The Untold Prophecy (The Last Library Book 1)

by Jill Cooper

  After dinner, we cleaned the kitchen and did chores. Once done, I excused myself to the quiet of my sleeping quarters and listened to their footsteps, even their breathing. Momma uttered a good night outside my sleeping nook. I kept my eyes closed, refusing to say anything at all, holding my breath until her footsteps brought her up the stairs.

  Finally, I was alone for the first time in what felt like ages and I packed quickly. My books, I stuffed them, along with my robe and knife, into my satchel. I slid the map, transformed in gold writing with secrets etched onto it that I didn’t even begin to understand.

  Quietly, I crept into the shop and grabbed supplies. Nothing fancy, just some lavender and lemon and orange rinds for luck. I took some food rations, some tea bags and gazing back longingly in my home, I imagined my parents awakening to discover I was gone.

  I didn't want to just disappear, but what choice did I have? I couldn't leave a note they could read. And even if I did, it might seal their fate.

  “Why don't you take some money while you’re at it?” Startled, my eyes were drawn to the curtain. “ Poppa …”

  There he stood, in his pajamas with his glasses in his hands. I was caught and now how would I explain myself?

  He took a deep breath as he limped forward. “I would have hoped that even if you had somewhere to go, you’d say goodbye.”

  “How did you know I was leaving?”

  “You’ve been distant, rude at dinner. Dismissive to your mother.”

  Shame washed over me, and I hung my head. Was I so transparent?

  “Whatever it is that you’re up to, it’s a fool’s errand, Abby. But I also know I can’t stop you. The day has long past since I could.”

  I bit my lip. “You know why I have to do it.”

  “Pray tell what it is you think you can accomplish sneaking out at night? Past curfew. If you’re caught…”

  “This is the only time I can do it. This is the only chance I have.”

  “To….” Poppa led me on, as if he needed me to say it.

  “To save George. Tomorrow morning he’ll be dead.” As I said it, my plan shocked even me. It sounded so final, so stupid, but it was what I’d set out to do and I would do it.

  Poppa placed a hand on my shoulder and he pressed his lips together so hard, they disappeared beneath his mustache. “Is it about the Timothy fellow? You know why we are pushing you to marry him. It’s not because we love the Richardsons, I can tell you that.”

  “It’s not about him. It’s about…everything else. George, the ministers, the hunters. The books, the glorious books they’ve deemed too destructive to society. It’s everything I love and how the ministers say it’s wrong. I know I’m not wrong. I know the things that give me joy, give me hope. The stories….”

  He was quiet, and I realized I had said too much, gone too far.

  Poppa licked his lips. “You have books on you? In this house? And you’ve read them?”

  I opened my mouth to argue and somehow, he knew—he just detected it, as though he’d read it plainly on my face. “Don’t argue. Just answer the question.”

  “A few books. I’ve read them. The stories, if you could hear them—”

  “How long has it been since you could read?” Poppa’s temper grew, and I could feel his anger rolling off of him, but it was coupled with fear. A dangerous father combination.

  My heart fluttered but I didn’t have time to argue, nor did I have the heart to lie. “Don’t tell Momma. Please.”

  Poppa ignored my plea. “Did someone teach you?” Poppa studied my face intently, and I gave a slow shake of my head, unable to find the words. “By everything we hold dear…don’t let anyone know. You hear me? If the ministers catch wind of your reading with natural ability, you’ll be…my darling, Abby.”

  Tears formed in his eyes as he cupped my chin and I, too, thought to cry. “I never meant to read, Poppa. But it’s wonderful.”

  “Never apologize for who you are. Not to me, all right? Not to me.”

  My heart filled with grief. “I wish I had time to teach you. To show you the magic, and everything that it is. Oh, it’s so wondrous! The worlds and adventures it takes you on.”

  “I wish I was as gifted as you, but time is short, isn’t it?” Poppa took a deep breath calming himself. “How could you even begin to think you can get him out?”

