The Sorceress's Mask

By Susan Lombardi

When Violet the Librarian finds out someone is borrowing books without a library card she starts to investigate.
It turns out the person borrowing the books illegally is actually an elf.
An elf that loves books as much as she does.
An elf that gets kidnapped.
An elf that needs her help.
This leads to high fantasy adventure and the an attempted rescue.
What is the secret behind the Sorceress's Masks?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ross Lombardi
• Release date: Apr 13, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458096845

Susan Lombardi

Wife and MotherSusan Lombardi is interested in period costume and history.She has a long list of creative gifts to long to mention.Ross Lombardi is VERY lucky to be her husband.

Book preview

THE SORCERESS’S MASK

BY SUSAN LOMBARDI

Copyright 2011 Susan Lombardi

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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CHAPTER ONE.

THE LIBRARIAN.

Mist swirls in the air, a darker swirl becomes more distinct, it grows bigger, darker. The ground vibrates, a muffled thumping is heard. As the dark swirl becomes more distinct, legs appear, four legs, galloping, a muffled snort is heard. A black horse emerges suddenly from the mist, it tosses its head, eyes wild, steam snorting from its nostrils. There is a man on its back, enveloped in a black cloak swirling out behind him, his face is hidden behind a black cloth wrapped around his head. Only his piercing blue eyes can be seen, which are boring into hers as horse and rider thunder straight towards her.

Violet opens her eyes with a start, the image still imprinted on her retinas. She still sees mist swirling around her bedroom, as it recedes she looks around her room, in the pale golden morning light. The lavender painted wall she is facing has her green mask with the peacock feathers on. She glances across to the window, yes daylight is shining through the purple and blue sari strung across the window acting as curtains. She glances around the rest of the room, colourful clothes are flung over mis-matched junk shop chairs and drawers along with an assortment of miss-matched objects, little sparkly boxes, statues of Buddha, leaves, stones, glitter, all in amongst stacks of books. Everything as normal. Nothing has been moved or touched since she collapsed into bed late last night.

As the last vestiges of the dream leave her Violet crawls out of bed stretches as high as she can reaching to the sky with her fingertips as she faces the rising sun. She wanders into her living / dining / kitchen room, which makes her bedroom seem tidy and uncluttered. Everywhere are books, some open, drawings, pages of notes, more sparkly oddments, crystals, the walls covered with a mixture of pictures and paintings, some prints of Klimt, Monet, Da Vinci, some original paintings of obscure artists. It has the air of a magpie’s hoard. Violet goes to the kitchen area and lights the gas under the kettle. She pulls some leaves from a plant sat on the windowsill and a minty smell is released as she crushes them and puts them into a teapot. When the water has boiled she makes her cup of tea and takes it and an apple to a large cushion on the floor. She picks up one of the open books. It is an old leather-bound volume of ‘Jude the Obscure’ she turns the pages quickly, her eyes scanning straight down the page, taking in every word. Her colleagues cannot believe she can read this fast and still be able to answer questions correctly about what she has just read. When she reads in public, while having tea in a café, she notices people stare, but she finds nothing unusual in what she can do, that is just how she reads and has always done.

After her breakfast she showers and pulling clothes out of the wardrobe at random she gets dressed and puts on her make-up and does her hair, which whatever she does to it always goes into big blonde curls framing her face. She looks in the full-length mirror inside the wardrobe before she leaves for work. She is wearing a pink t-shirt with a vintage design on, a pleated pale blue skirt with a turquoise cardigan over the top with a pearl brooch pinned to it. She has the same colours painted on her eyes and mouth.

I am an intelligent, strong woman, she says to herself in a confident voice, which tails off as she finishes with but why do I always have to look like such a flake? She shrugs and turns away from the mirror and leaves her flat. She pauses on the doorstep and lets a breeze blow through her hair. She looks up at the blue sky, feels a slight nip in the air and notices the leaves of the trees in the park opposite her flat, just starting to get a yellow tinge to the edges. She can almost catch a whiff of wood smoke and hot chestnuts on the wind.

She sets off along the row of Victorian terrace houses, now all converted to flats to walk to work. She gets to the town’s medieval wall and proceeds to walk along it, overlooking the park and back gardens. She peers into the back gardens of the houses along the wall, this early in the morning no one is in them, just the odd cat returning from its night-time adventures and the odd swing gently swaying in the breeze. Violet likes the quietness of the early morning, this desertion of places, which within a few hours will be busy and noisy. She leaves the wall and continues through the town walking through a maze of twisting alleyways between ancient buildings of many ages, the arrangement of them left to history. She knows the paths of this town by instinct, she can walk them in the dark, knowing where to go and where she is by the feel of what is beneath her feet, whether cobbles, flagstones, paving slabs, as well as by the silhouettes of the buildings against the sky, many tall spires and towers.

Violet arrives at a small gate cut into an old thick wall, she opens it with difficulty, the hinges old and rusty. She walks through closing it behind her and proceeds towards the collection of old and stately buildings before her, which are ringed by the wall and surrounded by grass with occasional trees. She makes her way to a large building with many tall windows and walks past a large ornate door with the words University Library above them. She turns the corner and comes to a smaller door and taking a bunch of keys out of her bag she opens it and enters, locking it behind her.

