Bones In The Jungle

Trees and vines blurred as Agar rushed through the jungle. His feet slapped against the wet ground in a desperate attempt to escape. He ran as fast as he could but feared it would not be enough. A part of him begged to turn and check but the rest of his mind and body assured him this would be a final act. Just keep moving. Agar did not even attempt to think about what direction to move but simply followed the path of least resistance. Maybe a game trail. Maybe a trap. Maybe a pointless route that would lead him back to where he started. No time to think and barely enough to run. As he crested a slight incline in the jungle floor, his foot caught on a root and he fell. The descent was much longer and steeper than the ascent. Tumbling, he crashed through brush, bounced off rocks, and finally landed in a thick muddy pool. Only the Gods knew what this brown goop consisted and he did not have time to figure it out. Pushing himself up clumsily, Agar spotted what looked like the entrance to a cave. Without any other apparent choices, he moved over to the entrance. All of the exertion of his sprint through the warm muggy jungle started to take its toll. Sweat drenched him mixing with mud and blood that covered his face, neck, and forearms. It would have been impossible to know he had light skin and light brown hair. After moving about a hundred feet, he rounded a corner and found himself in what must have once been a doorway. The door was gone but the threshold and stone frame remained. Knowing this could not belong to what chased him, Agar hurried through and hoped to find somewhere to hide. Unfortunately, all he found was a long, straight hallway stretching into the distance. His legs shook and his knees barely bent. Agar did not know how much more running he had left in him. In the otherwise silent hallway, he heard the shuffling of feet on the rock behind him. His stomach dropped, this would be the end, and a horrible end at that. Not knowing what else to do, he hid behind one of the large stone pillars. It felt good to sit down and he decided there that he would not stand up for his slaying. While there was no honor in it, no one would know except for the evil that would bring his death. They would not care as they gutted and hacked him apart.

Warriors who came close to death had told Agar about time slowing in what could have been their last moments but this death seemed to be exceptionally slow. Could his mind have been playing tricks on him? Deciding to peek around the base of the pillar he saw them. A group of seven, with the biggest in front. They stood there with serrated blades and barbed spears, like fishers ready to catch their prey, but none seemed to want to cross the doorway. Green skin with white chests and bellies, the creature looked almost afraid if Agar allowed himself to try to read their minds. Even the idea of fear made them look a bit silly to him, or maybe his wits were just fraying as he neared the end. Standing there in their ragged clothing made from bits of animals and bones, the idea that they would be afraid of anything felt preposterous. One of them still held a disembodied forearm in its offhand. On closer inspection, the bulky gold and emerald ring on the pinky finger allowed Agar to know that Freyed had also met a bitter end or was at least bereft the better part of his right arm. The creatures began to speak to each other in the same harsh language Agar heard during the attack on the caravan. He did not understand the words but whatever it was concluded with them turning around and leaving. Could Agar have found a place so much more dangerous than the jungle that the same murderous beasts who just butchered seventy five armed men were too afraid to venture inside? Gods be good, the end of this hallway must lead into the bowels of the underplane itself.

The hallway did not, in fact, end with condemnation of Agar’s soul. Instead, it turned into an atrium. It seemed odd to Agar that, in the unkempt jungle of the region, this kind of immaculate stonework would be hidden in some dank cave. How could a place like this exist here? A small shaft of line came in through a hole in the roof of the cave but otherwise, it was dark. Agar did not know whether to continue or what other option he might have. The remains of the fountain in the middle of the room trickled out some water though he did not know how clean it would be. His waterskin was largely full but in this hot and humid place that would change quickly. This place did seem relatively cool compared to the outside so at least it would offer refuge in that regard. Going back would not be an option so he decided to push further into the structure. It grew darker and darker until he was plunged into pitch blackness. Not a sound to be heard besides his heartbeat, which seemed to echo down the stone hallway. Agar inched along, hoping that he would not fall. After an extra long eternity, his left toe hit something that sounded awfully like a door. A resounding thump followed the bit of pain from kicking it. Unlike the front door, this one was fully intact and it took all of his weight to get it to budge even a crack. This crack however filled the area around him with teal light. He took a second to turn around and the hallway behind him was the same as the rest. For a second he felt foolish for moving so slowly before remembering that he would have run face first into this door. 

It took quite a bit of effort but, eventually, he made enough of a gap to slip through. Past the door was one of the largest rooms Agar had ever seen. While he did not count himself among the experts in large buildings, he had traveled enough to quite a few architectural feats, but they all paled in comparison to this. From the way it was laid out, the room appeared to be one big library with three levels. Curiosity overtook Agar and he began racing around bookshelves on the top floor. Calling them bookshelves felt disingenuous when describing these ten foot tall stone slabs with cutouts full of books and scrolls. A few of these shelves held more literature than he had seen in his entire life. On the ends of each shelf were torches, though not ones that used fire but instead glowing rock. The only explanation he could come up with for this was magic, not something one was like to run into nowadays. The other side was the same just more shelves. 

Taking a moment to breathe, Agar pulled a random book off the shelf. It turned out to be a compendium of studies on isolated tribes of humans and their behavior. Checking over a few more books, they all seemed to be about the behavior of animals and humans. Agar did not read often, and when he did, it generally consisted of letters and not multi hundred pages books. One of the full shelves alone was probably worth more than all the good in his caravan combined and maybe even the lives of the men as well. Walking towards the center, he peered over the railing to seek the bottom floor. It was filled with reading desks, and in the center stood a stone table, perhaps twenty feet in length.

