Noodok stepped through the doorway, his cape trailing softly behind. He shoved one of the astronomers out of his way as gently as he could, but the man barely acknowledged him, staring upwards through the glass ceiling at the night sky.
He hated this place. All of the scholars of the great library were constantly immersed in their research, paying little heed to their surrounding. Too interested in their blasted star charts and weather patterns.
He walked briskly down the corridor bumping occasionally into one of the men who was staring upwards. Some murmured to themselves as they studied the sky, others simply contented themselves in silence.
It was like a blasted cult.
He pushed aside a thin lady blocking the doorway who looked like she hadn't eaten in days. She too ignored him, staring upwards into the inky darkness.
For scholars, these people were idiots. Most probably didn't even realize the danger they were in. The war would eventually take this place, as it had taken all the others.
A fat man murmured softly as he passed him.
"Orion...."
He paused, before turning to the man. Was this his contact?
He spoke softly as to not draw attention.
"Yes?"
The man lay a hand on his arm, not shifting his gaze, before pointing upwards.
"Orion. Look. The stars on his belt are dim. That's not a good omen. Scorpio's light is bright. Orion is our protector from the scorpion... There is danger."
Noodok seethed with anger. Just another idiot interested in his fucking stars.
While they stared upwards and made great premonitions that had yet to come true, and probably never would, the world around them burned.
He shrugged the man off, nearly knocking him over.
Why the hell did his contact decide meeting here was a good idea?
He paced the hallways. Others had noticed what the first man had seen now, and were muttering it softly.
Damn it. It would be impossible to tell if someone was addressing him or his namesake.
For a split second he felt like screaming and lashing out, killing each of them until he found what he needed. He paused, taken aback by his sudden rage.
He wondered if the anger came from somewhere... If he was honestly just frustrated, or his previous cursed state had altered his emotions.
He shook his head softly.
This place brought out the worst in him and he would be glad to be rid of it.
He glanced back where he had been walking and noticed that the scholars were all gone.
Odd.
Even more odd, there was something strange about this place. He realized he had been walking in a straight line, but he had passed the same door hanging softly off one hinge, the other decayed from years of neglect.
Was he going in circles?
He glanced up at the open roof. Maybe the man was right. There was something odd about the stars tonight.
They seemed to flicker and dance in unusual patterns. He felt drawn to them... They were beautiful in a way. He wondered if the men and women of this library could really tell the future.
An alarm rang in his head. He realized he couldn't look down again. He breathed heavily for a moment, before accepting it.
It didn't matter though.
The stars were beautiful. Maybe he had carried a telescope with him? He reached into his pouch, fumbling for something that would help him see better. His hand caught on something and he glanced down to find his hand bloody, a knifes blade clutched in it.
Realizing almost immediately the danger he was in, he blinked in confusion, before jamming it deep into his own thigh.
Immediately he fell forward, and grasped his leg, grunting, his focus on the stars broken. Hissing through gritted teeth he wrenched the knife free of his leg and glanced down the hall. The scholars were back, each staring upwards, ignoring his curses of pain.
He realized now. They were not scholars... But prisoners. Something here was wrong, very wrong. They had been there the whole time, he had just... Lost sight of them.
He flipped his hood up to block his vision from the stars and stared at the ground as he rose unsteadily to his feet again, his leg wailing at its newfound discomfort.
Anger again flashed through him. He had been double crossed. The contact wasn't here, and it had been a trap. Pure luck had saved him. He focused on his leg, trying to block all thoughts but the pain. How long had he been here? At least one night. And yet it was still night outside....
He lay his palm on the wall and shuffled along it, half staggering, half crawling. If he followed a wall he would eventually find the exit.
A small smile flicked across his lips.
No prison would hold him.
And when he got out he was going to kill that blasted Mage.
(Image source: highdarktemplar on Deviant art)
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Part 2 here: https://steemit.com/writing/@ilovebatcatstew/the-accursed-library-part-2
