Page 35 of The Cradle of Ice

Bats …

This was confirmed by Zeng, who dropped back to pace alongside Frell and waved his staff to chase off the last strays. He must have sensed his captive’s confusion.

“Since the founding of the Codex,” the Dresh’ri explained, “a colony has been preserved here. It is their home as much as ours. They serve as steadfast caretakers, helping to protect our treasures. Throughout the centuries, our winged brethren have feasted upon all manner of pests that risked damaging our vast bounty of leather and yellowed parchment.”

Frell felt both disgust and amazement at this shrewd accommodation. He also remembered the Dresh’ri sigil he had found embossed on the book back in his sanctum. It had shown the wings of a black bat with a golden eye glowing in the center.

Was this the source of that symbol?

“Of course, sharing this vault with these agile hunters requires a few precautions.” Zeng leaned closer and pointed to the side, toward a cluster of desks draped in leather, their surfaces daubed in guano. “And certainly a fair amount of mopping.”

Frell had already noted the many servitors shuffling through the shelves, cloaked in drab byor-ga, which made the resplendent white of the Dresh’ri stand out all the more. Like the city above, the subterranean librarie appeared to be an equally ordered world, structured by the hierarchy of its caste system.

The group finally reached the Codex’s core. At its center, a spiral stair led downward.

As he was lugged toward it, Zeng assured him, “We do not have far to go. The Venin awaits.”

* * *

DESPITE HIS ATTEMPT to stay focused, Frell grew dizzy as his bearers carried him down the tight spiral of the staircase. Their descent wound round and round, revealing a surprise.

The Codex extends down here, too.

The group marched past level after level, where more shelves spread out from the stairwell. He counted ten tiers by the time they reached a set of black iron doors sealing off the bottom. He was dumbfounded by the sheer enormity of the librarie.

All the knowledge of the world could be hidden down here.

And maybe it is.

Frell also noted that each scaffolded level appeared to shrink in size as they progressed, as if they were climbing through a pyramid balanced on its point.

And now we’ve reached that buried tip.

But what was here?

Zeng stepped to the door and rapped his staff three times. After a long breath, iron scraped loudly, and the doors swung wide. Firelight flickered from inside, dancing their shadows across the walls of the antechamber. A warm mist swept outward, redolent with incense.

Frell held his breath, fearing some other disabling compound in that scent, especially as the paralyzing miasma had begun to wear off. His fingers and toes now tingled and prickled. He could even slightly wiggle his digits, but it took great effort.

Zeng turned to the others. “Take him to the altar.”

Frell’s heart pounded harder.

Do they mean to sacrifice me?

He was carried over the threshold and down a short flight of stairs. The firelight grew brighter with each step. He sensed the weight of the librarie stacked overhead, all pressing down upon this small chamber.

A quiet chanting rose around him as he entered.

His bearers finally stopped and dropped Frell to his knees in the center of the room. Hands propped him up, but he could finally lift his own chin.

He nearly fell back in shock.

The small chamber had been carved out of rock, exposing twisted and sundered beams of ancient steel. Some claimed that the foundations of Kysalimri were rooted in the past, going as far back as the Forsaken Ages.

Is that what I’m seeing?

Between the protrusions of steel, shining emerald veins cut through the stone, glowing a poisonous hue, forming a noxious web. It spread outward from the far wall, where twin pyres burned, smoking with unknown alchymies.