by James Hunter
Mana flooded out of him, taking three-point-seven-five Mana a second. It seemed that his spell stability and his channeling reduction bonuses were taken into account here, thank goodness. Ten… fifteen seconds passed, and fifty-six Mana was out of his system and contained in the book. Thirty seconds later, Papier-Mache Mage was assigned to the other tome.
Moving with effortless ease, Sam tossed both books into the air without a second thought, as though he’d done this very thing a thousand times before. Instead of plummeting to the ground with a dull *thud*, the books floated in the air, breaking into a slow orbit around him like a pair of tiny planets circling a Sam-shaped sun. Not a moment too soon. A trio of Mages in brightly colored robes skidded around the end of the hallway.
“There he is!” one of them shouted, a finger outthrust and quivering. “We can’t let him get away, or the Archmage will have all our heads! Silence him, tear off his limbs, and cauterize the holes so we can take him alive!”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sam didn’t have to think twice; he turned away from the Mages at the end of the hall and took off in the opposite direction, a surge of adrenaline propelling him onward, faster and faster. Air rushed past his face, and his lungs worked in overdrive as bookcases whipped by him on either side, the titles blending together in a blur of glimmering magic and colored leather. Interestingly, his floating trio of books—Bill in front, linked by the silver soul chain, the other two twirling around him—kept pace without missing a beat or interfering with his movements in the slightest.
That was a nice perk. While he sprinted, Bill called out directions to him,
After only a few minutes of running all out, his stamina was flagging, and Sam was seriously beginning to worry how long he’d be able to keep the escape up. The worst that could happen was a quick death at the hands of an angry Mage followed by a respawn back in the Ardania town square. Or… was that the best option? He thought back to Bill, imprisoned behind magical bars… what if they didn’t kill him but managed to take him alive? If that happened, they’d toss him in that cramped dungeon and throw away the key.
Even if—and it was a big if—Sam managed to force them to kill him, there was no guarantee they wouldn’t simply be waiting for him at the fountain when he respawned. From there, it would be a simple thing to apprehend him. Once he got into that cycle, he’d almost certainly be forced to quit this character and start over; something he now wanted to avoid if at all possible. True, he didn’t know exactly what the Bibliomancer class had in store for him long term, but he was guessing this class was just about as rare as they came, which meant huge potential down the road.
Sam just needed to survive and escape. That thought kept him going, even when it felt like his legs would give out and his lungs would explode from the strain. He skittered around a corner and found himself at a four-way juncture with vaulted arches; dead ahead was a contingent of Mages, four deep, and at their head was none other than Octavius Igenitor. Boy. Oh. Boy. Did he look mad.
“You,” Octavius snarled, his face twisted up in a grimace of absolute hatred. “You did this. You stole my keys and thought to rob this esteemed institution of one of its most valuable prizes. You have embarrassed me for the last–”
Sam didn’t wait for the Peak Student to finish flapping his gums. A trickle of Mana flowed out of him, and the red-covered ‘Dangers of Arithmancy’ shot front and center, the book springing open as Sam instinctually spammed his Wind Blade replacement spell—Paper Shuriken. A four-bladed paper ninja star no larger than Sam’s palm exploded from the book, screaming toward the Earth Mage like an enraged harpy.
“Don’t you ever shut up?” Sam spat as the paper blade slammed into the Peak Student’s shoulder. Some part of Sam fully expected the silly origami star to bounce away fruitlessly—it was just a bit of paper, after all—but surprisingly, the Shuriken bit deep, slicing effortlessly through Octavius’ robes and lodging in flesh. The rock Mage let out a startled squawk and backpaddled a step; he hadn’t even bothered to cast Mage Armor. Thanks to Sam’s time in judo, he knew a weakness when he saw one and fully intended to exploit it.
But he also refused to make the same mistake that Octavius had. He was outnumbered and significantly outgunned. Abyss, really the only thing he had going for him was the element of surprise; chances were good that no one at the College knew precisely what tricks a Bibliomantic Sorcerer had up their sleeves. The other advantage was Bill’s knowledge of the College’s layout. With a thought and a small pulse of Mana, he cast Papier-Mache Mage. The blue-bound volume, Fantastic Fallacies and Where to Find Them, popped open just as the first book had and vomited out a torrent of paper.
The pages swirled around Sam for the briefest instant before latching on to his form, molding themselves around his body. In less than an eyeblink, the pages settled, and Sam found himself encased in what appeared to be Spanish conquistador armor with its rounded breastplate, flared pauldrons, tapered waist, and bulbous, balloon-like pants. The outfit was completed by boots, gauntlets, and even a short, fluttering half-cape which trailed down his back… except all of it—every single piece—was constructed from overlapping sheets of papier-mache. As a result, the ‘armor’ weighed next to nothing and didn’t impede his movements in the least. It did look absolutely ridiculous.
