Synopsis- Abridged

((A short synopsis laying the basis for my novel.))

           On the surface, Samuel Haine leads an unremarkable life. In secret however, he is a Librarian, part of an ancient society whose influence lingers hidden, even in modern times. As a Librarian, Sam and those like him are tasked with the ever important role of safeguarding humanity from itself. In his journey to find a place within the Blue Library, Sam is nearly ostracized  for questioning the seemingly arbitrary lines that divide various sects. However, when a new threat emerges among the Libraries, Sam gains a chance to redeem himself. In his attempts to decipher the words and actions of adversaries within and outside of his order, Sam must decide how far he will go in trying to protect his allies and himself from harm.

The War of Knowledge

((Here is a bit lengthy history lesson on the state of the world that Librarians exist in. This is the beginning of the chain of events leading up to the start of A Librarian. ))

In the beginning existed only man and his knowledge. The people knew, and they learned; all that they learned, they recorded in books. These books quickly became their most valuable of things, treasured above all other possessions. These books held the secret keys to life, codes that contained truth, will, existence, and other secrets beyond number.

Selfless members of this society made it their mission to gather all of the books, each and every story, so that everyone could have access to the knowledge. To this end, they created a place where they could keep all of these ideas. This place became known as the First Library. It stood in the center of the people’s society, an offering of knowledge to all who sought it.

Other members of society did not agree with this course of action. They argued that the books and the information that they contained, information born of personal experiences, were to be shared at the sole discretion of their owners. They, out of respect for themselves refused to submit their texts to the First Library, and in respect to those who had given their stories (freely or otherwise) abstained from using that collection of knowledge.

The time came where the people began to become divided by these two separate ideals. Those who believed in the sharing of all knowledge came to be known as ‘The Collaboration.’ Collaborators quickly took to acquiring the stories of other individuals. In some cases, they merely asked for the records they sought. However, where this failed, they gained possession of the tomes  by coercion or other, more forceful methods.

For those who believed in individual choice in sharing their stories, this could not be tolerated. Calling themselves ‘The Selection’, they withdrew from the society, traveling some distance away to erect their own. These Selectors  lived true to their name, deciding to share only what they wished, with whom they wished.  In their society, they established a place known as the Second Library, a keeping grounds for information given only willingly, and shared only with a chosen few, even among members of the Selection.

For a time, there was a truce; the Collaboration would retain control of the knowledge it currently possessed, while the Selection would neither seek to destroy it, nor be forced into further contributions. However, there were those among the Selection who could not abide by this outcome. Chief among them were individuals whom had already lost their own personal records of knowledge at the hands of the Collaboration. These resentful people quickly found support among their brethren, and together, returned to the Collaboration’s society with the intent to claim the First Library’s knowledge for themselves. In the ensuing skirmish, many lives were lost, and even worse, much of the First Library’s most precious information.

The Collaboration, of course retaliated. No longer content to let members of the Selection live in peace, they gathered their armies and swept across the land, capturing Selectors wherever they could be found and extracting all of their knowledge from them. The Collaborators also took to destroying Selection settlements without regard to the displaced populace that remained.

Having been pressed into a corner, members of the Selection came forward proposing another truce- they would share even their most secret information with the First Library and rejoin society as equals, and neither side would engage in harming the other. At this time, the Selectors rallied behind the twins Pelomect: Cagneidu and Oddriser. It was at their command that the Selectors returned to make peace with the Collaboration.

As was true to their custom, and as demonstration of their good will, the Collaboration shared all of the information that yet remained in the First Library. However, when the time came for the Selection to share its information, they refused. Instead, loyalists following Pelomect Oddriser lashed out with the knowledge they had created, combined with the knowledge they had so recently attained. With this combined power, the selectors tore the very foundations of the Collaboration apart, inflicting casualties far greater than previously witnessed by either side.

Seeing what his brother had done, Pelomect Cagneidu whispered just enough secrets of the Selectors to a trusted Collaborator called Counsel so that the Collaboration might have a fighting chance. This war between the Collaboration and the Selection that lasted for many generations, longer than even the previous skirmishes, came to be known as the War of Knowledge.

The War of Knowledge came to an end only when both the Collaborators and the Selectors took notice of the world around them, and how much their fighting had ruined it. While their philosophies differed and hatred from old wounds still burned on both sides, the leaders of both societies came to agree that even if their grudges could not be settled, a war could not take place on a planet that no longer existed. With this in mind, they managed to establish an uneasy peace, one where they agreed only that they would no longer oppose one another in the open or with direct force. To this end, each side sealed away their most potent knowledge. The Collaborators sealed their knowledge within Counsel, and the Selectors placed theirs within the twins Pelomect. Together, they removed themselves from their societies and disappeared into obscurity.

Without the most precious of their information, both sides began to rebuild the world they had so carelessly destroyed. They came to agree that the secrets of the past should remain buried, and to that end, continued to avoid direct conflicts with one another. However, beneath the surface of the world, amidst the generations of humanity that matured without knowledge of their true potential, a select few of the old societies remained, sharing what little ideals they still possessed with any who might unknowingly listen...

