Calvin "Chappy" Chapman's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

The iron carriage rolled to a stop in the shadow of the Scriptorium. Chappy hopped down, smoothed his coat, and waved his crew forward like they were guests at a gala. Hatchet stayed near the bullet beetles with two Gravediggers. Chappy, Vix, Slade, and Monolith stepped through the blue-lit arch like scholars with overdue questions. Inside, robed clerks scratched at long desks. Chappy smiled at every one of them. He nudged Vix toward a side corridor while Slade trailed behind, eyes hunting the room. Monolith's stone replacements ticked in their sockets, scanning the air for hexes only he could see. He grunted once. Clear. For now. The corridor ended at the sealed guard post. Two tome-stacked sentinels stood watch, eyes burning pink, hands chained to massive books. The carved sign above warned them off. Chappy whispered the obvious. "Finesse over fight, witch." Vix knelt and chalked a curl of red across the floor. Her fingers shook. Hex magic wasn't quiet work. The sigil pulsed. The sentinels' pink eyes dimmed to a dull gray. They didn't sleep — they simply forgot to see. Chappy slipped between them, lifted two axe-shaped keys from their chained hands, and grinned. Iceberg's. Cutstripe's. He turned the keys in the sealed door of the restricted annex. The lock groaned open. Forbidden shelves glowed inside, every spine humming. Outside, things were going worse. A burly cluster of country elves and orc gypsies had circled Hatchet at the carriage. Hatchet's blade was already out. A Gravedigger was already down. The first shot from the carriage's gatling cracked the quiet street wide open. Clerks inside lifted their heads. Bells began to ring through the Scriptorium walls. Chappy heard the bells and swore softly. He shoved Vix through the door, dragged Slade in behind him, and pulled it shut. They were inside the forbidden wing with the keys in his pocket and a riot starting at his back. He'd gotten what he came for. Now he just had to live long enough to read it.