Chapter Five
From a completed epic fantasy novel told across two time periods.
Erden
1348 (Thirty years prior to present day)
Drifting out of a daydream, Erden slowly began to realize he had been recording information he had not truly processed. It was not the first such occurrence. Checking the ledger, he saw that he had not made any errors with his notes, the lack of consequences all but ensuring further episodes of inattentiveness.
He had begun his employment at the Fostrilya Royal Library even before its construction was complete. When he learned that it was possible to earn a living amongst books, he was immediately and thoroughly enchanted with the idea. His parents were less enthralled.
His father was a person who was disappointed as though it was his primary character trait. Erden was sure the man had praised him at some point in his life, but in the way one is sure they had had dreams the night before even if they cannot remember them. A former soldier, he had made it clear from early on that he wished for Erden to follow in his footsteps. When his brother who was younger by six years had beaten him with a play sword, the last drop of hope his father had died a pathetic death. Having to admit that a position at the library was a good fit for his peculiar boy, his father sighed, relented, and shifted his hopes and dreams onto his other, more sensible children.
Stretching his arms, Erden rose from his stool and placed the documents he had been classifying into a cart before going about the task of placing the approved writings in the appropriate locations. He was not the one who sought out and collected these scrolls, parchments, tablets, and bound books. His role was simply to inventory and transport the works so that patrons of the library could locate them efficiently. Still necessary work, he often told himself.
As he lifted another book up to find its place on a shelf, the title caught his eye. Fables and Myths of the Common Man, a collection of stories that he had read dozens of times. It included his absolute favorite tale, that of the Forged Carapace, a mythical impenetrable armor. It was a story which he had read dozens of times, and in which he could effortlessly return to in his mind. This time however, as he flipped through the pages his thoughts turned in a different direction. Instead of images of epic battles where men covered in scaled armor cut through their hopeless foes, Erden was picturing a friend of his who shared his love for fantasies, and this story in particular. Where is she now, I wonder. Off on her own adventure, perhaps.
He first met Cupela during the nascent days of the royal library. From a tiny village in the far east of Vinredor, the young woman’s arrival in the city of Oslidor coincided with the library’s frantic and public gathering of tens of thousands of documents to position itself as the world’s greatest institution of knowledge. Having been raised in an environment lacking in reading material, and longing to learn all that she had missed in her isolated life, Cupela was in awe when she first entered the building. While she read up on history and philosophy, what captivated her the most were tales of adventure, battle, and magic. After noticing how she would spend entire days reading some of his favorite stories, Erden made a point of introducing himself.
A friendship quickly flowered, with both individuals gaining from the relationship. For Cupela, she had found a guide to the city and the formal academic world. For Erden, he finally had someone with whom he could share his love of fiction.
Over time however, Cupela had grown distant. Where once she had been a daily visitor at the library, she would now go weeks without making an appearance. More troubling to Erden was that she would avoid giving reasons for her absences, and would never give him a direct answer when he questioned when he would see her again. Though she would periodically appear, acting as though she still cared for their friendship, Erden was struggling to maintain his willfully optimistic view of the situation.
He no longer felt as though he knew her, but could not countenance the thought that she was maliciously evading him. Then what had spirited her away? What was responsible for her erratic appearances and behavior? If he asked her again, would he receive a sufficiently satisfying response?
Again pulling himself back to the present, Erden closed the book and continued on with his task.
The sun was beginning its descent, and the caretakers of the library were methodically igniting the dozens of torches ensconced on the walls when Erden filed away the last of the texts. His mother and father would expect him home soon. Having been ordered to collect bread and turnips for their meal, he knew he needed to move with haste. After returning his cart, he briskly traveled from the back of building through the ostentatious lobby. Enormous pillars of limestone created a perimeter around the spacious room while drawing attention away from the stacks of documents and towards a marble statue in the center of the floor.
Despite having passed this attraction thousands of times, Erden’s gaze was captured all the same, his mind contemplating the subject of the intimidating structure. The delicately cut masonry depicted the Divine King, Oslian Vindredor, in a triumphant pose. A handsome, athletic man who appeared to have recently entered his fourth decade of life, his right hand held high his legendary blade, Demonslayer, while a frightenedly grotesque decapitated head was cradled in his left arm. The artistry was so sophisticated and precise that each individual scale on the face of the demon could be seen.
There was a story as incredible as any that Erden had read. Though in contrast to the books he loved, this tale was true. The being had appeared suddenly, as if from the depths of the abyss, and slaughtered hundreds of citizens before the Divine King himself struck it down, cutting its head clean off. Thus, it was proclaimed that the gods had sent a test for the newly crowned Divine King, who at the time was the last of the Vinredorian line. His victory, when so many others had failed to slay the demon, had proven that his rule was to be unparalleled.
The Crown dubbed it Oslian’s Trial. The common folk knew it as The Bloody Horror. Erden had only been a boy on that day and he wondered if having been at an impressionable age when such a historic event had occurred was what led to his love of adventure stories.
