by Logan Petty
“Who are you?!”
The young man scowled, pushing up his spectacles. “Please be careful. The authors of many of these tomes have passed on to the realm beyond. It would be quite difficult for my master to retain new copies. As to your question, my name is Scrío. I am the librarian’s attendant. Now, I must ask you, what are you doing here? This is a private collection, and my master is not expecting guests.”
Dust floated down from the disturbed shelf as Mari let her guard down slightly, “You said you’re the librarian’s attendant? Does that mean this is Ylsgrin’s lair?”
Scrío sighed, rubbing his temples, “This is not a lair, it is a library. Contrary to popular belief, some dragons are quite civilized. And then there is my master, Ylsgrin. He is beyond refined nobility. Member of the Council of Six, keeper of the world’s history, seeker of truth and knowledge - these are but a few of his glorious titles.”
Mari glanced over her shoulder, hearing the commotion outside grow louder. “Yeah yeah, that’s great. Look, I need to talk to your master. It’s important! The fate of Hammerhold is in the balance.”
A dry chuckle lilted from Scrío’s lips. He placed his hands on his hips and gave Mari an uncomfortably long stare.
“Do you think my master ignorant of current events? Did I not just mention the ‘keeper of the world’s history’ part? My child, don’t you see? He does not concern himself with intervening in the tide of fate, but merely records its effects.”
Mari groaned, stamping her foot impatiently. “Look, it’s not like I came here empty handed. I am a bard of Alfhaven, trained by the great lyricist, Houiln of Alfhaven. Maybe you’ve heard of him? Anyway, I have a gift for your master. Please, just grant me an audience.”
An earth shaking roar reverberated through the room from outside. Scrío peered over Mari’s shoulder, raising an eyebrow.
“Kor’s teeth, what’s with all that racket outside? And what’s with all the uninvited guests today? Are those friends of yours?”
Mari winced, looking over her shoulder. “It’s a long story, but the short version is this. If I don’t get a chance to talk to Ylsgrin before that angry sword slinging berserker out there, he’s likely to end up on Ylsgrin’s salad. Do dragons eat salad? Don’t answer that. Not important. Please please please, grant me an audience with the Librarian! I’ll make it worth his while!”
Scrío sighed, rolling his eyes. “Oh, very well. He is probably awake now, thanks to your friend anyhow. Ugh, I detest how grumpy he can be before his breakfast. Oh, but only one visitor at a time. I’m afraid your pet will have to wait here.”
Timbrell poked his head out of the cloak. “Pet? I’ll have ye know I’m a great bard as well!”
The otherworldly scholar turned and moved swiftly down the canyon of books. “Pet or Bard, it matters not. Those are my master’s rules, and you are his guests. It is not wise to disrespect a dragon.”
Mari grabbed Timbrell by the waist and placed him on the floor. “He’s right, Timb. We can’t mess this up. It’s our only shot. Just read a book or something. I’ll be right back.”
Scrío poked his head around the corner. “No touching the books. Right this way. Hurry now, I can feel my master stirring. I must see to breakfast, but I will introduce you first. Might give me a chance to skip breakfast duties.”
Mari gulped down the rising lump in her throat as she silently followed the strange attendant. Timbrell watched her go, quivering his lip and whimpering in hopes she would turn around and rush back to him. He leaned on the bookshelf as she vanished from sight. He snorted, thinking of how much he disliked Scrío. He glanced at a nearby book on the shelf. He spitefully reached over and touched the unusual gilded runes on the spine. The tower shook with a deep roar louder than anything Sawain could produce. Timbrell yelped and scurried toward the gated exit. He bounded at it, hoping he could squeeze through. At that very moment, Sawain appeared at the other side of the gate, dripping blood and heaving for air. Timbrell tried to halt, but skidded headlong into the gate, bouncing painfully off of it.
. . .
“Ee-ee-eep! Puh-puh-puh-please don’t hurt me! It wasn’t my idea!”
A deep, growling voice rumbled from Sawain, “Open this gate. Now.”
Timbrell shook violently as he looked around for any sort of mechanism. “Th-there’s no lever! I don’t know how to open it!”
