Journey to the Library [The Library Saga]

by Amy Cross

  "A soul," Carstairs says calmly. "You developed a soul. So many people came and prayed to you, and had faith in you, that you had no choice. You responded to their faith by growing a soul, and now..." He pauses. "And now here you are, old girl. I'm so sorry I left you all alone. It was never my intention, but I couldn't remember. Not properly, anyway. I almost died trying to get out of your burning wreckage, and then I just ran and run... I never went too far, though. I always knew I'd end up back here one day."

  "I'm sorry that so many people had to die," she replies. "I just had to keep you safe and remind you that I was waiting."

  "I never forgot you," he whispers. "Not even for a moment."

  "Sometimes it felt as if -"

  "I was wrong to stay away," he replies, interrupting the voice. "I was just a poor, scared old fool running around in a stupid old wizard's costume." With that, he pulls the cape loose and tosses it down into the mud, revealing the torn and frayed Second World War uniform he's been wearing underneath. "Once a soldier, always a soldier," he adds with a hint of sadness in his voice.

  "You brought me here," the voice continues. "You're responsible for the fact that I grew this soul. If any magic has ever been performed, ultimately the credit is yours."

  "That voice," he replies. "You sound familiar, old girl."

  "I have a vague memory of hearing such a voice once before. While we were crashing, perhaps."

  "Ah," he says with a smile. "The girl on the radio. Yes, I suppose you copied her voice."

  "The echo of her words was still in the radio equipment," the voice continues. "I listened to her over and over again. There's someone else here, too. A man, strapped into the cockpit, but he's dead..."

  "That's Jimmy," Carstairs replies. "He was my spark. That's what we used to call our electrician on bombing raids. I was determined to save him, but I suppose I had no chance. I should have realized that I was fighting a losing battle, but I've never been the kind of man who gives up. I just hope poor Jimmy didn't suffer at the end."

  "I heard screams," the voice says. "When I was burning, someone was screaming inside my body."

  "That was probably me," Carstairs replies, "before I managed to get out."

  "No," the voice continues. "Even after you were gone, the screams continued for a while. I didn't have my soul at that point, but I've since been able to reconstruct echoes of what happened. I believe your friend -"

  "Let's not talk about it," Carstairs says firmly. "If we can't change the past, what good does it do to rake over it endlessly?"

  "What about my parents?" I ask, feeling as if I'm being forgotten. "Do you have my parents?"

  "Quite right," Carstairs replies, taking a step back and wiping ran from his face. "This young man is looking for his parents. No-one's angry and no-one's upset, but it seems likely that they were brought here by your intervention." He pauses, staring up at the Angel. "I know you used them to lure us here, but now I think it's time to let them go again."

  "I have already allowed them to depart," the voice replies. "They are being taken to the horizon point by a group of Ceriphs. I have ensured that the humans are allowed to pass on to the next world, where I believe they will be happier."

  "No!" I shout. "You can't let them die!"

  "All things must die," the Angel says calmly. "Except for me. And Carstairs. We must go on living forever."

  "How long ago did they depart for the horizon point?" Carstairs asks.

  "This evening," she replies. "The Ceriphs were told to hurry, although in my fury, I accidentally created quite a storm. I hope I didn't slow them down too much."

  "We need to catch them before they reach the horizon point," Carstairs says, turning to me. "They've got a few hours' headstart on us, but it must just be possible. We just have to hope that the bad weather slowed them down sufficiently. They'll be there by morning, though, so we need to get a move on."

  "You cannot leave me," the Angel tells him. "I will not permit it."

  "I'll come back," he replies, "but Thomas -"

  "I will not permit you to leave," the Angel says firmly, with a hint of anger in its voice. "You left before, and for a time I believed you would never come back."

  "There's no time to argue about this," Carstairs continues. "Look, you have my word that I'll return. I know what you are now, and I want to come back and..." He pauses, and suddenly a curious look of surprise crosses his face. "Hang on," he adds, "I think I have an idea."

