The Forbidden Library (33 page)

“What’s the ship made of?” Turesobei asked. “I can tell it’s not wood.”

“The frame and the booms for the skates are wood,” said Narbenu. “That’s what makes ships so incredibly expensive. The rest is processed hide. The skates are made from the spines of ice behemoths, and the hides comes their treated skins.”

“The creatures would have to be huge!” Zaiporo said. “I hope we don’t run into any.”

“We won’t,” Narbenu said. “The ice behemoths roam the lands of the Northeast. The yomon are the ones who kill them, mostly for sport. Goronku scavengers follow behind them, bravely, and gather up the bones and hides to sell.”

Fifteen men worked on the two-decked ship. It looked as if they were preparing to set sail. A sixteenth man up in the crow’s nest spotted Turesobei and his companions and yelled out a warning. Immediately half the crew gathered javelins while the other half worked frantically to pull up the ship’s two anchors and lower the square, battened sails.

“We’re not going to reach them in time,” Iniru said.

“I’ll race ahead and talk to them,” Narbenu said, “Think my mount’s got a little burst left. The rest of you slow down. We need to earn their trust.”

“Be careful.” Turesobei glanced behind him and saw the faint outlines of the yomon. “And hurry. Lu Bei, pop into my pack. Let’s keep you a secret and not alarm them with anything more unusual …” Turesobei glanced at Motekeru. “Than we already must.”

Narbenu sprinted his mount, guiding it with his knees, his hands raised above his head. Luckily the sailors didn’t hurl any javelins at him. When he reached the ship he began talking with one of them. Whatever he said must have worked because they allowed Turesobei and his companions to close without attacking, though they still held javelins at the ready and looked nervous, especially when they spotted Motekeru who sent a wave of murmurs amongst them. Turesobei twice heard someone utter the word
demon
. The skin around the human sailors’ eyes was baojendari pale — the rest of their faces were covered with gray scarves — but they had physical builds like zaboko. Or it seemed so anyway. It was impossible to accurately judge their sizes when they wore just as much clothing as Turesobei did.

Narbenu was bargaining with the lone, crimson-clad, incredibly rotund goronku who stood amongst the sailors.

“Captain Boki of the
Falcon’s Cry
,” Narbenu announced. “I have persuaded him not to kill us nor leave just yet.”

The ship groaned as the winds pulled at the half-lowered sails. The large iron anchors were beside the ship and were now one good tug from being lifted off the ice.

“Captain Boki,” Turesobei said, bowing. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I won’t say the same to you,” Boki replied with a gruff lisp. He was about to say something else, but he spotted Motekeru. “Who — what — are you people?”

“We come from the land beyond the Winter Gate,” Turesobei said. “Please, we are in a desperate hurry.”

“There are too many of you,” the captain replied. “It would weigh the ship down.”

“I can pay you,” Turesobei said. “Handsomely.”

“We’re already laden with cargo,” the captain said. “We can’t —”  The captain’s eyes widened and he stammered unintelligible words. 

“Yomon!” the sailor in the crow’s nest shouted, having spotted them. He must’ve been distracted by Motekeru to not have noticed the yomon sooner. 

One man dropped to his knees and began praying to the Crimson Sun. Another cursed his fate. Most of them clutched to their weapons and trembled, murmuring amongst themselves. Tears rolled from the corners of a few sailors’ eyes. 

“We need to get out of here
fast
,” Turesobei said. 

“You — You have terrible enemies,” Captain Boki stammered.

“Please. We must get to the Forbidden Library.”

“If we help you, the yomon will hunt us as well,” the captain said.

“Your ship could easily outpace them,” Narbenu said.

The captain barked orders and his men finished lowering the sails. “The Forbidden Library won’t allow you in.”

“You know how to reach it though, right?” Iniru said.

“Of course I do.”

Turesobei pulled out a large bag filled ivory, copper, jade, and pearls. He had three more bags like it, hidden. He opened the bag. “This is yours — all of it — if you take us.”

Eyes narrowing, Captain Boki rubbed his hands together. “You understand I’m not responsible for the library taking you in.”

