The Portal Under The Library

The fae-folk had a decent pact with the old librarian. She allowed them to summon their portal and peruse through human knowledge after hours, until sunrise. In return, they’d procure oddities and trinkets from their world. These curious sprites dubbed her the Gatekeeper; a sentinel between worlds, guarding dusty tomes and tapes of VHS. These Earthly ventures had become bi-monthly privileges until one evening. A mysterious piece of paper had slid through the floorboards. It was both an apology and a warning. It mentioned that the library would be off-limits that week due to some kind of human problem or other. The notice, alongside the Eldar’s declaration, was enough to deter most of the faeries. The well-behaved ones anyhow.

One evening in the old library, under the floorboards, the portal blazed and shimmered like a vertical puddle rippling. It spat out Deshvii, a young and curious faerie, only about eighty or so. He wobbled to his tiny feet and dusted himself off. If not for the blue glow of the portal he’d be nearly invisible in the dark. Faeries' skin tones ranged on a spectrum of light violet to a swarthy navy. Deshvii was the latter, and underneath the neglected floorboards at night, its murkiness absorbed him.

Deshvii tiptoed back towards the humming portal. “Come on, Javii,” he mumbled in fae-folk tongue. “Where are you?”

The portal blurred an afterimage of Nortavii-Hao, the homeworld of all Earthrealm sprites. He leaned towards the azure haze, extending one of three prolonged fingers.

A gargled voice called out from the other end. Then, a monstrous spear whooshed through and plunged the pierced at his feet.

“Move!” a voice howled. Javii somersaulted through the portal, tackling her brother to the ground as a second spear tore through the air above them.

“What in Forest’s Love did you do?” Deshvii screamed.

“Close the portal!” Javii snapped back. “Quickly!” She flipped to her feet while Deshvii fumbled his rucksack for the Nortstone. He hastily flustered out an incantation. Irate voices grew louder and closer. The image in the portal wisped haphazardly as if angry itself.

“Hurry! Mushrooms have soggied faster than you!” Javii pleaded.

“Est orim vei olif hurae!” Deshvii said loudly, and slowly, enunciating properly this time. The Nortstone rattled and flashed. With the ferocity of a lightning clap, the portal shrunk and slurped like an emptying drain. The stone flared and reddened, casting a new light along the passage.

“You certainly took your time!” Javii flung an old crumb at her brother. She stomped back to him in a huff. She was a lighter hue of purple, though her exasperation had flooded her face with a bright, hot orange.

“Me?” gasped Deshvii. “You were right behind me a moment ago! It sounded like you brought the whole village with you!”

Javii looked back to where the portal was, now just the base of a cobwebbed support column.

“Come on, no use whining about it now.” Javii tugged on her brother’s arm. “We’ve got until sunrise.” 

The two silently hopped along. They weren’t more than four inches tall, a slightly above average size among their people. Daytime was far too risky to examine old books. It was very easy to be squashed underfoot, and the hum and flash of the portal might draw eyes as well. Not to mention, the Eldar declared they’d turn to stone at a glimpse of the golden aura of the gods, something to that effect. Deshvii usually paid more attention in Council Class than Javii, which was one imperative note above none at all.

“Deshvii, look!” Javii proudly held out her find; a toothpick. “Maybe there’s another one around here for you. If we are to encounter something hazardous.” She mimicked a monster and marched on.

“Steady on!” Deshvii rushed to catch up. “Should I not be the one to wield that one in the meantime then?” 

“Here,” she tossed it at him. He fumbled and clutched it closely. “Don’t get too cozy with that. I just need both hands for this part.”

The reliable strand of wool hung where it always did, knotted securely to a small gap in the wooden floor above. Javii leaped and gripped it, pulling herself up bit by bit. At the peak, she popped her head out and darted her eyes around.

“That’s odd,” she mused.

“What is? What do you see?” called Deshvii.

“Nothing.” Before her brother could query more, she shoved her hand back down and gestured for him to toss up the toothpick. Once they were both through the hole, Deshvii retrieved the Nortstone again.

“The Gatekeeper usually has that soft glow illuminating from her chambers,” Deshvii wondered.

“Exactly,” Javii scratched her chin. “Call out to the stone again.” She tightened her grip around the toothpick.

Deshvii mumbled another incantation and brought forth the light. It shone far enough to reveal the usual towering rows of tomes. The moon gently poured in through the distant windows, and the arched roof housed many silenced lights. The usual table of the Gatekeeper lay abandoned. No cup of tea. No reading glasses. No warm welcome of a smile and a tale.

“Perhaps this was a foolish idea after all,” murmured Deshvii, walking on as the abandoned table encompassed overhead. 

“Nothing feels the same, not without the lights. . .the Gatekeeper,” he turned about uneasily. “. . .The other fae-folk wandering about with us.”

Javii herself gulped, but then shook her fears free. 

“N-no!” she exclaimed. “We came for our own adventure. To show them that there’s more to Earth and that we’re capable of exploring it. That there’s more to us! They think of us as children. . .” she sulked.

