Ruins Falling Page 2

  “But we can’t just do whatever it takes. I wouldn’t put it past the Princes to lock the doors forever if they’re scared enough.” He paused, twitching his whiskers. “We’re going to have to be really careful, Devirah. If we lose control, we could ruin everything we’ve fought for.”

  “Then tell him to put the book back. Use a ghostly voice, like their horror stories. Then we won’t have to chase him down and pull it out of his robes or anything—as long as he listens.”

  He turned, and a smile tugged at the corners of his snout. “Tacky.”

  “Very,” she agreed, grinning back. “But if it works, so what?”

  He shook his head, scowling, but a smile played at his lips. “If I have to be so tacky, then I at least get to start the fun.” She felt a bit of a breeze as Azaryah shifted into a fly, and buzzed up and away. She chuckled to herself, but closed her eyes and made herself reappear on top of the shelf where Merantha was dusting. She could see Bertie’s left side as he dusted close to the aisle. Devirah looked above him just in time to see a flash of silver. A tawny owl swooped down behind the man, angled his wings, and just before sinking in his talons into the servant’s back, disappeared in silver vapor and twinkling light once more.

  Dust blew everywhere, and Bertie began coughing as he stumbled down the ladder. Devirah grinned, searching for Azaryah. Eventually, she caught sight of a tiny black speck floating into the air and disappearing through the rails of the second story. Again, there was a brief silver vapor that disappeared almost instantly, a few specks of light that lingered a fraction of a moment longer, and a mouse was peering over the bookcase. She tried not to laugh, and again had to use her paws to cover her mouth. She had to muffle her laughter again when she saw Bertie’s face covered in gray dust and confusion. He sneezed.

  “What happened?” Devirah glanced down at the woman, who was still dusting.

  “A draft,” he choked. “It blew dust in my face.” He turned and sneered at her as he wiped his eyes again. “Must be a hole somewhere in the stone.” Even so, Merantha shuddered as she turned back to her bookshelf. Bertie chuckled, picked up the duster he’d dropped, and began dusting on the backside of his first shelf. “So do you think there are any copies of the King’s journal in here?” he asked casually, turning and watching her reaction.

  Devirah frowned as she watched Merantha shrug. “What’s that?”

  “Some magic book, from what I’ve heard,” Bertie replied, still watching her. “The Princes outlawed it a few years ago. I’ve never seen once myself.”

  “Prob’ly not then.”

  Bertie smiled in what Devirah was sure was satisfaction. “So what’s the story with the ghosts, then? Is it the usual story—someone killed themselves in here, or was murdered?”

  “Wasn’t just one,” she grumbled. “Most were kilt in the hall.”

  Devirah winced.

  “Wait—what? Are you talking about when the castle was attacked? How much do you know?” For the first time, Bertie turned his shoulders and eyes, and stared devotedly at her. “I’ve never heard the whole story. Nobody seems to know it, and I can’t figure out why.”

  Merantha looked over at him, lifted her chin, and then turned back to the shelf. “I know. I was brought from Citadel Karkrieg to help clean the mess.”

  “The mess?”

  Merantha became the scoffer now, her lips curling to reveal rather large white teeth. Her hand was more forceful with her duster, and dust scattered in her black hair, aging her prematurely. “Don’t you think if there were a rat, and a castle betrayed, there there’d be blood to clean?”

  Bertie hesitated a moment. His cheeks grew a little paler. “How many?”

  “More than I know. More’n half,” Merantha replied coldly, turning back to the shelf. “And those that survived left quick after that. They couldn’t bear it no more.” Now she was the one to look down her lengthy nose at him. “Not many know, and few who know wanna to talk. The Princes told that people were kilt, Knights and a couple Princes, that someone was a rat and gave ‘em up, but they hushed up as much as they could. They didn’t want to let people know so many died. And those that lived didn’t wanna talk anyway. A bunch of families died. Imagine your parents, your brother and sisters all dyin’, and you livin’. You prob’ly wouldn’t talk, neither.” She shrugged. “Pretty terrible.” She turned back and continued dusting.