  I shrugged. “I don't know, but I know I have to try.” I leaned forward and gave him a hug. “Don't wait up for me. And Momma…”

  “I'll tell the ministers I sent you on an errand. Emergency in nature. But it’s only going to buy you so much time.”

  I nodded, grateful for everything he had said. “If George and I get free, we’re headed to the border. We’ll be living a life much different than the one I’m used to.”

  “Not the border, Abby,” Poppa whispered. “Do you have any idea how bad conditions are in the Unforgiving Lands? How the Barbarians think? How they live? That’s no choice for my daughter.”

  “The ministers chose it for me, I didn’t choose it for myself. All I know is that I need to rescue George. I love him, I need to be with him.”

  “I know this is your choice, Abby, but it is foolish. You won’t accomplish what you mean to, no matter which way things turn,” Poppa said.

  There wasn’t much I could say to that. “Let’s hope you’re wrong. Wish me luck.”

  His eyebrows crinkled, and he looked at me funny and it made him snort with laughter out of his mouth. “What a peculiar thing for you to say.”

  “You and Momma will be okay?” I asked.

  “Don't worry about us old goats. We’ll manage.”

  I stepped past the threshold with nothing but a mission strapped to my back. Glancing back at the old door that led to my father’s shop—my home—left a bitter taste in my mouth.

  I didn’t know when I’d see it again or if I would even be returning at all.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tarnish Rose

  The stockades were in Eldertown, the part of the city decimated in the war that brought the hunters. The buildings and streets were crumbled and in ruin, except for the center town hall with the large dome. There the Minister of City Affairs worked, and the prisoners were kept until the following morning where they were executed in the center of town.

  It was where I needed to be.

  Already donning my robe, I snuck quickly and quietly in the dark toward the building. The ministers didn’t work round the clock and I had to hope that I’d be able to get to George and then get him out before anyone noticed me.

  Or I’d be joining him in the stockade.

  I crept around the building, staying close to the wall. When I glanced up, I could barely see the roof, but something floated up above. With luck, they wouldn’t sense me until it was too late. Hunters couldn’t sense everything at all times and for that, I counted my lucky stars.

  I made my way around and came to a set of bars. Kneeling down, I peered inside and heat rose up from the small window. Inside were two guards. One was asleep with his feet up on the table, crusted bread and a bowl of stew in front of him. The other played some sort of game with seven rocks.

  Oh, solitaire. That was a game Poppa had taught me when I was young to help pass the time. Instead, all it had done was inspire boredom.

  Creeping along, I peered down into another window and saw George. He was lying on his side and his feet were tucked beneath him. His lifeless eyes stared ahead at the wall and his finger traced something into the dirt floor. I didn’t know what it was. It had two curved sides and came to a point, like a triangle at the bottom.

  I had never seen anything like it before.

  Whistling, I tried in desperation to get his attention. If only I could’ve slipped a note through the bars. But he wouldn’t have understood the words, would he?

  “George?” I whispered. When that didn’t work, I clinked my fingernail on the bars.

  He glanced around and when his eyes fell on me, he shook his
head. He mouthed, “What are you doing here?”

  “Rescuing you,” I whispered.

  George cupped his ear.

  I sighed and cupped my mouth. I pronounced the words nice and slow. “RES-CU-ING Y-O-U.”

  He scampered to his feet and ran toward the window. “How? Abby, you’re going to get caught. I won’t have you get yourself killed because of me.”

  He meant it; I could see the fear in his eyes and it strengthened my resolve. “Where’s your mom? Is she close by?”

  George’s face crumbled, and darkness swelled in its place. “She…she’s not here. I did all this and she’s already…”

  Dead? “I’m sorry,” I whispered the words.

  He nodded and the grief appeared on his face. “What’s your plan?” His voice hushed lower than before.

