The Last Library Ch. 03

"It's a good thing we planned to stay here for the night," she agreed and helped him to crawl to his bed. She settled his pack underneath his head and, bringing her bedroll over to his, joined him on the blanket. She pulled hers over them and lay back. "This will keep us warm while we rest. If anything wants to join us from the other side of that door, they're not going to be able to do it quietly, so we should have enough warning."

Too weary and injured to add anything, Ashur closed his eyes and was soon fast asleep.

***

Two days later, they shambled into the house. The trip from the room to the traveling platform had been short, but slow and Ashur was able to rest again while Mera navigated them through the mysterious medium that only she could see. That, too, had been a longer trip since the tired caretaker had needed to stop often.

After they had both woken from their all too brief rest at their campsite, Mera was able to move more easily. The cuts inflicted by the nightmare creature had healed in her sleep but had left her drained. Being his crutch had exacerbated her exhaustion and she was soon in no better shape than he.

Now, Mera helped him to the bathroom, out of his clothes, and into the large tub. He was able to start the water himself but let her add the green powder since she knew the correct measurements. Leaning back in the soothing warm water, he was unprepared when the curative stuff started to work and his broken ribs snapped back into place. He cursed loudly and slammed a fist down on the edge of the tub. Fortunately, that was the worst of it and he soon settled back and dozed; able to endure the itching and burning sensations in his healing body.

Mera was gone when he woke and, after an hour without hearing anything from the other rooms, he climbed from the tub and made his way into the common area. Mera had passed out on the couch and he smiled down at her. Giving his ribs and torso a quick check, he decided that he was recovered enough and bent to lift her. She didn't even murmur when he placed her in her bed before shuffling off to his own.

***

Over the course of the next week, they both moved slowly, ate sparingly, and rested often in their own beds without much interaction. Eventually, they regained their strength, and started patrolling again. With two people hauling supplies, they were able to be out for longer before returning to the house, often for days at a time.

For several weeks they toured parts of the Library and, as they did, became more of a team. Ashur was learning Mera's mannerisms and cues for what was dangerous or not. Soon he began to enjoy himself on these excursions and the time with his hostess with one exception. During their recuperation, Mera would occasionally give him sad looks. They were brief and soon replaced by some other expression, but he noticed them nonetheless. The melancholy glances grew more frequent once the two of them were healthy and active again, especially during mealtimes or as they returned for the night. He wasn't certain what they signified but started to worry. Was he reminding her of her lost love? Was she upset that he had been hurt?

Whatever was bothering her started to put distance between them. Mera spoke less and less during their trips and, eventually, began to go straight to her room once the evening meal was cleaned up. After several nights of this, Ashur was not only worried, but slightly irritated. He had tried several times to get her to talk about her problem, but she had deflected, ignored, or flat out rebuffed his efforts. He wanted to help her with whatever it was she was going through, but he couldn't if she wouldn't let him.

He took to wandering local areas of the Library after she left him for the evening. He would try to read the glowing script on the bookcases again or visit the magical armory, often hefting and examining various precious items. Finally, one night, his steps led him to the colossal statue where Mera had explained Words and how she was protected by The Lexicon.

His approach brought him almost in line with the female half of the statue. Stopping far enough away that he could see her face, he noticed the myriad of emotions that were packed into a single expression. In that feminine mien, he saw empathy and compassion, courage and trust, determination and wisdom, but most of all, he saw hope.

"Hope for what?" he asked himself.

Knowing the reason for the Libraries, he first thought that maybe it was hope for the future; that the peoples of the world would live better with the knowledge on the shelves around him. But, as he stood immobile, the giant stone face started to resemble the blue woman now avoiding him. What did she hope for? For her destined Chosen One? For the end of her vigil? Or was it more basic than that? Did she hope for love? For connection?

He didn't know and probably never would.

Keeping his distance, he moved around the great hub until he was facing the male half. This side was easier for him to understand. The titanic visage held the same courage, determination, and wisdom of the woman, but he also saw honor, loyalty, and ferocity. Most of all, he saw in the man's face something that he had long ago recognized in himself: the need to protect.

