You would never be enough, the Handlers had told her, yet look at them now, strung by their intestines and dangling from the chandeliers. Blood dripped onto the bulbs and a red film of light glowed over the Great Library’s fiftieth floor, complemented by the pink shimmers of the sunrise through the large clerestory windows. Afia rubbed at the blood stains trailing down her fingers, swiping her hands across her dark Apprentice robes.
Miss Grenadine, the Head Handler, swayed in the air before the burden of her weight dislodged the chandelier from the ceiling. Afia scrambled backward as it shattered, sending candles skittering across the ground and igniting the polished wooden floorboards. The flames crept along the floor, catching Grenadine’s robes on fire until they had burnt to blackened wisps of fabric, then trailed over to the A-C bookshelf of the Advanced Magical Architecture section.
Afia cursed.
In minutes, the library’s alarm systems would blare, alerting Handlers in the area of the fire, and many would sprint to the library’s aid. The Great Library of Britania was a historical landmark with social and political importance, so if the library were to fall, Dyria’s government would fling itself into distress. Fortunately for Afia, even if Dyria did collapse, she wouldn’t be alive to see it. By that time, they’d have captured and hung her for her crimes. One high-level Handler and three Apprentices were dead, the library was on fire, an entire section of books were gone, and Afia stood in the midst of it. The chances of escaping were slim.
Upon arrival, the Handlers would interrogate her and pry as much information as possible from her mouth. Dyrian interrogation methods were unique in their use of magical compulsion and torture. Afia found great interest in the topic when learning of it in lessons but, loitering in the middle of a crime scene with blood on her hands, she knew that she did not want to experience it first-hand.
She needed to leave immediately. The window of escape was closing.
Afia snatched Grenadine’s enchanted burlap backpack and began shoving magical books into its endless confines. The fire was still chewing away at the Advanced Magical Architecture books and had yet to reach the Practical Spell Books and Grimoires. Those books contained the study of arcane disciplines and practical magic applications. Afia had wanted to devour the knowledge within them, but Grenadine, the one bleeding over a broken chandelier, had forbade her perusal.
Afia clutched the enchanted bag and threw another dozen books inside. There’s no one to refuse her anymore.
Renewed in her cause, Afia cleared out the bookshelves in the section. She had grabbed the last book on the fifth bookshelf, The Practical Art of Barrier Magic, when the alarms sounded in her ear.
It was time.
Afia threw the backpack over her shoulders and sprinted into the hallway. Many library patrons were scurrying into transportation pods, rushing back and forth like a pendulum swung by blind panic. Afia blended into the crowd and slipped through the frenzy until she could squeeze into an empty transpod, trapped as a flood of people stacked themselves in with her. She scrunched her nose at the musty scent of sweat and old books in the air.
“You,” Someone whispered, “Hey, you!”
Afia turned. It was a young boy with large spectacles, a trainwreck of frizzy black curls, and brown eyes. He wore formal robes that drowned his short stature, but the maturity of his face suggested that they were close in age. He was glaring at her.
“I know what you did.”
Afia froze. “What?”
“I saw. You—”
She stomped hard on his foot and muffled his shout with her bosom. The people surrounding her eyed them oddly, but Afia began to soothe the boy, saying ‘It’s alright, brother. Everything will be fine.’ They soon lost interest.
She bent her neck and hovered closely by his ear. “Say a word, and no one will find your body.”
The boy pushed her away. “I’m not a coward, you horse-nosed witch.”
“You clearly don’t value life.” Afia sneered.
The transpod stopped on the first floor and the crowd spilled into the lobby. The Apprentices in charge of the area, struck by the screaming library alarm, ran through the crowd with stacks of paperwork held close to their chests. Grenadine once told her that library Apprentices were trained to preserve the library and eliminate threats when Handlers were, for one reason or another, unavailable.
Afia stared down at the small boy in her arms and scrutinized his attire. It was strange. He seemed so young but the robes draping from his shoulders signified status. A golden pin gleamed proudly on his left breast, carved into the shape of a snake twisting around a beautiful cursive ‘B’. That golden pin.
She gasped. Her hands began to sweat.
He was an Apprentice.
A high-ranking Graduate Apprentice, as well. Only the most promising were granted that title and given the pin that indicated their assured elevation into the Handler division. Afia wasn’t strong enough to defeat a Graduate on equal terms, even if she had killed Grenadine and her Apprentice assistant. She struck them while they were weak and unaware, but the Graduate knew she was a threat.
In other words, this was the end.
Afia could recite a teleportation incantation and pray that it would work despite lacking the proper technique. Though even if the spell functioned, she’d have to hide in the capital and sneak past the guards while evading the Apprentice. Meaning she would still be dead.
She grasped the boy for long enough to drag him into an alcove.
Afia lifted him up by the front of his shirt. “What do you want?”
“You’re leaving, right? You have to, or you’re dead. But…” He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and dislodged her grip. “I have an offer.”
