The Destruction of the Books (35 page)

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At the bottom, the stairwell let out into a hallway with six doors. All of the doors were tall and broad and arched. Lanterns glowed on the walls, providing just enough light to make out the surroundings.

“Can’t see a blasted thing in here,” Craugh grumped as he thrust his lighted staff around in all directions.

Only then did Juhg remember that the wizard possessed human eyes that couldn’t see well in the low light. “What are you looking for?” Juhg asked.

“I know what I’m looking for, apprentice,” Craugh snapped. “I just can’t find my way there.” He stamped the staff against the floor and the magical light glowed more brightly. “Ah, that’s much better.”

“Which way—” the Grandmagister started to ask.

“This way.” Craugh plowed ahead, obviously drawn by something neither the Grandmagister nor Juhg could see.

Juhg followed, wondering why none of the Dread Riders or the Grymmlings had risen up from the darkness to confront them, then just as quickly thanking the fates that those creatures hadn’t.

“As I said,” Craugh spoke as they raced onward, “this is a very old spell. It has taken root inside the Library, as its dark-hearted weaver intended. To remove it, we must destroy the root.”

“Will you be able to separate the spell from the Library?” the Grandmagister asked.

Craugh shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“If you can’t, what will become of the Library?”

Craugh didn’t answer.

“Craugh,” the Grandmagister called.

The old wizard shook his head. “I don’t know, Wick. Truly, I do not. The magic that built this place, all the glamours that have been laid since the Foundation Stone was first put into place those hundreds of years ago, all of it is old. As magic ages, it frays, holding still if it was a strongly laid spell, but becoming a little unraveled.”

“‘And in fraying,’” Juhg said, “‘the magic ties into the everyday world to maintain itself, drawing on the true essence that lies within a person, a place, or a thing, till the unnatural becomes part of the natural. In doing that, the magic becomes more a part of everything around it till the glamour and the thing or person or place it was laid upon become inseparable.’”

Craugh looked at Juhg with raised eyebrows. “Very good, apprentice. Very well put indeed.”

Juhg felt embarrassed. He’d spoken out of turn. “I didn’t just know that. That’s a quote from—”

“Legorn’s
The Existence of Magic Within the Natural World, or Why Ghosts Exist,
” Craugh said. “I am well aware of the book. I’m just surprised that you would read such a thing, apprentice, or have a command of its understanding.”

“My only familiarity came at the Grandmagister’s urging,” Juhg said.

“Still, that you would remember much of it. Legorn’s book was written in Esketaryn, an elven language forgotten even before Lord Kharrion rose up to claim the goblinkin tribes. Not many can read that book. Not even many wizards. Or Librarians, for that matter, I suspect.”

“There are translations,” Juhg said before he thought about it.

“I didn’t know translations existed,” Craugh said.

“Juhg did them,” Grandmagister Lamplighter said. “In three different languages.”

“Translated a magic book?” Craugh looked doubtful.

“A book
about
magic,” Juhg pointed out, knowing there was a
big
difference between a magic book and a book about magic.

“One of many such volumes,” the Grandmagister declared with a measure of pride. “As I have told you on any number of occasions, Juhg is a very talented Librarian.”

“Yet he chose to leave the Vault,” Craugh reminded. He shook his head. “His heart is not into this place as much as is yours, Wick. No one has ever loved this place as much as you.”

“But—”

“No one,” Craugh said. “I’ve known several Grandmagisters during my time in this world. During my visits. I know what I’m talking about.”

Surprise spun through Juhg. No one knew how old Craugh was, but everyone knew that a wizard’s years weren’t measured as a man’s were.

“And you can’t fault him, Wick. Juhg is no different than any other Librarian you’ve taught or guided or mentored. He’s just more knowledgeable than most.”

The Grandmagister said nothing, but Juhg saw that Grandmagister Lamplighter’s eyes reflected his sadness over that truth. The fact that such an emotion could even register in light of everything that had happened in this past hour was amazing and showed how deeply the Grandmagister had cared about Juhg’s decision to leave.