When he was younger, he had thought it was possessiveness or simply an urge to fight and prove himself. However, as time and maturity reshaped his worldview, he had examined himself and found a compulsion to safeguard those who could not shield themselves. Once, during a more introspective moment, he speculated that this drive was what had made him enlist in the army in the first place but had realized that it ran deeper. It was part of his core; an instinct. He could no more deny it than he could his own life. All of his training, his weapons practice, his reflexive urge to help train younger soldiers to be better prepared, were part of this deep-seated need to shelter and defend.

Dropping his head and letting his shoulders sink from an unconscious parade rest, he gradually made his way to the base of the male guardian. As much as he wanted to be Mera's protector, he knew that he couldn't. He was ill-qualified to stand in front of her against danger. He didn't have her regenerative abilities which meant that she would constantly have to guard for his physical safety, distracting her from a fight. Enchanted weapons aside, he had no magic to stand by her side as a partner.

Placing his hand on the bare foot of the statue and looked up at it. He cursed the circumstance that had taken Mera's mate away from her. By all accounts, Colphon had been what she needed in a companion. The long dead Library steward had the abilities needed to complement her both in strength and power. More importantly, he had the blessing of the Library itself.

"Damn you for leaving her," the somber soldier muttered. "She needs you. She needs her partner. She needs someone to stand with her and I can't, though I wish I could. With everything in me, I wish I could."

He stood there a few moments more, letting his desire and yearning to be the guardian that the lonely woman deserved radiate from him into the air and the statue beneath his hand. With a final frustrated thump of his fist on the stone, he turned away and started to make his way back to the house. He would simply have to resign himself to returning to the world and forgetting about this wonderful place and the lady who made it even more so.

His momentum stopped abruptly at the sound of something hitting the floor. Thinking it to be some errant traveler that had somehow made it this far into the Library's core, he turned back toward the direction of the statue. Rolling near the base was a wooden rod about a foot long.

Ashur berated himself for knocking something loose from the giant sculpture and picked up the dowel. It felt solid in his hand and he hefted it a few times while looking upwards to see where it had fallen from. Several minutes of searching left him bewildered. As far as he could tell, there were no wooden parts on the monument. Looking down, he could see Words along its length, but he could not translate them. Resolving to confess his accidental vandalism to Mera in the morning, he placed the baton-like piece next to the man's foot and started back to the house.

He was brought up short when he heard it clatter to the floor again. Muttering under his breath, he picked it up and put it back next to the giant foot. As soon as he let it go, it started rolling away. Grabbing it, he tried several times to replace it, even putting it in other spots. No matter how he positioned it, the thing would not stay in place.

"Fine," he grumbled. "I guess you're coming with me." Twirling it absent-mindedly in his fingers, he made his way back to his bedroom and set it on the dresser where he could see it and remind himself to tell his hostess about the restless little thing.

***

His dreams were strange and dark throughout the night. Visions of demons and malevolent beings that his mind shied away from trampled back and forth in front of his eyes. In the distance, he saw a bright blue light that railed against the monstrous parade. It stood alone in the dark and held its ground, but it was just that: alone.

Something deep within him fought against that idea and he charged forward through the darkness. Swinging bare arms about him in an effort to join that azure glow, Ashur felt scrapes and cuts as he shouldered and shoved his way to it. Pain flared in his side from a gash made by the hooked carapace of an insect-like devil. His right hand bled from the fangs of something resembling the grotesque cross between a bear and a maggot. The fiends had been ignoring the dreaming man until now, but his movement through their ranks brought their attention fully upon him. More wounds showed on his skin, but he eventually made it to the small space occupied by the now dimming spark. Taking it in his hand, he cradled it to his chest and poured what was left of his remaining strength into it.

The glimmer did not grow so much as explode. Flaring into a colossal cerulean conflagration, the light roared out at the horde, burning out horror after horror. Suddenly, Ashur realized that the fire was no longer separate from him but blazed forth from the center of his chest and out through his arms. Feeling power fill his body, he methodically rid the space of every terrible creature.

