Chapter 30
The Prague Library loomed out of the fog like a slumbering giant, its Gothic spires and baroque flourishes rendered silver by the moonlight. Evander studied the building from the shadows of a nearby alley, his pulse steady despite the tension coiling in his gut.
“Was it wise to leave Ginny and Solomon at the hotel, your Grace?” Shaw whispered beside him.
“Yes. They’ll provide extraction if things go wrong.”
Evander’s shoulders knotted when the pale trails ahead shifted.
Fairbridge and Rufus materialised from the mist.
“The main entrance is guarded,” Fairbridge murmured. “Two men. Armed.”
“There’s a side door near the eastern wing,” Rufus added quietly. “Servant’s entrance, by the look of it. It’s less visible from the street. There’s only one guard there.”
Evander nodded. “That’s our way in.”
Viggo’s imposing figure loomed out of the gloom a moment later.
“Area’s clear,” the Brute reported. “I couldn’t see anyone suspicious lurking around.”
Evander had already confirmed the lack of dark mages in the area with his magic.
They waited until the city’s church bells chimed midnight before making their move, slipping through the fog like ghosts. Fairbridge used his Enchanter magic to make the guard at the side entrance quietly leave his post and wander out into the night.
The door was locked. Viggo made short work of the mechanism with a lock-pick. Cracking it with ice magic wasn’t an option: they needed to leave no trace of their visit.
They entered the building and found themselves inside a narrow corridor that smelled of dust and old paper.
“Stay close,” Evander breathed. “And stay quiet.”
From what Pavel had told them before he’d left their hotel, the interior of the building was regularly patrolled by guards. The nightshift schedule changed daily, making it impossible to predict the times they would make their rounds.
They slowed when they entered the main library, Viggo’s breath catching.
The interior was vast, its vaulted ceilings disappearing into shadow and its walls lined with countless shelves groaning under the weight of centuries of accumulated wisdom.
Moonlight streamed through tall windows, casting pale rectangles across the marble floors.
Evander detected a faint taint of old magic beneath the expected scent of aged parchment and leather bindings, the residue of powerful enchantments laid down long ago. He cast out a pulse of elemental energy and was relieved when it failed to detect dark magic around them.
Viggo shot a longing glance at the books around them as they traversed the central area and headed for the back. They found the door to the basement at the end of a corridor that twisted back on itself twice.
Evander extracted the folding cane strapped to his forearm and engaged the light crystal atop it. It illuminated their path as they headed down into the dark, the pale glow casting their elongated shadows on bare stone walls.
The basement stretched out beneath the entire length and width of the main library, a warren of giant cellars and storage rooms.
“This place feels like a tomb,” Viggo muttered.
“That’s because it probably was one, once,” Fairbridge observed. “The Holy Roman Emperors had a habit of repurposing sacred spaces.”
Evander withdrew Pavel’s map from his coat and unrolled the blank parchment.
“Time to see if this really works,” he murmured.
Heat blossomed in his chest and flowed down his arm into his fingertips as he summoned his fire magic. Sparks erupted into life around his hand. Lines began to appear where they touched the map.
“That’s beautiful,” Shaw whispered, her eyes wide with wonder.
A thrill shot through Evander as corridors and staircases appeared on the paper, all rendered in luminous ink that pulsed like a living thing. The map revealed their current position as a small flame-shaped marker.
Deep beneath the library’s foundations, a chamber marked with a single word in archaic Latin appeared: Secretum.
“Two floors down,” Fairbridge said quietly.
They spent the next few minutes navigating the labyrinthine corridors with the map as their guide. It finally led them to a stone wall.
Viggo frowned. “It’s a dead end.”
Evander looked around, equally puzzled.
A noise behind them had them twisting on their heels. Faint voices echoed in the distance.
“The guards,” Fairbridge warned. “They must be doing their rounds.”
Evander’s heart raced as he stared from the map to the wall before them. The parchment clearly showed they were in the right place.
“Maybe there’s a hidden mechanism,” Rufus suggested tensely.
They began searching for one, their fingers moving hastily over the cool stone.
“Your Grace!” Shaw hissed a moment later.
A distant glow appeared behind them. It grew steadily, along with low chatter.
The guards were literally around the corner.
Frustration tightened Evander’s jaw as he scowled at the map. Shaw joined him, her face a tense mask as she examined the parchment.
“Why don’t you try fire again?” she suggested. She indicated the wall with a jerk of her head.
Evander’s breath locked in his throat as he met her gleaming gaze.
She’s right!
“Stand back,” Evander whispered urgently.
He waited until they were clear, summoned a flame, and applied it to the wall. Symbols sparked into life, forming a tapestry of runes that drew a gasp from Rufus and had Viggo and Fairbridge’s eyes widening.
Shaw fist-pumped the air with a satisfied grin.
Evander watched, transfixed.
The wall unravelled silently, stone shifting one by one until a doorway appeared.
Viggo’s voice jolted them into motion.
“Let’s go!” the Brute urged.
They darted through the opening. It closed behind them with nary a whisper just as the guards turned the corner.
“Did they see us?!” Rufus hissed.
“I don’t think so,” Fairbridge muttered.
They waited breathlessly, ears straining for the sounds of shouts and an alarm being raised.
