Madman's Knowledge

Legend tells of an ancient library, a treasure trove of knowledge, lost to the world in the wake of a near-apocalyptic disaster. This cataclysm, which triggered every natural catastrophe imaginable, left humanity reeling. Six hundred years later, we still struggle to rebuild what was lost. Each race holds theories on what caused these disasters, from enraged gods to prophetic warnings. Wars ravaged the surviving countries, each blaming the other for angering the deities responsible for such devastation. And amidst this chaos, the library of Xuria, a beacon of knowledge, was lost.

So much has been lost to the world, including Xuria, the Holy City of the Gods. It was the first to succumb to the upheaval of the elements, as the legend goes. Fire, not just any fire, but the likes of which defied all attempts to be quelled, rained from the sky. Water vanished in an instant, dirt and sand scattered, and powerful gusts of wind, both natural and artificial, only served to fuel the inferno.

The library had been located deep within the walls of Xuria Castle, home to the illustrious ruling family of that time. Though the ruling family changed every generation, their lineage could always be traced back to one of the Gods of the Pantheon themselves. Whether or not those lineages were true or fabricated was a topic of much debate. That hardly mattered now, as any descendants vanished with their heavenly city.

Countless adventurers and scholars have wasted years, and occasionally their very lives, trying to unearth the fabled tomb of knowledge to no avail. Eventually, the excursions ceased, and their focus turned elsewhere that might yield better – and more realistic – results.

Rather than feel deterred at such a seemingly pointless excursion, I was all the more determined. And with less competition vying for the same treasure, I had no reason to delay longer than necessary, lest another decide to take advantage of the same opportunity.

Entering my forty-sixth year of life, I was nearing the end of my prime and knew it was now or never if I were to journey across the continent to the ruins of Xuria. I had dedicated my life up to this point to the pursuit of knowledge. Whether the topic covered mathematics, science, art, or history, I absorbed every tome I found like a man starving.  I could never say what drove me, yet the pursuit of understanding burned in me brighter than any flame. I had traversed every continent, venturing across untamed lands and into ruins forgotten to all but time in my pursuit.

Regardless of how much I had seen and learned, the thought that such a place as the library of Xuria existed itched at the back of my mind. I often tried to distract myself by chasing other legends in hopes that doing so would satisfy the itch. It did not.

And so, I traveled. I traversed deserts, jungles, and plains. I told no one of my destination, lest word of my intentions incited others to do the same. It seemed the universe itself worked against me as I made my way North. At every turn, I found my journey delayed as some issue or another barred my path.

My first obstacle came in the form of a tavern brawl I happened to come across. Though I had just entered the premises mere moments before, I was singled out as the initiator of the skirmish and arrested by the local authorities. Only after hours of interrogation was I released.

Two days later, I found my path impassable from a river diverted by an overpopulation of beavers. The critters had dammed the river’s outlet from a nearby lake, causing the shorelines to flood and the water to divert to none other than the valley my path led me through. Rather than accept defeat or extend my travels by hiking around the eroded valley, I cinched my pantlegs around the ankles and filled my trousers with rocks. The going was rough, but the weight was enough to keep the current from carrying me away while I trekked across.

I camped along the riverbank that night, too weary to continue. The following morning, I was astonished to find the valley again dry, if not ruined by the water’s passing. I spared only a moment to wonder at the oddness before surmising the beaver’s damn must have been dealt with and moving on.

In the port city of Kather, I sneezed at the fish-laden scent in the air and was promptly accused of carrying yellow fever. I was locked in a sick house with thirty other men and women for two weeks before I convinced my captors that I carried no contagion.

Such odd encounters continued to arise as I traveled North. Try as the universe might, I could not be deterred from my path. I would reach the city of the Gods, even if it took years to do so.

