On his back, Juhg shoved his feet forward and caught the nearest step, propelling himself up the staircase. The steps bruised his back, but he got enough distance to flip over and use his hands to push himself up and run again. He didn't run, though, so much as he managed to fall up the stairs a very long way.

He reached the platform where the bell was and saw the coil of rope wound round a great iron hook set into the wall. Dust and spiderwebs covered the rope and the great bell. The Librarians tended not to be overly interested in cleanliness unless a certain state of dishevelment could be directly attributed to a particular Librarian.

Summoning the final dregs of his strength, near-to-passing-out because he couldn't catch his breath, Juhg dove for the bell rope and clung with both hands. Incredibly, the bell didn't move. Aghast, he glanced up and saw that the clapper and the spindle the bell was mounted on had evidently rusted in place.

The great bell had been forged by Thomak-Oolufsin, one of the Burning Iron Forge Dwarves during the early days of the Library. Thomak-Oolufsin also designed and smithed much of the wrought iron in the common rooms where the Library was expected to entertain guests. Since there were so few guests that came to the Vault of All Known Knowledge, much of Thomak-Oolufsin's final works went unviewed.

Juhg had always considered that a sad thing, but the saddest thing at the moment was that no one had seen to the great bell more often.

The flaming Grymmling forced its way up the steps. The creature no longer moved quickly, but that it moved at all let Juhg know he was not long for the world. Even though it was smaller than him and still burning in some places, although the chitinous outer skin made that hard to discern in most places, he knew from grappling with it earlier that it was stronger than him.

Thinking quickly, first-guiltily-of his own survival, then of how he was to ring the bell, Juhg spotted a lantern filled with lummin juice hanging on the wall. The Library was filled with lanterns because Librarians often didn't pay attention to how much lummin juice they had left in their lanterns and often got stranded in the dark.

As a result, the Librarians who were responsible for filling the lanterns again when it was their turn did not miss a lantern. Although the great bell was not ready-and Juhg had to admit that no procedure existed for testing the bell-the lantern was full.

The bell hung twenty feet above Juhg. He dug his nimble toes into the rope and shoved himself upward, using his free hand. After all of the countless hours climbing Windchaser's rigging, climbing the rope was simple. However, the Grymmling climbed just as easily. Fiercely, the deadly little creature followed him, its knife tucked securely between the jackrabbit teeth.

At the top of his climb, Juhg reached up, caught the edge of the bell, threw his feet against the wall, and walked up to the bell by pressing his hands against the bell while he pressed his feet against the wall. He carried the lantern in his teeth.

The Grymmling didn't possess arms long enough to continue its climb. It hissed and buzzed inside the bell.

Safe for the moment, Juhg held on to the top of the bell, knowing if he fell the creature would be all over him. Bracing himself on his elbows, almost strained to the limit, he opened the lummin juice reservoir and reached up to pour the liquid over the spindle that held the bell in place. He poured more through the hole at the top where the clapper was affixed.

In addition to burning with a cold flame that didn't often prove combustible to other mediums, Grymmling chitin proving one happy exception at least, lummin juice also combatted rust with a vengeance. Before Juhg could secure his hold again, his weight forced the freed bell into motion.

He fell, tumbling and squalling in fear, flailing with both hands until he grabbed the bell rope. No sooner had he seized the rope and stopped his fall than the clapper smacked into the side of the bell and released a huge, clangorous note that felt like it turned his bones to jelly. He lost his hold on the rope and fell again.

Hitting the stone floor below almost knocked Juhg unconscious. The impact did knock out what little air he had in his lungs. Before his senses fully returned, something landed on his chest. Curious, and a little afraid because he thought he knew what the lump might be, he looked up into the yellow eyes of the Grymmling.

The thing grinned, obviously a little woozy from the bell's clangor as well. But it definitely had murder in mind as its hard-knuckled fist closed on the crystal knife.

Then the bell bonged again, filling the bell tower with even stronger noise than the first time. The vibrations shuddered through Juhg and disoriented the Grymmling.

Taking advantage of the creature's hesitation, Juhg slapped his palm into its face and shoved it from his chest before it could sink its blade into his heart or its teeth into his throat. The Grymmling rolled backward, but came to its feet again as Juhg did.

The creature threw itself in one of those incredible jumps its kind was able to perform. Juhg ducked, putting up a hand into the creature's stomach to keep it off of him. It slashed at him in its passing, though, and the blade drew blood from the back of his hand.

Juhg turned, expecting the thing to bounce off the wall behind him and hurtle itself at him once more. Only it didn't strike the wall; it struck the stained-glass window.

