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SYNOPSIS: The ambitious monk Manheim and the callow novice Julian are unlikely traveling companions. Both would consider the circumstances surrounding their journey mere bad luck—yet, one way or another, they have been charged with a single, important mission: Find the Blackpage!
Twenty years after Manheim’s rival monk, Byron—now called The Blackpage—was exiled from the Order of Authors, this adventuring party will face dangers in the mysterious wilds of Daranna. Yet, all agree that nothing they could encounter is more dangerous than the man they hope to find…
INDEX | Chapter 1 | <Previous (Chapter 5) | Next (Chapter 7)>
The Test
Inquisitor Varus picked up the book, and looked up at Yan Dawil. “Has anyone come back from this test?”
Yan Dawil crossed his arms, and shook his head: “Nothing more will I say. Let the young ones pass the test, we may speak when you are done.”
Manheim hissed something at a whisper to Varus which Julian couldn’t hear, but which Dawil understood. He boomed, “You may not refuse the test. You take the test, or my blade. It would be a pity to stain it’s metal with your blood—better this way.”
Varus looked in turn at Manheim, Julian, and Henri. “Very well. Shall we begin?”
Dawil stepped back, allowing the four to gather around the book. The book had a sigil on the leather cover which shimmered with it’s own light. Julian recognized it as the sigil of the Blackpage. It was a thick book, compared even to the books carried by Manheim and Varus. When Varus opened it, it’s pages were dry and brown with age. Varus inspected the runework on the inside cover, and a few pages within.
The script was totally unfamiliar to Julian. He looked at Henri, who whispered back, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“What does it mean?” Julian ventured to Varus.
“It is a trap book—the Blackpage’s sigil might as well have told us this. But Dawil has suggested it to us as a test. The exit must be contained within. I won’t mince words, we are going into danger here. I cannot promise I know what we will encounter. Yet we are at the mercy of Yan Dawil if we do not. I cannot compel you, but it does seem to be our best chance at success.”
Manheim nodded—and that affirmed Julian. Julian looked to Henri, who was giving him his exasperated look. He simply said, “If I die, I’m going to haunt you. If you die, I’ll find a way to haunt you anyway. But—” he continued, quieter, “please don’t let us die.”
Julian nodded, “It’s on me,” he held out a hand, which Henri shook.
“Deal.”
Varus sighed. “Very well. Join hands.”
Julian reluctantly took Manheim’s hand on the left, and Henri’s on the right. Manheim and Henri each put a hand on Varus’ shoulders. Varus put his hands on the book. He began to chant an incantation in a strange language…
It was a sensation like falling. Everyone seemed to fall forward towards the book, and yet through it—a great wind pulled at Julian from all directions, yet he felt pulled into place by Manheim and Henri. The four landed with a splash in a cave with very little light—Varus let out a yelp, and tumbled to the shallow water on the floor. The book was gone.
Manheim and Henri quickly helped Varus to his feet, while Julian took in their surroundings—this was his first entrance into a book, and felt like he could see the Blackpage’s signature on everything. The cave was dark, yet there were holes overhead that let just enough light to see that the walls were nearly vertical and flat. Their section of cave was a small dome, which exit to a high-ceilinged hallway where the water was low. The path seemed to split, from what Julian could see, at the end of the hall.
“What is this place?”
“The Blackpage’s trap-world. We should tread carefully. We don’t know what he has hidden here.”
“We should not waste time. Let’s complete the test and get the help from Yan Dawil. The path leads this way—” Manheim sloshed forward, leaving Henri to help support the aged Varus through the shallow water.
Manheim turned, and saw that no one was following him. There was a pause, only the gentle drip, drip of water echoed in the cave. “Oh, very well. I’ll go see what is ahead, come when you’re ready. Carefully,” he said.
The dripping—Julian looked up, and noticed that misty rain was falling through the holes in the ceiling, and the drips were spilling over the edge, past the nearly vertical walls and into the shallow water below. The walls were not perfectly flat, there was an organic roughness to them, like it was a natural cave—yet they were arranged together so perfectly as to seem designed. There was a mark, like a wide ‘v’ shape with a single thin line pointing vertically above its center without connecting to the v, topped by a small circle. “Is that a Rune?” he asked.
Henri looked, and shrugged, shouldering Varus and limping towards the hallway where Manheim was stepping gingerly. As they crossed through the hallway, under the openings above them—Julian looked up. The rain had intensified from a mist to a gentle drops, like a spring rain. It was daylight outside, he could see light grey clouds but not much else. As they progressed down the hallway it was clear these were the only lights they would find—the end of the hallway became increasingly dark.
Manheim sloshed into view again. “There’s three rooms,” he said, “and three books.”
Varus sighed. “This must be the test. Which book leads out? Two must lead to death.”
“Can books lead to death?” Julian asked.
“Some traps are like prisons—when you enter the world, you are in an enclosed space and cannot exit. It is a clever and advanced design—if this is one of Brother Byron’s worlds he has clearly excelled at the craft beyond our hopes and fears both.”
