Journeyman: The Force of the Gods: Part I

by Tuson, Mark

  ‘That’s strange,’ said Eddie. He scratched his chin contemplatively. ‘And the tomb, what do you know about that?’

  Wait. ‘I didn’t mention the tomb.’

  ‘I know you didn’t. But Eric told me that you’d found it, and that she seemed to think it was important.’

  ‘She certainly did that.’ Peter nodded and then closed his eyes, letting his head roll backwards as he sat fully in his seat, rather than just on the edge. It wasn’t appropriate, he supposed, given that this was a meeting and not a friendly visit. Not that he cared much about that any more.

  ‘She seemed quite badly frightened actually,’ he continued.

  Eddie stood up and stepped toward the door. ‘I’m not at all surprised, to be honest.’ He opened the door and stood aside, holding it open. ‘And if you follow me...’ he paused, breathing slowly, as though he was fighting some deep internal protocol ‘... I’ll explain why.’

  Peter hesitated, wondering where Eddie might be thinking of taking him. This whole situation wasn’t playing out anything like how he had been expecting it to, especially given Eddie and Eric, and probably more people besides who hadn’t said anything, knew that he had been wandering around the place, taking interest in things that he had assumed would be formally and officially None Of His Business. And yet it was turning out, now they knew, that he hadn’t done anything really wrong.

  They walked, and before long it dawned on Peter that they weren’t in a part of the Guild he recognised. Hic sunt dracones, he thought.

  It was a long, straight corridor, which in itself was interesting and new; with the Guild itself being a round structure, all the corridors were curved. This corridor was straight, which meant it was jutting off-site at a tangent.

  A few times, for only a few moments at a time, Peter had fleeting sensations akin to the feeling of being underwater.

  Walking, he and Eddie both in silence, reminded Peter of when he had been led around the Guild in the first few days following his joining. It reminded him of his much he must still have to learn about everything that happened in the place.

  They came to a door, right at the end of the corridor, which was different to all the others he had seen in that it was made from a shiny black metal: most of the others were made from wood. Eddie took a key from his pocket, which appeared to be made from the same metal as the door itself.

  ‘Iron,’ said Eddie. He must have noticed Peter looking curious. ‘The whole room’s lined with it. You’ll see why.’ At this, he unlocked the door and led Peter through.

  The room wasn’t large, maybe equal in size to the average living room. There was a table in the exact centre, with an old oil lantern set upon it, and each of the walls was covered in bookshelves, except the area where the door was.

  ‘I don’t get it,’ said Peter. ‘A secret library…?’

  ‘Exactly. The corridor’s enchanted at a number of points to deter people who have no business here, and the whole area is earthed, and away from the rest of the Guild. This library’s got countless generations’ worth of magical defences around it. It could withstand the magical equivalent of a hydrogen bomb. Probably the real thing, too.’

  The magical equivalent of a hydrogen bomb. That was something Peter never imagined hearing. What could even warrant the use of such a weapon? But, more immediately…

  ‘What kind of books are there in here? What’s so… so precious… as to need that level of protection?’ There really wasn’t any way to ask that question without sounding profoundly thick.

  In response, Eddie stepped fully into the room and closed the door. Peter looked in the direction of the door and noticed that just to the right of it, the books weren’t books. Eddie reached up, standing on tiptoe, and pulled down the very first volume, and placed it on the table.

  It was a bundle of maybe ten leaves of what looked like thinly sliced wood, loosely tied together with fine leather thongs, all black with age. There were carvings on it, which bore a vague resemblance to the some of the more recognizable writing on the tomb under the monastery. He picked it up and looked closely at it. It was clearly so old that he held it incredibly carefully, and he held it so carefully and reverentially that it felt like it weighed a ton.

  He squinted closely at it, and noticed that there were even darker spots across the first leaf, in a pattern that looked like something had been splattered across it. Bloody hell. He put it back on the table.

