So what if she saw you naked? I am naked all the time.
That's no consolation, master.
Stop whining now. I see the library. Shri said.
Karnan looked up, the large double doors of the grandest closet of arts, books and scrolls stood astride before him. He entered with Shri and was immediately struck by the familiar smell. A dash of damp with the freshness of new hay. Like the first scent of rain in a forest of cedars.
An unknown scribe sat behind the large mango-wood desk, wearing the sapphire robes of an assistant teacher. A young, yet bald man, he shot them a glance before gesturing them to the empty wall behind him.
"But, sir, there is-" Karnan had only said as the shelf split apart. A narrow corridor lay beyond, lit by large torches lined on both sides.
He walked in beneath the smug gaze of the scribe. For fifty steps, the passage stretched before opening into a huge hall. Light orbs of blue, green and amber floated in the air. The atrium looked like it was a part of a child's fever dream. Rows of shelves with memory tablets stacked inside were arranged like a battalion. The hall wasn't guarded, but Karnan felt like being seen. He looked up. Darkness rained from above. The shelves towered deep into the very haze of black. Karnan couldn't even fathom the height at which the roof must be. But the library, though being a separate building, was never this tall when seen from the outside.
Shri scoffed beside him. Such wastage of prana. Stay still. I will search for a suitable art for you.
She sat on her haunches and closed her eyes. After a few minutes, she spoke to him, Take a left. On the eleventh row, turn right. Walk eleven steps and then turn around. Your art will be straight across you. Retrieve and return. And, be quick. We are being scryed.
Karnan scratched his head, "Scryed? As in being seen from afar?"
Shri hissed, Get going!
He bolted off without further prodding. At the eleventh row, he took a right and counted eleven steps. He turned. A light orb happened to pass before him. He saw a cracked memory tablet piled against other broken ones. He stepped closer, mostly all the tablets were in pieces. He looked at the other shelves and found the same dilapidation.
Master, do you see this?
Yes, this storehouse is not that useful. Most of its contents are unreadable. The one before you is slightly cracked and can still be used. Moreover, it's exactly the type of wind art you need for now.
Karnan nodded and carefully picked it. Memory tablets were used to record the patterns of the arts. A porous and soft stone was used to do so, over which the recorder would inflict their prana while maintaining the pattern of the art they wanted to store. Once done, the stone would kind of remember the dance of prana and cosmic light. People even used these stones to keep memories.
He held the cool, rectangular tablet and returned to Shri.
How much starlight do you have now? She asked.
Karnan checked and said, Only a fingernail-sized drop.
That will be enough to learn this. Sit down and memorise the pattern.
He let a bit of prana into the stone's surface. A blue glow emanated from it. Soon, two orbs began to spiral around each other until merging into a single blue ball of light.
This is easier than the heat-strike. He thought and closed his eyes. He inhaled, segregated prana from the air in his lungs and then made the prana flow into his chakra at his navel, to the awaiting cosmic light. He willed the prana into a ball. Now, inside his chakra, two tiny balls revolved, one white, one a deep shade of silver. To create celestial art, one had to move both spheres in certain shapes. Most of the time, they were geometric, but for some higher-level arts, the shapes were as complex as a mandala.
For the one Shri had chosen for him, he had to move each ball down a funnelling path, while spiralling in opposing directions, until both met at the end of the funnel. The prana orb had to be moved left to right, while the cosmic one had to be spiralled right to left. Difficult for someone new, but not for him or his classmates, as for the nine years they had spent in this school, there wasn't a day that they hadn't practised drawing these shapes.
Both orbs moved as stated in the tablet. Slowly and carefully, he brought them down. They met at the bottom, and a single sphere of art formed, which meant he could only use this art once.
Good, now hold it there for a while. Let your chakra remember it. As it is an element-based art, it will take time.
That was the difficult part. The art spheres were high-density energies, constantly whizzing and buzzing. Keeping them locked in a place was akin to holding water with one's palm. The ball began to disintegrate.
Maintain the shape! Shri yelled. She appeared shaken. Karnan focused all of his attention on his chakra.
Steady your prana, keep it flowing and use it to strengthen your chakra. She added from behind.
The chakra was a circular chamber, made of astral ether, that every human being was born with. After being accepted by the cosmic order, the chakras gain the elemental affinities of their celestials. But, as a first step, one had to introduce the chakra to the elemental art. To establish a synergy. Like strangers greeting each other for the first time.
Sweat pebbled on his forehead as he strained to fix the glowing and pulsing orb of power inside his chakra. He fed more of his prana to the walls of his chakra.
A sharp sting came from his core, and he coughed blood.
Release the art. Now!
Karnan let go of his control. The orb fizzled, the used-up prana swept back into his lungs and was then exhaled out, leaving only the cosmic light inside his core.
He was panting, his chest pounding. He leaned forward, both palms over the floor, fatigued.