  Devirah turned away from the servants momentarily to search for Azaryah again. He peered down at her from between the rails over Bertie’s head. She’d been his friend many, many years. She knew him well. And as their eyes met once more, she could read the grief there, no matter what form he possessed, and knew that his grief was mirrored in her own eyes.

  Bertie’s soft voice broke the silence like a board crashing through a window. “There’s two hundred servants working in the castle right now. So…over a hundred dead?”

  “Yeah, but that’s just servants. You’re not countin’ Princes and warriors.”

  “So…well, maybe one hundred or more servants, and then at least double that for…” He stared a moment, and turned back to his bookshelf. “Why don’t I remember this?”

  “I doubt you heard much from your kin. You’re what, eighteen years?” Merantha asked. She stopped dusting, and studied him a moment. “You’d be only ten or eleven when it happened. And I doubt your kin ever talked about it ‘round you. They probably knew little, anyway—they came after me. ‘Sides, like I said, the Princes hushed it up. Didn’t wanna cause panic. They pushed people to leave, too, ‘cause of battle fatigue. They weren’t right in the head. So only a couple people here would remember much.” She smirked. “Like me.”

  “So how’d it happen?”

  Her smirk fell into a grimace. “Dunno. The Princes just said not to worry, that they found and kilt the rats. Anyway, we get paid better here in this castle than anywhere else, so I stayed, but most people left quick—even new servants. I came late—never saw bodies or nothin’. Lots of blood, but I took it easier than most.” She smirked a little again, showing her large white teeth once more. “It messed with them. That, and this libury.”

  “Because of ghosts, yeah.” Bertie looked around curiously, as if expecting blood to start dripping from the rafters. His forehead wrinkled as he frowned. Devirah was startled to realize that he was sad. “Who died in here?” he finally asked.

  “Dunno.” The woman turned and raised an eyebrow at him. Her smirk turned into a full-fledged grin. “But I heard some of ‘em were chilldurn.”

  Devirah saw a glimpse of Bertie’s glare before she looked down. She closed her eyes, and a shudder slipped down her back. The woman’s words were more powerful than she’d expected them to be. Still, the woman kept speaking, her words slurring together in Devirah’s ears. Years had passed, but the memories swept over her in white and red, with the sounds of screams and wails. So many had died. So many bodies. And those who had died in this room…she would never forget their faces, never forget their names…and never forget that she’d failed to protect them…

  Merantha was almost right. This room had once been an extravagant apartment, a guest apartment for other important leaders of the nations. But there were already five others. So this one had been made into a marvelous children’s playroom. There were two bedrooms on top, where all the upper shelves were currently. There was an open playroom beneath those. And in the back behind a wall, with the wide fireplace and windows, was a classroom with books and art supplies. The other guest apartment, almost identical in its layout, was to be the library.

  Until the attack. And then the children’s rooms were torn apart, as if to try and kill even the memory of those who had once played there. The back of the bedrooms were opened up, the floor of the second story was cut open down the middle, everything was finished by craftsman to look beautiful again, and then shelves were made. After that, books were wildly gathered and thrown into the library with no order. A few chairs and desks joined them later, to make it look
less chaotic. But afterward, few entered this place. Only an old, lonely Knight, the one Azaryah and Devirah had come to dearly love—Graedin. Once in a great while, an angry, grieving Prince. And a couple of children who didn’t know what the room’s history held.

  And as years passed, Devirah and Azaryah decided to keep it that way. For they’d seen the destruction, and knew that there wasn’t much interested in the library anymore. But anyone who grew too curious they chased away, all saved the Prince, the Knight and the two children. Because if anyone needed sanctuary from the rest of the castle, it was them.

  “—Whatever this room was before,” Merantha was saying now, “they tore it apart in a hurry. Then made it a libury. Grabbed all the books in the castle and threw ‘em in.”

  Her callousness made the ache in Devirah’s chest begun to burn. She grit her teeth, and refocused her mind. They couldn’t lose control. They would ruin all that they’d fought to defend, for seven years. She looked up at Azaryah. His tense posture was broken only when he gave her a brief, angry nod. They’d always agreed on a silly sort of vow: “Confuse, don’t abuse.” But his warning came back to her now—You haven’t heard her talk yet. She knew what he meant by his nod now, too. Whatever it takes. Devirah inhaled, and closed her eyes tightly. Whatever it takes. She wanted that book back. But if she could get Merantha to shut up, she’d do that too.