“Offer?”
“I’ll help you escape if you take me with you.”
Her eyes went wide. “You know that’s treason, right?”
“I can’t stay in this country anymore and neither can you. So, either you take me with you or I get you hanged. What’s it gonna be?”
She scanned their surroundings, her gaze darting over to each individual that flew passed the two of them. Being in the library became more dangerous by the second, and consequently, her options became slimmer and slimmer. This might be her best choice. As soon as she was no longer in immediate danger, she could just abandon him and hurry to the next city.
“Fine. You backstab me and I’ll kill you.” Afia stepped away and adjusted the straps of her bag. “First order of business: we need to get out of here quick. I have an entire section of stolen books on my person and you’re my accomplice. If I’m caught, we’re both going down.”
The boy nodded. “Right. I have a spell that’ll warp us out of the capital, but it’s traced easily. We’d need to hightail it as soon as we’re out.”
“Don’t care—if it’s fast then use it.”
“Alright.” The boy grabbed her wrist and Afia jerked away. He sighed. “I need to touch you for the spell to work. Calm down, murderer.”
He tugged on her arm and began the incantation, whispering words that caused a warm glow to shimmer between their skin. The Great Library warped into a blur of watercolor and oils, disorienting Afia as the world tilted. Streams of vibrancy coiled together and formed a scene, like abstract Dyrian artwork after sniffing frog powder, and as Afia stepped out to observe the oddities, a strong hand snagged her wrist again.
“The hell? Don’t touch me!”
“I’m keeping you from turning into a human parfait.” The boy snorted and pulled her back. “If you go out too far, the spell will collapse on us.”
Grenadine had once screamed that fact into her ear after she’d attempted an unauthorized space-time spell. She relented. “Fine. Whatever.”
The boy dropped her hand like it was diseased. “We’re here now, so it doesn’t even matter.”
Like the boy had said, they were standing outside of the cement block wall that served as the capital’s first line of defense. The cement was thick enough to carve an alure into the top of the wall, creating a relatively protected area to mobilize and keep watch from. From what Afia had gathered of their surroundings, they teleported to the rear of the capital city.
This was the most solid part of the city’s defense.
Afia raised her eyes to the wall.
Dozens of Dyrien soldiers stood tall, pointing various firearms in her direction.
“Darn it.” The boy cursed. “I thought—”
Afia cut him off. “Doesn’t matter what you thought. We’re at a dead end right now.”
“You there!” A soldier shouted, pointing a standard issue arcane shooter at their heads. From his medallion, he was the leader of this sector. “Drop any magical items. Get on the ground and put your hands where I can see them.”
“Plan?” The boy whispered to Afia.
“Maybe.” She whispered back. “Distract the officer.”
The soldier was getting antsy. “Drop your items and get on the ground now!”
Both Afia and the boy hesitated for a moment before the boy kneeled on the ground and spoke up.
“Hello, officer! I don’t understand why we are being met with hostilities, but we’re Dyrian citizens. We can show you our identification cards!”
The officer glared down at the two of them before nodding. “Alright. Show me your IDs.”
Afia smiled. “Thank you, officer. Mine is in my bag, may I take it out?”
Afia’s ID was actually in the right-hand pocket of her robes, but the officer had no need for that information. The items in the pocket dimension, connecting to the inside of the enchanted bag, were far more nefarious than the honesty of a Dyrian citizen’s ID card.
The officer mulled it over before nodding once. “Move slowly.”
“Yes, of course.”
Afia reached into her bag, concentrating on the object that she wished to appear: a magical smoke grenade. She knew Grenadine had a lot of them stored in the pocket dimension for safekeeping, but also to appease her hoarding tendencies. Once the grenade formed in her grasp, Afia breathed in relief.
“I’ve found it, Officer.”
“Good,” he said. “Take out your ID card.”
Afia twisted the nozzle and threw the magical smoke grenade on the ground. A loud pop stung her ears and billowy smoke exploded in the air, blocking the splotched red that the officer’s face had turned.
“Fire!” He shouted, and a shower of bullets rushed through the smoke.
Afia threw up a weak magical shield and screamed at her companion, still kneeling on the ground. “We gotta go, like, now!”
The boy looked frantic, his hands shaking and his eyes darting around as if searching for a hopeful escape.
“I—I can’t cast a teleport spell like this, we need to just run.”
The smoke around them was beginning to clear, easing up in various areas and giving Afia an unwanted view of the muzzle of the officer’s gun. Not only that, but Afia had used most of her magic to slaughter her now-dead guardians this morning. Her shield was beginning to crack, fractures circling around the edges.
“If we’re running, we gotta be fast.” A projectile swiped past Afia’s face as she yelled. The boy stared at her. “Go, idiot!”
Both Afia and the young boy took off, and Afia prayed that they would get far, far away from the capital city.
Points: 415
Reviews: 70
Donate