Tales of Fire and Ruin - Chapter 23: Chapter 23

The woman at the front desk of the library raised her hand, ordering us to stop without looking up from her leather-bound book. "Names and purpose in the library?" she drawled.
Nele cleared her throat and stepped sideways so the librarian saw me.
The elderly woman raised her eyes with a deep sigh, then dropped her quill in the ink when her gaze landed on my chest. "Storm-touched," she breathed, leaning over the wooden desk. She dipped her head in submission, her grey hair dangling dangerously close to the candle. "My apologies, I—I didn't notice. Please, head right on in, sir. Your servants as well. We're honoured to have you at our library."
"Uh, thank you," I replied with an awkward smile, not quite used to the special treatment yet. I probably wouldn't be able to get used to it even if I spent many years in Wildewall.
While I stepped past the front desk with hesitance, Nele seemed to know her way around and strode across the entrance hall. She gestured for us to follow her. Long corridors lit by candlelight stretched out in front of us. The ceiling was high, arching to what I estimated had to be at least twenty feet above us.
Nele led us to a set of wooden doors, which had stone statues in the shape of a robed man and a woman standing on each side like guardians. Endris stepped forward and opened one door for me, Oleander and Nele, and then we found ourselves in the middle of a gigantic open room.
Light poured in from windows overhead. Tall shelves filled with books were lined up as far as my eyes could see, and many scholars shuffled through the aisles. In the corners I spotted small reading desks with chairs, but on the first-floor balcony, there were more spaces which appeared to be private studying rooms. I hoped to retreat in one of those later.
"So, you people in Wildewall are just incapable of creating small, humble buildings, then?" I joked in Nele's direction.
She grinned at me. "Do it grand, or don't do it at all, lord Montbow. And if it's knowledge of the elves you seek, I would only bring you to the place with the most knowledgeable historians."
"Yes, and Ezra Dagon is most certainly the best of them all," Endris agreed, his gaze deliberately trained on me. "He knows everything there is to know of the elven war, their history... and their mannerisms."
Even after he finished speaking, Endris kept staring at me intently. He'd been making similar remarks during the ride to the library, but now that he emphasised mannerisms it suddenly hit me. What Endris had been trying to tell me all along.
Nele was bringing us straight to a historian who was the foremost authority on elves in this city. The historian would likely recognise elven characteristics in Oleander when faced with him. Shit.
The thought stopped my heart dead in my chest. I'd nearly been too late. We were already in the library. A shiver of panic and dread raced down my spine as I realised I had to come up with a reason to either dismiss Oleander without raising Nele's suspicion or to blatantly refuse seeing Ezra Dagon within the next few moments.
I chose the latter.
"I appreciate your offer, Nele," I said. "But I won't see the historian today. I want to practice for my hearing tomorrow. And Endris and Oleander will stay with me as well."
Nele's jaw went slack in surprise. Then she regained her composure and bowed curtly. "Of course, lord Montbow. I wouldn't want to impose."
I acted like the arrogant storm-touched they seemed to want me to be here and didn't react to Nele's apology. I turned away from her and looked up at the balcony. "Is there a place where I can study on my own in here, Nele?"
"Yes, naturally," Nele said. "It's on the first floor, as you had already guessed. Please, follow me."
I nearly breathed a sigh of relief, thinking I'd avoided catastrophe. Endris' face relaxed visibly as well.
And then Oleander opened his mouth.
"Excuse me, lord Montbow. I would like to spend some time reading books," he spoke up softly. "May I join you in your study room later?"
"Absolutely not," blurted out of my mouth much harsher than I'd meant it in a flash of panic.
Oleander's eyes widened, and I almost apologised to him. I wanted to explain this library was so large that losing someone in the rows of books was easy, and I couldn't risk him running into someone with evil intentions while alone. But I had to bite my tongue in front of Nele.
"I need you to stay in my sight," I continued in a calmer tone. "We can return here another time."
While I had received Endris' subtle message loud and clear, it appeared Oleander hadn't. He looked crestfallen at my sudden rejection and nodded meekly.
"If you want, I can help you find some books on elven history later, Oleander," Nele offered, seemingly feeling sorry for him.
"Find books on elven history? In here? Hah!" Behind us, a male voice chortled. I turned and saw nobody until I turned my gaze down. A very short, ancient-looking man looked back up at me with beady, sparkling eyes that reminded me of magpies. A mane of wild grey hair circled his crown with a bald hole in the middle.
"Master Dagon," Nele greeted him.
"Nele and Endris," he replied with a kind smile that nearly made his eyes disappear behind folds of skin.
"This is Ezra Dagon, the historian I told you about, lord Montbow," Nele said excitedly, right before her face fell as she remembered I didn't want to see him today.
I didn't want to see him for a damn good reason. I felt the colour drain from my face as Ezra glanced at Oleander and I subtly moved myself in front of him, blocking Ezra's vision. Endris did the same and helped me hide the elf in the library filled with people who hated elves. By the thunder god's wrath, what had we gotten ourselves into?