Three months after my escape from Kather, I stood before the crumbling ruins of Xuria. Walls that I was sure once towered above every man now hardly reached my shoulder. Easy were the ancient stones to climb over. The castle's layout was nearly impossible to decipher after centuries of foliage reclaiming the land. Massive marble spires, once grand as they stood sentinel over the Heavenly City, lay now in crumbling ruins.

I spent two months digging through rubble to no avail. Yet fail as I might to find the library, I refused to relent. Too many tales and texts had I read to doubt the library’s existence. It was there, and I was content to spend the remainder of my days searching if that was what it took.

Thankfully, I did not have to suffer endless failure, as it was only another month before I stumbled across something new. And I quite literally stumbled upon it. I had been atop the skeleton of the smallest of watch towers along the castle’s northernmost edge when the tip of my boot, long worn and tearing at the seams, snagged on an upturned brick. I plummeted over the side of the tower. As the ground rushed to meet me, I was certain that my search for the library would meet its end, as I was surely to do the same.

Yet something miraculous happened. Rather than impact the bush-laden earth, I fell through it, for the thick foliage had hidden a tunnel beneath. In darkness, I lay, willing the air to fill my lungs, which had forcefully been pushed from me, when my body finally hit the solid ground. As my vision acclimated to the darkness, I found myself at the mouth of a long, dark tunnel no wider than I was tall. Once I could draw breath with little difficulty, I wasted no time considering the dangers that might lay ahead and plunged forward.

I cannot say for sure how long I traversed the darkness. It could have been hours or days. It had been a stroke of luck that my food supplies had accompanied me on my fall.

At long last – though I couldn’t say exactly how long – I reached the end of the tunnel. I stared in wonder at the tall, ornately carved doors. I could hardly make out the inscriptions lining the surface in the dimness of my lantern, which I had refrained from using until now. Swirling runes ran the ledge of the frame in a language long forgotten. At least, I assumed as much, for I was well versed in every tongue common to man in this age.

Although the runes mean nothing to someone who doesn’t know the language, I spent the next several hours transcribing every glyph from the door frame to my journal, carefully capturing every character as clearly as possible. Satisfied that I’ve done as well as I can, I put my hands on the doors and push.

“Halt,” a deep voice resonates within the tunneled space. I stopped, as the voice had demanded. I don’t continue to push open the door, nor do I drop my arms from the cool surface of the stone. “Persistence does not guarantee yield. Nor does it bypass consent.”

“And to whom should I beg such consent?” I ask, peering into the darkness around me for the source of the voice. The light from my lantern flickers as the hidden entity responds.

“Mine.” My very bones shiver at the power contained in the single word. I drop my arms from the door and move two paces away.

“Then allow me to beg. I am Marun, son of Darath. I have suffered many hardships to stand where I do.”

“I am aware of the tribulations that you speak of, for it was I who placed them upon you.” My fists ball in anger, and I force them to relax.

“For what reasons?”

“You understand not what you seek.”

“It is the library of Xuria that I seek.”

“No, it is treasure. Wealth, fame, and greed drive you, as they drive all those who come to these forgotten halls.”

“Please hear me, Great One,” I plead. “The only wealth I hope to gain is that of knowledge. What must I do to demonstrate my sincerity?” 

The voice was silent. So much so that I wondered if it had deemed me not worthy and left. As I considered restating my request, the voice again spoke.

“What are you willing to give in exchange for admittance?”

I opened my mouth to reply but thought better of it. I was sure a hasty answer would not be appreciated in this situation. So, I considered the entity’s request. What would I be willing to sacrifice? A better question was, what did I have that was worth retaining? My experiences, my deepest thoughts, and the ability to comprehend. Never had I given much consideration to material items besides those which assisted with my studies. I traveled with little more than the clothes upon my back, my journals and writing utensils within my pack, and a few tools to aid in hunting and gathering to keep my body sustained.

The tools, journals, and clothes I could do without, though I might find less comfort. All that left me with was my life. If I could not have my mind, memories, or thoughts, then nothing was left to me. I told the voice as much.

The entity hummed, and I had the impression it was pleased with my answer.

