Chapter Two: The Quest
Sardis and the Battle for the Library
Welcome to the serial, Sardis and the Battle for the Library, a speculative fiction tale. New chapters will post on Saturdays at 10 am Eastern.
Click here for Chapter One: The Quake. // Click here for Chapter Three: The Blue Book
The shivering and shaking of the second Library quake, though not as violent as the first, sent more books and papers scattering. Another delicate ceramic--this time a figurine of a woman carrying a basket of wheat--shattered against the floor.
Sardis didn’t sense another attempted intrusion. As they cleaned up the latest mess, he wondered if the quake occurred because of discovering his empty memory, or was it only coincidence? A mere aftershock of the previous attack? Surely, the tie between Library and Librarian wasn’t so intimate that a few lost memories made a difference. And even if there was a connection, what did lost memories have to do with the entity?
It was even more urgent, now, to leave the relative safety of the parlor and walk down the aisles amongst the books and scrolls. He needed to assess any damage, of course, but if there was something he needed to know about the entity, or about himself, the Library could lead him to the answer.
Sardis wasn’t too worried about his memories, to be honest. All the stories in the various universes were contained here. Surely, his story was as well. Filling in the hole of his memory should be a simple manner of finding his section.
The clacking of wooden beads drew his attention over to Drusilla. Whenever she fretted over something, she played with the tassel hanging from her waist. As she scanned the parlor, searching for another mess to clean, her hand fiddled with the green wooden beads. Their eyes met. She smiled at him. He smiled back and turned away.
When all was well again, Drusilla left to check in on her nymphs and trees to see if the Library quake had affected them. Sardis understood, but he hated to see her go.
Sardis stuck his head in the kitchen. “Time to clean up!”
The kitchen came alive. The faucet turned on of its own accord, and a line of soap dust rose out of a jar to fall into the water. The faucet shut off. Bubbles floated up as dishes were scrubbed. A broom moved about to sweep. It was as if invisible fairies were doing all the work.
Sardis left the kitchen to its work, heading toward his room. He passed Malo who was watching the kitchen at work as if he hadn’t seen it before.
“Sardis,” Malo said over his shoulder, “why can’t we ask the parlor to clean itself?”
Sardis replied, “Because that is not the parlor’s job.”
“But--”
“Hurry and change clothes. We must walk through the aisles of the Library.”
Soon, the pair stood in front of a large archway that took up half of one wall of the parlor. Ornate, gold-and-white wood trim, etched with ancient words Sardis could only half-read himself, outlined the entry into the Library itself. Beyond the entryway was another world.
Fog crept along cobblestones. Rows upon rows of bookshelves rose up in the near distance, their tops disappearing from view. Sunlight filtered down, fading and reappearing as if clouds were scudding across a sky. An eddy of air, tinged faint blue with magic, ruffled the pages of a book that had fallen from a shelf. Distant bird calls, followed by the grumble of an animal, reached Sardis and Malo where they stood.
Sardis had discarded the makeshift sling to better use both hands. He bit back the pain as he tied off the rope at his waist. Malo fumbled with the knot of his own rope. This was, perhaps, his fourth foray into that swirl of magic and light, so Sardis could understand his assistant’s lingering nerves.
But Sardis didn’t move to help Malo with the rope. Malo had to learn, after all.
The other ends of their rope were tied off at a tall pillar on the parlor side. It grew out of the floor like a tree, melding with the roof above. Fanciful creatures--pegasi, sprites, fauns, among others--were carved on the tree in a never-ending chase. This was their anchor that kept them from becoming lost in the world beyond the entryway.
Malo finished off his knot and jerked his head in a nod. Sardis led the way inside.
Interestingly, there didn’t seem to be much damage. They walked through several sections--those worlds’ stories shaping the landscape with sand or swamp or smooth cobblestones--and found very little wrong.
That is, until the wind shifted, bringing with it a fetid smell. Sardis turned into the wind and followed the scent.
It led them to a darker section of the Library. Here, cobwebs caked the shelves. Candles guttered in sconces. Broken tiles made the floor uneven, with gaping holes opening onto darkness. One bookcase had fallen over entirely. And the air was heavy with dank rot.
Niall, who rode on Sardis’s shoulder, let out a worried chirp. He snuggled in harder against Sardis, who reached up to pat the aerial.
“What is this place?” whispered Malo. He shivered.
“It’s--” Sardis stopped. The information did not come. The part of his mind connected with the Library was as still and silent as the stacks around him. He licked his lips, fighting against rising panic. “I do not know.”
“How do you not know?”
Sardis ignored Malo and walked deeper into the section. He stopped at a pile of books on the floor and picked one up. It vanished before he could open it.
Cold horror pooled in Sardis’s stomach, leeching warmth from his body. That shouldn’t have been possible.
“It’s you.”
Malo screamed. Sardis whirled around.
The Library in human form shimmered just beyond the edge of the desolate space. She wore a white, lacy dress with wilting flowers in her greying hair. “Who are you, Sardis Bastionista?”
