The Library of Anukdun (Legend of the White Sword Book 5)

by P. D. Kalnay

  When possible we dropped anchor within fast-moving water for an extra layer of protection. Several times we were forced to run the pump at full power to crawl upstream through a set of rapids. Minus my magical motor, towing from the shore would’ve been necessary to get past those spots, and walkways along the base of the wall existed, presumably for that purpose. It was nice not having to use them. For all that time I dreaded reaching a spot with impassable rapids, or worse where a waterfall would force us to leave the boat behind.

  ***

  Ivy, Falan, and I had many short, quiet conversations over our weeks of sailing, and becoming better acquainted was an unavoidable consequence of living together in a small, open boat. That said, we didn’t have as much energy or opportunity for conversation as you might imagine. Within the Shattered Reaches one person had stayed on the lookout for rocks, and the constant vigilance was exhausting. The person not steering the boat usually rested while off-duty.

  Excepting the few times we sailed the open ocean we were always mindful of not making noise and drawing unwanted attention. That was especially true on the Dun where we feared rousing the same predators Ivy distracted with her abilities.

  As a result we’d learned about each other in small chunks, over an extended period, and, truth be told, I learned more of Falan than Ivy on our voyage. Ivy and I were introverted people who rarely offered personal information. We were also both grumpy people requiring frequent ‘alone time’, and our journey provided no such opportunities.

  The long silences weighted heaviest on Falan, who was—in contrast—easy-going, likeable, and chatty. When circumstances permitted, Falan could talk an ear off. He was also a genuinely nice guy, a fact Ivy confirmed with her sixth sense. By the time we’d sailed halfway to Anukdun, Falan was no longer just a companion on the quest, but had become our friend.

  Aside from sailing, most of what I learned from Falan concerned himself, his family, or his homeland.

  Falan had a surprising number of siblings, with four older sisters and five younger. As the only boy he was expected to carry his family name and take his father’s place in Danar clan business. Siblings were strange creatures that neither Ivy nor I had any experience with. Falan assured me they were highly overrated, but I sensed he was mostly joking.

  Falan’s mother and unmarried sisters managed the family business in Aspirel while Kalan Danar sailed in search of riches. Everything Falan’s family owned was a part of the greater Danar clan’s wealth. His eldest uncle led the clan, and in Valanse masculinity and seniority determined one’s rank. Falan’s uncle had five sons, who had sons of their own, meaning he would never rise above ship’s captain. Sharra would remain out of his reach unless he could change his fate, which was the largest part of why he now shared a boat with two misfit fae.

  He explained that it was possible to leave one’s clan and strike out alone, but as with fae, few bucked the system. Doing so meant abandoning the security of extended family, their connections, and even losing the family name.

  It was a risky and potentially lonely path.

  Valanse was less a country than a collection of city-states locked together with treaties and agreements. Falan told us of his home city of Aspirel, where thousands of generations had carved homes and businesses from the tall cliffs along the coast. Inland, dessert stretched to the Barrier Mountains, but Falan made the coastal cities sound vibrant, cosmopolitan, and fascinating. I hoped to someday visit them. I also hoped that Falan found his fortune, and that tying his fate to ours didn’t lead him to something worse.

  That ship had sailed: Falan, Ivy, and I rode in it.

  ***

  Following a morning of traversing the longest set of rapids yet, we heard the sound I’d been dreading. The thunder of a mighty waterfall met my ears before we rounded a final bend, and I saw it with my eyes. The Dun spread wide to form a round lake at the foot of three thousand feet of waterfall, and those falls spread in a shallow horseshoe shape, blocking the way forward. Our boat could travel no further—which was the bad news. The good news was that jutting out on an outcropping of stone in the middle of those falls stood the Great Library of Anukdun.

  The library was a towering castle-like structure made up of many disparate buildings built and merged together over time. Delicate-looking stone bridges once ran from either shore across the top of the falls to the library. All that remained of the bridge to the south were a few jagged footings, but the northern bridge looked intact.

