"You expect to get into that?"
Sebastian could only shrug as he stared up at the granite monstrosity of the Ice Fortress that he would somehow have to surpass to enter Halorium. "There must be a door."
From beside him, Abel snorted and pulled her cloak tighter around her slim shoulders. Though it was beyond wondrous that Abel was healthy and at his side once more, Sebastian thought he could have done without her scoffing disbelief. It only added further anxiety to his frayed emotions, so much so that he had tried not to think about the specter healer from the night before all morning. He glanced up at the imposing rock walls once more. Doubt threatened to cloud him completely.
"Every building must have door," he muttered, "even castles and bastions."
"Bastions." Her snort was more amusing now than skeptical. She stretched a hand over her opposite shoulder as if reaching for her bow and arrows she had thankfully left back at the inn. After much persuasion on Sebastian's part, at least. "I think doors are the least of our worries. I'm more concerned about the hundreds of guards currently manning the walls."
"Guards?"
Despite it all, her grin grew rather cheeky. "Are you sure old, mad Norham has the clearance?"
Sebastian shrugged, held a hand over his eyes, and squinted, looking up at the fortress looming over them. Sure enough, a series of dots that could have been people moved systematically along the walls. Every now and then, a bright prism of color reflected off the sun and sprinkled a rainbow across the mountain's gray stone.
It was really quite beautiful.
Though, still a bit frightening, to be honest about such things.
The longer he stared at it, the more Sebastian's palms grew clammy. The fortress walls seemed built into the mountain itself, carved into the rock in such a way that it gave the appearance that Mount Halum had formed around it. Marbled granite comprised the outer walls. Rivers of water that had seeped from the rocks' crevices had frozen into shimmering icicles. When light hit them, it was as if the entire city had been born from ice. The Ice Fortress. An apt name, Sebastian thought.
Ironically, not even a single snowflake could be found anywhere along or atop the fortress walls even though it blanketed the entire walk from Fleetfoot's Inn to where Sebastian stood now. He imagined that a majestic hand had swept it away as if it were mere dust.
Specter.
Sebastian shook his head.
Beyond the walls, a network of caves led into the mountain's depths and would give way, Sebastian knew, into the capital's infamous city center: Halorian Square.
If Halorium truly lived inside mountain rock, then, by all accounts, Halorium should be a rather gloomy, dark city; however, stories claimed it sparkled as if blessed by the God of Light himself, Lumu. The sun graced Rainier's capital unlike anywhere else on the mountain.
If one could believe such stories.
A drum beat echoed off the granite walls before them, another flash of color decorating the mountain.
Sebastian took Norham's letter of introduction from his pocket and glanced over at Abel. In response, she simply pulled back her shoulders and marched up towards the gates and the two heavily armored guards that stood on either side. Their white gear blinded Sebastian against the bright sunlight.
Abel looked between them. "We're expected by Master Lambert of the Halorian Library."
One of the guards peered at Abel before turning her attention to Sebastian. She was impossibly tall and thick. "State your name and purpose for entering these gates."
"Sebastian d'Aximos." He swallowed. "This is my companion, Abel Venande. I'm meant to start an apprenticeship with Master Lambert."
The female guard unfurled a scroll held in her fist. She scanned it for a moment before snapping it back into its original roll. "You are on our list, d'Aximos; however, your companion must remain outside the walls."
Abel touched Sebastian's sleeve. "I'll be fine," she urged before he could back out of it all together. "Go. Read some good books for me." She winked at him and pushed him forwards.
Steeling his nerve, Sebastian stumbled forwards when the other guard motioned for him to follow through the gates. As he passed, he made the mistake of looking up at the thick, metal spikes that were hooked into place over the entrance. If the gates were ever to close on top of a person, it would cleave him or her straight into two. He tried not to think of it, hurrying over the threshold.
Like the walls, the roads were not snow covered here and revealed the paved cobblestones of the paths shooting off into at least ten different directions. It was a pattern that resembled the rays of the sun. The male guard led Sebastian to the circular center of these converging paths before choosing the correct one that Sebastian hoped would take him to the library.
He wondered which one led to the infamous Halorian Square, where the brightest of scholars, inventors, and artists interacted with one another in the brightly decorated markets.
"Halorium is a fortress, connected by a series of cave networks that were mapped into the mountain nearly four hundred centuries ago," the guard explained. He paused at the end of the path he had chosen, gesturing to the gaping hole that supposedly led into the fortress. "There are thirteen different paths to take from the center, different tunnels for each that lead to the various sectors within Halorium."
"This one leads to the library, then?" Sebastian asked.
The guard inclined his head, motioning Sebastian to follow him. "As a guest here, it is important not to wander down an unknown path. The tunnels can act as a maze, and one-too-many curious visitors have been discovered once decompensation has already settled in."
