~Chapter Four: The Second Floor~

Varin’s library was shaped like a swirling conch shell, with four gates separating the upward spiral into sections. Eola hurried through the first section—the general public stacks that were divided into four sections, with reading and study desks in between them. That was all mundane academic texts, an occasional romance novel, cultists’ treatises on Y’aer, and boring stuff like that.

The good stuff—magical theory, combat magic, and so on—was more restricted than the books meant for the general public. And finding it was more dangerous.

Librarians stalked the first of the five floors, hunting what monsters slipped past the gate at the end of the first floor—and the ones that appeared naturally in what was supposed to be a safe area. They’d be helpful if she needed someone, except they didn’t enter the second floor all that often. That was what the whistle was for. If she found something she wasn’t equipped to handle, she was supposed to whistle and then try to survive until help came.

It was half of the school-issued equipment that every student brought into the library. The other half was a combination identifying badge and key.

Like all students at Varin’s, Eola wore a silver badge on her robe’s right breast that told everyone her year, cohort, dorm room, and last name. It also carried an ensorcellment. A key. She’d clipped it to her armor when she’d gotten changed.

Eola spent fifteen minutes scrolling through the library’s first-year catalog and found three books that matched the research subject on her list. All three were in the beginning battle-magic section, Row Twenty-Three, Shelf Fourteen—and according to the magical book bound to a marble plinth at the first floor’s very center, all three were still available. There were several other books on other, related subjects, but the first three were her best bet.

Her badge glowed brightly as she approached the first gate and the librarian guarding it.

“Back again, Miss Lemiene?” The balding, white-bearded man leaned on a spear, armored from knee to throat. “Another all-nighter?”

“I hope not, Tagg.” Eola walked to the gate and pressed her badge against its center, and the silvered iron portcullis slid into the floor, opening the path through a long, dark tunnel. On the far side, the second floor awaited.

“You’re armed and ready. Good luck in there.”

“Thanks. See you soon.”

The portcullis slid shut behind Eola, and she crept forward until she found herself standing on the gently sloping marble floor of the first-years’ section, surrounded by books. Thousands of books in a hundred aisles, with a central passage splitting them in two. Each shelf was seven feet high—all the way to the low ceiling—and they’d been packed in as tightly as the library could fit them and still have room for monsters to move. There were supposed to be Bright Balls floating around, but they burnt out after a while, shrouding the shelves in twilight.

She summoned her own and threw it as far as she could down the main hall. It cast shadows down the rows as it flew, then stopped mid-air where the path’s curve cut her line of sight off.

“Time to get moving, Miss Lemiene,” Tagg said from the far side of the gateway.

Most schools used their dungeons as tests for their students. Only Varin’s used their dungeon as prep for their tests. Eola snorted to herself.

Then she nodded and set off without a reply.

Row Twenty-Three, Shelf Fourteen was her first target. Eola climbed the curving marble floor, her mom’s smallsword in front of her in First Guard and her casting hand wrapped around her dad’s wand. Her head swiveled between aisles, and her heart pounded in her chest as she counted the rows. Her first time in the library had been worse. She’d been jumped almost the moment the gate—

She stopped. A light flickered in Row Fifteen. Not a Bright Ball, either; where the Bright Ball looked like a cross between a balloon and a miniature, yellow-white sun, this one flickered like orange fire. “A monster? Already?” It’d be easy to ignore it. Nine rows were probably enough to give it the slip. But if not…if not, she’d have a threat behind her.

One deep breath to steady herself, and she peeked down the row of shelves.

Muted yellow scales. Vaguely lizard-like. Maybe six feet tall—almost a foot taller than Eola. Broad shoulders, but arms and legs that felt far too thin and long for their joints. Narrow eyes, staring at the books. And, of course, lots and lots of teeth. It carried a torch, so it was sapient—and might even have a fire or ash attunement. A trog.

Eola shivered; the thinking ones were the worst. Then she stepped between the shelves, wand-hand already drawing the Safe Shield symbol. The monster turned. Its nostrils sniffed, and its eyes went wide.

So did Eola’s. The trog reeked. She choked on her own bile, but kept herself upright as the trog hissed and closed the gap between them. Mom had drilled that much into her—lose her footing, lose her fight. She took a single, shuffling step forward, left arch slapping her right heel. Then she dropped into a stop-thrust.

The sword made contact. It punched into the thing’s gut, and the smell of mold redoubled as foul breath erupted from its maw in a howl. The Safe Shield rune hung in the air in front of her. The trog’s heavy wooden torch whipped forward. Eola ducked behind the symbol, releasing enough Mana to fill it three times over.

The Safe Shield solidified. The trog’s blow slammed into it, a foot from Eola’s head. Sparks rained onto her braided hair. Eola bit back a scream of her own and moved her wrist, sketching a new rune as the trog recoiled and swung again and again. A raindrop symbol, with two more drops in the middle. Well Water. A simple cantrip, but one that’d take the trog’s main advantage away—and save her hair.

Small victories.

Safe Shield buckled, then broke. Well Water finished above Eola as her black hair smoldered. Then it collapsed, and she gasped as her whole body was drenched in icy-cold water. The trog pressed in. Eola lunged again, then a third time, and the monster faltered. It dropped to a knee, howling wordlessly, and Eola thrust her smallsword through its throat.

It dragged Eola’s sword down as it collapsed, then slid off the blade. She didn’t move. The fight had been closer than it had any right to be. Sure, it had been quick and simple. Her second battle in the library had been a running fight against a half-dozen trogs all the way from Row Thirty-Five back to the gate, blowing furiously on her whistle the whole time until Tagg crashed into the last four monsters and wiped them out with a Second Order spell that shot calcified spikes through them. But quick didn’t mean safe, and she’d been lucky. Another half-second, and the torch would have crushed her chest or skull instead of the Safe Shield.

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She could have died.

Eola watched the thing’s body for a full minute, letting herself turn angry instead of scared, before she moved. Then she marched back to the gate, her face hot and her breathing fast. Dark, red-brown footprints stained the tiled floor everywhere she stepped, but she didn’t care. She stopped at the iron portcullis, hands on her hips. “Didn’t you hear all that, Tagg?”

“’Course I heard it, Miss Lemiene,” the old librarian said casually.

“Then why didn’t you help me?”

Tagg stared at her, still leaning on his spear. “If you don’t blow the whistle, we don’t come running—no matter the monster. Those are the rules. You’re a competent enough girl to know that. Now get in there and find your study materials. My shift ends in an hour, and I’d like to know you’re safe before then.”

Eola huffed, turned on her heel, and headed back into the library. Tagg was right. She had work to do.

Eola pulled herself together quickly. Yes, she could have died. And yes, trogs were horrible, gross creatures. But she’d also fought the reeking monster about as poorly as she could have. She’d given the disgusting thing almost three seconds to react. Next time, she’d be faster. Next time, she’d have the Safe Shield cantrip finished and ready for Mana before she stepped into the row. She might not have the First Order spells that’d really make a difference, but she could take care of herself.