"What, what happened?" He gasped.
Shri skirted and faced him. Her sapphire and crimson pupils searched his face. She then placed her paw over his navel. After a while, she retracted.
This is strange. Your celestial being is a star. You should have an affinity for air and fire. But," She went quiet and began pacing back and forth before him.
Someone cleared their throat behind him. Karnan turned. The scribe stood between torches in the narrow passage.
"Time's up. Get lost now," he said with a smirk.
Karnan, we have to choose something not purely elemental as of now. There is one in the third row. I don't have the exact location. Just search for anything that is still intact. I will distract this man till then. Shri said and jumped at the scribe.
Karnan sprang and sprinted to his right, towards the third row. The man screamed and then giggled as Shri rubbed against him. On reaching the third row, he scanned for any unbroken piece. Both shelves around him stretched far into the void, and with the spinning and dancing light orbs, it was difficult to see. He walked ahead. The entire alley was lined with broken stones and dust. As he went in, he saw cobwebs, huge and imposing, blocking his way. This section was seldom visited then.
"Come out now! Hey, leave my cloak! My scroll! Where are you? Control your dog!" the scribe was shouting. Karnan went in deeper, spider strings stuck to his face. He felt something crawling inside his shirt.
Karnan! Be quick. He has frozen my legs. I can't move! He is going after you.
He quickened his steps. The slabs here were not broken like in the first sections. But it still didn't feel right to him. As if what he sought wasn't there but ahead.
The pounding of soles echoed around the empty hall. "Stop venturing in! You mongrel!" the scribe fumed from behind.
Karnan ran.
What are you doing! Pick something, anything! Shri howled.
Just a bit more. Right ahead, a bit more. He said to himself and her. He couldn't explain the feeling, but it was as if his heart knew where to look, and that was still a few steps beyond.
More nightmares crawled and slithered under his shirt and trousers. He steeled his mind and focused ahead. The footfalls thudded louder behind him. The air suddenly dropped its heat, his breath forming mist on his face.
He heard ice crack. "Stop! Thieving from the grand library amounts to a death sentence," the man thundered, perhaps a few feet away. Well within range to be able to kill him from behind.
Karnan turned left. His heart was pulsing faster than ever. A red orb drifted down from above. There it was, illuminated by crimson light, tucked between grey and white slabs. A blackened one. Seemingly burnt to a crisp, yet his hand reached for it. As his fingers wrapped around the soft stone, relief swept over him. Like he was meeting a long-lost lover.
He turned towards the man. An ice spear hovered above both his shoulders. He took a long glance at the thing in his hand and frowned. The lances flew straight at him.
Karnan! No! Shri growled.
There was no window to avoid them. His chest went cold as the ice spears slammed together and went inside and then past him, deep into the darkness. Without harming him. Still in shock, he saw the scribe smile before crumbling into dust.
Suddenly, the hall lit up in a golden glow. The battered shelves now brimmed with pristinely kept memory slabs, and the crawling over his skin stopped. There were no cobwebs, no broken pieces of stone, no specks of dust choking him anymore. It was like he had been pulled out of a purgatory.
What just happened? He sensed and also shared the surprise in Shri's tone. What had happened? The library seemed smaller now, with rows of neatly arranged shelves. The black tiled floor reflected his dumbfounded image at him. Paws slapped. He looked up, and Shri was running at him.
He shrugged while shaking his head side to side. She came, and her eyes went to the slab he was holding.
It was charred, with no visible etching of any pattern. He was about to spill some of his prana over it when he heard a man call his name.
"Karnan al Veera. Are you done? Cause I am," he said with a yawn.
Shri gave him a nod. He went back to the entrance. The scribe looked at him, stretching his arms above his head. He saw the slab and his eyes went wide. His face went red, and his cheeks puffed before he burst out laughing.
"Karnan al Veera. I apologise, but" he forced himself to stop, "your art. Oh heavens. What kind of divine comedy are you doing with this poor boy, Oh! Oh my heart, my heart."
He took deep breaths, rubbing a hand over his chest. "Fine, then. If the library deems you fit for this baby. Who am I to object?"
"I, I don't understand. What just happened? It was dark and now-" Karnan stuttered.
With an arm, he leaned against a shelf, "I thought you'd have known. But this is not just a library. It's a place of power. Can't you sense the prana here is different?"
When he said that, Shri whispered to him, Now I see. This place is ancient. From my time. This current of power. Baal?
"Baal?" Karnan blurted out.
The scribe smiled, "You do know then. Why did you waste my time? Shoo now. I need to close this place and get home."
Shri said, Baal, I had never thought he'd be so close. This changes a lot of things, Karnan. Let's leave. We have a lot to discuss and work on, especially the burnt tablet.
She trotted towards the exit. Karnan stood there, with more questions than answers. Baal. He thought, and a jet of air brushed past his ear. As if the place too repeated after him.