The Phoenix Chronicles_Alone in the Light

by M. K. Williams

  Mesmerised, Kristian’s eyes widened. The memory of the Great Library was as nothing compared to revisiting it. The length of the room extended far beyond what he could see at the door, as he pondered how such a large room could exist within the headquarters complex.

  It was noisy as libraries go, and hundreds of people all dressed in grey suits darted around, some carrying books, some just talking to themselves. As Kristian crossed the threshold he felt a tingling sensation somewhat like the feeling he felt when he first entered the complex. As the feeling passed he turned on his heels to see that the doors had already silently closed behind him. Twisting back to face the library Kristian was surprised to see that nearly everybody had stopped what they had been doing and were now glaring at him. A split second later they had all returned to their previous tasks. All but one.

  An extremely tall, gaunt-looking man made his way towards Kristian.

  “Sorry about that. Not many Black Suits venture into the Great Library. I guess they worry too much about their own purity. Not you, though? This is not your first time. You’ve entered before, June 16th 2007? Am I right? Of course I am!”

  Kristian, startled by the speed and the words of the strange man’s speech, could do nothing but nod in agreement.

  “How can we help you today young sir?” his voice so very deep it almost broke into whisper.

  “I’m not sure. I’m looking for a book,” Kristian said being discreet as ever.

  “Well you have come to the right place,” he laughed as he swept his arm round the vast space.

  “Sorry, stupid answer. My name’s Kristian by the way.”

  “Yes I know. And I am Saresh.” The tall man paused and smiled at Kristian, “So this book, you have a title?”

  “Not exactly,” Kristian replied as he turned and tried to take in the library in all its glory. Aisle after aisle filled with row after row of books stretching up so high he could hardly believe the building extended so far. Spiral staircases were dotted all around. The task, suddenly, of him finding the book he sought seemed to be a mammoth one, to say the least.

  “Not exactly?” Saresh replied as he stared at the young man’s wide-eyed and open-mouthed expression of awe. “Well you know how to search?”

  “Search… there’s an order to this chaos!?”

  “Of course. A magical one. Just head for the desk, fill out a card and I am sure even a Black Suit can find the book he is looking for.”

  “Desk!?” Kristian said as he pivoted on his heels. To his amazement, a small desk which he had overlooked previously stood out of place; the desk had a huge stack of white cards teetering on top of it, behind the desk, practically hidden by the stack of cards, was a short plump woman almost engulfing the chair on which she perched.

  “Simply fill out the card and the rest will be done for you,” as Saresh spoke he gestured softly with his hand and tilted his head to signal goodbye.

  Kristian, pressed for time, paced purposefully towards the desk, not even returning the physical gesture of goodbye.

  Grabbing a card he glanced at the tiny writing, only three columns lay on the credit card-sized paper: Title, Author and Details. Scribbling in the details section Kristian wrote everything he remembered Zel telling him:

  - George Caparin / March 1919.

  Kristian stood back and glared at the card on the table he had just written on. The card without warning lifted into the air hovering in front of him at eye level. Floating there, the card began twisting as if it had a mind of its own, or contained a computer that had begun processing the minimal information. The card’s revolutions stopped abruptly and shortly afterwards the card darted off. Kristian gave chase as the card flew erratically through the air, weaving in and around busy librarians as they went about their business. It wasn’t that the card was travelling too fast that made it hard to keep up with, it was the route it was taking; Kristian had no idea how busy a workplace the library was.

  Turning a sharp corner, a large empty aisle stocked with thousands of books on both sides lay in front of him. The card had stopped a short distance ahead; it began to float upwards until it stopped a few metres high next to a small brown leather-strapped book. The book now began to move itself out from the shelf until it was hovering in the air. It opened as pages flipped over and the card slotted in and the book closed. Slowly it floated down until it rested in Kristian’s hands.

  Finding an empty desk Kristian sat down and opened the book at the page where the card had rested itself. Clipping the page and the front cover with his finger and thumb he glanced at the front cover – Diary: G. Caparin. 76.

  Returning to the marked-out section he began to read. The diary contained six references for the month of March 1919. It didn’t take him long to finish reading all of the passages for that month. Nothing from the texts leaped out, no words plagued his mind. He reread the passages several times but he could not help but think that it contained nothing important. It was just like most diaries, he thought; a description of mundane daily tasks written as if by any ordinary person.

  As Kristian read the text again he scribbled down words and lines that he hoped were important and contained deeper meaning.

  Serucio’s translation of Dwarf Word Magic / Brancrock / Wilson’s collection / Solasis Krull / his sister I believe is a member of the council / tempest / I lost corban’s key / Drancrock

  Looking at his list and then at his watch he was left feeling that he had wasted enough time on his very cryptic search. His list seemed so vague; nothing really jumped out at him, though he did feel a slight tingle to one reference, to a name he had found. There was no logic to his feeling; it was instinctual, from the gut. With that he underlined Solasis Krull on his notes.

  “Interesting,” a voice interrupted from over Kristian’s shoulder.