  George was going to be brave and I was glad to hear it. “Those old tunnels you say that are under the stockade that lead into the ruins beneath us? Do you know how to get to them?”

  “I do. I can get us there.” His eyes flickered away and then he held his finger up to me. “Hold on.” George turned his attention toward something and I feared it was the guard. He walked away, and he mumbled. “No, what? I wasn’t talking to anyone. You were mistaken.”

  Oh, no. I could hear the guard unlocking George’s cell. It was now or never. I had to make my move. Crazy and stupid as it was, I ran into the stockade and down a flight of stairs into the prison. It was a good thing that was the only way I could go, or I might’ve gotten lost.

  The one guard was asleep at his desk—as I saw when I’d peeked inside earlier—but the other was standing in the cell with the door open. Poor George had his hands up and was moving back against the wall.

  “You going to explain to me why you think you’re allowed to stand up? To think? Stupid kid.”

  I had to think fast. I picked up the bowl of steaming stew from the table and came up behind the guard. “Hey!” I called.

  When he turned around, I slammed it into his face and pushed him back against the wall. “Hurry,” I whispered to George. “Run!”

  “It burns!” The guard shook his hands, wiping his face clean. I didn’t wait around for him to discover my identity. I slammed the door closed, locked it, and took the key that was still dangling from the steel frame.

  The guard at the table stirred awake, his groggy eyes and saggy jowls following me. “Who are you? How’d you get in here?”

  I picked the mug off the table and used it to smack him on the forehead, right between his eyes.

  “Hurry Abby!” George grabbed my hand as we ran down a set of stairs around the corner. He used my name.

  We made it into a cramped hallway and each way it twisted led us into another hallway, and another set of stairs. We kept running, turning, and sprinting until my lungs were on fire and breath hard to come by. The stone walls turned to dirt as we slipped further underground and moss grew beneath our feet.

  Horns wailed, and a siren was called. As deep as we had descended the hunters shriek was loud as ever. From beneath my feet, worms escaped the ground, slithering at my boots, the inhumane shriek bringing them to the surface.

  It wouldn’t take long for the hunters to realize we weren’t topside and I worried what kind of timetable that put us on. We continued on until the dirt wall turned back into brick. We had made it to the tunnels and I swiped at it, feeling where it curved. Up ahead it was dark—the light had gone out.

  How would we make it through?

  George gazed at me. “I can’t believe you came. I can’t believe you did this for me. Abby, I will always be in your debt. Always.”

  He took my hands and kissed them. I felt the heat radiating off his face as he rubbed his cheek against my flesh and I reached up to kiss him. “I should be angry with you,” I admitted. “We were to be married and after what you did, everything you did…” Hot tears rose in my eyes and George’s eyes broke away from mine.

  “You can be a damn fool, George Tippin, but I love you.” I whispered the words again, feeling the love well deep in my heart until it might crack. We embraced; I clung to George and he clung to me.

  “Whatever the future brings, we do it together,” George said. “I don’t know what will lie ahead of us past the barrier, but it has to be better than this. It has to be better than death, Abby. We’ll find the rebels. We’ll join whatever cause they fight.”

  I hoped his words were as true as they sounded. Behind us stairs creaked and groaned. We had to keep moving. I tugged on his sleeve and George followed me down the tunnels. We had no way of knowing which way would bring us topside and which way would just lead us back to the hunters’ stronghold, but we had to try.

  We had to keep moving.

  It grew dark, so dark I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. No torches, no sunlight, what was it that I could do? There was one thing I could do, but that meant letting George in on my secret. It meant showing him my books.

  Was I ready?

  We were on the run, maybe forever, so maybe that meant our resolve and trust would be unparalleled. I reached into my bag and pulled out a book; it was heavier in my hands than it ever had before. “Just wait. Wait a second, and watch, okay?” My fingers trembled as I turned the pages. In the dark, my sense of smell heightened, and the musty pages and their scent brought something in me to life that hadn’t been there before.

