13.

The Bellringer Before Juhg could move, Craugh swung his staff with blinding speed, with no more apparent thought than he might shoo away a fly. The staff broke the speeding arrow in twain and both pieces hurtled harmlessly by Juhg.

"Move!" Craugh commanded in that steely tone Juhg had heard on occasion before. "Move if you would save your life, apprentice!"

Juhg threw himself to one side and dodged behind the stacks of books. The treacherous books, he couldn't help thinking. Whoever had designed the trap had constructed it well enough. If there were ever to be any wooden horses of Phamscrifa brought into the Library, a book was surely the vehicle to deliver those enemies in. He placed his back against a stack of books and peered back toward the center of the room.

Craugh stood with both hands on his staff. Galing winds from wherever the monstrous beast and its terrifying rider had come from whipped at the wizard's robes. The beast snarled, threw its head back and whipped it forward, spitting a line of fiery liquid.

Arcane words Juhg had never heard spilled from the wizard's lips. Juhg had never seen the language anywhere, and had often felt certain if he ever did find examples of it that he would never want to read it. Wick had mentioned more than once that the older wizards, and Craugh was certainly one of those, had their own language.

Some said the language was from the Dark Times, even before Lord Kharrion had gathered the goblinkin and brought about the Cataclysm. Others said that the truly powerful wizards took their power from some other place, a world removed from the one most people knew, a place of terrible beasts and men where horrible events took place every minute of every day.

It was said that a wizard, a truly powerful wizard, was exposed to that world-like Annealis who was dipped into the River of Time as a baby by his mother so that he would be forever immortal, except for the ear that his mother held him by-for only a short time. The time was supposed to be long enough to gain the power, but not long enough to go mad.

Many of those who sought to wear wizard's robes were dipped too long or not long enough. Very few were dipped just right. Wizardwork was a very hazardous calling, and not much appreciated by anyone.

Until you have need of a wizard, Juhg thought, watching as Craugh caught the flaming spit in one bare hand and threw it back into the creature's face.

Smashed full in the face by the seething mass of flames that clung to its obscene features, the creature reared straight up. Evidently the creature could contain the fire inside itself but not endure it the way that dragons could, or perhaps Craugh's magic altered the flames in some way. Blisters, huge and weeping, appeared on the animal's face sacked in thin green skin.

Driven by the rearing creature, the four-armed warrior slammed into the room's tall ceiling. Stone shattered and a crack ran half the length of the room. Dazed by the impact, the warrior slipped from its mount and fell against the stone floor with a resounding clangor of metal. The warrior did not immediately get to its feet, and Juhg was heartened.

But even as Juhg thought they all might quite possibly survive the encounter, two more creatures bearing riders stepped through the impossible gate that had formed in the room. The riders fired arrows at Craugh, who stood his ground and called on the forces at his command. Green lightning blazed from the wizard's eyes. One of the arrows caught in the wizard's robes. The second came so close to hitting him that the broadhead sliced hair from his beard and the stiff fletching sliced his cheek from his nose to his ear. A line of crimson blood oozed out.

"Juhg!"

Drawn by the Grandmagister's voice, Juhg glanced in Wick's direction.

The Grandmagister stood behind one of the thick stone columns that supported the ceiling. Embers caught in his robes and his red hair.

"Go get the dwarves!" Wick yelled. "Ring the alarm bell! Tell them that we have Dread Riders and Blazebulls inside the Library!"

Dread Riders and Blazebulls! Juhg wanted to kick himself. He should have known what the beasts were. He had read a few books about the fearsome riders and their merciless beasts. Of course, all of those books had come from Hralbomm's Wing and had been at the Grandmagister's suggestion to lighten Juhg's "too scholarly" approach to his reading.

It was the Grandmagister's contention-Grandmagister Lamplighter's and not Grandmagister Frollo's, nor the contention of any Grandmagister who had gone before, most of the Librarians said-that reading the incredible adventures and romances in Hralbomm's Wing also gave insight to a culture's beliefs and histories. Juhg had believed that because the Grandmagister had told him so. Too often, though, the tales twisted too much the events and people that inspired the romantic accountings. Where Wick seemed to grasp with ease the allegory and subtlety of the stories and fathom the hidden meanings, Juhg had struggled.

