I doubt he will do it, but I just thank him because that’s considerate of him. I’ll make sure he rests, though. We have quite a way to go.
It’s still strange, having him around, as strange as this impromptu, dangerous journey. I fight the sense of safety he offers, one I haven’t felt since I was a child and he was my protective big brother. Now I’m an adult, I’ve figured out how to look out for myself, and something tells me I can’t afford to let my guard down.
Don’t be paranoid,I tell myself.Who knows? This journey might prove to be not so difficult after all. Eiras has this undercontrol. He knows the routes, the towns, the people. We don’t need to perform extraordinary feats or become heroes. Only reach the mountain, drop off the book, and come back. As simple as that.
It sounds so easy.Tooeasy. What sounds too easy is usually a trap. Quicksand. A snare. A mortal eddy.
I’m overthinking this already.
The caravan departs at dawn, leaving the busy neighborhoods and the noise of the capital behind. I spend most of this first day twisted around to watch the houses and temple spires disappear little by little. Quiet slowly settles over us, broken by the occasional chirp from a bird or the roaring passage of a winged dragon overhead.
My first day outside of Siris.
My first journey.
If only the circumstances were better. If only the destination wasn’t a mythical and yet all too real library of horrors.
“It is a horrible place,” Olm agrees in my ear, a hiss in his voice. “Terrible. Hazardous. Impossible to escape. Going there is a bad idea.”
“You already said that. And you’re exaggerating.” I settle the satchel at my feet. “We’re going to the library and that’s final.”
“You’re making me sad. I’m only looking out for you. You’re a frail human girl and the horrors you will face inside, if you even make it there… It breaks my heart for you.”
“You don’t have a heart. You’re a book.”
“No,” he says, voice hardening, “I’m a story. I’m a person, not only pages, ink, and a cover.”
“Of course not.” I pull my mantle up to my chin against the cold. “You have magic. And magic is dangerous, if history has taught us anything.”
“Magic is in everything,” Olm counters. “It’s what creates and sustains life. I’m not an evil king out to conquer and plunder.”
“I don’t know who you are. I know so many stories from this world and others, but I’ve never heard of your book.”
“Some stories,” he says quietly, “have many titles and many incarnations. And some fall into obscurity together with their characters.”
“Are you talking to… that book again?” Eiras is walking right beside the cart. With his blond hair caught back at the nape with a ribbon and his dark traveling clothes, he could be a prince in disguise. “What is it telling you?”
“Nothing of essence.” I think about what Olm just admitted. Could I possibly know his story under a different title? I don’t recall any protagonist called Olm.
“I can’t believe that… thing,” Eiras nods at the satchel, “thatbookspoke inside my head and took over my mind, using me like a puppet. It feels… revolting and offensive.”
“I don’t know why it doesn’t affect me,” I whisper, feeling strangely sorry for having been spared.
“Well, I’m glad,” he says fiercely. “You always had a strong mind.”
I shoot him a surprised look. “I didn’t know you thought that of me.”
“You had such a strong pair of lungs on you when mother brought you home. And always had your way. Not in a spoiled, demanding brat way, mind you. You worked hard for everything. You even convinced Brogan to keep you, and he was reluctant at first.”
Was he? That’s news to me. I love him as much as my heart can love anyone.
“He thought we couldn’t afford another child. He was fighting a lot with Mother back then, as well.”
I shake my head. “I can’t remember any of that.”
“That’s because once you arrived, things started to change. You always reached for Brogan. Called out for him. Melted his heart.”
I laugh softly. “You see? I’m sweet. And Naida?”
