"Your soul is ours.”
“NO!”
I shuddered at the pain in that voice. Kiliman reached toward me, furious, but it was too late. A fire grew from nothing at his feet. It burned around him, and he screamed again.
"You will fall, Smedry! The Librarians will have your blood! It will be spilt on an altar to make the very Lenses we'll use to destroy your kingdoms, break that which you love, and enslave those who follow you. You may have beaten me, but you will fall!"
I shivered. The fires consumed Kiliman, and I had to shield my eyes against the bright light.
And then, it was gone. I blinked, clearing the afterimage from my eyes, and saw a new Curator – one with only half of a skull – hovering where Kiliman had stood. A group of discarded nuts, bolts, gears, and springs were scattered on the ground.
The half-skull Curator hovered over to the side of the room, carefully replacing the scroll that had been pulled free. I ignored it; there were more important things to worry about.
"Bastille!" I said, rushing over to her. There was blood on her lips, and she seemed so bruised and battered. I knelt beside her.
She groaned softly. I gulped.
"Nice trick," she whispered. "With the trip wire."
"Thanks."
She coughed, then spit up some blood.
By the first sands, I thought with a sudden stab of fear. No. This can't be happening!
"Bastille, I . . ." I suddenly found tears in my eyes. "I wasn't fast enough or smart enough. I'm sorry.”
"What are you blathering about?"
I blinked. "Well, you look kind of bad, and . . ."
"Shut up and help me to my feet," she said, stumbling to her knees.
I stared at her.
"What?" she said. "It's not like I'm dying or anything. I just broke a few ribs and bit my tongue. Shattering Glass, Smedry, do you have to be so melodramatic all the time?"
With that, she stretched, grimaced, and stumbled over to pick up the fallen Crystin sword.
I got to my feet, feeling relieved and a little foolish. I went over and carefully untied the Translator's Lenses from the trip wire, then slid them into their pocket, where they belonged. To the side, I could see Kaz peek into the room, apparently having returned from depositing Draulin and Australia somewhere safe. He smiled broadly when he saw me and Bastille, then rushed into the room.
“Alcatraz, kid, I can't believe you're still alive!”
"I know," I said. "I thought for sure one of us was going to die. You know, if I ever write my memoirs, this section is going to seem really boring because nobody was narratively dynamic enough to get themselves killed."
Bastille snorted, joining us, holding one of her arms close to her side. "That's real inspiring, Smedry."
"You're the one who stopped following the plan," I said.
"What? Kiliman was faster than you. How exactly were you planning to keep him from chasing you down as you ran?"
"I'm . . . not sure," I admitted.
Kaz just laughed. "What happened to Kiliman anyway?"
I pointed toward the Curator with half of a skull. "He's doing a little bit of soul-searching," I said. "You could say that watching over these books is his soul responsibility now. He'll probably enjoy the soul-itary lifestyle."
"Can I hit him?" Bastille asked flatly.
I smiled, then noticed something on the ground. I picked it up – a single, yellow Lens.
"What's that?"
"Tracker's Lens," I said. "Kiliman's. It had been in the pouch with Draulin's Fleshstone."
“My mother," Bastille said. "How is she?"
"I'm fine," Draulin's voice said. We spun to find her standing beside a sheepish Australia in the doorway.
"Fine" was a stretch - Draulin still looked pale, like someone who had been sick for far too long. Yet, her step was steady as she walked into the room and joined us.
"Lord Smedry," she said, going down on one knee. “I’ve failed you."
"Nonsense," I said.
"The Librarian of the Scrivener’s Bones captured me," she said. "I was caught in a trap, tied up, and he was able to take me without any trouble. I have shamed my order."
I rolled my eyes. "The rest of us got caught in Curator traps too. We were just lucky enough to wiggle out of them before Kiliman found us.”
Draulin still bowed her head. On the back of her neck, I caught sight of a sparkling crystal - her Fleshstone, replaced.
"Get up and stop apologizing," I said. “I’m serious. You did well. You forced a confrontation with Kiliman, and we won that confrontation. So, consider yourself part of our victory."
Draulin stood up, though she didn't appear appeased. She fell into her traditional parade-rest stance, looking straight ahead. "As you wish, Lord Smedry."
"Mother," Bastille said.
Draulin looked down.
"Here," Bastille said, holding up the Crystin blade.
I blinked in shock. For some reason, I'd been expecting Bastille to keep that.
Draulin hesitated for a moment, then took th
e sword.
"Thank you," she said, then sheathed it on her back. "What are your plans now, Lord Smedry?"
"I'm . . . not sure yet,” I said.
"Then I will set up a perimeter around this room." Draulin bowed to me, then walked over to the entrance and took up a guard position. Bastille moved toward the other entrance, but I grabbed her arm.
"That woman should be begging for your forgiveness."
"Why?" Bastille asked.
"You're in so much trouble because you lost your sword," I said. "Well, Draulin didn't do much better now, did she?"
"But she got hers back."
"So?"
"So, she didn't break it.”
"Only because of us.”
"No," Bastille said, "because of you, Alcatraz. Kiliman defeated me just like the Alivened in the downtown Library did. You had to save me both times."
“I . . .”
Bastille carefully removed my hand from her arm. “I appreciate it, Smedry. I really do. I'd be dead several times over if it wasn't for you."
With that, she walked away. Never before had a thank-you seemed so despondent to my ears.
Things aren't going to get fixed that easily, I thought. Bastille still considers herself a failure.
We're going to have to do something about that.
"You going to destroy that, kid?" Kaz asked.
I glanced down, realizing that I still had Kiliman's Tracker's Lens in my fingers.
"It's very Dark Oculary," Kaz said, rubbing his chin.
"Blood-forged Lenses are bad business.”