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

  "And will you have place at your banquet table for a small, unobtrusive creature such as myself?"

  "No."

  "Fair enough."

  We walk a little further, before coming to a cross-point. Aisles lead away in four directions, but there is nothing to indicate which way the human might have fled. In truth, there is nothing to suggest that she came this way at all. We have been hunting her for almost an hour now, and the Library contains so many labyrinthine twists and turns that we could already be far from her path. It frustrates me beyond measure that Sharpe allowed such a magnificent prize to get away, but I am still hopeful that she can be found. I can almost taste her flesh and blood.

  "Perhaps we need to be smarter," Sharpe suggests. "It's one thing to go marching around, hoping to blunder into her or pick up her scent, but why don't we try to get her to come to us?"

  "And how would we do that?" I ask.

  "We think of something that a human would want," he replies. "She can see the same stormy clouds that are gathered above us. She'll be hungry and thirsty, and she won't want to be out in the rain. Humans have a sense of smell, don't they? If we find some pungent meat and place it over a fire, she's bound to come running in our direction. After all, humans are incautious creatures prone to making rash decisions. She probably won't even think to be wary of us. She'll assume that we're friendly."

  "You might be right," I say, "but finding some suitable meat would be a difficult task. Unless you're offering to roast one of your own limbs?"

  "Not quite," he says hastily, "but anything would do. Literally anything."

  I stare at him.

  "Anything," he says again.

  I continue to stare at him.

  "Must I spell it out?" He waits for me to answer. "Perhaps a tick?"

  "What kind of fool would be lured by the stink of a roasted tick?" I ask, filled with contempt for his ridiculous idea.

  "A human fool," he replies. "After all, she's probably never encountered a tick before, so she'll have no idea how bad it tastes. The smell, though, might appeal to her, if she's sufficiently starved."

  "The idea is not without merit," I say, "but the odds of us finding a tick are fairly low. Their numbers have been dwindling lately. It could take us many days to track one down, and by that point the human would surely have fallen victim to the Forbidders. We need to work faster."

  "Then why not ask the Forbidders for help?"

  "And why would they care about us?"

  "It's worth a try," he continues. "After all, the Forbidders have an agenda. They've left you alive all this time, so perhaps they would like to see you grow stronger? If you alert them to the nature of the problem, they might see to it that the human is driven straight toward you."

  "I will not pray to a god I have never seen," I say firmly.

  "I've seen them," he replies. "Well, at least, I think I have. Maybe. One time, I was walking alone and I happened to look up, and I swear I saw the tip of a tail just slipping out of view."

  "The Forbidders have tails?" I ask.

  "Some say they crawl like dragons," he continues. "Others say they walk like men. No-one knows for certain; at least, no-one has ever seen one and lived to talk about it."

  "Lazy superstition," I spit back at him.

  "You got any better ideas?"

  Looking up at the top of the shelves, I sigh as I realize Sharpe might have a point. Although I have had to accept the presence of the Forbidders since they arrived in the Library, I have always been careful to distance myself from the culture of worship that has developed around these creatures. In my travels through the Library, I have come across great tribes that pray regularly to the Forbidders, asking them to grant special favor: when crops are plentiful, these tribes assume that the Forbidders have looked kindly on their efforts; when crops fail, on the other hand, the tribes-people worry that they have in some way displeased their silent gods. It is a pathetic situation, yet perhaps this would be a good time to test out the idea that a prayer to the Forbidders might actually do some good. After all, if these creatures exist and are willing to help me, I might as well take advantage of their generosity.

  "How exactly does one pray?" I ask Sharpe.

  "You've never done it before?"

  I shake my head.

  "Just tell them what you want," he replies. "And be nice about it."

  "Have you ever tried such a thing?"

  "Once or twice, but I'm a bad example. I mean, I doubt the Forbidders give a damn about me. I'm small and insignificant. You, on the other hand, still have a name that carries weight around these parts. A fallen leader cannot entirely be ignored. It's worth a try."