  A lone island sat in the middle of the lake surrounded by mist from the falls. It was no more than a low shelf of rock with a few trees growing on it, but it was safe, and it wasn’t the boat. After circling the island to be sure it was empty, I leapt ashore and tied up.

  We’d arrived—more or less.

  Many hours remained until dark, but we stopped and made camp on the little island. The lake spread wide around us, providing a sense of security if little genuine protection from danger. Only the rumble of the falls—which necessitated loud talking—and the damp mist, diminished what was otherwise the nicest campsite we’d enjoyed in a long time. We strung a tarp between stunted trees to catch the endless dew and even lit a small fire. I cheated with my petrathen abilities to light the soggy wood since anybody on the shoreline could see us with or without the fire. After a rough round of washing up, we retired to our canvas shelter and enjoyed the drying warmth of the little blaze.

  It wasn’t cold out, but I gratefully sipped a mug of soup, anyway. I couldn’t remember our last hot meal.

  “That’s good,” I said, setting down the tin mug. “Now, we just have to climb up and get into the library.”

  “That may be easier said than done,” Falan said. “Most who seek admittance are refused entry. The town of Bookston exists largely because of that.”

  “I’ve never heard of Bookston,” Ivy said.

  “My father’s cousin told me of it. He said a walled town sits at the end of the north bridge. Up there.” Falan didn’t bother to rise or point with any accuracy. “He lived in Bookston for nine years.”

  “Why did he stay so long?” Ivy asked.

  “For the first years, he held out hope of becoming a scholar. There are schools in town that take hopefuls who fail to gain entry on the first try. The library admits few upon arrival and some spend a lifetime studying in Bookston. For the last years, he worked in a tavern, to save enough for the passage back to Sho. Failed scholars return with a caravan or die in Bookston. We’ve arrived between caravans, so I expect the town will be largely empty. Bookston swells with each caravan’s arrival.”

  “Why do they have a whole caravan just for a few guys who want to become scholars?” I asked. It seemed a long way to go.

  “For the gold.” Falan laughed. “Why else? The applicants are only a small part of what the caravans bring. They also bring supplies and foodstuffs for the library, scholars who have travelled and wish to return, new books and knowledge from other lands, and of course the inquirists.”

  “Inquirists?”

  Falan glanced at Ivy with a look I knew well. That look asked why Jack didn’t know something everybody knew. Ivy explained.

  “Inquirists are learned investigators folk hire to find an answer or the solution to a problem. It would be expensive to send one here to search for an answer.”

  “They usually wait until they have several commissions,” Falan said. “A group will sometimes pool their questions and send a single person, or so it was explained to me. There will also be official delegates in any caravan, with questions from one ruler or another. All need somewhere to stay while they await answers and the returning caravan. Bookston provides that, along with much of the ordinary food for the resident scholars, and housing for library servants. According to my father’s cousin, treasure hunters also use it as a base of operations.”

  “We’ll go check out the town in the morning,” I said, “on the way to the library. Let’s have one restful evening first.”

  Nobody
disagreed.

  ***

  I had the last watch of the night and was well rested when dawn arrived. First watch was the best, followed by last, and then the middle watch, which was worst because you only got two short sleeps instead of a single longer rest. After a few hours, the drone of the waterfall became normal background noise and talking louder came naturally. Despite the noise, I had to shake both of my companions awake for breakfast.

  We decided that Falan would wait with the boat and our gear. I had to go, and Ivy wasn’t about to trust me on my own or stay behind. We left our main weapons at the campsite too. My hammer was distinctive and the bow and shield unusual enough to draw unwanted notice. Our plan was to climb up to Bookston, make our way through town to the bridge, and gain access to the library. There was no point in making a more detailed plan until we discovered what obstacles we faced. I belted on the sword that had led to our shortened stay in Gaan, and Ivy had her bees if an emergency presented itself. I figured we were long overdue for some good luck.