But Dread Riders and Blazebulls were something Juhg felt he should have known. As far as anyone knew, the creatures did not exist in the world. They were reportedly from some other place, a hidden place filled with horror and wickedness. Some even said that dragons had once lived there but had made their escape into the world.

But, Juhg thought, staring wide-eyed as Craugh brought his staff down against the stone floor with a mighty crack that should have sundered the surface, they are real!

Lightning leapt from Craugh's staff as he stood against the two newest beasts and their riders. Bolts of blazing green power shot across the room and blew great chunks from the Dread Riders and the Blazebulls. For a brief moment, their attack was battered back like an incoming wave against a rocky shoal.

Then small shadows crept in between the rearing, snarling monsters. The new arrivals were shorter, even than dwellers. The color of black ink, so dark that none of the lantern light or the Blazebulls' flames reflected from them, the creatures had huge bulbous heads a full third of their body length that made them appear almost waiflike. But one look at the close-set malevolent black eyes encircled by pools of venomous yellow and the snapping jackrabbit teeth shattered that impression immediately. Their limbs were blade-thin, harsh lines devoid of muscle or fat, and the joints were heavy knobs. The hands and feet were three sizes too large for their spindly, featureless bodies. They wore no clothing, and their skin, as Juhg remembered from his reading of Veskheg Versus the Hordes of Shadow, was hard and slick as a beetle's carapace.

"Grymmlings," Juhg whispered, giving a name to the terror the small creatures evoked. The few stories he'd read of the beasts left him trembling.

Despite their bulbous heads, the Grymmlings had no rational thought patterns. No one could communicate with them. At least, as far as Juhg knew, no one could communicate with them, but that couldn't exactly be true because they were here now working with the Dread Riders and the Blazebulls. The general thinking was that Grymmlings were no more coherent than insects and worked through a group consciousness, a hive mind. Like locusts, they descended in droves to devour everything in their path. They were omnivorous, eating plants and meat, and seemed possessed by-not of, as the romance writer Iligurl had pointed out no less than seventy-three times in his story of Veskheg-by an insatiable appetite. They carried foot-long crystal blades spun from gossamer crystal by giant Laragan spiders they kept as pets in their lairs.

"Juhg!" Grandmagister cried out.

Embarrassed at having been caught so flatfooted by everything that was transpiring, Juhg glanced back at his mentor.

"Go!" the Grandmagister ordered.

Out in the center of the floor, Craugh backed up three paces. His voice sang with fury and the raucous sound of a file rasping along a rough edge not yet ready for fine work. He thrust his staff up before him in both hands, stamping forward with his left foot.

In response to Craugh's movement and the magic he commanded, the three hundred nineteen books that had been brought into the room leapt from the floor and swirled into the advancing line of attackers. The heavy books bludgeoned the invaders, knocking the Grymmlings back like tenpins and even thudding swiftly enough to dissuade the three Blazebulls that had entered through the mystical gate from continuing on inside the Library.

"No!" Grandmagister Lamplighter wailed. "Craugh! Not the books!"

But the wizard gave no heed, gesturing again to send the books once more against their opponents. Several of the books burst their bindings in the second assault. Pages from paper and vellum books flew into the air, turned into fiery crisps in a heartbeat as the Blazebulls breathed flames on them. The pages swirled in circles, propelled by the winds that blew in from wherever the creatures had come from.

Other pages-stone pages from books made from a single rock, glass pages blown by glassmakers and fused with a dozen different colors, delicate seashell pages hung together by seaweed strings and turtle sinew, snake scale sash books that told histories of individuals and events, and a dozen others-shattered, broke, and fragmented in a rush across the stone floor. Several of the pieces pierced the huge feet of the Grymmlings, but if the creatures cared, they didn't slow a bit. Bloody footprints, black as squid's ink, followed them.

Juhg caught the Grandmagister's eye.

"Go!" Grandmagister Lamplighter ordered again. "Get to the bell! Call the dwarves! You are faster than I am!"

Juhg knew that wasn't the truth, though. He might have been a little faster than Grandmagister Lamplighter, but Juhg knew the real reason the Grandmagister stayed behind was to stand with his friend. The Grandmagister had never been a brave soul, and tended more toward cautiousness, even after years of adventuring along the mainland and surviving dozens of close calls.

