Рахма Крамбо - Guardian Cats And The Lost Books Of Alexandria

When he reached a platform, the walls on one side dropped away. They were in a deep cavern, even darker and more boundless than the stairways.

But Cicero wasn’t looking out through the railing into the cavern. Marco turned to face the rock wall and found there was a door, just a regular door. For some reason, this small bit of familiarity comforted Marco.

The door creaked open. The floating light led the way, and this time Marco did not hesitate to follow.

The room was nothing more than a small cave. Marco explored its nooks and crannies while Cicero waited, but the room was occupied only by a single wooden table. Why did Cicero bring him to such a strange place? He jumped up to join Cicero on the table and saw what he couldn’t see from the floor.

“You must not tell anyone about this,” Cicero said.

What was there to tell? There was a box. Sitting on a table. It smelled nice but that was about it.

“Don’t think that this is an ordinary box,” Cicero said. “Why do you think it is hidden in such a place?” he asked, then answered his own question. “Only something of value needs this kind of protection.”

Marco wondered what was in the box, but he didn’t ask. Cicero seemed to be asking all the questions. “Do you know what a sentinel is?”

“Um…” Marco started, but had no answer.

“A sentinel is like… a soldier.” Cicero paused, then smiled slightly and nodded. “A quiet soldier. Yes, I like that description,” he said, obviously pleased with himself.

“Cats are sentinels…” he continued. “Foolish humans, the ones who don’t understand us, think we do nothing but sleep. What they do not know…” his voice trailed off. “They are a full time job, this responsibility of human caretaking.”

Marco didn’t know it, but this wouldn’t be the last time Cicero would ramble on about his theory of humans and other favorite topics.

“They are well disposed—humans who take us for a friend. We are ever alert, even when we appear to be napping. We do not sleep in the manner of dogs. Our ears are attuned to frequencies beyond this world.”

Marco wished Cicero would explain why they were so far underground, but Cicero wasn’t through explaining other things.

“It was natural that we were chosen to be sentinels, or guardians of the books, as well. Not only ordinary books, but now… Now, I must show you the real reason why I am the library cat.”

Cicero lowered his voice, even though no one was around. “I must take you on a journey. To another place. Another time. There you will meet the original Guardians.”

Cicero brought his attention full onto Marco. “Are you ready?”

“Sure,” agreed Marco. Cicero was eccentric, but he wasn’t dangerous, like the alley cats, and Marco was curious to see where Cicero would take him.

“All right then. Close your eyes,” Cicero directed. “And whatever you do, don’t open them until we get there.”

They were sitting on the table, like bookends, their noses close enough that Marco felt warm puffs of Cicero's breath. A soft humming stirred the air. He had to peek.

“Keep them closed!” ordered Cicero.

Marco slammed his eyes shut and tried to copy Cicero. He didn’t know what to think about, so he pictured Lucy. Something fluttered above his head and the soft humming grew distant. Something was quivering, but it was hard to tell if it came from outside or inside of him.

“Alaniah, I believe we are ready,” Cicero called out to the darkness.

Marco felt a tingling, then an odd sense of floating, as though he’d left his body. It was an unusual, but not unpleasant feeling. He wondered if they were on a boat, rocking on ocean waves. The rising and falling made him drowsy. It was the last peaceful moment of their trip.

Chapter 10: Falling through time

Without warning, a tremendous force grabbed hold and sucked Marco downward. He did not know he was in a vortex. All he knew was pain, like something was exploding inside his head. He opened his eyes to try to get his bearings, but that only made things worse. Light was rushing past him on all sides. Not just everyday light, but weird, all stretched-out-of-shape light, whizzing past like he was sitting in one place and the entire universe was in motion. His stomach lurched and he came close to throwing up.

Stop! He wanted to scream, but nothing came out of his twisted mouth. On and on he spun, falling and spinning faster than the speed of light. Then abruptly, as though he’d been propelled into a dark void, the noise stopped and he was floating. He saw nothing. He heard nothing, not even faintly, and he could not feel his body anymore.

I must be dead now, he thought with a strange calmness. In fact, he was deliriously happy. Even though he couldn’t move, it didn’t seem to matter.

Then life returned to his body. But life meant feelings. At first, there were just prickly sensations, but that quickly passed. His legs were trembling. Then his whole body shook and the shaking became tremors and soon his entire body convulsed out of control. The last thing he remembered was wishing he were dead.

Chapter 11: The sound of the scribes

The gurgling, watery sounds were pleasant enough, but Marco was reluctant to open his eyes again. However, he couldn’t resist a quick peek. There was a winged horse, frozen, but looking as though it were about to take flight. Marco supposed it wouldn’t hurt to open his other eye. He was sitting on a stone wall surrounding a large pool of water. The winged horse was in the middle of the pool, and all around him sprays of sparkling water rose and fell. The sun shone as if it were a normal spring day.

Cicero sat on the wall next to him, licking his fur.

“Are we dead?" asked Marco.

“The first trip is the hardest. I told you not to open your eyes, but it’s hard not to. Don’t worry. It gets easier.” Cicero was washing his tail. “It always takes me a while to recover.”

The first trip? What was he talking about? And how could Cicero be so casual? Marco had enough. It was time for answers. “What did you do to me?” he demanded. “Are you trying to get me killed?”

Cicero continued grooming, and Marco thought he was avoiding the question because it might be true. What had he gotten himself into?

Cicero completed putting his fur in order and then they were both gazing at the winged horse who was reared back, his front legs pawing at the air. “Time traveling is always risky, and this trip is especially difficult,” he began. “We had to come a long way to get back to the fourth century. Over sixteen centuries.”

Marco had no clue what he was talking about.

“It’s a bit challenging for your first trip, but it couldn’t be helped. Then, of course, we had to move through space as well. When you add both aspects together like that… Well, you see, if we were simply traveling into another dimension, we could have used a portal. Those are easy, but one never knows where they’ll end up. Portals are no good when you have to pinpoint an event.”

Marco wondered how he was going to find his way home. He got up on all fours and almost fell into the pool.

“Give yourself time to adjust,” said Cicero. “You’ll be fine.”

Marco sat back down. He surrendered for the moment and took to licking the fountain’s mist from his fur while Cicero droned on in the background.

“There’s no way to explain time travel. Even if you’ve read about folding space, wormholes, black and white holes, you’d have no better idea of what to expect. I’ve been studying for years and I still don’t understand how it all works.”

Marco thought a wormhole should be for worms, not cats. As for traveling, until now his longest journey had been to the town library. When he looked at Cicero, there was two of him. Clearly, things were not becoming clearer.