  I take a deep breath as I stare up at the top of the nearest shelf. It's hard to believe that a Forbidder could be lurking up there, just out of sight, listening to me. After all, only the highest members of the Library's caste system have ever seen the form of the Forbidders. Then again, their existence cannot be doubted. Whatever they are, and wherever they came from, and why-ever they are here: they are certainly real.

  "Go on," Sharpe whispers. "Before the rain comes."

  "I am Vanguard," I announce proudly. "I am a Lord of the House of Lacanth. I have slain ten thousand men. I have led armies around the entire circumference of the Library. I do not bend." I pause for a moment, feeling slightly ridiculous. "I seek a human that has recently passed this way. A female human who likely walks with a limp. She has been promised to me by another, and I wish to use her meat for my own purposes. I am having a little trouble tracking her down, and I..." I take a deep breath. "I humbly and... respectfully... ask that the Forbidders might consider helping to guide her to me."

  Silence.

  I wait for some kind of response.

  "That is all," I add tentatively, before turning to Sharpe. "Am I to expect a reply?"

  "Only if you're a fool," he says. "The Forbidders will now consider your request. If the human is delivered to you, you will know that they looked kindly upon you, and you can consider yourself blessed. If the human does not appear any time soon, I suppose your prayer has fallen on deaf ears."

  "You must tell no-one of this," I say firmly. "Not Gum, not anyone. If word got out that I had offered a prayer to the Forbidders..."

  "Relax," he says. "Who am I going to tell?"

  "Remember," I continue, "I have honor to uphold. I am the once-mighty, soon-to-be-mighty-again Vanguard. I am a Lord of the House of Lacanth. I have-"

  "Yes, yes, I know. You've slain ten thousand men, you've led armies around the entire circumference of the Library, you don't bend blah blah blah. You don't have to keep saying it every five minutes."

  "Be glad I do not bend," I reply, "else I would surely stoop to kill you right now."

  "Let's get going," he says, turning and heading along the aisle. "If the Forbidders are going to deliver the human to you, we need to make sure we show them we're serious about this. Rumor has it, they don't look kindly on those who say a prayer and then sit around waiting to be rewarded."

  "You speak of them as if they are real gods," I say, hurrying to catch up to him. It would be unseemly me to walk behind Sharpe, seeing as his status is so much lower than mine.

  "Be careful what you say, Vanguard. If you disparage them, they're unlikely to give you what you want."

  Sighing, I decide to keep my mouth shut. Still, I remember the days before the Forbidders arrived, when the people of the Library worshiped real gods. With the Forbidders around, it seems as if everyone lives in fear. It is my deepest hope that one day I shall be able to form an alliance to overthrow these charlatans who live at the top of the shelves and look down upon us. Until that day, I must bide my time and work carefully, and the first step is to find the human so that I might leverage her meat.

  As we continue to walk along the aisle, rain starts to fall.

  Claire

  Resting lengthways along a shelf, I look out at the aisle and watch as rain pours down. It feels pretty weird to be
caught in a rainstorm in the middle of a library, but I guess my subconscious mind wants to give me a good show. Fortunately, there are small gutters running along the edge of each shelf, diverting the water down into small rivulets that run to the ground. The books, at least, are kept dry, although I'm only partially sheltered: my right shoulder is getting soaked.

  "Wake up wake up wake up," I mutter under my breath, determined to find some way to get out of this coma. It's so frustrating to think of myself in that hospital bed, with people sitting around while doctors prod and poke me; why can't I just get out of this deluded fantasy world and wake up back where I belong? What's wrong with my brain? I wish I knew how I ended up in the coma, so I could maybe start to work out what I need to do in order to get out. As things stand, it looks like I'm going to be doomed to spend the rest of my life wandering these aisles, lost and alone, regularly getting soaked to the skin as I try to dodge the weather.

  I guess it's typical that my subconscious mind would decide to create a fantasy library. After all, I've spent most of my life reading books, especially over the past year while I've been in and out of hospital. I've always loved books, but right now I'm sick of the sight of the damn things. In just a couple of hours since I woke up in this place, I must have walked past hundreds of thousands of titles. It's hard to believe that there are so many books in all the world, but from what I can tell, these aisles seem to stretch to the horizon. I doubt anyone could ever complete a tour of this place before they dropped dead of old age.

