The woman nodded in understanding. The teens fidgeted as she unlocked the doors. Astonished to find the library unprotected by the invisible security barriers surrounding most governmental facilities, Kayla questioned this anomaly while following the lady inside.
Shrugging her bony shoulders, the lady said, “Not much in here that folks would steal anymore. People read everything on their tablets nowadays. No need to protect what’s not wanted.”
Jaden started, and Kayla knew she wasn’t the only one who’d picked up on the woman’s baffling accent, or her other peculiarities.
She was tiny. Her wrinkled face contrasted with her lustrous, jet-black hair and sparkling hazel eyes—eyes that missed nothing and exuded a vitality denying any observer the ability to gauge her true age. Her strange clothes begged attention too. A long shawl, woven in vivid colors, hung from her shoulders to knees. Turquoise loose-legged pants stuck out under this and stopped just above antiquated buckled shoes.
With her shoe fetish, Kayla had automatically checked, wondering what shoes would accompany the wild swirls and lavish patterns of the shawl. Glancing at Jaden again, his puzzled frown almost made her laugh. “Don’t see many shoes with buckles these days,” Kayla said, smiling at the woman.
She beamed. “You like them?”
“Yes, unusual, and the perfect complement to your shawl.”
Charmed, the odd woman said, “I’m the librarian. My name’s Awena. Is there anything I can help you find?”
Kayla smiled. “No, thank you. We’ll explore a bit. But we’ll call on you if we get stuck.”
“You do that.” Awena stepped behind the circulation desk running perpendicular to the entrance, her lithe movements another contradiction to her apparent age.
Thanking her, Jaden and Kayla made for the catalog terminals. They were visible from the front door but along the very back wall of the entrance room, a sizable distance from the circulation desk.
“I wonder if they were strategic placing these here, or if they just ended up in the right place by chance,” Jaden murmured when they stood in front of the machines. “That lady’s a little scary. I’m sure there are some people who would run for the hills encountering a librarian like that.”
Kayla giggled. “Looks can be deceiving. I’m sure she’s harmless.” Facing the machine, Kayla commanded, “Bird with a scorpion tail.”
The catalog terminal, one step shy of extinction, made them wait several seconds as it searched laboriously. When the grinding stopped, the teens turned toward the printer, waiting for the listing the catalog would produce. Nothing happened. Unsure, they looked at one another.
“Maybe it’s out of paper?” Kayla suggested.
Jaden glanced at the printer console. “Nope, not the paper.” But just in case the console was defective, he bent and inspected the paper tray. Full. He raised his eyebrows. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“It can’t be,” Kayla said. “Let’s search again.”
But a second request yielded the same result. And so did the third.
Jaden threw a hand up. “Seriously?”
“Having trouble?”
Awena’s soft voice made them jump. She had crept up on them unnoticed.
Kayla eyed Jaden, who gave a small nod. “Well, we were looking for a book on a . . . an animal. Our online research gave us a reference to your library but no call number. We’ve run the same search through your catalog, but it won’t print the results.”
Awena frowned and then intoned, “Animal.” The printer spewed paper crowded with references. “Hmm, it’s working. What specifically were you looking for?”
Kayla exchanged glances with Jaden again. He nodded, understanding her unspoken question. “We’re not sure exactly. This might sound strange, but we think the animal we’re looking for is a bird, with a tail like a scorpion. Ever heard of anything like that?”
Awena inspected them, her bright, keen eyes darting from one to the other. “I have, but not in a long time. Excuse me a minute while I verify the reference at my interface.”
Awena flitted back to her desk. Unsure whether they should follow, Kayla took a tentative step forward.
Awena stopped her. “You can stay there. I’ll only be a few moments.”
Her voice was commanding. Obeying, Kayla glanced at Jaden nervously. This woman was decidedly strange. She had Kayla on edge. So much so Kayla wanted to grab Jaden’s hand and hold on for dear life.