  When she opened her eyes, she sat on the floor just behind Merantha’s ladder. “The thing is,” Merantha continued gossiping, “there weren’t no rumors ‘bout ghosts till it was done. So they must’ve died in the attack.” Devirah glanced up. Bertie was dusting with his nose crinkled. At her angle, all she saw was nose hair. But while he was listening intently, he was more focused on his work than before. The woman had turned to the right. She stretched out her mouse paws and tail, shifted into a large dog, waited till Merantha’s hand lifted off the shelf, and shoved the ladder.

  Merantha shrieked. Devirah immediately shifted into a mouse again, small and brown and almost unnoticeable against the bottom shelf, and lay still. The woman clung tightly to the ladder as it thudded to a hard stop near the aisle. She’d dropped her duster, and now stumbled off the ladder backward onto her backside. Bertie looked over, and laughed.

  “Something p-pushed m-my lad-der!” she gasped.

  He began laughing again, until a loud a sudden crash! echoed in the hall. Both of the servants jumped. Then they stared at one another a moment. Merantha began to walk about her shelf and Bertie jumped down from his ladder to look. Devirah scampered after them. Almost at the same time, their mouths dropped open. The heavy cart Merantha had wheeled in was pushed onto its side. One wheel spun slowly, rags and cleaning supplies were spilled on the floor, and an empty bucket was rolling back and forth. A little buzzing fly drifting up toward the ceiling.

  Bertie’s jaw clenched. “Someone shoved the cart over.”

  “Ye don’t say?!” Merantha’s lower lip was trembling now.

  He turned and glared at her. “I mean, someone is in here. I bet they heard your ghost stories and decided to play pranks on us. Go see if anyone is in the corridor, then guard the door. I’ll see if I can find whoever got in here.”

  Devirah grinned, closed her eyes, and transported herself to sit on the spines of the last row of books. She looked over the edge of the wood. The books weren’t shoved against the back of the shelf—they were pulled forward toward, so there was empty space behind the book leaves. She scrambled down between the books and the back of their shelf. Then she shifted into a cat, and books began spilling off the shelf as she pushed down its length. She heard Merantha shriek in surprise when the books began hitting the ground. When she finished, Devirah shoved off one last book with her paw, feeling very pleased with her small form of mayhem.

  “Who—who’s there?!” The woman’s already high voice cracked.

  “Show yourself!” Bertie shouted. Devirah shifted into a moth form and floated back on top of the last shelf, watching Merantha shaking as she stepped back toward the door, and Bertie stomping down the aisle. “You won’t scare us off or make our job harder with your pranks, you cur! Not while I’m here!” Bertie turned to the aisle with all the scattered books, and looked around, his pale face slowly becoming pink again. “There’s only one door! I’m going to find you!” There was a small space between the wall and the end of the shelves, and the young man headed to it to investigate. Just past Merantha’s line of sight around the shelves, Devirah watched a small fly shift into a large dog. The dog took a lunge at the back of Bertie’s knees, and then instantly shifted back into a fly with a puff of silver just as Bertie fell backward.

  He let out a cry of shock, and lay stunned on his back for a moment. Merantha shouted after him, “What happened? What happened?!”

  He turned around, and Devirah was pleased to see the shock on his face. But it contorted with anger, and he snarled, “Nothing. I tripped.”

  “You see what tripped you?” she called, her tremulous voice barely at a speaking level.

  “Nothing tripped me!” He stumbled as he got back up, rubbing his backside. He looked around, his nose scrunching even more. His pink face just grew darker.

  “Please.” Merantha’s voice broke as she stepped into the center of the aisle, her whole body shaking, looking up at the ceiling, the shelves, but slowly backing up toward the door. “Please, we meant no harm. We don’t mean to disturb your peace.”

  “Just get back to work!” Bertie demanded, snatching up books.