Juhg suddenly felt certain he would rather be upstairs alongside the dwarves fighting Dread Riders and Grymmlings while carrying his weight in books than to be in the lowest recesses of the Library with the cantankerous old wizard and the Grandmagister. Juhg did not want to feel guilty about the choice he had made. Living in the Library and serving the secrets it held was the Grandmagister’s dream, not his.

Craugh continued leading the way. Juhg glanced at the doors to the rooms he had visited on occasion while serving as First Level Librarian. Now that he looked at those doors, remembering the shelves and shelves of books in each of the rooms, he wished that he’d had more time to find out what was among the stacks.

Perhaps,
he told himself with a little hope,
those days and those opportunities are yet to be. Not all of the Library can possibly be destroyed.

Only a little farther on, Juhg saw what it was that Craugh had traveled to the bottom of the Library to find. In the fourth large chamber they came to, a pulsating web of deep purple magical power permeated the entire room, contracting and expanding in a seemingly endless flow across the ceiling, walls, and floor.

16

Web of Spells

Juhg stayed behind Craugh, fearing that the darkness ahead was filled with Dread Riders and Grymmlings. Instead, nothing moved but the shadows as the web of magic shifted and flickered, pulsing like a heartbeat. The throb of the magical spell sounded like a heartbeat as well, but one that thundered rapidly. Echoes rolled around Juhg.

“What is it?” Grandmagister Lamplighter asked.

“The root of the magic.” Craugh pointed his staff at the pulsing web. Purple sparks shot from the shifting design to bite and flash at the magical light atop the wizard’s staff. “This is the force that holds open the doors all through the levels above us.”

Another spark spat from the web, jumping like an arrow in flight straight at the wizard.

Craugh blocked the spark with his staff. The spark broke into a thousand gleaming pieces and disappeared. “If I can destroy this, all the magical doors to the upper floors will close.”

“What about the creatures that have made it through the doors?” the Grandmagister asked.

“Some might yet remain. That fact depends on how possessive the spell is. If I destroy the spell and the magic behind it is possessive, the spell may very well draw those creatures back to the world they came from. I will try to encourage that.” Craugh settled his pointed hat more firmly atop his head and stepped into the room. “Those that remain we will have to track down and kill. But I don’t know yet how many more can be sent through the doors.”

“Why aren’t any of the creatures here?” Juhg whispered, hoping he didn’t jinx them by mentioning the lack of enemies bent to spill their blood.

“No door was made here.” Craugh pointed at the web of power. “This is the root. The spell took hold of the Library here, leeched into the magic protecting this place, and bent those old magics to its use as well. The root could not allow itself to be disturbed by doors or anything else that might disrupt its pattern.” The wizard faced the spell grimly. “That is the spell’s strength and it is its weakness.” He stepped closer. “And I must find a way to disrupt it.”

Winds suddenly whipped up in the chamber, biting cold breezes that ripped at Craugh’s robe and beard until he spoke harsh, guttural words. Then the wind seemed to blow right through him because it never touched him again.

But the wind touched Juhg, bringing a near-freezing intensity that chafed his exposed skin and turned his fingers into brittle sticks. He’d never seen anything freeze so quickly. He squinted his eyes against the gale, blinked near-frozen tears down his cheeks, and watched Craugh approach the magical web stuck tight to the sides of the chamber.

Craugh shouted words of power. The wind changed and became filled with the blazing heat of the desert. Juhg sweltered, opening his robe and breathing harshly to try to pull more air into his lungs.

A ball of whirling green light formed in Craugh’s free hand. He raised the ball to look at it, as if weighing it or checking its shape, like he was picking out a melon in the marketplace. Then he hurled the ball against the web.

An explosion rocked the Library, even in the bedrock of the Knucklebones Mountains.

Juhg felt the floor shift beneath him, looking on in stunned amazement as cracks shot across the floor and huge sections of stone lifted and bashed against each other like ice floes colliding. The crunching impacts filled the chamber with noise. Juhg fell and pushed himself up again, only to struggle to keep himself from falling back as the section of floor he stood on reared into the air and almost turned perpendicular to the position it had previously enjoyed.

