by L. EE
“Woohoo!” Andy celebrated.
“Way to go!” Alden added.
“So much for the key. It wakes up bad creatures, too. Guess we have to take the bad with the good.”
“Why do you suppose they came after us?”
“Well, they were guarding the entrance.”
“Yeah, but Andy, we’re friends, not foes.”
“They wouldn’t know that. Besides, I doubt anyone knew they would ever come to life. They’re statues. Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Unless somehow Abaddon’s already been here and put them there.”
Alden’s eyes grew wide.
“Or maybe I’m just being paranoid.”
“Let’s hope it’s that and nothing more.”
Still damp, they shivered a bit and left a moist trail as they climbed the steps only to find there were no handles on the doors.
“How are we supposed to open it?”
Andy reached into his tunic and pulled the key from the pouch. “With this. It’s always worked before.”
He held the key in both hands and spoke to it, “Please open the doors.”
No sooner had he said it than they heard the lock’s mechanism click. One of the doors creaked opened a few inches. Andy smiled at Alden and pulled the door open the rest of the way.
“After you, Andy.”
“Achoo!” sneezed Andy as he peered in, using Methuselah as a torch.
“Achoo. Achoo. Achoo!” trumpeted Alden as he entered.
A considerable layer of dust had built up over five hundred years. Each step they took stirred clouds of the stuff, and the boys kept sneezing.
“Well, Abaddon hasn’t been here, that’s for sure,” Alden managed to say between fits.
Andy moved Methuselah around. It felt like moving in the fog, only it made you sneeze.
“By Neptune’s star, who do we have here?” came a voice out of the gray cloud. Alden drew his sword.
When the dust had settled some, they could see they were standing in an enormous circular foyer. All around were volumes and volumes of scrolls filed in cubbies that extended several feet up the walls. Two curved grand staircases descended, one on either side, from ten floors up, directing attention to the domed ceiling that emitted slivers of sunlight around its circumference. Unsettled dust particles danced in the sun’s rays, giving the space an ethereal feel. Between the two stairways moved a white stone man. Clearly he had been a statue until moments before given the layer of dust he wore. Alabaster from his head and flowing robes to his hands and sandals created a stark contrast with the rest of the furnishings, which had been carved from the black rock of the island.
“You can put that away, son,” the statue-man said. “It’s so good to see you again after so many years, Kaysan. Ready to tackle that next scroll?” He laughed.
Andy glanced at Alden, who shrugged his shoulders. He kept Methuselah up to give the foyer more light.
“By the way, who’s your friend? You’re not Mermin.”
“Excuse me, sir, but are you calling me Kaysan?”
The statue-man laughed. “Always the funny one you are, Kaysan! Seriously though, what is your objective this time? Memorize all the prophecies? Conquer maps? Learn more about herewolves and therewolves? Study shape shifters?”
“Uh, sir, I’m not Kaysan.”
The statue-man laughed again. “Why, of course you are. I’d know your face anywhere.” Glancing around, he wondered, “Now, where is everybody? And why is it so dusty in here?”
“Uh, sir, I believe it’s been over five hundred years since the last person visited. Have you always been a statue?”
“For Neptune’s sake, Kaysan, of course I’ve always been a statue. You know that. But I do appreciate how you stop and talk to me and tell me what you’re learning, even though I’m just a statue. Everybody else ignores me—or worse, climbs on me. Now, why do you keep asking these questions?”
Andy stepped closer to the statue-man and slowly wiped layers of dust from his pedestal. He held Methuselah over a plaque and tried to read it, but the characters resembled those in the scrolls back home. Must be Oomish.
“What’s your name?”
“This is getting ridiculous! You know my name is Annales Cambriae.”
“May I call you Annales?”
“Of course, Kaysan, you always do,” the statue-man said, getting a bit testy. “Now what’s going on?”
“Well Annales, you seem to think I’m Kaysan.”