Having him there with her was somehow soothing. What will he do if I hold his hand? Will he take it as the need for consolation it is or interpret it as something more? Just then, his eyes met hers, and Kayla realized she’d been staring. Hoping he wasn’t a mind reader, Kayla averted her eyes.
It was because of this that Kayla caught Awena watching them. She wasn’t sure, but she could swear Awena looked . . . guilty? Did she just remove something from that unique leather satchel on the desk and conceal it in the folds of her shawl? Kayla blinked, trying to clear her eyes. She was sure she had seen something. But the woman was bustling back to them, smiling.
“What you’re looking for is in the non-fiction area,” Awena said, leading Jaden and Kayla down a walkway flanked with bookshelves. “It’ll be in the myths and legends section.”
“Myths?” Jaden questioned.
“In the non-fiction section?” Kayla echoed.
“You two are full of questions, aren’t you? It’s refreshing to find such a rare quality in young people. Most folk don’t ask enough questions these days, just accept whatever gets put in front of their faces.”
“But legends and non-fiction don’t seem to go together,” Jaden said, as if Awena hadn’t spoken.
“It’s not so strange,” she answered. “Think about it. How do you suppose most legends start?”
Jaden and Kayla stared at Awena.
Realizing they had no answer, she prattled on. “Legends result from historic accounts of some person or event. Their basis is an actual event, so they begin as truth. But as time ticks on, they add details to give the story more effect—things that weren’t part of the original history. Centuries pass with more and more bits being added until the histories become so old they become a legend. By this point, they’re often so embellished it’s hard to know what’s truth and what’s fiction. And you can’t tell the people group they originated with that their legend is just fiction. Could you imagine their reaction?”
In a strange way, what she said made sense, Kayla reckoned. “You mentioned the book was in the myths and legends section. What’s the difference between a myth and a legend—or is there a difference?”
“Yes, quite a distinct one, in fact. Legends take place in a particular time period, and their basis comes from that actually happened, although people may’ve altered their facts to make a better story. Myths are religious explanations for how the world began or how a particular ritual started. You can’t place them on a timeline because their stories are timeless.”
“So a legend would have more truth in it than a myth?” Kayla asked, trying to get a grip on the subject.
“Not necessarily. However, they both have more truth in them than fairy tales or folktales, also in the same general section. You no doubt know those involve magical creatures or people. But some books have all three elements, blurring the distinction between these genres.” Awena stopped in front of a section of books. “Ah, here we are.”
When she bent down to the lowest shelf, Jaden stepped forward, offering help. But she brushed him off. “Do you think I’m so old I can’t reach the book I need?”
Jaden murmured an apology, shrugging at Kayla as he stepped back.
Kayla smiled sympathy but couldn’t help wondering, Does the woman seem more furtive than usual? Watching Awena like a hawk, Kayla thought she saw her reach into the folds of her shawl. That shawl again. Kayla blinked back sudden tears. Wretched wind! I feel like I have all the sand in Daxsos in my eyes. When her vision cleared, Awena was removing the boo
k from the shelf. Or was she? Kayla checked herself. This whole mess is making me antsy. I should have a little faith.
“I think this is the one,” Awena remarked, reading the cover. “Yes, this is it.”
She handed the book over, and both teens gaped. The book looked like it had weathered centuries. The worn leather cover sandwiched yellowed pages with wrinkled edges. Despite its obvious age and use, though, it was in excellent condition.
“Wow!” Kayla fingered the pages. “This book is really old. Can we read it without damaging it?”
The librarian hooted. “Of course, dear. It wouldn’t be on the shelf if you couldn’t handle it.”
“But I’ve never seen a book this old before,” Kayla persisted. “How old is it?”
“Old enough. We have plenty of old books. In fact, I’d guess in the last two years we only purchased ten percent of our books. As I mentioned earlier, folks don’t want to read a book of . . . quill and ink anymore.”
The way she delayed and then delivered the last words had chills skittering along Kayla’s spine. She darted a glance at Jaden, noticing the prickled skin on his forearm. He had felt it too. Does Awena know something she isn’t telling us? Kayla scrutinized the woman, but her face was expressionless. The same could not be said for her eyes, judging their every reaction. Or am I just imagining that? Time to stop with the paranoia already.
