MN Writes Short Stories

     Eliza felt it.  

     Their sweat is mine, 

     Their blood is mine. 

     Dust in the air had yet to settle against the corpses strewn about the fields like flecks of dew on a morning leaf. The sword in her hands was tainted in twisted shadows of blackened blood. 

     The heat of the sun blasted against the remains of everyone: Argyle, Soma, even Cid and Lottie, all were gone. 

     Even several nameless soldiers of the enemy. 

     She sighed as he stood up, feeling the wind blow against her face. 

     She didn’t know who they were, never did. They simply held a different banner than hers. 

     A single soldier was left of the enemy, holding a pike and a crossbow in his weary hands as he stared down at Eliza’s weary body. 

     “For the King!” he cried as he fired his crossbow against the salted wind.

     The bolt struck her in the shoulder, close to where another had landed sometime before, forcing its’ twin to fall from his body.

     “It’s over boy,” Eliza shouted as she stood up. “This battle is lost to the both of us. Let it go.” 

     The soldier shook his head and threw the crossbow to the ground as he gripped his pike in his trembling hands. His face was covered in sweat and dirt, just as Eliza’s was. 

     Remarkably, he appeared to not be wounded, the single difference between their positions. 

     Eliza sighed and smirked. 

     “We don’t have to do this, we both know how this will end, let it go.”

     The soldier stared at Eliza with a hate-filled passion that burned in his heart, and charged up to her as fast as his aching legs would carry him. She sighed as he saw him charge, shouting wildly as he nervously held the pike in his hands.

     “Enough!” she shouted as he grabbed the pike before it’s blade reached him, and threw the soldier to the side, tossing him into a pile of corpses. 

     The soldier coughed as she approached him, trying to will his lungs to cooperate with his actions. 

     “It’s over. Our armies are gone, our lieges have destroyed themselves a hundred times over. Go home,” Eliza shouted.

     The soldier shook his head and tried to stand.

     Eliza sighed curled her armored hand into a steel fist, and struck him as hard as he could against his face.

     “Still breathing. Good,” she observed as the soldier’s chest continued to rise and fall in harmony with his lungs. 

     Dropping her blade, she let it fall into the ground piercing the sleeve of some rotting general, planting itself into the dead soil of the desert.

     Blinking, she tried to ignore the dust covering her face as she coughed. The lingering energy in the air swirling against her pain-wracked body, like little jolts of static that curled up her arms and into her silent chest.

     Staring at the boy, she sighed as she thought of the mess she put herself into. This boy would awake, remember the horrors that he saw and seek revenge. 

     And the cycle would continue. 

     “Not today, not now,” Eliza muttered as she stripped her armor off. 

     The steel fell against the dry fields, stained crimson from the battle, as Eliza lifted the boy onto her shoulders. 

     Carrying him on her shoulders, she scanned the fields for any trace of life, and sighed at her findings: all the soldiers here had died or were dying. There were none alive save for her and the boy. Eliza shrugged at his load as he walked away from the battlefield. 

     Nearby, a swamp’s waters lazily drifted about, indifferent to the battle so close to its’ craggy shores and rotted tree stumps. 

     Eliza sighed as she concentrated on the wind blowing through air from the aromatic waters of the swamp. Energy filled her veins as she put her hands in front of her, as she began to whisper to the winds. 

     At the height of her whispering, she suddenly stopped, and through the air she heard the sound of hoof beats riding towards her. 

     An ebon horse rode up to them, fit with a saddle and reins. Its pale eyes beamed against its fur like a pair of stars in the night sky, shining brightly even against the sun above. 

     “Take him to the nearest friendly town, and be swift,” Eliza ordered as she placed the man onto the saddle. 

     The horse was silent as it stared at her, and strode off towards the East as fast as its legs would carry.

     Allison sighed as Emerson scratched his chin. 

     “I took the book with me and placed it into our underground vault soon afterwards, and it was quiet until the 23rd…” 

     Allison took a deep breath as Emerson summoned Lock. 

     He stared at it and it stared back. 

     Emerson raised an eyebrow and pointed at Allison with his eyes while continuing his stare. Lock stared back and simply shrugged, showing about as much personality as it was created with.

     Several minutes of silence passed as Allison 

     “I need to make a phone call,” he finally muttered as he grabbed the old rotary phone on his desk. 

     It was a shining, polished black, with slight speckles of dust over its dials. Mostly kept there for show, it only served one purpose, something that Emerson hadn’t had to do in nearly ten years. 