“But you are,” he interrupted. Annales pointed to a row of paintings hanging on a far wall. “Go look for yourself.”
Andy and Alden turned and walked to where the guide indicated. They moved slowly to avoid stirring up more dust but still sneezed several times. A shiver rocked Andy.
“Where is the cleaning staff?” Annales demanded from behind them. “How could they have let the place get this dirty? They’re always so particular.”
The boys reached the long row of paintings. Although several inches of dust had piled up along the top and bottom of the ornate frames, they could still see the images. There must have been thirty or forty of them.
“Which one is supposed to be me?”
“Third one in, of course. But you know that. I don’t understand why all these questions. Honestly, it’s as if you’d never seen the place before.”
The first portrait showcased a king in regal garb standing behind a seated woman. She wore a long white gown and a tiara graced her flowing brown locks. The couple smiled at each other. Next they saw the portrait of a teenage girl. She sat stiffly in an elegant white gown. The small plaque below the portrait spelled out something in Oomish, but they couldn’t read it.
Andy gasped. “It’s Imogenia!”
“How do you know?”
“It’s the same girl I see in my dream, her face is identical except it’s translucent.”
Eyes wide, Alden pointed at the next portrait. “Does that mean this picture’s—”
“The King just a few years older than me?” Andy finished the sentence.
Both boys’ mouths dropped open as they looked fixedly at the image. The picture of a brown-haired boy dressed in royal robes stared back. He had brown eyes, an average nose, and an average chin. To Andy, he was staring at his own reflection in a mirror.
“Whoa,” escaped from Andy’s mouth as he stepped back.
Alden’s eyes followed Andy. He looked back at the picture and studied it some more.
“I told you,” chimed in Annales. “Now do you remember, Kaysan?”
Ignoring Annales, Andy continued, “Wait a minute. Does that make the King—”
“Your grandfather?”
“My grandfather? Whoa! I remember the King saying he sent his wife away when the people rose up against him, but he didn’t say where she went. Merlin had something to do with it, from what Mermin told me.”
“Really?” Alden exclaimed.
“Yeah, the King talked about his wife leaving, and then Mermin mentioned he still missed his brother, Merlin. I have no idea how those two incidents relate, but it sounds like they might.”
Alden nodded.
“This is just too wild! The King could be my grandfather? Actually, he’d be my great, great, great, great grandfather.” Then, thinking out loud, he murmured, “How many generations would that be? And why didn’t my parents ever tell me?”
“For that matter, why wouldn’t the King have told you you’re related?”
“I don’t think he knows. Maybe my parents don’t know either.”
“But wouldn’t he see you and know?”
“Alden, do you remember what you looked like when you were a baby?”
“Well, no.”
“It’s been over five hundred years since he sat for that portrait, and he certainly hasn’t been back here to see it since then. I haven’t seen any others hanging anywhere in the castle, have you?”
Alden shook his head then asked, “Do you realiz
e what this makes you?”
Andy hesitated. “The heir to the throne?” The thought struck him and he didn’t know what to do or say. Heir to the throne? Heir to the throne. Heir to the throne!
Alden nodded and a huge grin broke across his face.
“Of course you’re the heir to the throne, Kaysan. Right behind your sister, of course,” Annales chimed in.
A loud noise like someone pounding on a door interrupted them.
“Now, who do you suppose that could be?” Annales questioned. “Cleaning folks coming to get the place back in shape, I hope.”
He hopped down off his pedestal and disappeared, stirring up clouds of dust. Both boys sneezed repeatedly. Andy swore he saw a herd of dust bunnies hop away.
Annales reappeared several minutes later with more statues in tow.
“Great Neptune’s stars! This place is a mess!” exclaimed a plump woman in a mid-length dress and apron. “Come on. Dilstie, Avice, Ralf, Alson, we’ve got work to do! Place looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in a few centuries. How could they let it get this bad? Let’s see how dirty the rest is.” Then the boys heard her grumble under her breath, “Where is the cleaning staff anyway? Oughtta be fired, I’d say.”
