by Megg Jensen
"By Drothu, they are covered in black boils!" Vron stumbled backward, grabbing Dalgron and pulling him away. "It is a infection."
"We assumed as much, too." Dalgron gestured for Vron to follow as he headed back up the crude tunnel. "We've decided to seal off all entrances to the mines."
"Have you evacuated the living?" Vron asked. He was dumbfounded that there had been an outbreak underground and no one had bothered notifying them aboveground.
Dalgron stopped and turned, his stony eyes meeting Vron's. "The living will soon die. They were exposed. Evacuating them will only harm the rest of us."
"Why did you bring me down here?" Vron asked, suddenly weak on his feet. His exhaustion coupled with this revelation, threatened to bring him to his knees.
"I need you to enforce the order. You are my greatest warrior. The others will listen to you. I needed you to see and understand what we are dealing with." He stepped closer, his nose almost touching Vron's. "We've already suffered so much loss of life from the xarlug attack. Our city has been destroyed. Our orcs need to seek refuge in other cities in Doros. If word gets out that we also harbor sickness, we will be shunned. Our orcs will be left to live off the prairie. You know we cannot sustain ourselves out there."
"What if there's a cure? I can ask Alyna—"
"Your faun has left us, Vron. Can you reach her quickly? Do you even know where she lives?"
Vron opened his mouth, then quickly shut it. He didn't. Alyna had never shared the exact location of her home with him.
"We have no choice, then. We will work to close all entrances to the mines. You will supervise the work, and you will tell them you personally toured the mines and no one is left alive. Do you understand?"
Vron swallowed his protests. Lying was something he abhorred. Still, he knew Dalgron was right. If they allowed the miners to bring the sickness aboveground, they ran the risk of killing everyone who'd managed to survive the xarlug attack.
"I understand," Vron said, regretting the words even as he spoke them.
Chapter 8
Tace woke early the next morning before the sun rose. In the darkness, she slipped out of the bedroll she shared with Ademar, careful not to wake him. He needed his rest, seeing as deep in the night, after Brax had taken to snoring, she had roused Ademar with a hungry kiss. She knew that once they entered the Library of Filamir, it was unlikely they'd have any time alone; the library was very clear on what was and was not acceptable within their walls, and sex was utterly unacceptable. Apparently, it distracted the residents from their studies. Tace thought they must have boring lives, indeed.
She pushed through the brush to the edge of the forest, where the dirt-packed earth of Doros met the sandy beach. She yanked off her boots, tossed her socks on the ground next to them, and ventured toward the shore, her feet sinking in the sand. Granules slipped between her toes as she stepped closer to the water. She reached out with one leg and dipped her toes in the chilly tide.
She closed her eyes, wondering what it would feel like to swim in the water. Not that she'd ever know. Though Agitar was close to the shore, she'd never been in water deeper than the contents of a washbasin. She didn't know how to swim, nor did she suspect she'd ever learn.
Raseri flew out over the ocean, dove sharply, and caught a fish. She tossed it in the air, then grabbed it again with hungry jaws and swallowed it whole. She dove again and again, filling her belly.
"Morning," a voice said behind Tace in the orc tongue.
Tace spun to see Ademar coming up next to her.
"Going to clean up before we head to the library?" he asked.
Tace laughed. "No. I'll use a proper basin once we've secured rooms."
Ademar wound an arm around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. "I wish we could stay together."
"It wouldn't be proper. Not even married couples are afforded that luxury in the library."
"To them, the search for knowledge is a religion. Breaking their conventions would hurt our cause." Ademar sighed, then kissed Tace's ear.
Tace glanced back toward the tree line. "What if Brax wakes up?"
"You're fooling yourself if you think he doesn't know."
Ademar was right, of course. Brax knew. Alyna knew. Probably even Vron knew. Still, Tace wanted to keep pretending nothing was going on between her and Ademar. Then she wouldn't have to think about what it meant—or if it meant anything.
