Cantrip Mage B1 C4: The Second Floor
~Chapter Four: The Second Floor~
Varin's library was shaped like a swirling conch shell, with four gates separating the upward spiral into sections. Eola hurried through the first section—the general public stacks that were divided into four sections, with reading and study desks in between them. That was all mundane academic texts, an occasional romance novel, cultists’ treatises on Y’aer, and boring stuff like that.
The good stuff—magical theory, combat magic, and so on—was more restricted than the books meant for the general public. And finding it was more dangerous.
Librarians stalked the first of the five floors, hunting what monsters slipped past the gate at the end of the first floor—and the ones that appeared naturally in what was supposed to be a safe area. They’d be helpful if she needed someone, except they didn’t enter the second floor all that often. That was what the whistle was for. If she found something she wasn’t equipped to handle, she was supposed to whistle and then try to survive until help came.
It was half of the school-issued equipment that every student brought into the library. The other half was a combination identifying badge and key.
Like all students at Varin’s, Eola wore a silver badge on her robe's right breast that told everyone her year, cohort, dorm room, and last name. It also carried an ensorcellment. A key. She’d clipped it to her armor when she’d gotten changed.
Eola spent fifteen minutes scrolling through the library’s first-year catalog and found three books that matched the research subject on her list. All three were in the beginning battle-magic section, Row Twenty-Three, Shelf Fourteen—and according to the magical book bound to a marble plinth at the first floor’s very center, all three were still available. There were several other books on other, related subjects, but the first three were her best bet.
Her badge glowed brightly as she approached the first gate and the librarian guarding it.
“Back again, Miss Lemiene?” The balding, white-bearded man leaned on a spear, armored from knee to throat. “Another all-nighter?”
“I hope not, Tagg.” Eola walked to the gate and pressed her badge against its center, and the silvered iron portcullis slid into the floor, opening the path through a long, dark tunnel. On the far side, the second floor awaited.
“You’re armed and ready. Good luck in there.”
“Thanks. See you soon.”
The portcullis slid shut behind Eola, and she crept forward until she found herself standing on the gently sloping marble floor of the first-years’ section, surrounded by books. Thousands of books in a hundred aisles, with a central passage splitting them in two. Each shelf was seven feet high—all the way to the low ceiling—and they’d been packed in as tightly as the library could fit them and still have room for monsters to move. There were supposed to be Bright Balls floating around, but they burnt out after a while, shrouding the shelves in twilight.
She summoned her own and threw it as far as she could down the main hall. It cast shadows down the rows as it flew, then stopped mid-air where the path’s curve cut her line of sight off.
“Time to get moving, Miss Lemiene,” Tagg said from the far side of the gateway.
Most schools used their dungeons as tests for their students. Only Varin’s used their dungeon as prep for their tests. Eola snorted to herself.
Then she nodded and set off without a reply.
Row Twenty-Three, Shelf Fourteen was her first target. Eola climbed the curving marble floor, her mom’s smallsword in front of her in First Guard and her casting hand wrapped around her dad’s wand. Her head swiveled between aisles, and her heart pounded in her chest as she counted the rows. Her first time in the library had been worse. She’d been jumped almost the moment the gate—
She stopped. A light flickered in Row Fifteen. Not a Bright Ball, either; where the Bright Ball looked like a cross between a balloon and a miniature, yellow-white sun, this one flickered like orange fire. “A monster? Already?” It’d be easy to ignore it. Nine rows were probably enough to give it the slip. But if not…if not, she’d have a threat behind her.
One deep breath to steady herself, and she peeked down the row of shelves.
Muted yellow scales. Vaguely lizard-like. Maybe six feet tall—almost a foot taller than Eola. Broad shoulders, but arms and legs that felt far too thin and long for their joints. Narrow eyes, staring at the books. And, of course, lots and lots of teeth. It carried a torch, so it was sapient—and might even have a fire or ash attunement. A trog.
Eola shivered; the thinking ones were the worst. Then she stepped between the shelves, wand-hand already drawing the Safe Shield symbol. The monster turned. Its nostrils sniffed, and its eyes went wide.
So did Eola’s. The trog reeked. She choked on her own bile, but kept herself upright as the trog hissed and closed the gap between them. Mom had drilled that much into her—lose her footing, lose her fight. She took a single, shuffling step forward, left arch slapping her right heel. Then she dropped into a stop-thrust.
The sword made contact. It punched into the thing’s gut, and the smell of mold redoubled as foul breath erupted from its maw in a howl. The Safe Shield rune hung in the air in front of her. The trog’s heavy wooden torch whipped forward. Eola ducked behind the symbol, releasing enough Mana to fill it three times over.
