Faylinn
“. . . n
ow this is a work that I’m certain that you’ll find as captivating as I did. It chronicles the rise and fall of the southern Eshu Empire roughly three centuries after the Sundering. Unfortunately, the scholar who started the account died during the sack of Iluul—apparently, he was killed by a rogue stone that fell from the castle atop his head. Completely burst his noggin. Found the scholar still clutching his works, too. That’s why there’s this dark-brown stain here . . .” Sirak trailed off, gesturing to a rather large brown spot on the ancient paper, so thin it was almost translucent. While I actuallywouldhave found that particular account interesting—especially since the name of the empire sounded rather familiar, though I couldn’t place from where—it wasn’t what I was desperately searching for today.
I tuned Sirak out as he continued on about the blood splatter and the obvious bias the poor, dead scholar had regarding the Eshu Empire and their neighbors in the third century.
Why was there so much blood on that account? Was the scholar holding it up to his face when he died?
I canted my head in thought.
Though, if his skull was smashed by an errant stone, perhaps he thought the papers would shield him from debris?Yes, that must be it.
I discreetly shook myself from my errant thoughts.
“Sirak.” I cleared my throat gently to get the old man’s attention. He had to be close to one hundred, or he at least walked and spoke like it. “Idofind that interesting. But I need the census annals if you have them? It’s a rather important task from Lord d’Refan.”
I tacked that bit of information on at the end, hoping it would spur the man into action. It had the desired effect as Sirak quickly rolled the bloodied scroll, stuffed it under his arm, and pulled me toward a rack in the deepest, darkest recesses of the library. Even light from the massive, stained windows couldn’t reach this far back. A few Mage Orbs dotted the walls, casting an eerie white glow across the racks of books, elongating the shadows into something almost sinister.
“No one ever comes back here, dear. It’s reserved for those books and journals that are necessary but not the most . . . thrilling, shall we say,” Sirak remarked dryly as he pulled me further into the stacks. I gulped almost audibly and clutched Sirak’s arm tighter. Though what the old man would be able to do to protect me, I wasn’t sure.
Maybe Sirak is the one I need to be worried about. . .
My thoughts scrambled into overdrive, thinking how easy it would be to trap and confuse me back here in the dark before overpowering me.
But what would an ancient scholar want with me?
I shook my head as Sirak stopped abruptly, pulling a few scrolls from their place on the shelf. Remarkably, there was no dust to be seen—here or anywhere in the library.
“I’m an Air Mage. My magic keeps the tomes and scrolls here from molding and collecting dust,” he said by way ofexplanation, either reading my thoughts or simply supplying further information about the cavernous library. “Here you are, dear. I also included a more recent account of the Mages and Vessels who have Bonded within the last two decades and their future offspring’s likely emergence. While most of them will be . . . young, we have ways of making them emerge quickly and early.”
I raised my eyebrows slightly, more than perturbed about Sirak’s insinuation, but thanked him for his insight. If the census I held in my hands didn’t include the information that I wanted, hopefully there was a potential future Vessel for Rohak, even though it was clear he couldn’t wait much longer.
Sirak’s statement about forcing Awakenings sat like a lead weight in my stomach, and I shuddered at the idea of pairing Rohak with someone who didn’t consent to be Awakened—I knew Rohak would rather die, consumed by Mage Sickness.
I shakily tucked the scrolls beneath my arm, turning to Sirak once again.
“Is there anything else you need?” he rasped slightly.
“Yes.” I hesitated a moment, deciding how I would explain why I needed the next information. “I could use a few accounts on the history of the Sundering.”
Sirak frowned slightly, but I barreled on with my explanation before he could question me.
“I grew up in a backwater village, removed from learning and information. So everything I know about the Sundering has a religious connotation. I’d like to know if there’s anything from empires at the time? Or other scholars that have maybe a more secular view?” I lied through my teeth.
Thank the gods the King wasn’t here to detect my lies.
Sirak’s expression softened into one of sympathy and understanding.
“Of course, my dear. I know just the books. I can’t imagine growing up without access to information.” He visibly shuddered at the thought and, for a moment, I thought he was having a seizure. When he stopped his abrupt shaking, he motioned for me to return the way we came. “Why don’t you go to a table and I’ll bring a few for you that I think will be rather stimulating?”
I nodded immediately, desperately wanting to leave the darkened stacks and the crawling sensation I’d started feeling in my neck.
“Thank you, Sirak. I appreciate all of your help and guidance.”
The old man smiled, exposing decaying teeth, before sweeping into a low bow again and shuffling further into the stacks. Before he was even out of sight, I turned and practically jogged out of the dark, clutching the scrolls to my chest as my bare feet slapped against the cool stone. It wasn’t until I reached the sunlight that I slowed, my breath sawing in pants, as the feeling of eyes on me slowly dissipated.
I practically ranup the stairs to Rohak’s office, the stolen piece of Elyria’s census rubbing against the skin of my back with every step. My heart thumped erratically, either from the exercise or the crime I just committed, and my breaths came in harsh pants.
