[i]"... as if on cue, there was a thunderous boom as the business end of a battering ram crashed against one of the library doors. Large but not reinforced, they would not sustain many blows before breaking open. A few soldiers might not be much of a threat, but on the other hand, an escape through the opposite entrance would be faster."[/i]

Nykerius, shaken from his reverie by the battering ram, sprang into action. His heart was filled with grief and though he longed for vengeance, he had no wish to become entangled in a battle with the Ghantian soldiers right now. There were far too many of them to fight and the sounds of battle would only draw more soldiers to the library, and he could not kill them all. He looked around the old library, his eyes searching for anything precious to save. He saw scrolls, books, tapestries, shields with heraldry... he could not bring too much or it would slow him down. His eyes fell on a particular book, one that was flipped open on display: [i]The Kings of Altranor.[/i] It detailed the lives and achievements of all of Altranor's kings and court scribes regularly came to the library to update it, spending countless hours on beautiful calligraphy to immortalize their rulers. Erasmus was dead and Nykerius suspected that the same was true for his entire family. If Bernard of Ghant was to burn this book it would be like Erasmus and his forefathers never existed... 

Another loud bang urged Nykerius on. He grabbed the book in his left hand, his right hand tightly gripping the wooden shaft of his staff, his wind-caller. He turned to look at the barred door and saw the wood split and buckle under the weight of the impacts. The wizard knew he was out of time and as he turned to flee, the door gave in and a handful of soldiers entered the room. Their swords were drawn and the look on their faces left nothing to the imagination as to their intent. 

Nykerius straightened up to his full height, looking at the soldiers with an unreadable expression. Not only their blades, but their Ghantian uniforms were splattered with blood and gore. [i]Such savagery,[/i] Nykerius thought with disdain. One of them, a tall officer with a handlebar moustache, sneered at Nykerius. "Wrong place, wrong time, old man," he said. There was no point in trying to run -- the wizard's old legs could not carry him fast enough to escape. He would have to stand his ground after all. Nykerius narrowed his emerald eyes at the officer, whose sneer faltered a little. Even the hardiest of men felt uncomfortable when subjected to the sorcerer's piercing gaze. "I should think not," Nykerius said calmly, as if he was merely discussing the weather. In the same conversational tone, he continued: "I will give you one chance to flee, gentlemen. If you do choose to assault me, I cannot be held responsible for the consequences." 

The Ghantian soldiers laughed; a hollow, mirthless sound. Without another word, they advanced on Nykerius, murder in their eyes. The wizard spoke quickly and quietly, made a deceptively swift motion with his left hand, and several things happened at once. 

His half-moon spectacles flashed dangerously and a painfully loud noise, like a whipcrack, filled the room, accompanied by a bright flash of light and a searing sensation that set hairs on end and teeth on edge. The Ghantian soldiers yelled in alarm and instinctively raised their hands to shield their eyes. Unseen to them, their commander crumpled to the floor, smoke wafting from a grape-sized hole punched in the fabric of his uniform, close to his heart. Little sparks of lightning arced through the air, afterburn of the magic used, popping and sizzling in the sudden silence -- the only other sound was the wizard's footsteps as he disappeared between two shelves stacked with books. 

Nykerius reached the exit before the Ghantian soldiers had found him again. They were searching for him, yelling to each other, but they did not know the royal library's layout. Quietly, but with haste, Nykerius opened the door on the other end of the library and slipped out into a corridor. Here, too, tapestries hung on the walls, and lit torches illuminated the way every dozen yards. He set off down the corridor as fast as he could, using his staff for support. He had to get out of the castle and out of the city... he thought of Riven, Roderick, Lin'Lise and all the others. He could not leave yet without knowing what had become of them. There were still sounds of fighting outside -- that meant there was still resistance. Nykerius headed for the courtyard, keeping an eye out for more Ghantian soldiers.