Violet likes to get to work early before anyone else, she likes the library best when it only contains herself and its proper inhabitants. She walks into the main room of the library it is three storeys high in the centre surrounded by galleries with spiral staircases reaching up to them. Row upon row of books tower up above her. She takes a deep breath as she enters the room and releases it with a sigh, a small smile on her lips. She goes towards the centre of the room the back of her hand brushing a row of books lovingly. When she reaches the centre, she looks up at all the books around her and spins around to take them all in. When it is so quiet in the library she can almost hear the books fluttering to each other. She goes to her favourite section first, the classics, many of them are also very old and beautifully bound in leather. This area of the library has more of a musty smell than the rest, but it is overlaid with the tang of leather. She lovingly takes a thick book off the shelf, bound in dark red leather, with some gold overlay still visible on the cover. She strokes the cover, feeling the texture of the leather and the indentations of the decoration, she closes her eyes, raises the book to her face and inhales deeply, smelling the leather, she holds it briefly to her chest and then gently returns it to its position on the shelf, brushing the spine as she does so. The title reads Machiavelli. The Prince. She glances over the rest of the shelves to check all the books are in the right place. She hates it whenever anybody takes away these books, she always tries to persuade them to take a modern copy of the book if possible and if not she gives them a stern lecture about how old the book is and how it should be treated with respect. Even though she knows they have usually been so well made of such good quality materials that they take far more battering than modern books. However, her stern lectures don’t really have the right impact when delivered by a blue-eyed young girl with curly blonde hair and a pleasant voice. She has tried so hard to make her voice deeper and sterner especially for scruffy students who won’t look after her books. She had to spend hours in front of the mirror practicing an authoritative voice and stern facial expression. Although the effect was occasionally ruined because she did have a horrible and embarrassing habit of occasionally giggling when angry or annoyed. After some practice she felt she could now convince the more careless students to take a little bit more care of her books. She had certainly taken a few of the male students by surprise when they had attempted to chat her up the ‘cute little blonde librarian’ when checking out books. Most people presumed she was a lot younger than she was, she was twenty-five years old and she had lost count of the number of times she had been asked for ID when trying to buy alcohol or party poppers. She had had to spend more time with the mirror practicing a suitable glare.

Whenever any of her favourite books were taken away from the library she always kept an eye on when they were due back and if they hadn’t been returned by the due date whoever still had then got a stern telephone call. Then a hard stare when brought back late, no one kept a book over long twice. She had got herself a reputation at the university, it was just a pity most of the students didn’t stay longer than three years, it meant she had to start all over again each September with each new batch of students. A new batch to convince she wasn’t the sweet little thing they thought she was and then persuade to treat the library’s books with respect. She dreaded to think what happened to the books when they were away from their homes, she had nightmares about what could happen to books in the outside world in the wrong hands. She had a special look of horror for anyone returning a book with any damage however small.

Violet continued her way around the library shelves checking the books were as they should be, all in their places, none placed untidily or horizontally on the shelves, none in the wrong section. She had the eyes of a hawk when it came to spotting books where they shouldn’t be, she could spot a book out of place at ten paces and home in on it. She had been taking especial care with this task lately due to a few books having gone mysteriously missing, it was mysterious because the missing books were then found again later in their correct place. Violet had been the one who had noticed the missing books as they were all from the classics section and quite often the beautifully crafted older volumes. None of the other librarians were too concerned as the books had all been found again within a week, and just assumed that they had been misfiled or hidden behind another book, no harm done. But Violet knew her library and its books, when a book had gone missing she’s hunted high and low for it, coming in well before the library was due to open so she could do it in peace, then when she went in the next day there is would be exactly where it should be, no harm done to it. When she questioned the other librarians none of them had found it and placed it there, they just looked at her a little strangely and offered to make her a cup of tea. Violet could tell they just assumed she’d overlooked it and it hadn’t even been missing in the first place, but she knew she hadn’t. One of the classics was missing at the moment it was Jane Eyre, one of her favourite books, and the book that had been missing previously to that one had been written by another of the Bronte sisters. Violet was suspicious. Why would someone steal books and then return them to a library, why not just check them out like everyone else. It was a puzzle she would turn over and over in her head late at night when she couldn’t sleep. She could not answer the question however she looked at it.

She never needed to look at the reference numbers on any of the books she knew exactly where they should be. The library had a sophisticated computer with all the books catalogued on it so anyone could find any book they wanted, searching by title or author. Violet didn’t use it...she didn’t need to. When happy that all the books where content and as they should be Violet returned to the desk near the entrance of the library and made sure all was tidy and as it should be. She glanced at her watch and pulled a face, looking towards the large double doors at the entrance to the library. Giving a sigh and checking the ‘QUIET PLEASE’ notice was straight, (Violet disapproved of the ‘please’) she turned the rest of the library’s lights on and waiting until the big hand of her watch was precisely on the twelve she unlocked the doors, sliding the open notice into place. She then returned to the desk and glared at the doors for a moment before picking up her book and starting to read. She liked the early mornings at the library, she finished work after lunch, when it was starting to get more busy and three more members of staff where there by then. Most students didn’t get out of bed until lunchtime unless they had lectures, so it was peaceful, not many people disturbing the books. Even though the library opened at 9.00 it was unusual to see many people in that early and more usually lecturers. The exception to this was one of the students that Violet had actually befriended. Aliya had been studying at the university when Violet had first started work at the library at age eighteen and had continued her