"Now!" the Grandmagister commanded. "Before those horrible imps catch your scent!"

That fact had slipped Juhg's mind. Grymmlings were noted in the annals he'd read of being expert trackers. Once they had locked onto a potential victim's blood spoor, they did not deviate from that victim until one or both of them were dead.

Juhg pushed himself into motion, crossing the room as quickly as possible. His movement attracted the attention of a half-dozen Grymmlings. He saw their black, black eyes focus on him, their black tongues ooze between the yellowed jackrabbit teeth, and felt their unwanted attention, their hunger.

One of them threw itself at him. As it closed, hurtling like an arrow launched from a bow, it swept the gleaming crystal knife out at his throat.

Juhg ducked.

Out of control, the Grymmling slammed into a chair, bowling the chair over and spilling in a tangle of arms and legs. Another leapt for Juhg's legs, arms outspread and jackrabbit teeth open wide to bite deeply.

Leaping into the air, Juhg watched the Grymmling shoot past beneath him. Juhg landed on a study table, knocking over other stacks of books as he skidded across the top. He slipped off the other side before he was ready and dropped to the floor. He landed off balance, gave in to gravity and fell forward, and rolled, coming up on his feet once more. The robes hampered his movement and he shed them as he ran.

Three Grymmlings slammed into the table behind him. They made vicious little noises that sounded like paper cuts might if given voice. The buzzing, burning, irritating chatter filled Juhg's ears. His lungs filled with deep draughts of air, and he tasted the smoke of burning paper.

Before he reached the door, one of the enchantments laid upon the Vault of All Known Knowledge by the Builders activated. Fire was a problem to any building made up of wood, or even any building made of stone that was shored by wooden timbers. But a fire inside the Library was thought to be the worst thing that could ever happen.

Until the Dread Riders, Blazebulls, and Grymmlings arrived, Juhg thought as he ran for the door.

Many of the enchantments laid on the room were designed to protect the books. Water was the first line of defense. Drawn from the southern shores of the Blood-Soaked Sea and pulled by magic through the countryside and the stones of the building, water wept from the ceiling inside the room. By the time Juhg reached the door, the condensation that had begun the protection effort had turned into a monsoon, evidently reacting to the intensity of the flames the Blazebulls breathed, as well as Craugh's own use of that fire.

At this rate, the spell will drain the Blood-Soaked Sea, Juhg thought. He caught the edge of the door and peered back, watching as Craugh grudgingly gave ground before the fierce aggressors. Then a Grymmling jumped onto the wall almost at Juhg's face, clinging there with its strong fingers and prehensile toes.

Unable to stop a cry of surprise, Juhg stumbled back in shock, tripped, and fell on his backside. Three more Grymmlings appeared in the door, their yellow eyes vacant and hungry, their crystal blades scraping across the stone floor.

Juhg got himself up and ran, trying desperately to remember which way the alarm bell that would summon the dwarves stationed within the Library as well as those presently on leave down in Greydawn Moors.

In all the history of the Library, the great bell had never rung before. He was going to ring it-the first ever. If he lived.

"Gangway!" Juhg yelled, barely able to part with the breath that it took to force out the warning. "Gangway! Grymmlings!"

He wanted to shout out everything, to tell the Librarians wandering the dimly lit halls of the Vault of All Known Knowledge that the Great Library was under attack. He wanted to tell them that Dread Riders, Blazebulls, and Grymmlings ran rampant. That the Grandmagister's life might already be forfeit and even Craugh, when Juhg had last seen him, wasn't faring so very well.

But he didn't have the breath. And he didn't have the time.

Librarians by their very nature were not slow creatures. They had a tendency to size up situations quickly. Although none of them had ever seen Grymmlings, at least a few of them recognized the deadly little creatures for what they were.

"Grymmlings!"

"Grymmlings!"

The shrieks roared through the long hallway Juhg was presently running along. He had at last gotten his bearings and remembered where the great alarm bell was located.

Six Librarians ahead of Juhg took up the cry, froze in their tracks for just an instant, then fled in the other direction.