Lunette

 ((This piece offers a little insight on Sam, protagonist of A Librarian. As a Librarian, Sam and his order are responsible for safeguarding the knowledge of the world.))

The near silence of the evening died completely. At the same moment, the moonlight in the sky was accompanied by a short flash of blue. To him, the silence was not truly complete, and never would be- he could hear it wailing as it rose from the asphalt. It climbed, slow and even, likely from a place some might call hell- but really, words, even for places of ‘ultimate evil’ were merely labels. He knew that fact now, knew it very well.

Even though the pillars had not an inch of smooth, unmarred wood, the torn and ragged beams did not harm him as he placed a hand to them. It continued on easily enough, reaching in vain for the empty sky above- a sky almost as empty as that in the place from where it hailed. It grew and grew until it towered over him, one of the corners blocking his view of the moon, and thus blocking the only source of natural light.

Then it ceased and remained still, unwavering in the cool air of the night. The whispered wailing ceased as well, dissipating along with the azure flash that had ushered its presence into this world. His world, and yet not his- a world he shared with others. He looked around him now, and the differences between the two did not require much observation to discover- the tall, concrete and steel and glass constructs, the lampposts with their broken bulbs, the paved walkways and roads connecting everything...Nothing like the thinner, more elusive networks within his sanctuary. The pale blue webs that wound everything together behind the scenes, behind the cold stone surface of his walls- they carried everything: information, existence, life.

These streets were empty. Whatever lived here had hurried off into some den or another and shut the door on the shadow. Even when he had been separated, driven numb by the unruly forces within his own domain, he had never felt quite so lonely. Perhaps it was better this way. Here, in the hours before dawn, he could carry out anything; here, before the sun returned to the world once more, he could call it... he had called it, and once before- an insatiable being consuming a soul no less voracious...

The wood beneath them groaned and heaved, and twin oaken shafts shot up into the freezing night air. The pair emerged on either side of the witch, their roots catching hold of one another, entangling her throat in the process. She howled. She thrashed about, clawed at the wood on either side of her. Though her talons carved free great splinters from the posts that bound her, the pillars did not crumble.

He stood up and turned away. Behind him, the tops of each pillar shifted and heaved again, forming branches that joined with one another.  As they intertwined, a split remained along the bottom  of the joined branches, from which a cold steel tongue descended. The metal gleamed in the bleak azure light, and all traces of sound vanished. She opened her mouth in what could only be a scream.

He didn’t look back when the blade fell.

He fell. Slowly, he toppled backwards until he allowed himself to lean on it, the guillotine. Yes, even when it had separated him from his own, it had been there for him- and when he had been vulnerable, it heeded his calls and stuck down his enemies- breaking them to be remade again, whole, incorrupt. He found his eyes wandering up toward the slanted, steel fang that glimmered just barely in the moonlight; even from his position, he could feel his skin prickling in response to the lack of warmth it had ushered in. He did not shiver for the cold alone.

He shut his eyes, and when he opened them, the night seemed a little further away. Eventually, the dawn would renounce the peace he had found on his lonesome.  The aged wood warbled as if in response to his thoughts, and he recalled it shifting , that same, nearly imperceptible shifting occurring the first time he had called it, brought it from his own world to this one upon rune-scrawled tiles and amidst paper-laden walls.

Deafening cries...frenzied thrashing- both accompanied his manifestation as he tore it from his Library. It warbled and twisted, its moans reminiscent of aged, condemned structures. He stared at it. It loomed over him, almost silent now, only the subdued groans of pain breaking the usual unnatural silence that followed his manifestations. In the confinement of the dark chamber, he could not see it entirely-- in fact, only the gleam of its maw-- yet he could feel it so very clearly. His stomach lurched and heaved, and he clasped a hand to his mouth. On his knees, he looked up into the shadows, checking again and again, but there could be no mistake.

He had answers now, answers he had not been willing, not been able to give. He looked up at the guillotine again, studying the patterns in the wood. He’d studied them before, but now, the familiarity with which he saw them moved well beyond that of constant observation. There could be no more denial, no hiding from the reality, not in this world, nor in his own. In his heart, he knew that just as with every stone, every shelf, every book, that the guillotine too was a part of him, perhaps the most sincere part of all....

“Rise,” he whispered. The frame crawled out of the wood, the shafts just over shoulder length apart. This time, no wailing accompanied it as it assembled. A hint of steel gleamed in the light, and he shivered. He placed his hand on one shaft. The wood nearly bit his skin, but he kept his hand upon it, fingers feeling all of the nicks and scars in its surface. “Where did these wounds come from?”

He circled it, taking note of every flaw, every crack, every chip missing. He recalled the battle with Her- even before she had begun to tear at it, the wood had been scarred. Even after she’d attacked it, it had not broken. He took a step back, looking closely at a particularly large crack in one pole...he set his hands on the frame once again, and it shuddered at his touch.

           The sun was beginning to rise. He stood upright, shoving his hands into his pockets. Without word or gesture, the guillotine acknowledged his dismissal, creeping back into the depths of his Library, moving away from the waking world.