"They died?"
Against all sanity, the guard chuckled. "They were warned the same as you," he said. "Best to keep up."
Well, that hadn't been at all reassuring. Sebastian glanced around the silent tunnel. It smelled surprisingly fresh, like a crisp winter day on the verge of snowfall, not at all musty. A network of connected torchlights were built into the stone ceiling, casting flickering shadows along the walls as they walked.
"What's your name?" Sebastian asked into the silence.
"Corporal Melvin Bonivert." His armored chest rose in pride. "Belonging to the second legion under Captain Matthias Soiree and the twenty-third platoon of Lieutenant Astrid Silver." The guard glanced at him with a small grin. "You can call me Melvin. Ah, here we are."
The guard stopped before an unassuming burgundy door. Carved into the brass knob was a portrait of a quill. The Black Quill? Sebastian's heart leapt as Corporal Melvin knocked four times on the door in a patterned series of raps. When he was done, he looked back at Sebastian.
"The main entrance to the library is magnificent but can only be accessed from Halorian Square. This entrance leads straight into what is known as the Stacks--or, rather, the bedlam of shelves home to scholars such as yourself. Mister Huvert is one of the oldest shelvers in the Halorian Library; he's meant to meet us here."
"Shelvers?"
Melvin nodded. "The assistants to the Master Scholars. They're mostly in charge of keeping the scrolls and tomes in their correct places."
Sebastian jumped when the door swung open. A short man in obsidian robes stood on the opposite side, his face pale and wrinkled. His back stooped when he walked like he'd been sitting at a desk for his entirely way-too-long life. He stared at Sebastian with milky eyes.
Corporal Melvin cleared his throat. "Sebastian d'Aximos for you, sir."
The old shelver curled his fingers for Sebastian to follow. "Master Lambert awaits your arrival. Please follow me and try not to wander. The shelves have a mind of their own and do not appreciate loud noises."
Sebastian only had time to wave goodbye to Melvin before Huvert shut the door in the guard's face. "Damned guards. Wouldn't know a book if it bit them on the nose," Huvert grumbled. "Come along, boy."
Silence permeated the room, the kind of quiet that calmed one's mind. It reminded Sebastian of when he would hide from fishing with his father, nothing but the trees above him, the sea stretched out below him, and parchment at his side. Tables filled this portion of the room, piles of leather-bound books and hand written journals covering them all. No one looked up as he passed by with Huvert. Everyone appeared far too content on studying the endless words laid out before them.
He wondered what each scholar was studying. His guesses were endless.
These were his people.
Huvert picked up an abandoned book on the ground, muttering about sacrilegious librarians, and then led Sebastian out of the small room with tables and into what Sebastian could only guess was the Stacks. Sebastian stared. It was a bright, cavernous room, the ceiling stretching so high that Sebastian wondered if it ever reached a stopping point. Not only that, but there were books everywhere. Scrolls, bounded parchment, heavy tomes—they were all stacked along the unbelievable height of the wooden walls. Sets of spiraling, iron stairs stretched upwards in varied directions. Ladders rested against the small balconies that lined the ample space.
It was hard to believe that this many books existed let alone in one place!
Sebastian couldn't help but wonder about the organization system, and his curiosity had almost gotten the better of him, his lips parting to ask the ancient shelver, when Huvert interrupted him with an abrupt halt.
"Master Lambert," Huvert said, "I have a Sebastian d'Aximos here for you."
Sebastian startled, turning to look at where Huvert had stopped: an entryway made from stacks of books led into a small office. Sure enough, Master Lambert looked up from the scroll in his hands. When he spotted Sebastian, he bounced up from his leather seat.
"Young d'Aximos! How splendid that you survived the tunnels. I'd hate to have found your skeleton amongst the caves!" he proclaimed with a jovial clap of his hands. "Thank you, Huvert. You may leave us."
Still grumbling about something under his breath, Huvert departed. Sebastian entered the office. "Do people really die in those tunnels?"
Master Lambert grinned as if nothing could ever be quite as amusing. "Legend claims it to be true, but those who live long enough usually come to find truth in myths." He gestured to an empty cowhide armchair. "Please sit, Sebastian."
Excitement felt a lot like nervousness. His pulse thrummed as Sebastian took the seat offered to him and busied himself with observing Lambert's office. A small sofa sat pushed against the furthest wall. It was obviously hardly used, if it all, due to the numerous teetering piles of ink pots and scrolls occupying its cushions. On the floor was a patterned, circular red rug, the corner of which was upturned, right underneath a large portrait of a half-naked woman on the back of a dragon. Sebastian flushed and refocused on Lambert only to realize Lambert had been watching him.
Sebastian glanced at his twisting hands. "Sorry, sir."
