Chapter 2, Part ii

Hector squinted at the bright sunrise as he grunted and finally managed to sit up. He brushed away the pine needles stuck to his coat and stretched. He had never felt so stiff and sore in his life.

It took him a few seconds, but the events of the night before finally resurfaced and he remembered why he had slept on the forest floor with his bookbag as a pillow. He glanced around, taking in his surroundings. Last night in his escape from Dunberg, he had run blindly into the woods until he couldn't hear his pursuers any more, but he had gotten himself hopelessly lost in the process. Nothing but tall pine trees surrounded him, sticky and pungent with sap.

Hector sat up a little straighter and sighed. “Well,” he said to himself, “I guess I've got to find my Tovish friend.”

He stood up, shouldered his bag and started walking in a direction at random; he reasoned that it didn't matter which direction he went, because all of them were equally confusing. As he walked, he drank in the peace and quiet of the pine forest, the chirping birds, the crisp chill of the morning on his ears and nose and throat. I didn't know that I could feel so alive outside the library, he reflected with a smile.

However, the grumbles of his stomach finally made Hector stop and regret that he hadn't brought any food along. Acknowledging that he had no wilderness survival skills whatsoever, Hector decided to climb up onto the tallest rock he could find to get his bearings. He found one of decent height, then panted and struggled his way up the gritty face of the gray crag.

The view from the top made him forget his hunger for a moment. Green peaks stretched out as far as he could see, with snow-capped mountains rising majestically in the distant north. Or west. Hector had no idea.

Suddenly, he spied a familiar sight in the distance: the white dome of Dunberg City Hall, protruding up from the forest like an egg in a bird's nest. There's Dunberg, he reminisced. There's my library. But I can't go back, not any more... I hope Tom can hold his own until they choose a new librarian. I hope Trisha doesn't get angry when she learns what I've done, or where I've gone... What will my dear parents think?

Hector's thoughts were so despondent and dark that the only solution was to write them down, so he seated himself on the top of the rocky outcropping and pulled out a fresh new journal and a pencil. He turned to the first, blank page and started to write.

He had not written more than a page or two when suddenly somebody asked, very close to his ear, in a loud and scratchy voice:

“What'cha readin'?”

Hector made a terrified squeaky sound and scrambled away from the huge bird, and his journal tumbled from his lap and bounced down the rock face to land on the forest floor. The bird, apparently not about to eat him, hopped clumsily down to the ground and poked at the book with its pointed beak.

“Hmm,” it chortled, “Looks like you was writin' in a diary! I love diaries!” It swung its filthy head up to peer at Hector with its bloodshot eye; Hector noticed that it was at least ten feet tall, including its long neck with the horrible kink in it. “Ya know why I likes diaries?”

“Why do you like diaries?” Hector responded automatically.

“Cuz' they's gots so many good secrets in 'em!” The bird cackled and coughed with glee, and its raspy voice grated against all that was good and arranged in alphabetical order in Hector's soul. “Let's see, let's see... 'Today I beheld the magnificence of a sunrise in the wilderness. Being so far removed from my place of residence has resulted to be the quintessential manifestation of the most poignant of solitudes.' Booooring!”

“That's not boring,” Hector said in his defense. “That's how I felt, so I wrote it down!”

“Oh yeah?” returned the bird scornfully. “It's a wonder it didn't put me to sleep! I've read obituaries that were more exciting than that!”

“Well,” Hector started, unsure of how to proceed. He wasn't any good at debate. “You should... you should keep your nose – er, beak – out of other people's business.”

“Why?” it asked bitterly. “What else would I do all day?”

“Erm...”

The bird swiveled its head to glare at him with its other beady eye. “Hey, pip-squeak, I ack'chully have a better question for you. Ready?”

“I suppose.”

“Are you delicious?”

Hector had to stop and consider this one. Seeing as this bird had a very sharp beak and not the most polite of temperaments, it was more than likely that it had eaten at least one person in the past, and probably wouldn't be averse to doing to again in the future. After weighing the possible answers, Hector shrugged.