  Falan took us to the north shore near the base of the falls where we found a goblin and a satyr fishing along a sandy strip of beach. Both men looked surprised to see us, but neither interrupted his fishing when we landed and disembarked downstream. When I asked the way to Bookston, the goblin pointed to a trail behind him that ran up into the jungle. He got a bite right after that, and we were forgotten. It was a nice change of pace, not getting much in the way of notice—and not having a stranger try to kill us.

  The trail up to town was steep, passing through a narrow gap at the base of the Watching Wall. A long, winding climb highlighted the difference between my general strength on Knight’s Haven and its diminished state, half a world away. The climb was only a fraction of the stairs leading to the sheared-off peak above Knight’s Haven, but felt much higher. I was sweaty and out of breath by the time we reached the small gate at the end of the path. A stone wall rose above us near the edge of the escarpment and a gate of iron bars blocked the way forward. Nobody was around so I tried the gate. It swung silently open.

  “Not much security, considering the things in the jungle,” I said.

  “This gate would be invisible to any who meant harm,” Ivy told me.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, we have crossed enchantments designed to draw away enemies and to turn back predators.”

  I’d noticed nothing, “I didn’t notice anything.”

  “You aren’t meant to,” Ivy said.

  I guessed that made sense. The gate opened on a narrow tunnel through the wall which led to an alley off the main street of the town. There was only the one street which led from the bridge to a more substantial and official looking gate that I later learned opened on the end of the caravan route.

  The town itself looked ancient and mostly empty. Neither hustle nor bustle existed in Bookston. Most buildings climbed four or five stories, with the lower levels being well-placed stone, and the upper levels a mix of poorer masonry and wooden construction. It looked as if the residents had decided that expansion would be in an upward direction since the alternative was expanding the outer walls. Bookston was damp and moss covered, thanks to the mist from the waterfall.

  No shop or tavern was open for business. Most denizens of Bookston kept late nights, either of the scholarly or the drunken sort, and we’d arrived at the quietest time of day. It didn’t matter. We weren’t there to see the town. I glanced at the signs as we strolled south. Half were drinking establishments, and the rest were general goods stores, schools, and book sellers. I tried to imagine a town made up of scholars and tomb raiders. None of the few people we passed resembled Indiana Jones or Laura Croft.

  An upper section of the Watching Wall bounded the southern side of the town along the river, and an open gate took us through the wall and out onto the bridge above the falling water. What appeared to be a delicate series of arches from the base of the falls was actually a heavy stone structure that supported a smooth road, wide enough for two wagons to pass. My petrathen senses told me that the stone of the bridge had been cut and placed longer ago than the ancient wall we’d just passed. When we reached the far side, and I sensed the relative youth of the library’s outer wall, making me wonder where the bridge originally led.

  We had more pressing questions.

  The library complex contained a mix of architectural styles from squat and heavy to light and airy. All were crafted from stone and metal, and each blended into the next as though the place had grown organically or had been home to different cultures over countless ages. From what I understood it was more the latter. If forced to sum up with a single word, I’d have gone with ‘big’. The Library of Anukdun deserved the moniker ‘Great’.

  It looked more like a city sized castle than a place of learning.

  The bridge widened at the south end before stopping at a high outer wall. The stone of the wall had no gaps or mortar and was what I now recognised as being of ‘imperial’ construction. A large gate and a smaller door stood before us, marking the only breaks in the shear wall. Both stood shut. I looked up at the double doors of the gate. Two enormous warrior statues, carved from a grey-green, slightly translucent stone flanked the gate. Each stood ten feet tall and held a spear and heavy rectangular shield. My petrathen instincts warned me that they weren’t ordinary statues.

  “Now what?” I asked Ivy.

  She shrugged, “Knock?”