Lambert waved away the apology with twinkling eyes. "Never apologize for curiosity, my dear boy. How is your lady friend, by the way? Any improvements on her health?"
"Actually, she's quite well. She walked me here from the inn this morning."
"Well, isn't that rather miraculous."
A thought hit Sebastian then, and he sat up straighter. "Did you send that healer to me?"
"I wish I could take the credit; I do adore miracles!" Master Lambert propped his fingers beneath his chin. "Did this healer say anything to you?"
"Not really, no. Perhaps it truly was nothing but a dream." Or a ghost.
His heart gave an unsteady thump.
Lambert only grinned and raised a crystal glass of some amber liquid his way. "And yet your friend lives. Dreams are fascinating stories of the night." He took a quick sip from his glass. "Now, let's discuss the work I would have you do here."
"Of course, sir."
Lambert walked around his desk. He appraised the mess of ink and parchment there, tsking his tongue as if the clutter personally offended him. Then, he pushed some of it to the side and leaned against the now cleared space, grabbing a folded piece of parchment from beneath a book.
"I received a letter from dear old Norham myself, you know," Lambert began, unfolding the parchment and holding it out for Sebastian to see. "Norham told me you would like to dedicate your life to learning. It's quite an honorable path if I do say so myself; though it can be draining in its solitude over the years." He peered at Sebastian with interest. "My old friend also claimed you speak the old language of the Scribes?"
Sebastian cleared his throat. "Yes, sir. My mother taught me as a child back in Eilibir. She liked to claim it was the purest language that ever lived." His heart clenched at the memories. "It's even said one cannot lie while speaking it."
Lambert lowered the letter, refolding it with care before reaching back to stash it in one of his desk's drawers. "I would have liked to have met your mother, I think. She is correct; the ancient language is pure to its core, a language born of Goddess Elayn, Mother of Earth, herself. Unfortunately, there are few left who speak it in our realm. Those who can read it even fewer. Look at this."
Curious, Sebastian watched as Lambert unfurled a yellowed scroll and handed it over to Sebastian. He held in his lap like it was a prized possession; he could tell it had been well read, creases telling of the many times it had been folded and refolded. The ink was faded but still legible, all the words written in the Scribal tongue. It was an old children's story, one that had fallen out of favor over the decades due to its more gruesome nature.
Naturally, it had been one of Abel's favorites.
After a moment, Lambert asked, "Are you able to understand it?"
"It's an old fable: The Dragon and Its Fire."
Lambert inclined his head, his expression conspiratorial. "Would you be interested in doing some translating for me? Some of the work may be benign like this tale here, but there's sure to be something that interests a mind like yours."
Sebastian couldn't keep the smile from his lips. "I would be honored, sir."
"Wonderful! Simply splendid!" Lambert pushed away from his desk, all but hopping on his toes towards the archway leading out of his office. "If you'll join me, I'll take you on a brief tour of the Halorian Library." He held out an arm to stop Sebastian from leaving the office. "I do have one favor to ask of you."
"Of course," Sebastian said. "Anything."
For once, Master Lambert appeared almost serious. "The language of the Scribes has been dead for quite some time, and there are people who believe it should remain that way. It's now associated in Rainier with Soleita and the devastation of the Purge. I would prefer you keep this work to yourself."
Sebastian nodded. "I understand. Scholars must study both the good and the bad of our histories, right?"
"Though such arbitrary terms should not be determined by scholars. We are nothing if not unbiased." Lambert winked at him, lowering his arm and ushering Sebastian out of the office. "Or at least we hold in our opinions of such things unless in the privacy of trusted company."
Lambert set a leisurely pace as they explored the Stacks. As they walked, the cheery Master Scholar kept up a constant stream of chatter, explaining the history of the library, how the lamps were lit without fire through some alchemical process as to prevent burning disasters, and how the ceiling of the grand foyer acted as a mirror that reflected the skies. He told of how the fortress started as a school, one to rival the Soleitian Academy, a place in Rainier where the most cunning, brave, and intelligent would mature and grow. By the time the two of them returned to Lambert's office, Sebastian's brain felt close to bursting in the most contented way.
He was surprised to see the ancient shelver, Huvert, waiting for them.
Master Lambert clapped the old man on a hunched shoulder. "Aw, Huvert, my amazing man! Please take young Sebastian to one of the vacant alcoves. He'll be starting his work for me today. Sebastian, I will meet you there momentarily after I attend to a brief matter." He spun on his heels, whistling a tune. "Good day, chaps!"
Sebastian looked after him with a bemused grin. If he were to ever put Master Lambert and Norham in a room together, gods only knew what type of insanity would ensue.
_ _ _
EDITING NOTE: So, while editing this book for The Watty's, I realized this chapter had somehow been left out and never posted. OOPS! So, here it is now! *face to palm*