The Library - The Complete Series (17 page)

Claire

"This scar," says Natalia, as she continues to sponge me down. "What caused it? I could almost believe your back was cracked open."

"Something like that," I say, sitting curled up in the small tin bath.

She continues to wash my body. "You don't want to talk about it?"

"I had an operation," I continue, figuring I have to tell her the same story I've had to tell almost everyone I've met since I went under the knife. "Back home. I had this condition that meant my back was curving over. Eventually it got so bad, I could barely even stand up, so they opened me up and screwed a metal pole to my spine. Now I've got the opposite problem: I can't bend at all, but at least it's better than how it was before. It's not as painful, and I don't look like such a freak." I pause for a moment, thinking back to the days when I walked with a hunch and people used to laugh at me. "It's better like this," I add quietly.

"Your back is firm and straight," she replies.

"Sometimes I miss being able to slouch."

"And there is no pain now?" she asks, running the warm, wet sponge along the scar.

I shake my head. "Only if I walk for too long. If the muscles get inflamed, they could push the metal from the bone and create cracks, or the screws could come loose. Then I'd really be fucked, unless I could get home and see my doctor again." I turn to her. "Are you sure Vanguard's not free to see me today? I really need to talk to him about finding a way back to my world."

"It's best not to rush these things," she replies. "When one forces events to happen, things tend to go wrong. Life has its own currents and its own tempo. Vanguard will come to you when he's available, and he'll help you find a way home. Until then, you just need to rest and let your body heal. It's not only your back that's damaged. Your feet are bloody and sore from walking so much, and your skin is dry."

I smile. She's right about my skin: I've always had a tendency to develop eczema, particularly when I'm stressed. I break out in these sore, itchy patches, and no amount of creams or lotions seem able to calm it down. Right now, thanks to the stress of getting stuck in the Library, I've got a couple of nasty red areas on my shoulders, one on my left wrist, and a small one on my face; frankly, I look pretty ridiculous, but it's not a big deal. The big deal at the moment is the fact that I'm trapped in some kind of bizarre fantasy world. If I can get out of here and get home, I'm pretty sure the stress will subside and take at least some of the eczema with it.

"Don't worry," Natalia continues, putting the sponge into a nearby bucket before grabbing a large towel and placing it over my shoulders. "I'm sure you won't be stuck here with us for long. While you're here, though, I'm going to make sure you're in the finest health. Dry yourself, get dressed, and come back to your room for some food." With that, she heads to the door, leaving me sitting alone in the tin bath.

"How am I supposed to not worry?" I mutter quietly as I stand up and start getting dry. It's been almost a day since I woke up here in the Citadel, and the only person I've seen so far is Natalia. Vanguard is apparently busy, and there's no news of Sharpe. It's as if I'm being gently, secretly held captive in this place; I'm not entirely certain, but I get the feeling that I might run into trouble if I tried to just walk out the front door. Perhaps I was being naive, but I kind of hoped that once we reached the Citadel, someone would point me in the direction of some kind of magic portal and I'd immediately get back home. Now I'm starting to realize that the process is going to take a lot longer, although at least I seem to be being treated pretty well.

Standing by the window, I look out over the Library. Every so often, I find myself wondering if perhaps I was right when I thought I was stuck in a coma. After all, while that idea certainly seems kind of crazy, in some ways it makes more sense than the alternative: is it really possible that I've been transported to an entirely different world? Everything feels so real, but I can't shake the feeling that maybe I'll suddenly wake up in a hospital bed, with everyone sitting around me looking concerned. At the same time, though, I can tell that I'm wide awake and that I'm genuinely, truly in this place. In fact, the weird thing is that I'm starting to get used to the Library, which is something that makes me feel a little freaked out. I don't want to get comfortable here: I want to get home, and to leave this place behind forever.

As soon as I'm dry, I get dressed and head back through to my room. The Citadel seems to be carved out of a kind of pale yellow stone, and it's pretty clear that the place has seen better times: there are cracks in the walls, and every so often I'll take a wrong turn and find pieces of rubble blocking the way. Occasionally, though, it's possible to see hints of old grandeur peeking through from behind the damage; faded flags still fly on many of the balconies, while grand halls are lined with large paintings that seem to show a bygone age of glory and power. It's almost like being in a museum, except that there are still a few people living here, clinging to the hope that they can somehow find a way to revisit the past. As I wander to my room, I can't help feeling a little saddened by the determination of the Citadel's inhabitants to cling to survival, while all around them their home is crumbling.

"I found you some human food," Natalia says as I enter my room. She's busily making my bed; I don't know why, but she acts almost as if she's my servant.

"You don't have to do everything for me," I tell her.

"Of course I do," she says, smiling. "My species have served your species for centuries. It's our position in society."