“And all we’ll return to is a scolding, like children, no matter what happens.” Deshvii sighed.

“No!” snapped Javii. “The moment our people even think about danger, we scurry away. We can’t stay in Nortavii-Hao forever! There’s too much out there!” She pointed at the windows, then to the bookshelves, turning an orange hue again. “These tomes attest to it!”

“They’re just stories, sister,” whispered Deshvii, suddenly feeling eyes fall upon him. “Come on, we should leave. I don’t feel welcome.”

A sharp hiss echoed. Deshvii and Javii’s clapped backs together.

“I think you may be right for once, little brother,” Javii muttered. “Back to the wool!”

She bolted and Deshvii stumbled behind. He heard a faint clink behind him, and when the room sank back into total darkness, he knew what it was.

“The Nortstone!” he cried. A second and third hiss echoed down the aisles.

“Leave it!” Javii called back.

“We can’t get back without it!” Deshvii had already turned around. He slid and snatched it up. The enclosing pitter-patter along the floorboards grew urgent.

“Deshvii!” Javii ran back.

“Orif eim ik hae!” shouted Deshvii. A terrific light flared and illuminated four foaming rats, monstrous and red-eyed, shrieking at the burn of the light’s magic.

“Forest’s Love. . .” Javii froze.

“Come on!” Deshvii snatched her wrist and held up the light like a shield in front of them. They dashed for the opening with the dangling wool. Screeching rodents galloped behind them, hissing and howling at the occasional bright flash. 

“Stop!” Javii screamed. She gestured to the hole. Five more rats huddled there, sniffing at the dark with their snouts up.

“There’s not enough magic to get past all of that! They’ll swarm us!” Javii cried in between breaths. She darted her eyes frantically. A sea of curious eyes landed on them. They hissed and scurried forward. The other four from behind were gaining even more ground.

“What do we do?” Deshvii cried, shaking, almost dropping the stone while swishing it around.

Javii’s mind raced. She saw only red eyes and froth-covered fangs.

“Make a portal!” Javii decided, though it sounded like a question.

“What? Here? It won’t take us home from here!” Deshvii snapped, extending the stone at a snarling rodent.

“Just do it!” Javii spat. Deshvii grumbled and muttered a hasty incantation. The floor rattled and rippled. A blue hue tore itself open and whirled with a familiar hum.

“Go!” Deshvii shouted. They phased through it, distorting and toying with space and time. It spat them out near the ceiling. They screamed and soared through the air, tumbling atop a row of books on the top shelf. A screeching rat had seeped through as well.

“Look out!” Deshvii screamed, his head knocking against a hard book cover. Javii blinked and flinched. The incisors of the beast twitched above her. The rat gurgled and its eyes sleepily shut. Javii caught her breath to find the toothpick stuck halfway inside the monster’s maw.

“Drop it, quickly!” Deshvii called. Javii unfroze and freed her hands. The enormous corpse drooped over the book cliff, dragging the weapon with it. The creature splattered below, somewhere in the dark.

“Ha!” Deshvii sighed in disbelief. “You did it!”

“What about you, with that portal? Got us far away from those things!” Javii patted her brother’s shoulder.

“Definitely not a happy coincidence,” Deshvii sighed with a laugh. “I think next time we---”

A door burst open. The rats scurried off, hissing and squeaking.

Javii’s jaw dropped. “Brother,” she whispered, clutching his hand. “What are those things?”

Two mysterious beings the faeries’ had never seen walked into the room. They moved like the humans but were covered head to toe in one material. Instead of a face, they had a singular, oval facade. On their chests shone bright round lights, seemingly attached to them.

“A giant cyclops. . .” Deshvii whispered, tightening the grip on Javii’s hand. He gestured for her to lay flat on the books. They prayed to all their gods that the two cyclops’ didn’t look upwards.

“Can’t believe they gave us the night shift for this place,” one of the creatures muttered.

“Exactly, it’s not like anybody’s here during the day anyway,” another agreed with the same resigned tone.

“Let’s just set ‘em off and bail, we can check on it later. Go grab a beer downtown or something.”

Javii and Deshvii breathed fast, still clutching hands, trying to make heads or tails of the beasts’ intentions. Deshvii slowly raised a finger to his lips and feigned a brave smile. Javii nodded and wiped away a bead of sweat.

“Come on, first one’s over here,” one of the creatures motioned to the wall closest to where the faeries hid.

“What are they doing?” mouthed Deshvii. Javii shrugged and exhaled; concern spread to her quivering lips.

A gaseous sound clicked and puffed. A foul fume emerged and choked the air, spreading wide and far.

“What is that?” Javii mouthed. Deshvii risked a sniff then cursed himself to hold back a cough. He flipped over onto his belly and crawled closer to his sister.

“Poison, like the Hiiroek Geysers,” Deshvii grumbled. They placed their tiny fingers on the books’ edges and leaned forward. They spotted flashes of the cyclops’ chest lights tearing through greenish clouds. It blanketed the floor, swallowing several lower shelves as well.