“You may keep your life, for that interests me not,” the voice rumbled.

“Then what is required of me?”

“Liberty. To enter these halls is to relinquish your freedom. The knowledge held within poses a danger too great to be released.”

The voice left me then, allowing me time to consider. To what extent was I willing to go to gain entrance to these ancient – and apparently forbidden – tomes? Just moments ago, I was willing to sacrifice my very life. That seemed a simple risk, as without my life, there would be no desire to know more. What the voice asked me to relinquish now, my freedom was entirely different.

Would I be satisfied to remain here for the rest of my days? Never again to travel the landscape, experience cultures few others had, and learn of ages past? If what the voice claimed was true, which I had no reason to believe otherwise, would I be satisfied turning back? Ever aware of the treasure trove of wealth just outside of reach?

No. I would never find rest until I passed those doors into the ancient halls beyond.

As if sensing my decision, the voice made itself known, asking again what I was willing to sacrifice.

“Liberty.” My answer hung in the air with finality. If the voice said anything more, I failed to notice. On invisible hinges, the massive doors swung outward. Once wide enough for one such as me to pass, they halted. Denying myself the opportunity to reflect on my decision, I entered the ancient library.

The dreams of humankind are a fickle thing. Though logic is defied in every sense, the sporadic and irrational moments spent within the dreamscape make sense in their unique way. This comparison is the closest I can come to aptly explaining the library of Xuria to any not laying their own eyes upon the vast halls.

Twisting columns whose width rival that of the great redwood trees rise from the mist-laden floor into the endless darkness above. Etched into the column's surface are hundreds upon thousands of alcoves filled with various tomes, books, scrolls, and tablets.

Lining the ground floor are shelves stacked upon one another in such a way that shouldn’t make sense yet seem entirely logical. They stand in such imposing rows that I am reminded of soldiers filing into ranks and preparing for battle. Hoovering platforms, some oriented as they should, others upended so that the tops of the shelves are exposed to me. The only odd notion about these platforms is that they do not strike me as strange at all but are as they should be.

I walk the halls, too overwhelmed to know where to begin. I find, quite startlingly, that I am not alone. Others populate the spaces between shelves and the alcoves above. Some that I encounter are human like myself, though most are not like any beings I have encountered before. Towering eldritch beings slide past on tentacle-like appendages. Monstrous creatures on all fours stalk between shelves, their heads low to the ground as though searching for a scent. Thin, spindly humanoids huddled in small groups, their swollen heads bowed as though in prayer. Others are odder, and I still have difficulty comprehending their presence.

Despite the strange and terrifying entities I surround myself with, I feel not afraid but at peace. They pay me no heed, so neither do I to them. With my concerns abated, I begin my dive into the depthless well of knowledge about me.

It is only a matter of time until I understand the reason for such secrecy and security surrounding the library's existence. Time has no meaning in such a place, so I cannot say how long I read, studied, and transcribed before this revelation became apparent. I learned many things during my studies, some of which should be known by no person, human or otherwise. I discovered the existence of realms both similar and different to my own, each containing vastly diverse species, races, and peoples. I learned more about my own world and people than I thought possible, such as the origin of life and existence.

Such things were intriguing in their own right, at least to one such as me, but mundane in the grand scheme. Both fascinating and concerning were the writings focused on the art of elemental manipulation. Given the right circumstances and training, one could wield the very essence of the world. Summon fire, rent the land in pieces, and direct the very currents of the earth’s oceans.

The near-apocalyptic catastrophes that came dangerously close to exterminating life from my realm were suddenly less mysterious and more defined. Should I leave these halls with what I had learned during my time here intact, I could reenact those very calamities. Though I held no such desires, the notion was not lost on me that there might be others who would.

Relinquishing my freedom had seemed a steep – though worthy – sacrifice. With this discovery, I understood the necessity. That such manipulations of the elements were possible and within humanity's reach was a madman’s knowledge.