  ‘What is all this? And… why are you showing it to me?’

  Eddie lifted the codex again and held it for a moment: this artefact really meant something. He shelved it again. ‘History. Accounts of the Guild’s history, going back… well, not to the beginning, but to the beginning of when members of the Guild could write.’ He spoke softly, still looking at the bookshelf. ‘The book you were just holding was written seven thousand years ago, on leaves of beech. Or so I’ve read in other books… there aren’t many people anywhere who can read that. There’s a book one of the old Stewards wrote about how to read it, but that was very long ago.

  ‘Which leads me to something else.’ Eddie turned round and looked Peter dead in the eye. ‘Nobody knows about this library. It’s considered by Guild law to be the personal property of the Steward, and to be revealed to nobody, ever, under any circumstances, unless by the Steward himself. You’re here by my invitation.’

  A secret history. Peter looked a little further along, noticing some uniform-looking volumes. There were no titles on them, other than what he assumed must be years, written in lowercase Roman numerals. One volume in particular was nearly six inches thick, and bore what looked like a year on its spine: cmxxxvii. Suddenly he was itching to examine it.

  He brought his mind back to what Eddie had just said. The library was effectively an official secret of the Guild, into which Peter was being let, so to speak. Why? Why would he be trusting him with something which, clearly, was so valuable?

  ‘You ask why I’m showing it to you.’ Eddie must have seen the book Peter had just been glancing at; he stepped to it and lifted it down. ‘Well, you want to know. Of course, that’s not quite reason enough in itself to warrant me showing you one of the greatest and oldest secrets of the Guild. But you’ve also shown that you know things that they don’t want you to know. Things that scare them. If they’re scared of what you’re learning, that means you’ve obviously stumbled across something – or the beginning of something – that’s dangerous to them.

  ‘Which means that, simply enough, you’re capable of damaging them in a way that would either set them back a very long way, or else prevent them from ever posing a threat to us again. And of course, that’s what we want.’ He tapped the book with his finger. ‘It’s curious that you’d be interested by this one.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘This book describes the foundation of England as a single country, and one of the greatest victories for the Guild. It’s our own record of the Battle of Brunanburh. Pathete records are poetic and unreliable; they don’t offer anything in the way of relevant historical detail other than the names of the kings involved.’

  He opened the book to the first page. Peter noticed it was written in Latin, in a tiny hand which, when Peter thought about that, combined with the thickness of the volume, must have meant the book itself would have taken many months – if not years – to write.

  Of course, Peter hadn’t ever heard of any Battle of Brunanburh. He supposed it must be one of those battles that wasn’t taught about in schools or really discussed at all.

  ‘What battle was that?’ He asked.

  ‘Pathete history describes it as a magnificent fight between the English and the Vikings, in which Æthelstan – the grandson of Alfred the Great of Wessex – completed the unification of the Seven Kingdoms: East Anglia, Mercia, Northumbria, Wessex, Essex, Kent, and Sussex. Together for the first time, under the rule of Æthelstan, the newly-formed Kingdom of England destroyed the invading Vikings, and secured the English a reputation that has survi
ved for well over a thousand years; one of a strong, powerful nation that won’t go down easily.

  ‘What our own record says, however, is that when the Viking forces attempted their invasion, they were assisted in force by a small band of Werosaian warlords. These warlords used magic in their attempts to secure a Viking victory, in exchange for authority in the land once the victory had occurred.

  ‘But we – the Guild – were fighting on the defensive as part of Æthelstan’s army. We ensured that England wouldn’t fall, and after the battle was over we captured and interrogated one of the Werosaians. He informed us that the plan had been to overthrow the Vikings and relocate Werosain, along with the Fraud himself, into England.’

  Shit. That was pretty serious, if a bit of a blast-transmission, thought Peter. But then, it showed that obviously Eddie must have read some of these books, at least. It sounded interesting though, and Peter was excited to learn as much as he could here, even if that meant learning all the requisite languages and reading the entire library.