“I'll just have to admit that I don't know. I've never eaten myself before.”

The bird cackled again, jerking back and forth, its voice gargling in its throat like a bag of gravel being poured off the library roof. “Well, let's find out, eh? And please don't try to run away, it's so much harder to digest after rigorous exercise.”

Hector held up a hand. “Ah ah ah, but if you eat me, you'll never get into the Special Collections Wing of my library...”

The bird hesitated. It blinked once. “Library? What library?”

“What library? What library!” Hector laughed out loud. “What, do you mean to tell me that an avid reader like yourself has never heard of the magnificent Dunberg Public Library? You know, we have the greatest collection of diaries and personal accounts this side of the Grand Yerksham River!”

The word 'diaries' obviously seemed very tempting in the bird's mind, so it paused and pondered it for a moment. If it had had lips, it would have been smacking them with pleasure. “Diaries, you say... how many diaries?”

“Oh, hundreds upon hundreds,” Hector said holding up his hands in the air as a measurement. “Some of them this thick! The personal battle-records of Rigtar the Conqueror, the autobiography of Petre Lovingdrape IV, the account of Jad Wark--”

“That's all just old, dusty paper,” the bird protested.

“-- the Exhibit on Journal-Writing for Youngsters (I personally took a big part in the organization of that one, it was a great success by the way), and we even let some of the local youth submit their personal records to the library for safekeeping.”

“Oh! Oh! Oh! Diaries of teenage girls are my favorite! They put everything in there!” The bird was hopping back and forth with delight. The rock shook beneath Hector's feet, and he crouched to stable himself. “Secret crushes, grudges against friends, complaints against their parents and their friends' parents! Oh! Oh! Delicious!”

“But,” Hector warned, and the bird hesitated again.

“But what? Tell me!”

“They aren't going to let you in unless you have a library card.”

“A what now?”

“A library card,” Hector said, producing his own and waving it in the air. “It's a magical little piece of paper that lets you go in and borrow out any book you want, for free!”

“Give it to me!” whimpered the bird petulantly. It stomped again on the ground and a tree somewhere in the forest fell down with an echoing crash. It snapped at the card with its beak, but Hector pulled it away. “Give me the library card!”

He shook his head and tucked the card away in his wallet. “Ah, but this one wouldn't work for you. It's got my name on it, you see. You have to have a card with your name written on it.”

“My name is easy to spell,” it declared loudly. “First there's a 'J,' then there's a--”

“The only problem is that I am fresh out of cards.” Hector pulled his coat pockets inside out to demonstrate. “I need some specially printed ones, with the Dunberg City Seal on them. You can't get those just anywhere, you see. So in order to--”

“Get away from him!”

Suddenly, a figure dressed in dark gray robes burst from the trees and planted itself between Hector and the bird.

(Graphic 2.3: The Tovish woman starts glowing, and a fierce wind rushes through the forest. The bird staggers in the wind and is forced to take flight. It awkwardly flaps away, shrieking angrily.)

“I'll get that library card sooner or later, mark my words!” shouted the ugly avian as it lurched away through the air and vanished behind a hill.

The Tove turned around and looked coolly at Hector. “You're safe now. I'm impressed that you managed to survi--”

“What were you thinking!” Hector pouted. “It had him eating out of my hand! Almost literally! You're never supposed to just come along and stop someone from getting a library card!”

The Tove looked at him quizzically. “A library card?”

“They're free, even! Why stop someone from getting into the library?”

“I'm... not sure what you mean.”

“Never mind. I think he was probably going to eat me anyway, so thank you.”

She smiled slightly, but said nothing more.

Suddenly, Hector realized that he was standing in front of a real, live Tove, and that she did indeed appear to be female, and for the first time ever he realized that she was nothing like the anatomical drawings in all the library's extensive research and lore about Toves.

