The Archivist (The Librarian Chronicles Book 2) Read online

  The basement was as big as the library but held lots of doors and storage spaces. This room was completely empty. I had to move a shelf aside to get to the door that led to the room, but it was worth every bruise I received. Jessa had brought pillows and strung up lights to help us relax. I didn’t tell her that it didn’t help me in any way, but she wouldn’t care. She liked the mood it set and I just let it go. What Jessa found relaxing helped me because it kept her quiet. And a quiet Jessa was a good Jessa.

  While there were no windows in the room, it didn’t bother us. We did find pictures to adorn the walls and that seemed to make it less like a prison. I sat at the desk and Jessa plopped down on the bean bag that she bought last week.

  “Are you ready to go yet or do you want to go over what we learned last week?” she asked, thumbing through the notebook she held.

  I sipped the goo and bit back my gag.

  “I think I’m fine,” I said, trying not to throw up. “I just need to find out where he went between 1298 and 1304. I can handle that.” I smiled and Jessa laughed so hard she almost spit out her smoothie.

  “You have kale in your teeth! You can’t go into the book like that! Can you imagine?” She laughed and I couldn’t help but laugh along with her. I liked grossing Jessa out. What she found gross I saw as normal. She wouldn’t dare go outside with a fresh face. God forbid people see Jessa without makeup on. She was a true princess through and through. She even had the tiaras from winning pageants. I blamed her parents for making her the way she was. She had absolutely no confidence in herself, even though she was essentially perfect. Her blonde long hair was always glossy, but that didn’t stop her mom from saying things like; “You need a haircut, your ends are fried” Or my absolute favorite, “Oh Jessa, stop trying to embarrass me and fix your face.” Her father never said things like that but he allowed his wife to say hurtful things, and that was just as bad in my eyes.

  When I first met Jessa at my grandma’s funeral I hated her. Upon first impression, I walked away thinking she was pretentious and rude. She wore a pink dress to a funeral. I mean, who does that?

  Then when I found out she was going to be my protector, I hated her even more. Jessa’s parents were high society and they were involved with my family in dealings with historical artifacts. They didn’t know my ancestors traveled through time, but they knew we were important historians and that we preserved facts. My grandma thought Jessa would be a good match to help me. I thought that she was senile and wrong and that it wasn’t going to work out, but I was wrong. We learned to like each other and then we became best friends. Turns out my grandma was right.

  Jessa was my guide and I need more than just her friendship. While I travel through time she watches over me, keeping me safe. Jessa is also responsible for making sure my clothing is appropriate for the time frame, while also assisting me while I chronicle what I have seen and what experiences I’ve gone through. She keeps notes on all of these things in her guide book, which basically makes her invaluable to me and to the work that I do. In order to travel through time, you must have a guide you can trust, and I trust Jessa with my life.

  The most important research was kept inside the blank pages of a book. Each mission yielded a new book. Once that book was full and our mission complete, it was sealed. I’m a Librarian, but not in the typical sense. I haven’t earned the proper diploma to get such a title. I, along with many others throughout the world, preserve the history of some of the most famous historical figures inside the blank pages of each book we are sent. The Librarians was founded by a famous scientist, Harold Lockhart. Lockhart wrote the formula for time travel in the only thing he had near him when it was fresh in his brain. That book wasn’t empty, it happened to be the history of none other than, Abraham Lincoln. After he wrote the formula, he was whisked away in time and came face to face with Lincoln himself. The talent to travel and record history was never his intention, but after he realized how wrong historians were about the president, he created the group of Librarians. Lockhart put us in charge of libraries and their books. The sect of Librarians were given their jobs and they went to work straight away.

  I myself hope to achieve the goal of working in a library with the official title someday, which is what I’m studying in school. My intention is to host my own library and help archive important time periods through my research as well as artifacts, like my grandma did. Like all the women did who came before her.

  All I know about my job before I travel is who I’m to research. Everything else is learned while I’m inside the book, or in other words, the past.

  I’m forbidden to change history by becoming involved in the past or with my target. But I can become friendly with them and immerse myself in their world. It’s hard not to become part of it. While I’m there I am more than just a girl recording the true history. I become my character fully and truly; as if I really am who I say I am. I’ve been many different people, traveling five separate times into five people’s lives. And each time I go, I’m nervous. It doesn’t take long to fill the pages the Historical Society of Libraries sends me. I’m currently one of the youngest on the East Coast. My job is taken extremely seriously, for I have wanted to do this for a long time. Now that it’s my job, I feel as if I am living the dream.

  How could I not love it? I am a college student full time and on my off days I travel to the past. What is there not to like?

  Jessa would argue that I don’t have a social life, which is true, but I don’t care. I’m social in the past, so that should count for something. I talk to people on campus but I don’t need friends right now, I need to do this job and make my family and late grandma proud.

