He sat down where she had knelt, facing a row of large books. Killian checked the first book. Strange creatures leapt from its pages, vivid drawings of monsters the like of which he’d never seen. He put it back and withdrew the second book. It was some kind of text, a story, illustrated and captioned: the travels of an Alturan from long ago. Killian returned it to the shelf. The next book was full of numbers, column upon column of numbers. Some kind of reference? Replacing it, Killian turned to the next book.
It was of a different kind than the other books. This book’s pages were made of a silver, almost metallic fabric, the sheets so thin that the book had a great many more pages than it first seemed. It was surprisingly light, untouched by age, and felt foreign, almost alien. It didn’t feel like the creation of man.
The cover of the book was green, and on the cover of the book was a rune: the number one. Killian opened the book as curiosity overwhelmed him. Runes stared back at him, undeniably perfect. It was the work of the Evermen; a relic of unimaginable power.
A voice broke the spell — a woman’s voice screaming, crying with all of its power. "Guards!"
Killian tucked the book under his arm, trying to obscure it as much as possible with his body. A body that was weak, naked, and starting to betray him.
He ran.
~
THE Crystal Palace reverberated with a commotion: the sound of soldiers’ boots, calls and shouts. It was perhaps three hours before dawn, the time when spirits were at their lowest and men fought to blink away sleep.
A passer-by looking directly at the Crystal Palace would have blinked and rubbed at their eyes as an ethereal shape stole out, hiding behind a column, before soundlessly creeping down the marble steps, slipping from shadow to shadow.
Killian’s heart pounded and he fought to keep his breath silent. There were two guards at the bottom of the steps, made alert by the commotion. Killian stilled his breath further, attempting to slow his heaving chest. He would have to walk directly between the guards, a space barely wide enough for his body to fit through.
"Have you seen anything?" a voice called from behind him.
"No, nothing," one of the guards responded.
"He must come this way. He must," the voice said. "I think I’ll wait with you."
"Of course, bladesinger," the guard replied.
Killian felt like he had been punched in the chest — a bladesinger, directly behind him! He prayed for the light to stay dim; he prayed to the Sunlord that the bladesinger wouldn’t see him.
Killian moved to the shadow of another column, creeping towards the guards. The gap was ahead of him; he just needed to slip through.
He heard it then, just at the edge of his hearing; he never would have heard it if he hadn’t been so close.
"Tun-ahreen-lahsa," the bladesinger whispered.
Killian ducked, and in the same instant, so fast it was blinding, a piece of light thrust where Killian’s head had been less than a heartbeat before. The bladesinger moved like a coiled spring. If it hadn’t been for the two guards in the way, Killian knew he would have been sliced in two.
He was now behind the column closest to freedom, and tucked under his arm, the book felt like it was writhing, trying to save itself from this trespasser. This thief.
Killian saw the runes dim on his chest. He could see his fingers now, make out their definition. It was now or never.
Killian ducked and threw himself between the two guards.
"Get out of the way!" the bladesinger snarled.
Completely lost in this strange battle of whirling forces, the two guards tried to back up the steps. The bladesinger moved like wildfire, his song rising from his lips. He jumped over their heads, his sword held before him in a striking position, before he landed softly on two feet, scanning from side to side. Making a swift judgement, the bladesinger cut across the air in front of him viciously: once, twice, the vibrant zenblade making a sizzling sound like meat on a fire.
Killian only knew he had to get away. As he rolled to a standing position at the bottom of the stairs he felt something slice across his back, the lightest touch, but followed by a searing pain like nothing he’d ever felt. Gritting his teeth, he lurched to a standing position and began to run.
Blood ran down his back; he could feel it dripping to the ground.
"Now I have you," he heard the voice behind him.
Killian knew it was over. Wounded, with an angry bladesinger, he didn’t stand a chance.
In one hand was the book, clutched under his arm as he ran. What was in the other? His pendant and… something else.
Killian stopped and turned, facing the bladesinger. Surprised, the glowing warrior slowed.
Killian stood painfully, completely naked with the Alturan Lexicon clutched under his arm. Blood dripped down his back and onto the ground. Soldiers called in the distance.
“Back away,” Killian said.
"You won’t be seeing the dawn, thief," the bladesinger said with venom.
Killian dropped the Lexicon to the ground.
"Good," said the bladesinger.
Killian removed the stopper from the vial of essence, and as fast as he could, he flung his arm out, spraying the black liquid in all directions, careless of whether he hit himself.
The bladesinger moved to attack, too quickly for Killian to see if he’d hit him with the essence. Then, the warrior slowed, and Killian saw the bladesinger on his knees, an expression of horror on his face.