by Amy Cross
Copyright 2020 Amy Cross
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, entities and places are either products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, businesses, entities or events is entirely coincidental.
Kindle edition
First published: June 2020
A journey to a distant world known as the Great Library, a fight against the ultimate evil, and a promise to her dying sister. For Alex Connor, a trip to the local library is about to become a battle for survival.
When she sets out on a late-night journey to find a rare book, Alex has no idea that she's about to be transported to a land far away. The Great Library is an entire world filled with library shelves that stretch not only across deserts, but also up the sides of mountains, deep into bottomless pits, and even beneath vast oceans. Every book ever written can be found on these shelves.
The Great Library is under threat, however, from a tyrannical warlord who believes he's the only person who can save the land from annihilation. All he demands in return is immortality.
Teaming up with an unlikely team of misfits, including the mysterious and ancient Rinth, Alex soon finds herself drawn along on a terrifying adventure that takes her from island fortresses and ancient cities, to pirate ships and a journey to locate the long-lost Hidden Library. The fate of an entire world is at stake, but will Alex and her friends be able to stop Darvill before he destroys Rinth and seizes the ultimate prize?
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
The Legend of Rinth
Chapter One
“Alexandra,” Mum calls up from downstairs, “did you hear what I just said about reading to your sister?”
Sighing, I get up and head across my bedroom. Once I'm out on the landing, I go to the top of the stairs and see Mum down at the bottom in one of her fancy dresses. For a moment, I feel a flicker of irritation at the thought that they're going out again, but then I remind myself that the last thing I need right now is another argument.
Thunder rumbles outside as rain continues to come crashing down, battering the windows.
“I told you I'll do it in a minute,” I say, unable to entirely scrub the lack of patience from my voice. “I'm right in the middle of some really important homework.”
“It's best to read to her before seven each evening,” she replies, “so that she's not kept up too late and -”
“Yes, I know,” I say with another sigh, “and I won't be much longer. If you'd just let me get on with what I'm doing, I'd be finished faster.”
“You're fifteen years old,” she says, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “You shouldn't be this keen to do homework. I shouldn't be having to ask you to stop doing homework. I feel like I'm in upside-down, back-to-front world.”
“It's not my fault if everyone else in my class lacks ambition,” I tell her. “I actually want to get into a good school some day, and that means working hard right now. The grades I get this year will stay with me for the rest of my life, they'll influence the choices that are available to me in a year or two, they'll basically become the foundation of my entire life.” I pause for a moment, hoping that she might finally understand. “Of course, this'd all be a lot easier if you'd just let me buy that book I told you about.”
“The one that costs almost two thousand pounds? Yeah, seriously not happening, even if we could afford it. I don't care how rare it is, it's not worth that much. No book is. There must be a copy online somewhere.”
“Yeah, well, there isn't,” I reply, “so I guess my essay on the history of libraries will just have to suffer, won't it? Then again, given the amount of support I get around here, I probably shouldn't bother studying at all. I should just run away from home, live on the streets and start cultivating a smack habit.”
“Your father and I will be back from the theater around midnight,” she says, conspicuously changing the subject now she realizes she can't possibly win the argument. “Please, at least spare half an hour to read to your sister, I'm sure she enjoys it. And don't give Nurse Hawthorne a hard time, okay? I don't want to have to look for another new nurse just because you keep wearing them all out.”
“I do nothing of the sort,” I reply.
“Don't work too hard,” she says as she heads out of sight, making her way to the front door. “I can't believe I'm having to say things like that to my fifteen-year-old daughter. Can't she start drinking and dabbling in soft drugs like a normal girl her age?”
“Goodnight, Alex!” Dad calls out. “Try not to cause too much trouble while we're gone!”
“As if!” I mutter, but then the front door swings shut and I'm left standing on the landing, feeling as if Mum and Dad simply don't understand why I'm so keen on my studies. Am I really such a freak for having plans and ambitions? Is it so wrong for a fifteen-year-old girl to be focused on her future?
Turning, I head into my room and go over to the desk. I take a seat and try to focus on the webpage I was reading, but Mum's interruption has seriously disturbed my concentration. I guess the problem is that I know I have to go and read to Libby soon, and that means I can't properly settle. I try for a moment longer, until finally I let out a grunt of annoyance as I get to my feet and head back out of the room. I guess it's better if I read to Libby now, so that I can concentrate on my studies later. I'm pretty sure that's the only way I'm ever going to get any peace around here.
Thunder rumbles again, getting louder.
***
After knocking gently, I ease the door open and look through to see that Nurse Hawthorne is in the process of checking the tubes that help Libby breathe.
“Sorry,” I say, keeping my voice down as the machines beep, “I can come back later if this is a bad time.”