  I knocked on the nearer door. My knuckles made the iron plate ring with a surprisingly loud boom. Nothing followed.

  “Now what?” I asked again.

  “We wait.”

  What else could we do?

  Chapter 26 – The Scholars’ Gate

  After waiting a good half hour, and knocking a few more times, the doors opened enough to reveal a petrathen woman. She wore long, flowing, and silver embroidered crimson robes that I later learned marked her as a Master of Anukdun. A scowl filled the pebbly grey face that examined and dismissed us with a glance, and her black hair was tied up in a careless bun. Like all petrathen, she was sturdily built though not as tall as me. Her dark eyes glared at us, and meeting another fae was as surprising as seeing the stone warriors raise their shields and lower their spears. The woman had the same friendly demeanour I’d come to expect from our people. Quickly, I outlined our desire to enter the library.

  “No admittance outside of the sanctioned times,” the woman said.

  She took a step back and the doors began closing again.

  “What do you mean, we can’t come in?” I shouted, taking a step towards the gate.

  Four glowing, green, and multifaceted eyes stared down at me, and a pair of spears, large enough to spit oxen, pointed my way. I stepped back.

  After all we’d been through to reach Anukdun, not being admitted hadn’t crossed my mind. I’d assumed that just getting there would be enough. The woman continued as though I hadn’t spoken.

  “You may apply for entrance next year on the Day of Application,” she said. There was a silent, ‘and that’s final’ tacked on the end of her pronouncement.

  “Where does that door lead?” Ivy asked.

  She pointed to the smaller, round door off to the right of the main gates. The smaller door had no handle or hinges.

  “Into the library, obviously. That is the Scholars’ Gate.” The woman’s tone said she was tired of wasting time talking to us. “If you don’t even know what it is, you won’t be able to enter through it.”

  “But if we can open it, we can come in?” I asked.

  “Only vested scholars of the library can open it. Does that describe either of you? The gate destroys any who fail in the attempt. You’d be wiser to wait. It is now only one hundred and seven days until the Day of Application. A school in the village might take you on for that time. Study is your only hope of admittance.”

  Her tone and smirk said she didn’t like our chances either way, which was annoying. She stepped back and the big doors shut with a boom. Short of re
turning to our campsite, grabbing my hammer, and fighting our way in, I was unsure what to do. It was an anticlimactic finish to a long and often miserable journey. The stony guardians returned to standing at frozen attention, but I didn’t doubt they would wake quickly enough if we tried anything funny.

  “Now what?” I asked Ivy.

  “Perhaps you should return with the Arath. Marielain Blackhammer was a respected scholar and enchanter. His name may gain you entry or special consideration.”

  “What did that woman’s aura tell you?”

  Ivy frowned.

  “That special consideration is unlikely, but we must do something. Should we spend the next months studying?”

  A few months’ time wasn’t long for us to wait, in the grand scheme of things, but we weren’t likely to become great scholars either. Deep down, I remained certain we had no extra time for waiting around. Why we were on a schedule remained a mystery. I wandered over to inspect the smaller gate.

  “Be careful,” Ivy said.

  “I’m just looking. If we can open this, it’ll make things a lot easier.”

  A short way back, the door looked like a smooth, round sheet of steel, but up close I saw it was inlaid with intricate golden symbols as fine as spiders’ webs. The symbols joined to make patterns, which formed larger, more complex patterns similar to the intersecting circles of Venn diagrams, which then fit together to form even more intricate, intertwined relationships with each other. The door was one big puzzle or lock, or possibly a magic puzzle-lock.

  Either way, it was awesome!

  “How cool is this?” I asked. “Do you think we just need to solve the puzzle to open it?”

  “What puzzle?” Ivy asked. She was giving me a strange look.

  “Well it’s obviously a sequential riddle or encryption, and if you put the pieces together and figure out the answers, it should open… I think.”

  “What are you talking about?”