For example, the intelligence in her eyes. Cows and sheep and birds didn't have that spark or glimmer that implied rational thought like this Tovish woman did. Fascinating!

“Are you all right?” she asked. She had a strange accent, which was to be understood because she was speaking human language with an inhuman mouth.

Hector blinked, and realized he was staring at her. “Um. Yes. Er, thank you for saving me from the... bird thing.”

“That was the Jubjub bird. It is very dangerous and very feared by my people,” said the woman, and no matter how hard he tried Hector couldn't place an age on her. And was that concern in her face? It was hard to read Tovish body language. Hector realized he was staring again and forced himself to stop.

“Em. Yes, I can see why. Excuse me, but...” He cleared his throat. “Do you have a name? I mean, of course you do. Um.”

She nodded and spread her hands – covered with tan fur, and padded on the inside, not unlike a dog's paws – and said, “I am Lilly. What is your name?”

“Hector. Hector Blithe. Nice to meet you,” he said, and extended his hand. When Lilly glanced awkwardly at it, he slowly retracted it and swallowed again. “Right. Um. I'm going to grab my journal real quick, can you wait right here?” He started hobbling down the rocky crag, making his way toward the book which had been poked open by the Jubjub bird.

Lilly looked somewhat agitated and worried as she watched him climb down. “We don't have much time, Hector Blithe. This place is not safe, there are Mome Raths about, and we have to find Meadow as quickly as possible. I fear she has been captured, as I was.”

“Wait,” Hector panted, as he struggled to pull himself to the top of the rock again. Lilly reached down, took his wrist and easily tugged him up; she seemed a lot stronger than her thin frame suggested. “Meadow? You mean that's a person, not like, a field?”

“Meadow is my companion,” she explained with a note of anxiety in her voice as Hector shouldered his bookbag and made sure he wasn't missing anything. “Come with me, we have to go somewhere safe.”

Hector grinned with excitement. “Lead on! I'm game for an adventure!”

Lilly hesitated, giving him a very strange look before starting off at a brisk pace toward the forest. “Adventure, Hector? You think this is an adventure?”

Hector had to walk quickly to keep up with Lilly's long strides; she was taller than him, after all. He noticed with fascination that her knees bent at strange places, another canine feature, and that her pawlike feet were bare; she didn't seem to notice as she stepped on dry twigs and loose rocks. Once again, he remembered Slick Johnny's description as he watched her tail swish through the air as she walked. A tail! A tail and pointy ears! He giggled with delirious delight. It all felt like a dream.

“Well, I should think it's an adventure,” Hector said, remembering her question. He stumbled over a fallen log, trying to keep up with Lilly. “I mean, daring escapes, danger, more daring escapes, an epic journey. All we need now is a quest.”

Lilly's voice seemed strained with stress. “A quest? I don't understand what you keep trying to say. Why would we need a quest?”

Hector smiled and waved his hand dismissively. He reached out and touched the rough tree bark as they passed by. “Never mind, we'll find one eventually. That's the nature of an adventure.” They hopped over a trickling stream, taking an invisible path through the thickening woods. Lilly seemed to know exactly where she was going, though Hector couldn't tell how. He caught up to her for the tenth time and pulled out a notepad from his bag.

“I just have a few questions,” he suggested. “Do you have a last name? How does that sort of thing work in Tovish culture?” He continued walking for a few steps before he realized that Lilly had stopped.

Her brown eyes glared at him with... what? Frustration? Impatience? Pity? “Hector Blithe,” she said indignantly. She shook her head, and Hector couldn't help following her snout with his eyes. “What kind of person are you? Do you really have no idea of the danger we are in?”

“Nope,” he admitted, and shrugged. “But I can't exactly go home, not now. So I suppose I should go with you.”

Lilly stared straight ahead and said nothing. After a few awkward moments, she folded her arms tightly, as if to protect herself from something. Hector noticed that she was trembling.

