Chasing the Prophecy (Beyonders) (56 page)

Within an hour Aram had the
Valiant
anchored off the eastern coast of Windbreak Island, just south of the new crater. Two launches made for shore, eight passengers in each, including Jason, Farfalee, Jasher, Drake, Aram, Nia, Heg, and a very pale and weary Corinne.

After landing on a strip of beige sand, Corinne flopped onto the beach, facedown, arms spread wide, as if trying to embrace the ground. Breathing deeply, she held the pose for a long moment. Jason squatted beside her, and she raised her head to look at him. Particles of sand clung to her lips, nose, and chin. Her face was ashen, with dark smudges under her eyes. Even worn out and sick, she remained pretty.

“Does it feel good to be back on land?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m better already. Not all the way back yet. Might take a little time. The warm sand feels divine. I almost feel like eating something on purpose.”

“We’ll have to be fast,” Jason said.

“Don’t you dare,” Corinne scolded.

“Our enemies could catch up any minute,” Jason explained.

“I know.”

“Farfalee said the research might take days.”

“I like her.”

Jason saw that the others were ready to move out. A pair of drinlings had been assigned to guard Corinne. “I have to go.”

“Take your time. I’ll come find you when I feel better.”

“Such a nice beach,” Jason said, looking up and down the narrow stretch of sand. “It would be a shame to barf all over it.”

Corinne threw a handful of sand at him. He could tell she was already feeling more like herself.

Jasher strode over to Corinne and laid the sheathed torivorian sword on the sand beside her. “This belongs with you.”

“Thanks. You’re welcome to take it.”

The seedman shook his head. “I have my own sword. I want you properly armed.”

Another group of drinlings was heading toward the beach in the skiff that had trailed the
Valiant
out of Durna. “What are they up to?” Jason asked.

“Foraging,” Jasher said. “You know how much food the drinlings require. They thought it wise to fill the hold while they have the chance.”

“I hope they find stuff we can eat too,” Jason muttered.

“We’ll be all right,” Jasher replied. “The
Valiant
was well provisioned when we took it. The drinlings have left the best stores for us.”

Jason followed Drake and Jasher off the beach and into the vegetation. There were thick shrubs, some with big, glossy leaves, and tall palm trees. Before visiting Mianamon, Jason might have labeled it a jungle, but the plant life was tame compared to the southern rain forest. The absence of suffocating humidity and carnivorous plants was appreciated.

Although this forest was not draped with vines or teeming with wildlife, the foliage did screen the library from view as Drake and Jasher paralleled a burbling rivulet up the slope. After Jason pushed through ferny limbs for his first clear view of the Celestine Library, he stopped and stared.

The massive structure was magnificent. The overall impression was of multiple blocky buildings and thick towers inventively piled together to form a single elaborate complex. Seven domes were now currently in view, some higher or larger than others, all decorated with elaborate scrollwork and gilded patterns. Their staggered arrangement suggested there might be a few lower domes on the far side as well. Many huge windows and skylights interrupted the exotic masonry. Elevated walkways connected some of the towers. Arches and colonnades abounded. The vast library possessed little symmetry, hugging the sloped terrain like packages artfully arranged on a stairway.

“It’s amazing,” Jason said as Farfalee emerged from the brush behind him. “These guys took their libraries seriously.”

“Think of all the knowledge inside,” Farfalee said. “The texts on Edomic alone make this the greatest treasure house in Lyrian.”

“It has held up well,” Jason noticed. Although the tremendous building seemed ancient, there was no apparent damage. No tumbled towers or cracked domes or even broken windows.

“This library was built to last by the best wizards and craftsmen of an enlightened age,” Farfalee said. “The structure is fortified with
Edomic. Protective mandates are expertly woven into the thick stone walls, the foundation, the wood, the glass, the furnishings, even the surrounding earth. Otherwise, the library would lie in ruins by now.”

“Some similar sites have been spoiled by intruders over the years,” Aram added. “Here, the Maumet kept away treasure hunters and vandals.”

