Chapter 5 – The Library and the Archer
The sun shone, birds sang, and three headache-stricken girls groggily pulled themselves out of bed only because their stomachs were tired of being empty. Alye still had a hangover.
“Yours and his fault,” Philipia muttered.
Alye ignored her and stared out the window, her face in a happy (painfully so) state. “I hope we see him this morning,” she whispered to herself.
“I for one,” I interrupted, “would love it if we never saw his smiling…”
The door opened. We whirled. Aubrey stood there.
“…condescending face…” I finished weakly. It’s one thing to criticize a guy in the comfort of a room, an entirely different thing to do it to his face (especially if you’re staying in his HOUSE!).
“Am I to take it that you ladies would prefer to leave this morning?” he drawled with no hint of anger. Maybe he was just good at hiding it.
“Uh…yeah…” I answered. Philipia’s brow furrowed; she was thinking hard.
“Aubrey, is there a library in town?” she asked suddenly.
“No but there is one in the castle.”
“Can we use it, please?”
“Very well.” He rattled off a list of instructions and then bowed, finally leaving. Alye smacked me. Hard.
“Can’t you learn to be decent?” she demanded.
“I can’t help it if he’s a snob!” I replied angrily.
Philipia rolled her eyes. “Personal feelings aside, I’d love to get away. I’ve got an idea and it involves a library.”
Oh yes, this felt familiar.
Mind you, there’s a huge difference between a medieval library and a modern one. For starters, medieval bookrooms are a lot more exclusive. The process of lending books hadn’t been invented yet, so what was in the library stayed in the library. The books in the medieval one were all covered in leather and gold gild; only the inanely wealthy could afford such a place. But the atmosphere was the same: brainpower was practically eatable when in a library, and the whole make-noises-and-you-die-a-painful-death thing still applied.
After several turns and wrong corridors, we finally stumbled upon the castle bookroom. An elderly man was busily organizing new books high on one of the shelves. He looked down at us from high above, like Zeus looking down from Mount Olympus.
“Only certain persons are permitted,” he intoned with a dry voice. The dust had long since settled in his throat.
“Aubrey sent us, sir,” Philipia answered. “We’re looking for magic books.”
First I’d heard of it.
The librarian didn’t even twitch. Instead, he calmly stepped down the ladder and glanced over us, then led us to a particularly dusty group of shelves.
“What’s this all about?” Alye asked as the man walked away to return to his organizing.
“Is breakfast in the schedule?” I chipped in. “I didn’t like dinner but surely there’s someone in town who can lend food.”
“Not now,” Philipia replied. “I’m trying to find a book that describes our powers.” Finally, she gave a little cry of success. “Got it!” Without hesitation, she yanked an enormous blue book with tarnished silver lining from its companions on the shelf. I spotted the title: Shapeshifters, Sorceresses, and All Other Kinds of Magics.
“Perfect.”
We opened the page, feeling like we were entering some kind of secret rite thing. The first few pages were the usual boring stuff on the history of magic, blah blah blah. But as we continued flipping, the writing became far more interesting. Spells began to appear, some random, some useful, others so bloody dangerous you’d be nuts to try them. I didn’t really understand how magic worked but I made a mental note to learn some of these spells…if I really did have magic.
“Wait, wait, stop!” Alye suddenly whispered, halting the flow of pages. There was the section on shapeshifting. We read with eager minds.
Shapeshifting: an unusual brand of magic that predominantly takes the form of animals, although reports have been made of people turning into other objects. This frequently first comes to the user’s attention during periods of extreme stress or danger. Because many do not ever experience such feelings, there may be hundreds of shapeshifters that have never had the required stimulus to realize their abilities.
The first shapeshift commonly assumes the form of an aggressive creature due to the ability of such a creature to prevent or discourage the danger that caused the shapeshifting. At first, this ability only manifests itself when the user is under such harsh conditions. However, with training of controlling the emotions that cause shapeshifting (mostly anger, fear, or similar feelings) and exposure to environments that encourage stability of the mind and emotions, a shapeshifter may gain enough control of his or her powers to shapeshift at any time, regardless of the circumstances.
And from there, the section continued, displaying the stages involved in shapeshifting, types of animals usually recommended, and other such technical stuff. Philipia was practically jumping up and down in excitement. Only the repressive atmosphere of the library kept her from actually doing so. After several minutes, she calmed down enough to continue turning the pages. Several chapters over, after wading through stuff about werewolves, warlocks, and other such jolly stuff, we came upon Sorceresses. I stopped Philipia’s hand and read closely.
Sorceress: the most powerful of the female magic-users (consisting of witches, enchantresses, wizardesses, and sorceresses). A sorceress has the equivalent power of a sorcerer and is therefore directly below the rank of warlock.
As with any magic-user, the manifestation of magical abilities may come about during periods of extreme stress, even in individuals who have had no prior history of magic or contact with such. The materialization of these powers frequently occurs with the act of breaking, such as shattering a glass or causing an object to fly across a short distance.
I paused for a minute. I was a sorceress. As in Harry Potter and Eragon. Oh God. I turned back to the page.
As with any magic user…Wait, no, read that part…prior history…read that…ah, here…For a sorceress, magic can be produced with some effort with the user’s own abilities, but a wand, staff, or similar object is highly recommended for more efficient magic use in order to channel the energies.
A huge list of spells followed. My eyes skimmed over without really seeing them. My God, I was a magic user. I could cast spells, turn people into things, etc. I could wreak havoc at school! What fun! I could turn all the preps into hideous little creatures! Oh how awesome!