Sawain snorted angrily, then looked around. His gaze drew upward, and after a second of thinking, the Swerdbrekker launched himself at the gate, climbing up it as fast as he could. Banthan appeared a moment after Sawain vanished above the gate. He gasped for air and sat crossed legged as he glanced up.
“I’ll just wait here with Timbrell and find a way to open the gate. You go save your princess on your own. We’ll catch up.”
Another growling bark from above announced Sawain’s presence. “Shut up, Banth.”
Banthan nodded, laid backward, and sprawled out on the dias. “Yeah, I think I’ll do that for a while.”
Sawain blinked through the red tint in his vision, angry at Mari’s insolence. He grabbed at cracks in the stone work as he slowly pulled himself upward. The climb took much longer than expected and the footing proved treacherous. He could see a window a few yards above him. If he could reach it, he could get inside. His fingertips bled as the stones dug into them, but he pressed upward. He was inches from the window now. He reached up to grab it and his foot slipped. He quickly slid several feet down, and caught himself by pulling out a dagger and thrusting it into the wall where some mortar was exposed. He pulled himself up again and placed a foot on the dagger. He pushed off it, snapping the blade. This gave him sufficient momentum as he reached out to grab the ledge. He pulled himself up and into the window, punching out the thick glass panel with an armored fist.
He stumbled into darkness, stepping on shards of glass as his eyes adjusted. He bumped into something large. He turned and found himself face to face with a hideous monster made of teeth and tentacles. He stepped away from it, only to realize it was not moving. In fact, after he regained his senses, he realized it was inside a massive tank full of liquid. The glazed, lifeless eyes confirmed the thing was not alive. Sawain let out his breath and looked around. This room was full of similar containers, dozens of rows and columns of strange creatures, magical monsters, even humans, elves, and other races of people. They were all suspended in the strange liquid. Urgency washed over Sawain as he heard voices above him. He knew he had to hurry, or Mari would join these poor creatures.
He ran from row to row, weaving in and out of grotesque trophies. He had to find a stair well or a ladder. Something that would get him to the next floor. He found the outer wall of the tower after several minutes, and followed it until he found a staircase leading up. He quickly ran up it. He felt one of the steps sink beneath his foot. Suddenly, the wall lit up as electricity arced through the air. Sawain rolled to the side, grabbing the edge of the stairs and hanging off the side until the arcing stopped. He felt the current lick his fingers, sending numbing waves through his arms. He held on tight as his muscles began to burn. When it was dark again, he pulled himself back up, massaging his arms.
“Got lucky this time,” he muttered to himself. “Better watch my step from now on.”
He moved more cautiously up the stairs this time, checking his footing. The next floor he found himself on was full of display cases. Sawain wandered among them, marveling at the contents behind the glass cases. Shimmering daggers, swords of a craftsmanship Sawain had never seen before, ancient boxes covered in gears and springs, and colorful gems the size of apples greeted him at every turn. His eyes stopped on a hammer wrought of gleaming silver, with beautiful angular designs along the shaft. Its handle was wrapped in the finest red leather he had ever seen. Something about this hammer called out to Sawain. He ran a finger along the glass case. As he did, the room filled with blinding light and a screaming siren pierced the air. All of the cases sank into the floor and vanished beneath st
eel trap doors. Suddenly, the monstrous winged statues Sawain just took notice of along the far walls came to life and charged him with stony claws outstretched, their leathery wings pushing them faster.
A flash of steel cut through the first creature as it closed in on its prey. Sawain’s greatsword cleaved it in half as he pushed through it. Gravel crashed around him as he swiped left and right, dodging deadly claws and removing them at the same time. The wind rushed from his lungs as one of the creatures tackled him, forcing him to the ground. He worked his right arm loose as it bit at his left shoulder, gnawing at the armor. The wooden tendrils of his ironbark gauntlet wrapped around his fist, gleaming like steel. He swung hard, hammering the monster repeatedly in the face until it let go, its jaw crumbling. He got back on his feet and landed a blow square on his attacker’s nose. It hissed as its face crumbled and it fell limp to the ground. The other beasts slunk away from him, visibly cowed. He stomped his foot aggressively in their direction and they scurried away in different directions, nursing their wounds in the dark corners. He spat a bit of blood out as he snarled.