He would have continued down that trail of thoughts if not for a voice, unexpected at this late hour, emanating from a side door. Halting so as not to make a sound, Erden listened attentively.
“With the others,” a man’s voice stated authoritatively.
Erden saw the familiar figure of the royal library’s director, Udesip surrounded by stacks of documents. Speaking to her was a middle-aged man Erden had seen delivering writings before. As he spoke, the usually imposing Udesip nodded her head vigorously, whatever emotions she was experiencing hidden behind her dark grey mask.
“I will bring what remains in the morning. You will have this completed within two passes of the moon,” the man stated. “I trust you have not depleted what I gave you.”
“No. Of course not,” Udesip quickly replied.
“Grand. In that case, I will be off. You have my utmost confidence, as always.”
“Thank you-” Udesip said, cutting off her final words, as though she had thought better of what she was going to add.
The man gave the slightest of nods before turning and walking out of Erden’s view.
Wishing not to be seen spying, Erden made for the main doors, pausing when he reached them. He waited a hundred heart beats to ensure he would not cross paths with the man who had delivered the documents before pushing the heavy door open and walking out into the evening heat.
The next morning, while he passed through the Royal District on his way to the library, Erden thought about the interaction he had witnessed the night before. There was a history of Udesip collecting entries for the library at odd hours, and at side entrances. Not for every delivery, but for some, as though those shipments required more security than others. Never before had he considered the peculiarity of Udesip’s actions for more than the briefest of moments. Afterall, she was an odd person, as were all the men and women from the independent city of Siviltesh.
Like most of the citizens of the three royal nations, he found their custom of covering their face with a painted mask as slightly off-putting, as though they did so in hope that their reactions could not be read. In addition to having her face concealed, Udesip always hid her entire body, save for her hands and neck, under the same nondescript, loose, flowing beige robe. Although she had been his direct supervisor for nearly three years, Erden had no idea what the woman looked like, having only seen her eyes.
More vexing, on the few occasions when Erden had come by to assist her during a shipment, or when he had approached her as she was looking through the deliveries, she always sternly hurried him away like a scolded child. He saw no good reason for her to dismiss him so. Her appointment as director of the library had preceded his employment by less than a season, and he had never made a major error. He could not even recall her criticizing his work. Still, she did not trust him. Was it just him, or did she trust no one? True she did not speak much, and he knew nothing about her personal life. If she had a family, she had never mentioned them.
As he considered this, he realized no one at the library was friendly, or even comfortable with her. When they spoke of her, they would refer to her as “The Lady,” and even though at least half of the staff were women, it was never in doubt of whom they were speaking. At the same time, no one would openly speak ill of her, at least not at the library, as though they feared she was always listening from just out of sight. Fear was an apt word. For while Udesip had never raised her voice at him, or threated him, he was nevertheless terrified of her. It was not the type of fear one felt toward a venomous serpent or an impending war. It was more sinister than that; the type of fear one was afraid of saying aloud, or even giving conscious thought to, for fear he would be cursed.
Upon entering the vestibule, Erden was relieved to see no sign of the library’s director. A glance at the side entrances showed that Udesip had already inspected yesterday’s delivery, the mass of documents no longer present. Anticipating this would mean a fresh set of items to catalogue, Erden made for his desk.
He was surprised to see the desk was empty. Perhaps she is still reviewing them. The crates where borrowed books were stacked were packed, however. He would have to fill his time recording their return and relocating them to their assigned homes. Time enough for his morning daydreaming.
The majority of the documents had been processed by midday, as good enough a point for halting for a meal as any. Thinking now of freshly caught fish from Thale’s Lantern, Erden tidied up his area before making for the exit. He had not made it halfway when a woman carrying a stack of books approached, her gaze shifting quickly from side to side. Could it be?
“Cupela.”
The woman stopped abruptly and turned to face him. “Happy noon to you, Erden. You look well,” she said in a thin voice.
He was about to say the same before he realized he would be speaking dishonestly. In truth, the young woman, who was nearly the same age as him, no longer looked so. With large dark circles under her eyes, and forearms he could wrap his hand around, she looked like a twisted children’s drawing of her true self. Having spent the past few months hoping she would visit the library, he now wished she had not.
“It’s been some time,” he decided on.
“Three seasons and eleven days,” Cupela replied, making what Erden believed was an attempt at a smile.
“Have you been traveling?”
This time it was Cupela who hesitated before speaking. “I have been busy with work,” she said, never once meeting his eyes.
“Ah,” was all Erden could think of to fill the silence.
“It is good to see you, Erden,” the young woman said, finally looking back his way. “I’m sorry that I cannot speak with you now, but I need to borrow a few books and I do not have much time.”
“I can help you with that,” Erden suggested. “What are you looking for?”
“I don’t want to trouble you,” Cupela replied. Then, making to walk away from the encounter, she added, “I will see you again. I do miss you. But today… I must be going.”
Though his father may not have believed it, Erden was astute enough to know he should press no further. And so he stood motionless as he watched her disappear into the stacks, feeling as helpless as a lost child.