  “So, did you bring the looser fitting dress this time?” I asked Jessa as I pulled the book from a safe hiding place. She held up a dress with a blue fabric that probably would fit better than the size she made prior. Jessa is handy with costumes. She makes all my clothing and tells her parents it’s for school plays. Which is why we donate them afterward to the drama club. They’re always thankful and it shows up on stage somehow.

  “I took out the waist a bit. Should fit much better this time around.” She handed me the dress and I thoroughly inspected the fabric. It’s perfect. “I had to visit three different fabric shops to find this, you know?”

  “How could I forget? You’ve told me now, let’s see, that makes five times! Jessa, thank you so much. Did I mention how thankful I am?” I rolled my eyes dramatically but really, I was thankful. Everything Jessa does is perfection and I realized every time how right my grandma was about her. As I got dressed Jessa readied my spot so that I could sit comfortably. She spoils me but then she does stuff like buy me kale smoothies. I laughed to myself about how awful it tasted but then realized that she thinks this is what delicious is. She’s so wrong, I feel as if it is my job, as her friend, to show her how wrong she is. Grabbing my stash of chocolate, I dropped it in her lap.

  “No! I will not eat that while you’re inside. No way. I have a date this weekend and my parents would kill me.” She said all this while eyeing the dark chocolate candy bar and I know I’ve set the trap. That kale crap will be in the trash when I get back. Pulling my dark auburn hair back and braiding it into a renaissance fashion prepares me for the actual look of the time period. Once finished, I looked in the mirror and removed all of my kohl liner and lipstick. I only go inside with a bit of rouge on my cheeks and lips. I have to look the part completely.

  “How do I look?” Wearing a dress is the epitome of awful for me but Jessa’s eyes lit up.

  She clapped her hands and said, “Beautiful and very peasant like.” Frowning, I looked down at the blue tartan gown Jessa made me and realized, I did look like a peasant, but that’s all right. I’m not trying to be noticed; the goal is to blend in. I’ve learned Gaelic and Celtic in many different forms, which prepared me for my first visit to medieval Scotland. Their diale
ct was strange at first but it soon became second nature. I hear them and understand them as clearly as I hear my peers and more importantly, I seem like I belong while I am there. Even though I am only a visitor, I feel immersed in Scotland.

  My target, Sir Malcolm Walsh, is not a well-known man in today’s society, but in the fourteenth century, he was a big deal. He fought battles and saved many villages from torment of the English King. My research is to know more about him and where he went for the six years he seemed to drop off the face of the earth, until his capture and death in 1304. I’ve already met him and become involved with his friends. And by involved I mean, I know their faces and they know I am the scullery maid who pops in occasionally. When I enter back in, they don’t question a thing. I can be gone for as long as a week or a month, but I always arrive where I’m needed. The book knows what I need and will deliver me to my destination. The men and Sir Malcolm are always brutes and can sometimes be callous, but never with me. I think that they see me as a naïve girl who is extremely homely looking. While she readied the hem of my dress, I took off my glasses and put in contacts. It’s important that I do not lose them while there. I could see a little bit, but it would be hard.

  “Do you think I look bad?” I asked as Jessa started to inspect the dark chocolate further. She finally graced me with her gaze and said, “No, not bad, but perfect for the, you know, time period. I think that if you were to wear the other dress I made, you would look even better. You should also let your hair down.” She got up and fumbled with my braid until my hair fell across my shoulders. After a few minutes and a tug of my dress to expose my bosom, she handed me the mirror. She’s right! She let my hair down but braided a crown atop my head and added some flowers which were indeed real. My chest was pushed up to the maximum height, because that’s how they did it back then, but I felt all kinds of uncomfortable.

  “Now you look sexy and less peasanty. Gotta show off those tatas girl!”

  I rolled my eyes. “I absolutely loathe it when you call them that.”

  “Which is why I say it. Now,” she said as she handed me the book. “Get going before we run out of time.” She kissed my cheek and I sat down in my spot. Every time I go in, I’m nervous but for some reason, I wasn’t this time. I opened the book to the marked page and pulled out the red ribbon book marker. And before I knew it, I felt a rush and was standing in the middle of a battlefield.

  Two

  I’ve been dropped into some strange places while researching Sir Malcolm, but this really takes the cake. I was surrounded by thousands of dead bodies and maybe some still living. I tried hard not to look at them, but it’s difficult not to want to go to them and help them. While I’m in this world I cannot prevent natural occurrences from taking place or altering the future of anyone. Doing so could mean altering the past.

  The amount of blood that laid across this field was stifling and the stench made it difficult to breathe. I actually felt like puking or perhaps passing out, but I didn’t want to fall on the dead man that lay near me. It was then that I heard something behind me. I wasn’t sure if it was good or bad, or if I could end up laying here bloody and dead with the rest of these Scots, but before I could even determine it, I was scooped up and taken by the waist. The rider atop the horse had me in his clutches and I didn’t wail or cry, I just held on and prayed he wasn’t an Englishmen bent on hurting me or killing me. Or worse.

  Once we crossed the field he gently let me down.

