Chapter 1 The Book #2
Her knowledge cannot afford us a living, of course.
It’s different if you’re on the road, touring the towns and villages and performing, without a family depending on you, without having to stay rooted in the stinking Burrows.
Storytelling became a present she gave to me, a knowledge passed down through generations.
Then, for a while, she was a librarian at the palace, right here, in Siris. That was before my time and before Brogan had his accident. I don’t know why she left that post.
Thankfully, she also knows about herbs and curing ailments, the only way she can earn any coin nowadays, and that’s another boon she has bestowed on me.
Things, as I was saying, were fine while Brogan was in good health and working in construction.
We had enough to live on, until one of his legs stopped working.
A curse, probably cast by rogue, dark fae hiding out in the woods, which landed him in bed.
They are a plague, coming down from the mountains where they hide to snatch cattle and abduct maidens or young men, demanding ransom coin or carrying them off to their caves, never to be seen again.
These aren’t tales Naida tells me; these are stories circulating on the street, and I have no doubt they are true.
And then there’s Eiras, my loving big brother, always away when you need him, and one can’t even be properly mad at him because he’s working his ass off for us.
“Where did you get that satchel?” he asks suddenly, and I open my mouth to tell him it’s none of his business.
But then Brogan speaks for the first time since I arrived home. “Daughter, I hope you didn’t steal that bag.”
Too late to hide my flinch, I flounder, then rally again. “I didn’t steal it. Found it on the ground, as a matter of fact, in the square of the small market.” I frown at him. “Why do you sound so concerned?”
“That symbol,” he says, “that’s embossed in the leather. Did you notice?”
“Sleeping Gods,” Naida breathes, approaching me, a crease between her dark brows. “The symbol of the Library of Areon.”
“What? Are you sure?” I squint at the symbol pressed into the soft leather. “It looks like a circle with… a horned snake inside. And some strange letters. Not books. It can’t be a library symbol.”
“The Areon is not a normal library, as you well know,” she says sternly, standing with her hands on her hips. “I’ve told you about it.”
“Barely,” I mutter. “You’ve hardly ever mentioned it in all your tales, for some reason.”
“It’s just… not something I normally talk to children about.”
“I’m not a child anymore,” I gently remind her.
“You’re right. Yet you’re my daughter, and you’ll always be that ruddy-faced baby girl I found on that cold winter day.” Her eyes shimmer. Her mouth quivers and she rubs her hand over it. “I wanted to protect you. Keep you warm.”
Guilt grips my chest. “Naida…”
“But I have told you some stories about the Areon. I made sure you knew what that place is. About the books it houses.”
“You said one can find magical books in any library or house,” I say, finding my voice has gone soft and quiet, “lying around undetected for long periods of time, lurking for years or centuries, until someone notices.”
It’s not Naida’s fault. I never liked those stories, never wanted to hear them even as they thrilled me. I love books, so finding myself afraid of them isn’t a good feeling.
“Yes. Sometimes, normal books awaken, become alive. Become dangerous. Sometimes it’s in the way they are used, their purpose.
” Her mouth purses, the fine lines around it deepening.
“And sometimes… sometimes it may be what’s inside the story that causes the magic to flare and pushes their characters to escape it. ”
“How? Why?”
“We don’t know. They can’t go far, though.
The monsters escaping the books can’t leave the library.
They are bound to their books, and few ways exist for them to be disconnected and live an independent life in the outside world.
Which is why the library is in such a desolate place, so far from towns and villages.
Keeping the books chained and locked up means the monsters can’t wander far. Distance matters.”
“A good thing you don’t have to visit that library,” Eiras says with a shudder, taking a bite out of the apple he’s been toying with. “Ever.”
I nod absently.
“What’s inside the bag, daughter?” Naida is eyeing the satchel as if she’s expecting it to grow fangs and bite us. “Have you looked?”
“Not yet.” I’m surprised to find my fingers trembling as I fumble with the metal clasp. Then again, returning home to find Eiras and then discovering that this satchel has something to do with that cursed library… “Let me see.”
The clasp gives with a soft click. I lift the flap and glance inside, where a familiar rectangular shape rests. With a soft gasp, I pull it out.
