Longfang (17 page)

‘If I didn’t know better, I’d be tempted to believe someone was looking after me today,’ he muttered. His lips twisted into a wry smile and his eyes flicked heavenward.
‘If you are, then thanks,’ he added.

Jack had hardly set foot inside a church in his life, but at this moment he felt obliged to thank someone for keeping him alive. Even if no one was listening, it made him feel good.

He sat up and checked the map to see if the words he had written on the back of it were still legible. They were. He smiled. It was a wonderful moment. Walking away from the burning wreckage of
his aircraft made him feel he was beginning another life – gifted with a chance to start again.

‘Start again . . .’ he muttered. ‘That’s it!’

He lifted the map and scanned through the poem. The answers were obvious. Why had he not seen them before? He knew the answers – all of them. He had what the dragonriders needed. They had
what he needed. With their help he could take his revenge on Von Richthofen and strike a devastating blow for the Allies. But he had no way to contact them. The irony of it was priceless.

Jack threw his head back and laughed. It was all he could do.

Chapter Fifteen

Kalen felt deeply troubled as he watched the High Lord and his dragonrider friend, Segun, leave. Tarpone had never been a true scholar. He had dabbled with study on and off for
many years, but had never taken it seriously. Even as a youth, the man who had risen to become High Lord had always been far more interested in money and status. He had been born to a wealthy
family, and had used his father’s influence and fortune to achieve ultimate power in Harkesis.

‘What are you up to, Tarpone?’ Kalen muttered under his breath. ‘Do you know what you’re doing? Segun is attempting to sabotage the quest of the two young girls.
He’s a nasty piece of work, or I’m no scholar. Why help him? Feeding Kira and Nolita misinformation will serve no good purpose.’

Stroking his chin thoughtfully, Kalen tried to dismiss the visit from his mind. He knew to tread carefully around the High Lord. Even though he had maintained a relationship that bordered on
friendship with Tarpone for many years, he knew their long association would count for nothing if he did not do as he had been asked.

‘Find the answer to the riddle first,’ he told himself. ‘You can worry about what to do with it once you’ve figured out the answer.’

He went to the master index and began thumbing through it until he found the reference he wanted. The books he needed were in the North Hall.

‘I should have known!’ he grumbled, closing the master index.

The North Hall was several degrees cooler than the rest of the Grand Library and Kalen had developed a particular distaste for it during the past few years. His old bones increasingly felt the
cold and he avoided working there as a matter of habit.

He looked around at the men studying at the tables nearby. They were immersed in their work, but there was one he felt he could trust to relate a message.

‘Conrad?’ he asked, speaking boldly to attract the man’s attention. ‘Conrad, would you mind doing me a small service?’

‘That depends, Kalen,’ the scholar replied. ‘I’m rather busy at the moment.’

‘I need someone to pass on a message. Are you going to be here for a while longer?’ Kalen asked.

‘Yes, I’ll be here all day.’

‘Good. Did you notice the two young female dragonriders I was with earlier?’

‘I did.’

‘They have gone to get something to eat,’ Kalen explained. ‘They’ll not be long. Could you tell them I’ve gone to the North Hall, please? I’m seeking the
answer to a riddle for them. Rather than risk their getting lost, could you ask them to wait for me here?’

‘Of course, Kalen,’ the old man replied. ‘I shall watch for them.’

Kalen thanked Conrad and set off through the maze of bookcases. The riddle was all the more tantalising now. With at least two distinct factions of dragonriders involved in the search, he knew
the answer was important. Dragonriders did not chase shadows without reason – especially not someone like Segun. Something big was happening. Maybe if he found the answer to the riddle, he
would be considered worthy of being elevated to the gold sash.