Andy and Alden chuckled.
After the crowd of statues left and some of the dust had settled, the figure of a man dressed in scholarly robes became visible in the dim light. Without saying a word, he stepped forward and Andy and Alden crossed the foyer to meet him.
“Greetings, young scholars. My name is Aldred. It seems the teachers are not available at this time. Please allow me to assist you.”
“I’d like to brush up on my Oomish,” Andy said. “Can you show me where I can do that?”
“An excellent choice, Kaysan,” chimed in Annales.
“If you would, please come with me,” instructed Aldred, motioning them to follow.
Aldred headed up the left stairway. Higher and higher they climbed. Andy glanced over the railing and could see their footprints and darker wet spots in the dust below. Another chill rocked his body. The boys kept sneezing and panted with the exertion. They started coughing as dust filled their nostrils and mouths. Their guide stopped at the eighth floor and the boys breathed a sigh of relief.
Andy held Methuselah in front of him to illuminate a dark corridor. The black stone walls were ornately decorated with tapestries, much like the boys had seen in the castle dungeon. They passed at least a dozen doorways along its length. Andy shined his light into one and saw walls lined floor to ceiling with more cubbies crammed with scrolls.
The library had a reverential feel about it, and Andy whispered to Alden, “This whole place is filled with scrolls!”
“Yeah, the entire history of a country. Wow!” Alden whispered back.
“We could spend days here and not make a dent. And I would, too, if the King…if my grandfather and Mermin weren’t sick.” Andy grinned as he said it. “You know, I like the sound of that. My grandfather.”
Alden smiled.
The corridor continued, but Aldred stopped at a doorway with a sign in Oomish above it. “Here you are, sirs. Scrolls teaching the fundamentals of the Oomish language.”
This room looked much like the one further back and also overflowed with scrolls. A woven rug that would have been purple had it not been covered in dust, lay in the middle of the room. A black reading table, also covered in a thick layer of dust, stood on it. There were no chairs. Six torches hung on the walls farthest from the scrolls. If Andy had a match he would have lit them, but Methuselah’s light sufficed so they could see. Andy noticed the back wall radiated warmth like the cave at Glaucin’s home, and he stepped closer to it. Alden joined him, smiling as he felt the heat.
“Where should we start?” Andy asked Aldred. “I don’t know any Oomish, but I’ve seen Oomish characters on some scrolls. I’m trying to figure out what they say.”
“For that, I’ll direct you to Baruti. He knows where every scroll in this room is filed.”
Another statue stood in a niche across the room. He wore a black robe with a gray rope sash similar to Aldred’s. The robe had a cowl at the neck and reminded Andy of friar costumes he’d seen. As Baruti stepped forward, he brushed the dust off his arms, head, and shoulders, sending the boys into another sneezing fit.
“Baruti is the teacher for this room. My understanding is that he stood watch as craftsmen hewed it out of the rock. He has been here as each and every scroll was added to the collection. Is that correct?”
The statue nodded.
Aldred turned to Baruti and said, “If you please.”
“I’ve been here since the beginning and heard every lesson ever taught at this table. I’m honored you are here and that I may be of assistance. I’ve heard what you need. Please meet me at the table.”
Baruti walked to the first column of scrolls to Andy’s left, pulled one out, and brushed the dust from it. He joined the boys at the dust-covered table. Alden suggested they wipe the surface clean first, and more sneezing ensued. Once the dust had settled, Baruti laid the scroll on the table and had barely begun unrolling it when Andy noticed characters written on the outside.
“What are those?”
“The reference number for this particular scroll. Why do you ask?”
“I’ve seen numbers like these before.”
Andy wrote the characters he’d memorized in the dust that remained on the table.
“Aldred would know more about that since he is a guide.”