It’s a book, indeed, bound in leather, a darker leather than the satchel’s, well-worn and shiny in places from use. It has embossments of various symbols but doesn’t sport a title.
“Merciful Gods.” Naida makes an abortive move toward it. “Don’t—”
I open it to the first page and there, written in calligraphy, I finally find the title.
‘Book of Olm.’
“No!” Naida screeches, making a grab for it. “Close it, close it right now!”
With the instinct to obey her deeply ingrained in me since I was a baby, I snap the book shut, my heart pounding, and grit my teeth. “Why?”
But Naida is staring at me, her blue eyes wide, her hand still reaching for the book. Not reassuring. “It has to be a magical book. Someone was taking it to that library of monsters and lost it on the way. Are you sure you didn’t see who it was?”
“A woman,” I whisper. “That’s all I saw. I didn’t see her face. She was wearing a hood.”
“Who could it have been?” Naida turns to look at Eiras, who’s still sitting at the table with the apple forgotten in his hand, but her gaze is distant. “Why would she have a satchel with the stamp of the Areon?”
Good question.
Eiras gets up from his chair and approaches us to lean against the wall by my pallet, his brow knitted. “A magical book, huh?”
I shrug.
The silence stretches. It’s quiet in the house, apart from the crackling of the fire. A pigeon coos on the roof.
But then Brogan’s deep voice breaks the spell. “A magical book in our house? Aline has to take it to the Library of Areon. It can’t stay here.”
He’s frowning at us from his bed, propped up on his pillows, muscular arms folded over his chest. His smooth cheeks—since the fae don’t grow beards, which saves them all the shaving—make him look younger than he is, but his blond hair is liberally streaked with white.
Since the fae magic thinned, the fae began to age faster.
A side effect of the change, some have argued.
Never as fast as humans, though.
“Have you lost your mind, husband?” Naida now turns to glare at him. “She’s just a girl. A human girl. It’s a long and dangerous trek there. And even if she made it, what then? Did you think you can just drop a book off and go home?”
“How else?” he asks mildly. “I thought the real danger was the librarians who chase after you if you damage even a corner of a book.”
“You…” Naida fights a smile. She can never stay angry with her husband for too long. “Weren’t you listening? It’s not a normal library.”
“How would I know anything about it? What do I have to do with books or libraries?” he huffs. “And why would a magical librarian be any different from a normal one? It’s the principle that counts, isn’t it?”
Naida snorts.
How did a construction worker who can’t read and has only a passing interest in stories fall in love with a storyteller? One of the great mysteries of the world.
“What’s so terrible about the Areon?” I ask. “I mean, the magical books are chained, as you said. Spells keep them locked up. So what’s the danger to me if I go there?”
“Pay attention. It’s not called the Library of Monsters for nothing,” Eiras says.
I ignore him. “Naida? What’s wrong with dropping the book off and leaving? Why wouldn’t that be all right?”
“Daughter…” She shakes her head. “It’s a library carved in the black mountains, and some say it’s as big as a city.
It’s warded with strong magic to keep the monsters inside and once every generation, a warrior guardian is sent to replace the previous one, to keep the library safe and locked up for a hundred years.
” She sighs. “Nobody knows how book magic really works. It’s different from any other.
Some say certain books are gates, opening into other worlds, while others say they are divine and nobody has the capacity to explain how one can enter them, or how their stories can spill into this reality.
Such books are hunted down and carried to the Library of Areon, close to the world’s rim, and bound for everyone’s protection. ”
“You’ve told me all this already, but… Wait. Inside the library, there are monsters loose? Why doesn’t the library guardian return them to their books? That’s their job, isn’t it?”
“The occasional monster does escape, which is why warrior librarians are necessary.” Her eyes are shadowed. “It’s a dangerous place, honey. Nobody can keep a monster confined indefinitely.”
I frown. “But that’s—”
“You’re right, Naida,” Brogan says, his frown as dark as his wife’s. “Aline won’t be taking the book anywhere. It stays here until we find someone else to carry it to that awful library.”
“Good,” Eiras says. “I agree with Father.”
“Then it’s settled,” Brogan says. “We wait.”
“Fine,” I say. “Let’s wait.”
But we all reckoned without the book.