  "I don't know if anyone can hear me," I say, hoping against hope that perhaps my lips might be moving in the real world, "but I'm trying really, really hard to wake up here." I take a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears that have started gathering behind my eyes. "I don't want to be in this coma. I don't want to be like this at all. I just want to go home." I swallow hard. I never particularly liked being at home before all of this happened; frankly, I hated being cooped up while I was recovering from my operation. Right now, though, I'd give anything to wake up and go back to my normal life. "Just don't switch me off," I continue, my voice trembling. "Please please please, whatever you do, don't switch off my life support machine or anything like that. I'm not going to die like this. I'm coming back. If you can hear me, give me some kind of sign. Squeeze my hand or something." I wait, hoping that I might feel some kind of signal; unfortunately there's nothing, and I'm left curled up alone on a cold, wet bookshelf.

  After a few minutes, the rain starts to ease, and eventually I decide I might as well get moving again. Climbing out from the shelf, I realize that my ankle has stiffened a little. Fortunately there's a little less pain as I hobble along the muddy ground, trying desperately to avoid the large puddles of rainwater. Wiping my eyes, I remind myself not to get so emotional: I'm not in any imminent danger, after all, so I just need to keep pushing ahead. This place seems so desolate and lost, as if I'm truly one of the only people left here. The only other creatures I've come across so far have been a dead knight wearing maggot-filled armor, and an old man sitting under a shawl. It's as if this place is completely dead, or there's -

  Suddenly I hear something, and I turn. There's nothing behind me, but I swear I heard a quiet rattling sound, almost like a snake's tail. Standing completely still, I listen out for any further sign that there might be something nearby. Just as I'm about to give up and assume I was imagining things, I hear the rattling sound again, and this time I realize it's coming from above me. I look up, but there's nothing there: just the top of the bookshelf. For a moment, it occurs to me that there might have been something up there, looking down at me, but I remind myself that it'd be all too easy to become paranoid in a place like this.

  "Hello?" I call out.

  Silence.

  "Of course not," I mutter, turning and wandering alone the aisle. I've given up trying to come up with any kind of plan; I figure my best bet is to just walk and walk and walk. If I'm truly in a world created by my subconscious mind, something should come along pretty damn soon. After all, my brain's got to come up with something to keep me occupied, even if it's just some stupid, spooky noise coming from the tops of the bookshelves.

  Reaching yet another junction, I make a random decision to turn left. After a few minutes, I reach another junction and turn right; at the next junction, I go left; and at the next, I go right. I've no idea how much time passes, but I'm starting to get tired and the sky seems to be darkening. I guess at some point the sun's going to go down, and I suppose I'll have to find somewhere to sleep. The most obvious solution would be to tuck myself into one of the bookshelves; I figure I can empty the books from one shelf and get right in deep. Hell, maybe I'll even manage to get some sleep if I -

  Suddenly, I hear it. A noise. There's absolutely no doubt this time: I heard something a little way back, and it sounded like something metal. Taking a deep breath, I try to decide what to do. If my subconscious mind is behind all of this, I wouldn't be surprised if it's come up with something pretty nasty. Then again, I'm pretty sure I can't die in my own fantasy world. As I'm busy making a decision, I spot something walking around the corner: to my shock, I realize it's the small, round creature who was in my house stealing books, and who knocked me out just before I arrived in this strange place.

  "There she is!" he shouts, pointing at me.

  Moments later, a tall man follows him into sight. Wearing what looks to be some kind of metal tunic and with a sword carried on his back, he looks like the kind of guy who'd be perfectly at home ripping people's heads off on the battlefield. And right now, he's staring straight at me, while reaching for his sword.

  Vanguard

  "What are you waiting for?" Sharpe shouts, punching my thigh. "Go and get her!"

