The Library: The Complete Series (All 8 Books) (2013)

by Amy Cross

  "They'll never be happy," Gum says, "and I doubt they'll ever truly be sated, but they'll retreat to their own world, and I doubt anyone else will ever hear from them again. They're superstitious creatures these days, and they've changed a lot over the few hundred years since you were last at the Library. Even though just a year or so has passed in this world, the Library's time stream is very different." She pauses for a moment. "The Forbidders know what they want, and they have great plans for you. Claire, are you ready to come with me now?"

  I nod.

  "I should warn you," she continues, "that if you try to escape, or to trick us in any way, we'll destroy you, and then the Forbidders will come and ruin this world in order to punish you. They'll rip everything apart, and they'll make you watch. Is that understood?"

  "Yes," I say quietly.

  "You seem very subdued," she says. "It's a good feeling, is it not, to finally accept one's destiny?"

  I smile weakly.

  "All creatures fight their destiny at first," she continues. "They want to break free, to prove themselves. Some do this by denying the very concept of destiny, even though they know at the back of their minds that it's all true. To embrace that destiny, and to seize the day, is a brave act indeed, Claire. The fact that you're scared shouldn't seem like a reason to turn back. It should propel you forward. It should encourage you to go on in all your beliefs, and to allow the universe to welcome you into its embrace."

  Taking a deep breath, I try to focus on the fact that I'm doing the right thing. Not the easy thing or the safe thing or the best thing, but the right thing. I'm doing the thing that's going to save lives.

  "There's no need to be afraid of me," Gum adds. "I'm just here to help. If it hadn't been for my interference, the Forbidders would have ripped this world apart as they searched for you. As you might have noticed, they've not very keen on conversations. Fortunately, I was able to intervene and persuade them to try a more subtle approach."

  "This is the subtle approach?" I ask.

  "It is by their standards," she replies. "Believe me, other worlds have suffered a great deal more damage."

  "Thanks," I reply bitterly.

  "Is it the head?" she continues, reaching up and running her fingers over Haley's dead features. "Is that what's making you so uncomfortable? This was a friend of yours, was it not? Does it concern you that I've appropriated her body parts in order to augment my own?" She pauses for a moment. "As a sign of good faith, I'll do my best to find another head as soon as we're back in the Library. Even though I rather like this one, and even though I'm sure I could make it last a few hundred years, I'll dispose of it as soon as possible. Does that make you feel better?"

  "Not really," I say darkly. She's right, though. The fact that this creature has appropriated Sam's head is freaking me out. I'm pretty sure I'm in shock right now, but eventually that's going to wear off and... Well, I'm not quite sure what would happen at that point. There's definitely a part of me that wants to get this whole thing over with first. At least once I'm a book, I won't have to worry about emotions such as shock and sadness and sorrow. Those things will be in the past.

  She frowns. "I do not understand your emotions. I thought you'd be happy if I get a new head."

  "Let's get it over with," I reply.

  "Follow me," she says, leading me back through toward Thomas J. Sharpe's office. "I can assure you, it won't hurt. The Forbidders are going to worship you. As far as they're concerned, you're the most sacred object in all of the seven worlds. They're going to venerate you and worship you. In some ways, it's going to be quite a privilege, although I suppose it might be a little boring. I'm not sure it's something I'd particularly enjoy."

  As we reach the door, I suddenly realize that I'm going to be saying goodbye to my whole life. My parents, my friends, my plans and ambitions. Still, there's a voice at the back of my mind that keeps telling me that this is going to be okay. It's almost as if, on a subconscious level, I know I don't really belong here. I wish I understood everything that's happening, and I can't shake the feeling that there's a hole in my memory. I guess the most important thing is that the world is going to survive. I've always led a fairly boring life, at least as far as I can remember, so it's weird to think that I'm going to save the world.

  "Will I die?" I ask, as Gum reaches out to open the door to Sharpe's office.