The most prestigious level of scholarship had eluded Kalen for decades. It had been over twenty season rotations since he had been raised to the purple sash for his book on social dynamics. To
be awarded purple was a great honour and Kalen was proud of his achievements, but the dream of every scholar was to achieve the ultimate accolade. There were only three living scholars in all
Harkesis who wore the gold. Perhaps this was his chance to join that most elite group of scholars. To solve a riddle that eluded the minds of dragons – surely that would be considered
special. But if it proved easy, would it be special enough? Perhaps he should drag out his findings – make the discovery more dramatic.

His pace quickened as his excitement mounted. By the time he reached the North Hall he was marching between the bookcases with a stride that spoke of urgency and purpose. His focus was fixed and
his mind was racing through possibilities. Given his preoccupation, it was perhaps not surprising that he did not notice the silent figure following his every move.

‘Kalen has gone to the North Hall to seek an answer to your riddle.’

Kira smiled at the old scholar. ‘Thank you, sir,’ she replied. ‘I did wonder how we were going to find him in this huge library. Could you direct us to the North Hall, please?
We’re not familiar with the layout.’

‘He asked me to tell you to remain here until he returns,’ the man replied. ‘If you go looking for him, you might miss one another and circle endlessly.’

‘You’re quite right, sir,’ Kira said, her heart sinking at the thought of having to sit here and wait for Kalen to return. ‘Has he been gone long?’

‘Oh, some time now, I think,’ Conrad replied, looking down at his book and trying to remember. ‘Judging by how much I’ve read since I spoke to him, I’d say it must
be more than an hour since he left. Kalen is a most competent scholar. If your answer can be found, then he will find it.’

Kira did not ask what would happen if the answer could not be found. She thanked him again and drew Nolita across to an unoccupied table. Lunch had been an experience she would not forget in a
hurry. Life in the city was very different from life in the savannah and jungle of southern Racafi. She could tell that Nolita felt as uncomfortable as she did. The prickle of her hunter’s
instinct had begun again the moment they stepped through the great doors of the Grand Library. With her nerves on edge and her eyes constantly scanning for signs of danger, Kira slowly sat
down.

Her bottom barely touched the chair before she was on her feet again. A shout reverberated through the air shaking her to the core.

‘MURDER! MURDER IN THE LIBRARY!’

It was hard to tell where the shout had come from, but Kira caught the eye of the old scholar and he pointed without hesitation. She was in motion in a heartbeat. A glance up at the meridian
line on the great dome gave her the reference she needed. Her hunting knife was in her hand, though she did not remember drawing it. Nolita ran alongside her. The blonde girl also held a gleaming
blade at the ready. Kira had felt the menace in the air from the moment she arrived. She was not going to be caught unprepared if they came face to face with the source of the dark aura.

Weaving between the bookcases at speed, they quickly emerged from the maze. The moment she saw the body on the floor in the doorway, Kira knew it was Kalen. Four younger men in white robes
surrounded him. Kira accelerated into a sprint.

‘Get away from him!’ she warned as she skidded to a stop on the mosaic tiled floor. ‘All of you – get away from him. Now!’

One look at Kira’s face was enough. The gleam of clean steel in her hand reinforced the reaction. Three of the men backed away, their hands raised in a gesture of peace. The fourth did not
move. He had his right hand on Kalen’s back and his left was feeling the side of the old man’s neck. A large pool of blood was creeping across the floor.

‘I can’t feel a pulse, but the blood is still spreading,’ the young scholar said, sounding both panicked and frightened. ‘What should we do?’

‘Get away from him,’ Kira repeated. ‘Let me see. Do you have medics nearby?’

‘Not nearby, but we can send for them.’

‘Then do it. Quickly!’

One of the young scholars turned and ran in the direction of the main entrance.

The young man kneeling by Kalen slowly got to his feet and stepped back to join his remaining colleagues. Kira was quick to take his place. She laid her blade down gently on Kalen’s lower
back. The back of his robe was totally soaked with blood and a trail of blood led back into the North Hall. The old man must have dragged himself some distance across the floor to the doorway.

