Knights Apocalyptica - Chapter 134: Abgott

The phenomena of the transformation of deities into demons meet the student of Demonology at every step. We shall have to consider many examples of a kind similar to those which have been mentioned in the preceding chapter; but it is necessary to present at this stage of our inquiry a sufficient number of examples to establish the fact that in every country forces have been at work to degrade the primitive gods into types of evil, as preliminary to a consideration of the nature of those forces.

We find the history of the phenomena suggested in the German word for idol, Abgott—ex-god. Then we have ‘pagan,’ villager, and ‘heathen,’ of the heath, denoting those who stood by their old gods after others had transferred their faith to the new. These words bring us to consider the influence upon religious conceptions of the struggles which have occurred between races and nations, and consequently between their religions. It must be borne in mind that by the time any tribes had gathered to the consistency of a nation, one of the strongest forces of its coherence would be its priesthood.

So soon as it became a general belief that there were in the universe good and evil Powers, there must arise a popular demand for the means of obtaining their favour; and this demand has never failed to obtain a supply of priesthoods claiming to bind or influence the præternatural beings. These priesthoods represent the strongest motives and fears of a people, and they were gradually intrenched in great institutions involving powerful interests.

-Conway, Moncure Daniel, Demonology and Devil-lore (1879, 2nd Era)

“So many books…” Enide muttered as the group stalked down one of the infinite library pathways. The vast labyrinth went on and on without any end. Every so often, Boldwick would stop them. Then, hurriedly, they would stoop to mark the ground with chalk. Thankfully, hastily scribbled marks weren’t their only way home. Erec had a live map constructed by VAL as they walked. If he had to bet, the two senior Knights likely had their own form of automatic mapping software.

When it came to exploring a different world, every safety measure was important.

“Remember not to touch anything. So say our Armored guides. What a pity. Think of how much the Magi might pay to get information about this place,” Rochester shook his head.

“You intend to sell the location of the vault to them?” Boldwick asked.

“I didn’t intend to. Though I don’t find the idea very appealing, as long as we get their aid by turning in Seven-Snakes, we thankfully don’t have to consider it. If they did find out, there’s no doubt in my mind they’d exploit it.” Rochester shrugged, “Still, selling it to them or not doesn’t remove my temptation to page through some of them, whether or not I can read it aside.”

“Focus on the mission. We both know that. It’s better to interact with other worlds as little as possible; unless it becomes vital, it’s unnecessary. As badly as we may want to.” Boldwick stood up, a new mark on the ground. There was another torn book not too far from it, one of the signs left behind by Seven-Snakes. He’d set his method of backtracking by ripping apart books. They didn’t care to operate on the same rules as the Knight, but just how far did they plan to travel into this world?

Tension ran high, despite the conversation. To Erec, this place always shifted and moved in the corner of his vision. But it was primarily books rattling around, waiting for the humans to walk past before moving. These things had minds of their own.

But it felt like there was more than that going on. This place lived, thought, and watched; there was a weight to walking through these massive bookshelves as if the shadows followed them. Lurking and curious about the people now roaming its infinite halls.

From what they’d seen, there was nothing besides books and shelves. No walls, no sky. There were floating lights far above—the only ‘natural’ light source in this place. The movements of the flying candles appeared random at first. Then, as one paid attention, a pattern emerged. Candles grouped and flowed between the shelves in small rivers; if there wasn’t a constant stream of them, they tended to stick to groups. Now and then, he spotted a solo candle; when they were alone, they burned bright, almost like they were calling into the shadows for their own.

When there was only a pair, but two of them, they burned the brightest. Two candles would circle one another as they passed through the world alone, trapped in one another’s orbit.

The first time he saw it, Erec felt a weird chord in his heart: they seemed to defy the oppressive darkness all around, with no care for anything other than themselves—content with one another. Even if shadows owned everything around them, their light only flared more.

“…Is that a swarm of books?” Colin asked, pointing through a gap in the bookshelf.

That snapped everyone into focus; they arranged themselves to peer through the space left on the shelf. It didn’t take long to spot it. A flood of books was fluttering in a vortex of chaos and mayhem. The sound of their ruffling pages was deafening.

Erec stepped back, pulling a hatchet free.

The flood crested through whatever gaps they could find, flying around the Knights in a swarm. His axe went clean through the spine of a book—but none of them were attacking.

After killing two, he stopped himself, bewildered.

Not a second to think before the shelf the books fled through shook with a massive bang. Such a feat was impossible, given how big the things were and as solid as they came supporting tons of weight on their shelves. Yet it rocked, almost toppling over and onto the Knights. Above them, twenty black tendrils shot through the cracks, each targeting a book and snatching it out of the air before yanking the things back through the case.

Following the brief moment of literary violence, there was a thump on the other side.

Colin slid away as discretely as he could manage from the shelf.

Through the gaps, Erec strained to see what was happening. A shadowy mass crouched on the other side, roughly in the shape of a human. Shadowy tendrils lazily floated around it without care for gravity. It held a floating candle hostage in one of its inky black tentacles and waved it over all the pinned books it’d captured. Eyes swam across the surface of the black tendrils and shape, tendrils occasionally whipping downward to rip out pages from the captured books and throw them with abandon.