  "No," she replies. "You'll revert to your original form. You'll become a book again. Your life will be different, but you'll still exist. I'm afraid I don't know exactly what it'll be like. As far as I know, it's a change that I don't think anyone else has ever endured. But you were a book once before, for many thousands of years in the Library. This period as a human is really just a blink of an eye."

  "It feels like so much more," I tell her.

  "The illusion is complete," she says, "but it is an illusion nonetheless. It was part of the plan all along, and it was a plan that you helped to devise."

  I take a deep breath, getting ready for the journey. There's still a part of me that thinks, and hopes, that this is all part of a dream, or some kind of psychotic meltdown. Deep down, however, Gum's words ring true and resonate with the feeling of discomfort I've always felt. Even when I was a little kid, I never quite believed that I was able to fit in with my friends and family. I felt remote and separate, as if my life should somehow be different. Now, if Gum is to be believed, I know the reason: I'm a book. In fact, I'm the first book, and I'm about to retake my original form. Goodbye arms. Goodbye legs. Hello pages.

  "After you," Gum says, pushing the door all the way open.

  "And you promise the world will be saved?" I continue, feeling as if the words sound pretty ridiculous even as they leave my mouth. "This world will never, ever be troubled by the Forbidders again?"

  "The Forbidders have no interest in this place, other than their desire to get hold of you. Once you're back at the Library, they'll simply transform you to your original state and then they'll take you back to their world." She takes my hand and smiles. "This is your destiny, Claire. It's what you were born to do, and it's the only way you can prevent more destruction. You're too late to save the Library, but the human world can survive."

  "Then I guess I've got no choice," I reply, taking a deep breath before stepping into Sharpe's office. For a moment, it seems as if nothing is going to happen. Finally, I hear Gum closing the door behind me; when I turn, I suddenly find that everything has changed and I'm standing in a dark, wide-open clearing under a brooding sky. All around, there are wrecked and destroyed library shelves, spreading as far as the horizon, while in the distance there's what appears to be a ruined citadel. After a moment, the fog lifts from my memory and I remember everything. Vanguard. Sharpe. The Library. The Grandapams. All of them.

  "Welcome home," Gum says.

  "What happened?" I ask, staring at the devastation. "It's all gone. It's all been destroyed."

  "As I told you before," she continues, "the Forbidders were angry with you for not surrendering to them earlier. They took their rage and set it loose on this place."

  "This is my fault?" I reply, shocked at the thought that I could have saved this place.

  "You mustn't blame yourself, Claire. You've already saved one world today. The Library, on the other hand, is beyond salvation. Everything is dead here, barring a few survivors who still scramble through the dirt. Nothing more can grow in this world. Even the light is dimming."

  "This didn't have to happen," I say quietly, remembering the Library as it was when I first came here. There was life, and although the war was already raging, there was a sense that the place had a future. Now it's just a charred, ruined landscape. I can't even begin to understand how many people must have died here, but the ground beneath my feet is soggy with blood, and there are piles of bodies in the distance. In fact, I think I can even smell the blood in the air.

  "Turn around," Gum says, as I feel the ground start to shake. "It's time to face your new masters."


  Vanguard

  "It's starting," Reith says as we return to my graveside. "In the distance."

  Staring down at the dark pit, I realize that it'll soon be time for me to take my place beneath the soil. When I was a child, I dreamed of growing up to be a great warrior, and I was certain that when I eventually died, it would be in a huge battle. I believed that men would erect statues in my honor, and that my name would be spoken for all eternity. Such childish dreams have ultimately withered, however, and now all that is left is the simple job of tidying myself away. At least I will provide some sustenance to the worms that make this soil their home. They are the only winners in this situation, for they gain a rich new subterranean kingdom. I hope they do not waste it and allow it to be destroyed. I hope that, in their way, they are smarter than we have been.

  "I never thought I'd see this day," Reith continues. "The entire Library, ripped apart with such ferocity that one might almost question whether it was ever here at all."