  I carefully slip my sword from its sheath and prepare to strike. The human female is barely twenty, at most thirty meters ahead of us, but she's staring straight in our direction, which means we no longer have the element of surprise. She looks to be frozen in place with fear, which is fairly typical of her species. Humans are hardly known for their robust fighting abilities, and I wouldn't be entirely surprised if she fainted. Frankly, she is most likely stunned by the magnificence of my appearance; in the human world, she is unlikely to have ever encountered such a fine warrior as myself. Still, I would prefer to expend as little energy as possible while capturing her, so I'd rather not do anything yet that sends her scurrying away.

  "She's going to run for it!" Sharpe hisses at me.

  "Patience," I reply, keeping my eyes focused on the female. "I am an expert hunter. You, I must point out, are nothing of the sort."

  "If you lose her again..." he mutters darkly.

  "Human!" I call out. "My name is Vanguard! I am a Lord of the House of Lacanth. I have slain ten thousand men. I have led armies around the entire circumference of the Library, and I do not bend! Whether or not you have heard of my legend, you must kneel before me!"

  The human stares wide-eyed at me. It is impossible to miss the sheer terror in her expression.

  "Did you hear me?" I continue. "My name is Vanguard! I am a Lord of the House of Lacanth. I have -"

  "I heard you," she replies, interrupting me in a most infuriating manner.

  "Good!" I say, stepping forward. "Now kneel!"

  "Don't come any closer!" she shouts.

  "You misunderstand the situation," I continue. "I have identified myself. I am clearly your superior. If you do not kneel at this very instant, I shall be forced to interpret your behavior as a challenge to my status, and I will have no choice but to remedy the situation by removing your head."

  "Keep back!" she says, still moving away from me.

  "Kneel!" I shout.

  "Put that sword down first," she says.

  "There will be no negotiations here," I tell her. "Kneel before me!"

  "I'm not trying to negotiate," she says, clearly panicking a little, "but I'd really, really like it if you could put that sword down."

  "You have no choice
in this matter!" I insist.

  "Just put the sword down," she stammers. "Please..."

  "Kneel!" I roar.

  She stares at me for a moment, before turning and running away along the aisle.

  "See?" Sharpe says with a sigh. "Now you'll have to go after her."

  "No problem," I reply, starting to follow the human. I quickly get up to speed, bounding along the aisle with great speed. Humans are noted for their ability to run fairly fast, but this pathetic little creature will be no match for me. I'm already starting to gain on her, even as she attempts to lose me by turning left to go down a different aisle. Given my greater size, I'm a little slower at negotiating a change of direction, but I'm soon back on her trail. She turns right, then left, then right again, but as soon as I follow her around the final corner, I realize that she seems to have vanished. Standing still, I listen for the sound of her feet, but she's nowhere to be seen. My knowledge of humans is far from extensive, but I was not aware that they had any ability that might allow her to get away from me. I take a few steps forward, determined to work out where she has gone.

  "Face me!" I shout. "You can't run! Face me, and I will show you mercy!"

  Just as I'm starting to fear that she might, indeed, have escaped, I hear a sound behind me. I turn and see nothing, but finally I spot movement down near the ground and I spot her: she has tucked herself into one of the shelves, presumably in an attempt to hide from me. Her eyes stare back at me, and she clearly sees that I have caught her. In one final, desperate attempt to get away, she rolls off the shelf and out into the mud, before scrambling to her feet and heading back the way she came. Fortunately, I'm able to reach out and grab her by the arm, yanking her back and slamming her into one of the shelves.

  "Get off!" she shouts, landing a solid punch against my jaw; she's stronger than I would have imagined, but she's certainly not tough enough to cause me any problems. Smiling, I take hold of her by the shoulders and watch with amusement as she struggles to get free. It is almost as if I have caught some kind of particularly noisy bug, and I can take my time deciding when to squash her. After a moment, tiring of the continued spectacle of her pathetic attempt to get free, I decide that it's time to end this charade, so I take my sword, turn it around and smash the hilt down against her head, knocking her out cold. Her body goes limp in my arms, and finally I have her fully subdued.