The Harpy's Song

by Logan Joss

  ‘It looks out of place, doesn’t it?’ Mèlli said dreamily after they had been walking for a while.

  ‘What does?’

  ‘The library.’ Mèlli pointed ahead of them to a huge building of smooth white stone. ‘Look at the architecture. It’s so different from any of the other buildings.’ He gestured around them.

  ‘Yes, I suppose so.’

  ‘I never really noticed it before, but now that it’s so quiet, I feel drawn to it. I can imagine what it would have been like before the city was here.’

  ‘I didn’t realize how big it was,’ Trevor said.

  ‘No-one knows who built it, or how long it has been here, but it’s thought that it was built around a strange monument called the Shadowlith, which is still inside. Come on, I’ll show you.’

  Mèlli tugged on Trevor’s sleeve and sprinted off up the broad steps to the library entrance. They entered a large, square porch area and Mèlli pushed open the sturdy inner doors to the library itself. Inside they paused. Trevor stared in awe at the building’s cavernous interior, even more eerily silent than the streets outside. On either side of the broad central aisle, tiered mezzanine floors reached up to the high vaulted ceiling, proudly displaying bookcases brimming with rare volumes.

  At the far end of the building, set high into the gable wall, was a vast, diamond-shaped window and, depicted within its colorful panes, was a man holding one hand up to the sky.

  ‘Ah, the window,’ Mèlli said, following Trevor’s gaze. ‘No-one can agree on who the man is, but my mum always said that he was giving a gift to the Watchers to appease their anger.’

  Trevor just nodded.

  ‘Oh, and see that thing in his hand? It’s not just a piece of glass but an actual object inserted into the window. At certain times of the year, the light shines through it and makes the whole library look like it’s filled with dancing firefairies.’ Mèlli suddenly jolted out of his nostalgia. ‘Come on. We’ve got to search through all of this and be back to the palace by sunset.’

  He bounced off into the library and Trevor, still gazing in amazement all around him, had to run to catch up. Mèlli waited for him at the bottom of a staircase which led up to the top floors. As he caught up, Mèlli whispered, ‘Shh, you know this place is haunted don’t you?’ He darted off up the staircase, giggling.

  ‘Hey, wait for me!’ Trevor said. He raced after Mèlli but couldn’t catch him until he reached the uppermost level, high in the vaulted roof. Mèlli ran all the way along the floor and leaned out over the railings at the end.

  ‘Hurry up, Trevor. I want to show you something.’

  Trevor caught up, panting. They were as high as the diamond window now, and separated from it by an immense open space, as the floors stopped far short of the gable wall.

  ‘Look down there.’ Mèlli pointed to the floor far below. ‘That’s the monument I was telling you about—the Shadowlith.’

  Recessed into the floor was a large, solid rectangle of sheer black, which seemed to absorb all the light that fell upon it as if it were formed of shadow.

  ‘Wow!’ said Trevor, wide-eyed. ‘It’s almost as if it’s not there.’

  ‘They say it has a very powerful enchantment on it. Some people claim they can’t even see it.’ Mèlli turned to face Trevor. ‘But I’ve touched it,’ he said in a half-whisper.

  A metallic clang reverberated around the library, seeming to come from one of the lower floors. Trevor and Mèlli looked at each other nervously and froze to listen. Mèlli rolled his eyes at Trevor, pretending not to be scared. ‘Come on, we need to get some work done,’ he said, leading Trevor into a side room.

  The room was filled with sturdy wooden chests with narrow drawers and bundles of rolled up scrolls in recesses in the walls.

  ‘We’ll find all the maps we need for Borreós in here,’ Mèlli said, pulling out a stack of flat maps from one of the drawers and placing them on top of the chest. ‘You start with these.’ He collected some rolled up scrolls from high up in the wall and proceeded to examine them himself.

  Trevor started to look at the maps Mèlli had given him and then pulled out a piece of parchment and a pencil from a bag he was carrying. He began to sketch a copy of one of the maps.

  ‘Why are you doing that?’ Mèlli said. ‘We’ll just take them with us.’