"Seriously?"

"It's not exactly a hardship," she continues. "I like helping you."

"Thanks," I reply, walking over to the table and seeing a bowl of vegetables. It's not exactly a feast, but at least it's not meat of questionable origin. I still shudder when I think about the food I ate back in the Library.

"I assumed you wouldn't like Burrow Worms or Grandapam meat," she continues. "From what I've heard, humans can be a little picky about their food."

"I guess," I say, picking up a slice of carrot and nibbling at the end. "It just feels a bit weird to realize you were having a conversation with your food just a few hours before dinner, you know?"

"Times are difficult," she replies. "I'm afraid we can't afford to be too picky. Meat is meat, and Burrow Worms have kept many of us alive in the years since the Forbidders came."

I open my mouth to ask her about the Forbidders, but at the last moment something seems to stick in the back of my mind. I'm still trying to remember exactly what happened to me out in the Library when I was forced to go up to the top of the shelves. I remember talking to someone, and I remember some kind of creature coming up behind me, but after that everything goes a little blank. I'm pretty sure I fell off the shelf at some point, though, and Vanguard carried me to the Citadel. I just wish I knew what happened in that space in-between being up there and coming down; it seems a little suspicious that my mind just happens to have failed to keep those memories.

"Tell me about the Forbidders," I say eventually. "What are they? Where do they come from?"

"They come from one of the other words," she replies as she finishes making my bed. She walks over to the table and starts taking the bowls of food off the tray. "At first, we just heard rumors. People would come from far away and tell us of these creatures that had arrived on the edge of the Library. It seemed like nonsense, but gradually the stories became more insistent. Then one day we started to see the smoke, rising into the distance. More and more stories reached us; people were talking about these creatures, warning us that they were destroying everything in their past. Still, we weren't sure about the truth, but the smoke came closer and closer. Finally, an emissary arrived, claiming to be a representative of the creatures. He spoke to the Librarian, and then he left. And it was just a few hours later that we learned the Librarian had fled."

"He ran away?" I ask.

She nods. "We all thought he was a good man, but he turned and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. There was shock and despair at first, followed by a realization that there was no end in sight for this war. No-one has seen him since, but I hope he rots. He should have stayed with us and fought the creatures, but instead he chose to save his own skin. There's no excuse for such behavior. Since then, the Forbidders have taken over most of the Library, spreading their influence further and further with each passing year. Some say there are still lands that have not been conquered, but others believe the Forbidders now control the whole of the Library; if that's the case, it would seem that the Citadel is the last place that they don't rule."

"Why?" I ask. "No offense, but this place doesn't look particularly difficult to attack. I don't see a huge army guarding the place, or any kind of defenses at all. I mean, we just strolled right inside, so why haven't they taken the Citadel?"

"I don't know," she replies, looking a little uncomfortable. "I suppose they must have their reasons." She takes the tray and hurries to the door. "I have chores to complete," she says, turning to me, "but I'll come back in a few hours for your bowls. Try to eat as much as you can. You're still weak from the journey, and I'm afraid I must insist that you get better."

Once she's gone, I head over to the window. The thought of spending the whole day just 'getting better' doesn't really appeal, and I'd rather take a look around the Citadel. I doubt Natalia would approve, since she seems determined to treat me as if I'm some kind of chronic patient. Now that she's busy, though, I guess I can take a little tour of some of the nearby corridors and rooms; I just need to make sure that I'm back before she realizes I've gone anywhere. As I'm about to turn away from the window, however, I spot something moving in the aisles directly below. It takes a moment before I realize that a small group of men seem to be making their way to the Citadel, almost as if some kind of delegation is on its way. I feel a cold shiver run through my body as I realize that one of the men looks a little familiar; I don't know where, but I'm certain I've seen him before. As I continue to stare, the man glances up toward the window. I step back, but I think he saw me. I can't help thinking that maybe I'm one of the reasons he's here.

V
anguard

"There was a time," says the Elder, "when I believed we could stop the war. It might seem now that I was hopelessly naive, but I genuinely thought we had a chance of bringing peace back to the Library. But wars are like fires; sometimes they take hold, and they will only end when they have consumed everything in their path. I'm afraid this is the case with the Library now, Vanguard. Everything is to be destroyed; by the time the cries have ended and peace returns, all of us shall be long gone."

Standing next to him on the stone balcony, overlooking the entire eastern side of the Library, I can't help but share his pessimism. From this vantage point, the war seems immense: covering hundreds of square miles, it burns the shelves and sends thick black smoke rising into the sky. While the front-lines move slowly, their progress is relentless and it is clear that within a few more years the entire Library will have been completely destroyed. It is impossible to comprehend a force that could ever be sufficiently powerful to stop the carnage.