There were two holes through the back of his robe. Whoever stabbed him knew what he was doing. Both wounds were horizontal. The killer had struck low enough to miss the tough bone of the
shoulder blade, but high enough to slip the blade between the ribs and into Kalen’s lungs. It was no wonder that the old scholar had not cried out when he was attacked.

As Kira made her assessment of the wounds another young scholar came running across the North Hall waving a piece of parchment.

‘I found this,’ he gasped.

Kira ignored him, maintaining her focus on Kalen.

‘What is it, Mikhal?’ asked the young scholar who had been last to move away from Kalen.

‘It was on the floor next to the place where the blood trail begins,’ Mikhal panted. ‘It just has a single word on it: “Darkenfell”. Do you think it’s
important?’

Nolita gasped and Kira glanced at her. The blonde girl’s face looked pale with shock, but whether that was at the sight of Kalen’s body, or at the name the young scholar had
mentioned was unclear.

‘What is it, Nolita?’ she asked. ‘Have you heard of Darkenfell? Where is it?’

‘It’s an evil name,’ Nolita replied, her voice barely more than a whisper. ‘No one goes there by choice.’

‘Well we may have to,’ Kira said, her voice hard as iron. ‘Where is this Darkenfell? I’ve never heard of it before.’

‘It’s on the far side of Northern Cemaria.’

‘Damn!’ Kira swore, her hands clenching tight into fists. ‘It would be! It’ll take us weeks to get there without Elian and Aurora. Weeks we don’t have.’

‘Let me see that piece of paper, Mikhal,’ said a deep voice from behind them.

It was Conrad, the old scholar who had directed them from the central study area of the library. A small crowd had gathered from all directions, but it was Conrad who stepped forwards. The young
man held the piece of parchment out to his senior. He assessed it with a single glance and waved it away.

‘Strange,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘That’s not Kalen’s handwriting.’

To Kira’s complete surprise, Kalen’s body and right arm began to move. Startled, she flinched and overbalanced, falling away from him and scrabbling quickly to regain her feet.
Conrad quickly took her place, crouching down and talking to Kalen in a low, encouraging voice. ‘What is it, old friend? Yes it’s me, Conrad. Relax. We’re here now.’

Kalen raised his right hand slightly, pinching his thumb and first two fingers together.

‘A quill,’ Conrad ordered. ‘Someone give me a quill. You there! Take a book from the shelf behind you. Any book. It doesn’t matter which one.’

Someone gave Conrad a quill, which he, in turn, placed gently between Kalen’s questing fingers.

‘The book, man! Come on! He doesn’t have long.’

‘But it’ll be ruined, sir!’ the junior replied, a note of anguish in his voice.

‘I’ll take responsibility for that. Now do as you’re told.’

With trembling fingers the junior handed Conrad a thin, leather-bound book. Without hesitation the old scholar opened it to the blank final page and placed the book down into the pool of blood
underneath Kalen’s hand. Shaking with effort, Kalen trawled the nib of the quill through the pool of blood and began scratching out a string of spidery letters on the open page. It seemed to
take an age for him to form each symbol, but Conrad was nodding and muttering encouragement throughout. Tears formed in Kira’s eyes as she watched the determination of the dying man to
complete his message.

With a horrible gurgling groan, Kalen’s whole body suddenly tensed and then relaxed into death. The word was left unfinished, a trailing line of blood dragged across the rest of the page
marking his final moment of life.

Kira scanned the small crowd of scholars. They were all wearing light-coloured robes. The only person aside from Conrad and herself who had any blood on them was the young man who had knelt by
Kalen’s side when she had first approached. He did not have the look of a killer. The old man had dragged himself a considerable distance from where he had been attacked. The murderer would
be long gone by now.

‘Did he name his attacker?’ she asked, looking at the strange red symbols Kalen had scratched into the book.

Conrad shook his head. ‘No,’ he said, sounding puzzled. ‘His dying wish was to solve your riddle, but I’m not sure what his message means.’