Chapter 4: Last Glory
2nd of Benathus, 414 EC of the Fourth Rekindling
07:35
Wyatt stood and stared at the dome roof of the library, watching the clear sky dotted with stars and snow. Luna was still nowhere to be seen, and for once he missed her dim but divine glow. He had never seen Sol, only heard the stories from the bards of his village. For his generation, perhaps Luna was his Sol, the light of the world, and its disappearance made the situation so surreal now.
…Or maybe what was ticking him off was Willem’s insistence on “negotiating”.
The taller man stood in front of the bird like machine, free of his gloves, mask and goggles, basking in the warmth of the construct, moving his fingers and hands as if to animate the words out of his mouth. The machine stood and watched him with paid interest, although unmoving and stiff.
“I… Willem!” He pointed to himself and patted his chest. “Understand?”
“Willem… This… Understand…” The machine rumbled softly, stirred, then let out a sound not from its beak, but what appeared to be its core. It spoke in a grunt, like every syllable was a challenge.
“That…” Willem pointed to his friend, still staring at the domed roof. “Is… Uh, Wyatt?”
“That… Wyatt… Is…”
The machine grumbles again, exerting much effort in its speech. In the meantime, Willem returned to his companion, giving him a shake.
“You okay?”
Wyatt did not respond immediately.
“Wyattttt?” Willem shook him harder.
“Can you stop that?” Wyatt snapped, pushing his friend away. “Are you trying to give me a headache!?”
“You’ve been quiet for so long now, that’s all! It’s warm in here, relax a bit.”
“I’m… Just not sure what’s happening outside… And aren’t you too casual about this? That thing, it’s…”
They looked back to the bird-like machine, as it stood still and made slight whirring sounds. Indeed, even despite conflicted opinions, both men knew anyone sane would be terrified of its appearance. Its scale, movements… all are so unnatural.
“…I mean…” Willem whispered, “What choice do we even have?”
“Escaping, or at least trying to? Not talking to that… Whatever that is?” Wyatt whispered. “We’re still in danger here. Nowhere in this place screams of “safe”.”
The duo looked up at the ceiling, seeing the great spider-like machine prowling every scalable surface of the structure. Each step made an echo, but no impact mark; the machine was impossibly graceful for its size. Beyond that, the books continued to fly between the shelves, leaving only the thick marble door to the outside world untouched. Their situation was dire, suspended hundreds of paces off the ground, and even if they escaped the Luna-less sky still loomed over them. Neither of them knew what to do, but their bickering continued.
“…I’m telling you. You’re getting too comfortable, Willem! We’re not some explorers or adventurers; we’re just two idiots who managed to get themselves stuck in this… place. We don’t know if this isn’t a death trap or if that thing doesn’t want us dead.”
At the mention of that, Willem looked back at the suspended bird-like machine. It was still stiff, with no changes in its lethargic behavior. He still knew nothing of it despite his prodding, and presumed it knew nothing of him. He sighed.
“I’m just… I’m trying to find a solution. What else are we supposed to do? It can’t understand us – It seems to be trying to. I mean, if we can understand each other, maybe then we can negotiate?”
“Or it’s just trying to get a grasp of our language for some inexplicable reason. Either way, I don’t…” Wyatt paused, leering at the machine. “I don’t trust it.”
“Trust me, then? On this?”
The two men stared at each other in complete silence, a moment of introspection hanging on as the seconds ticked by. They had just stepped into a world neither could have fathomed a day ago, their lives plagued by repetitiveness and tediousness of the mundane, now replaced with miracles and curses of the wider world. Their stomachs churned, as their changing worldviews began to kick in.
Something will change today, they imagined. Something will never be the same again. Neither wanted to stray down that path without a light, which they decided would be one another, as the only thing they could trust anymore.
Wyatt sighed. “…Don’t mess up.”
“Don’t depend on me, I have no idea what I’m doing!”
“…Then why did you make me trust you in the first place–”
A creak snapped them off their conversation. Behind them, the slumbering avian machine began to move its strung limbs, floating towards them like a real bird would. It was stiff, but not static, like it had a purpose yet no energy to spare. The men stood in place, staring without fear but much trepidation. About six paces from them, the machine became animated, limbs flailing like a spectacle. It brandished its “wings”, mere pipes with joints stitched together by threads, and lowered it to around its “knees”. After some whirring, its voice boomed once more, crisper and more confident like it had a chance to rehearse.
“Greetings.”
The first word came out, accent and punctuation a bit off, but undeniably their language.
“This one is caretaker of library.”
The boys stood for a moment, stunned, with Willem breaking free first.
“Like a librarian?”
The machine stopped, ruminating what he just said, then followed up
“A… Libarian. If that is name for a library’s caretaker, yes. This one is librarian. Am the librarian of this library.” It repeated the word, testing the way it sounded. “Librarien, librarian…”
“Wait…” Wyatt interjected, narrowing his eyes. “How are you speaking so clearly? That couldn’t– You couldn’t have possibly learnt that from Willem’s half-baked lessons!”
“Hey!” Willem snapped, only to shut himself up at the realization of the gravity of their situation, and the half-baked nature of his lesson.
“Your… Speak… No, ‘tongue’ is more correct,” the figure squawked, rubbing its chin with one “wing”. “This one did not recognize at first, and it be alien, but close to many languages recorded. Most similarly, modern Kosichvian, Agrosian, Matanise–”
“In… Words we can understand?” Wyatt complained, already looking tired.
“…This language is familiar in make and structure. Interpretation and prediction can be conjectured… Minimal difficulties. At least commutable.”
“You could work on sounding more comprehensible…” Willem pouted. “Try starting your sentence with… “I” for example. “I” means yourself, but you are referring to yourself, so “me” is me when I’m talking to you, but “I” means me in another context?”