  Comfort. An inner calm.

  One hand flat onto the page and my other hand cupped, heat transferred to the book and to me. I didn’t know why this book was so special, or if it was truly me, but a spark of fire appeared in my hand. It flickered bright enough for me to start to read a few paragraphs. Right before the fire faded, the book began to glow, and it lit up the tunnel.

  George wore a shocked expression. “You…read? You have books.” He raised his hand and pointed at me as though I was…well, I didn’t want to think about what it was he thought I was.

  Freak? Menace?

  “It’s my secret. I never wanted it to touch you. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s beautiful,” George whispered.

  “The story is something special,” I admitted. “The scarecrow is my favorite.”

  “Not that.” George shook his head. “You. Your face flushed with happiness and the radiant glow of your eyes. You’re gifted, aren’t you? Why did you hide this from me?”

  I took his hand and pulled him in close as the glow from the book began to dissipate. “I was afraid.” I bit my lip.

  George stroked my cheek. “Never be afraid of me. I would always keep this secret.”

  I smiled at him, realizing I had been a fool not to trust him. “Then this is what we’ll do and we’ll do it together. Save books. Reading to those who can’t read to themselves.” I swallowed hard, about to make a scary admission. “There’s so much we have to do, George. I was chosen for it. It’s my calling and it is my place. This is what I was meant to do. The hunters, the ministers, they must be stopped.”

  George’s hand wrapped around mine. “Then let’s do it and let us do it together.”

  His belief in me and what I could do strengthened me. We turned toward the tunnel and started down it, and when the light dimmed, I read again until we reached the end of the book.

  “This wicked witch sure did deserve what happened to her,” George said. “What is a witch anyway?”

  “Well,” I thought about it, “I haven’t read enough books to figure that out yet. But they describe her all in black with a black pointy hat. Plus, she has flying monkeys so maybe she works for the circus.”

  George shrugged. “I wish I could see a circus, or even a flying monkey.” He saw something that made him rush ahead.

  “What is it?” I called and ran out after him. I realized that my feet were getting wet. I glanced down at them and saw I stood in a puddle. Glancing up the same as George, I saw a storm drain.

  We were under the city streets. We’d found a way out.

  “I’m going to
go first, see what’s out there,” George said as he stretched up to grab the storm drain.

  “No, George. Let me.”

  He shook his head with a smile. “No, Abby. You have this gift, something special about you. I won’t let you do anything that puts that at risk. You came to save me, but I think it’s my job to keep you safe. Everything about this feels right.”

  I couldn’t argue with that kind of logic. I nodded and waited for George to report back. “We’re near the square I think in a back alley street. It’ll take some work, but I think we can get the storm drain off.”

  Good news. Together we wiggled and maneuvered the storm drain until it gave. Spinning it, I pushed it out through the hole and climbed up. Taking in our surroundings we were between two buildings with a clothes line between them. I snatched a black robe off and handed it to George when he climbed up from the storm drain.

  “Put that on,” I said and crept along the side of the building, and peered out into the vacant street.

  “Isn’t this stealing?”

  “Yes, but I technically stole you from the stockades sooo…. We have to get to the train station and if you are running around in plain sight, we’ll get noticed.”

  George opened his mouth to speak but the hunters’ screeching call interrupted. “Well, that answers that. Can you see them?”

  At first I couldn’t but I swept my eyes along the sky. I saw the hunters off in the distance and around by the ministers’ tower. A few moments later, one hunter swept down on patrol and George and I pulled into the alley, our backs flat against the brick. My heart pounded in my chest and I closed my eyes, feeling the wind pick up against my cheek.

  “It’s gone now, I think. It’s headed toward the other side of the town, but how can we get to the train station if they’re scouting? We can’t go out in the open.”

  That much was true. I pointed back toward the alley and the fence that separated it from the other buildings. “More fence hopping?” George’s eyebrows crinkled. “Now at least I know why you’re so good at it.”