text: “I’ve had enough!” Kyln dropped onto a fallen branch and crushed it under his weight. “We’ll be lost in this forest for the rest of our days, doomed to search for trinkets we’ll never find.” “Whose idea was it to venture into the Black Valley to begin with!? You promised we’d be swimming in gold by now!” Hob wobbled sideways over the crumbled leaves. The two gremlins came to a mushroom and collapsed under its stem. It was nice to finally get some shade, thought Kyln. He wiped his forehead with his long pointy ear and watched his dimwitted brother continue along a tree root. Hob had made their journey longer from his careless missteps. Kyln rolled his eyes as Hob fell over the root and disappeared over the other side. As his brother yodeled his displeasure as he took a tumble the vocalizations soon turned to excitement. “Kyln! Kyln! Come see! Our troubles are over!” Kyln rolled his eyes again and slowly made his way over the root and gazed at what his brother had found. The object was the size of a fairy’s house, long and square, and sat in the nook of the tree roots, spread open. Hob scratched his head and made inquisitive noises. “It’s a manuscript, you daft buffoon. A book.” said Kyln. The yellow pages had been exposed to the elements and were worn with the foliage and shrubbery that grew around it. Just as Hob was about to scratch his head again a robed gremlin stood up from the top of the book, rising from the moss above, using the pages as a balcony. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had visitors.” The gremlin spoke with an old, uncertain voice, as if he hadn’t used it in a while. “If you’ve come for the book, be warned -” He suddenly fell down the crevice of the book, tumbling head-over-heel down the crusty pages, and landing in a plume of dust. Hob shrugged his shoulders while looking to Kyln. “What are those scribblings there? Only someone with large hands could read this. How many nymphlings would it take to read that?” “I’m Aether, if you’ll care to hear it.” said the old gremlin, patting off the dust on his knees. “This is not a book for nymphlings, or any other sprite of the forest.” “Yes.” said Kyln. “The children of Abe. Sapiens, they’re called. The sapiens are a wise race but often wisdom comes with the vexation of overthinking. They keep and read many books like this one.” “Can we sell it to them?” Hob moved quickly to the book, running over to the edge and rubbing the massive binding. “Depending on the rarity we could make a good chunk of gold for this. Aether, is it? Are you willing to part with it?” said Kyln. “Oh no,” Aether shambled to his feet in a hurry. “I told you. This book is not for you. This book only brings woe.” Kyln chuckled. “All objects are valuable to someone. I’m sure someone wants this dusty old thing.” “Is it a cookbook?” asked Hob gleefully. “It is neither of those things.” Aether plopped onto the paper’s edge, head down. “Nobody knows where it came from or why it came. Long ago, before the sapiens were a nomad tribe, they lived in large castles and towns, collected together like a bunch of berries. After the last great war of man there was a time of temporary peace. During this peace the sapiens became complacent, bored with life. They needed guidance, they needed insight. They received this insight when a book appeared in all of their hands at once, suddenly and unexpectedly. A book like this one.” “At once? All of them? Even the children?” Kyln lowered his left eyebrow. “Only the adult sapiens and only those stricken on hard times.” said Aether. “Nobles did not receive the book and neither did mystic priests or shamans. The sapiens were curious at first. They did not know from whence the book came. Magic was to blame of course. It could only be magic that caused the appearance of a tome on such a massive scale. But no priest, wizard, witch, sorcerer or warlock claimed responsibility for the arcane phenomenon.” Kyln tried to remain calm but his voice grew louder. “What was contained within?” “Everything. And nothing.” Aether waved his hand in the air and then made a fist. “Nothing was written at first but as the days went by words started to fill the books, all of them, at once. The words that appeared were simple advice on how to live. The people, the sapiens, were muddled with worry and melancholy and the words they saw filled them with joy and relief. After all, wouldn’t it be wonderful if you were given a book that told you how to be happy, how to live a long and healthy life, and without vexation?” “Yes!” Hob was eating a mushroom spore. His brother shook his head. “But their lives soon took a dark turn.” continued Aether. “The books contained the same content. Some pages had recipes, some had advice on how to raise a child, how to raise a corn stock. Proverbs, inherent sapien rights, calendars, instructions on various trades. Somewhat of an almanac really. It seemed like sapien society would flourish through peace and order. But some of sapiens took sharper meaning to the prose contained within and schisms started to shape the land. They instilled their own beliefs in trying to understand the mystery of the book. Sapiens are a fickle sort. They seem to enjoy dying for their beliefs. And they did, by the wagonload.” “No wonder their trinkets are so abundant in these dark, abandoned places.” Kyln rubbed his chin. “And their bones. Saw a few back on the road.” said Hob. “‘The rain washes away the pain of scorched soil.’ This quote from the book led to much disagreement and violence.” Aether’s robe flapped in the wind when he turned to face the giant book. “The eastern sapiens rallied under Harbinger Harken, claiming this phrase was meant to signify that sapiens were meant to be subservient to a one true king. While the opposing side believed that it meant simply what was written...that sometimes it rains...” Hob covered his eyes. “Oh, such sadness. But the book itself cannot be blamed.” “If any of this is to be believed.” Kyln said examining the large leaves of paper closely. “Interpretation isn’t to blame either.” Aether continued. “As the War of the Book waged the people started to shut themselves off from the world. The words in the book changed more frequently, often around evening time, when the sapiens returned home from a long day and were more susceptible to suggestion. When I was a house gremlin, I was able to read a few pages before the masters of the house awoke. The text itself seemed to have become more edgy and rough, as if the writer was angry. One line stuck out to me and still haunts me: ‘Free speech is only free when people are willing to die for it.’ The book started to mirror their distrust and unease, further driving a wedge between them and their neighbors, by confirming their ill-conceived fears and hatred. I’ll save you the miserable and violent details. I barely made it out of the house before the entire town went up in smoke from rioting.” “Were they hungry? I get like that when I’m hungry.” said Hob. Aether bowed his head, concealing his face. “For revenge mostly, yes. The words became spiteful and the more they read of the book the more it catered to their hateful beliefs, the more it pleased them. When Harken invaded, the western sapiens were weakened and desperate. They gave their belongings to the overlord freely, their freedom and their wisdom they abandoned with ease. I don’t rightly know what happened after that, only that their culture perished and their cities were left in ruin.” “Fascinating story.” Thought Kyln. “But this tale doesn’t have a very good ending. Why wouldn’t they simply burn the books?” Aether looked up, “Such an act would be treason. They’d rather burn themselves.” “That’s right! If I had a book that could tell me the weather or where to find the best berries, I wouldn’t part with it either!” Said Hob. Kyln looked up at the book with a furled brow. He gently touched the worn edges and tried to lift up the pages but they were practically glued together from sediment and age. “Perhaps this is the true lesson. We’ve traveled far, in search of something valuable for trade. I thought, perhaps mistakenly, that there would be a pot of gold waiting for us, and that the journey would culminate into something more meaningful. But I can see that the search for possession can never really provide any kind of substance.” “Speak for yourself, brother! I’ll take anything I can get. Especially when it comes with such pretty words.” “You can’t even read.” replied Kyln. “What would you get out of it?” Hob’s eyes widened, “Yes but...it’s pretty. But perhaps it’s best to let sleeping things lie.” Kyln nodded, “Perhaps it is best we leave these things in the past and find other ways to seek fortune.” “It is a safe bet.” said Aether, smiling. The brothers thanked the old gremlin and left them to guard the book, to tell the tale of woe that the book wrought, and to prevent anyone from ever seizing the unholy relic for themselves.