  “Are you okay, lassie?” I silently thanked God and sighed. Answering him in his native tongue I said, “I am. Thank you for helping me. What happened out there?”

  Shaking his head he hopped down from his horse and replied, “Nasty fight that was. We were all lucky to get out of it before we ended up like those poor bastards. God rest their souls.” He looked me over and then down at the bottom of my dress. “Aye lass, you’re clean as a daisy in spring. How did that come about?”

  Thankfully I’ve learned to be quick with my responses, which basically meant I lied really well. “Fell off my horse, I did. Stupid ox got spooked and thankfully I landed on my feet or I would have ruined my garment.”

  “Aye, you’re indeed lucky. I haven’t seen your horse, but we might find him if we ride up to the hillside a bit more. This is no place for you, I assure you.”

  I bashfully smiled and nodded my head. “Where does the hillside lead? I’m afraid I’m lost. I’m supposed to be with Sir Malcolm. I work for him, in the kitchens, and was out for a ride when I got turned around.”

  It’s then that I became caught in my lie, because he delivered a look of mass confusion. “Must have been a long ride, lass. Sir Malcolm has been away for months. What did you say your name was?”

  I never used my real name. Unfortunately for me, Savannah isn’t often used in this time period. In fact, it’s never used in any time period I have visited.

  I actually hated my name and never thought it fit me as a person. It’s more the name of a southern belle like Jessa.

  When I started traveling I decided to reinvent myself and gave myself the name Mollie. It’s Welsh in origin but still means the same as the name intends in Scottish Gaelic. So no one ever doubted it and I never stood out. Having an alias was helpful in any time period, I found, but mostly in this one. Having a name that made you stand out was not what I wanted for my trips.

  “Pleased to meet your acquaintance. My name is Mollie. I’ve been Sir Malcolm’s maid for over a year,” I tell him truthfully. I have been traveling with him through several of his years, but only a few short months of my time. “I went out to retrieve a list of items needed in the kitchens from Iona, she is still the cook isn’t she?” He nodded but said nothing. “I’ve been deterred, that is true. I fell ill during my ride. A lovely lass in town helped me heal. It’s been a long arduous ordeal and I’d like to just go home, if that’s all right with you. Now what did you say your name was?”

  He harrumphed as he now realized that my story may have panned out and he didn’t have the advantage any longer. The men in this time period were so rough around the edges and downright rude to women, and the small feminist side of me wanted to punch him in the nose. I hated how awful they were at times but considered myself very lucky to be in the care of Sir Malcolm and his men. They always made sure no one messed with the women of their houses.

  “I didn’t say my name, but I will now,” he said, full of piss and vinegar, all of a sudden. “Finn O’leary, is my name. And I’ll be taking you to our camp now. So if you don’t mind, lass, I’d like to leave the dead to their dying.”

  I obliged and hopped onto his horse. While he walked, I rode. The view was spectacular and I realized that I missed the Scottish lands so much that I almost began to weep openly. I pulled it together though, because Finn would probably find it odd that I’m crying, but then again us women are nuts, so it might not be too weird. The weather had a chill that began to take hold as we entered the hillside. A low lying fog that appeared out of nowhere began to sweep across the grass and move swiftly over Finn’s feet. Scotland is strange like that. You can be enjoying a sunny day and all of a sudden it downpours on you. I don’t question it until Finn started rushing the horse faster up the hill and away from the fog.

  “Everything okay down there, Finn?” I asked.

  “Mind if I get on with you? I think I can get Frith to go faster that way.”

  He’s scared. Of what, I didn’t know but I don’t ask a thing. Instead, I moved back on Frith, which also means deer forest, and let Finn onto his horse. He kicked the horse and without warning we were hauling up the hillside faster than I expected. Frith is fast for a fat horse who is in desperate need of exercise. They probably don’t take care of their animals at this camp and I wouldn’t be surprised if they rode them until they died and then moved on to another horse.

  The horsemaster should be ashamed. I love ho
rses and to see this animal run like hell out of these woods, makes me worried for it. And a bit for myself too, because why is he running like this.

  “What’s out there?” I dared to ask.

  Finn shook his head and did that grumpy noise in his throat like he did before. “Can’t say. But you should keep quiet, if you value your life.”

  He didn’t have to tell me twice before I shut my mouth and stayed silent. As we crested the top of the hill and cleared the trees in the thick forest, the fog went away and Frith slowed down. Finn patted him and promised loads of oats and water upon our arrival. Arrival to where I wasn’t sure because there was absolutely nothing out here.

  The trees that were so green below were starting to turn orange up here. Another odd thing about this place; two different seasons at once. It’s fall which meant I’ve been gone for three months, at least. I had really hoped I would catch Sir Malcolm before he left to wherever he was going. The whole point was to find out where he was hiding. I can’t give up. There is still a chance someone at his camp will give me the location and I can find him easily enough. I couldn’t help but miss Jessa, even though I’ve only been here for an hour or so. I had just wondered if she ate the candy when I saw it.