     He picked up the phone and gripped his fists tightly. Small beads of sweat dripped down his brow as his fingers shakily pulled on the dials for the numbers on the telephone. Allison stared at him blankly as he gulped as the phone began to ring. 

     The office was quiet save for Allison tapping her finger on her cheek, and nearly everything that Emerson was doing. His nervous ticks blending with the faint ringing from the telephone to create an orchestra of anxiety that filled the room like a poisonous gas. 

     Allison sighed and lowered her head into her hands, twisting her short brown hair in her hands as Emerson finally broke their silence. 

     “Ah…hello? Is this Alexis? Mhm, it’s been a long time. I’m sorry? Yes. Yes. I just need you to watch the office for a little bit. Yeah, a young lady. Ms. Allison. Nah didn’t catch it. Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

     Hanging up the phone, he stretched his back. 

     “An old friend of mine will be over soon to watch you while I go to the scene of the library. Just to investigate any clues or what have you. I hope that this arrangement is acceptable?” he explained as he stretched his arms. 

     Allison nodded.

     “I don’t mind,” she replied.

     Emerson smiled weakly. 

     “Ah, very good then. Please make yourself comfortable, no need to be formal. And while I’m gone, this place is as good as yours. Oh and…try to keep Alexis from going into my bedroom if you don’t mind. We….er…had an odd relationship a few years back, and I suspect she’s still mad at me…” 

     Allison smirked. 

     “What did you do to her?” 

     Emerson squinted back as he drew a deep sigh.

     “It’s…a long story.” 

     Allison grinned. 

     Despite the situation she was in, she seemed to be very lighthearted, Emerson thought to himself as he watched her. Something about that seems off to him. 

     “We’ve got time, you said it might be a while right?” 

     Emerson, expecting that line of logic from her, waved his hand dismissively. 

     “I said she’d be here ‘soon’ not ‘in a while’. Two –very– different concepts. At any rate, my past isn’t particularly any business of yours, I am not here to exchange niceties,” he explained as he stood up. “I’m here to protect you and your book until our contract is complete.” 

     Allison stared at him as he glanced out the window, unsure of what grabbed his attention now, and though she didn’t particularly appreciate his answer to her question, she slumped her shoulders relenting on her curiosity for now. 

     “Now…what has your…boss told you about this book?” he asked as he eyed it again. 

     Allison straightened herself in her chair and shrugged.

     “I’ve told you everything that’s happened. I can’t really think of any other details except that this is a very important book. I wasn’t really given any other information about it….” 

     Emerson shrugged.

     “Alright, if that’s the best you can give me, I’ll see what I can do.” 

     Emerson stood up and picked up the book as his doorbell rang.

     “Ah, that must be her. I’ll return in a moment.”

     Emerson left her in his office as he walked through a hallway to his door. 

     Before he opened it, he glanced outside through his peep hole to see a young woman in a smart dress that matched the sky. She stared back at him and frowned.

     “You know I can see you right?” she asked.

     Emerson frowned as he opened the door.

     “Just...checking the door…”

     She laughed as she opened the door. As she walked through she glanced around at the office, grinning at the multitudes of books. Smiling as she stood inside, she snapped her fingers, closing the door instantly.

     “Oh Emmy, you worry so much. I hope this is important, I had to cancel meeting my best friend’s girlfriend. You remember Anja?” She asked, “Her girlfriend is such a delight! She’s…”   

     Emerson glared at her, stopping her short.

     “Fine, fine. Business before pleasure. Lock, a pleasure to see you again,” she replied curtsying before the figure behind Emerson. 

     Lock bowed slightly. 

     “Enough! Let me introduce you to my client…” 

     Alexis smiled and turned to Allison.

     He climbed up the stairs, rolling his hands along the wooden banister as he passed by several old photographs. In several pictures, he was joined by the same two men, but they were old and dusted now, just like the rest of his office.

     “You can come out now, they’re gone,” he cried as he opened a small freezer, taking out a small bag of ice.

     He placed the ice pack on his desk, as he moved a newspaper out of the way, it’s bold headlines staring at him in the face.

     Explosion at the State Library! Suspects Still at Large!

     “Lovely,” he muttered as the young woman emerged from the stairs behind his desk, taking her seat back.

     Emerson motioned to the ice pack as he sipped his water. As she sat down, she grabbed the ice pack burying her face into it as she sighed.