“No, it's fine,” she replies, making her way over to join me. “I was just telling her that you'd probably be through soon. Your mother says she thinks Libby really likes it when people read to her. You especially.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I say, looking over at Libby's face. I feel a flicker of discomfort. Even after so many years, I hate seeing my little sister like this. “To be honest, most of the time I don't think she really knows that any of us are here. She probably can't hear us reading to her at all.”
“I think she can,” Nurse Hawthorne replies. “And I think deep down you do too, Alex, otherwise you wouldn't do it. Listen, I'm going to go downstairs and sort out some sheets for when I change Libby's bed again, so you can read to her for as long as you want. Did your parents already go out?”
“Yep,” I tell her. “I can't believe they're not staying home, it sounds like the worst storm of all time out there. They must be really desperate to go see that show.”
“It's good for them to get out a little,” she says. “You all need to try to have moments of normality. Have you been out of the house today?”
“I've been studying.”
“It might be good for you to call some friends and -”
“I don't have time for friends,” I tell her. “I need to bump my grades up by at least another percentage point. There'll be t
ime for friends later.”
“Just don't work too hard,” she replies. “You need to relax occasionally.”
Great. Someone else who doesn't understand.
I bristle a little as she walks out of the room, and finally I'm left alone with my sister. I know it's wrong of me, but sometimes I feel really out of sorts when I'm here in the room with Libby. Ever since the accident, Libby's just been sort of 'gone', at least as a person. Her body's still here, and the machines are keeping her alive for now, but she hasn't opened her eyes once and I'm really starting to doubt that she's actually in there. I hate myself for thinking this, but the way I see it, Libby's long gone and her body's basically just this empty thing attached to a machine. Mum and Dad are desperately clinging to the false hope that she'll wake up one day, but it'd be better for everyone – including Libby – if we all accepted the inevitable.
Then again, if there's even a one in a million chance that she's still in there, I guess we have to try to reach her.
“Hey,” I say as I make my way over to her, “how are things going?”
I stop at the foot of the bed and look at her, and I already feel bad for asking such a dumb question. The thing is, Libby's quite a bit younger than me, and I just don't know what she'd want me to talk about. Those years feel like a really big gap right now and I've even been struggling to find appropriate books. Like, she's not a little kid, but she's also not an adult, and even then I'm not sure whether her brain's working properly. What if part of her's still alive, but part of her is gone? Either way, it's not as if she can give me any feedback. What if I'm boring her?
“Okay” I say, figuring that I need to get on with this. I head over to the stack of books in the corner. “What do you want me to read today, huh? Alice in Wonderland's always a good one, or we could start The Phantom Tollbooth. Or if you want something easier, how about The Cat in the Hat? Or, if you really want, I guess I could dig out another of these Famous Five books, or even -”
Before I can finish, thunder rumbles again, this time louder than ever. The windows shudder in their frames, and I swear I feel the floor vibrate slightly. This is an old house, and Mum and Dad don't really have the money to renovate it properly. Sometimes I think one really big storm could bring the whole thing crashing down all around us.
“Now that's what I call bad weather,” I tell Libby. “It's getting biblical out there, I think there might even be -”
Another rumble shakes the house, and as I look up at the ceiling I realize I can hear a dripping sound coming from somewhere.
“Great,” I mutter, “that's just what we need. Now it's raining inside.”
I get back to sorting through the various books for a moment, even though I can't shake the feeling that this is more for me than for her. What if Mum and Dad and the rest of us are just doing all these things because we want to feel like better people? What if we're actually torturing Libby by disturbing her like this? I mean, I literally have no idea which of these books she'd like to hear me read. Am I not just doing this for my own benefit, so I can feel like a good sister?
“Alice in Wonderland it is,” I say finally, setting the other books aside and then going over to the chair next to Libby's bed. As I sit down, I glance at her face, but I don't really know why I bother.
Her expression never changes.
Looking at one of her ears, I can't help but think how strange it is that she might only have her hearing left. All the experts say that hearing is the last sense to go. What if the two little holes on either side of her head are the only way for the rest of the world to get to her? Sometimes I think they look like rabbit holes. I'm fully aware that I keep changing my mind on this subject about a thousand times a day, but I guess I can't quite let myself get my hopes up. Mum and Dad think there'll be a miracle, and that Libby will one day spring up out of bed and everything will be fine again. I want to agree with them, but I think they're wrong. Does that make me a horrible person?
The truth is, I really don't think that Libby knows I'm here.
“So I reckon you'll really like this,” I say as I open the book. “I know you've seen the film, but that was ages ago, and anyway the book's quite different in some ways. It's really imaginative and -”
My phone briefly buzzes.