“I’m the Librarian,” Sardis replied.
“Are you? Then how do you not know this place?”
Sardis tried to swallow but his mouth was too dry. “Why does it look like this?”
“You have drowned yourself in the stories of others. You have neglected your own memory. If the Librarian is not whole, how can the Library stand?”
She faded from view.
“What was that?” He clutched at the rope at his waist.
“Sometimes,” Sardis said, “the Library takes a form, if it feels it’s not getting a point across.”
“And what point is that? What did she mean about you and the Library?”
Sardis looked around the section, feeling cold and ill at ease. He had come into the Library to look for damage and perhaps answers. However, all he found were more questions. If the answer was not in the Library, where could it be?
“Sardis?”
He shook himself, focusing back on Malo. “We need to return. I need to consider what I’ve learned here.”
The day was long, and it was with a certain sense of relief that Sardis settled into his wardrobe bed for the night. He had drunk a little soothing tea, which helped ease the ache in his shoulder. Rolling back and forth, he settled onto his back with a pillow elevating his bad arm. He closed his eyes.
However, instead of sleep, his mind immediately began turning over the events of the day, lingering on the Library’s words.
What did she mean that he had drowned himself in stories? Story was all he had. It was all he did. It was who he was. It was the clock by which he told time.
The sun in the Nexus rose and set, but it wasn’t a true sun. A moon came out to shed its silver onto the landscape, but it wasn’t a true moon. Seasons came and went but they were not true seasons. The inhabitants were body-and-soul and needed bodily things like a sun, moon, and seasons to stay sane. So, the Nexus approximated them.
It was the stories, really, that clued him into how much time had passed outside the Nexus. Those swirls of action and reaction, destiny and fate, all spiraling toward the Library shelves all told him one thousand years had passed since he became Librarian.
It was true that having Malo as an assistant made him more conscious of the world around him. Perhaps it was Sardis’s imagination, but it seemed he was eating more. Malo had gained a habit of bringing him food, usually grumbling about how Sardis wasn’t answering him when he said that lunch or supper was ready.
But was it so wrong to be dedicated to his work?
He thought again of the damaged section where book disappeared when he reached for it, and the hole in his mind where memory should be. He thought about the dream, and the woman he couldn’t name. Despite the warmth of the room, he shivered. Perhaps he wasn’t entirely whole, if he couldn’t even remember his childhood.
If the Library was to be believed—and it had to be—then the gaps in his memory were a neglect that endangered them all. How, though?
As Sardis stared up into the darkness, Niall snoring softly against his hip, Sardis wondered what, exactly, he had lost as he had allowed stories and tales to absorb him. He thought again of the dream of the houses and the river, the person standing calling a name that was, at the same time, his and not his.
What were the names of the river, the woman, the slow-moving beasts at pasture? Where had he been, before all this? And if it was so important for him to remember, then how could he have forgotten?
Malo woke with a start, his breath catching in his throat. He looked around his tiny room, lit by a few stray rays of moonlight, listening to the pounding of his heart. This was the third or fourth time he had awoken.
With a groan, he sat up, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. He planted them to the floor and focused on breathing. On the cold floorboards. On the silence. He was safe. For the moment, anyway.
There was no one in the dark, just out of line of sight. That lady that spoke to Sardis had ignored Malo completely. As she should. Malo wasn’t anyone remotely important. He dragged a deep breath into his lungs and forced his mind elsewhere.
It landed on Sardis, who seemed lost and distracted after they left the stacks. It didn’t make Malo feel very good that there existed a part of the Library Sardis didn’t know, so he could only imagine how Sardis felt, especially since the section was about Sardis. What did that lady mean about the Library remaining whole? Malo remembered the circle of cracks Sardis never fully explained.
“There are many things that would like to consume the energy of this place,” Sardis had said, without further elaboration.
Was that what the woman meant? Was a creature trying to destroy the Library because of the hole in Sardis’s mind?
There were deep secrets here. It reminded Malo of the Thistlewood back home in Inlas. That was a place of wild magic which was not entered lightly. He’d never gone in, himself, and had heard enough stories to keep him from trying. It seemed that every world contained a place like that, from what he’d read and heard. And the Library was the ultimate example: a place of deep shadow and deeper thoughts.
He tapped his feet on the floor. Sardis had told Malo he could leave if it ever became too much. And he was certainly getting the feeling he was in over his head.
But Malo had grown a little fond of Sardis, strange as he was. He couldn’t leave the man high and dry.
Malo fell back onto his bed. No, he was going to stick it through, at least this crisis. Afterward, maybe it would be time to hit the road again. Find a place that was a little more predictable.
But he remembered Sardis’ words about how time passed beyond this place. Did Malo even have a home to go back to?
When Sardis opened his eyes the next morning, his next steps stood out to him in bright clarity. He sat up and worked his shoulder. It had mended itself overnight and he moved with no trouble.
