"Wyvern´s Project 3" by Ben Cameron

A Change for the Books

Her fingers traced delicate paths down a scarred face. They lingered, for the briefest moment, over eggshell-white eyes.

“Reminiscence, Lilayn?”

She nodded at his gentle words, then jerked her hand down to her lap.

“You’re getting better, Tyme. I didn’t notice you’d entered.” Like the hint of an autumn breeze, her youthful voice carried an eternal tinge of sadness.

With an unconscious twist of her hands, she closed the oaken doors, the flurry sending the pages of open books tumbling over each other.

Peaceful silence descended across the room as Lilayn idly reached her fingertips out to the books in front of her. She felt, rather than read, the words imprinted there. Once again, she sensed the effort and midnight oil that had gone into writing these beautiful histories, biographies and treatises.

“There were a remarkable people. Brilliant, despite their failings.”

Tyme nodded slowly.

She lifted hand and head. “Come now, you must have opinions beyond that.”

“They were indeed remarkable, as this very library shows. For architecture alone, there are few across Carrun that would compare: flowing arches, detailed shelves, mosaics. Then there’s, as you’ve read, the works themselves; it’s wondrous. It’s a true shame their works will no longer grace history.” He paused, as the silence comforted them in their tribute. “But it is ever the wont of man to seek too much.”

“You’re as insightful as ever, dear friend.”

“But you called me for reasons beyond my opinion, I’m sure.” He took a seat next to her.

“A Treatise on the Deities,” she said after a lengthy pause. “That’s what this book is called. The Thyrians were closer than anyone, even I, thought possible, Tyme.”

“But you’d foreseen nothing… surely it’s just the ramblings of an overzealous scholar.”

“They used Forbidden magic, granted from the very ones they would have unleashed upon this world.” She closed the book with a sudden thought. Around, pages rustled in the uncontrolled magic that escaped her fingers. “They would have had this world destroyed – everything we know would have been turned around, the Kerell queendom overrun!”

She sensed Tyme blanching.

“Then there is nothing we can do to stop others from releasing hell?”

She shook her head slowly. Fleetingly, she cast her gaze out across history. In too many twists of time it appeared…

“This place must be destroyed…it’s the only way.”

Tyme gazed in astonishment around him. For such a historian as he, this was a treasure of the grandest dragon. “But Lilayn…!”

Lilayn slammed her fists against the table. “I know, Tyme! I can bear it as little as you, but for the better cause this must be done; not a single book can remain. We cannot allow our selfish ambitions to lead to the demise of a race. This knowledge cannot be allowed to fall into another’s hands.”

“Then…what needs be done, be done.”

Lilayn caught the faint breath of air that escaped Tyme’s lips, and the rustle of clothing as he stood and offered her his arm. Gracefully extending her arm, she stood in turn and held his arm lightly, impersonally, a volume in her left.

At the library’s entrance, Tyme let go to open the door. Wisps of flame leapt from Lilayn’s fingers and caught quickly on the ancient, dried manuscripts. The heat from centuries of knowledge touched against her face as the doors closed by themselves.

~ * ~ * ~
The roar of the crowd reached her ears with an exuberance that doubled to deafening volumes as she made the balcony. The primal rush their cheers stimulated was exhilarating.

Stretched out from the palace of Gaspah, it sounded like every soldier in the Kerell army had come. Though she had foreseen this moment six years ago from the start, it was a relief to have it upon her.

She held up her hand, asking for a silence quickly given by the crowd of victorious soldiers. Tracing quick movements, her fingers wove a spell to magnify her voice, so all in front could hear.

“My kindred, we have won the war…” They erupted once more into cheers and chants. She held up her hands again and again they quickly quietened. “My kindred, we have won, though at the cost of many lives. On both our sides.”

“It was never our intention for these men to return to the Creator, whether they hail from my banner or from Sabith’s. We have all lost loved ones and friends, and I would but ask for a moments silence in honouring remembrance.”

A hush descended with her bowing head. The few that broke the peace were nudged sharply into silence by neighbours.

She raised her head. “And we will remember them whilst we celebrate our victory, but not the victory of a personal success, nor that of our nation’s, but a victory for our children and their children against the destruction of our world that Sabith would have wrought.

“Our victory has come in the eyes of our Creator, for our Creator and for our children. Let us celebrate!” Her voice rose on her last words and was the first cry that crescendoed amongst many as men hoisted banners and began the first of many night’s revelries.

