Chapter 21

Silence. Brynn savored it for a moment. Then the shouting, the screaming, and the wailing intruded into his numb thoughts. He listened to the noise while kneeling on the sagging floor of the library, surrounded by the smashed remains of books and bookshelves. Huge sections of the roof were missing. All the glass windows had shattered into thousands of tiny knives that coated everything. From the open windows and holes in the roof, he could hear Galdur’s population finally reacting to the disaster.

He found that he was still giggling, although he couldn’t fathom why. Maybe he was just deliriously happy that he was alive. He awkwardly cleared his throat to stop himself. With a heavy sigh, Brynn plucked Themon’s dagger out of the Codex, stood up, and made his way over to Sibila. The tower groaned sickly in response, signalling its imminent collapse. Sibila twitched slightly, involuntarily. If he left her here, she would surely die.

She had tried to kill him.

But why? She must know about his promise to surrender his voice to Kodroth. She must have thought that she could end Kodroth’s plans by permanently silencing Brynn. She had been trying to save the world, Brynn realized grimly. He wasn’t sure he could fault her for that.

He was going to have to carry her out of the Library. When he had carried Seleeku into Grimcairn, he had been driven by shock and fear, but now … he would need help. He looked through a hole in a wall and into the anteroom. To his dismay, it was empty. High Druid Jelma and the guards had fled. He would have to carry her out himself.

Brynn clumsily tried to lift her up. He told himself that it was just like lifting the sacks of grain he did as a steward at the College, except this was an extremely large and floppy sack of grain with arms and legs dangling everywhere. After several agonizingly slow and difficult attempts, he finally succeeded in positioning her across his shoulders. His body wobbled precariously before he was able to find his footing. The tower rocked softly to the rhythm of his steps as he plodded out of the library and into the anteroom. Wood and stone moaned in eerie complaint.

He slowly clambered down the narrow stairs of the tower, twice nearly pitching himself and Sibila into the dark emptiness of the central stairwell. By the time he was at the ground floor, his legs were trembling and his heart felt like it was about to burst. He took in deep, ragged, painful breaths and shuffled his way through an opening in a broken wall and out into the environs of the city.

He kept going. If the tower collapsed now, it would crush him. He called out to the tower’s broken spirit to hold out a moment longer. Just a moment longer!

He stumbled a few more steps and fell to his knees. He wasn’t going to make it—

—suddenly he felt Sibila’s weight lifted off his shoulders. He was picked up and roughly carried away from the Library towards a nearby square. He looked up briefly, just in time to see a stiff breeze nudge the tower in his direction. It toppled over with a thunderous roar. But he and his rescuers were far enough away from it now to avoid the heavy debris. All that reached them was a thick cloud of dust that temporarily caused everyone to react with a fit of coughing.

Two men lay Brynn down on the cracked stone of the city square. He recognized them as gardeners from the Druid’s park that he had been in earlier in the morning. They looked at him anxiously, but he waved them off with a shaky hand. “I’m fine,” he croaked.

They needed no further reassurances. There was too much to do. Too many other souls to save. They hurried away, intent on helping those who needed it most.

Sibila stirred next to him, convulsing and letting out a painful wail. She opened her eyes, her dark orbs focusing on him, not with anger or hate, but with sadness and despair. Was it she who was staring at him, or the Darkness? Before Brynn could even respond, her body went slack again and her eyelids fluttered shut as she drifted back into unconsciousness.

Brynn pushed thoughts of the Darkness out of his mind and instead sat up and surveyed the square. The able-bodied were bringing the injured here to be treated by druids specialized in the healing arts. Every building around the square had been damaged or destroyed. Half of the College’s Main Hall was now rubble. He stood up and tried to look further out into the city. He could see smoke rising in several areas from fires that could easily consume all of Galdur if they weren’t put out soon. A portion of Arkesh Castle, where the King resided, had caved in. Past the city, in the mountains, landslides had buried small farms and at least one village.

You will make the earth tremble. Was that even a prophecy? What had he done to cause this earthquake? Reading some blotchy words in the margin of a book? Was all this his fault because of his desire to read the Codex? How was he to know this would be the consequence of his actions?

It was irrational, but he still felt responsible. He had decided to pursue the Codex. Maybe if he had followed Seleeku and left Galdur with her, he would never have read the prophecy and this disaster would never have happened.

Seleeku. He could only hope that she was safe. He needed to find her. He didn’t know why. Maybe to apologize. But not now. That was for later. There was something more important for now.

He needed to help Galdur.

---

Brynn flopped down on the ground, propping his back up on a stack of broken timbers that had once held up a unfortunate family’s home. The sun was descending. The day was spent. He was exhausted.

He had initially tried to help rescue people trapped under the debris of fallen buildings, but eventually found he had more success in assisting the fire brigade. He had learned long ago that fire spirits were wild, voracious, and uncontrollable. There was no point in trying to communicate with them to attempt and stop them. But by listening to the roar of the blaze and the flicker of the flames, he could sense where they wanted to strike next.

At first, the brigade wouldn’t follow him. He was in his peasant clothing, so what authority did he have? His talk about spirits didn’t help. In the end, he found different ways to explain his prescience, and after a few successes, they saw the wisdom in heeding his words and were able to prevent the fires from spreading.