She leaned into Ademar for only a moment longer, then broke away. Pulling on her socks and boots, she said, "We need to move. The library isn't far. I want to be there as the sun reaches its zenith. Can you wake Brax?"
"Of course." Ademar jogged back into the forest.
Tace's shoulders sagged. He was too nice to her. Too eager to please, both in bed and outside of it. As a young orc, she'd dreamed of a mate who could match her in battle and bed. Ademar was so... soft. So human.
Moments later a groggy Brax emerged from the forest, rubbing his eyes. "I barely slept last night."
Tace held in a snort. Barely slept? He'd snored most of the night! "Hopefully you'll get better sleep tonight in the library," she responded in the human language.
The words were awkward on her tongue, but she knew how to speak it well enough. Most orcs did. The orcs felt it was an advantage to know how to speak it, so most taught their children—though they were careful not to let the humans know this was common practice. If an orc ever had to speak with a human in the human language, they acted like their knowledge was an anomaly.
Tace and the two humans returned to the camp, packed it up, and mounted the horses. As Tace settled comfortably onto the draft horse's back, Raseri on her shoulders, she tried to ignore the men's discomfort. She'd been riding these large horses her whole life; she shouldn't think little of them for having trouble with theirs. Still, at times she had to hide a chuckle behind her hand. Sometimes traveling with the humans was like traveling with children.
They rode hard, and by midday, they were at the entrance to the library. Tall stone walls towered over them, standing at least ten times their height. The sun glinted off the spires soaring above them.
"I'll announce us," Ademar offered, riding ahead. He pulled on a long rope, and a bell clanged inside the walls.
A wooden panel shifted to the side, and a head poked through, a long, gray beard unfurling beneath it. "Why have you come to the Library of Filamir?" he asked in the human tongue, then repeated the question in the orc tongue.
"To learn. To study. To contribute." Ademar's words were odd, but they seemed to please the man.
"Then you may enter."
The man's head disappeared, and he slammed the panel shut. A loud grating noise rasped as part of the rock wall moved to the left. Impressed, Tace reached out to touch the wall, but before her fingers could make contact, Ademar knocked her hand back.
"Don't," he said out of the side of his mouth. "Follow my lead. Touch nothing. Don't even talk to anyone."
"If you think you can tell me what to do, human—"
Ademar got in Tace's face. "I've been here before. You haven't. You think you know everything, but you don't. You need to do as I say for once."
Ademar dismounted, signaling to Tace and Brax to do the same. Then he turned his back to them, facing the wall as he waited for it to open fully.
Tace thought about smarting back, but decided to let him lead. Wasn't that precisely what had annoyed her about him—that he was too soft? Perhaps Ademar had more strength than she realized.
"You may enter," said the man behind the door. To Tace's surprise, he stood only as high as her waist, and his long beard swept the ground. She wanted to ask if he was a dwarf, like Myrk, whom they'd met at Raseri's home in the Frozen Wastelands, but she knew it would be rude to question his heritage like that. She'd ask Ademar later.
"Your dragon is welcome to enter as well," the man said. "It has been a long time since one has graced our library. We are honored to have her. And your horses will be cared for by ou
r stable hands. But please, leave your weapons with me." The man pointed to a trunk on the ground. "They will be returned to you upon your departure."
Tace unsheathed her daggers and laid them gently in the velvet-lined trunk. She hated parting with them, but she knew she could rely on her physical strength should anything happen within these walls. When Ademar and Brax had also deposited their weapons, they walked through the opening.
"Make sure you register at the front desk," the short man said. "They will require information about you before they allow you access to our library. They will also instruct you on our code of conduct. Have a nice day."
Before Tace could respond, the man climbed a short staircase, so his head was level with the wooden panel. He grabbed a handle on a crank and began turning it, closing the entrance they'd come through. With a resounding boom, the stone wall returned to its place.