Lilayn turned back from the balcony, instinctually knowing where the doors were, to her more refined celebrations: a meal with her trusted generals and advisors. Still, it would be a joyous occasion.

The soft patter of leather shoes heralded the arrival of her apprentice.

“Ah, Jace. Your footsteps are as welcome to my ears as your face would be to my eyes.” Lilayn extended her arm for the girl to lead. Still two years short of the full eight of her tutelage beneath Lilayn and the Creator, she still held her vision in the temporal planes.

“You shouldn’t walk alone, it’s dangerous.”

It was slightly humorous, Lilayn thought, she being chided by a nine-year old. She grinned. Lilayn caught Jace’s brightened aura that suggested she too saw the irony.

“It’s good to see you smile. You’re too young to so serious so often.” Lilayn reached down to Jace and tickled her. “It’ll give you wrinkles.”

Jace laughed aloud this time, her childish innocence pealing down the corridor. “I can’t help it. I keep thinking of all that was lost.”

Lilayn’s voice grew serious. “But it was a necessary loss, Jace. Sabith and his priests would have unleashed their dæmons into Carrun. We have to understand this was a war to prevent future destruction.”

“But why not just the priests? Why everyone?”

Lilayn gently stopped their steps and knelt, her sightless eyes a breath’s width from Jace’s. “Had we been able to, that is indeed what we would have done. But they were well protected…there was no other way.” Her voice was soft with the thought of the dead.

Jace nodded slowly.

“Was there anything else? Or shall we make our way to dinner, dear child?” Lilayn stood, smiling gently.

Nodding decisively, Jace took Lilayn’s arm and led both towards dinner. Their footsteps echoed gently off marble floors, floating down the corridor. There, they were met by the hum of soft talk and the ringing of crystal glass that heralded the dining chamber.

“Here they come. Together, as usual.” Tyme raised his glass as the duo entered. “A toast to the Sera of the Creator. To past battles, present victory, and future governing.”

Cries of “Here, here!” and glasses chinking greeted Lilayn’s ears. A smile crept across her visage, and, for just a moment, the candles nearby flickered more brightly.

“Thank you, kind gentlemen and ladies.” She curtsied, ever the mistress of manners.

Led by Jace, she took the head of the table, seated on the right by Tyme and to the left, her young apprentice. “This is a time of great celebration. Let us eat and be merry.”

Sounds of eating rose with gusto around the hall as talk of the social and political benefits this would bring flowed softly between neighbours.

~ * ~ * ~
Trickling water played tenderly on Lilayn’s ears, preparing her for meditation. It had been difficult to find this natural spring, isolated from the bustle of life, in the midst of Gaspah.

One hand rested on the worn leather of a bound book, easily some few hundred pages of beautiful hand-written script. She let her thoughts go, releasing them to the playful water, and was cast back in time to the memories the book held within its weeks of time-consuming work.

With the power of the Creator, her thoughts swam through history, reading the author’s feelings as one would read the pages.

The water comforted her temporal body as her mind swept out of the author’s past, into history and time itself. Possible paths, previously hidden, filtered into view – histories that could be. She scanned each, walking down each fork in time, checking for remnants and offshoots of Sabith’s knowledge.

She was vaguely aware of Jace’s presence: silent footsteps, whispered thoughts, the damp wetness of a cloth pressed against her brow, but her mind remained firm on her task.

Where was it? That one thread…the future of Gaspah and Thyr.

Lilayn’s rapid mind caught the vague, flickering shadow of her own influence and hastened curiously down that path, unwilling to let it slip by unread. A smaller shape flitted about ethereally amongst hers. She peered a little closer; entangled in her shadow was that of Jace’s.

...but the time is too soon. Jace isn’t yet ready for joining with the Creator...

Lilayn paid more attention, concentrating entirely on this path. It grew more apparent that her role would be important, though with such a vague form, more ethereal than solid, it was impossible to deduce exactly what role that would be.

Still, Jace was needed, that much was certain. Her metaphysical eyes widened in surprised and



she awoke to the calls of morning birds wakening the sun. Within the protection of the high walls, Lilayn still sat in shade, the fine weave of lyra wool keeping the chill morning air and dew at bay. To her left, Jace breathed softly.

“You’re awake. Are we safe from them?”

Lilayn nodded curtly, attempting to calculate risk and gain in mere moments.

