Chapter Fifty-One: What News From Kyralia?

Nothing, I repeat, nothing, beats the peace one can find in a library. Libraries are, to the gentle minded, a place to be alone, to escape from the world and to think. Their quiet rooms and book filled corridors give such places an almost sacred hush. And, converse to other buildings, the larger a library is, the more peace that can be found. Which is why the Great Library of Elyne was considered one of the great sanctuaries of Capia. Filled with knowledge and the chance for solitude, there are not many people who would struggle to enjoy spending time here, if they were willing to set aside more worldly pleasures for an hour or so. Not even a bad mood could take away from the peace of this place. And Tayend of Tremmalin was in a particularly bad mood.

It was bad enough that half of his soul had been pulled from him to report back to Kyralia, but now Irand had send him on a wild goose chase to find references to an ancient Elyne artist for a noble at court. Tayend cursed the man softly under his breath as he almost dropped a particularly valuable text. Why didn't the man just come down here and do his research for himself?! Oh, but of course, that would be beneath him. So, here Tayend was, a well-regarded scholar, a highly successful linguist and proficient academic, demoted to hefting giant tomes around the place so that some portly courtier could play the great philosopher. It was almost too much to bear.

As he finally reached his destination, he realised, with a grunt of frustration, that he didn't have a free hand to open the door to Irand's office. He considered knocking, but he knew the crotchety old man on the other side of the door would just shout at him to do it himself.

Where is my tamed, handsome magician when I need him?

Dannyl's sudden departure with his little rogue had been unsettling for them both, particularly at such a delicate stage in their relationship. Tayend's spies at court had already heard the whispers of a new piece of gossip, one that had far more weight to it than the previous ones. Tayend felt a wave of guilt, then annoyance at himself for feeling that way. Why should he feel guilty? They had broken no laws, the only offences they had committed were social ones. There should be no shame in being in love. But whilst the Elynes thought the situation amusing, the Guild wouldn't. And this could all come back to haunt Dannyl for a very long time, and that was where the source of Tayend's guilt lay. So, he was in a bad mood.

With an effort, he managed to use an elbow to push the door handle down, and then slammed it shut with a plimsole-clad foot once inside.

"You know what would make this job far, far easier?" he said, dropping the books down with a bang on the heavy oak table.

Irand looked up from his desk that was positioned at the head of the table Tayend stood at and glared at him. "By all the known saints, Tayend, if you dare mention that stupid cataloguing system again—"

"It's not stupid, Irand, I am serious," Tayend said. "Look, all the other great museums and places of learning across the Allied Lands are doing it, I've seen it. The world is changing. If the library is going to survive, we need to modernise."

Irand's expression became dangerous. "Young Tremmalin, this place was old before you were even a flicker in your mother's womb, and it will still be here long after your name has been eroded away on your gravestone." He pointed his pen at Tayend imperiously. "Don't insult the library by attempting to change it just because you noticed a few differences in how some old professor in Lonmar organises his modest display of books on your travels."

Tayend let out a slight snort of amusement, and began to sort the books, checking the names against the list of titles that he had been given. He realised there was really no point having this argument today, Irand was clearly not in the mood to listen. "You're in as a good a humour as me today, I see."

Irand only grunted in response, and went back to the notes he was making from a book of ancient poetry that he had propped up next to him. A knock came at the office door.

"Enter," Irand called. A young messenger came in, bowed and approached Irand, letter in hand.

"Ah, it's from the Guild," Irand said, in a slightly more cheerful voice, taking the letter from the messenger. Tayend looked up quickly, noting the flash of the gold Guild seal on the envelope that had Irand's name neatly inscribed upon it.

"Anything for me with it?" he asked the messenger, trying to sound casual.

"I'm afraid not, sorry, sir," the young man replied. He bowed again and left the room. Tayend thought he noticed an unnecessary anxiety in the messenger's gait as he hurried out. He sighed quietly- still no letter from the Guild.

He had to admit he was a little irritated at Dannyl. He must have been back in Kyralia for, oh, a fortnight now at least, and yet he still hadn't written. But then again, perhaps the situation with Farand was taking up a lot of time. There were probably endless meetings to be held, statements to be made, and a trial to be organised too. Still, it wouldn't take Dannyl quarter of an hour just to write that he and his charge had arrived safely, surely…

"So, what news from Kyralia?" Tayend asked nonchalantly, trying to distract himself from such thoughts. He knew Irand had kept up a regular correspondence with the old Guild historian, Solend, for many years, which had allowed the Guild and Library to informally share news and, not that either man would ever admit it, gossip. Indeed, Tayend had even wondered if their correspondence was a sign of a deeper relationship between the two men, but had the educated politeness to have never asked, as much as he may have wanted to.

When Irand didn't reply to his question, Tayend looked up from his sorting. The librarian's face had gone completely white, and he seemed to be reading and rereading the script on the page as if it wasn't making sense to him. "Irand? What is it?"

