A Call to Arms: Book One of the Chronicles of Arden (12 page)

Gib’s jaw dropped at the sight of the library. It was much larger than he’d envisioned—as spacious as at least two of the classroom halls joined together—and row upon row of shelves, twice as tall as Gib, were brimming with books.

“I never imagined it would be so big.”

“This is nothing compared to the library in the palace,” Joel remarked as he slipped into the room behind Gib and closed the door. “The Royal Archives are at least ten times this size.”

“How can there even be so many books in existence to fill a space larger than this?”

“Mmm, many of the books at the palace are political or historical in content while the ones here tend to be educational. But there is also the restricted section at the palace.”

Gib raised a curious eyebrow. “What’s in the restricted section?”

“Oh, you know, anything that may be controversial or considered too dangerous for the common folk to get their hands on.” The mage trainee led Gib toward an empty table as he spoke in a delighted tone. “When I’ve finished my schooling and apprenticeship, I’ll be allowed access to the ancient magery tomes kept there. I’ve been dreaming of reading such texts since childhood.”

“I have no idea what any of that means,” Gib replied. “But I’ll take your word for it.”

Joel chuckled and then pointed at the chair. “I’ll save my breath and your time. Trying to explain magic to the ungifted is like trying to row a boat upstream directly following a springtime thaw—futile and tiring. Sit here. I’m going to go find some reading material for you.”

The mage trainee darted away and Gib was left alone to take in his surroundings. The room was dimly lit by lanterns strung along the marbled walls—lanterns blazing with an odd-colored fire. No, not fire, Gib realized as he examined the strange source of illumination. Fire wouldn’t have been so well contained. These orbs were perfectly circular in shape and glowed an eerie shade of sapphire. It had to be some sort of magic.

Though no hearth or fireplace was visible, the entire room was bathed in drowsy heat. Gib wrinkled his nose as he tried to find the source of the warmth, but the longer he searched, the more convinced the sentinel trainee became that the temperature of the room was also being manipulated by magery. He would have to ask Joel—

“Here are a couple books to get you started.” His roommate returned at that moment, carrying no less than half a dozen books in his arms.

Gib’s eyes widened. “You want me to read them
all
?”

Joel grinned as he took a seat and spread the gathered books onto the tabletop. “Well, not all at once. Pick one.”

Gib studied each of the books in turn. The bindings were all worn and fraying, and a few of them were so faded by age it was hard to read the titles. He squinted his eyes.

“May I make a suggestion as to which you read first?”

Gib nodded so Joel reached out and pushed one of the books toward the younger boy. It stood out from the rest immediately. The cover was dyed in shades of deep reds, sunlit yellows, and shades of blue that reminded Gib of the sky. Whimsical drawings were etched into the front panel, creatures he didn’t recognize and surely were not anything of this world. His eyes scanned the title that was crafted in shimmering gold lettering.
Tales of Fae
.

“Is this a children’s book?” Gib asked as he ran his fingers along the stonewashed binding.

“It’s a collection of fables about the Old World,” the mage trainee replied. “Legends and myths about the shaping of the world and how the human race came to be. My mother used to read it to me when I was still very young. It was one of the books I was given when I first learned how to read, so you should be able to pick through it with little trouble.” Joel motioned for Gib to open the book. “Go on. Give it a try.”

Gib felt ridiculous being asked to read a book meant for a youngling, but Joel’s smile was soft and reassuring, so Gib made the decision to give it his best attempt. Anything to please his roommate. Carefully opening the cover, Gib focused his eyes on the first page.

In the beginning, there was only darkness. The Gods lived in the Void of Nothing for ten thousand millennia. They lived without purpose, without identity, without thought. And then two of these deities all at once did think, and they thought to leave. The Goddess Daya and her sister Chhaya separated themselves from the Void and forged a realm. It was a world without rain, without sun, without any kind of natural law. But it was something other than darkness.

As time passed, Daya and Chhaya filled their new world with things. Great mountains made of crystal, seas of black velvet stretched into infinity, and air with no wind but crackling with storms. For a while, only the Two inhabited this world, but after many centuries, Daya and Chhaya began to miss the siblings they had abandoned within the Void, so they thought to create a sentient race to inhabit their realm.

The Two forged a beautiful creature in their own image, sculpted by magic and set down into the world. He was their son and they loved him. For a time, the child of the Two was content to explore his new realm, but soon he began to long for companionship. And so Daya and Chhaya created siblings for their firstborn, one thousand brethren total, all beautiful and as unchanging as the world around them. They were immortal, borne of magic, perfect.

For many ages, the Children of The Two existed in harmony, but they had not the control or wisdom of the Gods and so they began to fight among themselves, allowing emotions such as greed and jealousy to govern their lives. Daya and Chhaya saw their children at war and it displeased them, and so the Two sought out their most precious son, their firstborn, and asked him to go out into the realm and bring peace. The son did as he was commanded, but it was to no avail. His siblings would not listen to him.

Daya and Chhaya became angered at their children’s defiance. They thought to undo the entire race, to send them back to nothingness, but their firstborn son begged for the lives of his siblings, and The Two loved him so much they agreed to be merciful.

Daya and Chhaya saw the error of their way. The magic of the world had made their children powerful and arrogant. And so The Two set out to create a second realm, vowing not to repeat the same mistakes. They gave this new world water, wind, earth, and fire. Daya gave the world a sun while Chhaya painted stars across the sky. Together, they crafted trees, mountains, grass, rivers, and oceans. And then they gave life to it all, but no magic. This world was to be governed by the laws of nature.

