The Library - The Complete Series (33 page)

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, dismissing 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."

"But the Forbidder are going to take her," Reith says. "It's too late, Vanguard. They're going to take her away and hold her on their world."

"Not if I can give them another target," I say. "Not if I can make them
want
to do something else. I need to show them something that will change their minds." Looking up, I think of the eighth world, a dark sphere hiding in the void. "I need to make them see," I continue, "and then once they're gone, I need to ensure that Claire's blood flows through the soil."

"Vanguard -" Reith starts to say.

"We're not witnessing the destruction of the Library," I say, feeling the most intense sense of awe wash over my body. I turn to look at the storm ahead. "We're witnessing its rebirth."

Book 8:

Rise of the Forbidders

Prologue

Many years ago

"Hey Claire," says my uncle, wandering into the study. "What are you doing in here?"

Looking up from the pile of books, I start to worry that I'm in trouble. After all, my parents always tell me that my uncle is fanatical about his book collection, and I don't have permission to be in here. Filled with a sense of panic, I close the book I was reading and hurry back over to the shelf.

"It's okay," he continues. "You don't have to be scared."

I carefully slot the book back into position. There; he can't be too angry, not if I've put everything back to normal.

"You like books, huh?" he asks, watching me from the doorway. In a strange way, he seems almost proud of me, as if he's glad that I've been drawn to the library.

I nod.

"It's your fourth birthday coming up soon," he continues. "Maybe you'll get some books as gifts."

I smile politely.

"It's okay to be in here," he says. "You should never feel bad about spending time in a library."

"I just like the books," I reply.

"Have you ever thought what it must be like to actually
be
a book?" he asks, coming over to join me at the shelves. He pulls out a book and look at the cover for a moment. "Imagine spending most of your day just sitting around between other books, waiting for someone to come and read you. It must be a pretty strange life." He looks down at me. "Do you think a book likes to be read, or do you think it's a horrible experience?"

"I think they like it," I say.

"You do?"

I nod. "They get to sit on a shelf all day with their friends, and then sometimes someone comes and looks at them and reads them."

"You're probably right," he replies with a smile. "Books contain knowledge, Claire. If you know something, don't you enjoy sharing that knowledge with other people?"

I nod.

"I just wanted to know if you could imagine being a book," he continues. "It's quite a strange thing to imagine, really. A book is very different to a person. Do you think there's any way that a book could become a person, or a person could become a book?"

I shrug. Sometimes my uncle is pretty weird. He seems to be obsessed with books, as if they're all he thinks about. I guess he's happy, though. He works as a librarian at the local university, and his home is filled with books from floor to ceiling. There are so many, they're even piled up in the hallway. The weirdest thing, though, is that I've never heard of any of the books. I guess they're all for adults, but they have such strange titles. The one I was just looking at, for example, was called 'A History of the Grandapams', and it made no sense to me at all. I just liked looking at the maps, one of which showed a huge library.

"How's your back?" he asks after a moment.

"It's okay," I say.

"I noticed you seemed to be a little stooped," he continues, with a look of concern on his face. "Do you have any pain?"

I shake my head.

"None at all?"

I pause for a moment, and then I nod.

"I think you should get it checked out," he continues. "There's a condition called scoliosis that can sometimes cause problems with your back. It's not serious, but it's less painful if it gets looked at nice and early."

"Okay," I say, not really understanding what he's talking about. Still, I like my uncle. He seems to genuinely care about other people.

"I need to speak to your mother and father," he says, seemingly lost in thought. "It's possible that your spine can't handle your new form. What about you eczema? Does that keep coming back?"

I nod again.

"Your pages are drying out," he continues. "I guess this is all to be expected, though. After all..." He pauses for a moment, as if he's trying to work something out. "Don't worry," he says eventually. "I'm sure we can fix the problem. It's still early days so far."

"Can we go to the big library?" I ask suddenly.

He stares at me, as if I've just said something completely shocking. "What big library, Claire?"

"The one in the books," I continue. "The one that's as big as a whole world."

"I..." He smiles awkwardly. "Do you think such a place could ever exist?"

I nod.

"Do you remember ever being at such a place before?"

I frown for a moment, and then I shake my head.

"If there
is
a big library," he continues, seeming a little relieved, "I'm sure you'll get there one day. After all, you seem to love books very much. But for now, I think you're going to have to be happy with small libraries. Normal libraries. Is that going to be a huge disappointment?"

I shake my head.

"Okay," he says, reaching down to take my hand, before leading me over to the door. "Come on, Claire. Let's go and find your parents. I want to make sure they're aware of your back problems. After all, the spine is the part of you that holds you together. If a book loses its spine, all its pages fall out."