  Turning, I see that a great churning chasm has opened in the sky a few miles away. It's as if the clouds themselves have been whipped up into a furious storm. This can only mean one thing: the Forbidders are preparing to depart from this world and return to their own, which in turn means that...

  "Claire," I say quietly.

  "She must have returned," Reith continues. "She must have willingly come back to the Library so that she can sacrifice herself." He turns to me. "Do you think she would do such a thing? Is she really so selfless and brave?"

  "Yes," I say after a moment. "I believe she is."

  "Then why didn't she do it sooner?" he asks. "She could have spared us all so much agony?"

  "Don't blame her," I reply. "Blame those of us who tried to help her. Blame the Forbidders, who tore this world apart and burned its ruins."

  "I suppose there's no point discussing blame," he says, sounding as if he's resigned to our fate. "Our world is dead. It matters not who caused it, or how it happened, or whether it might have been prevented. The Library is gone."

  I take a deep breath, realizing that he must be right. When I sent Claire back to her own world all those years ago, I was convinced that I had a chance to turn the tide against the Forbidders and force them back. Foolishly, I still believed that I could use sheer strength to fight them, and I thought that perhaps I alone could take them on. I failed, and the creatures moved on to attack Claire's world. I have no idea how much damage they might have caused, but it has evidently been enough to change her mind.

  "Do not interfere," Reith says, placing a hand on my shoulder. "The Library is dead now, so what does it matter? Let her give her life, so that other worlds do not suffer as we have suffered." He pauses for a moment. "She must be scared, though. She has only a human body at the moment. I hope for her sake that she will be swiftly returned to her former state as a book. At least that way, she will be afforded some protection."

  "Do you truly believe that to be the case?" I ask. "Is there not a risk that even in her book form, she will be aware of her plight? I cannot imagine that it will be pleasant, to be the idol of the Forbidders."

  "There is no way that we'll ever know," he replies. "We must just trust that she will be properly guided."

  "But the eighth world," I reply, my mind racing with all the possibilities. I can't shake the feeling that the presence of an eighth world might mean that there's something we've overlooked. After all, the calculations of our forefathers were all based upon the idea of there being seven worlds. This eighth world is at the very least an interruption, and perhaps it is more; perhaps it is an opportunity. "Might not the eighth world be..." I pause, imagining the worlds themselves coming so close that they touch.

  "It's over," Reith says. "We can only hope that other worlds will keep our memory alive."

  "But the..." I start to say. There's a nagging feeling at the back of my mind, as if there might be something that I'm forgetting. A short time ago, I was determined to end my life following my failure to save the Library. Now, however, I'm starting to wonder whether there might be a possibility of saving this world after all. Perhaps I'm just a fool who cannot face the truth about his world's destruction, but I feel I must at least consider any alternatives that occur to me. "The prophecies," I continue. "Tell me what they said about the fate of the Library."

  "The Library was supposed to last forever," Reith says.

  "Then how can it have been destroyed?"

  "The prophecies were wrong."

  "The prophecies are never wrong," I say firmly. "Tell me what else they said. Did they mention a period of destruction?"

  He shakes his head. "The prophecies always spoke of eternal growth. They claimed that the Library would spread further with each passing year, and that its expanse would never be cut back."

  "Then there must be eternal growth," I tell him. "The prophecies must come to pass."

  "But look around, Vanguard," he continues. "This whole place is dead. The books, the shelves, the people... They're all gone."

  "And what of the birth of the Library?" I ask. "Were there any written records of that period?"

  "Of course not," he says. "There was no-one around to witness what happened." He pauses for a moment. "I mean, there were attempts made to understand how the Library was created. The old archivists believed that whatever had existed before the Library, it had been destroyed in a great and bloody war, and the Library grew out of the blood-soaked soil."