“I think... I think I should tell you why I am here. Why I came to your city. I think you deserve to know. But I would ask you to please respect what I am going to say, and not treat it as a game. There are very serious things happening right now in the Wabe.”

“The Wabe?” Hector repeated. “Where is that?”

Lilly was obviously deep in thought, and when she spoke she did so very quietly. “The human word for it is 'the world'. Too many to explain all right now. But I suppose I will start from the beginning, so that you can understand.”

Hector pulled his journal from his bag and opened it to the first clean page, and forced himself to look Lilly in the eye. “I would like to ask your permission to write down whatever you are going to explain. I promise I will take it seriously, and I'll keep it private as well. I am a librarian, after all, and I know how to take care of written records. May I?” Lilly looked uncomfortably at the journal, but she nodded ever so slightly.

“Let's walk, and I will explain. We have to get to safety as quickly as possible.

“How do I begin? So many things have happened in these past few months. I suppose... I suppose you are familiar with how your people came to the Wabe, Hector Blithe?”

“Er,” Hector pondered, his pencil hovering over the page as he carefully stepped over forest-floor debris. “The Wabe? You mean how humans came into exis--”

“I'm sorry. I meant this land.”

He made a note in the margin. “Oh, this land. Got it. My great-grandfather was the first member of my family to settle here – he actually did so in Dunberg – we're actually from Hume overseas, and we came here because of the Great War of The Eleven Regents, in which-- well, I guess that's not really relevant. But we got here about a hundred years ago, give or take a decade.”

Lilly nodded. “And we have been in the Wabe since time was measured by Tove. You are strangers here. For a very long time we hated your kind; I say hated, but 'feared' is a better word. Most of us still fear you and think you are very dangerous to us, to the land and to yourselves. Like I said, you were strangers when you arrived from over the ocean, but as a people we are welcoming and respectful off all the Wabe's children and we gave you land where you could build your cities.

“There was a peace for a time, as I'm certain you know. But neither of our peoples was comfortable with the other being so close. And I believe that your kind feared us even more than we feared you, because of our Gyres.”

Something glimmered from the back of Hector's memory, like a cabinet opening somewhere in the dusty shelves of his mind. They left the trees and entered a rolling field with brown, knee-high grass that rustled in the morning breeze. “Gyre... I know that term. But what does it mean?”

“I will show you,” Lilly said calmly, and slowed to a stop in the tall grass.

(Graphic 2.5: Lilly spreads her feet out, closes her eyes and hold her hands a few inches apart. The air between her palms begins to glow, and suddenly a strong wind swirls out of the trees and over the grass. Hector closes his book to keep it from blowing away and gazes around in wonder. The wind stops.)

“That's what you did to the Jubjub bird!” Hector exclaimed. “Wow, you have no idea how cool that is!” He flipped open to the dogeared page and began scribbling furiously, mouthing silently the words he wrote. “Gyre. How do you spell that?”

“I believe it's spelled G-Y-R-E in your language.”

Hector's face hurt from smiling. “...R-E. Got it. By the way, where did you learn Humish?”

“I learned it as a child, from the shaman.” Lilly began walking again, and Hector believed she felt uncomfortable talking about herself, so he didn't push the question. “What was I explaining?”

“Gyres.”

“Ah. Your kind feared our kind for our Gyres, the gifts that the Wabe had given us. And so, in a way that we don't quite yet understand, a certain group of humans searched out and discovered the ancient magics –” Hector was exploding with questions but he resisted the urge to ask, diligently writing down Lilly's words. “ – and they formed a... group... what is the word? 'Group' is not right. It is something more... secret.”

“An underground organization? A secret club? A cult?”

“Yes, I believe that is the word. A cult. Those few humans formed a cult called the Mome Raths, and they began outgrabing –” she paused and shook her head as they trudged through the dry grass. Thick, gray November clouds gathered overhead, and the air smelled like rain. “I'm sorry. I still need to learn more Humish words. I believe the word is... it means 'to hold,' or 'to take into a dark place,' or...”

