Page 62 of A City of Emeralds and Envy
As the creature screeches, opening its mouth wider, I feed my magic into the motion, continuing that stretch past the point of comfort, until the beast’s skin and flesh rip and it really does turn itself inside out. With a choking rasp, it goes limp in a puddle of its own blood.
More creatures hail down around me, and I lash out with magic. I boost their momentum, speeding up their descent so they smash against the bridge with asplatinstead of landing as they intended. When they perform their leggy cartwheels, I feed that momentum and roll them into the slick black water of the stagnant moat.
But there are too many of them. I can’t hold them off forever.
Once I’ve created a clear path, I run for the castle gates, which are stuck partway open. I slip through, pelting across the rubble-filled courtyard to the inner keep. That door is also half open—but when I start to dive through, I skid to a halt, my heart lodged in my throat.
Long limbs, like tails or tentacles, are sliding out of the crack between the doorpost and the great wooden door of the keep. Each limb is as thick as my waist and bristles with coarse, blue-gray fur. The door creaks wider, and a slab-like body squeezes through, bearing a far, far bigger version of the flat, dead-eyed, catfish faces the smaller creatures wore. Once through the doorway, the monster swells, inflating to terrifying proportions.
My scream dies in my throat. I’m mute with terror, backing away from the monster—but peril lies behind me, too.
There’s only one person who might be watching this. One person with the power to save me.
“West,” I croak through my dry lips. “West…remember what you said… that you want to kill me yourself…”
With a crack and a puff of green smoke, he appears right on top of the beast’s body, just above its eyes. It chitters and moves as if to roll and throw him off. But he’s holding his staff this time—the one he had when I first met him—and he rams it down, almost carelessly, punching through the furred flesh of the monster into what must be its brain.
He looks rather glorious perched there, wearing a huge flowing coat of dark leather, its shoulders decorated abundantly with raven feathers.
“Hello, Kin-Slayer.” He smiles, riding the beast down as it collapses, then hopping lightly off its slumped corpse. “Miss me?”
“No,” I gasp.
“Pity.” He steps past me, extending his staff. Forks of green lightning shoot from its tip, turning several of the smaller beasts into balls of green flame. The others skitter off the drawbridge and back into the darkness of the ruins.
A crack of thunder explodes from the menacing clouds overhead, and torrents of rain crash down, pummeling the cobblestones, soaking me to the skin in an instant. I clap my hand over the Tama Olc in my back pocket, trying to shield it as I run past the great dead beast into the keep.
West follows me, producing a few small orbs for light, then pausing in the crack of the door to look out at the rain. I pull the spellbook out of my pocket and inspect it anxiously—but it’s perfectly dry. Not a spot of moisture anywhere on it, not even from my wet fingers.
“That’s a tempting little volume.” West peers over my shoulder, rain dripping from his black hair onto the book. Each drop disappears the instant it contacts the page.
“It’s mine,” I retort.
“Of course it is. And this castle, ruin though it may be, is mine. So I must ask, Kin-Slayer—what are you planning to steal from me?”
His scent, brisk as the icy rain, fresh as clipped grass, suffuses each breath I inhale, thrilling in my lungs, bringing every nerve in my body to life.
I step away from him. “I plan to take nothing but knowledge.”
“Ah, but knowledge is the most precious treasure in this place! The only treasure remaining, I do believe. The castle has been thoroughly stripped of anything else which might have the slightest value.”
“If you’ll tell me where the library is, I’ll find the information I need and leave this place,” I tell him haughtily, as another roar of thunder shakes the stone walls.
The Witch laughs, dark eyes glittering. In the yellow light of the orbs he conjured, his green skin looks almost golden—a strange effect. “You’ll just find the information and leave? You make it sound so easy. Very well, Kin-Slayer, come along.”
We traverse echoing, cavernous halls, long corridors, and broad staircases, until he flings open a pair of dusty doors and motions for the lighted orbs to sail through ahead of us. They float upward and multiply, spreading out to reveal a room as big as a dragon’s den, inhabited by rows upon rows of bookshelves, scores of them—no, hundreds of them.
“In the Golden Age of this Isle, my ancestors were fascinated with collecting and inscribing knowledge,” says the Witch. “They encouraged the composition of many volumes of science, history, and philosophy. And they celebrated storytelling as well… tales of romance and wonder, delight and horror. I grew up reading them all, both true and imagined. I know every book in this vast library, Kin-Slayer.”
He slants a triumphant look my way, as my heart sinks with the understanding of how long it would take me to search through these volumes and locate the information I seek. I spent my youth devouring the contents of a few precious stolen books. Whenever I did dream of libraries, I thought of Lord Drosselmeyer’s mansion. As the wealthiest man in the area, I knew he must have a large room stocked with interesting volumes. But I never dreamed a library like this could exist. It extends so far into the bowels of the castle that I can’t see the far wall—and it’s two stories high, with narrow walkways and railings running around the second tier of bookshelves.
“I assume you’re looking for information about the properties of my dead sister’s shoes.” West’s voice is low, faintly bitter, tinged with challenge. “I could direct you to the right book, for a price.”
My heartbeat kicks into a faster rhythm. “What price?”
“Tell me about your meeting with the Wizard.”
“Shouldn’t you already know about it?” I hedge. “Since you have the scrying stone and all.”
