by Casey White
Daniel stole one last glance at the apartment. He could still see James and Maya through the window in the door, just shadows rapidly fading from view. He smiled, fixing the image in his mind.
He put the car in gear. Leon’s hand settled over his, soft and warm.
Letting off the brake, he drove.
* * * * *
Bells screamed from overhead.
Daniel jerked, twitching awake. Beside him, he heard a heavy thump as Leon fell straight off the bed. “W-What the-”
“It’s f-fine,” Daniel said, blinking away the last remnants of sleep. He pushed himself up from the bed, masking a yawn. “It’s…I-It’s…” He shook his head. “It’s time. Guests are here.”
“Oh.” Leon’s head appeared on the far side of the bed. His eyes were perfectly round, his face pale. “Oh, shit. Then-”
“Calm down,” Daniel said, but it was too late. Leon had already darted for the closet he’d claimed. The first time they’d returned to Alexandria, it’d already been there on the wall, ready and waiting for him. She’d probably been waiting years to stick the damn thing into place, knowing her.
The door squeaked open, and bits of clothing started flying out. The bells continued their clattering. Daniel peered up at the ceiling. “We get it,” he said sourly. The bells stopped.
He groaned, levering himself upright, and padded over to where his uniform hung. “You good?” he called, reaching for his shirt.
“W-Where are my pants?”
“I told you to put them away.”
“I’d swear I- Oh, hey.” Leon thrust something beyond the edge of the closet door—a postcard, covered in colorful flowers and what looked like some sort of tropical bird. “James says hi. They’re, uh.” The postcard vanished as Leon peered closer at it. “They’re enjoying Bali. I think. His handwriting sucks.”
“Glad to hear it.” Daniel stumbled, pulling his own pants on, and reached for his coat. “Hey. You good, or should I-”
“Holy shit!”
The sound of Leon’s cry was like a jolt of ice straight to Daniel’s system. He lurched, grabbing for the dresser to steady himself. “Leon? Are you okay?”
“I get a mask?” Leon leapt back into sight, his jacket hanging open—and a smooth white disc of porcelain clutched in his hands. A familiar set of straps hung from its edges. “This is so cool. I’ve always wanted one of these. Always.”
“Well, we can’t have you running around without one,” Daniel said dryly. “Button your damn jacket up.”
“Oh. Right.” Leon fumbled with the buttons. He didn’t seem to want to actually put the mask down, as though he was afraid it’d vanish if he let go of it.
Daniel rolled his eyes, doing up his collar, and strode toward him. “Here,” he said. “Let me help you with that. Put it on your face.”
Leon held the featureless mask to his face, and Daniel did the straps up, muttering the process to Leon as he went. Finally, he pulled Leon’s collar tight, flipping his hood up. “Look at you,” he said. “All good to go.”
“Do I get a name, too?”
Daniel snorted, turning away, and jammed his own mask on. “...Maybe later. For now, uh. What’s that word you threw at me?”
“An acolyte,” Leon said proudly.
“Yeah. That. You can be one of those, if anyone asks.”
“Lame.” He followed after Owl, though, right on his heels as they moved toward the door.
Owl peered around at Alexandria, the door clicking shut behind them. In the few months since their run-in with Madis, Alexandria had recovered...somewhat. The room was bigger, and the shelves were wood instead of rusted metal. The folding chairs had been returned to the familiar overstuffed variety, if a bit threadbare, and they sat in front of a crackling fireplace.
Most importantly, a narrow row of doors waited alongside his—and the statue of Alexandria was gone. He’d gone looking for it a few days ago, with painful relief at finding the passage to the basement hidden behind his dresser. Convenient to get at? No. But it was substantially more concealed, and that was what mattered.
And he’d spotted the first glimmers of light in her well’s depth, which was the final straw to him taking candidates again. She was ready, even if she was still hurting, and he’d had enough books dropped on his head to know she was impatient. So open the Library for candidates he had.
Even if seeing Olivia had hurt like a knife to the chest.
Even if seeing her smile politely at him, her expression reserved and professional, had been like reaching out and twisting that knife.
He shook his head, fixing his eyes to the doorway ahead. “You good?” he said softly.
His acolyte chuckled softly. “Been waiting for this, bird-man.”
Owl rolled his eyes. This is your fault, he whispered silently. You encouraged him.
The faintest tinkling of bells drifted down from overhead. Now she was laughing at him.
Smothering a smile, he reached out, grabbing hold of the door handle. For a moment, he froze, caught staring down at it.
Here they were again—starting everything over again. Opening the doors to strangers. To outsiders. And the last time he did that...everything fell apart.
Maybe he was rushing into this. Maybe they weren’t ready, or the Booklenders still had ulterior motives. Maybe he’d picked wrong, and he was about to let a spy into Alexandria, or-
Leon’s gloved hand brushed against his. “Hey. Get out of your head. We got this.”
