The Library of Wisdom
40th of Anael, the first month of snow.
“Shit, shit, shit.” Maxwell quietly swore as he read through the new book. “We are so screwed.”
Shamus, the library assistant, stepped into the room, “Is there a problem Master Smithson?”
“Call me Max, or Maxwell if you must. The honorifics go out the door after a while.” Max took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yes. There is a problem.” He pushed the open book over to Shamus, who sat down and took the book.
Shamus winced, “Well shit.”
“Yup.”
“Any idea what to do?”
“Nope.”
“Maybe we should ask her for help?”
“Probably.” Max frowned. “I hate to say it, but I’m out of my depth at this point.”
“You and me both.” Shamus replied with a frown.
A short while later the rest of the assistants arrived, and Max briefed them on the new book. Cussing was heard all around the table.
-
It had been two hours, and Maxwell stood in a new (to him) room in The Library, The Auditorium. He stood on the large, well-lit stage, next to a couple of priests and their assistants. Before him were rows upon rows of seats that stretched up into the darkness of the ceiling. You could fit thousands of people in here! He thought as he went over his notes for the umpteenth time. With god-foolery, probably tens of thousands. I wonder if this is what the Bard of Rio meant when he talked about “Stadiums”?
Wisdom stepped up to him, interrupting his thoughts, “Are you ready for your first address?”
“Not my first presentation, but yes, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” Max replied, shaking his head slightly. “What did Tristan used to say? Ah, “Not my first rodeo”.”
Wisdom blinked, “What is a “Rodeo”?”
“No clue.” Max shrugged, “Something about cattle and horses. I dozed off when he tried to explain it.”
“Huh.”
“How long until we start?”
“The symposium will start when most of the attendees have arrived. I believe that will be in about half an hour.”
“Just what I need, more time to wait.” Max took a deep breath and released it, “Reminds me of the army.”
-
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It took most of an hour for the auditorium to fill, and Max paced behind the stage for the whole time. Finally, after several addresses from other “respectable” scholars, Max walked quietly out onto the stage. He looked at the wide expanse of filled seats, and the few people standing in the back, and sighed. “Alright, most of you know who I am, but for those of you who don’t, I am Maxwell Smithson, the Heretic.”
A mild amount of panic was experienced in several parts of the auditorium, but quieted down fairly quickly. “Yes, I know, by reputation I should kill all of you. I’m not here for that. Today.
“Today I am here because something was found in the world below. Something old. Something powerful. Something dangerous. Something the Old Gods left behind and forgot. An Elemental.”
There were some gasps across the audience, but most looked on, waiting for the big reveal, so Max continued after rolling his eyes, “As I believe most of you are aware, Elementals were created by the Old God Gehna, in the dawn of our world. They were his…her…their children; children not involved in the so called “Children’s War” at the dawning of the age of mortals, and therefore ignored by most.
“Over the millennia many of Gehna’s children have been found wandering the land, or bedded down in their own element. Some have bred themselves down to tiny things, such as the Forge Fire elementals so favored by smiths; while others have grown monstrous in size.
“But never has one been found that was sealed away by Gehna’s own hand.” Max looked out over the crowd, trying to sense its sway. “On the 24th of Anael, a devastating “once in a millennium” storm struck the city of Dragon; look in the pamphlet you received at the door for more information on the city and surrounding regions. This storm, plus other proceeding factors, unsealed a series of wards that were placed inside an ancient cistern that Wisdom’s scholars date to the era of the Old Gods.
“Due to countless hours of research, we now know the meaning of the broken wards that were found at the site: Binding. Specifically, the warding and binding of a single Elemental. An Elemental of such power that the spells holding it in place are beyond the power of even the Twelve to reproduce.
“And that, Ladies, Gentlemen, Both, and Neither, is why we are gathered here this fateful day. We are here to formulate a plan to capture and eliminate an Elemental of such power and force, that even Gehna was afraid of its existence.”
-
City of Dragon, Snows Provence, Kingdom of Garthia
40th of Anael, the first month of snow.
Night
The world was dark when it oozed from its ancient prison. It made its slow way to the bright lights, and slipped through the miniscule crack under the door of a…Dwelling? The thoughts were new to it, but it liked the thoughts. It made its way across the stone floor of the dwelling, but found nothing to consume. Slowly, carefully, it slid one tendril and then another up a step, then contracted itself to flow up after. One step at a time. Over and over. It was tired when it made it to the top of the steps, but continued the search for food. Food it found in the closest room.
It made its way slowly up a “Bed Post” and onto the attached bed. It slithered across the sheets, over the face of the food, and ate. When it was done, it moved to the other form in the bed; the “wife” she was called, it now knew; and ate again. Somewhat sated, the thing allowed itself to drop to the floor and wriggle back out the “Bedroom door”. Its next meal was just down the hall, a door marked with a colorful sign that read “Nursery”.
-
Max watched as panic and fear raced through the audience. Why is it always “panic AND fear”? Why not one or the other? Do they always have to go hand in tentacle? He thought, shaking his head as the auditorium emptied much more quickly than it had filled. In moments, a mere hundred attendees remained of the more than a thousand who had attended.
Max nodded to the remnants that remained, “Alright, now that we’ve thinned the herd, let us adjourn to a more comfortable room for coffee and a more detailed discussion of the facts at hand.”
A few minutes of walking found the group in an overly large room that was filled with boards of slate, comfortable lounge chairs, couches, tables, and tablets of wax and paper. Piles of pens lay next to ink pots and boxes of colored chalk. As they filed in, a shiny pot in one corner gurgled, emitting the comforting aroma of fresh coffee. Maxwell happily filled a large ceramic mug of the dark nectar, turned to the assembled group, and smiled his best smile. “Let’s get started.”