Ziun was still restless after spending his first week at Novice Hall.
He was there because some magic user his mother knew saw that he was gifted with a seed of magic, though she didn’t know what kind.
She told them the school would discover and nurture his talent, so his parents sent him there, where he quickly learned he was not an exciting exception of talent.
It stung how quickly they bundled him off, but once there he was relieved as the courses progressed because he didn’t stand out, enduring the frustrations they all did at trying to develop and control their gifts..
But this night….
He supposed it was homesickness.
Donning his robe and slippers, he quietly left the others to their sleeping happens, noxious as some were, and walked down the shadow filled hall.
The ensconced torches cast soft, dappled ambers, and created some shadows of their own.
The moon’s saffron beams were molded into coffin shaped rhombuses by the floor to ceiling windows that lined the east wall.
Ziun took a moment to admire the beauty of it..
At the end of the hall were two floor length doors with glass that opened into the garden, and from there to the path leading to the library.
There were stories about the library being haunted, and parts of it that were closed.
He decided to put his walk to use and see what there was to see after hours.
****************
The door sentry was asleep. Even worse, he was sitting with his spear across his lap when he should have been standing watch and holding it.
It was just as well. He would have brooked no argument and sent Siun back to the Hall to fight his insomnia on his own.
He found the garden path, paved with stones that were uneven as the earth beneath and between them battled for sovereignty. Siun took his time lest he trip of stub a toe that would make him curse, wake the guard, and get him into trouble he wasn’t looking for.
As he walked the path, he noted how quiet it was outside too.
There were no small creatures rustling the underbrush, no nightbirds, not even an owl.
No plaintive, haunting howling came from the surrounding hills.
No deer bellowed in the night at catching his scent.
No wonder the sentry fell asleep.
No sense of foreboding came over him to make him wary, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t be vigilant. Unpleasant things could surprise someone, especially in such a lush garden.
Stopping for a moment, he decided to try out a sensory spell to see if anything was hidden that meant him harm.
A warmth spread over him, starting from his hands, and he closed his eyes.
The warmth left him, pulsing into the high garden trees and over the flower beds, slinking along ivy vines and curling up tree trunks like rambunctious squirrels.
Nothing came back to him, and he opened his eyes.
**************
As he continued walking around the library, heading toward the back of it, the garden began to change from lush to wild, as if the gardeners didn’t get to it as frequently.
The moonlight had shifted to where it was now more toward the front of the library, so now the garden in the back was darker, and Ziun’s arm hairs stood up, though he still saw nothing that threatened him.
Turning a corner to go back to the hall, he passed an open window a little above his head.
It had a lit lantern that sat on a small stack of books with others next to it.
One of them was open to the middle. He couldn’t see the title from where he stood.
Thinking it might have been another late night student, he waited to see if anyone emerged,
but no one came.
“Is anyone there?”
The lantern light flared and brightened.
Ziun. You’ve come at last.
He shivered. “What?”
We’ve been waiting for you.
“Who? Who are you? Why were you waiting for me?”
He wanted to step back, but found himself walking toward the window.
Standing just beneath the sill, he saw the light flare again and felt what he thought might be a hand against his cheek.
To help you.
“Help me? Help me to do what?”
As he stepped away the hand went from his cheek to the front of his robe, seizing him, pulling him back.
The light in the lantern went out, and more unseen hands lifted him into the library as the window closed behind him, and the light flared to life again, and he saw all the spirits looking at him.
One stepped forward, placing a spectral hand on his cheek.
He saw the nails, and dared not move.
Set us free.
Nightshade Stories 