“Capture? Imprison?”

“No, 'steal' is the best word,” Lilly emphasized with quiet bitterness. “They began to steal Toves from their homes. This was about twenty years ago, shortly before I was born. They started with the wild, nomadic Toves, those that were not wanted in any tribe, and who would not be missed. But we knew that something was wrong; the shamans could feel it in the Wabe. We did not know at that time what was happening to our brethren.

“This continued for about a year, but then it stopped. We never saw another Mome Rath – at least not in my tribe or in my Borogrove, the one called Noosta – until thirteen years later. I remember that day, because it was my thirteenth birth-day.”

“What happened that day?” Hector whispered.

Lilly stared straight ahead as they tread carefully on an old log bridging a rushing creek. “On that day, they outgrabed the father of my friend, and a number of other tribe-members. Until then Noosta had been a safe haven, a place of refuge, and many tribes gathered there for protection. But we didn't know that the Mome Raths could somehow hide themselves from the Wabe's notice; our shamans did not know to warn us of their approach. And so we were attacked. We could do nothing.”

Hector stopped writing for a moment. “You couldn't do anything? Why didn't you use your Gyres to stop them?”

Lilly turned sharply and looked fiercely into Hector's eyes, but quickly averted her gaze and stared at the air by his head. Her face seemed full of hurt. “When I tell you we could do nothing, it was not because we chose not to. It was because we could not. The Mome Raths had a kind of power, or a kind of influence, and our Gyres had no power over them. Thus we could do nothing.”

“Ah,” Hector mumbled. He tapped his pencil absently on the page. For a moment nothing was said as they stood on a bank of dirt by the stream. Without a word Lilly started walking again and Hector caught up.

“So,” he said. “Why did you come to Dunberg?”

Lilly seemed to welcome the change of subject. “We went to Dunberg because there is a book there. A very special book. It is a book that was written years and years ago, when the Mome Raths began their cult. We knew of its existence because a shaman from the Rumili tribe was outgrabed as a child, and he escaped, but he heard the Mome Raths talk of this book. It is called --” Here Lilly actually swallowed before speaking again. “-- It is called the Manxor Slithe.”

Was it Hector's imagination, or did the meadow suddenly seem very dark and very exposed? Hector felt vulnerable, and he inched closer to his guide. “Ah, a Mome Rath book. Ahem. The M-Manxor Slithe, you say? Well, I'm the librarian there, and I'm pretty sure I would have known if there was a book there written by an evil cult with a name as exotic as that.”

Lilly's face contorted in discomfort. “Hector Blithe, the book would not have been called by its true name in your tongue. It would have had a different name in your library.”

He nodded and racked his brains. Was that book really sitting there in his library, polluting the utopian atmosphere with its mere presence? The thought troubled him. “What is the book about, then? Why were you trying to get it?” They entered the pine forest again at the other end of the meadow, but it only made Hector feel more frightened. The Jubjub's scratchy voice echoed in his head, and he seriously began to hope he wasn't delicious after all.

Lilly inched a little closer to Hector as they briskly walked, as though his presence helped her feel braver. “You see... The Ma-- er, the book contains knowledge about the Mome Rath rituals, and the ancient magics; it contains the most important parts of the ancient magics, that were abandoned long ago, and with good reason. The book will help us understand where the Mome Raths are getting their powers, and how we can stop them and cleanse the Wabe from their evil ways.

“But I'm afraid that this is not all the book contains. It speaks of a... something... something terrible. I do not wish to speak of it right now. But it is enough to say that that book is the only way to know how to stop the Mome Raths once and for all.”