Slowly, Owl nodded. He took a deep breath. Another. “You’re right,” he said, straightening. “Let’s do this.”
Whatever came next, he wasn’t alone anymore. They’d face it.
Together.
With a final creak, the doors of Alexandria opened.
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Keep reading for a sample of The Wastes of Keldora by Alex Raizman - Daniel might have a Library, but Julian has a factory. And if he wants to survive, he needs to start building - fast.
Acknowledgements
The Library was the first story I ever wrote.
The first long one, really. It was the first story I shared that got traction and attention from a lot of people, and the first one that really made me stop and say “Wow, this is cool, maybe this can be something more.” The Library was why I made my subreddit, r/inorai. It was the first story that I tried to take and make a full novel. It was also the first story I dropped and put on the shelf, but hey. We got there in the end.
Because of that, ending The Librarian of Alexandria leaves me with a lot of feelings. Without this story, I wouldn’t have gotten here as an author. I wouldn’t have ever pictured myself as someone who could write a book, let alone publish it—let alone dozens more. I wouldn’t have joined the communities that I have, and met the people who are my closest friends and colleagues. I owe The Library a lot.
To everyone who waited, watching for the day The Library would have its day in the sun, thank you. Your jokes and nudges and memes kept the soul of this project alive long after it might otherwise have shriveled up and died.
A long list of names will follow here—Alex, and Jess, and Connor, and Cutter, and Lola, and Aly, and everyone else who has dutifully listened to my incoherent rambles. I’ve said all of your names before, and I hope to continue thanking you for your friendship long into the future.
To the reader
s who are still here, years after we first met, your presence is an honor that still baffles me. I hope I was able to do right by the story for you. I hope that somewhere out there, Hexidian is finally smiling.
And I’m not saying goodbye to Leon and Daniel yet, so stay tuned. The next chapter is ready to begin.
More from Casey White
——————————
Independent Series
————————
The Flameweaver Saga
Chosen
Charred
Nightsworn
Ascendant
-
Reverie
Halfway to Home
Unknown Horizons
Richard “Quickdraw” McCallister
A Eulogy
Shorts
Black Skies
Worlds that Never Were
Deposition of the Departed
The Aedanverse
————————
Remnants of Magic
Silvertongue
Wanderer
Legion
The Librarian of Alexandria
The Library
The Librarian
Spark of Divinity
Survival’s Edge
Fortune’s Fool
Terra Rising
Bonus - The Wastes of Keldora (Prologue)
The Wastes of Keldora
Factory of the Gods - Book One
A pillar of flame rose from the ground and streaked towards the heavens. Kurli flinched from the sudden heat and stumbled in her mad dash. Behind her, a guttural voice bellowed with the thrill of the hunt.
An arrow whined as it zipped past one of her long ears, severing a few strands of her metallic silver hair. It stuck into the ground ahead, at the base of the mountain that rose sharply in front of her. The cut on her arm, red blood contrasting with dark grey skin, pulsed in time with her pounding heart, and her ankle shot a lance of pain with every step.
All in all, not one of Kurli’s best days.
She juked to the right moments before another arrow flew through the space she’d just vacated. It gave her a chance to see her attackers. Five Urkin, each taller than her and broad of shoulders, their thick muscles cording under light green skin. Their horns curled back over their heads, and one of them had an arrow sticking into the horn from where Kurli had almost hit the skull.
Time to see if she could hit the mark this time.
Kurli flipped open the pouch for her inventory belt where she kept her bow, pulling it out in a fluid motion. With her other hand, she opened a different pouch. She took a half second to leap to the side, letting another arrow whizz barely past her, and checked the interior of the flap.
Arrows: 12/64
Not much left to work with. She had to make this shot count.
The other Urkin were readying their bows. Urkin bows were twice as thick and strong as her own, and nearly as long as their holders were tall. If an arrow hit her straight on, it would drive through bone and come out the other side. Her own arrows didn’t have that kind of power.
But no one could aim like an Aelif.
Kurli steadied her hand and clicked her tongue. The sound it made wouldn’t register for the Urkin. Her antenna twitched, tasting the minute fluctuations in the air and waiting for the echo to reach her ears. All senses now attuned to her target, she let loose an arrow. It was true on its mark, streaking towards an Urkin skull. He jerked his head at the last second. He bleated in pain as it caught in his horn instead of his skull, and a jerk of his hand sent his arrow flying wildly. Kurli clicked her tongue again and dropped her aim towards his chest, where nothing would obstruct her shot if he moved.
A shield of shifting chains interposed itself between her and her target. The arrow stuck into the barrier and was snapped in half.
Kurli swore and crouched down. A sixth Urkin crested over the hill behind his fellows. He was slimmer than the others, and wore armor - a mesh of chains that covered him from neck to foot and writhed like snakes, only broken by the inventory belt around his waist and the ten-faceted Godcore embedded in his chest. It was a clear gem, the size of her fist. He wasn’t walking. He floated a full Urkin’s height off the ground, the chains trailing down to the ground and pushing him into the air.