The Safe Shield solidified. The trog’s blow slammed into it, a foot from Eola’s head. Sparks rained onto her braided hair. Eola bit back a scream of her own and moved her wrist, sketching a new rune as the trog recoiled and swung again and again. A raindrop symbol, with two more drops in the middle. Well Water. A simple cantrip, but one that’d take the trog’s main advantage away—and save her hair.
Small victories.
Safe Shield buckled, then broke. Well Water finished above Eola as her black hair smoldered. Then it collapsed, and she gasped as her whole body was drenched in icy-cold water. The trog pressed in. Eola lunged again, then a third time, and the monster faltered. It dropped to a knee, howling wordlessly, and Eola thrust her smallsword through its throat.
It dragged Eola’s sword down as it collapsed, then slid off the blade. She didn’t move. The fight had been closer than it had any right to be. Sure, it had been quick and simple. Her second battle in the library had been a running fight against a half-dozen trogs all the way from Row Thirty-Five back to the gate, blowing furiously on her whistle the whole time until Tagg crashed into the last four monsters and wiped them out with a Second Order spell that shot calcified spikes through them. But quick didn’t mean safe, and she’d been lucky. Another half-second, and the torch would have crushed her chest or skull instead of the Safe Shield.
She could have died.
Eola watched the thing’s body for a full minute, letting herself turn angry instead of scared, before she moved. Then she marched back to the gate, her face hot and her breathing fast. Dark, red-brown footprints stained the tiled floor everywhere she stepped, but she didn’t care. She stopped at the iron portcullis, hands on her hips. “Didn’t you hear all that, Tagg?”
“’Course I heard it, Miss Lemiene,” the old librarian said casually.
“Then why didn’t you help me?”
Tagg stared at her, still leaning on his spear. “If you don’t blow the whistle, we don’t come running—no matter the monster. Those are the rules. You’re a competent enough girl to know that. Now get in there and find your study materials. My shift ends in an hour, and I’d like to know you’re safe before then.”
Eola huffed, turned on her heel, and headed back into the library. Tagg was right. She had work to do.
◄▼►
Eola pulled herself together quickly. Yes, she could have died. And yes, trogs were horrible, gross creatures. But she’d also fought the reeking monster about as poorly as she could have. She’d given the disgusting thing almost three seconds to react. Next time, she’d be faster. Next time, she’d have the Safe Shield cantrip finished and ready for Mana before she stepped into the row. She might not have the First Order spells that’d really make a difference, but she could take care of herself.
Besides, Tagg was right. The rules were the rules, and the library wasn’t a safe place. She’d been careless, and then she hadn’t blown the whistle. He was a Truemage, able to cast Second Order spells easily, Third Order ones with difficulty, and with a soul as big as hers—and an attunement. Eola suspected it was Spears or Stone.
Row Twenty-Three, Shelf Fourteen. Row Twenty-Three, Shelf Fourteen.
When she passed Row Fifteen, she tried to breathe through her mouth. No point—the dead trog’s stink was already wafting through the shelves in every direction. It got in her throat, and she gagged a little.
Then she was past it. One more Bright Ball down the rows, and she broke into a fast trot. Not a run. Running attracted things in the library. But about as quickly as she could safely cover the distance between Row Fifteen and Row Twenty-Three. It still took a good minute to cover the eight rows, though. Eola hadn’t wanted to leave a monster behind her earlier, and she didn’t want to now. Look left, right, left again, cross. Repeat.
A light flickered in Row Twenty-Three. Another monster? Eola readied her smallsword and traced Safe Shield in her casting hand. First Guard. The rune finished, and she stepped into the carpet-covered space between the shelves.
“Who’s there?” a girl’s voice asked. It was a little wispy, like there wasn’t enough breath behind it. Eola didn’t react, except to take a single, precise step further into the row. The shelves seemed to arch in over her head as she inched her way past the first few. Five in, she caught sight of the owner of the voice.
She—no, it. Until Eola could confirm the pile of person-shaped robes was a student, she wasn’t willing to risk it being a monster. It sat at the bottom of Shelf Eight, three shelf-lengths away. She caught a flash of red-splattered skin and even brighter orange hair, but that wasn’t enough either. “Badge.”
“One second.” The pile of robes shifted, and Eola stiffened. Her sword went up, and the Safe Shield filled with Mana, shimmering between her and the possible monster. Then a hand—a very pale hand—came out, holding a student’s badge. It tossed it toward Eola, but the motion was poor, and it only made it halfway.