No, Juhg reflected grimly, if you show a Librarian a Grymmling, they know at once what to do. He tried to suck in a deeper breath, and couldn't. He tried to cry out again to say that the Grandmagister needed help and couldn't. Desperately, he tried to lift his knees higher to lengthen his stride, or more quickly to hasten his frantic pace, and couldn't.

The Grymmlings remained just behind him. The low, growling buzz of their tiny voices pursued him relentlessly.

Despite their quick uptake on the situation, the Librarians weren't as fleet of foot as Juhg was. He caught up with them and passed them, feeling instantly bad when the Grymmlings caught up with the Librarians in the next breath. He shoved and pushed his way through the Librarians.

Juhg shut their piteous cries out of his head. He couldn't stop. If he fell, the great bell would never be rung and the dwarves would not know that Death had found its way into the Library. Down in the mines, he had sometimes been forced to chop the leg off a dweller who had died of overwork and starvation. Chains had bound them all together, and dragging a dead body around till the end of a shift put an impossible drain on the rest of the chain crew.

Three times during his long years in the goblinkin mines, Juhg had chopped the legs off dwellers who had fallen. They'd also had to carry the leg of a fallen friend back with them each time, to show that the dweller free of the chain hadn't simply escaped. The average goblinkin wasn't overly bright, but even they had known that dwellers came with two legs.

Behind Juhg, cries for help became cries of agony. He ran, leaving the cries behind him, but hearing the steady skittering of chitin-hard, overly large feet slapping against the stone floor of the hallway behind him. Unable to help himself, he turned to look.

Lantern light glinted from the crystal knives two Grymmlings carried as they continued their pursuit of Juhg.

Frightened, knowing that his fatigue was slowing his step, feeling the iron bands that had seized up tight around his chest, Juhg faced forward again just before he took a nasty spill down a flight of stone steps. Unfortunately, he knew he would never be able to slow in time to manage the long flight without tripping and falling, quite possibly to his death.

And then there would be no one to ring the bell.

Trusting to his dweller's surefootedness, Juhg leapt to the railing to the right of the stairs. Only when he gained the railing did he realize he was along the portion of the underground section of the Library most referred to as the Pit.

When the Builders had formed the island during the Dark Years of the Cataclysm before any of the races became certain their warriors stood a chance against Lord Kharrion and his goblinkin army, they had drawn up the earth they had used to make the island from the sea floor. Whatever magic and skills they had used had left a long, vertical pit in the center of the Knucklebones Mountains.

The pit was thirty feet across and, at least from where Juhg stood, ninety feet straight down. The Librarians drew their water from that pit. The salt of the Blood-Soaked Sea-and whatever other revolting stuff lurked out there in those crimson depths-was strained out by the limestone roots of the island.

Heart in his throat, Juhg ran along the railing, telling himself he would not fall. One misstep, he knew, and his race would be run. Rocks waited at the end of that long fall at the bottom of the Pit. Even if he survived the fall and somehow found the small opening that allowed egress into the heart of the mountains again in the complete darkness below, and if the water level was high enough at the moment that he might reach that opening, he would never be able to sound the bell in time.

Despite the Grandmagister's seeming confidence, Juhg held no real hope that even the dwarven warriors would be able to hold back the things that walked into the Library through the mystical gate. But he ran, fleet of foot, through the dim glow provided by the occasional lantern. This part of the Library generally required a Librarian to bring his own light, as the Librarians he'd heard fall behind him had done.

Reaching the bottom of the railing, he leapt to the floor. No sooner had he landed than one of the two Grymmlings that pursued him landed across his shoulders. Evidently the creature had taken the same route while its companion tumbled and bumped down the stairs.

Cruel teeth bit into Juhg's right shoulder. Blood coursed, warm and thick, down his side under his blouse. Pain exploded inside his skull as he screamed in fear. Off balance, he fell heavily to his right, slamming into the railing next to the Pit just as he managed to lever his right arm under the Grymmling's chin and start pulling.

The railing caught Juhg in mid-chest. More pain burned along his ribs as he bent over the railing. However, the sudden stop worked even less in the Grymmling's favor. The creature tore loose from Juhg, leaving a wake of ripped clothing and long scratches along bruised flesh.

The Grymmling made no noise as it hurtled out into the darkness in the center of the Pit. The last thing Juhg saw of the creature were the venomous yellow eyes and the gleam of the crystal knife as it dropped from sight.