Ezra raised a curious brow, but he didn't comment on our strange behaviour. He wasn't tall nor broad enough to easily look past me and Endris without leaning to the side.
"Lord Montbow, young storm-touched, proud Southerner, I would certainly not waste my time on the trite elven propaganda you will find in here." Ezra spread his hands, gesturing at the books surrounding us. "You must know these works, if we can call them that, are full of lies."
"Are they, well—" I tried to interrupt Ezra, wanting to send Oleander and Endris away from us quickly. But the old historian didn't acknowledge my attempt at speaking.
"You must know that the elves were not hideous, like many history books like to claim," Ezra continued. "They were actually quite beautiful. Appealing to humans with large eyes, long lashes, and graceful movements. And while us people like to think they were forest-dwelling savages, most were well-groomed like nobles."
"No kidding," I muttered, sending Endris a wry glance over my shoulder. "Ezra, why don't we—"
"In fact, being so beautiful and aesthetically appealing to us humans made the elves a lot more dangerous," Ezra went on, lost in his own story. "They used the fact that we easily put our trust in beautiful people against us to make children especially walk with them into the dark Starcross woods, never to be seen again." Ezra frowned. "As a result of that strong attractiveness, there are a lot of half-elves or part-elves, too. There are no consequences from doing so. Their children could breed, too."
"Fascinating," I said, but definitely remembering to stay on my guard. Judging by what Endris said, admitting you even had a drop of elven blood in Wildewall was dangerous business. Something Ezra affirmed a moment later as well.
"If someone has elven blood, however, they best not reveal it. It won't end well for them," the old historian said with a chuckle and an amused shake of his head.
I wisely kept my mouth shut and only nodded with a tight-lipped smile. The next step would be to end the conversation and leave, shuffling forward to ensure Ezra didn't accidentally catch a good look at Oleander.
Twice now, however, Oleander didn't seem to understand he had to keep quiet.
"What happens to people who reveal it?" Oleander's voice rang out. He brushed past Endris and stood beside me, a defiant look I knew all too well on his delicate features. The last time I'd seen Oleander look like this, he had poisoned himself with a Bleeding Ivy leaf just to prove a point.
"Oleander," I warned him with my heart drumming wildly in my chest. Ezra could see his face now. "Don't talk to master Dagon. Why don't you go looking for books? You wanted to, right?"
"That's quite alright, young storm-touched," Ezra soothed me before turning to Oleander. "Oleander, was it? An interesting name choice."
I held my breath as Ezra's beady eyes narrowed for a moment. But then he smiled pleasantly. "Anyway, Oleander, if you reveal elven blood in a human town, you have a death wish. It's not against the law on paper, but people like that tend to disappear. Like them whither-touched. The elven gift that killed our children. There are many families here who have a story of the war. A grandmother or a grandfather taken by elves of perishing. It's sensitive here in the North."
I saw Oleander's nostrils flare as he breathed in and out deeply. His jaw set. "How sensitive?" he asked tersely.
With a sound somewhere between a giggle and a snort, Ezra raised his finger to the ceiling. We all looked up, but saw nothing but a roof. Then, a few moments later, temple bell chimes coming from outside entered the library through the windows.
It seemed to be the sign Ezra had been waiting for. He snapped his fingers and lowered his arm. "That is an excellent question, Oleander. And you arrived on the right day to ask it. Come." Ezra fervently gestured for us to come with him, his puff of hair bouncing on his head.
"What do the bells mean, Ezra?" I asked.
"You'll see."
Ezra started walking.
"Don't go with him, Oleander," Endris said. "You will find nothing you want to see out there. It's a trial."
Oleander glanced at Endris, but didn't hesitate a moment and promptly followed Ezra. Endris cursed under his breath and glared at me like this was all my fault. We both understood Oleander would not be stopped, however, and we rushed after him. Nele, in turn, rushed after me.
As we exited the library, the sun stung in my eyes after getting used to the warm candlelight. The chimes grew louder and faster.
"Hurry now, we're going to miss it!" Ezra called out over his shoulder. The ancient man was deceptively fast on his tiny feet and kept ahead of me despite me almost jogging. I almost lost Ezra in the commotion, because there were many people attracted by the chiming coming from the temple. These people seemed to pay my mark less mind, distracted by something up ahead.
A large crowd gathered in the square in front of one of the tall, spiralling temples. I caught sight of two men standing on a platform in front of the temple. One of them carried a sword, and one of them was masked and bound. A dozen more men in heavy armour guarded the staircase that led up to the platform.
My blood ran cold as I realised what Oleander was about to witness. This wasn't just a trial, it was also the execution of the punishment. I grabbed his arm. "We need to leave," I told him. I tugged on his arm, but Oleander yanked himself free.
"No," he said firmly.