Delicate and fragile, pieced together from hundreds of shards of glass mounted in a delicate framework, the stained-glass window shattered outward at once. Silver moonslight caught dozens of pieces of glass and rendered them into gleaming jewels spread out in a long spray of color.

The Grymmling vanished from sight, headed for a very long, very hard fall down the north side of the Knucklebones Mountains.

Shaking and weak, almost overcome by fear and his exertions, as well as blood loss, Juhg walked to the window and peered down. He saw the Grymmling, parts of it still covered in flames, lying against the unforgiving stone below. The creature did not move.

Just as Juhg caught a breath of fresh night air that constricted his lungs, light invaded the bell tower. He turned, holding his hand up against the bright light that leeched the darkness from the tower.

The bell continued to bong hollowly, making any other sounds impossible to hear.

At first, Juhg had feared the worst, that some other creatures had followed him from the research room where the mystical gate had opened. Then the man holding the lantern held it to one side so that his features were revealed.

"Varrowyn," Juhg cried, and knew the dwarf had not heard him because he could not hear himself over the clanging bell.

The dwarf reached out and took Juhg's arm, turning the limb slowly to examine it under the lantern light. He glanced back up at Juhg and his lips moved.

Unable to hear because of the bell and unable to read the dwarf's lips because of his fierce beard, Juhg pointed through the broken window at the body of the Grymmling. Juhg doubted greatly that the dwarf knew what the creature was, but he was certain Varrowyn knew it didn't belong in the Vault of All Known Knowledge.

Varrowyn growled and spat. Then he clamped a hand like a vise of iron on Juhg's upper arm so hard the dweller lost the feeling in that limb, and marched him down the same stairs that Juhg had fought so hard to climb up with the Grymmling at his heels.

Juhg protested the harsh usage at first, because the grip hurt his arm so badly and he was already hurting, but he remembered that life hadn't looked all that rosy for Grandmagister Lamplighter and Craugh the last time he had seen them. He only wished that they weren't dead.

The bell renewed its clangorous assault on Juhg's hearing. He glanced back and saw that one of Varrowyn's dwarven warriors was pulling the bell rope mightily. Two score more, all of them dressed in plate armor and carrying battle-axes and pikes, followed Varrowyn.

At first Juhg didn't know what Varrowyn was doing. Then he noticed the dwarven leader's attention riveted to the steps. In the next instant, he realized that Varrowyn's hunter's eyes followed the blood trail back the length of the hallway.

At the bottom, before the Grymmling had leapt onto Juhg and bitten his ear so that the blood flowed even more easily, the blood drops were farther apart, but the trail remained. Varrowyn lengthened his stride. Juhg tried desperately to keep up.

14.

The Destruction of the Books "Is the gate still open, then?"

Juhg shook his head. "I don't know, Varrowyn. Perhaps Craugh has closed it by now." But I don't see how. If the wizard were going to do that, he would have done it immediately. Maybe. Juhg had to admit that he was no wizard and had no idea of what wizards could do in circumstances like they had just witnessed.

Varrowyn still maintained a merciless grip on Juhg's left arm as he followed the Librarian's directions back to the research room. Not much direction had been needed, though, for the dwarf had a keen eye and the lummin juice burned brightly in his lantern. Blood splatters led back a long way.

Juhg had evidently torn a long scratch along his right leg when he'd slid across the table in the research room to avoid the Grymmlings that had pursued him. Blood still ran freely from that wound as well.

After years in the mines, Juhg had learned to ignore his wounds, even though they scared him. One of the first things having a goblinkin overseer did was make a slave realize what was only a wound and what would kill him.

"The books were used to open this gate?" Varrowyn asked.

"Yes," Juhg said. "But it wasn't the Grandmagister's fault."

Varrowyn shook his head. "I reckon not. But there's gonna be them what blame the Grandmagister fer them deaths that we can't stop in these halls all the same."

Glumly, Juhg realized that what the dwarven guard said was true. Despite how tightly their origins tied with those of the Library, the people of Greydawn Moors considered themselves a separate entity. Families, like Grandmagister Lamplighter's own, considered it a hardship to let one of their own don the robes of a Novice Librarian to serve the Library.

Another few feet and the party of dwarven guards came upon the Grymmlings that had given up chasing Juhg after finding easier prey among slower-moving Librarians. The lanterns glinted against the evil yellow eyes of the monsters. Blood smeared their lipless, razor-edged mouths.

"All right," Varrowyn growled, pushing Juhg back, "let's see how much fight these here beasties gots in 'em to give." He took up his two-handed battle-axe and set the lantern on the ground. The light played over the horrible scene ahead, and Varrowyn's shadow loomed tall and long as he strode in front of the lantern.

