by Krista Walsh
Jeff smirked. “Afraid someone is out to assassinate the texts?”
The man shot him a withering look. “Some of these texts, sir, are over a thousand years old. They require the perfect amount of dryness in the air, lack of light, lack of oils from human skin to preserve their quality. The queen may have given you permission to enter, but I don’t take kindly to gawkers who like to poke and prod at my wards.”
Jeff held up his hands in surrender, thinking the archivist appeared to require the same conditions to preserve himself. An older gentleman, his skin looked thin and papery, covered in fine lines, as though he’d begun to morph into the items he so treasured.
Brady stepped in to smooth relations. “You don’t need to worry about us. I’m caretaker of my own library at Feldall’s Keep, and Mr Powell here is an author of books. No one will be more cautious with them than he and I.”
The skepticism remained on the archivist’s face as he said, “How can I be of service to you today?”
Brady cleared his throat and pulled Maggie’s list out of his breast pocket, carefully smoothing out the creases in a nervous gesture. “I’m hoping you have some information on an old ritual, designed to bond one’s mind to that of a dragon?”
Keegan’s brow rose with interest. “Ah, you mean the—” Here he said a word that to Jeff sounded like “toffee drizzle,” but Brady nodded and agreed that was it.
“Any aspect of the ritual in particular? It’s a very dangerous one. I’m afraid we don’t have a complete text on how to perform it, if that’s what you were hoping.”
“Actually, as it happens,” Brady began with lots of starts and stops, “I have a near-complete copy at home, and I’ve already performed the ritual. It worked. I think.”
Jeff noticed Keegan’s expression—surprise mixed with a hint of envy and curiosity—but the archivist didn’t interrupt as Brady filled him in on everything that had happened after the ritual.
Once he finished, and Keegan’s eyes were as wide as they could manage, Brady said, “Now I’m looking to learn more about what comes after. There aren’t many people who survived the process from what I can tell, and if they do, they don’t live long before the more powerful mind takes over. I’m hoping you have something that describes someone’s success? A way to share the mental space to the benefit of both human and dragon? Here’s a list of possible references.”
He sounded so hopeful that Keegan would have the answers that Jeff held his breath. He didn’t want to have to watch those hopes crumble, or find out his friend stood no chance.
Keegan’s gaze focused on the list, but Jeff caught a glimpse of the man’s less than hopeful expression. He padded over to a large coffee table book near the door and flipped through pages to find any of the books on Brady’s list. It took a few minutes, but finally he gave a grunt of satisfaction and crooked his finger for them to follow him towards a second door. Standing aside to grab a lantern from its hook on the wall, he allowed Jeff and Brady first into what felt like a dark, dry cavern. Soft sounds echoed around, but no draft or dampness reached Jeff’s cheek.
“We can’t have windows, so the queen’s engineers came up with this lighting system.”
He held the lantern up to a wick at the end of a tube, and Jeff’s jaw fell open as the flame extended along the length of the wall, around the other end over a kilometre away, and back up the other side.
Jeff could find nothing to say. Books. Nothing but books. The light exposed row after row of books, of floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with leather-bound wonders. Thousands upon thousands of histories and stories that he would have given all his success to have the time to read and learn.
“One million, three hundred and twenty-four thousand, six hundred and twelve. That is how many books are contained within the palace. The more recent texts, and the ones in better condition, are kept in the library upstairs. The archives extend beyond the entire length of the palace.”
“When can I move in?” Jeff asked, and his tone of reverence caused the old man’s contempt to soften, redeeming Jeff in his eyes.
“Follow me and we’ll see what we can find for you, counsellor.”
Jeff and Brady walked with their heads tilted upwards at the quantity of words around them. Occasionally, Jeff caught a title in the binding, but most were in a language he didn’t understand, or the lettering had long ago faded away.
“Here we are. Most of what you hope to find should be in this area here. Let me see.”