The Two began to populate the world with creatures. Magnificent lizards with leathered wings, hoofed animals with horns of ivory, enormous birds of prey that circled on high, and thousands of others. But Daya and Chhaya were still saddened by the betrayal of their children in the Otherealm, so they made new children in their image to fill the young world. The human race was born. To be certain that humanity would not befall the same fate as the Children in the Otherealm, Daya and Chhaya infused the new world with consequence. They gave the humans something to fear and respect. Death. For this world was bound by the rules of mortality.

The Children in the Otherealm were filled with jealousy when they heard of this newly created world. Many of them felt betrayed, abandoned by their Mothers. Some begged the Two Goddesses for forgiveness while others simply wanted to defy them further.

It was not long before the Children of The Two discovered a way to escape their birthplace. Defiant and curious by nature, they traversed the plane which divided the immortal and mortal realms and infiltrated the new world, bringing the magic of the Otherealm with them.

The Two Goddesses attempted to contain the magic, but it was rogue and chaotic and not easy to control. It spread like wildfire through the new world, and the races within became entranced by the powers it offered them. Seeing the mortal races manipulating the magic, many of The Children of the Two became infuriated, for they were of the opinion that such magic was meant only for them.

Of all the mortal races, the humans seemed to benefit the most by the newfound magic. They learned they could perform extraordinary tasks—create fire from nothingness, heal a wounded comrade, even see into the future. The Children of the Two saw these humans, so young and bold, and some grew jealous. They sought to destroy the humans; the race they feared was the favorite of their Mothers.

War broke out between the races. It ravaged the mortal realm. The fighting went on for so long and with such ferocity it was thought all humans would die. The loss of life was immense and yet neither side would back down.

It was because of this bravery that some of the Children of The Two had a change of heart. They began to side with the humans and other mortal races. When such alliances were discovered, the war came to a peak. Battles, powered by magic and bloodlust, scarred the surface of the mortal realm and great cracks were torn into the world’s crust. In these places, to this day, magic still bleeds through from the Otherealm, traces of the cataclysmic events of ages lost.

Gib raised his chestnut eyes toward his friend. “Do you think any of this is true?”

Joel shrugged. “I doubt we, as humans, will ever know all the answers. There is so much in this world which can’t be explained.” His eyes twinkled as he set his hands onto the open page. “But there is beauty in the unknown, is there not?”

Gib found himself staring at Joel’s delicate hands. “I’m not sure I like not knowing what the future holds for me.”

“Well,” replied the mage trainee in a soft voice. “Whatever it is, I’m certain that you’re destined for greatness, Gibben Nemesio.”

Gib couldn’t look the other boy in the eye.
 

Since the room had no windows, it was difficult to judge how long the two boys stayed in the library. The evening meal had to be close because by the time Joel announced they should leave, Gib’s stomach was rumbling obnoxiously.

Joel started to collect the books scattered across the table, and Gib was quick to follow the mage trainee’s example. “I’ll help you put these away.”

A trace of a smile came to Joel’s lips as he stacked the books neatly in his arms. “All right. Follow me. I’ll show you where they go so that if you ever come to the library alone, you’ll know where to find them.”

Gib nodded. He planned to come back as time permitted. He’d made admirable progress through
Tales of Fae
, despite being a poor reader. Joel had been there to help, offering to pronounce a word when Gib was unable to sound it out himself, but overall, he’d been able to muddle through the text without assistance. He would need several sessions at the library to finish the book, but Gib already felt an increase in his confidence. He, the uneducated farm boy, was actually reading. Who knew what else he could do if he set his mind to it.

“Will the library be open during Midwinter?” Gib asked.

“I believe so. Most of the local students go home for the celebration, but there are those who live too far away to make the journey—” The mage trainee’s voice cut out without warning.

Gib glanced up and frowned when he saw that Joel had gone rigid in his place. “What’s wrong?”

Another boy about their age stood in their path. His arms were loaded with books as well and his green eyes were wide and fixed on Joel like he’d seen a ghost. Gib couldn’t be sure if the stranger had paled upon seeing them or if he was naturally so fair.

Joel’s mouth moved but not a sound came forth. He took a sharp breath and turned his face away from this newcomer. “Uh—” Gib had never seen Joel so out of sorts. “I–I’m sorry,” Joel finally managed to gasp.

Gib didn’t know who the apology was directed at.

The other boy leapt back as if he’d been burned. Flattening himself against one side of the bookshelves, he allowed them to pass. Gib frowned. He and Joel weren’t lepers. He didn’t understand why the boy seemed so determined not to touch them. The boy’s somewhat homely face was pinched, and he muttered some sort of undecipherable apology.

“Th–thank you,” came Joel’s stuttered response.

The mage trainee quickly sped past and Gib had to run to keep up—when Joel stopped suddenly they almost collided.

Gib made a noise somewhere deep in his throat. “
Chhaya’s bane
, Joel. What is going on?”

Joel turned to look back at the boy they’d just passed, eyes brimming with cold resignation. He put a hand on Gib’s shoulder. “I’m sorry if this becomes awkward. I just—I have to.” The mage trainee didn’t elaborate any further as he went back to the strange, cowering boy who had by now turned his back on them.