  Kristian was so engrossed in his work, the sudden interruption by Saresh startled him and Kristian merely responded by echoing the word. “Interesting!?” he spoke in such a tone that gave away his annoyance and surprise. What’s more, was Saresh spying on him?

  “Oh, I am sorry. I don’t mean to snoop,” Saresh responded to Kristian’s strained tone.

  “It’s okay. What’s interesting?”

  “That name. ‘Solasis Krull’. It’s an odd name. What are you reading?”

  “Just some diary,” Kristian said as he showed the front cover, “what’s so interesting about a name?”

  “Its structure is interesting. Looking at it, I would say it wasn’t man-made. It looks ‘Ancient’, ‘Elvish’ perhaps. Maybe even ‘Traveller’,” Saresh said as he pondered out loud.

  “It looks what? What do you mean? It just looks like a name to me,” Kristian replied.

  “Ha! Such a young mind. A name is more than just a scribe, more than just a series of symbols or letters you know. It can hold a wonder of secrets.” Tilting his head and repeating the name in a whisper, Saresh’s eyes focused intently, “No, no, no. Not an Ancient’s name. Though I would imagine it’s written in lower Ancient.”

  Kristian stood glaring at the strange, intrusive librarian. He didn’t understand what he was being told, but listened. It sounded odd, it sounded important.

  “Lower Ancient? Ancient?” Kristian asked.

  “You know about the Ancients? You can at least name one? Surely!”

  Kristian had heard about them previously, about beings of great power. But the way it was explained to him, even in the world in which he lived, it all sounded too mythical. “Well, there’s Gaia.”

  “Well, I’m glad you know that. Mother of the Phoenixes, protector of Earth. There are many more than just her, and the language they spoke is referred to as Ancient. Our interpretation, our literal translation of it is called Lower Ancient.”

  “There’s a difference?” Kristian asked, his tone slightly sarcastic.

  “Well, to read Ancient you need to be Ancient or very gifted. It’s written like Lower Ancient, but the words, the structure of the sentences, contain mo
re meaning. Meaning that can only be understood by seeing the underprint,” Saresh said with a smile on his face; he always enjoyed passing on his knowledge.

  “Okay – I’m so confused. Underprint?” Kristian asked.

  “You really don’t know? Well, I’ve said it before and I shall say it again. Those who work in the field need more than just combat training! You should be forced to pick up a book!” Saresh said as he now stepped back and glared at the young man! “The underprint is hard to describe. Never experiencing it we only have written testimonies to go by. It is like a psychic or magical imprint that is left on a word. Take the word ‘Crankel’; in Lower Ancient, the translation is mountain. But written and read in original Ancient it could mean something more specific. Like the name of a mountain, a view from it, it could even leave the reader seeing the mountain in his or her mind’s eye. It could be as wondrous as a feeling or an emotion! See, it could change the meaning of a text. It’s easily said that we have had more than difficulty translating anything written in Ancient.”

  Kristian stood there thinking about what he had heard. He understood it, or at least he thought he did.

  “So there could be more meaning to this name? This Solasis Krull?” Kristian asked.

  “Yes if written and read in its original form. Names in Ancient are most interesting. Like word-magic itself a name can project power over its owner. Hence some names are well-guarded secrets by their owners.”

  “Cool,” Kristian said; he was impressed with what Saresh was saying. He knew then he would have to look further into this ‘Solasis Krull’, he could feel in his bones that it was important.

  Glancing down at his watch it instantly dawned on him that he had let time escape from him. He had a train to catch; his investigation into this mysterious name would have to wait. There was a more important mission at hand – justice for Oliver.

  “I’m sorry. I have to go. Thanks for your help. It’s truly been helpful,” Kristian moved away and began to pace back towards the entrance.

  “No worries, young man,” Saresh called after him. As the boy disappeared from view, Saresh turned back to the table and to the diary that was left there.

  “Interesting, very interesting,” he muttered to himself, “Solasis Krull – I wonder,” he picked up the book and turned on the spot with a very inquisitive and thoughtful expression on his face.

  …

  It had been nearly twenty-four hours since he had had the discussion with his companions, since Kristian had found out about the death of Tanya.

  Many things had happened in those hours: his visit to the Great Library, his discussion with Saresh, the long non-direct train journey to Berlin, the awakening of Tanya as a vampire and the early morning phone call from an enraged Jonathon, threatening to send Rachel to bring him back.

  It was after midday when Kristian finally got out of bed; the room he had slept in was cold and damp, not unlike the rest of the rooms in the youth hostel he was staying in. He wasn’t overly concerned by the conditions of the hostel but was more surprised about the fact that it was owned by the Order.

  The Order owned a lot of property in over a hundred countries and the few he had visited were in no way as bad as this.

  Putting his clothes and watch on, he glanced at the time and was annoyed at how late it was! He had arrived in Berlin in the early hours of the morning and had spent his first two hours searching for the hostel which had been walking distance from the station, but he had got lost on the dark streets of the capital!