“Come.”

~ * ~ * ~
Lilayn caught the scent of ash as the vestiges of Sabith’s library fluttered in an ashy veil across Gaspah. Jace walked beside her, her small hand clutched in Lilayn’s. The footsteps sounded softly amongst the cries of festivity and drinking.

Learning out from the windows of houses and crowded against walls men still celebrated in a liquor induced haze despite the rising sun. Even within their drunkenness, the men thronging the road hastened out of the way as the two ladies moved through the streets, discussing intimate matters.

Lilayn held Jace’s hand as they walked. “She has called for you.”

“Already?” Jace gripped harder in surprise. “But there’s still two years left.”

“I know, dear. But She asked for it.”

Lilayn kept walked with Jace as she waited patiently for a reply then realised there wasn’t one coming. “Short of me, you know more than anyone of the Creator.”

“I’m still a child…”

Lilayn squeezed Jace’s hand. “The hardest part about following the Creator’s path is that so much must be based on pure trust. Trust that She knows the overall good, even when we cannot.

“Once in Her service, you will understand much more. Infinitely more. To be in Her service is to have great knowledge and power, yet at the same time, to shoulder great burdens and responsibility.”

“And if I can’t carry those burdens?” Jace’s voice was small.

“Trust, Jace.”

“But hasn’t She ever been mistaken her judgement?”

“The women and Queens of Kerell have born this responsibility without fail for the past two hundred years, each chosen and each successful. We must both trust that you, too, are capable of shouldering this responsibility.”

Jace closed her small mouth in hesitation. “I… I don’t think I could do what you’ve done. I couldn’t do it…”

“Neither could I, Jace, neither could I unless the Creator helped me. With Her wisdom and patience, I understood what need be done. As will you.” She stopped and waved at one particular building. “Come, here we are.”

The doors to the temple opened with a wave of Lilayn’s hand as they approached and they walked inside. Inside, candelabra flared into light as the two passed by and guttered to its death mere moments after their passing.

Lilayn walked into the final chamber, and sat calmly, stretching her body in preparation for tutoring in the arts of the Creator.

Lilayn sensed a small trickle of power emanating from Jace’s body. “What was that, Jace?”

“I can’t see. I need light.”

Lilayn sensed Jace’s power gradually brightening the domed room they sat together in.

“But you must. You will eventually lose all sight. It’s the price we pay for the gifts the Creator bestows upon us.” Though Lilayn knew the walls around to be covered in exquisitely carved shelves, crowded with the most valuable and precious books of her personal library, light was unnecessary with Her gifts. “You will learn much, knowledge and understanding that others simply can’t comprehend.”

“I’m not ready for this…”

“But you will be. Listen to me, and I’ll teach you.”

~ * ~ * ~
Lilayn woke from meditation to a faint noise. Here, in this most silent of sanctums. Nothing had been peculiar till now. The lesson, questions, then the usual meditation. Albeit each session had gone longer than usual, but then they were preparing for the ritual on the morrow.

She heard it again. The barest rustle of a page.

“Jace, no!” She spun her fragile body in Jace’s direction. “This knowledge isn’t meant for you yet!”

Lilayn received no answer.

“Jace, come here child. How much did you read? Perhaps I can explain it to you.”

Lilayn uncrossed her legs, pushing herself up in the same graceful movement. “These words aren’t meant for those not directly under Her command. Come, dear,” Lilayn held out her hand. “It must have been frightening for you.”

The soft patter of child footsteps graced her ears, softly receding down the columned corridor.

Lilayn immediately called out to her Royal Guards. Jace has run. Meet me at the Creator’s temple.

Still, perhaps not all was lost. Blindly, she moved herself slowly. The book was still lying open where Jace had been reading. She reached out a hand, instantly absorbing its contents: Past, Present and Future by Sera Lilayn.

Dusk’s sun was playing through the streets of Gaspah by the time Lilayn emerged from the cloistered chamber to be met by the Royal Guards.

“I don’t care how you do it. Do whatever it takes to stop our enemies getting her. The Creator and Kerell need her.”

“We’ve locked the city gates, Sera.” He bowed formally. “No one is getting out.”

“Fool, do you really think she hasn’t been trained? She has ample knowledge and ability to avoid simpleton guards.”

“Then, Serra, if she escapes, where will she go?”

“To where her home was: Roshta, Thyr. Send pigeons to your men, have them ready there.”