Hector was getting frustrated. With every word that fell from Lilly's lips – well, she didn't have lips, exactly, but they definitely fell from her mouth – this Manxor Slithe seemed more and more familiar to him. But what name would it have gone by? Would it be in Special Collections? In some dusty old trunk in the cellar, locked shut with heavy chains and padlocks? Surely, not in reach of the children. Hector couldn't for the life of him remember where it might be in the entire building. He found himself hoping that the book actually didn't exist, but he couldn't shake the notion that it was there, somewhere, in the Dunberg Public Library. The brittle, pungent pine branches interwove overhead, producing an eerie and oppressive gloom. The two kept walking, and Hector's shoes crunched on the dry pine needles.

Suddenly, he asked, “But you didn't get the book, Lilly. And your companion didn't either, I'm pretty sure. So I guess it's still there. Right?”

But Lilly shook her head gravely. “I wish it were so. But because of... current events, Meadow and I were not the only ones looking for it.”

“You mean the Mome Raths are after it as well?”

Lilly clutched a hand to her heart and appeared intensely burdened with something. She looked away, and when she spoke her voice was strangled and raspy. “Yes, they are. We were hoping to reach the book first, but then I was captured and Meadow escaped. I do not know where she is but I trust that she is well. She can take care of herself, and I can too. But I am worried because now that we have failed, the Mome Raths will get the Manxor Slithe first..."

 

The darkness seemed to thicken around them as Lilly's trembling turned to violent shaking, which made skin on Hector's arms and neck prickle. He nervously glanced around; he couldn't see anything that wanted to eat them, but that didn't mean there was nothing there.

 “I... I do not know what we will do now,” she admitted. She refused to meet Hector's eyes. “For if they get their hands on that book, all is lost.”

The darkness, the wilderness, the solitude and Lilly's failing heart all suddenly crashed down, threatening to crush Hector's heart and entangle his mind with thoughts of despair. But in the last moment before his resolve collapsed, his hand – which had been resting on his bookbag – felt a familiar rectangular bulge inside. Quickly, he reached in and pulled out a book, whose title dimly read in the darkness:

The Adventures of Sir Jimbo

Suddenly Hector set his jaw, squared his shoulders, and made a decision. He stepped in front of Lilly and looked her straight in the eye. “Lilly Tove, your story is not over yet. It has just begun. You are not allowed to give up.”

Lilly wiped at her reddened eyes and blinked. “Story? But we're not in a story--”

“Who's to say we aren't!” Hector grinned. He flipped open the well-worn Adventures to one of the many dogeared pages and read aloud in his boldest voice,

“In the coldest wintry ev'ning,

When the stars did fear to show,

Sir Jimbo took his trowel and

Prepared his self to go.

'I'll find those bristic grobbits,'

He committed, not with shame,

'I'll get them all and bring them home

And make myself a name!'”

He slammed the book shut with both hands and shook it before her face. “Don't you see, Lilly? A story isn't about what happens to you! It's about what you choose to do! Adventures are about people who choose to make a difference! Do you know why I like to read so much?”

“No,” Lilly sniffed.

“I love to read because it makes me feel like I'm part of something greater! Reading makes me feel like I can conquer the world! Be it about dragons, or giants, or windmills, or daring rescues, or politico-economic superstructures, stories are about success!”

Lilly wiped at her eye again with the palm of her fuzzy hand, but there was a hint of a smile on her face. “Thank you, Hector. I'm not completely sure what you mean, but... thank you. I feel better now.”

His blood was pumping through his veins like a river of fire. Forget the wilderness! This is what made Hector feel alive: the intrepid heroes, the impossible quest, the dragon to be vanquished. He hefted the Adventures like the book was a mighty lance.

 “So, Lilly. Why shouldn't we just go back for the book?”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I... I am not welcome there. They will surely be watching for Toves; if they saw me they would kill me this time, not capture me.”

“And I'm probably on Dunberg's Most Wanted List,” Hector exulted.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I suppose we should still go to Noosta. It is the best option. And Meadow and I agreed that if something happened, we would both meet again there. It is this way,” she pointed, and they started walking again. This time, the piney darkness didn't seem quite so terrible.

“And who knows,” Hector mused. “Maybe the Mome Raths won't find the Manxor Slithe after all.”