Other dwarves kept shoving Juhg to the rear of the pack, then placed their lanterns down as well and joined their leader.

Mindless and greedy, the Grymmlings attacked, even though they were outnumbered.

Numb with horror but with a part of his mind screaming that they needed to hurry, that they needed to find out what had happened to the Grandmagister, Juhg watched as the dwarves divided into four-man groups called anvils, setting up two by two.

Under the strict leadership of a tight-fisted military leader, the dwarven anvil was a deadly thing. Stacked two by two, the anvil worked defensively, double-teaming any enemies that came within reach of their weapons, taking care not to break formation.

Once the anvil had broken the brunt of an enemy's attack, the dwarves formed into the axe, a formation that had one dwarf in the lead with two following and then one more to guard their backs so that the axe could move forcibly through a hesitant or stagnant enemy line at either end.

If the dwarven advance was broken and the axe blunted, they fell back into the anvil, forming up two by two again, with the forward dwarf dropping into the right front slot so that when the axe formed again a new warrior who had not been taking the brunt of the attack was at the forefront. For thousands of years, opponents on battlefields everywhere had learned to fear the anvil and axe of the trained dwarven military fighter.

Juhg had sometimes watched Varrowyn and his dwarves do field exercises. At the time he had been amazed by how fluidly the dwarves moved, each change in placement like a dance almost. Even on defense, dwarves never hesitated to attack. But he had felt certain that Varrowyn and his dwarves trained only for pride, that they would never truly see battle until they left the island, which would never happen because they and their families had sworn to give their lives for the Vault of All Known Knowledge. Seldom had a dwarf given his life for the Library, other than in longevity of service.

One of the Grymmlings launched itself at the dwarves. However, they stood prepared. Varrowyn had questioned Juhg relentlessly on how the creatures fought during the few minutes it had taken to return down the hallway from the bell tower. Juhg had been hard-pressed to keep enough air in his lungs for the rapid movement and the questions. The only thing that had saved him was that the dwarves moved in full plate mail, clanking and thundering down the hallway. Every time he told Varrowyn something a lieutenant on Juhg's other side turned, called, and relayed his words back to the rest of the dwarves.

Varrowyn's great battle-axe flashed through the air, intercepting the leaping Grymmling as lazily as a toad took a fly. Halves of the evil creature fell to either side of the dwarves as first blood spilled over their shiny armor and shields.

The dwarves had two sets of armor. One set was dull and combat-scarred, mail that wouldn't reflect light easily and allowed them to walk unnoticed in the dark of night or in the shadows of the forest. But the set they wore now proclaimed whom they were and what they were there to do.

With hoarse battle cries, the dwarves ran at the Grymmlings full-tilt. The dwarves were merciless in their killing. In seconds, dead Grymmlings fell to the ground, sharing space with the half-eaten corpses of the Librarians.

"Juhg." Varrowyn lifted his visor and wiped blood from his eyes. His shield and his breastplate showed deep scars where the Grymmling's crystal knives had scored the metal.

Stumbling a little, his eyes drawn to the horribly mutilated bodies of dwellers he had known only a short time before, Juhg stumbled forward. He breathed shallowly because of all the blood stink, but that worked against his need for air and made him lightheaded.

"Steady him," Varrowyn commanded.

One of the dwarves grabbed Juhg, clamping down in very nearly the same place as Varrowyn had.

"How much farther?" Varrowyn asked.

Juhg grew aware that he stood in the blood of the Librarians, as well as that of the Grymmlings. He thought for a moment he was going to be sick.

"Juhg." Varrowyn's voice was sterner.

In the distance, Juhg heard the pealing alarm bell. Surely, more of the dwarven guards would be on their way up the mountain to reinforce those in the Vault of All Known Knowledge. The pirates who sailed the Blood-Soaked Sea would surely follow because part of their sworn oath was to protect the Library at all costs from all enemies. In addition, the elven warders would come, bringing their wolves and bears and other creatures they had bonded with.

A small army occupied Greydawn Moors, in addition to the navy that stayed in the harbor or out to sea.

"Yes," Juhg responded.

"How much farther?"

"Only a short distance. The first research room ahead on the right."

Varrowyn started off in that direction again. He wiped blood from his axe blade with a Librarian's robe, which Juhg found at once distasteful but also realized the need for the weapon's cleaning.