“Well, duckies, I should get back to the front desk. I hope you find what you’re looking for.” Awena ambled off, whistling a strange tune as they digested her ambiguous parting comment.
“Okay, that was disturbing,” Kayla said as soon as the woman was out of earshot.
Jaden nodded. “Totally.”
Kayla gripped the book as though their lives depended on it. She wished her birthmark hadn’t chosen this moment to itch again. Ignoring it as best she could, Kayla followed Jaden to a nearby grouping of tables and chairs, where they made themselves comfortable. She set the book between them, relieved she could satisfy the urge to scratch.
Then, looking to Jaden, they reached for the book together. Touching the soft, surprisingly warm cover, they oohed as their fingers exposed faded patterns etched into the thick leather. Inspecting the binding, they found many gentle curves winding over the front cover and around to the back, wrapping the leather with detailed markings of differing depths, interspersed by odd letters and symbols. The title, inscribed in a beautiful, gold-embossed, calligraphic script, read simply: Seekers Beware.
Jaden groaned. “That doesn’t sound healthy.”
“Guess it’s not if you’re whatever a ‘seeker’ is.” Kayla eased the front cover open and hissed.
Jaden must’ve noticed it at the same moment because he jumped backward in his chair, as if stung.
Stamped on the leather flap forming the reverse side of the front cover was the medallion.
For several moments, neither of them spoke. Then Jaden broke the silence. “Okay, I’m officially freaked out. First, that bizarre librarian appears in her funny clothes, and then she makes a suspicious comment about the quill and ink, and then the book . . .” He trailed off.
“What about the book?” Kayla pressed, noticing his prickled skin again. Jaden shrugged, as though not wanting to admit whatever it was he had been about to say. “Tell me.”
Jaden hunched his shoulders. “I just have this feeling. I can’t explain it, but this book has me worried. It feels like . . .”
“Carry on,” Kayla said when he stopped again.
“Well, it just feels like it has this power, way beyond our comprehension,” he finished in a rush. “Satisfied?”
“Yup, you about summed it up.”
“Kayla, warning bells are clanging in my head. What have we gotten ourselves into?”
Kayla fingered the engraved medallion. “I’m not sure. Yet again, the more we try to find answers, the more questions we raise. I have to admit I’m curious to learn what’s in the book. But does that mean we should? I mean, are we opening Pandora’s box here if we read it?”
They sat in silence, contemplating their next step.
Jaden exploded. “Well, I have to know. I can’t have that bird-thing hovering over me and not know what it is or whether it poses a threat! Also, this cover implies that the medallions are somehow linked to that brute. I’d like to know what that link is. Are you in?”
Kayla hesitated for only a second before she nodded, squashing her lingering uncertainty. Like it or not, they were in this together. And together, they would see it through.
Taking a breath, Kayla reached over and tentatively gripped his hand. Jaden looked up, startled. Then, to her relief, he smiled and tightened his hand around hers, squeezing it reassuringly. At least he hadn’t refused her. And she felt braver now that he was holding her hand. His grip was warm, steady, comforting. Kayla smiled. “Shall we?”
They gazed at the book. The page facing the embossed medallion was blank, so they flipped to the next. Small sighs of delight escaped as they absorbed the rich colors and intricate details of the images on the first page. Bold, flowing writing, not typeset, accompanied the elaborate pictures. Their hands entwined, they began reading.
Chapter Sixteen
The tale concerned the sixteenth century life of a young farmer named Gedrin. Living in a remote mountainous village, he battled the hostile land of their family farm to wrest sufficient food for them to eke a living. Week after week, he struggled to keep his family alive in the absence of his father, whose mysterious disappearance when Gedrin was fourteen had been the source of much village gossip. By eighteen, Gedrin was a strong, conscientious young man who, despite his duties, still had the occasional urge to be irresponsible and do something reckless.