As the last pained roar faded, he looked down in wonder at his hands. They flickered in blue flame and he raised them in front of his face. Movement in front of him caught his eye and he braced himself, preparing to fire off another blazing torrent. Before him, however, wasn't another nightmare creature, but a staff, hovering gently in the blue light.

Nearly six feet in length, it floated a few feet away from. As it spun slowly on its long axis, he saw Words engraved in glowing white wrapping around either end. Curious, he extended his hand to grasp the pole, but it shied away; staying just out of reach.

In his mind, Ashur felt the reason for its reticence. The staff required something of him. It required a commitment, a pledge. It recognized his need to protect, to guard, but it needed more. Would he be willing to sacrifice his life? Would he be able to give up who he was and who he might have been to a task that would garner him no glory, no riches, no fame? Would he take upon himself a burden that might break his mind and soul in time? A burden that no other would be able to shoulder for him should he flag. To be the guardian he wanted to be, would he accept this responsibility?

Without hesitation, the soldier held out his hand to the hovering staff. The force with which it flew into his outstretched palm made him wince. Suddenly, searing pain drove through his arm and into his body and brain as the blue fire turned to a bright white. He cried out into the darkness that surrounded him as the power of the staff raced through him. Where it flowed, it made changes. His body, starting to feel its age in human years, repaired the damage of four decades of hard life. Blemishes were smoothed away, aches in joints that had started to pain him in bad weather disappeared, and ancient wounds and their scars were undone. His muscles became denser and thicker and his skin tougher.

His brain burned as whispers began to invade his mind. Thousands of voices spoke to his tortured awareness in a rush of noise. One by one, they took their place in his sub-conscious filling him with knowledge and understanding. After an eternity of sound, the vast crowd suddenly stopped and a single deep bass rumbled through him.

"As you have agreed, so do I. Welcome Guardian. Defend well what we have wrought here for the sake of the world and all who live in it."

As the booming voice faded, so did Ashur's dream.

***

The next morning, with his head pounding from a restless night that he couldn't remember, Ashur stumbled into the bathroom without paying attention to his surroundings. He could remember post-victory battle hangovers that hurt less. Even the soft light from the walls drove pins into his eyes and the dull throb at the base of his skull felt like something was trying to twist the muscles there.

He made his way to the tub, turned the water to the coldest he could get it, and held his head under the spout until the freezing temperature started to make the rest of his head hurt. Groaning from the dull pain, he shut off the water and massaged his neck. He wasn't certain if he felt nauseous, but he felt it was better to be safe than sorry. Mera would be pissed if she had to clean up after him.

He kept his eyes closed against the light and crawled to the toilet. Resting his forehead on the front edge, he took a moment to gather himself then reached around the bowl to pull himself closer. Instead of hard porcelain, his hands found soft flesh. In his beleaguered state, it took him a moment to realize the difference. His hands patted legs and ran up and down them, attempting to catalogue the sensations before sending the information to his brain. Once it had processed, he slowly decided that something was off and that he should take a shot at opening his eyes to see what was blocking him.

Hesitant to cause himself more agony, Ashur slowly unsealed one eyelid then the other and lifted his head a bit. To his utter confusion, all he could see was blue.

"Fuck," he grunted, "muh eyes'r broken." Deciding the best course of action was to try again, he let them drop closed and took a few deep breaths. His second attempt wasn't any better. Still blue.

"Yup. Fucking broken." He winced as his own voice reverberated through his skull. The next sound almost put him into the floor.

"They don't look it from here." Mera's soft amused voice sounded like a battle horn as it roared down from somewhere above him. He whimpered and tilted his head back a little, resting his chin on the hard seat. She gazed down with mirth to where his face sat between her thighs and giggled. Practically in tears, the suffering man put his forehead back down on the seat, grabbed her knees, and tried to force her thighs around his head in a desperate struggle for quiet. He felt them shake and heard her nearly muffled chortling.

"What possessed you to drink so much, barbarian?" she asked him. To his eternal gratitude, she spoke quietly.