Glancing to his right, Juhg saw that the Grandmagister was experiencing similar problems keeping his footing. The chunk he stood on suddenly upended and tossed him into the air. Out of control, he fell toward a crack in the floor that was already starting to push back together. If he got caught in that, Juhg knew the Grandmagister would be crushed. The purple and green lights from the conflicting magics showed the fear on his face.

Without thinking, Juhg threw himself at the Grandmagister. Despite his modesty and self-confirmed lack of bravery, the Grandmagister had saved Juhg’s life on a number of occasions, often putting his young protégé’s survival ahead of his own. Juhg could not sit by and watch the Grandmagister fall to his doom.

Throwing out his arms, Juhg slammed against the Grandmagister and carried them both clear of the gaping crack just as it closed again with a deafening
crunch
. They rolled and came up against the wall to the right of the door.

The Grandmagister said something, but Juhg could not hear him over the horrendous roar of the shattering rock. Out of breath from the collision, his heart beating frantically at how he had just risked his life, Juhg stood on shaking knees.

The floor beneath Craugh shattered so hard that plumes of stone dust spat up like a whale pod breaching and blowing. A section of stone only an arm’s breadth across twisted like a bucking horse. The wizard nearly toppled from the stone.

Pointing to the stone with his free hand, Craugh snarled more harsh and guttural words. The stone section took on a silvery sheen, then rose up from the floor and leveled off, despite all the turmoil that took place in the space it had vacated.

Power filled the room. Juhg felt the arcane force. The hair on his arms and his head and the back of his neck stood up in response.

Craugh threw both hands forward, chanting the whole time. The wind picked up intensity, whirling and whistling around the great room. For a moment, the purple web swayed, then it pushed back. The waves of invisible power slammed into Craugh and nearly took him from his feet.

Still, the wizard remained unbowed and unbroken. He grinned into the fury of the forces warring against him. He threw his hands forward again, and this time Juhg saw the green power lash out against the purple web. Whole sections of stone broke where the lines of the web touched the walls, floor, and ceiling, spreading cracks across those surfaces. The entire room shook and clouds of stone dust poured down.

Juhg knelt, hiding from the wind as best as he could. The wind picked up small pebbles and stone shards and hurled them like missiles. A few of them struck Juhg with ringing pain and slashed at his face and hands. He wrapped his left arm over his lower face and breathed through the material of his robe to filter out the dust. His eyes teared from the dust and the grit. He barely managed to stand on the heaving surface of the floor. Grim certainty that the Library was about to come plunging down onto them dug into him with fishhooks.

Then the green fury Craugh unleashed tore chunks and strings from the web of purple power. The strands ripped away, stretching and popping and curling in on themselves until they disappeared. In the space of a drawn breath, only the fractures across the floor, the walls, and the ceiling remained to mark the web’s existence. A few faint tremors shook the Library—and perhaps the Knucklebones Mountains themselves—then they faded away.

The Grandmagister dusted himself off. His face bled in a dozen different places and one eye was swollen nearly shut.

“Craugh,” the Grandmagister called.

His voice sounded strange in Juhg’s ears, now that the roaring wind was absent.

Stepping gingerly from the floating chunk of rock, which dropped with a crash to the broken floor as soon as the wizard’s foot left it, Craugh stared up at the ceiling. He held his staff tightly and caused the light at the end of it to blaze to life again.

“Craugh,” the Grandmagister called again.

“What?” The wizard’s voice held irritation.

“Is it done, then?” the Grandmagister asked.

“The spell is banished.” Craugh walked around hesitantly, his eyes never leaving the center of the ceiling where the cracks stemmed. “But whether that is the end of it…” He shook his head. “The spell was a true one, Wick. Woven strong. It dug deeply into the magic that was placed into the Library. I don’t know what the removal of the spell has done to the Library.”

“But how would anyone know how to tie that spell in with the magic that is part of the Library?” Juhg asked. Despite his dazed state, his ever-inquisitive mind sought answers. “The magic that helped create the Library is so old that not many remember how to work it.”

Craugh glanced away from his survey of the ceiling and smiled grimly at the Grandmagister. “Well, Wick, people will certainly be asking that question over the next few days.”