Better alive and ridiculous than dead and sensible. The Mages at the end of the hall stared, clearly flabbergasted by his sudden transformation. Sam rewarded them for their quick thinking and prompt action by sending another Paper Shuriken spinning toward the dumbstruck Mages.
Not wasting a second, Sam took off, but he didn’t stop casting Paper Shuriken each time it came off cooldown. Wonder of wonders, the crimson-leather book swung behind him, and though Sam couldn’t see what he was doing, he felt the rush of Mana flowing from his core. This told him he was still hurling folded ninja stars at anyone who might be trying to follow him from behind.
Skill gained: Sightless casting (Novice I). As a Bibliomantic Sorcerer you don’t need to look where you’re casting! By relying on your Soul-Bound connection to Bill, the Bibliomancer’s Sacred Tome, you can sense the rough location of your enemies and deploy your Orbital Tomes to launch spells at enemies in any direction, even if that direction is behind you! Here’s a firm reminder that sometimes the best offense is a good defense, and sometimes, the best defense is to run away as fast as you can! Effect: Cast any spell hot-keyed to an active Orbital Tome in any direction. 15+n% accuracy while using Sightless casting where n =skill level.
Wicked cool. Maybe Sightless casting wasn’t terribly accurate—yet—but being able to hurl spells even while you retreated seemed like a nasty surprise for people chasing him. A quick glance over one shoulder confirmed his suspicions. The Paper Shurikens weren’t really hitting anyone, but it was buying him just enough time to slowly widen the gap between him and his pursuers.
There was one other thing that he could do which would assuredly slow Octavius down even further. Sam swerved to the right, grabbed a bunch of books—most of them glimmering with mystic energy—and rudely pulled them from the shelves. Books *thudded* on the floor, eliciting a high-pitched shriek from Octavius and his fellow magical lackeys. Sam could understand. As a book lover, the idea of hurling perfectly good books on to the floor was abhorrent, but if he had to choose between his neck and a random book? He’d do what needed doing.
Sam’s flagging stamina was going to be an issue before long, but that was a problem for future Sam. Present Sam needed to move,
and he needed to move fast. So, despite his pounding heart, burning lungs, and the sweat rolling down his face in a sheet, he kicked on another burst of speed, following Bill’s instructions even though they seemed extremely counterintuitive. He flew around each turn, but no matter how fast he ran, the sounds of the chase grew louder and louder.
Octavius—or maybe some other group of Mages—was gaining on him, and he really couldn’t keep this going forever. Sam wheeled around the final turn then immediately skidded to a halt as an ominous straightaway appeared. This section of the Sage’s library was… different than the others he’d been to so far. Semi-translucent purple stones still lined the floor, but the bookcases here were all a black obsidian that gleamed with a cancerous green light. There were no candles or lights in the hallway, but there was no need since churning clouds of jade energy swirled through the air, painting everything with spectral illumination.
A placard was affixed to the isle endcap which read: Arcanum of Eldritch Taboo! Proceed with EXTREME Caution!
“You want me to go this way?” Sam hollered, eyes wide, mouth suddenly dusty and dry.
“There he is!” someone thundered from behind.
Sam stole a look back. Not Octavius and his crew but another group of Mages five strong. He didn’t recognize any of them on sight, but that didn’t really mean much; they would be just as effective mopping the floor with him. Their sudden appearance decided Sam, and he padded forward, moving at a much slower pace than he wanted. His stamina was running low, so he didn’t really have much choice in the matter.
“No, you fool!” the Mages shouted from behind him. “Don’t go any further if you value life and sanity!”
Sam ignored them completely and continued deeper into the aisleway. Before long, the clouds of green witchlight were twirling and dancing around Sam as he moved, caressing his skin and whispering odd words into his ears. Those words didn’t seem to be in any language Sam had ever heard before, yet he somehow seemed to grasp them regardless.
“Come, Disciple. This way,” they whispered gently. “Know the madness. Embrace the darkness. Breath in the Chaos. Speak the words. Deskhidati porta sik aduketi al-berk patrulea ororile adankului adenci.”
As the words flowed through his mind, Sam could’ve sworn he saw faces manifest in the green light; though it was always just out of the corner of his eye. A flash of saggy skin studded by spikes, here. The curved edges of protruding horns there. Glimmers of serrated teeth and tearing claws. Several titles tugged at his mind, urging him in closer and closer, begging with him, pleading with him, commanding him to crack the covers and just take a little look-see at the wonders contained within.
That’s legit, one of the scraping voices whispered in return. All hail the dibs and the binding laws of the great compact. Inklinatie-va inainte ve compaktual sacruk et Dibs.
“Steel yourselves, Mages! Brace your minds, and touch nothing—no matter what is promised. Only death and madness lie that way. For the love of The Accords, no one fire off a spell; we can’t afford to accidentally hit one of these books.”