  "I will not permit you to leave me," the Angel says again.

  "Fine," Carstairs replies, staring up at her. "Then I suppose you'll just have to come with us, won't you?"

  Alice Never

  I should have a plan. I really should have a plan. But as I make my way along the dark, narrow stone passageway and hear Table's screams getting closer and closer, I feel as if my mind has gone almost completely blank.

  I guess I'm just hoping that something occurs to me at the last minute.

  "No-one can hear you," the Emissary says, his voice hushed and barely audible as the storm continues to rage outside. "I sent my men away. Your soul is so valuable and appealing, I couldn't risk have them try to take a piece. It's just you and me, and an eternal feast. I hope you understand that in many ways, this is the greatest compliment you could ever be paid."

  "Go to hell!" Table shouts, her voice wracked with pain. "I swear to God, when I get out of here -"

  "But you won't get out of there," the Emissary replies calmly. "You of all people should know that certain chains are unbreakable. I'm sure you've tied up your fair share of captives over the years. You're a dab hand at the dark arts, so I'm certain you realize that you're helpless. Perhaps that's why your threats and warnings are becoming so fierce. You know there's no way out."

  As Table shouts out in anger, I reach the end of the passageway and peer into the next room. The Emissary is standing next to a low, grilled dome, under which Table's body is wedged into a tiny space that offers her no opportunity to wriggle free. Thick metal chains are running between the grills, attached to her limbs, and I'm immediately struck by the ferocity of the way she's being treated; it's as if the Emissary is determined to crush her spirit, but so far his plan doesn't seem to be working. Throwing her weight against the side of her prison, Table seems more determined than ever to get loose.

  "There's no point wearing yourself out," the Emissary says calmly. "You'll only end up hurting yourself if you keep fighting. It makes no difference to me, of course. Your soul will still taste just as sweet whether or not your body has been reduced to a bruised mess. Still, for your own comfort, it might be better to surrender sooner rather than later. There's nothing you can do, so why not make this more pleasant for both of us?"

  "You won't keep me in here forever," Table sneers. "I don't care how long it takes me, but one day you'll make a mistake. It might take a week or a month or a year, or even a hundred years, but eventually you'll give me just half a chance, and I promise you, I'll get out of here and make sure you pay a thousandfold for every second you've get me in this place."

  "Fine words," he replies, "but -" He pauses, and suddenly he turns to look directly at me.

  I duck back out of sight, but deep down I know it's already too late.

  "What's this?" the Emissary says, his voice filled with a sense of curiosity and amusement. "It seems we have a visitor."

  Realizing that I might as well at least pretend that I intended to be seen, I step back into sight and make my way cautiously through the doorway. I still don't have a plan, but I can't help thinking that there has to be some way for me to loosen the chains that are keeping Table held captive.

  "Forgive me if I'm wrong," the Emissary says with a faint smile, "but I thought you were supposed to be long on your way by now, Alice. Didn't I give you more than enough information to get your journey started?"

  "I can't leave her here like this," I say firmly.

  "This isn't your world," he says darkly, "and the people here don't ma
tter to you."

  "You know I can't catch up to my parents," I tell him. "I could tell, even when you showed me that map, that you figured I was doomed. I'm not afraid to admit that when it comes to crossing the Library, I need someone to help me along the way, and so far the best person for the job has been Table." I pause for a moment. "When she wasn't trying to kill me, anyway."

  "So you've come back to ask me to set her loose?" the Emissary replies.

  "I've come back to offer you something in return for her freedom," I continue, surprising myself until, suddenly, I realize that there's one thing he might want to take from me. "I have a soul too, you know," I remind him. "Table's soul is from around here, but mine has come from another world. I'm a human, and as plenty of people have told me over the past few days, humans are very rare in the Library. So I figure you might prefer to take my soul instead." Glancing at Table, I see that she's hard at work on her chains, and it looks like she has a plan. I guess I just need to distract the Emissary for a moment longer. "What's it to be?" I ask.