“…This one does not comprehend-“
“Replace “this one” with I and change up the tenses.” Wyatt interjected.
“…I… Is these corrected?”
“No, try like… What I’m doing. Hey, I’m me, I’m here.” Continued Wyatt.
“I… Am I… Correct?”
“Yes.” Wyatt shrugged.
For a moment, Willem blinked blankly at Wyatt’s teaching, causing the other man to groan.
“What?”
“You’re surprisingly adept at this teaching thing.”
“I’m average at best, you’re just horrible at it.” Wyatt clutched the side of his head and groaned, “Ugh, what am I even doing… Can we move onto something else?”
“Oh yes, right!”
Willem approached the machine.
“We want to go home, please!”
“Home.” It responded, its eyes with the hole in the middle blinking with metal shutters. “Much as I will want to, I understand not where your home is. There is no sight outside. Only dark.”
“O– Oh.” Willem sighed, reminded of their situation. “I mean, it’s close, but if you can’t see it–”
“Yes, I cannot go toward it.”
There was a brief pause, a silent admission of defeat against the elements. Willem was obviously disappointed, frowning along with Wyatt but more pronounced. Even the machine lurched forward, as if acknowledging its inabilities.
It took a while, but Willem spoke again, trying his best to change the subject.
“…How do… How do you move?” His voice shivered slightly, “I mean, it must be… Some sort of magic, right? Do you have invisible legs?”
The machine paused, before answering with a lecturing tone.
“You were wrong in referring to the movements in this library as ‘magic’. Great machines and technology played a part in making it move. No visible legs, just force propelled from machines in the foundation. Details are not to be revealed, per instructions of previous owners. Further information is available in the books of isle 192, 3rd section.”
“Right…”
Willem paused for a moment, his face suddenly brightened up.
“Can we read things here? Is that allowed?”
“As it is a library, yes, however…” The avian machine raised its wing, summoning a giant book towards it. The scripture was 9 paces wide and 12 paces long, yet it floated just as others did. “I… Am required to translate them to your language, which would take months or possibly years. I am able to translate on command, but even that require hours, and mistakes would be unavoidable with my limited knowledge.”
“Well, we can wait, right?”
Willem asked expectantly, but Wyatt just sighed. He was far less concerned about the contents of this place and more about how to get out safely, which he spoke to the machine.
“Is there really no way you can see our home? It is right around here. Maybe there’s a sign of houses or lights nearby you can use.”
“There is a possibility. Risk is involved. Signatures are faint and unreliable. This construct was not designed with such sophistication.”
Wyatt bit his lips
“…Can you detect magic?”
“It would be simpler than detecting physical signatures. Yes. Possibly.”
Wyatt was relieved. Some people in his village must own magical trinkets, like Chief’s backyard Golden Age hothouse. If that was not enough, surely the fully magical Hubbs should be easily detected. Or so he thought. He certainly has no idea how magic worked, or if tracking it worked in the same way as tracking footsteps in the snow. He just knew it was doable, but with the weight of all these unknown knowledge upon him, Wyatt just sighed.
“Can you get started now?”
“I am unfamiliar with these times and places. I would require a sample to understand what I am looking for. Concerns about the mechanisms compatibility to the current environment must also be raised-“
“Simple words, please.” Wyatt frowned.
“…I need an example.”
Wyatt rubbed his head. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but an “example”? Neither of them could cast magic or understand the principles behind it, and they couldn’t describe what magic was. What could they give this machine as an example, probably something arcane in nature…
Wyatt snapped out of his thought when he heard a clink, and saw Willem pulling out their thurible. The strange tool that melted snow, acquired from a kooky mage for a fair(ish) price… And an object of arcane nature! Willem presented the thurible to the machine, asking.
“Will this do?”
The machine received it with thin, metallic hooked claws, bringing it up next to its eyes. It inspected the artifact for a moment, dangling it on the bronze chains, before retracting its claws and the thurible along with them.
“It is adequate.”
The machine floated up, its strings channeled incredible might. The machine raised over the bookshelves, referring to the men below before vanishing.
“I will detect the nearest possible signature, and land near it when the conditions are settled.”
Wyatt gave his friend an elbow.
“Good idea.”
“My good idea’s reward is getting hit?”
“I was the one keeping the conversation going–” Wyatt sat down, hands on the floor as he laid, “–and got us to where we are now.”
“Wyatt, we’re not competing for credits.”
“Because I’ll win.”
“…You’re so immature.”
Just as they sat down, the hatch above the glass dome closed up, its rock like doors groaned and blocked the men’s sky view. Once closed, the giant machine started whirring and moving again, rocking its passengers around slightly. The men were able to adjust fairly quickly, too exhausted to ponder unanswered questions and grateful for a moment of respite.
“,..I’m going to take a nap.” Willem sighed, plopping onto the ground.
“Wait- Right here?” Wyatt was shocked, staring back incredulously. “What did I tell you about trusting this place!?”
“I don’t think we can do a lot right now… Besides, it’s been a long day.” Willem rubbed his coat over his eyes. “I’m just gonna rest.”
Wyatt pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly uncomfortable. “…Ignoring that you’re desperate enough to sleep on the hard ground, are you seriously content enough to do this?”
“Wyatt…”
“Not to mention this thing started making sounds for no reason, and something’s pushing us back and–”
“Wyatt.” Finally, Willem had enough, smacking his friend over the head. “Take a break.”
Wyatt paused and stared, though before long he sighed and decided to lay down some distance away. Despite doing that, and closing his eyes, Wyatt kept up his complaints.
“…This is so stupid…”
“If it’s comfortable, it’s not stupid.”
“That is not how the saying goes.”
They snorted at that together, before stopping entirely. Their eyelids closed, and they began to drift off to rest.
