However, even if the people of that mighty civilization had once come here purely to stow books on a shelf, for the citizens of Underworld City, the Sea of Sand in general, and even the outskirts of the Empire, not to mention the barbarian kingdoms, this place was still mythical, mysterious, and desirable.
“Erra-”
“List,” the little golem interrupted Ramukhan. “Call me List. That’s what I was called back when I was created. The names Erra and Serra were given to us by the man in black. He liked them.”
Hadjar started. No one noticed it, except Einen, who was standing in a dark corner. With his eyes still half-closed, he observed what was happening intently.
“Honorable List,” the sorcerer saluted the girl in the manner of the Sea of Sand, “I, as well as my companions, would first like to know the full... list of books in the library.”
“The full list?” Erra’s smile was much more lifeless than her sister’s. “It would take a thousand years to go through it. Besides, I feel someone with bad intentions coming here. His power is great. His trials were far worse than yours, but my sister is leading him. They’ll be here soon.”
Glen slammed his fist against the wall, and the others frowned.
“Damned Sunshine Sankesh,” the Baliumian hissed. “How much time do we have, List?”
She closed her eyes. Her simple, beige dress fluttered in a nonexistent wind. She looked terribly ancient and terribly defenseless: an abandoned, lonely fragment of the distant past. For some reason, Hadjar felt a pang of sadness, but it was as if it were someone else’s sorrow.
“No more than a quarter of an hour,” the girl said.
“A quarter of an hour!”
“Damn it!”
“Only a quarter of an hour!”
The witches and the sorcerer stared at the treasure trove of information with the kind of horrified expressions Hadjar would have on his face while watching a ship full of Imperial level swords sinking.
“Can you help us, E- I mean, List?” He asked.
The little golem turned to Hadjar and looked into his eyes. Hadjar shuddered. The ageless, timeless quality in her lifeless eyes was even more suffocating to witness than the look in the sorceress’ Shadow’s eyes had been.
List was older than most of the stars in the sky. She’d appeared in the library the second the first clay tablet had been stored here. It had happened so long ago that by the time Mage City fell, no one who remembered this moment had still been alive. Hadjar was rarely so afraid that the rotten part of him wanted to turn around and run away. But now, he was as afraid as he’d ever been.
“You’ve passed the tests that were made for you,” she said, “and one who bears the weight of a Name on his shoulders is with you. Yes, I can help you.”
She waved her hand, and five replicas of her appeared beside her. They jumped off the balcony in unison. They fluttered their dresses until the golems hovered in the air. The girls froze in front of every squad member. The children’s pale hands reached out toward their cheeks. Hadjar plunged once more into the bottomless ocean of List’s eyes, and then found himself in front of an endless array of shelves. He stood in the middle of bright, white light, surrounded by the shelves filled with scrolls and books.
“The sword isn’t the most popular weapon in Mage City,” her voice sounded. Hadjar turned and saw the girl standing nearby. “Moreover, the true path of cultivation despises all weapons. All the power that should be harnessed is in our hearts.”
Hadjar presumed that he had just been given a hint, but he didn’t understand what the advice meant.
“I’m not looking for the Sword in your library-”
“I know what you’re looking for, Darkhan,” she interrupted him. “The same as any other person brought here by a northern wind. However, that knowledge is no longer in my possession.”
For a brief moment, Hadjar saw an image in his mind: a completely smashed and burned bookshelf, the charred fragments of ancient treatises scattered around it.
“But you have to remember them. You’re the Keeper of Knowledge.”
“I just keep track of the knowledge,” she said, shaking her head. “The Keeper was killed long ago.”
Hadjar’s suspicions only deepened.
“Show me,” he said.
He saw a memory, much more muddy and indistinct than what the Shadow had shown him. Through the haze of time, he could only make out silhouettes and fragments of voices. A golden-robed figure walked across the shards of mist that had enveloped the beautiful buildings of Mage City, heading toward a clump of black smoke.
“I... you... that... destroy…”
“…murderer…”
Then the vision changed. The same figure, wrapped in a golden light, walked over to a little girl lying on the floor of the library. Hadjar couldn’t hear what they were talking about. At the last moment, he saw the face of the creature lying at the feet of the golden monster. It looked just like Erra and Serra.
“She was your sister,” Hadjar breathed out.
The girl nodded.
“Who killed her?”
“I don’t know. It happened immediately after the destruction of the city. I still wonder why the creature didn’t destroy the library itself. There are many books here, Darkhan, but I can open none of them. I only have the knowledge of what they are, but their contents are an eternal mystery to me.”
Hadjar couldn’t even comprehend the torture that the little golem had endured. For ages, she’d been stuck in a place full of knowledge, but had had only one way to pass the time — reliving the day her sister had died over and over again.
Hadjar was sure of one thing — the entity that the Black General had fought against was the one who had destroyed the city and killed the library’s third golem. They’d certainly been very powerful because they’d managed to endure the onslaught of the wounded General of the God of War himself!
“I think these would be best suited to you, Darkhan.”
Hadjar felt her cold, lifeless hand touch his shoulder again. He wondered why little Serra’s hand was so different.
“Here is the scroll of the ‘Three Sword Rays’ Technique.”
Hadjar saw a vision again. On the edge of a hill somewhere, a white-robed Master stood. He was training with a sword. He transitioned smoothly from one stance to the next. Suddenly, his sword caught a ray of sunlight, and then the Master lunged. The captured beam burst from the tip of his blade. It was bright and thin, but insanely fast. Its power was so concentrated that it easily pierced through the mountain in front of the Master... The Master continued his training. He began to move with greater purpose, going even faster, and caught another ray of sunlight, a scarlet one this time. The Master made a wide swing, and the red crescent of the unleashed beam of light cut off the distant peak of that same mountain.
The Master merged the scarlet and golden rays. The new, orange ray combined the penetrating power of the first stance and the cutting power of the second one. With a roar, kicking up a tsunami of dust, the mountain crumbled, cut into thousands of boulders.
“Or the ‘Movement of the Soft Grass’ scroll.”
The Master with the sword-beam bowed and disappeared, replaced by another. After demonstrating several movements, he made an elusive gesture and... Seemed to move a mile to the side, launching another mighty attack that left a trench several yards deep in the ground.