Now, as wave of nausea hit Claire, she thought maybe she should've stayed behind, too.
No, can't let Maria do this alone. She's more than my best friend—she's family, Claire thought to herself as she, Tabby, Salem, and Agnes were lifted into the Light Elves’ castle. Going by way of portal wasn’t the best form of traveling, but she decided it was much better than floating toward an invisible castle.
Yep, that’s right, Claire—invisible, she thought. So weird.
There they met an Elf, a real, live Light Elf named E’olin. Claire thought he was quite attractive until Salem commented that the Elf had been around for hundreds of years.
Never thought I’d wanna get with an Elf…especially one so…old.
But the real thrill of it all wasn’t the handsome Light Elf or his equally beautiful friends; it was the fact that the castle was invisible.
Tabby and Claire stood in a room that had been nonexistent, staring up at the high-vaulted ceilings, gawking like two nerds at their first Comic-Con.
“No time to gawk, ladies,” Salem said. “Time is short.”
That it was, Claire knew.
She snapped out of it and nudged Tabby with her elbow. “Your mouth is hanging down to the floor. Might wanna close it before some weird alien bug flies inside and plants a tree in your stomach or something.”
Tabby arched an eyebrow. “That’s…oddly specific. Have you been writing stories again?”
Claire shrugged as Agnes and Salem walked past her to the corner of the room.
Stairs manifested out of nothingness, and the wizard and witch took them first while the girls followed behind.
“I might be,” Claire mused. “How does that plot sound?”
“Gruesome.”
“Oh, you know me so well.”
Once they reached the top of the staircase, both girls fought strong feelings of vertigo.
“Come on, you two,” Salem urged. “To the library we go.”
The reason they were at the library was to look for maps of Oriceran—more detailed ones that showed every charted village, big and small, from the ruins of Dominion to their destination: Ashbourne.
Neither Salem nor Agnes had ever been there. Salem had thought he’d heard of it once long ago, having heard the legend of the Rogue Dragons, and learning where one—Odarth the Bright— fell, but the town had gone by a different name back then, one he couldn’t remember.
A Gnome greeted them at the library’s entrance. He wore no hat or flower.
Salem cocked his head. Always the blunt one of Senior Citizen Magic Brigade, Salem asked, “Greetings, my Gnome friend. Where’s your hat and flower this fine night?”
The Gnome scowled, his upper lip rising to bare his teeth. “Long story, friend. And not a happy one.”
A smell radiated off of the Gnome, rank and cloying. Salem and Agnes turned their heads slightly to avoid the smell as politely as possible—but Claire, unaware of what politeness was in any world, burst out, “Dog pee? Is that dog pee, I smell? Yuck!”
“Claire,” Salem hissed.
Claire looked at him wide-eyed. “What? I mean, it’s kind of nice; reminds me of home and stuff. Are there dogs here?”
Now the Gnome was red-faced, and it was Tabby’s turn to elbow Claire.
“Ow!”
“Can it,” Tabby hissed.
“What?”
The Gnome sighed. “I see you’re not from here.” He looked at Agnes and Salem like a disappointed parent. “I suppose you two already know the consequences of bringing an Earthling to Oriceran?”
“Checked it with the royal family,” Salem lied.
“I’m sure you have. No matter; it’s not my business. I am just a librarian, not the border patrol,” the Gnome said.
“Border patrol! Hey, we have that in America,” Claire said.
“Keep your voice down, child,” Agnes interrupted.
“Yes, please, I am not in the finest of moods,” the Gnome said. “I’ve already had a hand in banning someone from the library; I do not want to do it again.”
“Do tell, my friend,” Salem prompted.
Dog urine? Banning? He had a hunch already.
“Not to mention the old wizard who tried to bribe one of my compatriots with fake currency. You’d think he would know it’s in a Gnome’s DNA to never spill our secrets.”
Salem chuckled and leaned toward Agnes. “Sounds like Ignatius. Kooky old man, always thinking he can do the impossible. Gotta say, I admire him for it.”
Agnes smiled and urged the Gnome to go on.
The Gnome did, relaying a story about a young woman, an old wizard, and an Earth creature known, according to his books, as a Bloodhound. The Bloodhound had an unhealthy obsession with the Gnomes, wanting to prove his dominance after being frightened by one of the grumpier librarians. He had hopped up on their circulation desk and lifted his leg, bathing the unlucky Gnomes in his urine.
“Sounds like Sherlock,” Claire agreed. “On behalf of his antics, we’re sorry.”
“Yes,” Salem echoed, “we are most sorry.”
“No matter. It beats having Centaurs roaming the stacks, I suppose.”
Salem had seen a Centaur upon first arriving in the library. The beast clung to the shadows, but it was hard for one such as him to go unnoticed.
If this little fellow only knew…Oh, well, not my job to tell him. And what’s so wrong with a Centaur trying to gain a little knowledge? Nothing at all, Salem thought.
“We need to look at some maps,” Agnes said. “Could you direct us, please?”
To her right, Claire and Tabby had wandered off. They were examining the large, dusty, leather-bound books on a nearby shelf.
Tabby yelled and jumped back, falling into Claire. “Did you see that?”
“What?” Claire asked.
“Those eyes! There’s, like, some bird creature in there!”
The Gnome sighed and shook his head.
“That’d be the Raffins, girls,” Salem said. “They won’t bother you unless you bother them, and gods forbid you ever give them food.”
The Gnome put on his best fake smile—which wasn’t very good at all—and said, “Come. The maps are right this way.”
Another room manifested itself out of nowhere.
Claire and Tabby stared at their surroundings with their mouths gaping. Neither