Aldred stepped forward and read the characters. “If I remember correctly, that’s in the prophecies section.”
“What about this one?”
Again Andy wrote characters in the dust.
“And that would be in the sorcery section.”
“Sorcery section?” Alden queried.
“Of course. It covers narratives of forces we cannot explain.”
“What about this one?”
“That would be in the family history section,” Aldred replied after reading Andy’s writing.
“Would you like to see what’s inside this scroll?” Baruti interrupted.
“Yes, I would.”
Baruti carefully unrolled the parchment and placed four stones from the tabletop at its four corners to hold it open.
“This is the Oomish alphabet, of course,” Baruti began.
Andy and Alden glanced at the scroll filled with characters they did not understand. They exchanged looks as the scholar began his lecture, “The alphabet begins with the character uda and sounds like ew.”
“Um, excuse me,” Andy interrupted.
“Yes, what is it?”
“We don’t have time to learn Oomish right now. Is it possible to have someone translate what I can remember?”
“Why, of course. We are here to serve in whatever way we can. Perhaps Aldred could take you to the sections with the reference numbers you mentioned and someone there can assist you further.” At this, Baruti bowed.
“Very well. Then if you’ll please follow me,” Aldred instructed.
He exited the room and headed back toward the stairway with the boys following. Andy still held Methuselah to light the way. They walked down two flights of stairs, then down a corridor nearly identical to the one on the eighth floor. Only the fancy tapestries looked different. Aldred stopped at the third doorway on the left and motioned for them to enter.
“This is the family history room, and this is Fronia, the teacher for this space.”
A female statue stepped forward and bowed as the boys approached. Like Aldred and Baruti, she wore a black robe with sandals, but she also wore a carved flower in her stonework hair.
“How may I be of service?”
“I have the reference number for a scroll that I’d like you to translate into English for us.”
“Very well. What is the number?”
As before, Andy wrote in the thick dust of the stone table at the center of the room.
“One moment.�
�
The statue walked over to a cubby and looked through the scrolls, scattering dust particles about. Not finding what she looked for, she performed the search again with the same result.
“I’m sorry, sir, but that scroll is missing.”
“Missing? Surely you have more than one copy of each scroll,” Andy queried.
Fronia shook her head. “Each scroll is unique. No copies have been made for fear that scribal errors could modify the meaning over time.”
“Well, I know where that scroll is,” Andy murmured under his breath. “How would a scroll go missing?”
“I do not know. Perhaps someone misfiled it. But if it were misfiled, it would be lost forever in a place this size.”
“Could someone have borrowed it?”
“No. Borrowing is not permitted.”
“Can I write some of what I saw on the scroll and have you translate it into English for me?”
“You have seen the missing scroll?”
“I might have. You don’t charge late fees on overdue scrolls, do you?”
Fronia and Alden looked at Andy with blank expressions.
“I guess not. Well, that’s good since it’d probably be more than I can afford,” he added.
Andy wrote several characters in the dust.
“Sounds like a family tree. Succession of Kings. Ferrin I, Ferrin II, Ferrin III, Matillis I,” she said as she wrote the corresponding words in English next to each line.
“These are the kings of Oomaldee?”
Fronia nodded. “Their lineage.”
“King Ferrin was the first king?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t Glaucin say King Ferrin III started this library?” Alden interjected.
“He did,” the statue confirmed.
“Who was King Matillis? Did he conquer the Ferrins?”
“All the kings share one lineage. When an heir to the throne is crowned, he or she may choose their name. They usually choose based on what they hope to accomplish during their reign. The name Ferrin means ‘peace and power.’ The three Ferrins established the kingdom, putting in place rules of governance that they hoped would bring peace. They also set up commerce and trade with other lands, which brought power to the kingdom. When King Matillis assumed the throne, neighboring nations were challenging Oomaldee. So he adopted a name that means ‘might in battle,’ since he knew the time had come to show its power.”