As he neared, he could make out what definitely looked to be a small number of guards, along with two other figures who looked familiar.
“Oh, bollocks,” he said out loud, unthinking. He was hoping that he would have been able to avoid them until the morning. Chancellor Grey and Percival. He was sure they were going to make him feel bad for abandoning his post or whatever you call it when you’re Lord Protector and you don’t do any lording or protectoring.
“I deserve a fucking day off occasionally,” he grumbled to himself.
Chancellor Grey stopped a few feet ahead of him and didn’t speak while the guards moved stiffly around him to be at his rear. He couldn’t see her face very well, but he could sense that she was upset with him. Oh, fuck. Best to just get it over with, he supposed.
“I’m sorry,” he shouted begrudgingly. “All right? I’m sorry.”
“No, Mareth. I’m the one who is sorry,” consoled Grey. She nodded, and then Mareth heard a thud and felt a delayed pain in the back of his head.
All went black before he hit the floor.
Chapter 18
The Librarian
The ground came up quickly to meet her, the ooze-mother enveloping Neenahwi completely. She could see the sparks of blue light dancing in the slime all around her, thankfully held an inch away from her face by the shield she was maintaining. The other aspect of herself had maintained the protection, even expanding it to envelope her completely; and so when she had hit the bare earth she did not so much as get her robe dirty. Keeping out the acidic slime was also an important bonus.
Neenahwi looked around, trying to assess the situation, her anger rising, the demon stone calling out to her to draw on more of its power. She pulled at a thread of raw mana, bringing the energy into herself. But what was she to do with it? Fire didn’t hurt the slime. She could bash it some more, but that didn’t seem to do much to the globlings. And she was running out of time. Her sealed shell protected her for the moment, but she was already finding it difficult to breathe. If she blacked out, then all her fractured awareness would drift off too and the shield would fall. Neenahwi considered that she’d probably be dissolved by the slime before she suffocated. Of course, she probably wouldn’t be aware of that if she was unconscious, which would at least be some blessing.
These were the thoughts that raced through Neenahwi’s mind as she assessed her predicament. Why did her brain do this to her? It was hardly helping.
The sparks of blue danced throughout the slime above her. It was almost mesmerizing. She wondered what this creature was thinking, what messages these bursts of energy could be conveying.
Then it came to her.
She drew on the demon stone’s mana, picturing in her mind a dark, roiling cloud; the wind rising and the rain lashing down like the storms that she knew as a child on the plains. She built up the image insider her, then she released. Arcs of lighting shot out from her in all directions into the ooze, initially searing small pin pricks in the surface, but then lancing right through the creature. She traced one in the split second of its travel—where it met a blue spark, many offshoots sprang away, cascading and colliding with others until the ooze-mother was one giant luminescent mound.
The next moment the light was gone. The lightning had finished its journey, lancing into the air above, and the blue lights had stopped their fairy dance. Neenahwi crossed her fingers and hoped that she’d guessed right. That those lights really did mean that the ooze was basically one massive brain. It wasn’t moving, which she took as a good sign. She rolled onto her stomach and crawled toward where she hoped would be fresh air. Her hands scrabbled at the rocks as she pulled herself forward, only now aware of how much weight was being pushed down on the shield. At least the slime was not gripping, and a few seconds later she plopped out onto the clear ground like a calf eventually freed from its mother’s womb.
Neenahwi took a great gulp of air, sucking it deep into her starved lungs. Eventually she stood, quaking, glaring at the mound of translucent matter, her anger uncontainable. She raised her arms and fire leapt from her fingers, bathing it in a hot blue flame. All the while she screamed in rage. It still did not burn, but she was partially satisfied as the ooze melted and evaporated into the air.
“Well, I—” began a voice from above her before she called to cut it out.
“Don’t say a fucking word!” she shouted. “I’m coming to see you next.”