Smoke still rose from a few smoldering remains, but Brynn was relieved that Galdur had not been consumed in a conflagration. He was hungry again, but fatigue enveloped him. He could not move. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander.

He thought about Themon. The old druid had written those prophecies in the Codex. Seleeku wasn’t the only who received prophecies. What other prophecies did Themon know? Is that why he had acted so odd sometimes? How many other people were prophets? How many other people could see the spirit world like he could? Would he ever meet those people? What would their conversation be like? Would they understand him? Maybe he should seek those people out. He needed to seek out Seleeku. Seleeku needed help. No, he needed help. He need to apologize to her. He was wrong about the Codex. Nessana was in trouble. In the Far Forest. Where the Hollow was. Was it a Hollow? The Hollow had his notes. His notes about the Fence. What was the Fence for? He had lost a day. A day. Six more days left. Six more … days … a day … need … to find …

---

“We regret the past, we fret over the future, but we forget about the present. What do you think, Backstabber?” Kodroth sat next him, leaning against the same stack of timber, which creaked piteously under his weight.

“My name is Brynn.”

Kodroth chuckled. “You literally stabbed me in the back. You betrayed Brightmyst, or at least they think you did. You betrayed Seleeku. You betrayed Galdur. You seem intent on betraying the world. Backstabber seems appropriate. More than appropriate, if you ask me.”

“My name is Brynn,” Brynn repeated. “I don’t remember stabbing you in the back. I don’t remember what happened in Brightmyst. I didn’t betray Galdur. How could I know what would happen? And I have no intention of betraying the world. And Seleeku …” he trailed off, remembering how he left her on the mountainside of Abon. “I made a mistake.”

“No intention of betraying the world, eh?” Kodroth replied. “Are you prepared for the ultimate sacrifice, if you have to?”

“Death won’t absolve me of my vow to you. You know that already.”

“If you say so,” said Kodroth, shrugging. He turned his attention to the damaged city and studied it before speaking again. “Tell me, Brrrynn,” he trilled the r mockingly. “How long do you think now takes?”

“Huh?” Brynn sighed. He was tired of Kodroth’s ridiculous philosophical games.

“Now. The present. How long is the present? Think about it. Let’s say I want to get from here to there.” Kodroth pointed at the remains of another building further down the street. “I have to take steps.” He stood up and took few deliberate steps forward, putting one foot directly in front of the other, as if he were walking on a tightrope. Then he pointed towards his imaginary destination. “That direction is the future.” He pointed back to Brynn. “And that is the past. Where I am is the now.”

He took a few more steps. “Each step takes me closer to the future and further away from the past. Each step is the now. How far does each step take me? How long is now?”

“Why is the question so important to you?” Brynn asked, yawning.

“The great druid mystics advise us to live in the moment. How can I do that when I don’t know how long a moment is? Am I living in the moment now? How about … now? It’s very puzzling.”

Brynn attempted to change the subject. “I’ve been told that you know a lot about prophecies. Have you ever heard of the same prophecy coming true twice?”

Kodroth turned his giant, bloated body to face Brynn. “I know many prophecies, but less about them than you might think.”

“You will make the earth tremble,” quoted Brynn. “I believe you know it.”

“Hmm, perhaps. It does sound familiar,” Kodroth replied vaguely.

“High Druid Themon told me a story of a fool who accessed the Old One’s prophecies. The fool read that one and caused an earthquake in Freefield. I believe that fool was you.”

Kodroth took a step closer to Brynn. “The High Druids say that the prophecies are cursed. They are too dangerous. No one knows what damage they could cause. Better to keep them locked away forever, unread and unknown. Bah! They are simply afraid, Brynn. Afraid of the Truth! Here, I’ll tell you one that you haven’t heard.” Kodroth put his hand on his chest and recited a poem as if he were a bard on a stage:

Go to the land of misty bright.
There you will pillage, as is your right.
Once you are alone, you will find your slayer.
This man, indeed, will be your savior.

Brynn frowned. Were all poem-based prophecies so painfully bad? He tried to remember what had happened in Brightmyst. Shaman Edda had told him that Kodroth had broken away from the fight at the docks to run into the village square. Brynn had been found in the square, knocked out by Kodroth. Was Kodroth saying …

“Yes, Brynn, you killed me. Stabbed me in the back. I didn’t die right away, of course, but the wound was fatal enough. My bones are in the Far Forest now.”

“But … but …” Brynn sputtered. “How am I your savior?”

“You will be my voice! Don’t you see? Themon removed my tongue after I read your little prophecy. I didn’t even know why at the time. It made no sense! Why would he do that? Because of a different prophecy, that’s why. One that I learned later. You know what it is, don’t you?”

Brynn nodded glumly.

“Themon thought he had spoiled my plans. He was wrong, that stupid old man. I have you! You’ve saved my plans. You’ve saved me!”

“How do you know the prophecy is about you, Kodroth? Why not someone else?” Brynn countered.

“The prophecy isn’t about me, dear Brynn.” Kodroth strode up and tapped him on the forehead, causing his mind to shiver.

“It’s about you.”