“It’s spreading everywhere,” Javii gasped. “How are we going to get home?”

They looked to the cloud, and then to the one-eyed beasts. Corner by corner, they freed more of their bizarre toxin. The rodents scuttled beneath them, fearful.

“That should be it. Come on,” one of the giants said. “First round’s on me.”

They headed for the door, slamming it shut.

“Lock it up?” one of them asked.

“Why bother? Who’s gonna rob a fumigated library?” They dispersed into the outside world.

“We’re trapped,” Deshvii barked. “We’ll be here until sunrise! Then it’s the end for us. . .”

Deshvii looked over to her quivering sister. His own fears quietened for a moment; he’d never seen her this way. She was always the one to lift him up from a beating. Something primal stirred in him, seeing her so broken, so petrified. His shoulders began to burn and chaff, as if under immense weight. Then the pain traveled down his spine and across his shoulder blades. He hadn’t realised but he was grinding his teeth, uttering a low wince.

“Deshvii?” Javii’s whispered. Deshvii cried in a gust of plasma. His newly formed wings tore out and spread, tangled and gooey.

“You’ve got your wings!” Javii squealed. “You’re not even a century!”

Deshvii twisted and turned, flexing them like a newly formed limb. Finally, they fluttered, splattering plasma, opening them fully. They glistened, even in the dark, transparent and violet. He wiggled his legs then leaped. He managed to lift off the ground, an inch, before dropping back down.

“Go on, try again!” Javii said, delighted. Deshvii pursed his lips and leaped once more, maintaining a flutter and a hover this time.

“I don’t know if I can carry the two of us,” Deshvii admitted, more concerned than excited. Javii looked down at the menacing vapors below.

“We don’t have another choice,” she swallowed. “If you can get us to the Gatekeeper’s chambers, we could crawl under the door and find a crevice to the Underway.”

They prepped as best they could, testing gliding distances between the books on their shelf, trying the weight of several bookmarks, and eventually, Javii’s weight.

“We can make that distance, brother,” Javii nodded after he set her back down. He rolled his shoulders and rubbed his neck.

“We can,” he stated. “We will.”

He placed his rucksack across Javii’s chest. He then gripped her under his arms and tightened the grip.

“Ready?” he whispered. Javii nodded, clutching his forearms. His wings fluttered with a buzz, then propelled the two of them off of the books. He steadily aimed for a greater height, then slowly descended across the shelves. They traversed two entire shelves and approached the third a little slower.

“Deshvii? Deshvii I’m slipping!” Javii cried. Deshvii dug his fingers in. His virgin wings cramped.

“I’m. . .struggling.” His breaths were sharp.

“Deshvii? You can do it, brother!” Javii cried. “Deshvii?”

She looked up and caught the last glimpse of her brother. His wings fluttered furiously, digging deep into his last fiber of strength.

“Tell them I was strong.” He swung Javii free and his wings dwindled.

“Deshvii?!” Javii landed and tumbled across the floorboards close to the door. Deshvii’s eyes and wings fluttered closed. The violet tinge of his wings snuffed out as he soared through the fog.

“Deshvii!” Javii spluttered, choking on the foul air. She tried to rush back to the aisles, but the vapors stubbornly kept her on her knees.

“D-Deshvii. . .” she cried through burning eyes.

A monstrous hand swooped her up. She flopped to her back, her vision fading. She caught a glimpse of a face, shrouded in a mask. The Gatekeeper had forgotten her keys and returned. She had an inkling the nefarious nature of faeries would overcome her written warning. She’d only wished she’d been nudged by that very inkling sooner.

Javii recovered over several weeks, aided by the librarian. She was allotted the most comfortable of lodging: a desk drawer kitted with silk bedding and an abundance of biscuits. Despite the warnings from the Eldar, the sunrise did nothing but force a curfew for the more notorious among the fae-folk. And Javii had spent several sunrises here. The old woman towered over the drawer one morning.

“You’re awake, little angel,” she smiled. Javii shot up.

“Deshvii?” she called out. The realisation stung.

“I am sorry, little angel.” The Gatekeeper solemnly said.

“I’ve combed many of your tomes, Gatekeeper. Nothing teaches me how to cope with this. . .” Javii teared up, forsaking any notion of healing. “What is the point of any of it?”

“One should never regret the pursuit of knowledge,” the Gatekeeper began. “Loss is probably the most unattainable revenue of knowing.” She lowered herself into her armchair and stirred her tea.

“The solution is not hidden though,” she continued with a warm smile. “The smartest pursuers have searched pointlessly. All we’ve learned over the centuries are suggestions on how to cope and move forward as if we all share the same trauma and mind.” She laughed, and a teary shimmer in her eyes told Javii of the Gatekeeper’s own tragedies.

“But we don’t want to forget it all, do we?” she continued. “We shun the pain and often, the best memories with it. Only through the pain of remembering can we appreciate what we’ve lost.”

Javii welled up. “How?” she simply asked. The Gatekeeper smiled.

“Why don’t you tell me a story about your brother?”