“I understand.” Turesobei glanced back to see the yomon closing to within half a league. “We don’t have much time.”

 The captain gestured toward Motekeru. “That thing safe?”

“He’s my servant,” Turesobei responded.

Boki closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. “Lower the gangplank! Make ready to sail!”

Moments later the gangplank thumped onto the ice and they rode their sonoke, one at a time, up the gangplank. The yomon were now a quarter-league away. Awasa rode on the shoulders of one. About a dozen of the yomon, who were faster than their brethren, raced ahead of the pack. The yomon carrying Awasa was not one of those.

“Who in Torment is that girl?” Boki said.

“Oh, that’s my fiancé,” Turesobei replied. “It’s a long story.”

“I should think so. Don’t try to double-cross me, boy. Or you’ll regret it.”

“I won’t,” Turesobei replied.

Narbenu whispered in Turesobei’s ear. “Be on your guard. They’ll try to rob us as soon as they get a chance. The only difference between a pirate and a trader out here is that a trader already has his hull full of goods to sell.”

Once Turesobei and Narbenu rode onboard, Motekeru raised the gangplank by himself, a feat which greatly impressed the five sailors it took to raise the other one. 

The yomon charged down the beach. The sails puffed with a strong breeze. The sailors raised the anchors. The ship lurched forward on the ice … and stopped. Then it jerked forward again and continued inching along. 

"Sobei!" Iniru shouted, readying a spear. "The yomon!"

Snarling and brandishing their onyx-bladed weapons, the dozen yomon running ahead of the others neared the ship. Some were closer than others.

"Battle stations!" Boki cried. 

All the sailors not working the sails gathered their javelins or drew out hand-axes. Boki gripped the wheel and bowed his head. “My greed’s killed me. Winds are too weak, the ship’s weighed down, and there’s no time to dump the lot of you. It’s over.”

“Captain,” Turesobei said. “Keep your hands on the wheel. You’re about to get a big boost of speed. Be ready.”

Turesobei began to chant a low-powered version of the
spell of Spring’s first gust
, a medium-level wind spell he’d had no need for since he’d learned more powerful ones at age twelve. Good thing he still remembered it.

Narbenu thumped the puzzled captain on the shoulder. “He’s not kidding about being ready. He’s a wizard. He’s casting a wind spell.”

“Sobei!” Awasa screeched, her voice shrill like fingernails scraped against a writing board. “Sobei, you’re mine!”

While casting the spell, Turesobei watched as the first yomon came within range. Three sailors attacked it. Two javelins struck one of the vermillion-skinned savages in the chest. The points barely punctured the skin and the yomon swatted them away. The other eleven closed within range. The sailors unleashed a barrage of javelins, and it did almost nothing but annoy the yomon. Their skin was too thick for a normal weapon to damage them. One yomon got struck in the eye by a javelin, and the point went deep. It fell to its knees, howling mad, and ripped the javelin out. Then it picked itself up and staggered forward as if drunk.

Motekeru shoved sailors aside and stepped to the edge.

A yomon leapt toward the ship. Motekeru opened his mouth and spewed searing flames that engulfed the yomon but didn’t stop its momentum. The scorched yomon crashed into him, its brushlike mustache on fire, its eyes melting. The two fell onto the deck. Motekeru raked the yomon with his claws, hit it with another burst of fire, and tossed it aside. The yomon turned into a pile of ash. A second yomon jumped onboard and with his axe chopped the head off a sailor. Motekeru belched a sustained burst of flames and melted the yomon into oblivion. But then a third yomon barreled into Motekeru and pinned him.

Iniru stabbed a fourth yomon with her spear. The point slid in between its ribs ineffectively. She darted back as it swiped at her with a spiked club. A sailor then struck it in the back with an iron sword. The yomon spun and smashed the sailor’s head into a red mist. Narbenu charged in and chopped hard with his hafted-axe, the blade slicing deep into the yomon’s neck. It didn’t kill the yomon, but the brute sagged to its knees, dropped its club, and grasped at its neck.