  Grabbing his rucksack from the floor, he pulled open his mission file and began to look through it. Examining the photos and maps of marked locations on the Berlin landscape he wondered which he should visit first. There were so many locations to investigate, lots of people to question. Due to the lack of factual information that Oliver had failed to gather prior to his death, little if nothing was known about the events leading up to it.

  Throwing the pictures on the floor, he began to feel side-tracked as his belly roared with hunger. Leaving the hostel, Kristian began to walk down a long street on his quest for food. The buildings around him were so different from the ones back home. They were smaller than those in London and yet they didn’t feel foreign to him. Couples kept passing him on the street, their conversations clear and audible. Kristian stared at them, it was strange. He had never been to Germany before but he could understand everything the people were saying; he knew why he could comprehend a language he had never spent time learning, but the experience for him was very strange. He continued to think about how amazing and bizarre it was until his belly let out another great rumble of hunger. Remembering that he was on the hunt for food he turned and noticed a bakery a few shops down. Walking in he began to greet everyone in the shop, the customers and staff, all in word-perfect German. After a long ten-minute conversation with the counter assistant, Kristian left the store with a large handful of pastries. Standing outside the shop, he began to gorge himself on the delicious treats he had just purchased. People continued to pass by and he was still able to understand them perfectly; he thanked Sam aloud for implanting the language in his subconscious. Sam’s physic ability that allowed him to enter people’s minds also allowed him to implant information into one’s subconscious as well. The technique of transferring knowledge and skills into people’s psyche had been used by the Order for many years, but never had anyone been better at it than Sam!

  Walking back to the hostel, Kristian had eaten four of the pastries he had been carrying and on entering reception he placed the remainder of them on a large table. Heading back up to his room, it wasn’t long before he was once again flicking through his mission file. Placing the locations in order, one behind the other, he carefully planned out the week ahead. Lingering over some of the photographs, he could almost picture Oliver in them. His imaginings quickly disappeared by the ringing of his phone. Stretching over to answer it he saw that it was Jonathon calling yet again. He knew what the conversation would entail. It would be Jonathon agreeing to disagree about Kristian disobeying orders and that he was going to accept the idea that he was going it alone as long as Kristian agreed to use support from the Munich office if he needed. He would also give some kind of empty threat to Kristian about what would happen to him if he ever tried to pull off a stunt like this again.

  The phone call proceeded exactly as he predicted it would, even the empty threat was present, which Kristian had quietly sniggered at. When it was over, he stood looking down on his bed at the mass of photos and notes he had spread out on it. He began to question if he had been right to go it alone after all. He looked around his room and the dark and dank decor was a real indication of exactly how he felt.

  …

  One week after Kristian’s departure, in the most prestigious casting room of the Order, Andrew was standing in the centre; kneeling a metre in front of him was Kieran, his head bowed towards the floor. Behind him, about five metres away stood Roman, his eyes closed and his palms together. All three of them were wearing long white overalls, just like those Andrew always wore.

  Kieran was concentrating hard, trying only to think of the ritual ahead. He had been so young when he had first heard of the Trinity. It wasn’t long before that he had been told that the things that were happening to him were caused by magic. Ever since that day, he had fantasised about being in the Trinity, and now that honour was being bestowed upon him, he was filled with joy, pride and trepidation.

  Andrew began to chant softly the ancient scriptures, “El es undo moni,” over and over again. His chanting lasted three minutes and then silence fell on the room. Kieran opened his eyes to be greeted by Andrew who was emitting a blinding light. Rising to his feet, Kieran kept eye contact. He had imagined this experience to be overwhelming and the image in front of him was truly awe-inspiring.

  “The ritual is bound by words, the noblest of magic’s. You must be open and willing to receive your third. Do you promise to wield this magic to aid those who are
fearful, to protect those who are innocent and to stand by those who are brave? Will you honour the lore of the Trinity?” Andrew’s voice quietly echoed through the room, his face the only part of his body that was visible through the light.

  “I will always aid, protect and stand by. The name of the Trinity shall be my own, I will honour it with my life, and may my death be a tribute to all those who bore the gift before.” Kieran spoke slowly to avoid making any mistakes; he had spent hours practising those words but was still worried about messing up. As he finished his reply, he closed his eyes and began to empty his mind of words and imbued his heart with the will to accept.

  “El sueot, fal ma, geu,” Andrew intoned. Light began to leave Andrew and floated through the air like a weightless fog. Wrapping itself around Kieran, it resembled a snake wrapping itself around its prey. Andrew began to look faint, he began to sway on his feet, and his face looked pale and drained.

  “I accept this gift. El sueot,” Kieran said, his voice high and jubilant.

  Roman took three steps towards Kieran, his palms still locked together. He spoke “El es undo moni,” as a veil of light spewed from within him and surrounded him like thick mist.

  “Fal ma, contu,” Roman spoke again and as he did, the light shot quickly from around him and latched onto the light engulfing Kieran. The two lights coalesced into a powerful vortex swirling around Kieran. Roman now looked as white and drained as Andrew.