Sam didn’t look back. They were almost to the end of the strange aisleway when Bill piped up again,
Sam did. It was hard to not to see the book since the snakeskin leather twisted and slithered as though it were a living thing. Worse, this book hated him, hated the world, and every living thing in it. There was also another feeling thrumming beneath those other sensations, something deeper and far more primal like a powerful ocean current. Hunger. That book, whatever it was and whatever it contained, wanted to eat.
“Yep,” Sam responded with a terse nod, subconsciously taking a step away from the tome. “Hard to ignore the book that is eyeing us like a bag of Cheetos.”
Everything about that sentence set up red flags for Sam. One, he was now sharing a soul with an artifact—person—who went back a long way with an Eldritch horror who owed him a favor. In retrospect, that was probably a bad thing. Also, it occurred to Sam that all of these extremely powerful tomes were not locked up, while Bill had been, which begged the question—just what in the abyss was the Bibliomancer’s Sacred Tome? Exactly how dangerous was Bill? Those were questions Sam had no answer for, but he was already way~y~y too committed to turn back now.
So, though he didn’t really want to do so, Sam followed Bill’s instructions. The Mages pursuing him were gaining quickly, but Sam didn’t rush the process. He gingerly lifted the book from the shelf—a sharp lance of fear exploded inside his gut the minute he touched the tome—and placed it on the floor, right in the middle of the hallway. His survival instinct was gibbering like a panicked monkey in the back of his head, just screeching over and over and over again what a terrible idea this was. He ignored the fear gibbon… and flung the pages wide.
Constitution +1! Wisdom -1!
The cover landed with a thump and hiss, like two drums and a snake falling down a hill. *Ba-dum, hiss!* Sam was already moving, and he did not look back. His stamina had recovered just enough for him to make a break for it, and by golly, he was breaking for it like no one had ever broken for it before. By the time he made it to the end of the aisle, screaming had started in earnest. Although he didn’t want to, he felt compelled to look and see what terror he and his new pal Bill had unleashed upon the world.
“Shouldn’t have looked back.” Sam gagged, unable to tear his eyes away. Enormous, purple tentacles studded with neon-pink suckers—each the size of a teacup—and onyx-black spikes bigger that Sam’s thumb, were flailing about in the air. One rubbery limb, easily as thick as Sam’s thigh, pulled a Mage from her feet, while another tentacle constricted around her middle like a python. A second Mage lobbed a brilliant ball of orange-gold fire, which splashed against the forest of whipping appendages. The attack didn’t seem to hurt the otherworld horror even a little but did get the creature’s attention.
A smaller tentacle, no thicker than Sam’s wrist, snaked toward the fire-thrower’s head. One quick squeeze later and the Mage crumpled to the floor, everything above his shoulder simply missing.
“You know that thing?” Sam was deeply disturbed.
On that, at least, the book wasn’t wrong. The Mages were so preoccupied with trying not to die—while simultaneously attempting to force the creature back into the pages—that no one had a second glance to spare for Sam. So, a win… Sam supposed? He shook his head, turned his back on the scene of carnage, and hoofed it into a connecting hallway. Bill continued to guide him, and bef
ore long, they found themselves in a dusty, dead-end passageway that looked like it hadn’t seen a human visitor in the past hundred years. The floors and shelves were coated in a thick layer of undisturbed dust, and even a few cobwebs decorated the shelves; though Sam didn’t see any spiders.
Chances were they were regular, ordinary spiders, but after meeting Bill’s ‘friend’ and fellow book-dweller Vh’uzathel the Hundred-Armed, Sam had absolutely zero desire to see what other things might call this place home.
Wisdom +1!
“Where to now?” Sam questioned in a low whisper.
They hadn’t seen any new groups of Mages since unleashing the Eldritch Horror, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t heard the pounding feet of frantic Mages and the shouts of search parties. Somehow, Bill had allowed them to fly just under the radar, but the Sage’s section wasn’t infinitely large. As far as Sam knew, there was only one way out—through the Prime Chamber with its many-colored doors. Which meant it was only a matter of time before they ran into another group. Unless the Bibliomancer’s Sacred Tome had some other nifty tricks, they’d be out of luck.
“Yes, I mind,” Sam snapped.
Yep. A faded, threadbare thing that covered the entire stone face of the wall. Truthfully, it wasn’t much to look at—a rather plain item embroidered with a variety of complex geometric shapes in muted tones of gray and brown. Sam concentrated on the fabric and found he had a particularly hard time focusing. His gaze sort of… slid around the tapestry, and he had the strangest urge to simply turn around and walk away. Mind your own business. There is nothing for you to see here. It reminded him of the first time he’d seen Nick’s Knacks, though the sensation to look but not see was about a thousand percent stronger.