They stood patiently as Keegan walked his fingers over the spines, comparing them to Maggie’s list. After a few tomes that didn’t do much to clear Brady’s fears, Keegan let out an, “Aha!”
He stepped down from the ladder and handed over a large black book, as gently as he would an infant. Brady squinted and carefully tilted the book towards the light. He read the open page quickly, Jeff waiting in suspense until he finished and gave the book back to Keegan.
“My knowledge of the Malish dialect isn’t as strong as it could be,” Brady admitted, “but was Hamen suggesting balance is possible? He managed to live into old age, so at least we know it can be done.”
Keegan nodded. “Possibly because of how you accomplished the ritual—you say you died?—it formed the deep connection you needed to survive. If your dragon was killed tomorrow, I don’t believe you would last much longer. If you died, well, your dragon would sense it, but alas would probably be all right. You are linked not only in thought, but in energy. The connection returned life to you, so you are now, technically, more dragon than human.” Keegan looked from Jeff to Brady, gauged their inquisitive looks, and added, “Not physically, obviously. Just in life force. Because of this, I believe—Talfyr, is it?—will find a way to balance you on his own.”
Brady frowned. “But the headaches and nightmares. The seizures. It feels like he’s taking over and my body can’t handle it. Is there no way to keep him out until that balance is found?”
Keegan shrugged. “I could be wrong. This is one text of thousands. It’s also one of the only texts I’ve heard of where the human lived. You are now walking mythology, Counsellor Reed, in uncharted waters. It’s on you to tell us what happens next. And I hope Hamen is right, for your sake. And history’s.”
***
After Keegan escorted them back to the door and sealed himself in, extending both Jeff and Brady an open invitation to come back whenever they liked, Brady sagged against the wall and released a deep breath.
Jeff leaned back beside him. “You know one person lived. The odds aren’t great in your favour, but at least you know you have odds now. That’s more than we knew before.”
“My wife married a dragon,” said Brady, apparently too stunned to think more deeply than that.
“I’m sure your children won’t be scaly. They might just be wise beyond their years,” said Jeff. “Brady, come on. You’re you. You’re a little more eerie and thoughtful, with a tendency to talk in your sleep, but it’s not so much different than you were before. You’ll get through this.”
The counsellor shook his head. “In Hamen’s description, he spoke of how he lost himself sometimes, not even trapped in the back of his mind, but lost as the dragon took over. My conscious mind is still here, but what about everything underneath? Am I just a mask compared to what I was? Am I still human in my emotions, or are they memories I’m hanging onto but can’t actually feel anymore? Hamen ended up alone because he grew to hate people. Will that be me?”
Jeff clapped him on the shoulder to draw his attention back to the present. “Listen, I don’t know when that text was written, but my guess is that Hamen guy was shunned for being different, and talking to himself. That’s why he ended up alone. You’re surrounded by people who not only love you and can try to understand what’s happening, but who also know you well enough not to judge why you did something so stupid in the first place. They won’t let you go through this alone, and while I’m around, neither will I.”
Brady continued to look
dejected, so Jeff gave one more push. “And if it is only the memories of emotions you have, hold onto them. Remember how much you loved Jasmine, and the pain you felt when you couldn’t have her. Remember your joy when she chose you. Hold onto those things, and you’ll learn how to feel them again. Maybe Talfyr will learn one or two things from the lowly human.”
Finally the counsellor cracked a smile, and Jeff breathed a sigh.
“I should go fill Jasmine in. Thank you for coming with me.”
“You’re my friend,” said Jeff. “Besides, it’s research.”
Brady laughed and led the way back upstairs.
***
After the rush of the meeting, the mystery of the queen’s summons resolved, the ultimatum—find Cassie soon or be trapped in this world forever—before him, and now Brady’s concerns to weigh on him, Jeff felt almost relieved to focus his attention on his leg. Something he could sooth and fix in the short term without the risk of getting sucked up into another dimension.