"Didn't," he grumbled. Mera raised his head enough to stand without being awkward and put the lid back on the toilet. Once it had settled, she let him rest again. "Didn't drink a drop. Bad night. Dunno if'm throw up."

Examining him with concern, Mera helped him to sit up and felt for tell-tale signs of fever or infection. Unable to find anything obvious, she momentarily left the bathroom and returned with a cup of water with something mixed in it.

"Whazziz?" He stared dubiously at what she offered him. "Poison?" He looked up her hopefully.

"No," she replied.

"Damn. Would've drunk t'poison."

Smoothing the wet hair back on his head, she gave him a little smile. "It'll help. I promise."

Wincing a bit at the movement, he tipped his head back and swallowed the contents of the cup in one large gulp. It was slightly bitter and burned going down.

"What happened to you?" she asked incredulously. "You don't feel like you're sick."

"Dunno," he mumbled. "Went to sleep. Bad dreams. Can't remember 'em. Woke up like dis."

"Well," she said with a consternated shake of her head," at least I get to put it off one more day." She took him by the arm and helped him stand. "Let's get you back to bed."

He slept for most of that day, throughout the night, and halfway into the next. Deciding that a little more rest couldn't hurt, Ashur didn't emerge from his room until the third morning to find Mera sitting at the table with a cup of tea.

"Good morning," she greeted him with a small smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," he responded. "Still don't know what hit me, though." He sat down across from her and put his face in his hands. "Our whole company got hit with food poisoning that didn't hurt that bad. Thanks for whatever you gave me that let me sleep."

"What I gave you should have had you running from one end of the Library to the other for an hour without stop. What do you remember?"

Pulling his face from his hands, he gave a small shrug. "Nothing much. I went to sleep one night and woke up the next morning like every hangover of my life had been rolled up into one and shoved into my ear sideways." Rubbing the back of his head with one hand, he gave her a heavily apologetic look. "Um...Sorry about the whole face in the toilet thing. I didn't even realize you were there."

Her laughter filled the room. "I got that feeling, barbarian. I have to say that, until I realized you hadn't been drinking, it was quite amusing to watch you stumble around. When you started heading my way, I wanted to get up, but I wasn't quite done yet. Be glad I was by the time you reached me."

The big man thumped his forehead on the table several times. "Ugghh...," he grunted. "So sorry..."

Eventually, she took pity on him and patted his hair. "It's ok. Once you said that no alcohol was involved, it stopped being quite so funny. What did you do the night before?"

He looked up her with a slight grimace. "Nothing. I went for a walk close by and came back. I went to bed and...well... you saw..." He pointed at himself in a haphazard way. "I feel like there was something I wanted to tell you about, but it wasn't that important and I can't really remember what exactly it was now."

She stared into his eyes as if looking for something, then stood up with a dismissing wave of her hand. "Well," she said," whatever it was, I'm sure you'll remember soon enough. Would you like something to eat?"

At his energetic affirmative, she proceeded to the kitchen.

Thinking back, he cleared his throat. "Um. I do remember you saying something about putting something off for one more day. Is it something you need my help with?"

In front of the pantry, the blue woman stiffened and then slumped. She turned back to him and waved her hand again. "It's nothing that can't wait another few days until you get your feet back under you. How do you feel about going back out again tomorrow?"

"Certainly," he replied. "It'd probably be a great thing to get my body moving after sleeping so long. What did you have in mind?"

"Nothing serious," she explained. "Just a day trip. We should be back before dinner." It seemed as though her amusement at his plight was short-lived because she spoke very little more while he ate.

***

The next day, they traveled again through the formless grey. Frustrated at being able to feel a bit of movement, but not see the pathways they traveled, Ashur once again brought along the book he had been working on. Almost immediately after Mera started their journey, he dove into it. Experience had taught him that there was no mental stimulation to be had in trying to guess what the caretaker must be seeing in order to navigate. As he read, however, slight flickers crossed his peripheral sight. At first, he paid them no mind, but after a while, they grew more pronounced and took more of his attention away from his reading.