  ‘Are we allowed to do that?’ Trevor asked with concern. Mèlli just shrugged. Just then a dull thud came from the staircase, followed by a sharp groan. Both Trevor and Mèlli stood bolt upright, wide-eyed.

  ‘Did you hear that?’ Trevor said.

  Mèlli grabbed a heavy firestone lamp and held it out in front of them. The sound of footsteps climbing the stairs became louder and louder as Trevor and Mèlli stood behind the open door, poised and ready. Shuffling sounds of feet, accompanied by groaning noises, slowly approached. Mèlli raised the lamp up high, ready to defend himself and Trevor, but then lowered it again with a sigh of relief at the sight of the librarian, a small runian man, standing in the doorway.

  ‘Oh! You really scared—’ Mèlli began, and then, ‘Ah! Ouch! What?’ as the librarian started hitting him around the knees with a long stick.

  ‘You thieving little urchins!’ the man shouted. ‘How dare you! What sort of people would steal from a library? Some of these tomes are irreplaceable.’ He ranted on, still jabbing at the boys with his stick.

  Mèlli hopped from one foot to another. ‘Hey! Stop! If you just give me a chance, I can explain.’

  The man was livid. ‘Explain? There’s no excuse for thievery.’

  Trevor tried to grab at the stick to defend Mèlli but ended up just getting a beating himself.

  ‘We’re not thieves. Stop hitting him!’ he said. But the man did not desist.

  ‘I have an order from the King,’ Mèlli announced suddenly.

  The man lowered his stick and looked up at Mèlli, blinking. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked suspiciously, still holding the stick out in front of him. ‘Show me.’

  Mèlli produced a scroll from within his jacket and showed it to the man. Spotting the royal seal, the man’s eyes widened. He took the scroll from Mèlli’s hands as if it were a precious artifact. Tucking his stick under his arm, he carefully broke the wax seal and read the scroll’s contents.

  ‘Will the king himself be visiting?’ he asked in a cautious tone.

  ‘No. The king’s too busy so he sent us,’ Mèlli said.

  The man drew himself up taller. ‘Hmmm. I still should have been informed,’ he huffed. ‘Now then. This search needs to be conducted in an orderly fashion. You can’t just go pulling out maps and scrolls indiscriminately. Tell me what you need and I will get it for you.’

  Mèlli rolled his eyes and rummaged in his pocket to find a list on a scrap of paper, which he handed to the librarian.

  He perused the list thoughtfully, muttering under his breath, ‘Hmmm…yes. Borreós…Musical Mountains. Yes, that’s easy enough. Dragons? That would either be Thiràs the Dragon Hunter or Orphaèdeses’ Almanac of Dragons.’

  Then he looked up and addressed Trevor and Mèlli directly. ‘You can use the reading room on the second level. I will find everything you need and bring it to you there.’

  ‘Oh, well, thank you for your offer but we’re fine here,’ Mèlli said. ‘I know my way around this library.’

  The librarian fixed Mèlli with an admonishing stare. ‘If you make your way to the second floor, I’ll tidy up this mess and bring what you need down to you,’ he said pointedly.

  Trevor gave Mèlli a resigned shrug and headed out through the door towards the staircase. Seeing no other course of action, Mèlli followed him, shooting a look of contempt at the librarian on his way out.

  In the reading room, Trevor sat patiently at the table, while Mèlli paced up and down. ‘We could have had it done by now,’ Mèlli grumbled after a while. ‘What’s taking him so long?’

  ‘I suppose it saves us the trouble of having to go and find everything,’ Trevor said. />
  ‘Trouble? That’s part of the fun of coming to the library.’ Mèlli stopped his pacing and looked at Trevor. ‘Where’s the fun in just sitting here while someone else brings us what we need? I want to go and find it myself.’

  However, they didn’t have to wait much longer before the librarian arrived, his arms full of scrolls, books and parchments.

  ‘I took what I considered to be the best from the room that you were in. I also brought you these—they were in an area not open to the general public. I think you’ll find them most useful,’ the librarian said smugly.

  Mèlli’s eyes widened at the thought of having access to an area of the library that was normally closed to the public. Trevor leaned across the table and took one of the books from the pile, turning it over in his hand and examining it.