He also understood why Varrowyn had to ask directions. The dwarves didn't spend much time in the Library and they didn't know their way around. Their defensive plans hinged on the terrain outside the walls of the Vault of All Known Knowledge. No one was supposed to be able to penetrate the walls. If an enemy did, that meant all the dwarves outside the Library's main buildings had perished in the attack They hadn't trained for an enemy that struck from within the walls of the Library itself. Noisily as before, the dwarves took up a rapid pace in spite of the plate mail. Juhg was swept along in their center, deathly afraid of falling and getting trampled beneath their iron boots.

The dwarven war party didn't reach the research room because four Dread Riders and Blazebulls blocked the hallway. Dozens of Grymmlings and other noxious creatures spread out around the four Blazebulls, careful of the animals' stomping hooves.

Standing on tiptoe, Juhg peered anxiously over the shoulders of the dwarven warriors. He looked for Grandmagister Lamplighter and Craugh's bodies, then he looked for pieces of their bodies, thinking they had fallen and been ripped to pieces by their hideous foes.

"How many of 'em did ye say there were?" Varrowyn growled as he took up his battle-axe once more in his hands.

"I didn't," Juhg replied. "There weren't this many when I was ordered to ring the alarm bell by the Grandmagister."

"Mayhap that thrice-blasted door still remains yet open," Varrowyn said, "an' maybe more of those creatures are even now pourin' into the Library."

The idea made Juhg sick to his stomach. He felt cold and shaky, fully aware that this sensation came from the wounds he had suffered and the fact that he had not recovered from either mad dash through the Library.

The jerking yellow lights that filled the hallway beyond the creatures aligned against the dwarves told Juhg that fires still burned inside the research room in spite of the magical safeguards. Perhaps the fiery liquid the Blazebulls hurled was mystical in nature as well. Juhg didn't know. No one had done a treatise or even a monograph on the ecology of Blazebulls.

Scraps of paper and burning embers floated out into the hallway, dying before they reached the stone floor. Water gushed by the bucketful from the room, proof that the defensive spells still worked. The water sluiced across the floor, already spreading out into the hallway.

Had the Builders thought of that? Juhg asked himself. Had they ever considered that a magical fire might take place in the Library and lock the spell on till the Blood-Soaked Sea itself sat drained and the Library was filled to the tiptop with water?

Lantern light and the fiery breath of the Blazebulls reflected in the water already pooled on the floor.

How much damage has been caused? Juhg wondered. How many books have been destroyed already? You can't read ash. Not if it's not kept nice and tidy.

Several of the books brought into the Vault of All Known Knowledge all those years ago had suffered all kinds of damage. Water had soaked pages. Oil had stained pages. Many had been burned to one degree or another. Using painstaking methods, the Librarians had recovered or gleaned most of the knowledge that was almost lost. Burned pages could be recovered through delicate acids, even if it meant a Librarian had to soak the burned page and immerse it in vinegar to lift the ink to the page's surface once again, then transcribe the page by hand.

But if the ash were broken, as so many of the embers floating through the air offered mute testimony to, then a part of a page or a page or several pages or a book was lost. It was almost as disheartening as walking back through the goblinkin mines at lock-up time and having to carry the leg of a dweller who had succumbed to the harsh life of a slave.

The Dread Riders commanded their fearsome mounts in a clacking tongue that sounded like sticks rattling together. Instantly, the Blazebulls snorted flame.

"Set anvils!" Varrowyn commanded.

In response, the dwarves in the lead hunkered down behind their shield mates in the front row. Only a third of the dwarves carried shields; the rest used two-handed battle-axes, like Varrowyn, or pikes.

Juhg remained standing, dazed as to what they were doing, until one of the dwarves dropped a heavy mailed fist on his shoulder and yanked him down to the flat of his back. Instinctively, he tried to struggle back to his feet.

The dwarf cursed at him.

"Stay down or die, Librarian," the dwarven warrior shouted above the roar of the Blazebulls.

Flames singed the air where Juhg had stood. He squinted his eyes against the brightness. The scent of hot metal filled his nostrils. Glancing forward through the tight ranks of the dwarves, he saw the fiery breath of the Blazebulls crashing against the dwarven shield.

As quickly as it had come, the fiery breath died away.

Juhg gasped, only then realizing he had ceased breathing.

"Axes!" Varrowyn roared.

The dwarves rose as one. The warrior closest to Juhg reached down to haul him up. "C'mon, Librarian. Don't want to leave ye behind as we rout these unpleasant beasties."

Juhg nodded and stood on quaking legs as the dwarves surged forward. Arrows spiked the air as the Dread Riders released their bowstrings. Grymmlings came on, screaming and gibbering like mad things, their evil crystal knives flashing in the lantern light that filled the hall.