The Library (The Librarian of Alexandria Book 1) Casey White (classic books for 13 year olds txt) 📖

A shape ran down one of the aisles, swathed in dark fabric - Leon.  Owl saw his frame jerk as his friend caught sight of him.  Leon sprinted over before Owl could say a word.

“O-Owl,” Leon panted.  “Look.  I...I did my best.  They-”

“Did they cast?” Owl interrupted.

Leon shook his head, his hair flying every which way.  “N-No.  No.”  A tiny, proud grin blossomed on his face.  “I handled that.  No problem.”

“Awesome,” Owl said, squeezing Leon’s shoulder.  “That’s great.  I can’t tell you how much I-”

“But they’re a mess,” Leon said, crows’ feet appearing at the corners of his eyes.  “I’m- I can’t do anything, not when I’m...me.  But they’re going to-”

Laughter boomed across the Library.  Leon stopped - and together, both him and Owl looked up.  Somewhere in the wing, Alan and Dylan were having a great time.

“I’ll get it,” Owl said, stepping away.  “All good.  Thanks, Leon.”

“They’re- They’re in a mood,” Leon said, stumbling after him.  “And they’re still- They haven’t given up.  Be careful, Owl.”

“I will,” Owl said, but a hint of unease washed over him.  Under the hem of his hood, Leon looked...worried.

Whatever it was, he’d handle it.  Turning away, he hurried into the shelves.

If there was a silver lining for the whole situation, it was that the two scholars were easy enough to follow.  Their chatter and jeers drifted from row to row, echoing behind the pair.  Owl sped closer and closer, tracking them relentlessly.  And the closer he got, the more it became apparent what Leon had meant.

He’d thought their words were unintelligible because of the distance.  But as he wore down the gap between them, the truth became clear in their slurred words and raucous laughter.

The final rack fell away - and Owl saw them at last.  Alan and Dylan stumbled up one of the aisles, meandering this way and that.  Dylan clutched a candelabra he must’ve taken off one of the tables.  Owl’s heart sank.  A bottle hung from his other hand.  The one left in the study hadn’t been their first, then.

“I’m...I’m tellin’ you,” Alan mumbled.  “I’m no fool.  I’m not-”

“I believe you,” Dylan said, his laughter building.  “Really, I...I do.  Y-Yep.”  He swooped in, ready to give Alan a consoling pat on the shoulder, but his friend pushed him away.  He staggered, collecting himself.  “Rude.  See...If it was real, thas’ kinda a big deal, yeah?  It’d be sweet.”  He grinned, drawing the candles closer and spreading his fingers wide about them.  “I could just do this, an’, an’ I’d-”

Owl’s steps increased in urgency.  He could see them, yes - but in a damn wing this big, seeing them was only half the battle.  He sucked in a lungful of air, opening his mouth to call, and-

And saw Dylan stumble, one foot catching on the edge of a shelf.  He saw the man start to topple.

He saw the flames bursting out from around his fingertips, billowing off the tops of the candles.  They licked at Dylan’s hand - and at Alan, suddenly back in the line of fire as Dylan tumbled in an ungainly heap.

Alan’s cries split the quiet as Dylan slammed into him - and the fires caught in an instant.

Owl was at a full run by then, one hand snapping up and a wordless cry ripping from his throat.

None of it helped as Alan threw himself backward, roaring in pain and terror and tearing at his shirt.

His shoulder blades slammed into the shelf behind him.

The screech of wood shifting rose under his cries, a painfully-brief warning of the chaos unfolding around them.  The flames danced behind him, limning the books in gold and red.

Owl gaped, his fingers spread and his mind a blurred haze of panic.  Too fast.  It was all too fast, and he was too damn far.  There was just too much.

His mind lashed out, holding onto the scene around them for a single, passing moment.

And then it broke, and the sound of Alan’s bellows fell away as the bookshelf careened down into its neighbor.

- Chapter Twenty-Four -

Owl froze, one hand outstretched.  His eyes spread wide, hidden behind their mask.  The world slowed, the perfect opposite of the heart that thundered in his chest.

Alan thrashed, still smouldering.  Still burning.  Even as Owl watched, he lurched, overbalancing.

The bookshelf behind him wasn't there to catch him.  He went over backwards, the fires clinging to his sweater tumbling down with him.

Books are not flammable.  The thought rang through Owl's head, his silent amusement every time he watched this or that film.  There's no airflow.  It's not that dangerous.

So he thought - and it might have been true.  But the books were ancient, artfully treated with who knows what.  Before Owl's wide, aghast eyes, he saw the flames spread with every bat of Alan's arms.

With a tremendous boom, another shelf collapsed.  And then another.

"Move," a woman whispered, right in his ear.

Owl moved.  He surged forward, his eyes flashing back and forth between his smoking, fire-riddled guest and the bookshelves toppling one after another.  Two battles - and only one of him.

In the end, the decision was made for him.  Alan bellowed, the sound laced with agony, and what little hesitation Owl had had vanished.  With the ball of his foot braced against the ground, he lunged, calling up his magic with the motion.

He felt the air around him swell, catching and tugging at his jacket.  In an instant he was aloft, the step carrying him across the gap and farther than any one step should have had a right to.  One hand outstretched, he shot toward Alan.

No sooner had his feet touched the ground again, right by Alan's side, than he burst into motion.  One hand jabbed toward the ceiling, the fingers pressed together like a knife.  He jerked his elbow, spinning his hand in an ungainly spiral.  Right here.

Alan's bare hands batted at the cinders burning on his sleeves, fighting to extinguish them.  The whole section of shelf was starting to smoke, though, the flames carried