Raseri cuddled into Tace's neck, and Tace reached up to scratch the dragon's chin. Perhaps they both felt the same concern over entering a strange place with guarded exits. If Pesha was here, they could fly out, but it would likely be many years before Tace could ride on Raseri's back. "It's okay," she whispered, more for her own sake than Raseri's.
"There's a desk ahead," Ademar said in a low voice. "They're going to separate us. It's likely we'll be asked the same questions, so keep your answers truthful. Remember, we have nothing to hide. We came here under honorable circumstances. We need their help, so don't do anything that might cause them to find us suspicious. They let us in, but they can kick us out at any moment."
Tace and Brax nodded. Brax had been speechless since they'd arrived. Tace assumed he was just as intimidated as she was. As a military man, it was likely he preferred brawn over brains, like her. A place where the mind was revered made them both uncomfortable. For the first time, Tace felt some affinity with the man.
Ademar burst into laughter at their silence. "It'll be fine. No one here can hurt you. I think you'll like the library once you give it a chance."
At the end of the hallway, a huge desk carved from obsidian spanned the entire breadth of the hall. A being sat behind it, smiling, but Tace couldn't identify its race or gender.
"How can I help you?" Like the man at the entrance, this being asked its question in both human and orc tongues.
"We request entry to the Library of Filamir," Ademar said. "We've come from Agitar seeking knowledge. Perhaps you've heard of the trouble there?"
The being nodded. "Yes, we have heard something of it. You are our first primary source. How can we be of assistance?"
"We need to understand more about the legends of the Nether and Drothu. Is there someone here who can help us?" Ademar said.
Tace kept quiet during the exchange. She'd promised Ademar she'd let him speak, and she'd be damned if she reneged on that. He had done everything she'd asked him ever since that morning they were thrust together by Kindara in Agitar, when the old woman had arranged for them to meet because of a vision. Now it was time for Tace to give Ademar the same courtesy.
"I believe there may be a way we can help," the being said. "But first, we will have to interview each of you separately, to be sure your intentions are pure. We won't allow any warmongering in the library."
"Understood," Ademar said.
The being looked at Tace, then its gaze came to rest on Raseri. Its mouth opened, and it uttered cooing sounds similar to the ones Raseri made when with her mother.
Raseri responded with an enthusiastic string of coos of her own.
"All four of you may enter, then. Please, follow my companion. Your interviews will begin shortly," the being said.
Tace followed their guide into the vestibule of the library, surprised it had communicated so easily with Raseri. It was the largest building she'd ever laid eyes on. The floors and walls were constructed of marble, and a quiet peace emanated through the space. It was like arriving in a new world, one so foreign Tace felt as if she were an interloper.
The guide pointed her toward a room, and she entered. As the door closed behind her, she shot one last glance at Ademar. She didn’t want to admit it, but she would miss his advice. As she took a seat on a wooden chair, she felt annoyed with herself that she'd come to depend on the human male so quickly.
In front of her, a male elf sat behind a long desk covered in books and parchment. Ink stains dotted the wooden surface. Tace hated elves. They were untrustworthy and arrogant, just like Kazrack, who'd stolen the orc throne with magic.
The elf smiled lazily, tapping his feather pen on a blank piece of parchment. "Welcome, Tace. I have only a few questions for you. I trust you'll be able to answer them."
"I'll tell you anything you need to know," she said, holding her chin high, refusing to let him see her trepidation.
"Tell me, do you adhere more to the principles of the Defiants or the Consecrated?" he asked.
Tace fumed. "How is this relevant?"
The elf cocked his head to the side. "Didn't you come here seeking knowledge about Drothu? Your religious beliefs will come into play when you decide how to interpret the information you find. There are facts, but facts are rarely conveyed without bias. Now, I ask again, do you adhere more to the principles of the Defiants or the Consecrated?"
