The Librarian: A Remnants of Magic Novel (The Librarian of Alexandria Book 2) by Casey White (reading list txt) 📗

She didn’t respond, which was exactly as he’d expected.

Before the man could run away and render the whole attack useless, Owl surged out again.  The intruder flinched, hands up, already backing away.

Stop him here.  His eyes narrowed.  Crystals sprang from the walls, growing from the floor beneath the outsider.  They rose like monoliths, swallowing the man’s feet, his ankles.

Owl grinned, starting to advance.  Yes.  He’d have a second prisoner, another soldier taken out, never to attack him again.  What little composure the man had collected seemed to be vanishing as the crystals spread across his thighs, pinning his arms back.  Don’t kill him.  Don’t swallow him whole.

Another step, and-

Something grabbed hold of Owl’s ankle.  He stumbled, the world spinning again, and went down hard.

The bookshelf.  It’d stretched, growing tendrils like roots, and wrapped around his leg tighter and tighter.  Owl kicked at them, trying to work his way free.  The crystal-trapped intruder?  No, he was too occupied.  But then-

“G-Go!” he heard a woman cry.  “I’ve got him, but I don’t know how long-”

“Just hold!” a man roared.

Owl’s chin lifted.  Two figures watched him from the deepest shadows of a nearby hall.  Indira—and Rickard, charging out in front of her.

Perfect.

Kicking wasn’t getting him anywhere.  Sucking a breath of air in, Owl spread his fingers wide, pushing down hard.  Flames gusted from his palms, seething down over the roots and branches binding him down.

They seared away in an instant, just puffs of cinders and smoke.  He clenched his teeth, refusing to let the heat off as he stumbled to his feet.  His arms snapped up, red-orange fires still rolling from his hands.

Rickard skidded to a stop, throwing his arms up protectively.  “Indira!” Owl heard him cry.  “Would you just-”

“I-I’m trying!” Indira bit her lip, eyes narrowing, but Owl was on his feet now, heat pouring off his form in waves.

Push them back, he whispered to himself.  Drive them into the hallway behind.  The balconies overhead formed a cap on the room—and the hallway they’d hidden in was their only escape.  Tearing his attention off the flames for a scant moment, his gaze flicked to the hall.

The groaning of stone scraping against stone was completely inaudible beneath the roar of the fires, but he saw a wall rise from the ground, blocking them off.

Good.  Seal that route.  Don’t let them get out.  Stiffening his arms, he took a step forward.  Another.  Rickard skittered back, his face and arms starting to redden.  He stretched a hand out, wincing—and Owl gritted his teeth, pouring more heat into the exchange.

All he had to do was drive them back, then wall them off.  If he could take out the both of them, he’d cripple the Bookbinder’s leadership.

He couldn’t lose here.  And he wouldn’t.

“Indira!” Rickard snapped again.  His voice was starting to go hoarse, losing what little cheer it’d had before.  “Whatever you’re going to do, just-”

Indira snarled, her face contorting.  Her hand jerked across, then plummeted.

The stone floor beneath Owl wobbled ominously—then gave way, collapsing to slop.  He plunged in, shock momentarily overcoming his own determination.  Mud splashed up to his chest.  His neck.  The tug against his feet increased, with no signs of it letting up anytime soon.  He grabbed for the stony lip of the well, fighting to keep from going under.

This.  He...He remembered this.  A man, swallowed up by Alexandria, buried in the earth.

Only this time, he couldn’t leave.

Rickard’s cries rang in his ears, unintelligible behind Indira’s.  A complaint, no doubt.  The Bookbinder didn’t seem to want him dead, and even the Librarian couldn’t breathe through mud and rock.

But...this was Alexandria, not some prehistoric tar pit.

Owl made up his mind in an instant.  Before he could change it, he let go.  Indira’s yells turned to a wordless shriek.

The mud closed over his head before he heard anything else.

Keep your cool.  Owl sublimated his fear, fighting against the parts of him that had just gone into full protest.  He was the Librarian, and this was the Library.  He didn’t have to sleep.  He didn’t have to eat.

So why did he need to breathe?

The world went dark.  He peered out through the lenses of his mask, desperately clinging to the idea that it was more than just a hunk of clay strapped to his face.  It would hold.  It would keep the mud out.  It would.

Kicking out hard, he swam.  It’s not mud.  It’s water.  It’s air.  I’m floating, sailing through Alexandria, the emptiness around her.  The pressure against him loosened, and he smiled tightly.  It was still dark.  But...Rickard and Indira had been a dozen or two feet in front of him.  Just...about…

His lungs burned.  They were not being logical about this—but he was close enough.  Swinging himself back to vertical, Owl balled up his fist.  One hand brushed against the stone above him, like ice holding a diver underwater.

He punched.  Cracks spread through the barrier.  Again.  Light gleamed through the crevice.  A third, and-

The stone gave way with a crunch, and light poured back into his world.  Owl was in motion before the first rocky fragment hit the ground, launching himself through the gap.

He could see Rickard and Indira, huddled together—and the crater he must’ve vanished through, a few steps beyond.  As he watched, they twisted, stiffening at the sight of him behind them.

Don’t let up.  Mud dripped off his form, but he stumbled forward, wiping his mask clean enough to see. The pair turned, eyes going wide.  He only had a second.

He lifted a foot, stomping it into the ground hard.  The air around them crackled, seething with energy.  He heard someone yelp, and then the unwitting man he’d first spotted bolted away down another path.  The bait, Owl thought with a wry smile.  Of course, he could see that now.

Lightning crackled from inside the storm gathering before Indira and Rickard.  They stumbled backward, momentarily baffled as mists churned, spreading by the second.  An angry black ball of clouds collected at the storm’s heart.

“Just stun her,” Owl