us." He looks up, and moments later there's a cracking sound from the sky. "They have already begun to tear open a path from the Library to this world," he continues. "It won't take them very long."

  As I look up, I see the dark clouds starting to be sucked toward a black hole that seems to have developed directly above us. I'm instantly filled with the sensation that I've seen something like this before, but I have no idea where or when.

  "You can choose to end the destruction," the figure continues. "You can choose to spare this world, but only if you come with me."

  "I don't know who you are," I say, even though I feel as if there's a dam about to burst in my mind.

  "You don't remember your old friend Gum?" he asks, stepping even closer. Finally I can see his face, which appears to be rotting and falling apart. "Granted," he continues with a smile, "I need a new head. Daniel's has lasted for a very long time, but I can see why you might be appalled by my appearance. Tell me, do you happen to know of anyone around here whose head I could borrow?"

  Turning, I run across the quadrant, determined to get away from this guy as fast as possible. As I make my way to the bar, I realize that my worst fears have come true. I've spent so long reading Barclay Smotherwood's book about the library, I've started to lose my mind. I can no longer tell reality from fiction, and all these ideas are colliding in my head. That guy just now was probably just a figment of my imagination. As I reach the bar, I look up and see that the sky is still churning. Damn it, why can't these hallucinations end?