     “Who are you?” he asked. “And what’s going on?”

     The young woman frowned as she lifted her head from her tear-stained hands. Emerson pulled a kerchief from his breast pocket, and tossed it lightly onto his desk, eyeing the bronze pin on the woman’s coat.

     She smiled gently, and picked up the kerchief and promptly blew her nose.

     “Ah, thank you very much Mr. Reed,” she whispered as she wiped her nose.

     “Emerson is fine,” he replied as Lock massaged his shoulders.

     The young woman smiled awkwardly and nodded.

     “I am…er…” she began before stopping herself, pointing at what she thought was a floating glass. “What was that?”

     Lock’s hand disappeared from Emerson’s empty cup as Emerson caught it in an instant, hiding the illusory floating the young woman thought she had witnessed.

     “Hm?” he asked, as he turned to the water jug again.

     “Right...” the young woman muttered, staring at the cup. “My name is Allison Brown. I’m a librarian.”

     Emerson filled his cup as she explained.

     “Pleasure, I’m sure.”

     Allison sighed.

     “No, not quite. You see, I am in a bit of trouble presently. I’m sure you saw those policemen downstairs. I don’t know how you got rid of them though….”

     Emerson sipped again and glanced at Lock, who remained motionless at the door.

     “All authorities require some sort of persuasion that everything’s under control. When they have that, they’ll usually not bother you. Though these days it would seem that some officers prefer a more…literal control,” he muttered with contempt as he gripped his cup harder than he intended, making Lock’s hand appear within his own, destroying the cup with its strength.

     “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your story,” Emerson exclaimed apologetically, “just sort of got caught up in the moment is all.”

     Allison waved her hand.

     “Not at all, it’s quite alright.”

     She frowned as Emerson grabbed another cup.

     “It’s sort of a messy tale.”

     Emerson shrugged.

     “Messy tales are usually the most interesting.”

     Allison smiled weakly.

     “Yes, that’s true I guess,” she replied, straightening her posture in the chair.

     “Are you familiar with rare books?” Allison asked.

     Emerson shrugged.

     “Not exactly something I often come across in my line of work, but on occasion I guess a client or two has had me guard one or something like that.”

     Allison’s gentle face hardened into a severe expression.

     “This is not a job for a guard. I need someone to help me protect a book,” she explained gravely. “A book that has the capacity to cause much bloodshed.”

     Emerson raised an eyebrow.

     “Bloodshed…? Who are you, really?”

     Allison’s face paled.

     “What…do you mean?” she asked.

     Emerson’s eyes narrowed.

     “You come here seeking my help involving some rare book, as the police are chasing you. In addition to relying on me to help run them off, you want me to hold something that is clearly evidence of theft due to the recent events at the State Library!” he barked as he shoved the newspaper in front of her.

     Tears began to form in Allison’s eyes.

     “I…it’s not like that. I didn’t…”

     Emerson sighed.

     “Tell me the truth,” he growled.

     Allison shrugged.

     “This is the book, Mr. Reed,” she sighed as she pulled the book from her coat pocket.

     It was a very thick book. With metallic ink of silver and gold twisting around each other against a cool emerald leather.

     “What kind of book is this? I can’t read the title,” Emerson observed.

     Allison frowned.

     “I can’t read it either. It was given to me by the librarian to hold just a week before that article printed.”

     Emerson glanced at the date.

     “A week…I see,” he whispered as he glanced at the dusty calendar on the wall. “The event itself occurred around November 23rd, the article appearing about a day later, as well as on various news channels. Sort of surprised to hear someone wait this long to mention it to me about it considering the police are handling it. You acquired this text, according to your story, a week before so that would place it at around the 16th, correct?”

     Allison nodded.

     “So…according to your story,” Emerson began as he stood up, picking up the text. “You work in a library, where you no doubt see all kinds of books, texts, etc; including rare pieces like this one,” he muttered, gesturing to the book in his hands.

     “Mhm,” Allison replied, agreeing.

     “A week ago, you came into possession of this book. How? And what did you do with it?” Emerson asked as he stared at the newspaper article’s photograph of the charred and smoking library.

     Allison cleared her throat.

     “The director approached me with a dusty box, inside which was the book,” she explained. “He told me that I was to keep after this book for a while as he was going to be on vacation to see some family of his or something,” she replied.

     Emerson took a swallow of water as he glanced at the clock on his wall.