  Seeing that he was distracted, Devirah floated up above the shelf and closed her eyes. When she opened her eyes, she was looking at the back of Merantha’s head. “Will you let us finish? In peace?” the servant cried. In response, she stretched out into the form of a bat, and slipped past the woman’s hair, making sure to catch it just a bit. The moment her wing caught, she immediately turned into a fly—knowing it was painfully necessary—and Merantha whirled around, her eyes wide and her mouth open. Devirah flew behind her, turned back into the bat, and blew past her again, turning once more into a fly as soon as the woman whirled around again. A high whine escaped the servant woman’s throat. In the distance, Bertie threw down the books angrily, making the woman jump, and he looked around the shelves to glare at her.

  And then, from the top of the second story, Azaryah’s voice slowly filled the room. He was using his magic to increase its depth and volume, and in a long, low, drawn-out note, his voice imitated the wind. “Nnnnnooooooooooo.”

  Merantha gasped, her head jerking back and forth upward as she searched for the source of the voice. Bertie stomped out from behind the shelves. “It’s nothing but the wind!” he shouted, his eyes wider and bulging out more than ever as he approached her again. “Calm down!”

  Again, Azaryah’s voice filled the air. “Nnnnoooooooo! Give…back…the…book!”

  Bertie whirled around, searching the library now too, his pink face draining of its color. Don’t be a fool, Bertie, Devirah thought, glaring at his nearly translucent skin. Drop it and run.

  “I have no book!” Merantha wailed. “No book!”

  “Give…back…the…book!”

  Merantha and Bertie looked around, searching. Then Merantha’s eyes turned toward her coworker, glanced at his chest, and shrieked. “You thief!”

  “No!” Bertie’s eyes were wide. And yet, despite the fear and confusion there, Devirah watched him grit his teeth, and shout at the rafters, “No, I didn’t take anything!”

  “I seen it in your robes! Put it back!”

  Beside them, Devirah used a little of her own magic. From her tiny form, a soft wind began to flow, growing stronger. With a cry, Merantha turned to run, but Bertie grabbed her arm and whirled her around. “Stop your crying!” he snarled, despite her dry eyes. “Someone is pulling a terrible prank on us. And I’m not going to be one of those servants known for being too scared of ghosts for working! Now pull yourself together and help me find them!”

  “No—none of it’s
natural! I’m leaving!”

  “I’ll report you if you do!”

  “Go ahead!” she shrieked, ripping her arm out of his grip.

  Again, Azaryah’s low moan filled the air, the wind growing strong enough to whip their hair around their faces. “Give…back…the…book!” he demanded, his voice a little clearer.

  Bertie turned with an open mouth, and Merantha turned and fled to the door, trying to open it, but having difficulty shoving the cart out of the way. To encourage her, Devirah sent wind to the cart and pushed it out of the way. Merantha lunged for the door, but Bertie had grabbed onto her wrists, yanking her around to look at him and snarl in her face that she wasn’t going anywhere. She cried out, her face contorting with malice. She drew her fist back and used it like a hammer down on the bridge of his nose. He cried out. Then she dove toward his chest, tearing at his clothes to grab at the book. He grabbed her wrist and wrenched them away from his chest, his face contorted with fury. She cried out in pain.

  That was it. The last thread of self-control Devirah had fought hard to hold onto was lost. And she shouted at the top of her lungs, “Stop it!”

  The servants turned to her and screamed, and both stumbled back from her. The wind blew so hard that it gave their stumbling momentum, causing their bodies to slam against the doors. Merantha’s hair plastered itself all over the door like a stain. They immediately began clawing at the door handles, and first Bertie’s door, then Merantha’s burst back, throwing them into the hall. Still screaming, they were blown across the wooden floors almost to the opposite wall, and their doors crashed backward into the walls.

  It took Devirah a moment to realize what she’d done. She could not have shouted like that as a fly. She glanced down, and saw hands. She saw robes billowing wildly around her legs and arms. In an instant, her anger turned to panic as she looked back into the wide, terrified eyes of the servants, who were still screaming from the other side of the hall. She threw her hands up, sending another explosion of wind and shoving the servants against the wall now, but then closed her fists and pulled them toward her chest. The wooden doors slammed shut with an echoing crash!