  "The choice is hardly difficult," he replies. "I have already captured a girl whose soul will continually regrow and give me fresh sustenance. Why would I exchange that for the soul of a petty little human?"

  "Quality not quantity," I tell him. "You'll get bored of Table's soul eventually. There's no way you can just sit here and gorge on her forever, whereas I'm something very different. I'm a one-off. You don't know when there'll be another human in the Library, at least not one who's so willing to offer herself to you. Wouldn't one taste of a human soul be better than a lifetime's supply from within the Library?"

  "You make an interesting point," he replies after a moment, as Table continues to work furiously on her chains. "I would like to take your soul, Alice, but I also wish to retain control of Table." He takes a couple of steps toward me. "Perhaps I should just take both of you."

  "No," I reply, shaking my head. "It's one or the other."

  "Says who?" he asks with a grin. "I don't see any kind of army with you, girl. I'm fully aware that the prisoner is working on her chains behind my back, convinced she can get herself free, but she has absolutely no chance."

  I look over at Table and see that although she's still furiously trying to break her chains, she doesn't seem to be having much luck.

  "I'm no fool," the Emissary continues, taking another step closer. "You should have tried to go after your parents while you had the chance. Your odds were extremely low, but there was still a very slight possibility that you might have muddled through. As things stand, however, you're now far too late, which means there's nothing for you to do but bow down before me."

  "Let her go," I say firmly, even though I feel as if I'm running out of options. It's clear that Table isn't going to be able to get free on her own, and I don't think I'm the kind of person who can come up with sudden, brilliant plans.

  "You're in over your head, girl," the Emissary replies with a smile. "All you can do now is -"

  Before he can finish, there's a sudden banging sound behind me; I turn just in time to see a small metal box fly through the air, whizzing past my head and hitting the Emissary's shoulder. The box drops harmlessly to the ground, but for a second, all I can do is stare and try to work out where I've seen it before.

  "Some kind of plan of yours?" the Emissary asks, reaching down and grabbing the box. As he holds it up, a small door falls open, and I realize that the walls are made of small bars. "What are you trying to do?" he continues. "Confuse me to death?"

  "I -" I start to say, before realizing that the little box is definitely familiar; in fact, I know exactly where I've seen it before.

  "Duck!" screams a voice from nearby.

  Turning, I spot a small object flying straight toward my head. Instinctively, I duck down just as the object flies over me and lands straight on the Emissary's face; I look over and see that some kind of small creature has wrapped its arms and legs around the Emissary's entire head, while letting out some kind of high-pitched scream.

  "Get the keys!" Table shouts at me.

  "What?" I reply, stunned by what I'm seeing.

  "Get the keys!" Table shouts. "Quick, before he gets free!"

  Spotting a set of keys hanging from the Emissary's waist, I reach out to grab them, but he moves out of the way just in time. Pulling the small creature from his face, he holds the elf-like beast up.

  "Nodby!" I shout, stunned to see that somehow he managed to get here from the desert.

  "This is why I never leave my cage!" Nodby screams, clearly in a blind panic as he tries to get loose from the Emissary's grip.

  In a split second, I look down at the Emissary's waist and see that although the keys aren't within my grasp, I might just be able to grab his sword. Realizing that it's now or never, I reach out and grab the sword's hilt before pulling it free from the sheath. Turning, I try to raise the sword above my head, but it's too heavy and the blade slams down against the stone floor; determined not to show weakness, I take a deep breath before forcing myself to lift the damn thing, and finally I turn to face the Emissary.

  "What are you going to do with that?" he asks with a smile, still holding Nodby with one hand. "Wave it at me a few times?"

  "What do you think?" I reply, summoning the last of my strength and finally swinging the sword straight at him, throwing the last of my strength behind the blade until I feel it strike his chest, at which point I tumble forward and clatter to the ground, letting go of the sword in the process. Nodby lands nearby, and I crawl toward him before turning and seeing that the sword has been left embedded in one side of the Emissary's torso, and he's stepping back with a shocked look in his eyes.