After he got up, he went about his normal routine of prayer, hygiene, and dressing. But there was an extra step today. He took out a large pack and began filling it with clothes and other necessary items for a trip.
Niall watched from his place in a chair beside the window, his scales catching the morning light. He chirped a question.
“I’m afraid not,” Sardis said. “It’s safer you stay here.”
Niall whined and rustled his wings, resettling them.
“I won’t be long. I hope.”
The heady aromas of breakfast greeted Sardis when he left his room. At first, he thought Malo was in there, as that had become their routine. But a soft humming floated through the air along with the tantalizing aroma of sizzling sausages.
He dropped the pack by his desk on his way to the kitchen.
Drusilla stood at the stove, sliding sausages onto a paper lined plate. She looked over at him and smiled. “Good morning. Have a seat.”
Three places were set. Orange juice in a glass pitcher stood next to a carafe of coffee.
“I’m leaving,” Sardis blurted.
Drusilla froze, the plate in hand. “What?”
“What?” Malo said.
Sardis jumped slightly and stepped aside, letting the younger man enter the kitchen. Sardis cleared his throat. “I need to discover what I have forgotten. The hole in my memories--Malo, you saw that section in the Library and heard what the Library said. I think it’s for the best that I finally take on a quest of my own.”
Drusilla took the plate of sausages to the table and set it down. “I think someone needs to catch me up.”
Sardis told her about the ruined section and the Library’s words.
Drusilla said, “Is this what your predecessor meant about being deeply connected?”
“Perhaps.”
“And now you believe to make the Library whole and strong, you have to recover your memories?”
“Yes.”
She nodded. “Where will you go?”
“My predecessor, Bob, was fascinated by smaller nexuses. Places where the strange and mysterious are commonplace. There was one in particular he wanted to study more closely. We will start there. There’s a chance, though slim, that he left something behind.”
Drusilla turned away and went to stand at the empty sink, staring down into it. Sardis made a move as if to go to her, but stopped.
“What about me?” Malo asked, his voice pitching up. “What will I do?”
Sardis arched a brow. “You’ll tend to the Library, of course.”
“Alone? But--”
“You’ll be fine, assistant. There’s no need to worry.”
Malo pressed his lips into a thin line.
Drusilla said, “I’m going with you.”
Now, it was Sardis’s turn to blink. “What?”
“You’re not going alone.” She walked over to the table and took her seat. “And that’s the end of it.”
Sardis sat at his place. “But what of the nymphs?”
“Celeste will take care of them.”
Celeste was Drusilla’s closest nymph friend and who often helped when drama broke out in the groves.
Sardis said, “But--”
“No buts. Have some sausage.” Using tongs, she dropped a few links onto his plate. “Malo, dear?”
“I would love some, my lady,” Malo said, holding out his plate.
“You really don’t need to call me that.”
“You’re right. As you are a queen, I should be addressing you as ‘Your Majesty’ or ‘Your Grace’.” He smiled at her.
Drusilla blushed and helped herself to some food.
Sardis scowled. “Drusilla, you don’t need to come with me.”
“But I am,” she replied. “Orange juice?”
After breakfast, Drusilla darted back to her tree to pack a bag.
“Don’t you dare leave without me,” she called as she left.
Sardis explained to Malo that the his duties included walking the stacks to tidy up any messes or repair damage, and to care for the Library critters. Sardis explained that Malo may overtaken with a strong urge to write.
“Obey the urge,” he said. “The Librarian is part writer and part caretaker, sharing with the Library the burden of recording and archiving the stories of the universes. It will help you if you think of the Library as a person, rather than a place.”
“I know,” Malo said. “I met her yesterday.”
Sardis was just finishing talking with Mephis the Dog-man about his temporary absence when Drusilla returned.
Gone was the quartz and wood crown. Her dark brown hair was pinned up in a sensible bun, showing off her pointed ears. Her flowing green dress was replaced with dark trousers and a green shirt that brought out the pine green of her eyes. Her boots looked scuffed and worn. The pack slung over her shoulder was patched on the bottom.
“Not your first adventure, I see,” Sardis said.
“Well, there is a lot to explore here, you know,” she said.
Sardis reflected on the fact that he did not know that. He was so focused on what happened outside the Nexus that he never bothered to look closer to home.
Drusilla smiled at him. “Are we ready to leave?”
He looked around the parlor. Niall sat in his chair by the fire, watching them. Sardis had said goodbye to him but the urge to scoop up the aerial for one last cuddle gripped him. Along with anxiety which, like a hundred thorny vines, wrapped around his chest and squeezed out his breath.
I haven’t left since I agreed to stay, he thought.
A soft touch on his arm drew his attention down. Drusilla smiled up at him.
He breathed in, the vines sliding away to give momentary reprieve. “Yes. I think we’re ready.”
I loved the library - the perfect mix of cosy and mystical. But I'm excited to see where Sardis' journey will take him. (Although I'm glad Drusilla is going along - he'll need someone practical!)
I'm also ready for an adventure! I can't wait to see what the world beyond the library looks like.