  ‘How come you’re here anyway?’ Trevor asked the librarian. ‘I thought the city had been evacuated.’

  ‘Avoiding the war I expect,’ Mèlli muttered under his breath to Trevor. ‘Coward.’

  ‘Coward? I’ll have you know there’s more at stake here than lives! I’m preserving the knowledge of generations.’ Wounded, the librarian turned to the door. ‘That’s enough to get you started. I’ll be back with more from your list in due course.’ He left swiftly.

  ‘I think you offended him,’ Trevor said.

  Mèlli screwed up his face. ‘Truth hurts.’

  He rummaged through the scrolls, picked out a few and took them to one end of the table. ‘You carry on looking through these books and maps, Trevor,’ he instructed. ‘Find out anything you can about caves beneath the Musical Mountains and see if you can find any ways in. I’ll look for information about dragons and specifically anything about one that lives in Borreós.’

  The pair studied the books carefully, noting down anything important on pieces of parchment. From time to time, the librarian stopped by to tidy up all the things they’d finished with and to bring new material.

  After some time, Trevor leaned back in his chair and stretched. ‘I’ll go blind if I have to look at these scrolls anymore. And I’m starving too.’

  ‘We haven’t been here that long.’

  ‘Yeah, we have. We’ve been here ages!’ Trevor said.

  Mèlli looked over to the window and saw that the sun was indeed high in the sky. ‘Oh, alright then. Let’s stop to eat.’

  He rummaged in his bag and pulled out a bundle wrapped in cloth. He placed it on the table and untied it to reveal chunks of bread, roughly sliced meats and cheese and some yellow fruits with short stalks, which Trevor thought resembled apples. They ate voraciously and Trevor was very careful to scoop up all the spilled crumbs afterward.

  The afternoon passed in much the same way as the morning, until Mèlli closed his book and stood up. ‘I’ve just thought of something. I’m going to find the librarian,’ he said, turning and walking out of the room.

  ‘Okay then,’ Trevor said to the empty doorway.

  Mèlli descended to the ground floor, crossed over to the staircase on the opposite side and went up one flight of stairs to the history section. A plaque above the alcove read: ‘History of rus’. He scanned the shelves and pulled out a scroll, which he opened up and examined. Satisfied that it was what he was looking for, he rolled it up tightly and concealed it down one leg of his pants. Next, he made his way back down the stairs and along the central aisle to the back of the library. Turning to his left, he entered a door that led down a narrow flight of stone steps to the vaults below. He descended the steps cautiously, craning his head around to scan for any sign of movement.

  A chain hung at waist level across one of the many alcoves, bearing a sign that read, ‘No entry. Authorized personnel only’. Mèlli smiled to himself, sure that he had found the right place. He stepped over the chain and entered the dimly lit room. All around him were bookcases and shelves overflowing with scrolls. Looking around him, he reached into his leather pouch and pulled out a square of parchment. He unfolded it with great care and examined what was on it for a moment before comparing it in turn to the scrolls on the bookcase before him. Then he stopped, removed one scroll and held it up against the parchment. He smiled. With a furtive glance behind him, he tucked the scroll down the other leg and turned to leave. He exited the alcove swiftly and began heading up the steps into the main library, when the small figure of the librarian appeared on the stairs above him. He looked cross.

  ‘What are you doing down here?’ he growled.

  ‘I…I was looking for you,’ Mèlli said. ‘I’m really sorry. I know I should have stayed in the reading room but I…remembered something important.’

  ‘And what was that?’ the librarian asked, his brow furrowed.

  ‘Um…King Somúlùs wanted me to find out if you had any information about the Ëláryian civilization. Something…authentic.’

  The librarian scrutinized Mèlli for a moment before answering. ‘King Somúlùs? It wasn’t on the list.’

  Mèlli faltered slightly. ‘Um…this was a personal request.’

  ‘I see. There is something that may be of interest,’ the librarian said, thoughtfully. Of course, it can’t leave the library, but I’d be happy to show it to you and you can report your findings to the king.’

  He led Mèlli back towards the front of the library and into a side room that appeared to serve as a study. From here, a locked door led through to a small inner chamber. The librarian took a scroll from a bookcase within and set it down carefully upon the table.