Manheim scoffed. “Nothing stops us from simply picking a book.”
“If we choose wrong we all die. This test is clearly about our ability to read the script and discern the true nature of the books. But we have so much ti—”
Varus’ final words were drowned out by a sudden splash. Julian whipped around, and noticed that the gentle drips had become a stream. The rain had intensified. Julian looked down, and realized the shallow water was gradually rising—now it was above their ankles. “Not that much time, inquisitor.”
“Blast this Blackpage.” Varus muttered. “Of course. Henri, help me to the books. Let’s hurry.”
Inquisitor Varus wouldn’t let any of them touch the books as they progressed, and he took his time inspecting each one. Julian kept looking back at the hallway at the water increasingly pouring in not just from the rain but pouring over the edges, like it was collecting on the ground above them and pouring in. Yet Varus would not be rushed.
After he had inspected the third book, and the water was now at their knees, Varus said, “I cannot tell. Each has a unique sigil, different from the Blackpage’s mark but clearly his. I cannot tell what each book does on it’s own.”
“Inquisitor,” Manheim insisted, “time is wasting. We must open the books and inspect them.”
“No! If I no longer know what the Blackpage is capable of, the risk is too great.”
“We will drown if we waste any more time.” Julian had to concede he had a point—the water was now pouring into the cave in sheets, thunder rumbled beyond the cave.
“Let’s at least start here.” Manheim went over to the book in the middle room near where they were standing, and flipped the cover open. A red light filled the dark room, Manheim turned towards Varus, but it was too late—a great wind roared and he fell into the book with a thud, and vanished.
Varus said, “I don’t think that was the book.”
“The water is rising fast, inquisitor.” Henri said from under his shoulder.
“What happens if the book gets wet?” Julian asked.
“The book—and all that’s in it—is erased. Come, surely there must be some other clue. We now know we cannot open the books without confidence.”
Julian followed them to the third room, and they looked it over. The sigil on the cover was a square containing a circle, a wide “v” crossing over both of them with it’s point in the center. It shimmered with a purple light. They trudged and half-swam over to the first room, and Julian inspected that cover now, too. The sigil was a wide “v” with a thin line rising out of the center, topped by a circle. Julian’s eyes were wide with recognition.
“This symbol! This is the symbol on the wall in the main room—this must be the book!”
“What symbol?” Varus asked.
“The symbol, I asked if it was a rune. It was on the wall! Do you remember?”
Henri nodded. “Yes, I remember you saying something. You’re sure it was this symbol? I didn’t get a good look at it”
“I am certain.”
Varus grabbed Julian by the shoulder. “Are you certain?”
“I am certain. This must be the book, right?”
“It must be. The Blackpage is entertained by cunning, this does seem like the kind of trick he would play. There is no time.”
“What about Manheim? How do we get him out?”
“There’s no time—”
Julian hesitated. On the one hand—Manheim was a problem. But if the possibility to save him existed, it didn’t feel right to leave him behind. If nothing else, he had to be the bigger person, to prove to Manheim that he was above the pettiness of lies. “I will get his book. Hurry—the water is rising.”
Henri looked scared. “Julian—what if—”
“Then I’ll have the same fate when I follow in a moment. And if I’m wrong my fate will be the same. I have to try.”
Henri took a deep breath and nodded. Varus gripped him a little tighter, and opened the book. A soft green light filled the room, a great wind roared, and they fell through. The book returned to the pedestal.
The water was rising fast.
Julian turned and dove into the water, swimming through the hall so he could go a little faster. His robes pulled and dragged in the sloshing current of the cave. He made it to the middle room, and water was lapping at the edges of the pedestal. He rushed over, grabbed the book, careful to keep it closed. Nothing happened—he picked it up, and carried it above his head, far from the water.
The journey back to the first room with it’s book and safety was slower—he lost his footing in the rushing water, and slipped—but kept one hand with the book above the water always. Pushing through the rising water as fast as he could, he made it to the book, placed his wet hand on its cover, opened it, and—
Julian fell wetly onto dirt and leaves and pinecones. The air smelled like smoke and…bacon? He coughed—his lungs burning with fear and exertion. Henri leapt up and rushed over to him. Julian gingerly handed him the book.
Yan Dawil smiled broadly through his copper beard. “You have returned, young ones! And the impatient one is trapped. HA! You have proven yourselves too cunning for the Blackpage’s snare. Very good. Very good. You will eat with Yan Dawil, then we will discuss a trade.”
Julian collapsed on the dirt—he had never been so happy to see Yan Dawil, whom he now feared less than he feared the Blackpage.
To be continued…
Thank you very much for reading! This is Find The Blackpage, a fantasy adventure serial set in the world of Daranna. This will be a serial publishing every week, for a tentative total of twelve episodes. Please subscribe to be sure you don’t miss an installment sent directly to your inbox!
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God bless!
AJPM
Will Julian's mercy extend only so far as to rescue the book? No. He dangles bacon over the pages, and they fall forward into the red light.
Good on him rescuing Manheim('s book)! It hadn't even occurred to me that you could put books within books. Stories within stories...