  Eddie shelved the book again and opened the door, signalling Peter to exit first. Once again, in silence, the two of them walked together back to Eddie’s office, whereupon the two of them sat down. Eddie steepled his fingers and looked through them at Peter.

  ‘So,’ he said. ‘Why. Because you are looking for information that could be dangerous to them, like I said. If you have that information, then you are dangerous to them. Which follows that you’d be a great strength and an asset to us.’ He took the iron key from his pocket and held it in the air. ‘I have another of these.’ He handed it to Peter.

  ‘I’m allowed in the library on my own?’ Peter held the key flat in his open hand. It was very heavy, which gave a sensation that they key itself contained the secrets that its partner lock protected.

  ‘Slightly more than that,’ Eddie said, purposefully. ‘I think that’s what suits you best, so I’d like you to dedicate yourself – at least for the foreseeable – to studying in the library, and learning whatever you can. You’ll be excused from field work, I’ll let it be known among them all that you’re doing other things. But you aren’t to mention to anybody what you’re doing in there, or that there’s a library at all. Only the Steward knows about that, and the few people who the Steward chooses to entrust it to.’

  Eddie made it all sound grave enough that Peter wondered whether telling people about the secret library was a freedom which any Steward had taken advantage of before.

  ‘Of course,’ he said. He slipped the heavy, ancient key into his trouser pocket. There must have been more to the writings that were in there than simply history, he thought, or else there wouldn’t have been the need for such a fantastic level of protection on the place. Some high magic, he supposed, some dreadfully powerful spells which could wreak total chaos in the wrong hands.

  ‘There’s just one other thing.’ Eddie looked suddenly urgent. ‘You mustn’t take any of those books out of the library. Not for any reason, under any circumstances. That clear?’

  Peter nodded gravely. Of course it wouldn’t be right to take any of those books out of the library, not given how much protection had been provided for them: the room was a dressed-up walk-in safe. That’s some serious shit, right there. ‘I’m surprised you trust me with whatever knowledge is in there,’ he said.

  Eddie laughed a little, and then spoke slowly, delicately. ‘Unfortunately, in the Guild, we have to see where we can use people to our advantage. Sort of like teamwork, only more… cold. That’s just one of those things; you’ve shown you could be very dangerous to the Werosaians, so you could be useful to us. Not us as a community, or a country, but to our entire world. Basically, I can’t lie: we’re all playing pieces in this game. You could be a really good piece, but I need to make sure you meet your potential. It’s as simple as that.’

  It was a testament, Peter would think later, to how much he had grown as a person in the last five or so years, that being described as a playing piece in some game didn’t make him crawl up the wall in self-pity and rage. He knew there were things at play which were far greater than him. He looked, maybe a little wistfully, at how life had been simpler – in its way – before he had become a magician, but now he was, he had a purpose. Maybe he could play his part to ensure that the world wasn’t going to be the dangerous place it might be if the Fraud had his way.

  He had to admit, it was a little upsetting to him, when he thought about some of the emotions he had experienced upon following the woman’s mind-reading spell back into her own mind; even though she hadn’t been there herself at all, she had seen through the eyes of the person who had enthralled her that Werosain wasn’t, in and of itself, a dangerous place. It was merely lacking in the things that made it safe and good. He wished he could help. But he couldn’t, and whether their motivations were noble or ignoble, they had been posing a danger to Earth for around twenty thousand years.

  ‘I understand that,’ Peter said. ‘Each man must fret his hour, and all that.’

  ‘Exactly. We all have to do what little we can, even if it’s only to preserve the status quo.’

  The very best they could expect, Peter supposed, would be just that: preserving the status quo. If they could maintain their side of the struggle just well enough to be able to struggle the next day, they could keep collective death from their collective door. It was a bleak prospect and a bleak perspective. But it was in the nature of existence to be bleak; Peter had learned that long before he had become a magician.