"The Librarian -" I start to say.

"Fled," the Elder replies, with a hint of bitterness in his voice. "When it became clear that the war could not be stopped, the Librarian turned and ran. How a creature of such infinite wisdom could believe the flight would be the best option, I cannot imagine, but his departure broke the spirit of all of us in the Citadel. Most of the other Elders departed a few days later, the rest withered and died. I remain here merely because I cannot bear to be the one who leaves the Citadel deserted. I cannot bear to be the last of my people to leave."

"I cannot believe that the Librarian would merely abandon the land," I reply. "Perhaps you mis-interpreted his actions? Perhaps he has instead gone to find help?"

The Elder shakes his head. "It is quite clear that he has abandoned us. He has been gone for so many years, and he has left no word of his intentions. Before he left, he spoke of the Forbidders and suggested that there was nothing that could be done to stop them. He has clearly departed for the farthest reaches of the Library, where he will wait until the war eventually reaches him. Then, and only then, will he realize his terrible mistake, but by that point it will be far too late."

"Not if someone goes and fetches him," I say. "He can be tracked down and brought back here. I will drag him if necessary, but he will return to this place and make a stand with the rest of us."

"Do you know his form?" the Elder asks. "Do you know the sound of his voice? Do you know which way he ran? You could search and search for a million years, Vanguard, and you wouldn't even realize when you found him. You must face the truth; there is nothing that can be done. The Forbidders control the Library, and they encourage the war to continue. Only the Citadel remains, and even this place..." He pauses for a moment. "An emissary from the Forbidders is coming here, even as we speak. He has made it known that he intends to bargain for control of the Citadel. I have yet to learn what he will offer, but I see little reason to argue with him. Any meager offering will be better than nothing."

"You will not turn the Citadel over to them," I say firmly.

"But they want it so desperately," he replies. "Perhaps they will pay a handsome price?"

"Under no circumstances," I tell him. "While we still have the Citadel, we still have hope. While the Citadel remains out of their hands, there will be a chance that we can fight back and defeat them."

"And you would cling to that chance forever?" he asks. "Even when the rest of the land is burned up and gone? Would you prefer to still be standing here, looking out across nothing but ash, with no way of ever leaving the Citadel again?" He stares at me. "Such a cowardly option, Vanguard. I must have been mistaken when I thought you had more honor."

"I will meet this emissary," I say. "I will look into his eyes, and I will listen to what he has to say, and then I will tear him apart with my bare hands. Besides, we both know we he wants. There is only one thing he and his kind have ever wanted since they first appeared in our land. They want death and destruction."

"Do you really believe that to be true?" the Elder asks. "Is it not possible that they want something more refined? Something more specific? What kind of creature would lust after nothing more important than pure carnage?" As he speaks, a bell sounds from deep within the Citadel. "Perhaps you will ask the emissary this question when we greet him in the Great Hall. He is here now; we must go and meet him."

The Elder leads me back into the Citadel, through its labyrinthine corridors and, finally, into the Great Hall. It is somewhat sobering to be here again after so many years; when I came to this place before, the Librarian held court over the land, and the Great Hall was always busy with the chatter of his assistants. Now the cavern is deserted, and the Librarian's throne stands empty at the far end. It is hard to believe that all the glory and honor of this room has been driven away, yet I cannot deny the empty, sober feeling that now lurks here as we wait for the entrance of the Forbidders' emissary. Despite my urge to kill the man as soon as he arrives, I know I must instead be patient and wait to hear what he has to say.

"He comes," whispers the Elder, as the door at the other end of the Great Hall is opened. A group of soldiers enter first, followed by a tall, dark-haired man who walks with the confidence and poise of someone who believes he has the upper hand. It is quite clear that he views this meeting as a mere formality, and that he expects no trouble from us. As far as he is concerned, we are probably a beaten and broken group, with no option other than to accede to whatever demands he might make. Dressed in black armor and with a sword strapped to his back, he seems supremely confident.

"I am Reith," the Elder says, bowing to the emissary. "I am one of the original Elders of the Library, and it is in that position that I welcome you."

The emissary stands before us and stares at the Elder for a moment. "You are the last one?"

"The others are gone," the Elder replies.

"Gone?" the emissary says. "Or dead?"

"They have passed," the Elder says.

"Then you have sole power to negotiate?" the emissary continues. "It is important for me to know I am dealing with someone who has the right to deliver what he promises."

"He will be making no promises," I say, stepping forward. "I am Vanguard. I am a Lord of the House of Lacanth. I have slain ten thousand men. I have led armies around the entire circumference of the Library, and I can assure you of one thing: you will not gain control of the Citadel. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever."