Farfalee started toward the Celestine Library across a field of feathery brush broken up by crooked sheets of jagged stone. Shorebirds circled and squawked overhead. As Jason advanced through the brush, small hopping insects cleared out of the way. At first he thought they were grasshoppers, but closer inspection showed they had eight legs and a vaguely crablike shape.

A generous plaza preceded the main entrance to the library. None of the flagstones was broken. No weeds sprouted up through cracks. A stone balustrade enclosed the area, with empty stone planters spaced at intervals, and statuary in the corners. A huge, dry fountain dominated the plaza’s center. No fewer than twenty cherubic statues frolicked in the basin and on the shelves descending from the parched spout. All the marble toddlers had chubby features and dimpled joints.

On the far side of the plaza, thirty stone steps swept up to a massive, arched entrance. Giants would feel small in front of the heavy doors.

Farfalee led the group across the plaza and up the steps. Their footfalls seemed too loud. Several of the drinlings looked around disconcertedly, with weapons drawn. Jason did not blame them. The exterior of the library seemed too lavish to be so lifeless.

Farfalee paused before a set of double doors more than three times her height.

“No knobs, handles, or keyholes,” Aram observed. He spoke softly, as he might at the entrance to a church.

“Solid,” Heg noted.

Farfalee nodded distractedly. “We would fail if we sought entry by force.” She placed her fingertips on the door and spoke an Edomic phrase.

As always with Edomic, Jason sensed the meaning without being able to pinpoint the individual words. It was always tricky to translate Edomic into English. Farfalee had basically asked the doors to open for a seeker of illumination.

Quiet as a drop of water sliding down a window pane, the massive doors swung inward, slowly and evenly, revealing an expansive lobby. A polished marble floor extended before them, seamless and swirling with slightly metallic colors. Light streamed in from various windows and shone from luminous stones on the walls. The air felt still and old without smelling musty.

“You knew the password?” Jason asked.

“I did not command with Edomic,” Farfalee clarified. “Simple words and phrases are used to trigger preset commands in buildings such as this. I used what was once considered the standard Edomic solicitation for entry to a storehouse of learning. I was worried that the doors might be sealed by Edomic commands or that powerful wards might shield the building. Had that been the case, entry might have been close to impossible for any besides Maldor himself. But no special defenses had been engaged. The doors probably would have responded to any number of polite Edomic requests for admittance.”

“Will there be safeguards beyond the doors?” Aram wondered.

“Definitely,” Farfalee said. “Be forewarned—do not attempt to force doors in a place such as this. Some rooms or wings may be protected by powerful and even deadly commands. If a door is locked, let me be the judge of whether we should attempt to pass. Also, do not browse the collection. A repository of this renown
will contain many traps, including books designed to harm the patron who opens them.”

“Why?” Jason asked.

“Much of the knowledge here could be dangerous. Those who created and managed the library feared the collection falling into unenlightened hands. Hence, safeguards were installed. I know most of the clues that mark harmful books. Speaking generally, don’t remove any of the texts from the library. Not a single page. And don’t touch any of the art, weapons, or treasure that you see. Nearly any item of that sort will be rigged to unleash catastrophe.”

“There will be treasure?” Aram asked, his voice pained. “And weapons? And we can’t touch them?”

“Certainly not any of the pieces on display,” Farfalee emphasized. “Nothing hanging on the walls, decorating the tables, or featured in niches. If in doubt, ask me.”

Heg whistled softly. “Should some of us wait here at the doors?”

Farfalee gave a nod. “That might be a wise position for anyone lacking a particular assignment. I recommend that Aram lead a party to the top of the highest dome to keep lookout. Unless I am mistaken, the vantage will be outfitted with an array of optical enhancers. I’ll keep Jasher, Drake, Jason, and Nia with me, to assist in my research.”

“All right,” Aram said. “Three with me. The rest man the door.”

Farfalee led Jason, Drake, Jasher, and Nia through the entryway and into the lobby. High above, one of the smaller domes capped the vast chamber, perhaps forty yards across. The murals on the walls looked freshly painted. The lower murals depicted underwater scenes with exotic fish swimming among sharks, squids, eels, and other aquatic predators. Higher murals featured wizards on land, harnessing the elements to attack cities, combat armies, and battle monsters. The paintings and carvings on the
domed ceiling showed clouds at sunset, birds, and a variety of fanciful winged creatures.