The head wisely went silent as Neenahwi stepped around the puddle of ooze and proceeded inside the tower. Unlike the tower in Redpool, kept spotless by the Caretaker, this place was a mess. The inside of the building was a single triple-height room, with shelves lining the circular walls. In the center of the room was a circular steel staircase that rose to the wooden ceiling, where it ended at what was probably once a trapdoor to another room but was now just a blasted hole. At two intervals up the staircase were open mezzanine floors and scattered all around were pieces of paper and torn books, seemingly tossed from the shelves in an act of vandalism that only served to enrage Neenahwi further.
Sensing no one nearby, she ascended the stairs, eager to make it to her annoying commentator and establish what exactly was his problem. The mezzanine levels showed signs of further disturbance. A desk ransacked. More books, written in a spidery scrawl, defiled. And on the very top-most level— a dismembered body. She gritted her teeth at the grisly sight. Neenahwi averted her gaze, discovering the arms and legs scattered away from the torso that was propped against the wall, as if the body had been leaned there before the grisly deed had been done. Strangely, there was no blood.
Neenahwi continued up through the burnt hole to arrive in the highest chamber of the tower. What must have once been a bed and some simple furniture was now little more than splinters and tinder. The sun shone through the single window, and silhouetted against the bright light she could see the head balancing on the ledge, looking out across the island.
“Welcome. Would you mind turning me around?” said the head, more politely than it had previously managed.
Neenahwi approached it with some trepidation, unsure if this was another trap. She had half a mind just to poke it out of the window with a length of wood and see how it felt after rolling down the hill, but she also realized that the demon stone was making her particularly irritable. The head was severed in a clean line at the neck, apparently providing a stable base for it to balance. Long hair plaited in a top knot, in the center of an otherwise shaven head, hung down. She was no expert in decapitations, but once again she expected there to have been more blood. But then again, she also expected that severed heads didn’t keep talking, either. Neenahwi reached out tentatively and picked it up by the top knot. She flicked the side of the head with her other hand where it spun freely from its hair pendant, and she quickly put it back down facing her.
The face that was revealed was stern, that of a school master or guardsman primed with questions, and adorned with a long mustache that drooped down to the window ledge. Its complexion had the look of a slightly moldy piece of bread, green spots blossoming in patches on the cheeks and forehead. She took a step back.
“I would thank you, but first I would have you state your business,” said the head. “Or there will be consequences.”
“Are you threatening me? You’ve got no arms. Or legs. What are you going to do? Bite me?” mocked Neenahwi as she removed the demon stone from around her neck, putting a stop to the blood connection. She held it sharp side up in her hand, knowing she could clench her fist at any moment and draw on its power if she needed it; but right now she needed to calm down and understand what was going on.
“Answer the question, and you will not need to find out.” She knew bravado when she heard it, and this head was plumbing the depths of it. But there was no point antagonizing it right now. She imagined she would not be in the best of moods were she in its position.
“My name is Neenahwi, daughter of Jyuth. This is the tower of Myank I assume? Are you
he?”
“Jyuth, did you say? That name sounds familiar. Let me think.” His eyes looked up into the air as if he was searching his memory; Neenahwi would have guessed that if he still had his fingers to hand then he would have been stroking his mustaches right about then. “Fat man? Kind of full himself?”
“Yes. I suppose,” said Neenahwi, stifling a chuckle. “Has he been here?”
The head laughed. “No. He’s never been here. Only I, Ridwan, was favored to be here with our master.”
Neenahwi was glad she had removed the amulet. This head, and its bombastic way of speaking, was annoying enough without the nagging desire to set fire to everything. Our master? “Were you a student of Myank as well?”
“I ask the questions here,” said the head of Ridwan haughtily. “Why are you here?”
Neenahwi rolled her eyes, the whole situation feeling faintly ridiculous. “I’m trying to stop Llewdon. I think it has something to do with Myank. I guess I’m trying to discover more about your old master so maybe I can work out what Llewdon is up to and put an end to it. What do you say to that?”