  ‘This is the scroll of Zethaphùs,’ he said, unrolling it slowly. ‘It is the oldest scroll ever to have been discovered. We’re very fortunate to have it here. It has been with us for centuries and has been examined by scholars from all over Ëlamár, but to no avail. None has ever been able to decipher it. Its contents remain a mystery.’

  Mèlli studied the scroll. It was a long parchment, filling the length of the table, and was stained yellow with age. Runes written in faded black ink covered its surface, interspersed with depictions of simple scenes in yellow, red and black.

  ‘This is extremely old,’ the librarian continued, his eyes twinkling. ‘It predates our current civilization and is thought to be Ëláryian.’ He lowered his voice in a conspiratorial manner. ‘I believe it was written by the last Ëláryian.’

  Footsteps sounded in the study and there was the sound of a door creaking.

  ‘Hello? Mèlli, are you in here?’ came the sound of Trevor’s voice.

  ‘In here, Trevor,’ Mèlli called.

  Trevor’s face appeared around the door.

  ‘Ah, I forgot about your friend,’ the librarian said, looking a little displeased.

  ‘You’ve been gone for ages. What have you been doing?’ Trevor complained. ‘I finished with all the books and things ages ago.’

  Mèlli subtly indicated towards the librarian and rolled his eyes. Trevor understood. Trying not to smile, he turned his attention to the scroll on the table.

  ‘Wow, that looks old!’

  ‘Yes indeed,’ the librarian said and proceeded to tell Trevor all about it.

  ‘Oh, it’s late. We’d better get going,’ Mèlli interrupted after just a short while.

  They both thanked the librarian for his help and started to walk back towards the library’s main doors, but the little man came scurrying out after them.

  ‘Actually,’ he said, ‘there is something you could do for me before you leave.’

  Trevor and Mèlli stopped in their tracks and turned around. Mèlli sighed in exasperation.

  ‘What is it?’ Trevor asked, patiently.

  ‘I just have a few boxes to load onto a cart, out at the back.’

  Reluctantly, they followed the librarian out to the rear of the library, where a boodaloofe and cart waited, surrounded by much more than just a few boxes of books, scrolls, parchments and other paraphernalia.

  ‘Now look what you’ve done,’ Mèlli said in an aside to Trevor. ‘We could have been out of here by now.’


  By the time they finished loading the boxes of precious artifacts onto the cart, Mèlli realized the sun was almost setting. They thanked the librarian once more before going back into the library to retrieve their bags and leaving through the main doors to the quiet streets outside.

  Hanging low in the sky, the sun had painted the horizon in shades of magenta, bathing the city with a warm glow. Trevor skipped down the steps and started to head back in the direction of the palace, but was stopped by a tug on his arm.

  ‘Do you want to see the harbordrome?’ Mèlli asked, his eyes shining.

  19

  Over The Edge

  ARE YOU SURE we’ve got time for this?’ Trevor asked for the hundredth time as he plodded reluctantly behind Mèlli on their way to the harbordrome.

  ‘Come on, Trevor, we’re nearly there,’ Mèlli said, ignoring his complaints.

  ‘Okay then, but you can be the one to explain to King Somúlùs why we’re late!’

  Mèlli just smiled.

  Still concerned with being late, Trevor hurried on ahead.

  ‘Not that way! Over here,’ Mèlli shouted.

  They turned left at the end of the narrow street and the harbordrome lay before them. The worn cobbled quayside was the only thing that separated Trevor from the jumble of rigging and masts that crisscrossed as they swayed in the gentle evening breeze. On either side of the harbordrome, two white stone walls protruded out like arms. One held a tower which looked like a lighthouse and the other a large statue of a strange being.

  ‘That’s Pönicighth, one of the Watchers,’ Mèlli said, pointing to the statue. ‘The Watchers were supposed to have created Ëlamár and all life on it, but not even my parents believed those stories. He’s meant to watch over the skies and seas. Come on, I’ll show you!’ He tugged at Trevor’s arm and then sprinted off towards the nearest harbordrome wall. Trevor followed with a renewed sense of excitement.