  He stood up to leave, but as he did he remembered the other thing that was bothering him, and now Eddie had trusted Peter with knowledge of – and unrestricted access to – the Guild’s secret library, it seemed appropriate to ask about it.

  ‘There were some notebooks in my satchel, when we were attacked. My personal research based on what little I’d seen of the tomb, and some research I’d done on the Internet about ancient languages. Do you know what happened to them?’

  Eddie raised his eyebrow at the word “Internet.” Not as though he didn’t approve; he simply didn’t appear to recognize the term. He leaned his head to one side. ‘Eric took them out and looked through them. I’ve got them here.’ He turned in his seat and produced the books. ‘I’ve looked through them as well. That’s what brought me to take the decision to give you access to the library. If you can make the progress you’ve made on your own, you’ll make a hell of a lot more if you have some useful resources at your disposal.’

  He handed the books to Peter. ‘Don’t carry them about your person when you’re out, that’s all I’ll say. You don’t need to keep them in the library, but I’d take them back to your own room right now and not take them out, unless you’re taking them to the library to use in your work.’

  Peter accepted them and held them tight, hugging them to his chest. He nodded gratefully. ‘Thank you. I will.’

  Eddie nodded once, and signalled to Peter to go; not so much a dismissal as an acknowledgement that he knew Peter wanted to leave, and was free to. Peter left, and made straight for his room, whereupon he stashed the notebooks in his satchel again and sat on the bed. He flopped back, staring at the ceiling.

  He burst out laughing. All of a sudden it seemed hilarious beyond reason that he should be in this position: first he had been rescued from the Werosaian who had tried to kill him, and invited to join an ancient magical society and learn magic himself, and now he was a custodian of what could well be the oldest library in the world. Just like that. It was like a dream or a fantasy land. It made no sense.

  Later on, he decided to go for a walk around the outdoor grounds. He had been away for three months, and though a lot had happened since he had got back, he had still only been back at the place he now considered home for around fifteen hours. He wanted to see the grounds again, and breathe in the fresh outdoor air.

  Outside was a different place here to what it had been in and around Blackpool, which he never seemed to have noticed before. In Blackpool th
ere was always wind and cars and seagulls, where here there was only a constant low level of rustling of the sparse leaves in the trees all around, as the gentle breezes fluttered through them. Without looking for it, he found the hazel tree he had taken his wand from all that time ago, and sat on the ground under it, with his legs crossed.

  The light falling on him was the cool light of the start of spring. What warmth there was around was in the ground, building up in that secret world in the soil, preparing to push shoots and leaves and other living green things out of itself. That, he realized, was what life was all about now that he was a member of the Guild. That was the secret; the world is alive, and one’s place as a part of the world is to be alive with it, in partnership. Symbiosis, he supposed would be a better word for it. There hadn’t been any of that in Blackpool, where pathetes and their mundane and shallow values, artefacts, and devices reigned supreme. He felt sorry for them. Sorry that most of them wouldn’t ever experience life as it was meant to be experienced.

  Things are made important by the importance that is ascribed to them, he thought. The tomb and the writing on it, those hadn’t been so important to him as they had been a collection of curiosities to be satisfied; that was how it worked. But they had become important – important in the extreme – all of a sudden, because the Werosaians thought it was important. And there was the secret library, which contained books important enough to warrant being buried in the magical equivalent of a thermonuclear bunker. The Guild must have come to think it was that important for some reason, whether it was paranoia or a genuine, proven need to implement that protection.

  He sighed and stood up again; the surface of the ground was cool and damp, and slightly less pleasant to sit on than he had realized. He strolled around for a while longer before returning to the monastery for something to eat, and let his mind wander and eventually go blank for a while. Whatever there was in the library that was that important, simply was. There wasn’t much point, right now, in trying to divine whatever reason it would have for being so.