It was… Reading? In the most destructive way Erec could imagine.

One of the eyes swam down to the end of a tendril, swaying like a snake as it floated back to the shelf that separated it from the Knights.

Boldwick gave a silent gesture for them to move, which the Pendragons didn’t need encouragement to do. They pulled away from the book carnage as silent as a sneaking mouse. All the while, Erec kept turning to look at where the monster was. There was no mistaking the sight of an eye-popping through the shelf, its strained white iris staring at the Knights leaving. It didn’t pursue them.

All it did was watch—another eye in the darkness of this alien world.

— – ☢ – — – ☼ – — – ☢ – —

Two hours of walking finally broke the monotony and paranoia spawned by the endless sprawling library.

Their long journey led to a massive carved-out space that formed a perfect square in the middle of the library for half a mile on each side. It was a nexus. Thousands of sprawling hallways spiraled outward from the clearing; the center was filled with a building made of white bricks, contrasting the dull grey and brown all around it.

In contrast to the world around it, the place was also lit with bright blue torches set in scones around the exterior, washing the white with blue. As the flames moved, it gave it an almost wave-like texture of light. Its substantial roof overshot the interior walls and was supported by massive white pillars. From where they stood, Erec couldn’t make out any apparent entrances. However, there wasn’t a single floating candle in the vast space between the end of the hallways and the open square; they avoided crossing the threshold by passing through the shelves instead.

“So many ways they could’ve gone…” Boldwick sighed, looking at the rows and rows leading back into the endless shelves. “…But of course, there isn’t a doubt in my mind that they went to that building in the middle. Goddess, I hope they’re still alive.”

“Seven-Snakes is likely to be around; he’s a weasel of a man.” Rochester shrugged. “What are the chances this is what he came here for, to begin with?”

“Possible, but it’s just as likely this is some foreign architecture to this plane. Either way, I don’t like it.” Boldwick said.

“Why not take a peek?” Enide asked.

“We have to. Our target could be within it. So we’ll check it, even if it’s just as likely to be some sort of trap. For that reason, as we have so far, we proceed with caution.” Boldwick shook his head. “Keep tight together, walk fast, and keep your eyes peeled.”

They pulled together as they crossed open ground. Enide took advantage of the opportunity, pressing as close as she could to Erec and shooting him smirks when she intentionally bumped into his Armor. Each time, she accompanied it with some variation of, ‘watch where you’re walking tin-can in a whisper. Given the situation, playing around was a questionable choice. But that little bit of tension relief did wonders for him, and with her so near, he felt an uncanny confidence.

It also made getting across the open space to the building easier. Before he knew it, they were under the roof and behind pillars.

Being well-lit and protected from the sky above made it an ideal vantage point. As a group, they crept alongside the exterior of the building, circling it. The only thing present was a plaque written in indecipherable script on the north side. No entrances. Their hopes began to plummet until they returned to the plaque.

On their second visit, the script had morphed into their language.

***

Men died from lack of me; through books, I travel through time, my ideas will grip mortal minds. My existence is a curse and a boon; though ye may deny my use, I am inevitable. Death is the only escape.

Speak my name, and ye may enter.

***

“A riddle? Is this good or bad?” Garin turned to the rest of them.

“I don’t like how it shifted its language nor the contents of this riddle, but the instructions are clear. We puzzle it out, and the entrance will appear.” Boldwick sighed. “Any guesses?”

“Innovation,” Rochester said, flaring his hands out as if he expected something to happen. Everyone tensed, but yet the only response was silence and stillness.

“Courage,” Enide tried, tilting her head. Nothing.

“How in the name of the Goddess could Courage be the answer?” Colin shook his head.

“Never heard a story about a hero? My mother used to read them to me; sitting still in one place too long gets you killed, and you need the courage to move…” She stopped herself. “Why the fuck am I justifying myself to you anyway? Eat sand,” she turned and crossed her arm.

“Typical wastelander, so crass and inept. This is why you needed the nobility of the Knights to attend this expedition, or else you’d be doomed.” Colin shook his head.

“Don’t see you trying. As if you know the answer. It’s a riddle, and I doubt someone as stuck up his ass as you can figure it out.” Enide shot back.

“You’re incorrect. The answer is Knowledge.”

At the utterance of the word, a loud rumbling began in front of them, the brickwork of the building they faced folded in on itself, twisting and levitating as it broke apart to reform into a doorway. Inside was an intense blue light, opening into a large hall.

Everyone slowly turned to Colin, who Erec knew must’ve had the biggest smug smile on his face underneath that helmet. Erec winced; having Colin get one over on you never felt good.

“Behold, filthy wastelander. This is the power of knowledge.”

“No one likes a smartass,” Enide said, for lack of anything else.

“Do you wish for a spar? Perhaps it’s time to teach you how far you fall compared to your betters. Your status will never be my equal, regardless of your pitiful attempts to cozy up to a Count and marry into nobility.”

“Bring it, asshole!” Enide snarled, stepping toward him with clenched fists.