Stripping off his pants, he unwrapped the bandage around his thigh and took a good look at the gash. Scabbed and red, it looked as bad as it felt. The skin around the wound was warm, and Jeff hoped the various salves Corban provided would stave off any infection. He thought about having to return to his world and go to the hospital, trying to explain how he’d come by his injury.
A mad fanatic tried to kill me with a poison-tipped arrow that almost turned my blood to clay.
The reaction would be entertaining.
As he rubbed the bee-sting juice over his leg, muscles spasming throughout his body as he hissed through his teeth, he thought of the crazy Robers that were after him, of Basten’s presumption that he was in alliance with Raul, of whoever was raising those wolves from the dead.
Like a bunch of puzzle pieces that, for now, only made sense two at a time. The wolves had to be from Raul’s followers, that much Jeff could put together. Taking a page from their late master’s book, they wanted to recreate his pets, but without the years of trial and error, or the loving care Raul had put into his creations, they were half-assed. Scary only because they were so damned difficult to kill.
Basten’s theories about Jeff. On the surface they made sense. They would have made more sense three months ago before Jeff helped destroy Raul for the final time, but the man was clearly stubborn and liked to think the worst of people. Before he left the palace, Jeff made a note to corner Basten and learn more about his suspicions, and how widespread they had become.
How were the Robers connected? If they were Raul’s followers, which seemed most likely, shouldn’t they be proof enough for Basten that Jeff wasn’t in league with Raul? Otherwise, they were going out of their way and trying awfully hard to kill one of their idol’s allies.
None of it mattered in the face of the queen’s words. He had to find Cassie. He only had so much time before he’d have to choose between being trapped in Andvell, or returning home without her.
The pressure of that decision weighed heavily on him, sapping him of the energy he already didn’t have. To the core of his being, he was exhausted. Despite how much he had slept the last few days under Corban’s watchful eye, he wanted nothing more than to curl up and hibernate until all of his problems went away.
Closing the heavy drapes to block out the afternoon sun, Jeff stripped down to nothing but his boxers as a good first step, and then bent down to look under the bed for the stool. Sure enough, it sat near the back bed-post. No matter how ridiculous it seemed to him that any bed be high enough to need a stool, he was glad to have it. With a groan, he hoisted himself up, using his hand to lift his injured leg, and stretched out under the cool sheets. The fire popped and spat in the hearth, creating shadows against the ceiling.
Exhaustion left his muscles inert, but no matter how long he lay with his eyes closed, sleep refused to take him. He tried to roll onto his side, hoping the change of position would do the trick, but his leg screamed, so he returned to his back.
Cursing, he pressed his fist against his forehead.
What a mess, he thought again, not liking that the expression had become so common over the last few days.
He was debating pacing around the room to wear his mind out as much as the rest of him when the door opened and a black-haired head poked around the corner.
“You decent?” asked Venn.
“Too late if I weren’t,” Jeff replied. “Did you walk in on Cassie as often as you do on me?”
She stepped inside and pushed the door shut before leaping onto the bed at his feet. She leaned against the bed-post, legs stretched out in front of her, looking like a shadow against the white quilt, head to toe in black. Jeff was relieved to see she had at least taken off her boots.
“Privacy’s overrated,” she said. “If we allowed people to keep fewer things to themselves, most of the crap that happens wouldn’t happen. Ever think of that?”
“What about sleep? Could sleep happen?”
Venn shrugged. “Doesn’t look like you were sleeping anyway.”
Jeff grumbled. “I was trying. Why are you here?”
Again Venn raised a shoulder. “I had nothing else to do. It’s boring being in a palace when you don’t know anyone, and everyone’s watching you as if they expect you to pinch the silver. I didn’t, by the way, so ignore what they might tell you tomorrow. I was just looking at the knives. They were cool.”