Then the other Grymmling plopped onto the floor in a fetal ball.

Gasping for air, certain his heart was about to explode into a million pieces, Juhg watched as the creature unfolded its limbs, looking like a spider as it shoved out its arms and legs. Then its head popped up and the jackrabbit teeth flared open as it squeaked menacingly.

Juhg pushed himself from the railing and ran the final distance to the door to the alarm bell. Every floor had access to the stairwell that led up to the curving steps that snaked up to the top of the alarm tower. Thankfully, the Grymmling was too stunned to follow at speed until after Juhg grabbed the lantern from the wall outside the doorway, then started up the stairwell.

The Grymmling howled its eerie buzzing noise.

Inside the stairwell, Juhg wasted a moment to look for a latch to lock the door behind him. Then he realized that he was back in the Vault of All Known Knowledge and that no one locked doors inside the Library.

He turned and started up the stairs. His knees protested at once. He felt light-headed and couldn't quite catch his breath, which tasted like heated brine anyway.

But he made himself go. He had spent years in the goblinkin mines. That experience had not defeated him, only made him stronger in mind and in body than he had ever truly realized before now.

He went, two and three stairs at a time, round and round to the right, so fast that he felt dizzy. The lantern bounced in his other hand and the light whirled around him. He thought he was going to be sick, but he forced himself to keep going, charging into the gloom ahead of him while a lethal shadow nipped at his heels.

At last, just when he was certain that his legs would burst into flames and he couldn't go another step, Juhg spotted light ahead. Breathing in shuddering gasps, black comets whirling in his vision, he raised the lantern high at the end of his trembling arm.

Around the next turn, he spotted a beautiful stained-glass window showing Enloch standing tall at the Bridge of Loronal, one of the key conflicts during the final push against Lord Kharrion during the Year of Hope Redeemed, which would have been named the Year of Shattered Courage if Enloch and his group hadn't managed to hold the bridge till the majority of the Unity's armies could draw back to fight again. Enloch had died during that battle, but the second battle fought the next day had helped break the back of Lord Kharrion's army.

Juhg chose to take the stained-glass representation as a good sign. His lantern light reflected against the stained-glass panes, and only then did he realize that sunset had fallen outside. They had worked so long to gather the three hundred nineteen volumes named in the book Windchaser had recovered that they had lost the day.

Only night lay outside the walls of the Vault of All Known Knowledge, Juhg realized. Most of the town sleeping below the Knucklebones Mountains would be abed. His heart sank. His feet faltered. He fell and bruised his shins against the sharp stone corner of the step.

Before he could get to his feet again, the Grymmling caught his ankle and pulled.

Juhg's chin impacted against the step with enough force to almost knock him out. He screamed and yelled, knowing the whole time that no one could possible hear him. Images of Grandmagister Lamplighter's poor torn body flashed through his mind.

No! he told himself with grim determination. That has not happened! I will not allow that to happen!

He rolled into the side of the staircase in an effort to dislodge the loathsome creature. It clung to him stubbornly. The insane buzzing chatter filled his head. The jackrabbit teeth bit into his ear and more blood spilled down the side of his face.

The Grymmling drew back its blade and drove the weapon home into Juhg's side. New pain scalded the dweller's mind. He drew his arm forward and brought his elbow back in a manner Master Pohkem taught in his book on martial arts, The Unarmed Warrior Bares His Knuckles and Teeth and His Heart, and Other Things.

His elbow popped into the Grymmling three times. The creature tumbled backward, but not before managing to shove the crystal blade into Juhg's arm once for good measure.

Spinning, knowing for all his efforts that he had only earned a moment's respite, Juhg swung the lantern into the Grymmling. The lantern shattered at once. Glass fragments and glimmerworm juice flew over the creature and the wall behind it. The wick remained lit and landed at the Grymmling's foot. Although glimmerworm juice burned cool, it also burned easily, soaking into a wick as if the two had been separated and were only then reunited.

Flames spread along the Grymmling. The creature buzzed and shrieked in agony and fear, jerking and jumping. Then, as if realizing that it couldn't put the flames out, the Grymmling turned its yellow eyes on Juhg. Madness dawned there, fueled by the clinging lummin juice.