“Did you read the book like I asked?”
“Some of it. It’s a large book.” Martin read until the wee hours and only managed about a fourth of the pages.
“They come from other realms like the book says.”
“What are realms?”
Dmitri huffed out a longsuffering sigh. “It’s all in the book. So read. And once you’re finished with the first book, I’ll bring you another.”
“Another?” Martin had never read a book that large from cover to cover in his life, and his haphazard education meant it probably took him much longer than one of Dmitri’s sect. “How many books are there?”
“Seven hundred ninety-four.”
Martin’s mouth dropped open. Were there that many books in the world? Surely, Dmitri jested. “Seven hundred…”
”…ninety-four.”
“Why so many?”
“Mages fleeing my homeland each brought as many books as we could to preserve the knowledge of our ancestors. Only those remain. So much knowledge lost.”
“Would the missing books have told us how to repair the wards?”
“Doubtful. But the ones we have will tell you something useful.”
“What’s that?”
“They will teach you how to use your magic. Now, take my hand. Don’t let go.”
Prickles crawling along Martin’s spine, he took Dmitri’s hand. Dmitri gestured with his other hand, up, down, side to side. The air shimmered. He stepped into the spot, taking Martin with him.
Martin floated, gently buffeted by unseen winds. Images flitted through his mind; some scenes could be from places he’d seen before, with beings similar to himself. Other images were bizarre, filled with strange inhabitants. Hundreds of images flashed by in quick succession. Where was he?
A tug on his hand pulled Martin back through the shimmering air to the spot he’d occupied beside the bridge. His heart pounded.
“Do you understand now?” Dmitri asked.
“Understand what?” The ground suddenly seemed unsteady under Martin’s feet.
“What you saw were different realms, some similar to ours, others bear no resemblance.”
“So, the demons came from one of those other realms?”
“Yes.”
“What about the others? Do they ever come through?” Some of those creatures would star in Martin’s nightmares.
“Sometimes, but if they’re not suited for our realm, they don’t live long enough to be seen.”
“But—”
“Read the books.”
Martin plodded through the streets of the lower city. Words and phrases in an unfamiliar language dogged his heels. Once mastered, they tended to invade the brain and never leave.
Night after night he’d trudged through the darkness, seeking out the hidden runes with Father Dmitri. They no longer relied on lanterns, though Martin carried one in case someone observed him. Now, he merely opened his hand, letting a round ball of mage light guide his steps.
Similar to the flame Martin’s mother used to call for his amusement.