But then my not-so-common common sense kicked in. I didn’t have any way of getting back home. And besides, maybe magic just existed here in this weird little medieval village. Maybe magic wasn’t real back in real-time.
As Philipia and I oohed and ahhed over the magic book, Alye was farther down the stacks happily engrossed in a book about sword techniques. I believe the title was One Thousand One Hundred and Eleven Ways to Use the Blade. Cheery.
“Book reading, I see?” someone asked, busting apart the silence of the library and nearly sending our books flying. Behind us stood Redmond, although he was barely recognizable without his jester outfit.
He laughed quietly at our stunned faces. “What, you don’t believe a jester has time off?”
“Well…it’s not that…Just never expected to see you in…well…a library,” I stuttered in response.
He gave another silent laugh. “I take it my act of general idiocy was successful.” But then his face grew serious. “So, what are you three doing in the magic and swords section? By the rumors in the kitchen, you’re some of the most dangerous people ever to come here.” His blue eyes twinkled suddenly. “Are you going to turn me into something nasty for being so impertinent? Please don’t make it a toad. I hate toads.”
We giggled (hey, he was a jester; it was our job to laugh). Alye gave an evil grin. “No, but we might just use a large pointy object on you.”
“Don’t get any ideas, you nut!” Philipia cried, causing the librarian to give a withering glance in our direction and nearly chuck a book at us. Redmond smiled.
“Perhaps we can continue in the kitchen?”
The kitchen of Aubrey’s castle was a bustling, wonderful-smelling place, and we three remembered our lack of breakfast. Within seconds, plates of glorious breakfast stuff (eggs, buttered bread, etc.) were set before us by a blushing member of the kitchen staff who kept staring covertly at Redmond. Crushes. Gotta love ‘em.
A door slammed from in the back of the kitchen and a girl walked inside. She was about 15, with waist-long brown hair done in a braid, unusually dark blue eyes, a green sleeveless shirt, long gray thick gloves, and a brown skirt. She had a quiver on her back and a hunting bow in her hand with six dead rabbits dangling from the other hand.
“Hallo!” she said happily to the head cook, flinging the rabbits down onto the cutting board. Then she noticed Redmond and us sitting at the table. Her smile grew wary.
“What’s the jester doing down here?” she asked quickly.
“Entertaining,” Redmond replied with a shameless grin. The girl’s eyes darted over Philipia, Alye, and me.
“Aren’t you those three girls who fought off the soldiers?” she inquired.
“Guilty as charged.”
Her eyes widened. “Selene told me about you and I heard talk all over the village, but I thought most of it was exaggeration.” Remembering social graces or something, she held out her hand. “My name is Lunae.”
“Philipia.”
“Alye.”
“Tanya.”
“Now that the introductions are out of the way,” Redmond cut in, “let’s talk. What’s been going on in the forest?”
Lunae laughed heartily. “Soldiers came trying to hunt, but they were too drunk to do so. They nearly shot themselves instead of the birds they were aiming for.” Abruptly, she quieted. “But…perhaps this isn’t the best place to talk,” she said secretly, glancing at the busy kitchen staff who still had half an ear on everything. “I propose I take you three girls out to the woods and show you where I live. The jester can stay here.” Without another word, she gathered her things and stood up, striding swiftly out of the kitchen, the three of us at her heels.
“I feel very loved!” Redmond called after us.
“So Selene finally woke up?” Alye queried as we trotted down the muddy paths leading around the outskirts of the trees.
“Yes, but this is nothing. I have seen her stay asleep for a week at a time.”
“Are you and Selene good friends?” I ventured to say.
Lunae’s mouth twitched and she tried hard to mask a snort. “The villagers think we’re both mad. I because I spend all my time in the woods learning about trees and supplying the staff of the castle with food, and Selene because…well…you know.”
“The whole bursting into flames part?” Philipia guessed. “No way. You must be joking.”
Our laughter startled the birds and squirrels from their frolicking, although the sight of Lunae’s bow probably had a slight influence.
Lunae looked at us again, curiosity growing in her eyes. “So who are you three, exactly? You come to the village, Lord Aubrey takes a liking to you, you fight off four professional soldiers with…unusual prowess, and Selene steps in to save you. And that,” she emphasized, “is rare. Selene usually terrifies the people but stays out of their affairs. I do not understand why she helped you.”
We walked in silence and she waited for an answer. Alye whispered something to Philipia, who motioned me to come over. “Just wait a minute, Lunae,” Alye called ahead as the girl turned back with a questioning glance.
“What do we tell her?” Philipia whispered.
“Not the junk we told Aubrey. I lied to HIM because I don’t trust him,” I replied. Alye’s eyes glinted angrily but she didn’t say anything and I continued, “But Lunae? I don’t think we could fool her.”
“And what if she thinks we’re nuttier than a peanut factory?” Alye demanded, prickly from my Aubrey comment.
“Let’s just tell her,” Philipia sighed. “I can’t think of anything that would trick her, and I agree with Tanya; I can bring myself to trust Lunae. As for what she thinks of our mental state…well…we’ll just have to wing that one.”
We turned back to the waiting girl and Philipia have a sheepish grin. “Just hear us out completely without interrupting, okay? What we’re going to tell makes no sense at all (and we don’t get it either) but don’t think we’re lying because…well…”
“We’re not,” Alye chimed in.
Lunae’s eyebrows shot very far up but she shrugged her shoulders and plopped down onto the pine needles. “I am listening.”
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