“Worthless watch dogs you keep, Ylsgrin.”
He made his way to the next stairwell, where he could hear voices more clearly now. He had to hurry, he was out of time.
. . .
Mari followed Scrío along the twisting corridors of books as he led her to a stairwell. He glanced over his shoulder as he skipped a step near the bottom.
“Watch carefully, now. Many of the steps in this staircase are booby trapped. My master is not fond of burglars, so they are always armed.”
Mari nodded as she stepped over the trapped stair. “Good to know. Hey, I know what ya mean. I hate it when Banthan steals my lunch. Maybe I should start booby trapping him!”
A sigh answered her as Scrío led her into a dark room full of large tanks. Mari gasped.
“Are those . . . people in there?”
Scrío kept his head forward as he led her along the wall to another flight of stairs. “Eyes forward, please. My master’s pursuits are not to be discussed or questioned.”
Mari sniffled, rubbing her runny nose. “Fine, sorry for trying to make a little conversation. You really need to get out more, Scrío.”
Scrio stepped over a series of plated stairs as he climbed upward. “I go out quite often on errands for my master. I fail to see what that has to do with conversational skills.”
Mari followed her guide’s steps as she snorted, “Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t.”
The glistening gleam of the treasure room drew Mari’s attention as she gawked in awe. Scrío called out to her as the shattering of glass echoed from the room below.
“Please don’t touch anything if you favor not being torn to shreds by gargoyles. Quickly now, my master’s chamber is just ahead. I’ll ask you to not wander off to any floors above, as these are for staff only. Hurry up now, sounds like I’ll already have a busy day of cleaning up your friend’s messes.”
Mari shuffled closer to Scrío as she glanced behind her, her heart fluttering. He led her up the next flight and into a wide, open room full of plants and light. Ylsgrin himself sat upon a large bed that sat on the ground. He was much larger than Mari expected. She trembled in fear at the sheer size of his massive frame. Golden scales glittered like coins all over his muscular body. His tail curled around him like a great serpent, and his wings folded majestically against his back. A golden braid of whiskers draped down from his long nose. Glimmering purple eyes opened and focused on Mari as he raised his head from its sleeping position. When he stretched out his neck, it covered half the distance of the room. His skull alone was twice the size of Songrandir. Mari’s knees buckled as he flashed two rows of gleaming white fangs, each one the length of a short sword.
“Scrío, what is the meaning of this? Am I to be fed a living creature like some feral beast? No, send her back and have her cooked and dressed properly first. Oh, and see that the healer tends to that cold. She smells of sickness.”
Scrío bowed to his knees. Mari quickly did the same.
“Master, this girl barged into the library insisting I give her an audience with you. I tried to turn her away, but she is persistent. She claims she comes bearing you a gift.”
Ylsgrin arched a massive eyebrow as he looked the bard over slowly. “What gift can a ragged elf child possibly offer that is suited to a dragon. Speak quickly child, or I shall get uncivil.”
Mari looked up, tears in her eyes. “Oh master Ylsgrin, I do not have anything in the way of material wealth or artifacts of great importance. All I have to offer is the gift the gods gave me. My bardic voice.”
Scrío coughed and Ylsgrin smirked. “Child, your offering is . . . unorthodox, to say the least. But why? What is the reason you have come here? Please do not waste my time.”
Mari averted her eyes. “You see, my friend, Sawain, he’s coming right behind me. I came here against his wishes . . . . He had planned to barter a deal with you to help us fight against the Grey King. He believes if you help us, we can take Jordborg back.”
Ylsgrin waved a massive claw dismissively, turning his head away from Mari. “I have no interest in altering the course of history, merely observing it. If your friend did come here, I would deny his barter, regardless of the cost, and likely have him stewed for his insolence.”
Mari nodded, not looking up. “I figured you’d say that, that’s why I knew I had to meet you first. Please, Ylsgrin, I beg of you, spare his life. I’m not asking you to aid our cause, but please don’t kill Sawain. He’s Hammerhold’s greatest hope. He’s just . . . a little lost right now. He needs guidance. I . . . I beg of you to spare him and give him the chance he deserves.”
