Chapter 3

It was a Monday morning when Martin decided to run away.  He had always had the feeling that young boys often get: that he did not quite belong here, and now he was sure of it.  He couldn’t bear the weight of all the judgmental stares from the other boys.  He was no longer a fellow classmate; he was a pariah.

Martin looked up at the grand bell tower of the Main Hall, stretched majestically up against the morning sky.  Its black tiled point rose up above the rest of the landscape, yearning for the clouds that passed just out of reach.  Martin smiled up at it, understanding its pain. 

The familiar face of the clock read just a few minutes past seven. In less than an hour, the large brass bell would toll for the students, letting them know that, once again, their best efforts to arrive to class on time had failed. 

But Martin would not be around to hear its chimes.  Not today.  Martin nodded and looked past the Main Hall to the rolling wooded hills behind.  He pulled his backpack a little tighter to his shoulder as he took his first step towards freedom.  He had packed everything he would need for his grand escape: two apples, a chocolate milk carton, two pairs of underwear, one change of socks, his pajamas, and an extra shirt.  He had left his ties behind, which was a perfectly acceptable decision. 

If you have ever been forced to wear a tie every day, then you will know that they are perfectly silly things, with no real function other than to choke and get in the way.  An adventurer such as Martin certainly didn’t have time for something as trivial as ties.

As Martin continued walking away from the campus, he began to quicken his pace.  Each stride was longer and more confident than the one before.  By the time he reached the edge of the woods, he was walking with a very nice clip indeed.  He paused momentarily to turn and look back at the campus he had come to call home.

He had left a short note for Markus in the loose brick two down and six over from the door of their dormitory.  I have personally inspected that loose brick and can tell you that the note is no longer there, so Markus must have received it. 

As quickly as he had turned to glance behind, his eyes had flashed forward again.  Except, this time, where the towering trunks of trees had once stood, he found himself staring at the impressive book cases of the Library.  He walked forward, eyes eager with anticipation.  He had just left, and already his adventure had taken a turn for the best.

Martin did not see the Librarian, which puzzled him, but he walked further into the hallowed room.  He wandered into the maze of books, winding his way slowly this way and that, rubbing his hand against the soft bindings of each manuscript.

They all had such fantastic titles, he didn’t know where to start first.  They were arranged in absolutely no discernible order, with Mr. Manahan’s Marvelous Midnight Masquerade next to Armand Schmecker’s Guide to the Boobies of the Coast.  Martin decided that this was probably a book related to the small, blue-footed sea bird and quickly moved on.

As he continued to pick his way through the never-ending twists and turns, he got to books that seemed much older.  The Definitive History of the Shadowlands looked as though it hadn’t been touched in a hundred years. 

Ten minutes passed, or had it been an hour?  Martin realized he wasn’t quite sure.  It dawned on Martin now that he wasn’t entirely sure how to get out.  A slight chill crept through the air, prickling his skin as it came.  Martin turned on his heel and walked back the way he had come.  Left, right, right, straight, left, left again, or was it right?  Down to rows and over four, past the statue of a strange looking man named Galafast - wait.  He hadn’t passed a statue. 

Fear began to take root in Martin’s gut.  He turned around and quickly tried again to retrace his steps.  And then he came to something that he hadn’t seen in since he entered the Library: the wall.  This wall didn’t have stained glass windows, so he assumed it must be the very back of the Library.  How had he managed to find his way back here? 

The wall before him had rows of deeply recessed cubbies, covered in cobwebs.  Curiosity replaced fear and Martin walked straight up to it.  Under every hole was a little, tarnished brass placard.  TURINHOLT one read.  MANSTEN FALLS.  Martin scanned through them until one caught his eye.  GREATER PERCIVALLIAN EMPIRE & SURROUNDING TERRITORIES. 

He had always done fairly well in history, but Martin had never heard of the Greater Percivallian Empire.  Martin brushed aside the cobwebs and looked into the dark abyss.  Slowly he reached his hand in. 

“I’d be careful, if I were you, my boy.”

The voice made Martin jump, howling in fright.  He spun around and quickly took in the Librarian, whose smile had evaporated. 

“You scared me, sir.” Martin looked at the Librarian, disconcerted by his stern appearance.

“You really must be careful.  Books are the best source of magic on this earth, and you open one at your own peril.  You never know when you might get lost in one.”

Martin looked intently at the old man.  But the old man brushed past him, barely meeting his eye.  He reached his arm into the dark cubby, feeling around to what must have been the very back.  He pulled out a package wrapped in an oiled leather cloth.  He handed it to Martin and nodded.  “As it were, this book is a good choice.”

The glinting smile had returned to the old man’s face.  Martin noticed that he was still in the same tweed blazer.  He couldn’t help his curiosity.

“Do you have any other suits, sir?”

The librarian thought for a second before smiling wisely back at Martin.  “My dear boy, laundry day is the most perilous of any day.  I try to put it off for as long as possible.”

Martin was not sure if the answer was completely genuine, but before he could press the issue any further, the Librarian had begun walking back towards the shelves.

“Sir?  One last question.  How do I find my way out of here again?”

“Why it’s quite simple,” the old man replied.  “When you are done, you will leave.  It’s as easy as that.”  The Librarian made to walk away again before turning one last time.  “Good luck.”

With that, the old man disappeared into the shadow of one of the book cases.  Martin turned his attention to the package.  Carefully he untied the twine and unfolded the soft grey cloth.  Inside was an ancient tome, bound in cracked red leather.  The same title was embossed in gold: THE GREATER PERCIVALLIAN EMPIRE AND THE SURROUNDING TERRITORIES.

As Martin opened the cover, a piece of old parchment fell out.  Martin crouched down to pick it up and walked to an overstuffed chair.  He unfolded the parchment, and realized he was looking at a map.  It appeared to be hand-drawn, and showed the outline of a vast Empire.  He began to study the map, becoming more and more engrossed.  He didn’t notice the walls of the library begin to fade until they were hardly there at all. 

All of a sudden, Martin felt a sharp pain in his head.  He was surrounded by a light so bright that he had to squint to make out the book cases.  He tried to call out for the Librarian, but as soon as he opened his mouth, the air rushed out of his lungs, and a weight crushed down on his rib cage.  His last conscious thoughts were of the bell tower he would never see again.

Reviews

[ron s king]

I settled myself down to reading the first chapters of this book, taking my time to become used to the double lines. (Many publishers demand this in a manuscript!) As I read on, I found myself becoming engrossed with the story. At first I thought...'Oh, no; not another Harry Potter.' But as I read on I found it to be better informed and easy to get into. Obviously, there are some issues with the grammar, too many commas (Especially before the word 'And').. But such considerations and editing can be done at the end of the work.
Like myself, you seem to have many viewers and little comment, which is a shame.
Indeed, as a writer, I thoroughly enjoyed what was read and will look out for more of this story. Have you put a copy-write on the work or simply using the dating of this site to prove your work?
Well done, J. D and I will visit again...
Ron.

[J.D. Hawes]

Thanks! I went to a boarding school very similar to the one I'm describing in these opening chapters, so it became quite literally me taking people on a journey to my old school. I try to stay away from harry potter-like descriptions, and try to keep it real, but occasionally there are similarities. As for grammar, I tried to go back and correct my work on some shorter stories as I was writing them, and I found that it is much easier for me to get out all of my thoughts and edit after I've done the creative part instead of trying to reign back in and edit while my head is still in create mode.
I have not thought about copy-writing yet. I didn't think anyone would want to steal it, but I suppose I probably should look into that! Again, thank you for your comment and I will be back after I have more time to go through all of your work more thoroughly!!