While Ezra seemed content to wait a distance away from the platform, even if I couldn't imagine the small man being able to see anything going on from here, Oleander kept pushing forward.
"Damn it," Endris said as he started elbowing his way after Oleander. "Oleander, stop!"
Up ahead, the bells stopped chiming. The man carrying the sword ripped the mask off of his prisoner's face.
"Help, no!" the prisoner wailed, utterly terrified. "I don't have elven blood, I swear! Why won't anyone believe me?"
"Silence!" the man with the sword boomed. "We will not listen to your forked-tongued lies!"
The grim reality dawned on me fast. This was one of the 'unfair trials.' They were about to kill this man, elven-blooded or not, right in front of Oleander.
I couldn't let that happen.
While I had been uncomfortable with the attention the townsfolk gave me for my mark, now I was ready to wield the full power of it. Lifting one hand, I made thunder crackle inside my palm. Left and right, people gasped and leapt out of the way, similar to the merchants in the market district.
My path freed up as people crashed into each other to get out of my way. I rushed forward and reached the stairs before Oleander did.
"Wait!" I called out to the men on the platform.
The armoured guards in front of me seemed confused about what to do. They likely had orders to let none pass, but they weren't faced with an unfamiliar storm-touched in the crowd often. Even the armed man on the platform, who I assumed was the leader of this execution, momentarily hesitated. Then his gaze hardened. "Please, do not interfere with city justice, blessed storm-touched."
"Then tell me what this man did!" I demanded. "You talk of justice, but where's your proof that he did something wrong?"
Oleander reached my side and grabbed my arm. His fingernails dug into my skin. "Please, Laurence, help him," he pleaded quietly.
The captain narrowed his eyes and nodded at two of the guards on the staircase. They marched forward with a clear intent to intimidate me.
I straightened my back. "I asked a simple question that deserves an answer," I said through gritted teeth.
Behind me, people started booing as the crowd grew restless at the delay.
"Kill him!" a shrill woman's voice demanded. "Kill the filthy half-elf!"
A hand landed heavily on my shoulder. "It's too late," Endris hissed in my ear. "We can't help him, and you can't risk spoiling all your goodwill in this city, nor can we let Oleander stay in this crowd. Think this through!"
I turned to Endris. His dark eyes were haunted and it was clear as day he wanted to help the prisoner, whether he was actually elven or not, just as much as we did. He had the wisdom Oleander and I lacked, however; to choose our battles and to choose them wisely.
I glanced at Oleander's wide, pleading eyes, and then at Endris. I knew what the wise decision was, but I also knew I wouldn't be a blessing to live with myself it I stepped back. Instead of backing down, I stepped onto the staircase. It seemed the guards had anticipated this move, however. I groaned as a strong pain in the back of my legs made me fall down on the sharp edges of the steps. My arms were twisted on my back by a guard, and the man on the platform looked vaguely disappointed at my decision. Then he stomped the back of his prisoner's legs, so the poor man dropped to his knees with a pained whimper.
Steel flashed in the sunlight, and it was over. The half-elf prisoner hit the ground. He gurgled as the sword left his body and Oleander cried out. Endris held a tight grip on his arm and started dragging him away under only feeble protest. The guard who sat on top of me to keep me down loosened his grip and I stood with a huff, glaring at him. There was nothing I could do anymore, however. The half-elf was already dead. Then I mouthed a sorry to him, a stone sinking in my stomach as I turned away.
While the crowd cheered and celebrated, Endris led us to a back alley away from the noise. It seemed we had lost Nele for the time being.
A pregnant silence filled the air between us until Endris finally sighed. "Do you get it now?" he snapped. "This is why I don't want you in the capital, Oleander. This is what happens to people who get caught in here! Why don't you ever listen?"
Oleander looked down at the ground. He didn't respond to Endris' scolding.
Endris looked at me. "And you. You really don't know anything outside of a simple life at the Thundercoast, do you? You cannot yell at a paladin and demand for him to explain himself or bullrush him! The only reason you're not dead right now is because of that mark on your chest."
Like Oleander, I didn't respond. Endris' words stung, but not as much as seeing Oleander hurt.
Pressing a hand to his forehead, Endris paced through the alley. "I can't help you survive this city if you run amok and do whatever the hell you want. If you draw the attention of historians and expose us to—" Endris stopped abruptly in the middle of his sentence and stiffened.
"Expose us to what?" I asked.
"He means us, Laurence. As in me and Endris," Oleander said softly.
"You..." I gaped at Endris.
Endris  crossed his arms. He looked behind him and above him to check nobody was there. "I am related to Sage Farun," then he curtly stated. "In a distant past, one of his sisters mingled with my grandfather."
I opened and closed my mouth, struggling to come up with what I was supposed to say to that. Endris didn't give me a chance to recover, however. He turned his back on me. "We are going back to the inn," he announced, marching off without awaiting a response.