Such is fate, that we can only run for so long before it catches up to us. The spine of each book, bound in beautiful leather, sliding past my fingers. I pulled away as to avoid sullying the tomes with blood.
“It has to be one of these!” A machete rapped against the shelves. “Keep looking! Try that big one…”
I felt myself lifted, the heavy volume thrust into my hands. I struggled under the weight, someone next to me turned the pages to the end of the book. “What’s it say? Did you figure it out?”
“The size doesn’t determine the length of the life lived, immortality won’t be so easy to find. I’ve told you over-“ A fist slammed into my face.
“One of these fucking things has the secret. You’re going to find it for us or die trying.”
They released my body, I slumped back to the ground. Inevitably these books contained a similar situation, the conundrum of mortals seeking immortality from someone who couldn’t give it to them. Lifetime after lifetime, volume after volume, yet no answers could ever be found.
The mercenaries started amassing a pile of books nearby, the largest they could find. “I told you, the books are only longer due to the details of the life within. A very long, boring life would be a small one, but an adventurous short life could be tenfold the size.”
My words fell on deaf ears. They propped me up against the shelf, which itself was formed by a living tree. The branches carefully pruned to form a support for the books. A literal forest of books, a library of biographies in organic, but neat rows. The echoes of the men rifling through the rows sounded off the high ceiling of the cave.
I looked up to the only source of light, a pair of striking circles at the center of the cavern. Like eyes watching over the peace and serenity of this sacred place, witnessing it defiled by the chaos. The greed for more life to live, driving men mad. Not a single one of them stopped to look at themselves in the mirrors scattering the sunlight around, just careening from row to row, searching for who knows what.
More books shoved in front of me, each time flipping to the end. Each time trying to find the secret that only I could read. It wasn’t so much that the language on the pages couldn’t be interpreted, it’s that only my mind could see the contents. Text in ancient runes, intricate illustrations of unbelievable events, tenderly rendered portraits of past loves.
The pile grew, the disregard for their age wounded me more than the men ever could. I saw the end of a hundred lifetimes, shoved in front of me in quick succession, one even matched this very moment. Eerily similar. I couldn’t help but chuckle.
A cold voice boomed over the cacophony. “What made you laugh? What could possibly amuse you, here at the end of your pitiful life.”
I wiped the blood from my brow, one of my eyes swelling shut from the abuse, but I could still make out the architect of my demise. The statuesque build of royalty, with the bravado and self-importance to match. “Could it be that the secret is in this pile? Could it be that you’re simply hiding it from us?”
The duke spun on his heel, I was grateful not to have to see his smug expression. A flick, a click, and a flicker of flame. He turned around again, cigar lit. He inhaled deeply, the cherry illuminated our faces as he leaned in close. The mirth in his eyes… like looking at a predator before the killing blow. He hesitated. The smoke poured from his nostrils as he pulled away.
He grabbed the cigar, using the same hand to wave on some men behind me. “Perhaps we can offer a simple process of elimination. Maybe you need, let’s say, a fire beneath you…”
Gasoline canisters were brought forward, emptied on the pile of books they’d already shown me. No. My legacy. My lives. My history.
“Please… please don’t do this. I don’t know where it is. I don’t know the volume, the page, but if you give me more time-“
“No more time for you. Whatever your secret is we’ll have to extract it from the next ‘you’. Maybe they’ll be more forthcoming.”
“Please, you don’t understand. If you burn tho-“
“I understand perfectly well. When you die a new book accounting for your life appears in your place. You’re born somewhere new, called to this… place, and read from your voluminous history. Only you, with all this knowledge. Well, minus a bit now.” He callously waved the hand with the cigar at the dripping books. “Unless you tell me how this all began. I can wait here until your successor comes… or you can tell me now how you were given this power and I’ll spare all those precious little lives.”
“I DON’T KNOW! I’ve NEVER known!” I shouted with the last bit of strength. “I’d tell you if I knew, I really would, but I’ve only been the lucky recipient of this… this ‘gift,’ rather than earning it or achieving it.”
The moment hung in the still air. The men had gathered around, some still holding dense books, others just stared at the covers. They couldn’t see the titles, the dates of lives lived. The leather that bound those pages, the literal skin of those who came before me. I shuddered at the cruel touch of their calloused hands. “Whatever blessing or curse this is, it’s not mine to share.”
“Then it will be your fate to watch it burn.” The duke took another drag from the cigar. Clouds moved overhead, the space darkened. In the span of that very breath the cave fell inky black. The orange glow on the face of a madman was all that could be seen. His smirk melted away. Hands fumbling for flashlights all around, but before they reached a single switch the holes above beamed light down.
The duke lifted an arm to shield himself from the intensity of the beams. Two still columns of white, then, like searchlights, they moved in unison and fixed on the same point. First, the back wall, a tall tree at the north end of the cave that had fed off the sunlight and grew tall. Then down the first rows of books, leaves became more verdant, blossoms bursts under the illumination. The beams fixed on a mercenary, who had attempted to hide from the light, suddenly dropped to the ground. Empty of life, like control had been wrested from his mind. Simply a pile of limbs, dropped on the ground unceremoniously.