Ylsgrin scratched his beard thoughtfully. “Tell me, child. Why is it that you ask this of me? Why not ask to strike the deal in his place if I am your only hope to free Jordborg?”
Mari laughed. “Well, I mean, I don’t deny your help would bring this war to a close that much faster, but that’s not why I’m here. It’s not what I’m fighting for. I fight for him, because . . . I love him.”
Ylsgrin hummed deeply, shaking the air around him. Suddenly, screeching sirens flooded from the floor below. Ylsgrin winced, growling.
“It seems this friend you love cannot keep his hands to himself,” he sighed deeply. “Ah well, such is the frailty of mortal flesh. I will not hold it against him. You intrigue me, elf child. What is your name?”
Mari looked up hopefully. “I am Mari, daughter of Houiln, bard of Alfhaven. Pleasure to meet you . . . sir. So will you spare him?”
Ylsgrin chuckled, resting his head on an upturned claw. “This concept of love you speak of . . . . Long has it been a subject of great interest to me. How can something so fragile prove to be so strong? It is simple in theory, yet multifaceted in practice. I would be very interested to study the effects of love on living subjects. Being an ancient dragon, the social behaviors of mortals are difficult for me to study up close, since most people run screaming when they see me.”
Mari giggled, “Well, I don’t think you’re all that bad. Kinda sweet, if you don’t mind me saying. So that’s it? You’ll help us?”
Ylsgrin frowned, “I said no such thing. I merely said I would like to study the effects of love on living mortals.” He sighed, letting his smile return. “But that being said, I suppose I must take your offer to spare the boy. So be it. Mari of Alfhaven, in exchange for your bardic gift, I shall spare the life of this boy. Sawain, did you call him? Ah, I suppose I will have to venture outside of my tower to observe this love of yours. If joining this crusade is truly the only way I may get results, then so be it.”
Mari jumped to her feet, clapping joyfully. “Oh, thank you, Ylsgrin! Thank you!”
Ylsgrin’s demeanor softened. “Are you sure of this, child? I could let you both walk out right now, forget this ever happened. You need not give up what makes you so special.”
Mari’s heart sank. She did not really stop to think of the permanen
cy of this decision. She stared into Ylsgrin’s large eyes.
“I’m sure of this, Master Ylsgrin. If it means giving us all a chance to survive, maybe -- maybe he’ll find something else special in me.”
The librarian’s head raised in surprise. Mari swore she saw a tear glisten in his eye for a moment.
“Very well, child. I accept your offering and grant you my boon.”
Scrío yelped as a rush of boots announced Sawain’s arrival. Mari pivoted around to see the boy from Mistveil Farm standing before her, sword drawn and dripping blood from several wounds. His eyes exuded worry.
“Mari . . .”
She reached out to him. “Sawain, I—“
A blinding flash of golden light erupted from Mari’s mouth as she writhed in pain. Sawain watched in horror as her head tilted back and a ball of light shot up from her throat. The glistening orb hovered over to Ylsgrin’s outstretched claw. It hovered there in his grasp and solidified, turning into a brilliant crystal. Ylsgrin handed it to Scrío, who had hurried to his master’s side. Mari collapsed to the floor. Sawain dropped his blade and rushed to her side, lifting her head into his lap.
“Mari? Mari! Wake up!” He glared at the dragon. “What have you done to her?!”
Ylsgrin glared down his nose at the noisy boy. “A deal has been struck, binding as the contract of the stars in the sky. Your friend has spared your life in exchange for her most precious possession.”
Mari opened her eyes and smiled up at Sawain. She opened her mouth to speak, but only wind came out. Tears filled Sawain’s eyes as he looked upon her. He spoke to Ylsgrin without looking up.
“Give it back to her.”
The librarian growled, “You are in no position to barter, boy. A contract is binding and cannot simply be wished away. No, I will keep my word as Mari kept hers. Her love for you will prove a worthy subject of study. Therefore, I shall be accompanying you to observe how this plays out.”