Jeff raised an eyebrow, but when she glowered he winked. Venn was a lot of things, thief high among them, but he knew it came out of past necessity. As far as he knew she hadn’t practiced that particular skill since they’d taken her away from her nomadic lifestyle.
Except for the cream tarts at Kariel’s Keep, but those had been delicious.
“Why do you look so mopey?” she asked. “I noticed all through dinner you were sulking into your plate. Pretty sure Ariana thinks you’re dumb.”
“Dumb as in mute or dumb as in stupid?”
“Is there a difference in your case?” Venn jerked her foot to give Jeff’s leg a nudge, taking the sting out of her words. “Seriously, though, what’s up?”
Jeff let out a breath and stretched, folding the pillow over his head. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place.”
Venn bounced on the bed. “Feels pretty cushy to me.”
“Metaphorically speaking.”
“This is what you’re like with your imagination back, huh? I think I preferred when you only saw things how they were. What’s the big deal? We let them close the doorway, we go back to the Keep, we get Maggie, we kill off Raul’s followers, and then you and Cassie stay here. Everyone lives happily ever after—isn’t that how the line goes?”
Except for the closing doorway, and he and Cassie’s permanent move to Andvell, Jeff knew that was the plan. Jasmine, Jayden, and Brady had talked it out before dinner and agreed it to be the most logical next step.
“I know you want to find Cassie,” Jasmine had said, voice low as if she thought speaking in confidence would make Jeff quicker to see reason, “but we’ll have more time to do that, with less risk, if we stop Raul’s cabal first.”
Jeff hadn’t argued, knowing no one else would agree with him, but he started making his own plans. Until Brady suggested they go back to the Keep to get Maggie.
“If anyone can track down an active cabal, it’s her. And maybe she could perform some kind of tracking spell at the same time. Help us find Cassie that much faster.”
So Jeff had agreed, and they were going to set out for home in the morning. If Maggie could find a spell that worked, maybe they could have Cassie back by the end of the week. Maybe it would be soon enough to get home.
“If only it were that simple, Venn,” said Jeff.
“I don’t get why it can’t be. Andvell is way better than your world. I’m sorry, but I’ve lived in both and it’s true. There, you have to do everything on your own. Here, there’s magic. Sure there are more crazy people willing and able to do crazy things,
but in your world everything is boring. Where’s the excitement? Wouldn’t you be happier here?”
Jeff closed his eyes and thought it through. Thought about staying in the Keep, taking up permanent residence in the Green Room he had claimed as his own. Thought about spending more time with Brady, learning the history of the world he thought he had created. Thought about what it would mean to be surrounded by magic, and dragons, where the impossible was possible. So many more possibilities in this world than his own.
“I wouldn’t have a place here,” he said.
“What are you talking about? Everyone here loves you. They have their own ways of showing it, but you know they’d be happy if you stayed.”
“But what would I do?” asked Jeff. “Jasmine, Brady, Jayden, Maggie, they have their roles to play in this world. You would find something quickly. But Cassie and me? She wants to be a social worker and help lost youth find their way back into society. She’s spent years working on a degree she hasn’t finished yet. As for me, I’m a writer. That doesn’t mean anything here, because who wants to read about dragons and evil sorcerers when it’s a part of reality? In my world, it’s creative and fun. An escape. Here, it would be non-fiction. Other than getting in the way in an emergency, I’m no good to anyone.”
Venn’s eyes narrowed as he spoke, as if gauging the sincerity of his words. When he finished, she waited a few moments before she said, “I think your reasons are silly, but if that’s the way you feel about it, we’ll find Cassie and send you home.”
Jeff smiled at her determination. “You say that as if it’ll be the work of a day.”
“Who’s to say it won’t be? First things first, we need to find the assholes casting all of these spells and making us worry about falling through the floor into nothing. We kill them, just like we took down the last of Raul’s crew, and then, just like Jasmine said, we gain some time to find Cassie.”
The brief surge of hope at Venn’s words faded away at the prospect of their daunting task.