The second floor was almost identical to the first: a hollowed out rectangle of stone with bookshelves on all the edges. Pursuing some of the books on this floor, Agar noticed they were not about animals but magic. They were odd looking books for the most part with some gilded and covered in gemstones while others looked to be crafted from whatever the author had on hand. One had a cover made of moss nailed to wood. Agar did not get much from these books, as most were written in the old tongue. He could not read it, but collectors would pay good money for undamaged books in the old tongue, so he knew how to spot it. As he was looking around, one book caught his attention. It seemed almost tucked away behind some scrolls. Even through the mess of papers, he could see the pulsing ruby red gem in the center of the book’s front cover. He reached out to grab it but felt an intense fear as his hand neared it. Deciding to be safe rather than sorry as it concerned magic books, he left it alone. Not that he could have opened anyway. The rhombic gem in the center extended out from each point wrapping the book’s lily white pages in tubes of glowing gemstone.

Wanting to see the last floor, he hopped down the stairs. Much of his previous fatigue had faded by this point. Instead of bookshelves, this floor was filled with doors, hopefully leading to an exit. There were a few shelves in the center next to the writing desks and table. All of the books on these shelves were uniform. Each book had the same binding and materials, leading Agar to believe that the denizens of this library were writing the books on this level. Picking at random, he grabbed a book called “On Goblins: Vol. I”. Not knowing what a goblin was, Agar flipped to a random page and opened onto a sketch almost identical to the creatures that attacked the caravan and chased him through the jungle. Putting a name to the creatures did not make them any less terrifying. Agar closed the book and put it in his bag. If he managed to escape this situation, he needed to warn people about what was killing those who ventured into the jungle. As much as he wanted to read what the rest of the books were about, he needed to find a way to get out of the library and back to civilization. 

The first door proved not to be much help, but he did find the bookbinding supplies and parchment. It amazed him how pristine it all looked. If not for its vacancy he, would have assumed scholars and servants were maintaining this library daily. Agar continued opening doors on the bottom floor but none held an exit. As much as this was a library, and perhaps some kind of college, the design also made it feel like a prison. One door revealed living quarters. Privacy must not have been an issue for those who stayed there. All the beds shared the same room with no partitions or even shades for changing. There were thirty as far as he could see. One would not have been able to tell from outside the room but next to the door on the inside was a thick metal drawbar. He left the room as he tried not to think about what they would try to keep out. 

The next few doors also led to living quarters, all looking as undisturbed as the last, with almost all the beds still made. Reaching the middle of the room, Agar looked across and saw a door much like the one that led to the library. It was a heavy looking wood door reinforced with metal. Like the living quarters, it also had a drawbar. In this case, the bar was across the door and would take close to a dozen strong men to move. Hopefully, that was not the only other way out of this place. Getting an eerie feeling just being next to it, Agar decided to keep exploring. Maybe one of these rooms would have a map or layout of the library. He could not imagine this level of construction would not include a sally port or a side passage out. More doors but not much in the way of exits: a kitchen, a pantry, and a writing room but each one of them ended the same way, with an indeterminably thick stone wall. Finally, at the last door, Agar began to be some despair. Nothing led him to believe that this would somehow be an exit and would not, instead, be another set of beds or more books and scrolls. As much as he enjoyed learning, living was his preeminent desire, and having to walk back out the way he came in spelled certain death. Closing his eyes, Agar turned the handle and pushed the door open. Taking in the room, it obviously did not have an exit. Yet, it did not bring the disappointment he expected. Part of that was from the oddities in the room. Full of contraptions and glassware he had never seen Agar was not quite sure what he was even looking at. 

Agar liked to think of himself as well travelled, but this room was a first. Unlike the rest of the library, this one was a mess. Papers and scrolls were strewn across the tables and floors, Agar half expected whoever was using this room to return at any moment. Shuffling through them, he did not see much worth reading. Half of them he did not understand, and the other half did not seem worth the effort. Why would someone use paper to write down what they were eating? More importantly, there was not anything about another way out. Tucked behind some bookcases was a garden, if one could call it that, of mushrooms and lichens. Having explored as much as he could, Agar decided to take a seat in the only chair in the laboratory. What could he do now? The only way out led right to the goblins that massacred his caravan. Maybe they had moved on but he had no way to know. Despite the circumstances, he was not quite ready to gamble his life on it. Looking around the desk, he noticed a scroll tucked between a phial and a large copper vat. Agar unrolled it, 

This phial should be able to sustain one man for ten days. As far as I have tested, this is safe, though I did not consume it for more than ten days at a time. My calculations show that the vat will fill the phial forty times, so it should get you to a year, accounting for spillage. My formula and instructions for brewing are included at the bottom. Hopefully, you entered my library knowing all the relevant facts. If you happened upon this place by accident, I apologize for the predicament I have put you in, but it was necessary to seal the library off from the world. My research and the library should allow the learned mind to escape this place if what we created has not yet been rectified. May the Gods have mercy on your soul.

Agar read the note half a dozen more times before placing it back on the desk. The writing was tighter and smaller as the note concluded. A rush would explain the disarray in this room versus the others.  What did the note mean by “seal”?  The front door was quite heavy but he opened it by himself. 

Getting up from the desk, Agar journeyed back to the entrance. Slowly jogging up the flights of stairs, he started moving faster and faster until he made it to the door. Still cracked slightly open, he slipped through the gap and proceeded down the long hallway to the cave. It was easier this time with the light from the library seeping through. By the end, he was almost sprinting, but he did not know why. Reaching the threshold from the hallway to the cave, he found it blocked by a wall of light. The wall was the same teal color as the rock torches, Agar could no longer see through to the cave. Placing his hand against the light wall, it felt as sturdy as the rock around it and began growing hot as he let his hand linger. So that was it, Agar thought to himself. He started back towards the library. Maybe he should have let the goblins kill him. Bones out there or bones in here, it did not make a difference.