Grem’ta. The Chained God.
“Return what you stole, Aelif!” he shouted, his voice echoing across the valley between them as the flame eruption that she’d passed before faded. “And you will have a quick death.”
Kurli didn’t bother exchanging taunts with him. Instead, she readied her bow and took aim. Grem’ta brought up a chain barrier that covered all of the Urkin. Based on the size of his Godcore, he was still Copper Tier, but he had completed the outer ring, meaning he had nine of the ten facets he needed for Bronze. Not that a normal mortal stood much of a chance against even a one facet Copper tier.
But she had to try.
Kurli reached into a different pouch in her inventory and tossed its contents ahead, then crouched lower and clicked her tongue, feeling her spring muscle click into place. With a single twitch, her legs unfurled, sending her flying into the air in a backflip that would have let her clear trees. She clicked her tongue again. Sonar and her antenna’s ability to sense air flow told her exactly where to aim, and she let loose a shot right over the barrier.
Grem’ta moved with inhuman speed, shifting on his chains, but the arrow still grazed his cheek. “Kill her!” he commanded his followers.
As soon as she hit the ground, Kurli was running, and Urkin pounded after her. Grem’ta followed them, his chain tentacles now moving like a spider’s legs to propel him after her.
“Come on,” Kurli muttered, risking a glance over her shoulder. “Work-”
There was a screech on the horizon, and Kurli allowed herself a fierce smile. The Urkin turned towards the sound, and Grem’ta bellowed in rage.
Not that bellowing would do much for him. The blood of the Hive would attract any members of the swarm for miles. These were simple soldier drones, and they were skittering ahead on all six legs, but there were a dozen of them and their mandibles clacked as they chittered their fury at the presumed death of one of their own.
“I’ll deal with this,” Grem’ta growled. “Get the Aelif!”
Exactly what she’d hoped for. The remaining five Urkin had been chasing her all day. Urkin were built more for short bursts of speed than sustained chases. They’d be much easier to deal with now that their God was distracted.
She just had to survive that burst of speed.
Kurli ran again, clicking her tongue every five steps. Her echolocation was only giving her a clear picture of what was directly ahead, and a vague sense of what was behind her, but it was enough for her to roughly know how close they were to closing in. They got within a few paces of her, enough for her to actually hear how heavily they were panting as they started to slow down.
Kurli flipped, bringing her legs up until her spring muscle clicked into place, kicking off the ground the moment she touched it. Clicking her tongue as rapidly as she could, Kurli let loose arrow after arrow as she arced forward. Two of them found Urkin skulls. No horns stopped these shots. Her targets collapsed like puppets with cut strings. One arrow missed its mark but hit the Urkin in the shoulder, causing him to collapse as he clutched at the wound and bleated in agony.
The two uninjured ones moved quickly. One stepped to the side and interposed himself between the wounded survivor and Kurli, and the other reached for his bow.
“Move and die,” Kurli said, her only remaining arrow pointed directly at the Urkin. “I have bigger problems than the two of you. Stay there and live.”
“You killed our brothers,” the one standing over the injured Urkin growled. “You hurt Crodma.”
“Crodma still lives,” Kurli said, making sure to speak slowly so they could understand. She wished she could talk to them in their language, but her mastery of Gulpish was far weaker than their mangling
of her tongue. Which made what she was trying to do even more foolish, but there was no time to think about that. “You’ve lost two this day. Will you save the third?”
The two Urkin shared a look, and then glanced over their shoulders. In the distance, she could see a Hive drone being lifted into the air on two chains before being torn in twain. Its screams were only a faint buzz in the distance.
“He’ll need to find a pool of oil to clean off their blood, unless he wants the Hive to hunt him.”
“You speak truth,” said the one guarding his injured companion. He was the one who had two arrows sticking out of his horns. “You will...still pay for what you did.”
“Perhaps I will. But not today.” Keeping her arrow trained on the nearest Urkin, Kurli backed up towards the mountain until her back hit a barrier. Folding her legs under herself, she vaulted to the top of the cliff.
Only then did she dare breathe a sigh of relief. If they had called her bluff...the image of the Hive drone lifted in the air and torn in two flashed through her mind.
“It doesn’t matter now,” she said softly to herself as she continued to climb. “You’re almost there.”
The cave she was looking for was another ten minutes of climbing up. Kurli started to click her tongue as she walked in, timing the clicks with her footsteps. There was no light beneath the mountain, but she wouldn’t need any.
It was always hard to explain to races without echolocation what it was like. The best description, when she was submerged in darkness, was that it was like seeing a raised outline of everything bigger than the tip of her finger. Smaller than that and she couldn’t make out the details. Also, the outlines weren’t in any actual color. They were black lines on a black canvas but somehow she could still tell where they were.