On one such day, he gave up plowing in favor of exploring the hills behind his home, where he found an unfamiliar cave. This was unusual, as Gedrin was more familiar with the hills surrounding his village than most.
Well, found wasn’t exactly the right word. More precisely, he tripped over a rock and fell sideways through the slitted entryway of the cave, obscured behind a thicket of overgrown brambles. Recovering, he stared in amazement at the gloomy depths. Expecting the cave to be small considering its entry, he strolled further in, but an inexplicable sense of foreboding overwhelmed him. However, he was not about to abandon exploring such an isolated cave, so he ignored the warning.
Gedrin advanced, peering through the deepening darkness, gradually realizing how far into the hill the tunnel went. His surprise dwindled into uncertainty over whether he should continue. The inky blackness in the cave was now so thick he had to use his hands to guide him, revealing various side tunnels branching off the main route.
Just when he decided he would turn back, his foot struck something. Bending down, he used his hand to explore the obstacle hindering his passage. It was narrow, long, and rigid, surrounded by something softer. Closing his fingers around the item, he followed its path upward, assessing its shape—then dropped the item in horror. It was a human leg bone, partially clothed.
Gedrin staggered backward, tripping over a half-buried rock and toppling onto the stone-strewn floor. He lay there, panting, calculating what he should do next. Remembering his flint, he scratched around on the floor for kindling. When he found none, he raced back to the entrance, where he exited and gulped down fresh air. Revitalized, he slashed several branches from a nearby dogwood bush, lashed them together, and fashioned a torch which he lit.
Reentering the cave, he ventured apprehensively back to the human bone, determined to glean any information shedding light on the awful discovery. If he later regretted this decision, it never became public knowledge, but it did finally provide an answer concerning his father’s fate.
The woolen gloves knitted by his mother, the leather boots fashioned by his father’s own hands, and the twisted, dried vine bracelet, a gift from his sister, were all unmistakable. More than this was the medallion hanging from a leather cord around his father’s neck.
> Jaden stopped reading. Kayla had too, and together they stared, fascinated by the incredibly accurate depiction of the medallion, filling one-third of the page. The artist had zoomed in on the medallion and made it the focal point of that drawing.
Kayla’s grim expression mirrored his own. She raised her sage green eyes to his, and he saw his own misgivings reflected in their depths. Clasping her hand more tightly, he continued reading.
Unwilling to leave his father abandoned and unburied in the cave, Gedrin removed his shirt and gathered it around his father’s bones, still wrapped in their remnants of clothing. Then he carried them home, where he told his family how he had stumbled on the cave before showing them the contents of his shirt.
His mother’s distressed cry of recognition confirmed his own conclusion. She tenderly fingered the yellowed bones and ragged bits of clothing. With the bones exposed to the full light of day, it was clear some beast had attacked his father.
Deep, jagged score marks marred the arm bones, as though his father had tried to fend off a bear. And what appeared to be tooth marks covered his ribs. Unable to view the bones and the terrible story they told for even one second longer, his mother covered them. His family grieved anew. Eventually their weeping ceased, and they crept outside, woodenly digging the grave that would become his father’s final resting place.
When the hole was deep enough, they placed his father’s bones in the grave, and the family huddled, murmuring a few prayers. Resigned to this final goodbye, Gedrin lifted the shovel with the dirt that would cover his father forever.
He was shifting his weight to toss the dirt in when a glint caught his eye. The medallion winked in the bright sunlight, beckoning and drawing Gedrin like a talisman. He tossed the shovel aside and snatched up the nearby pick. Using its point, he leaned down and lifted the medallion from his father’s remains, placing it around his own neck: a token of his remembrance of his father. Then Gedrin retrieved the shovel and filled in the grave.
That same afternoon, sitting in the hut’s main room, staring aimlessly through the open door and thinking of his father, he beheld a strange creature in the sky. Despite the appearance of a bird and the ability to fly, it was simultaneously like no avian he had ever seen. Could it possibly be the mythical creature he had heard told of over countless village fires?
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