“It's just cool, is what it is,” I tell her, as I slip my phone from my pocket and see that I've received a notification from the library service I use. I figure it's just a reminder of an overdue book, but I open the message anyway, and then I freeze as I see what it's about.
After a moment, I sit bolt upright as I read the message again, not quite believing that it can be true.
“This might be the greatest day of my life,” I stammer. “Libby, there's a copy of that book I need! I have no idea why it's just appeared now, but I thought this book was impossible to find! Copies are, like, thousands of pounds online, and I could never get Mum or Dad to shell out for it. It's, like, one of the rarest books in the world! You can't even find scans of its pages!”
I excitedly scroll down to find some more details of where I can find the book, and to my surprise I see that although it's in a fairly local library, it's not a place I've ever heard of before.
“The Southwall Road Library,” I whisper. “I never noticed a library on Southwall Road before, but it must be pretty close! This is the biggest and best miracle of all time! It's like a sign from the universe!”
I bring up a search page and try to find some more information about this mysterious Southwall Road Library place, but nothing much comes up other than a little box that says it's open tonight until 9pm. I run some quick mental calculations, and that's when I realize that I actually just about have time to get there and borrow the book. On top of that, the opening hours are specifically linked only to today, almost as if this is the one day of the year that this particular library is open. That's absurd, of course, and it must be a mistake, but I'm still starting to feel as if I really need to get off my ass and head down there. Even in this terrible weather.
I look over at Libby.
“Hey,” I say cautiously, “I know I literally just got here, and I promise I'll read to you later, when I get back, but I have to go and get this one particular book. You don't mind, do you? It's just that this book is, like, the ultimate guide to the history of libraries around the world. That's what it's called, The Book of Libraries, and if I don't go and get it right now I might seriously flunk this essay. Plus, I'll get major extra marks for quoting from it.” I pause for a moment, feeling like a bad person. “You understand, Libby, don't you? You know that life is still going on out here, right? We can't all just sit around the house all day, like you. Some of us have futures to plan for.”
I shudder as I realize what I just said, but I guess there's no taking it back now. I answered my own question: I am a horrible person.
“I'll be an hour, tops,” I say, setting the book aside before getting to my feet and heading to the door. “You do understand, Libby, right? I know you do. And I promise I'll read to you for twice as long as normal when I get back. Three times as long, okay? Do we have a deal?”
Stopping in the doorway, I turn to look back at her. She looks so sad and small there, in her bed with so many tubes and wires sticking out of her, and with the machines beeping all around.
“I'm not abandoning you,” I tell her. “I'm not doing a bad thing, I'm just managing my time. I'll be back soon, I promise. I know you'd understand if you could hear me.”
The beeps continue.
“Okay,” I add sadly, before heading out onto the landing.
I pause for a moment, filled with the sense that I shouldn't be leaving. What if Libby was happy that I was about to read to her, and then I cruelly changed my mind and left? What if, inside, she's crying? If I'm a good sister, I'll go straight back in there right now, and I'll just forget about the book until tomorrow. That library can't actually be a one-day affair, I don't think pop-up libraries are even a thing. And it's not like g
etting hold of that book will totally change my life. It's just one essay.
One really important essay.
“I'll be back soon, Libby,” I whisper, even though I know she won't be able to hear me from the bedroom. “I promise.”
By the time I'm downstairs, I've figured out exactly how I'm going to do this. I grab my raincoat and an umbrella, and some heavy waterproof shoes, and then I head to the doorway that leads through to the kitchen and the laundry room. If I really hurry, I'll be home in no time, and I'll read to Libby before getting back down to some proper work. Really, I figure I need to stop worrying so much.
“I'm just going out to pick something up!” I shout to Nurse Hawthorne. “It's okay, Mum gave me permission before she went out! I'll be back in an hour!”
Without giving her time to reply, I hurry to the door and pull it open, just as thunder rumbles and a flash of lightning fills the sky.
Chapter Two
Rain is crashing down all around, battering every surface as I hurry along the dark street and try to stay as much as possible under shop awnings. The pavement is dancing with reflected light from the road, spitting like a frying pan as rain continues to fall, and I'm quite surprised by just how many people are out on such an atrocious night. The road is mega busy, and the pavements are overflowing with bustling groups all crowded under umbrellas. Then again, this is London, and I guess I should be used to it being busy. If New York's the city that never sleeps, then London's the city that never even stops to take a breath.
Reaching the next corner, I take a left turn and start making my way along Southwall Road. I must have walked along here a thousand times over the years, and I'm certain I've never noticed this Southwall Road Library place. I'd take my phone out now and double-check that I'm definitely in the right street, but the rain makes that impractical. Another rumble of thunder shakes the city, followed a couple of seconds later by a flash of lightning, and then the dark sky growls again. I can't help thinking that I've never known a storm like this in all the time we've lived in London.