Then the panic set in. The hired hands were running, scattering. Flashlights waved around, converging on the exit. Or rather, where the exit once was.
Eerily similar, I thought. The duke was shouting at the men, but couldn’t maintain control. The two beams of dazzling light found another man while he was running, toppling forward like a marionette whose strings were suddenly cut. It was almost comical. I couldn’t help but chuckle.
The clamor ensued for what felt like minutes, though it couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds. Just like I saw on the pages before. The guardian of the library, something as ancient as my very soul, watched over this sanctuary. I would’ve appreciated that it had interceded earlier, but I always loved a bit of drama.
The last few men, duke included, were now cowering behind a particularly full trunk, supporting packed shelves. The angle just so that no light could reach them, but they also couldn’t move. The beams met on a mirror, trying to reflect to where the group was hidden. A sliver of the light hit one of the men, his eyes went blank, the mercenary facing him shrieked and grabbed him before he could fall, holding the limp body up as a shield.
I slowly stood to my feet, aided in part by the tree trunk. I shambled over to the gasoline-soaked books. I knew every one, a secret I didn’t share with the looters. Each book engraved in my memory, a string of consciousness interwoven into my own mind.
To lose even one of these could have ended the line of succession, to have lost them all would’ve doomed me. Rather, doomed “us”. It was hard not to conceptualize myself as an amalgamation rather than a single continuous entity. A confederation of collected knowledge, the wisdom of generations encapsulated into one mind.
I walked by the shouting and begging throng, loud pleas to stop the guardian’s light. The beams were growing more frantic in their effort to reach the thieves in the shadows. The trail of blood offered more options for reflection, though not at angles to let the guardian purge the remaining few.
Finally, I reached the northern tree. A tall mirror, framed in ornate wood, stood amongst the immense roots. When first I’d come to this sanctum I’d stand before this mirror to remind myself who I was after connecting to the memories of all those previous lifetimes.
Now, I saw my battered body, frail and bloodied. What a sorry state I was in. I turned, following the path of the roots beneath me, watching them flow into the trunks of the shelves.
It was too late for a grand gesture, it was already nearing my time to go even before the duke had found me. So instead, I sat down next to the mirror as the guardian turned its gaze on me. Blinding me for a moment, then it moved to the mirror as I laid my hand on the lovely woodwork. Again, mourning the blood I was leaving behind.
I shifted the mirror, the beam wavering around the space, casting light in crevices that had only ever known shadows for a thousand years. The screams intensified. I gripped harder, another subtle change. A mercenary tried to dodge the incoming beam, only for it to leave the reflection and swing directly to him. His body hadn’t even hit the floor before the light was back to the mirror, in anticipation of a clean sweep.
A final jerk of the frame loosed it from the stand. The light caught most of the remaining few, but the duke and a pair of men remained. A death grip on both their collars, positioning them like shields. The mirror teetered for a moment, casting the beams without intention before shattering.
I mustered enough strength to kick the frame from where it fell, just enough to get to the shards beneath. Retrieving the largest piece I could feel while garnering a few gashes along the way.
The duke begged for forgiveness, the other two pleaded for mercy. Following orders, just a job, blah blah. What a mess. I didn’t want to kill anyone, but this was a literal life or death situation for me. For us. I mean, I’m not going to live through this, but I can’t risk leaving this legacy in the hands of these looters.
My grip slipping, arm shaking, I raised the mirror. The guardian’s beam focused into a thin cone of light, first directed to the man on the left. The screams intensified again. The man on the right. I was trying to be careful to leave the duke for last. Not that I’d endure much longer than him, but I wanted to see his face when I uttered my final words.
“I never knew. I wasn’t lying. But it’s not something we can share. It’s not something I know how to recreate. No torture or bribe could ever get it out of me, because it wasn’t mine to give. Yet you just had to try, for your own selfish gain, for your own precious life.”
The duke mumbled some half-hearted response. What a chore. Forcing me to relive my final moments over and over in hopes that the secret was somehow revealed at the end. No ceremony of succession. No incantations. No, just the same thing. Over and over. I could feel it happening now.
My control over the weaponized reflection was failing. I offered one last sweeping motion. The duke fell like a ragdoll atop a pile of disused toys.
I’m sorry to offer such a bleak finish to my otherwise positive life. I’m sure the decades of joyful exploration and adventure will offer little solace when it comes to such a calamitous ending. Decades of sharing my wisdom. A lifetime spent in service to a better world. Each action an effort to build a future worth living in. Yet, here I am.
I hope our next lifetime we share has a more natural ending.
What a wild way to introduce myself to you, a tome at the base of an immortal tree. Sorry for the mess. Don’t forget to thank the guardian for all its help.
Just had an idea for a story that I wanted to write out. What if immortality wasn’t a matter of one life lasting all eternity, but rather one set of knowledge being imbued into and expanded upon, one life at a time. Is this not already how things are? Is real immortality just the stories we share and whose memory lasts after we’re no longer here?
Mike Lightheart 