“I thought the Repository of Learning was big,” Jason said, head craned back. “It was just a tiny satellite branch.”

“Only two other libraries in Lyrian ever rivaled this one,” Farfalee said. “Before abandoning us, Eldrin demolished both of them, together with several lesser repositories and the former residences of many wizards. Only the Celestine Library has remained untouched.”

“I suppose we can thank the Maumet for something,” Jasher said.

“I consider the guardian much easier to thank now that it has scattered on the wind,” Drake remarked.

Three large archways led out of the impressive lobby—one directly across from the entrance, one to the left, and one to the right. All the archways had strange characters engraved above them.

Farfalee walked purposefully toward the archway across from the entrance. “We should find the index records this way. Dare I hope that some of the guides have survived?”

“Guides?” Jason asked. “As in workers? Librarians?”

“Not living guides,” Farfalee explained. “No loremasters or historians would have survived these secluded centuries. The guides principally assisted in cataloging these larger libraries. They were Edomic constructs, not living, but brimming with information.”

“Like computers,” Jason said.

Farfalee looked at him blankly.

“In the Beyond, our libraries have complicated machines with information about all the books.”

“Your computers might serve a similar function,” Farfalee said. “But the guides are not mechanical. Nor are they truly sentient. Some nearly possess the illusion of life thanks to complex Edomic workmanship. Certain wizards devoted their careers to such projects.”

They passed beneath the archway into a short hall. Along either side, heavy doors alternated with arched recesses housing stately busts. Instead of ending, the hall became a downward stairway, not steep, but quite long. It took fifty steps to reach the landing. Farfalee ignored the doors there and descended another long flight. And another. Jason realized that, as immense as the library had appeared from outside, much more of it was concealed underground.

The stairs deposited them in a tubular room that looked like the inside of a long barrel. No sunlight reached this deep place, and the stones in the walls glowed dimly, leaving much of the room in shadow. A counter stretched from wall to wall, restricting access. Behind the counter, rows of tall shelves extended into the distance. The smell of leather and old paper saturated the air.

“Look at all those books!” Nia exclaimed.

“This is merely the index,” Farfalee said. “If we can’t find any guidestones, we’ll search here by hand.”

Jason gawked in despair at the endless shelves. How many of those thick tomes would they have to examine simply to find the right area to begin their search?

Drake stretched his arms over his head and grimaced. “I think this is where I wander off and go for a swim.”

Farfalee glared at him.

“Let me rephrase,” Drake tried. “My instincts warn that I had best hasten to the beach to help keep watch.”

Placing both hands on the countertop, Farfalee kicked her legs sideways and vaulted it nimbly. “Don’t lose heart,” she said, scanning the rear of the counter. “A facility of this quality would ordinarily boast any number of— Here we are!”

Farfalee crouched behind the counter and came up with a wooden tray of hemispheric stones. After placing the tray
on the counter, Farfalee selected a blue hemisphere with light green veins.

Cupping the stone in her hand, she spoke in conversational Edomic without commanding intent, and a bluish, translucent man appeared beside her. Wearing a breastplate and helm, a hefty sword at his waist, the spectral figure stood tall, with broad shoulders and brawny limbs.

He greeted Farfalee in Edomic. She asked a question. Something about what other languages he could speak. Jason found that as he attempted to focus on the individual words they spoke, his comprehension grew muddled. He understood better when he only paid casual attention.

“Did she have to pick the dashing soldier?” Jasher grumbled.

“My sister has an eerie sense for these things,” Drake replied, suppressing a grin.

“I don’t mind the choice,” Nia chimed in, sizing up the ghostly soldier appreciatively.

Pausing from her conversation, Farfalee turned to the others. “This should dramatically accelerate the search. Meet Tibrus. He is one of more than a hundred guides at our disposal.”

“Do the others look like him?” Nia wondered innocently.

“If so,” Jasher mumbled to Drake, “I may join you for that swim.”