The emissary stares at me, before finally smiling. "Well," he says, "I'm glad we can agree on something. The Citadel holds no value for us whatsoever. No offense, but it's just a lump of stone. Perhaps it has some symbolic value, but my masters aren't particularly bothered about that kind of nonsense." He walks over to the abandoned throne and inspects it closely. "Nice chair."

"Do not touch that!" I shout at him.

He turns to me. "No?"

"That is the throne of the Librarian," I explain. "He is the only one who is permitted to touch it. If you go any closer, you will be performing a great disservice to this place."

"Oh." The emissary steps away from the throne. "I'm sorry. It just looks like a fancy chair to me, but I'll take your word for it." Sighing, he walks back over to us. "As I said, we're not interested in symbols. We'll leave those to the people who place value in such things. What we want is somewhat smaller, but more physical." He smiles. "We want to end the war."

"There is nothing that would give us greater pleasure," the Elder says, his desperation evident in the tone of his voice.

"Good," the emissary replies. "There. We have common ground. We want the same thing. Plus, I've already shown my willingness to not touch any of your sacred objects. I wonder, do you perhaps have a non-sacred chair that I could use? I've been walking for quite some time and, well, to tell the truth, I'm rather tired." He stares at me for a moment. "Of the seven worlds, my masters come from the one made of fire. They have traveled here at great expense to their minds and their bodies and, I might venture, their sanity. They do not like this place, and this wish to leave as soon as possible. As soon as they have what they want."
"And what might that be?" I ask, tiring of his games.

"The book," he says. "You know which book."

"I'm afraid you'll have to enlighten us a little," the Elder replies. "There are so many books here, we -"

"The first book," the emissary spits back at him, suddenly seeming a little annoyed. "The very first book ever written in this land or any other. I know it exists, and I know it is somewhere in the Library. My masters wish to possess that book, but if they cannot, they will happily destroy the entire land. Let me be blunt, gentlemen. If they cannot get hold of the first book, they will destroy every book in existence, just so they can be sure that it is gone."

"The first book is -" the Elder starts to say.

"I know, it's on one of the shelves somewhere. But where? And what is the title? These are the things we need to know. Tell us, and we can bring this war to an end, and you can keep your fancy Citadel and its crumbling walls."

"Why is this book of such great importance to you?" the Elder asks.

"There is a legend among my masters," the emissary replies. "The first book holds great power, and whoever has possession of that book, will control the domain of the Forbidders. That is the only reason they have come to your land. Otherwise, the Forbidders pose no threat to any world other than their own. All they want is the book, and then they can go back to our own land and leave the Library forever. I'm afraid your world has become caught up in a rather messy internal power struggle between two different sets of Forbidders. They do not value your world for any other reason. Give us the book, and we'll be gone by sunset. Then you can get on with the job of rebuilding your precious shelves, and everyone will be happy. Doesn't that sound like a good deal?"

"Let me get one thing clear," I say. "All this death and carnage. All this destruction. All this pain and misery. It's all because of one particular book?"

The emissary nods. "I know what you're probably thinking," he says. "You're probably thinking it's all a bit peculiar." He leans closer. "My masters tend to get fixated on things. They want the book, so they'll do anything to get hold of it. They'll destroy this entire land if necessary, and then they'll move onto the next, and the next, and the next until there's nothing left to destroy. The thing is... They thought they could detect the book's presence, and then when they got closer to the Citadel, they lost track of the damn thing."

"And they would destroy the Library rather than allow the book to remain out of their hands?" I ask.

"They would destroy every world in existence," he replies. "Perhaps even the dead world, if they can get to it. Believe me, once they have exhausted the Library, they will keep searching. This book is of huge importance to them. They can use it to settle a blood feud that has raged in their world for centuries. Whichever of their number gains control of this particular book will rule their land for the rest of time. You might think they're insane to believe such a thing. You might think they are wrong. But this is what they believe, and there is no way you can dissuade them of the idea."

"Then we must give them the book," the Elder says, turning to me. "It's simple. We find the book and we give it to them. One book. That's nothing! We have billions of books, we can easily spare this title if it ends the war."

"Where is this book?" I ask.

The Elder opens his mouth to reply, but then he falls silent for a moment. "I do not know," he says eventually, "but we must find it. The Librarian would have known, but clearly he chose to run instead. Still, there must be records. There must be something that can tell us." He looks back over at the emissary. "I can assure you that we will find this book and deliver it to your masters. And if we do that, they will leave our world?"

"Forever," the emissary says with a smile. "Once the book is ours, you will never hear of my masters again. They will withdraw to their own world and leave you in peace. But if you do not deliver the book, they will burn all seven worlds rather than give up. The choice is yours, but I would strongly suggest that you choose the option that doesn't lead to your imminent extinction."