THE LIGHT OF A'LEST

CHAPTER 15

Cresting the final step, Enchantress Amara reached out, pushed on the iron ring, and waited for the massive door to creak open. She squinted as she passed over the threshold and began making her way to the other end of the chamber. Her footsteps resonated across the flagstones, growing to a deafening thud as she reached the waist-high railing and raised a hand. Embers appeared in the darkness; they danced about her fingers before launching themselves at a nearby torch. A dozen more cauldrons roared to life in unison. As waves of light illuminated the space before her, her breath caught in her throat. The Library of the Endless. She had visited quite often, but each time she did, the cavernous space invoked a sense of awe. Each one of the rock-hewn pillars that lined the archive's perimeter seemed large enough to support a mountain all on their own. There were hundreds of them.

     Unfortunately, lighting the massive space as of late had proven to be quite the problem. Without the light of A'lest to aid her, she had resorted to wasting her own precious resources just to keep her small work area lit. Shuffling over to the window, she leaned out and peered up at the gaping void where the light once stood. Chills ran up the back of her neck. It was as if someone had used a cosmic blade to excise the star from the heavens. It was darker now, sure, but the loss of Gaia's shield-light went way deeper than just the visible. Many in her order had already given up. Overcome by grief, they had chosen to hurl themselves from the tower instead of facing the future. She winced as she cut her eyes to the hundreds of once-fierce magic users, whose bodies now littered the ground below in bloody, mangled heaps.

     Still, there were others in her order who believed so deeply in their power that they petitioned the coven to the point of mutiny. These brave souls believed a defense could be erected in time to spare Tethra from Nedal's wrath. Shaking her head, she backed away from the window. Fools! She knew their only hope lay hidden. Lost somewhere within the miles of dusty tomes and manuscripts below. Moving over to the pile of crimson pillows in the center of the room, she sat and readied herself for the ritual. She slowed her breathing, focused her mind to a point, and then threw it at the darkness. "It's here... somewhere."

     She found comfort in the routine, but as the days turned to weeks and the sun rose, fell, and gave way to a crescent moon, even she was beginning to have her doubts. Three weeks had passed since A'lest had been destroyed, and in that time, she had barely put a dent in the archive. As midnight approached and she felt her powers dwindle, she grunted, took a breath, and rubbed her eyes. "I can't. It's impossible." The snaking rows of heavily lacquered shelves seemed to go on forever. Swarms of bats swirled in the distance, their screeches fading as they disappeared within the massive space, lending credence to the hopelessness of her cause. Thousands of years of recorded history, culture, and magic filled those shelves. Most so ancient, so degraded, they shattered to dust at the lightest touch. But that wasn't her only problem. The library proper was vast, but that didn't even account for the hundreds of private libraries that branched off from the main cavern. Each Spell-sealed by those in her coven to be used only when it became "politically" convenient. True, the mystic order was a powerful one. They possessed more Archaic knowledge than all of Gaia combined, but their true source of power was this vast archive. She whispered, "Too many secrets."

     Clenching her teeth and shifting on the pillow, she began again. Secrets or no, she had to keep trying. As her body rose, she again threw her arms out. Emerald tendrils began flowing from her eyes and leapt from her fingertips, separating themselves into millions of hair- width lines as they passed over the railing and soared out into the darkness. Reaching the shelves below, they latched on and began scanning hundreds of tomes in the time it took a man to turn a single page.