A fifth yomon climbed onboard, ignored three javelin strikes, and a sword-strike, and shouldered into Narbenu, knocking him across the ship. Kemsu stabbed it in the stomach, but the yomon grabbed the spear, ripped it from Kemsu’s hand, and clubbed him with it, knocking him flat. It raised its club to attack Kemsu, but Iniru darted in and struck it with her spear, nicking it on the chin, which was just to distract it into turning away from Kemsu toward her.

Motekeru incinerated the yomon who had tackled him. Then he turned toward the fifth yomon and burned it to ashes before it could hit Iniru. But this time the flame spluttered a bit at the end. Motekeru was using the most heat he could manage. Turesobei could feel it all the way across the ship. It was fortunate the ship wasn’t on fire. He feared Motekeru wasn’t going to be able to manage many more bursts like that.

Six more yomon were only paces away from the ship, and the other seventy-six yomon and Awasa weren’t all that far behind. A sixth yomon jumped up and tore into three sailors, wounding them and knocking them back. As soon as they were clear, Motekeru hit the yomon with a weakened spurt of fire and shouldered into it, knocking it back onto the ice, where it writhed in agony, grasping at its face.

At last, Turesobei completed the spell.

Blasted directly by the wind, the sails popped taut. The masts creaked under the strain. 

A seventh yomon leapt toward the ship as it rocketed forward, skates screaming on the ice. Everyone onboard staggered backward. The savage demon missed the ship and fell belly-first onto the ice.

Chapter 42

The keening skates sliced across the ice as the ship zoomed along, powered by Turesobei’s wind spell. In the distance Awasa howled with rage, but her voice soon faded away.

“We’ve got two dead, Captain!” a sailor shouted. “Three injured, one’s in bad shape.”

Captain Boki shut his eyes and sighed. “Patch up the wounded, first mate. Patch them up. It’s all we can do.” 

“And the dead, sir?”

“We can’t stop now. Store the bodies for later burial. Mop the deck.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Bile rose into Turesobei’s throat as he stared trancelike at the two headless bodies. A sticky crimson droplets were freezing onto the deck as the lifeless eyes from one severed head stared accusatively at him. The other head was nothing but a splatter of crimson gore and white matter splattered across the deck and many of the sailors. Motekeru was wiping the mess off his body. 

Enashoma buried her head in Zaiporo’s chest, turning away from the dead men. Turesobei wished he could turn away, but he couldn’t. He choked back a sob and nearly vomited. Those two men were dead because of him. Men who probably had families who loved them and depended on them. This was
his
fault. If he hadn’t come to this ship, those two sailors would still be alive. This wasn’t their fight. He should never have endangered these innocent people. Kemsu was right. Everyone he encountered was in danger. Everyone one around him would suffer and eventually die. There was no other way.  

Iniru knelt beside Kemsu and put her fingers on his neck while Motekeru helped Narbenu to his feet. 

The goronku scout groaned miserably. “I’ll be okay, feel like I’ve been run over by a sonoke. Or two. I’ve never been hit that hard in my life. Surprised it didn’t just punch right through me. Kemsu? How is he?”

“Knocked out,” Iniru said. “His pulse is good. I think he’s going to be all right.” She looked up at Turesobei. “You okay?”

He didn’t respond. He merely stared, blankly, as the healthy sailors bandaged their wounded brethren and pulled the two bodies together, side-by-side.

“Sobei?” Zaiporo said. “Something wrong?”

The ship began to slow.

Captain Boki slapped Turesobei on the shoulder. “Hey, is the wind supposed to be giving out on us already?”

Turesobei snapped out of his trance. “What? No. Sorry. I let my focus go. My mind was too far from the spell.” This wasn’t a spell he could cast and let work on its own. Like most spells it had to be maintained. The only way for it to be otherwise would be to let the surrounding air kenja rush into it uncontrolled, which wasn’t an option in the Ancient Cold and Deep. As he restored a bit of focus to the magic, the winds picked up again and the ship’s speed increase.