None reached them.
Evander swallowed and turned to examine the space they found themselves in. Enchanted sconces lined a short passage. They throbbed with a golden glow that lit a staircase spiralling into darkness.
They made their way cautiously down it, Evander in the lead.
Shelves appeared, books lining an ancient library built into the very bones of the circular pit they descended. Wonder filled Evander when he recognised archaic titles thought to be long lost. Viggo appeared similarly enraptured by the vast tomb of knowledge around them.
They reached the bottom, passed through reading rooms filled with more dusty tomes, and filed down another staircase, this one narrower than the last. They negotiated more silent chambers before finally finding themselves in front of a massive tapestry depicting the founding of Charles University.
Evander’s heart slammed against his ribs as he checked the map. The secret chamber was in front of them. He carefully pushed the heavy fabric aside.
Behind it was a door made of ancient oak, its surface carved with protective runes that glowed faintly in the darkness.
An expectant hush befell them as he inserted the key in the lock and channelled his fire magic once more.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the runes across the surface of the door flared bright gold, the light so dazzling it made them squint.
There was a soft click.
The door swung open with a groan of protesting hinges.
Evander’s breath locked in his throat.
Beyond lay a staircase descending into gloom.
The shadows receded with a suddenness that made Shaw jump and Rufus curse. Evander’s eyes widened as enchanted orbs flared brightly into life where they hung from a ceiling.
The secret archive of the Prague Library stretched below them, at the bottom of the steps.
It was smaller than Evander had expected—a circular chamber some thirty feet across, with shelves carved directly into the stone walls and two tables with chairs.
But what it lacked in size, it made up for in density.
Every available surface was crammed with books, scrolls, and loose papers, some so old they looked like they might crumble at a touch.
They headed down the steps.
“Spread out,” Evander ordered. “Look for anything related to Les Prophètes Illuminés or the Crimson Codex. And be careful. We don’t want to damage any of these texts.”
They worked in tense silence, each taking a section of the circular room.
Shaw handed out cotton gloves to everyone and began examining the older documents.
Rufus focused on the more recent additions, papers that looked to be no more than a century old.
Fairbridge moved along the far wall, his eyes scanning titles with remarkable speed.
Viggo took the opposite side, his large hands carefully lifting out precious tomes.
Evander crossed the floor to the two desks. He found nothing of relevance to their search and had just turned away to examine another section of the hidden library when a trace of magic danced across his senses. He paused and twisted on his heels.
There was something there. Something almost intangible.
Evander frowned and crouched to examine the closest table.
His fingers grazed a knot in the wood beneath the surface.
“Evander?” Viggo said in a puzzled voice from across the room.
“There’s something here,” Evander murmured.
He startled when he registered a vestige of fire magic from the irregular structure.
Could it be—?!
Heat rushed down his arm and through his hand, sending magic sparks into the knot. It gave under his fingers.
The flagstone underneath the table groaned. Evander moved back hastily as a small section of the floor receded, revealing a shallow cavity. Within the hidden compartment was a small book bound in faded red leather.
Evander’s mouth went dry.
Everyone gathered around him as he carefully picked it up and rose to his feet. The pages were yellow but intact. His heart stuttered when he read the title, stamped in gold leaf that had long since tarnished.
De Origine et Historia Codicis Carmesini.
“On the Origin and History of the Crimson Codex,” Evander mumbled.
He opened the book.
The text was in Latin, dense and archaic. Evander’s classical education served him well as he scanned the pages, his pulse quickening with each passage.
Fairbridge drew a sharp breath where he read over his shoulder.
“It’s a chronicle,” he murmured. “Written by someone who claimed to have seen the Codex themselves. They describe it as—” He squinted at a particularly cramped passage.
“A repository of forbidden knowledge,” Evander continued numbly.
“Rituals for transferring magical essence between beings. Methods for amplifying power beyond natural limits.” He looked at Viggo, his knuckles whitening where he held the book.
“This is exactly what Musgrave and his associates were trying to recreate.”
A muscle jumped in the Brute’s jawline.
Evander turned the page, dread sending ice skittering down his spine. “There’s more. It says the Codex was created by someone called—” He froze.
“—the Primus Archimagus,” Fairbridge finished.
They exchanged a stunned look.
“The First Archmage,” they murmured as one.
“So they were right?” Shaw said hoarsely. “The Codex was written by the first Archmage?!”
Rufus frowned. “That would make the Codex—“
“Ancient,” Evander finished heavily. “Older than any magical text we know of.” He leafed through to the back of the book. It ended without revealing the Codex’s actual location. Frustration churned his stomach as he glanced around the secret archives chamber. “There has to be more.”
Fairbridge discovered the next clue. It was a single sheet of paper that had slipped underneath a bookcase containing more recent documents.
“You’ll want to see this,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically tight.
Evander crossed to him and took the paper. It was a letter, dated less than five years ago, written in German. The handwriting was cramped but legible. He frowned as he deciphered the words.
“It’s correspondence between researchers.”
“It looks like they were trying to locate the Codex,” Fairbridge confirmed grimly. “And they mention a name. Someone they believed had more information than anyone else in Europe.”
He indicated a passage farther down the letter.
It referenced a man by the name of Benedict Simek, an occult researcher living in Prague.