Tace hesitated. Her father had been murdered for his beliefs in the Defiants. To him, Drothu was nothing more than a myth. It had pained Tace for many years, and she had worked hard to make up for his renegade beliefs. The assassins' guild had provided her with a chance for redemption. Doing Drothu's work by killing those who deserved to die had brought her closer to salvation. And yet, she had never stopped to think about what she truly believed—only what she thought would save her father's forsaken soul.
As the elf stared at her with his mocking eyes, she thought long and hard about her answer. She needed the library and the information it held to help her orcs back in Agitar. Whatever she said had to be the right answer for the library—not necessarily the truth in her heart.
"I don't adhere to either," she said.
"Liar. Tell me the truth, or I will deny your request. You will be thrown out on your ear and never allowed to enter the Library of Filamir again."
Tace seethed with anger. How dare he treat her like this? It was insulting. "I am not here for an interrogation. I am here to help the orcs. If you cannot see that, then perhaps my time here is wasted."
The elf smiled, then laughed. "You certainly live up to your reputation, Tace of Agitar."
"My reputation?" she asked, confused.
"We collect knowledge," the elf said, "and we have others out observing the world and sending back reports at all times. Yes, we know of you here. We know more about you than you do about us. But that is not relevant now."
The elf grabbed a feather pen, dipped it in an inkwell, then signed his name with a flourish on a piece of parchment. "I will allow you entry, but do not be mistaken. We will be watching you very carefully."
Chapter 9
Brax sat on a hard, wooden chair facing his interrogator. He could call her nothing else, certainly not the name she'd given him—Melethiel. She'd asked him question after question after question, each of them more perplexing than the previous.
"What color is an iris?"
"Purple with some white."
"Does a horse run on two legs, or four?"
"Four."
"Do chickens lay eggs or clovers?"
Brax covered his face with his hands. This was ridiculous. They'd been sent to the Library of Filamir to get answers, not to waste their time with pointless questions.
"Do you know the answer?" she asked gently.
"Of course I know chickens lay eggs instead of clovers!" Brax yelled, despite his every intention to remain calm. He rested his hands on his knees, digging into his kneecaps with his fingertips. The pain was a good distraction.
As the elf studied him, a beam of sunlight burst through the window, setting her hair alight with silver sparkles. Her eyes bored into his. B
rax stared back just as intently. He refused to break eye contact first.
She fluttered her eyelashes twice, then sat back in her chair with a smile. "You may enter the library, Brax."
"I passed the test?" He was incredulous. "If that was all it took, then why does the library have a reputation for refusing most who seek its knowledge?"
She leaned forward and rested her clasped hands on the table. "You are a warrior, are you not?"
Brax nodded.
"I wasted your time. I asked you questions beneath you. I annoyed you, didn't I?"
Brax's jaw was set. He didn't want to answer that question.
"And yet you didn't raise a hand to me. You didn't tell me how to do my job. You respected me and my position." The elf's smile grew. "That is how you passed the test."
"You don't want anyone causing trouble here."
"We do not. I believe we are safe with you inside our walls."
Brax thought of his companions; he hoped they had fared as well as he did. Tace had a temper that outmatched anyone Brax had ever known.
"Your friends won't receive the same test," Melethiel said.
"Were you reading my mind?" Brax asked angrily.
"No, of course not." She chuckled. "Everyone who comes here has their own test to pass. Some are easier than others. Yours, as a matter of fact, was quite simple. We weren't worried about you. I only wanted to be sure you would not strike out in anger if annoyed. Sometimes the keepers of the knowledge aren't as forthcoming as seekers would like."
"Seekers?"
"You are a seeker," Melethiel said. "Everyone who comes here comes seeking answers. Our keepers do their best to assist them. You might think knowledge is a bunch of boring old facts, but in reality, knowledge is about digging deeper inside yourself."
Brax was a practical man. He believed he and his companions only needed to find a book about Drothu. It wouldn't take long, and then they could be back on the road again. But if what Melethiel said was true, their task might be more complicated.