  "Get the keys!" Table screams.

  "I didn't mean to kill him," I whisper, stunned as I see blood pouring from the Emissary's wounds.

  "This is no time for regrets," Nodby mutters, racing past me and grabbing the keys from the Emissary's waist, before running over and starting to unlock the chains that are holding Table down.

  "You'll pay for this," the Emissary gasps, wincing as he tries to draw the sword out from his body. Finally, he drops to his knees and lets out a cry of pain.

  Behind him, Table finally manages to get out from the grilled dome, and with a look of great satisfaction on her face she walks toward the Emissary and stares down at him.

  "Here," she says, reaching down and grabbing the hilt of the sword. "I think you've got a nasty splinter there. Let me pull it out for you." With that, she pulls the sword free; as the Emissary cries out in agony, Table holds the bloodied sword up and examines the blade. "Not bad," she continues, turning to me. "For a human, I mean. I didn't know your species was capable of stepping up to the plate like that."

  "Is he going to die?" I ask, trembling as I watch more blood flowing from the Emissary's wounds.

  "I doubt it," Table continues, walking over to the wall and grabbing one of the flaming torches that have been used to light the citadel. "The Emissary's been around, and he usually survives. He's got plenty of other names. Some call him the Overseer, others call him the Tyrant. Some even claim that his real name is Gum. I guess it doesn't matter. Still, he always finds a way to keep on going and hook up with a new master." She tosses the torch at him, and the Emissary's clothes immediately catch fire. "Whoops," she adds.

  "You'll pay!" the Emissary shouts, desperately trying to get rid of the flames.

  "I'm in a good mood," Table says, turning to me. "Where are your parents?"

  "They're being taken to something called the horizon point," I tell her, "but I don't know where -"

  "I know where it is," she replies, "but we're going to have to hurry. Are you any good at running through mud and rain?"

  "I'm not," Nodby says, as the Emissary screams behind us.

  "Then you'd both better learn," Table replies, "because if we don't get to the horizon point soon, Alice, I don't think you're ever gonna see your parents again."

  Thomas Never

  "This is
crazy!" I shout, even though I doubt I can be heard through the driving rain. "It's never going to work!"

  "Have a little faith!" Carstairs shouts back as he gives the cockpit cover a final kick, knocking it out of the way. "Sorry, old girl," he adds, before leaning inside.

  "I don't feel pain," the Angel replies. "Only joy at your return."

  "Thomas!" Carstairs shouts. "Come and give me a hand!"

  Climbing carefully up the side of the plane's fuselage, I have to be extra careful not to slip on the wet metal; finally I manage to lean into the cockpit, at which point I almost fall out again in shock. Strapped into one of the seats, there's a skeleton wearing full flying leathers, although parts of its skull have been badly damaged.

  "This is Jimmy," Carstairs says, carefully unbuckling the safety belts holding the skeleton into its seat. "He was a damn good spark in his day, and a dab hand at the ukelele. Unfortunately, he was badly injured during our final mission. I wanted to get him home so he could be buried in his family's local church, but things didn't quite work out that way. Still, beggars can't be choosers. Give me a hand, will you? Grab his legs."

  "His legs?" I reply, desperately hoping that I don't actually have to touch the corpse.

  "We need to free up some space in the cockpit," Carstairs continues. "Some weight, too." He waits for me to help. "Come on, Thomas. If we don't get going soon, we might not get to your parents in time."

  Realizing that I can't back out now, I take a deep breath before grabbing hold of the dead body's legs. I can feel the bones knocking together beneath the fabric, but I force myself not to think too much about what I'm really doing; instead, as Carstairs eases the corpse's shoulders out of the seat, I try to only think about the best way to carry this Jimmy guy out of the plane. It's not easy, since the fuselage is still hanging almost straight down, but finally I'm able to back out onto the top of a nearby shelf. Slowly, and with extra caution since the whole place is soaking wet, Carstairs and I carry the body out and set him down.