This Is A Library

“Hmm,” I said, squinting at the little flames which formed the barrier. “A Flame Prison. Third Grade? Delacy’s version by the look of it. No. It’s not good enough to be Delacy’s. Herlald’s, then. Yes. Definitely Herald’s.”

“So what if it is?” His face contorted into a sour grimace. “It works just as well as Delacy’s!”

“The differences between Delacy and Herald are important, though,” I said. “As you would know if you had a copy of Fire Mastery by Berger and Spint. Having said that, I know you do have a copy of Luster’s Six Levels of Fire Magic, and there is a reference to at least two of the three vital differences. One of which is the temperature leak. If you keep it up too long, you’ll need a new Library…”

“Security will be here long before that happens!”

“And if they’re not?”

“They will!”

“Tch,” I shook my head at him. “If there’s one thing I know about Guild Security, it’s that they’re probably still trying to figure out where the Library is right now. If they get here before you burn the place down, it’ll be a miracle.”

“They’ll BE here!”

“The carpet is on fire.”

“I don’t need you to tell me!” He snapped a few words of power and a blast of water from his wand put it out. “I was going to deal with it.”

“If you want, I can wait while you cast a Delacy barrier instead,” I told him. “Or don’t you know how?”

“Of course I know how,” he shot back, though his ears were red. “But there’s no need. Herald’s is just as good.”

“Because it has a lower mana requirement?” I asked with a smug smile.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know very well what I mean, Mister Guile.”

“I don’t give a bloody teapot what you think, you raving lunatic!” Guile ground his teeth. “You’re only trying to make me angry enough that I drop the barrier. You’re trapped here, now. Security are on their way. You may have fooled the rest of the world into thinking you can use void magic, but I, Kelvin Frederick Guile am not so soft in the head. I know you’re nothing special. Yeltz’s Myths of the Fourth Age is very clear about such nonsense. Void magic is a sham!”

“Your Guild fees are a sham,” I snorted. “Especially if you think Yeltz is in any way a solid source of magical knowledge. The man was a nincompoop. If it wasn’t for the fact that he plagiarized Dougles, Linnt, and Ferner, all his books would be in the fiction section. Actually, the more I think about it, the more certain I am that they ought to be.”

“How dare you!” His face paled. “How dare you besmirch the great Yeltz’s name in my Library!”

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“I don’t know how many times I have to remind you people!” I hissed, giving him a good old-fashioned void-burning glare. “THIS is NOT a Library!”

He stamped his foot and waved his wand. “I won’t have it! I won’t! I’ve had enough of you spreading foul rumours about the quality of MY Library!” He aimed the wand at me, pulling his mouth back into an ugly grin. “I’m going to do the world a favour and be rid of you.”

He screeched words of power, his wand dancing intricate patterns as he summoned runes of fire in front of him.

I felt the rising sense of dread as the weight of magic descended on the Library.

Enid darted away to hide behind some bookshelves.

The remaining students finally got it into their heads to flee.

I lifted my hand.

“Slo’b n’tha Nobb,” I muttered with a bored wave of my hand.

From his wand a blast of fire slashed out at me with the heat of a thousand suns. A great crashing wave of flame which could incinerate me to the point that not even a single ash would remain. There probably wouldn’t be a scorch mark on the floor.

It tore through the air between us, entered the gaping hole which opened in front of me, and was promptly swallowed by at least one of the Old Twit’s many mouths.

As the tear closed, I thought I heard a deep rumbling burp.

“Hmph,” I said. “Minnow’s Solar Spear. Apprentice grade.”

“It is not!” Guile shouted. “It takes a true Master of Fire to cast it!”

“Absolute poppycock,” I said. “It comes from Minnow’s book Basic Dueling Spells for Novices. Hardly a master-level spell.”

“I’ll let Security deal with you,” he hissed. “I refuse to be drawn into your childish misinterpretations of magic!”

“Misinterpretations?” I took a step towards him and almost walked into the flame barrier. That might’ve hurt a little if I had. With an annoyed flick, I dispelled the barrier and stomped towards him.

“How-?”

“How did I dispel your feeble little spell?” I asked, looming over him. Letting my eyes burn with the fire of the void. “Easy, Mister Guile. I misinterpreted it.”

“That’s it,” he snapped. “I’ve had enough! I was going easy on you, you brat. But now? Now you’re going to get the full Guile!”

He lifted his wand.

I recognised the spell he was about to cast as soon as the first few words of power tripped over his tongue.

Jolley’s version of Supernova. Not bad. But hardly worth standing around for.

“You bore me,” I said. “Infix Inna M’ff.”

A portal ripped open behind him with a shriek of inhuman howling voices. Before he could think about spewing a spell from his ugly little mouth, a thick black tentacle reached out and whipped around his waist.

“Oh,” he gasped. “Bugger.”

And then he was gone.

Yanked into the void and delivered into the waiting maw of the Old Twit whose hunger knew no end. I felt a brief tremble of joy from the darkness, and the portal snapped shut with a wet chomp.

Followed by a sharp clatter as the wand, dropped from his fingers, fell to the ground at my feet.

I stared at it.

Then gave it a hearty good stomping to break it into little splinters with a lovely series of very satisfying snaps of wood.

Silence descended on the Library, as it should.

Even if the Library is as void of knowledge as this one, it deserved to be quiet. That was a rule even I didn’t like to break unless provoked by an overzealous librarian.

Enid’s head poked out from behind the shelves and she blinked at where Guile had been. “Taran? Did you… Did you send him…”

“Into the void?” I finished for her. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

“Oh.” She sighed. “If I’d known today was going to be this exciting, I would have brought some biscuits. This kind of thing always troubles my sugar levels.”

“Mine too!” I exclaimed brightly, pulling the jar out of my spatial bag and offering her one of mine. No one else had ever understood why I wanted biscuits at times like this. I smiled at her with a genuine smile. “It’s so nice to meet someone who understands me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” she said, taking a biscuit. She gave it a cautious glance, shrugged, then took a bite. “Hey, this isn’t bad.”

“My cook baked them himself,” I told her. “He’s always very generous with the chocolate chips.”

Then, feeling a bit lighter in my heart, I led us up to Level 17.