Eola crept forward, passing her Safe Shield, and fished the badge to her with her sword tip. “Clerk? First year?”
“Yes, that’s me,” the girl said. She tried to adjust herself again. “Patrice Clerk. Got sucker-punched. Monster’s just down the row. It’s something Clearance hasn’t taught yet.”
“Ah.”
Eola started toward Patrice, but the girl raised a bloody hand. “It’s by Shelf Sixteen. I hit it pretty hard, but I don’t know if it’s dead.”
The implication hung in the air. Patrice couldn’t do it herself. “Attunement?”
“I’m a cloth mage,” Patrice said.
“No whistle?”
The pile of robe and cloak shrugged and hissed painfully. “Y’aer-cursed monster ripped it off my chest.”
“Okay. I’ll be back in a minute.” Eola stepped over the hurt student and down the row.
But when she got to Shelf Sixteen—just two past her target—there wasn’t anything there.
Eola paused for a moment. Then she drew a new symbol in the air. The Forsooth Script rune looked a little like a bell, complete with handle and ringer. Chime Clap. All the Child’s Magic spells had stupid names, but this one would actually be useful here. It was an alarm; if the monster came back, she’d be able to react. She only didn’t use it in her room because she was never there to hear it anyway.
She spent fifteen seconds scanning the shelves, counting under her breath. Evander’s Guide to Battle-Marks, a pale green tome no thicker than her pinkie was wide. Combat Tricks, by Tiphane, a brown, hand-written notebook with a single red mark above Tiphane’s name. Neither book was bigger than her two palms together. There was one more Eola desperately wanted from the beginner’s battle magic section, but when she got to the spot it had to be, Dualiste Principalis was gone. Annoying. The catalog had said it was checked in. She shrugged, dropped them into the bandolier pocket next to her spellbook, and hurried back down the aisle.
Patrice was waiting on the floor when she got back. “You find what you wanted yet?”
“Mostly.” Eola knelt, tucking her wand into its holder and helping the older girl to her feet.
“Great. Let’s get out of here.” Patrice grunted, and so did Eola. Now that she was on her feet, Patrice’s full extent was more obvious—she had a good five or six inches on Eola, with weight to match. “Are you a bookworm? Is this going to screw up your studying?”
Eola didn’t say yes, but she was thinking it. There were a half-dozen other books on her list. “No. I’ll check these out and bring them back to my room. I’m Eola Lemiene. What were you doing in the battle magic section?”
She regretted it almost immediately. Patrice was heavy, and she wouldn’t stop talking except to suck in pained breaths. “A suite mate wanted to know about attunements, but she’s an even worse combat mage than me. She asked me to get The Attunement Compendium, Thirty-First Edition off Row Twenty-Three, Shelf Twenty-One. I got it, Y’aer curse it. Now she’ll owe me. Of course, we’ve got to make it out of here first. Do you know much about attunements?”
Eola shrugged—an awkward motion with Patrice’s weight on her shoulders.
“Ah.” Patrice went quiet for a moment. But only for a moment. “Do you have anything to drink?”
“Water. Back at my room.”
“Y’aer curse it.”
Moving slowly, it took Patrice and her somewhat unwilling savior almost five minutes to cover the distance back to the gate. Eola was out of breath by the time the gate creaked open and Tagg grabbed Patrice’s other arm. “No whistles, girls?”
“Hers got lost—monster attack. After I found her, it wasn’t an emergency anymore,” Eola explained. “Something Patrice hadn’t seen.”
Tagg nodded. “We’ll check it out. Probably a phantasm or something. They’re tricky. Or a second-floor monster that slipped through the gate. I’ll take it from here.”
A new rune flickered to life at the tip of the old librarian’s spear. Eola recognized it and stepped back quickly; the last thing any of them needed was for an errant hand to block the healing path and end up on the wrong person. The spell finished, Mana poured into it for almost ten seconds, and Tagg finished casting the First-Order healing spell.
First Order healing, especially the non-ritual kind, wasn’t very effective, but it’d get Patrice safely to the hospital, and that was all she needed. The tall redhead relaxed a tiny bit as it took effect. “Thanks. And thanks, Eola. I’d have been in trouble if you hadn’t shown up when you did.”
“It was nothing,” Eola said. It wasn’t, but she’d done the right thing, and she’d gotten enough out of the library for now. She pulled the two books out of her pocket and held them out to Tagg. “I’d like to check these out.”