  "And what is this?" I ask, reaching down and picking up a clump of soil from the ground. As I squeeze it in my hand, blood trickles out between my fingers and down to the ground. "Is this not blood-soaked soil?"

  "The soil here is bloodied from the war that was brought by the Forbidders."

  Turning, I hurry across the barren land, searching for the one thing that can prove Reith wrong. An idea is beginning to form in the back of my mind. It's an idea that is so hard to grasp, I feel as if I'm on the brink of insanity. Still, it's the only way to explain everything that has happened without breaking the prophecies. Finally, just as I feel that I must give up my search, I spot something small and white poking up from the ground. I hurry over and kneel, and sure enough I find a small green shoot poking up from the soil. Something is growing. Despite all the death and destruction, and despite all the blood and bone that has been trampled into the ground, something is persisting in this world.

  "What is it?" Reith asks as he catches up to me.

  "The shelves," I say. "Where did they come from?"

  "They grew from the soil," he replies, "but -" He stops speaking as he sees the green shoot. "This isn't possible," he says. "This -"

  "And the eighth world," I say firmly, interrupting him. "Is that possible? No, but we saw it. Perhaps our forefathers were wrong on some counts. Should we not consider the possibility that their perspective was wrong, or at least that it was different to ours?"

  "But the prophecies -"

  "The prophecies were not wrong," I say, feeling my chest filling with anticipation. Out of the chaos of this whole situation, I'm starting to see the first sliver of hope. It's as if everything is suddenly starting to make sense, and the mess of conflicting events is rearranging itself before my astounded eyes. "The Library was born from the bloodied soil of a great battle," I say, "and it will grow forever without being held back." Turning, I look at the horizon and see the growing storm from the Forbidders' bridge. "Claire," I say eventually, getting to my feet. "Claire is the reason for all of this."

  "The girl?" Reith asks. "What did she do?"

  "Nothing," I reply. "Not yet, anyway. But the Library grew once from bloodied soil, and it will grow again. Every shelf and every book."

  "Impossible," Reith says. "How could such a thing happen?"

  "All it needs is life, and a seed. Something to store the memory of the Library. Some way that it can regrow, even if the process is long and slow. We just need to get rid of the Forbidders first."

  "You're babbling," Reith replies, dismissin
g my ideas. "Has madness set in? Have you seen so much death and destruction, your mind can no longer remain whole? I sympathize, Vanguard, but perhaps in your final moments of life you should try to remain calm? Perhaps it would do you good to consider the simpler, happier things rather than dwelling on false hope?"

  Turning and looking toward the horizon, I watch as the Forbidders' bridge continues to grow in the dark sky. It looks so horrific, so final; soon, they'll be ready to take Claire back to their world and leave the Library forever. I take a couple of steps forward, my feet squelching in the bloodied soil of the wrecked Library. Looking down, I see a couple more green shoots starting to poke their way out from beneath the surface.

  "It's already beginning," I say slowly, marveling at the way the shoots are forcing their way through the soil. "It's life itself. Indomitable, unstoppable life." I turn to him. "No place can be entirely dead. It's just not possible. Life will always find a way to thrive. The Forbidders have destroyed almost everything here, but life keeps moving forward, even if it has to take a new form."

  "A few green shoots here and there aren't enough to recreate the Library," he replies. "It's just impossible. They'll just become trees."

  "Not if they're given a very specific type of life," I reply. "The Librarian didn't take Claire away from this place because he wanted to hide her. He knew that would never work anyway. He knew that eventually she'd be brought back here to face the Forbidders, so he did the only thing that might help the Library to survive." I pause for a moment, my mind racing as I start to understand what's happening. "Blood," I say eventually. "Her blood must be spilled."

  "The girl's?"

  I nod. "In order for the Library to be reborn," I say, slowly unsheathing my sword, "Claire must die. It's her blood that will act as the seed for a new Library. It's the only way the prophecies can be upheld, and it's the only thing that explains why the Librarian chose to take her away in the first place."