“I say bravo!” Ridwan smiled, before his brow furrowed in consternation. “It was his foul demon who did this to me, The Librarian. If only you had been here before. It seems Jyuth has trained you well.”
She was relieved that the head was warming up to her, she didn’t want to add defenestration to the decapitation it had suffered. “Ridwan, when were—”
“You may call me The Librarian.”
“All right,” she huffed. “Librarian, when—”
“No, it’s The Librarian.”
“But that doesn’t exactly slip off the tongue. If I say ‘The Librarian, when were they here?’, it doesn’t sound right.” Neenahwi put her hands on her hips. She was glad Motega was not here to see this. He would be pissing himself with laughter right about then.
The Librarian thought it about it for a moment. “I suppose Librarian is fine. Continue.”
“As I was about to ask you, Librarian, when were they here?”
“I have seen the sun rise forty-three times since then. I have also seen five thousand three hundred and eighty-two sheep. Though I must admit that many of them may have been the same ones.”
Shit. She wasn’t too far behind them, less than two moons, but they’d be far away by now. “What did they do when they were here? Besides chop you up. And how are you still talking by the way?”
“My master made me into a wight. I followed my master, here to his library. He told everyone to leave, but I knew he would need my help. So, he gave me my title and made me so I would not die. And it appears that state is a constant, even when I am not in one piece. Did you perchance happen to see my other parts?”
“They’re downstairs.”
“Are you any good with a needle?”
Neenahwi could see where this was leading, and she didn’t have any intention to get caught up stitching this poor bastard together. “I’m afraid not.”
“Shame. I am certain your magic will not heal me, at least not in the traditional way. If only you were a necromancer.”
“Yes, if only.” Neenahwi rolled her eyes. For a dead man, the Librarian was awfully long winded. Come to think of it, maybe it was because he was dead and had all the time in the world. It would probably be best to limit her conversations with the wight once she had some inkling of what had happened. “Now, back to my original question. What did they do when they were here?”
“There was only one that walked on two legs. He had the form of a human, but I am no fool, I could smell he was a demon. He had a bird that flew around the tower and he came with two evil looking creatures, like dogs they were that had been turned inside out. The dogs held me down while the demon carved me up. He placed me on the sill to prevent me seeing whatever it was they were doing. You know, what with it being hard to turn around. But by the sounds of things, and what I can see now, they were looking for something. I saw them leave, and the demon had a pack stuffed with things, but I don’t know what they took.” The Librarian’s eyes rolled around in his severed head as he looked around the ransacked room. “It looks like they had a fair rummage through his possessions. Tell me it is not such a mess in the library!”
Neenahwi sighed, and pushed his question out of her mind. She didn’t need what was left of him to get hysterical. What had she missed out on? Why would they take Myank’s personal affects? She needed some way to understand where Myank had gone, or what he had done for Llewdon to think that he had ascended. She thought back to the journals that Jyuth had left her, that he had painstakingly created in those early days when he had left his role as student to venture out into the world. Maybe, he had picked up that habit from someone else.
“Tell me… Librarian. Did Myank keep a journal? Did he write his thoughts down?”
“Of course he did. Why do you think I am the Librarian? All the books downstairs were written by him. It’s my job to preserve his knowledge.”
Neenahwi looked down the trapdoor to the tower below and the three levels of paper-based chaos. Shit. She had a lot of reading to do.
Chapter 19
The Campgrounds
Gwil left the Department for Pilgrim Affairs and began her walk home. The pilgrimage was now underway, the first of the lucky chosen ones making it to the campsite just a few days ago, and thousands more had been arriving each day since. Reports from around the empire had shown that everything was progressing according to plan; the weather had cooperated and the facilities along the route had all been well stocked in time. She’d always taken pride in knowing that the pilgrimage went smoothly; there was no event more important in the whole of the empire and logistics of planning the movement of tens of thousands of people was always a difficult challenge, even with two years to prepare for it. But this one had to go off without a hitch. This was her pilgrimage, the time in her life that she had been preparing for and she wanted the people of Fymrius to remember it.
