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Chapter 4 - Seeking Knowledge
Percy was taking way too long to find the right books. Countless minutes had passed - at least three for sure - and the blob of his companion meandered lost amongst the many rows of dried-out manuscripts. Goreblaster sat hunched over the table; hands gripped tightly to the edge. It was anxiety-inducing enough without the two gnomes constantly needling him, and now he couldn’t even focus on the panic with their distracting high-pitched voices pricking through the silence.
“Percy, have you got it yet?” he hissed as silently and loudly as he could. Despite his disdain for the library, he still played by the rules. At least until the building gave him a good reason to stab it.
“Got book yet?” “Annoying books, scary!”
Goreblaster clenched his teeth and gave the small fae creatures the deadliest stare he could muster. It was only through his sheer immense will that he had been resisting the urge to splatter the miscreants. Ignoring the fact he had done that twice already. Researching a solution through reading old books was not his idea of a heroic solution. A wizard could probably do it, he assumed, but all the ones he knew had turned evil - and thus dead.
Percy bulged his way back into the open tabled area of the library, a stack of three tombs in his human-like claws. “These should do for a starting point,” he warbled, quietly so as to not disturb the peace.
It had not escaped Goreblaster that they were the only ones present in the library currently. He wasn’t sure whether the lack of dreary-eyed book munchers sauntering lethargically throughout the crisscross of dull annuls was a good thing or not. It was something unwanted but expected, and their absence was a relief yet worrying. But for now, he had bigger, gnome-shaped fish to fry.
“This first one is for you to look through. It is mostly pictures and large words.”
“No need to patronise me, Percy,” Goreblaster growled, taking the red, leatherbound book from the man and flicking through the pages until he found something he liked.
“That’s just sad.” “Yeah, pitiful.”
The manager/assistant sat down next to the barbarian with the other two books, which Goreblaster glanced over to risk learning the titles of the hopefully helpful tomes.
CURSES WHAT YE FIND IN YE GARDEN
LITTLE BAD THINGS AND THEIR EXPULSION
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Goreblaster paled and returned to his pictures. Percy was about to do some learning, and he wanted nothing to do with it. All he wanted was solutions and maybe a back massage. Thoughts of if he could wrangle the gnomes into doing his bidding, and how many he would need for a sufficient rub (as in massage), filtered through his head as he idly glanced at the amusing diagrams depicted on the pages before him.
“Hey, hey, hey.” “Hey, hey, hey.” The gnomes stood on their chairs and began chanting at the barbarian, who tried hiding his head in the book.
“You two will need to pipe down if I am going to find any answers here,” Percy chided, as he flipped open the first page, the creamy paper reflecting in his thick glasses, like thick cream in a glass.
“Sorry, Uncle Perc,” “Sorry” the gnomes sat down with quietened tone.
For a second, Goreblaster forgot his location-centric woes and raised his eyebrows at the pair. “Uncle?” he snorted, “And why do you listen to him, not me?”
“Gore-Gore cursed to die.” “By annoyance!”
The barbarian took a deep breath and closed his eyes. They were not going to get the best of him right now. Percy would find a solution, and they’d do it, and he could get back to adventuring and slaying beasts and evil-doers for fame and adoration. Back to the monster-of-the-week where there was nothing carried over from one to the next and he was free of any continuity or permanent character growth.
“First book isn’t much use,” Percy shrugged, shutting it with a clomp that sent dust pluming into the air. “Let me cast my eyes upon the second; otherwise back to the shelves.”
Goreblaster groaned - a setback. “Why can’t you little freaks just tell me how to get rid of you?”
“Oh we could” “But we aren’t going to!”
“Please?!” Goreblaster’s fingers dug into the pages of the book, crumpling pages with a sound that would send any librarian into a cold sweat.
“No, no-no.” “No! Well…”
“Well?” The barbarian's eyes widened as he leant forward on the table towards the two gnomes.
“If you can catch us…” “We will tell you!”
Goreblaster leapt across the table - but they had already gone. He rolled over to the top to the other side, the furniture creaking beneath his (pure muscle) weight as he dropped behind the chairs. The scurrying of teeny tiny footsteps around the corner of a bookcase reverberated slightly in the otherwise silent room - only occasionally punctuated by the sighs or turning of paper by Percy.
The barbarian caught sight of a gnome disappearing behind a second shelf of disgustingly old books and rolled around, slashing the length of Pureheart through the dried-out wood and aged, thin paper - a hideous crunch as the shelves collapsed, sending previously mentioned paperwork sprawling to the floor like a tidal wave of the most unwet water possible.
Paper with a streak of red gnome blood through it.
“We said catch, not kill!” “Are you deaf and dumb?” “And short?” The new, third voice coming from somewhere else in the maze of literacy.
Goreblaster’s knuckles whitened as he gripped his magic sword tighter, a slight shake wobbling the blade which began to glow blue.
“Gore, I don’t think that is a good-”
The assistant/manager was cut off as Goreblaster cut through another stack of books in search of the foul-tongued gnome, blue streaks of light filling the dingy library with a brief glow with each swing.
“Looks like.” “You will never.” “Learn the.” “Secret to getting.” “Rid of us!”
Now at least five sources of the high-pitched mocking clattered around the walls, straight into the ears of Goreblaster.