The librarian looked at him with a terrible stare, eyes wide. "Sit down, Tayend," he said softly. "This is not good news."

Tayend felt fear rush through him as he sat down on the nearest chair to him. "Dannyl—" he began.

Irand held up a placatory hand. "No, it's not about him. Well, not specifically."

"Oh," Tayend said, relief began to replace his anxiety, then curiosity silenced both. "Well, what is it, then?"

Irand swallowed thickly. "It appears that the Guild is about to come under siege from a band of evil-magic-wielding bandits from the Sachakan wastelands," Irand began calmly, as if reciting a passage from one of the many history books that covered the walls. "Once the Guild is destroyed, which seems almost inevitable, they will come for the rest of the Allied Lands. We're all about to be eradicated, it seems."

Silence filled the room as Tayend couldn't do anything except gape at the old man. "I'm sorry- let me get this straight. The Guild is about to be… attacked? By a group of people they can't defeat?!"

"It seems that way- Solend thinks their chances of driving out this 'Ichani', as they are called, before they are able to take over Imardin, are almost null."

"I have never heard of…Ichani? Have you?"

"The word echoes in my head like the lyrics of a song I used to know, but I couldn't tell you any more than that."

"But how could this…band, you say, defeat all of the Guild? There are at least a hundred magicians in Imardin!"

"Apparently this particular type of magic makes them very strong, ten times as strong as the average magician. So, all they need is ten of them to rival the entire Guild."

Tayend considered this for a little time. He noticed how his hands had started to shake. Then the full meaning of Irand's last comment came to him. "Elyne is the nearest of the Allied Lands to Kyralia," he said softly.

Irand nodded shakily. "Quite."

"So they'll… be here next. If the Allied Lands is what they want, Elyne is the next logical step."

"Unless the Guild can find some way to stop them in less than a week." Irand passed a hand over his face.

"Well, does the High Lord have a plan?"

"Well now we get to it," the Librarian looked back to the letter, and pointed himself to a passage of the text. "The High Lord and his novice have both been found guilty of learning the same magic that these Sachakans use and have been exiled. So no, he doesn't appear to have a plan. It's all on King Merin at this point." With that, Irand put his elbows on the desk and put his clenched fists to his temples.

Suddenly, Tayend remembered the book he had found in Royend's house- the one that explained the 'higher magics' they had only found brief references to before. He remembered how Dannyl's face had paled, how he had slammed the book shut with brutal force and pushed it away from him with all his might. The way he had suddenly decided that they needed to confront Royend much earlier than intended. He had never properly explained his reaction to Tayend, but now the pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together in the scholar's head, pulled by the invisible thread of understanding. What if that book contained information on how to use the same magic that these Sachakans used? And, therefore, what if Dannyl had discovered evidence that the High lord had learnt the same thing? No wonder he had looked as ill as he had.

But none of that really mattered now. At any rate, the Guild was about to be attacked, and without a leader to guide them or the resources to protect them. And the love of his life was there- probably feeling rather alone and very, very scared. The thought of Dannyl, and the possibility of not saying goodbye, made Tayend feel sick to his stomach. No, he couldn't allow Dannyl to

"Well, then there's only one thing for it," he mused aloud.

Irand lifted his head out of his hands. "Oh, and what would that be?"

"I need to go to Kyralia." Tayend stood, and started making a mental list of all things he needed to do before he left. All the things he needed to pack, all the apologies he would need to write. Considering the lack of time he had, he would have to go by ship- regardless of how much he hated it. A carriage would take far too long.

Irand was shaking his head at him. "Tayend, I don't think you understand. They—"

"I understand perfectly, thank you Irand," Tayend said, interrupting him for the second time. "But if anyone- you, the Guild or these evil magic wielding bandits, thinks I am going to leave Dannyl, the best thing that has ever happened to me, to face such an awful thing alone, then you are all dreaming. He needs me. So I'm going. He went to Irand, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Goodbye, my dear friend. Until we meet again."

Irand managed a weak smile. Tayend smiled back, hoping that he looked more confident than he felt, and strode out of the room, swiftly made his way to the entrance to the library. He hoped that the carriage that normally standing by was available. As he almost ran down the marbled halls, something occurred to him.

Suddenly, the library didn't feel as peaceful any more.

So I have a lot of people who read my story who come from Europe/ the EU. Firstly, thank you for being here! Secondly, can I just say on behalf of my entire nation... I am really, really sorry. I hate to bring up the word, but Brexit is the most messed up thing I have witnessed in all my years of being alive, and you guys must be as sick of it as we are. I am so sorry, we are acting like unwelcoming, childish amateurs. We, the people that is, still love the EU. We still want to be friends. Sending love across the channel. In much happier news, I'll be back soon with a chapter I started writing a looong time ago, and now I get to share it with you…finally. Cece xox