She decided to take the long way home and meander through the campsite. Gwil loved seeing all the different people from around the empire brought together. Before the empire had existed, she’d known that humans like her had been little more than savages, living at the edges of elven society. If it hadn’t been for their Emperor adopting them as his own people, she had no doubt that they would still be scrapping amongst themselves for things of no consequence. She often heard news from the Department of Expansion, about the peoples that lived beyond the northern border of the empire, around the rim of the Sapphire Sea; but she found it difficult to comprehend how they lived their lives, beholden to a few who inherited their position, while they fought for food or to move up a few rungs on a ladder that sounded like it rested on nothing but sand. Once again, as she did most days, she uttered a silent prayer of thanks to her god and Emperor.
The campsite was a riot of color and sound. People played music while others danced gaily. Citizens who had never met each other sat around campfires and shared the food of their homes. People waved to her as she passed and she couldn’t help but give a wide friendly grin to anyone who caught her gaze. Off to the side of the campgrounds were displays from the various empirical departments for the pilgrims’ interest and amusement. The Department of Construction showed a scale model of the new Hall of Heroes that was in the process of being built. The Department of Schooling and Science presented new theories on mechanical physics to a small group of academics. But the most popular exhibit was from the Department of Expansion. Soldiers in green and gold dueled with thin swords, their movements so fast the weapons were reduced to an occasional glint of steel in the sun.
Another field next to it, hosted by the same department, had a throng of people already waiting, though nothing was happening yet. They would have been attracted by the rare sight of the giant bear that was chained to anchors in the ground. Pyrfew as a whole was safe from the many dangers that she knew existed in the wider world. Thankfully, there were no bandits, or thieves o
r murderers; but much of the empire was wild land. Deep forest or uninhabited grassland or swamp; and though the roads were kept largely safe, sometimes there existed predators that would take the lives of good citizens before they had the honor of reaching their pilgrimage. This giant bear was one such danger that the people of Pyrfew knew to fear. Gwil had not been keen on this demonstration when it was presented to her by the Department of Expansion, she thought it too bloodthirsty and cruel for such a joyous celebration, but she had been over-ruled by Tynir. He said he knew what people wanted, so she had acquiesced.
She knew she should simply move on, but she couldn’t help but wait to see if her concerns were true. Unfortunately, what happened next was just as the written outline had described.
A soldier near the chained beast struck through the chain with her blade, the sharp swords of the imperial guard strengthened by Llewdon’s will. Suddenly free and faced with a group of cheering people in front of it, the bear became enraged and roared wildly. It looked about, seeing a cordon of soldiers behind and to the side. The beast was smart enough to be wary of the green and gold troops, and fixed its attention once more on the crowds of pilgrims instead. It roared a deep bellow again, perhaps hoping to send the people blocking its escape running for safety, but instead they applauded and laughed openly.
The bear charged.
Gwil took an involuntary step back and made to turn, but from the group of watching pilgrims stepped four handlers. They each held glass balls in their hands, glinting in the sunlight as they raised them into the air and tossed them toward the on-coming bear. Their throw was short, as it was supposed to be. From each of the shattered objects leapt dwylligin, dog-like creatures, each as tall as Gwil’s hip. Their short, pointed ears tucked back against their skulls as they raced to meet the bear. Their burning red eyes, lack of fur, and translucent skin made them a strange sight indeed. The dwylligin were of the ancients; the first one she had seen was a pet of Taaffe’s. He had finally been able to breed more, and make them easier to transport. Eight dwylligin collided with the bear at the same time, and Gwil finally wrenched herself away to continue her walk home. She heard the sound of snarls, whimpers and the grinding of bones in teeth. She had no need to see what the dwylligin could do, she’d seen it once before. In fact, she should never have stopped to watch—the whole sorry sight left her feeling depleted. Gwil had known she wouldn’t enjoy it.
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