The rest of the day was quite boring.
I sat in a chair for an hour or so while Dan and Jonas continued to ramble back and forth. Finally they stood up from their chairs simultaneously and agreed that the Book is very mysterious and they don't really know how to deal with it. Afterwards, Dan led me back down into the obsidian room and asked me a great deal of questions about my life. A few were somewhat personal, but I answered them anyway. Given the fact that I was sitting across from a hooded man with a diamond sword, capable of controlling an aether of destruction, who may-or-may-not be associated with dangerous criminal organizations, I felt compelled to comply. At least he asked politely.
Now I'm sitting cross-legged at the head of the guestroom bed. Jonas sits to my right, rubbing his hands together slowly and intently.
I don't feel like talking to him right now. It's not as if I'm angry at Jonas; I'm just not in the greatest of moods after a long day of throat-drying life stories and soul-grinding boredom.
How much I'd give to Jeb to be outside right now. Dan became progressively more paranoid throughout the day, insisting that Jonas "keep an eye" on me while I wasn't in his sight. Dan later told me that I wouldn't be able to go outside after the sun set. I think it already has.
Oddly enough, many of the questions that Dan asked were about Jonas. There was a sharpness to his gaze, as if he didn't think I was telling the truth, but every so often an electrifying, silver shimmer would flit across his eyes, and his skepticism would fade away.
-
I remember telling Dan about the time I met Jonas. I was walking around in the dark at night, but I wasn't out looking for trouble. I was lost, and didn't truly understand the dangerous things which walked upon the unlit ground. I didn't have a weapon or any armor, just clothes.
Then trouble came looking for me, in the form of floating bones and tattered flesh. When I was surrounded, I kneeled down, closed my eyes, and screamed. I heard the ringing of a bashing steel blade and jarring screams of unearthly agony. When I opened my eyes, a tall, cloaked figure, wearing aviator goggles and a bandana over their face, outstretched their gloved hand towards me. I grasped the leather and they lifted me up.
"You really shouldn't be out here," the teenage boy said.
"How did you find me?" I ask, bewildered that I survived.
"All that matters is that you're safe," he responded, deferring the question.
-
It's strange how Jonas doesn't wear goggles or a bandana anymore.
I look back at Jonas. Between his thumb and his forefinger is a tiny, translucent, teal-colored marble. He blows upon it sharply but briefly, as if to clean off the dust. He then lays it back into his palm, and gently rubs his hands together in a circular motion.
I suddenly realize I am thirsty, and decide to break the silence. "Hey Jonas, I think I'm going to go get some water."
Jonas yawns. "Alright, then."
I walk out the door and walk towards the stairwell. Footsteps begin to echo behind me. I glance behind me and see Jonas following me, to my annoyance. Of course. I almost forgot Dan's new surveillance rule.
We ascend the stairwell up to the library floor, step down the opened passageway, and turn right to enter the kitchen. We both grunt in surprise as we almost run into Dan as he is sipping from a glass. Two other glasses of water stand behind him on the counter.
"Oh, hello there!" Dan greets jovially. "Perfect timing. I was pouring myself some water when I figured I'd come down and ask if you'd like some."
"Wow, thanks," I reply, taking the glass of water that Dan hands to me. I gulp it down hastily, emptying nearly half the glass before tilting it forward for a break. I begin to sense a bitter and slightly sour aftertaste which reminds me of redstone dust. A tense nervousness builds up in my chest, causing my grip to tighten around the glass.
"Drink no more of that," the Book admonishes. "Redstone is a potion ingredient. Dan is trying to drug you."
"Hey Dan," Jonas speaks out, "are you sure this water is alright? It tastes a bit funny."
Dan shrugs. "The well level is a bit low, so I imagine the water is harder than usual."
"Ah, that makes sense," Jonas continues drinking his water.
I stare at my half-filled glass, thirsty but reluctant. If the Book is right, then why would Dan try to drug Jonas as well?
"Put the glass down, Fristad," the Book demands. "The risk of the poison is not worth satiating your thirst."
I breathe in and out in a moment of thought. I shouldn't listen to what the Book says. It only wants to manipulate me. I shrug, and gulp the rest of the cool water down into my throat, restraining building feelings of fear as it bends and presses upon the walls of my mind. As the last drop of water flows from the glass into my mouth, the siege comes to an abrupt end, followed by a lingering sense of fear and shock.
"You will regret that," says the Book.
Whatever. I yawn.
As I walk back into the bedroom with Jonas and slide into bed, I wait in vain for the supposed poison to set in. I don't feel sick at all, but I'm definitely glad to finally be in bed.
"Good night, Jonas," I mutter lazily.
"'Night, Fristad," Jonas responds with a final yawn, before we both fall silent.
-
I find myself clenching my knees as I sit upon a stool, unsure of what to do. Loud, boisterous voices and clinking glasses echo around me. To my left is the man with the leather jacket and the fur cap. He leans his elbows on the counter, leaning forward intently. A woman on the other side places a large, filled mug in front of him.
"Thank you, ma'am." The man nods as he tips forward his fur cap.
"Where are we?" I blurt out.
The man turns his unnerving gaze upon me. "We are in the Britwal Tavern."
"Yes, but WHERE are we?" I insist, having never heard of such a place.
"I will tell you later. Please don't whine like that."
"Excuse me, missy," a friendly voice calls out behind me. I turn around and see a hulky man with hair down to his chin, wearing a sweat-soaked shirt and long, slightly tattered pants. A scabbard and pickaxe are tied to his belt. "Are you lost?"
"No, she's with me," the man next to me replies.
"Sir, you really ought to know that a tavern is no place for–"
"Mister miner, where is he taking me?" I plead.
The hulky man's eyes widen in shock. "You took – gyaaa!" With the sound of a thump, the man winces and stretches his neck in pain.
The man with the fur cap is now standing up. His leg is pressed down upon the other man's foot. "Stay away from her," he snarls.
The hulky man pulls his foot back and composes himself. "I thought I smelled something fishy about you. You oughta back off before your puny frame gets a fist in the wrong place, you sick fool!"
"Take back your threat. You don't want to fight me," the other man counters, staring him down with a grin.
"Nice try, little man. Now, this is your last chance to walk away unscathed: leave the girl alone."
"I refuse."
The miner yells as he throws his fist into the leather-capped man's face. Suddenly, he halts and screeches in pain. I hear a hissing, burning sound. The miner is bent over onto his knees. The man with the fur cap leans over him with his elbow locked beneath the miner's jaw.
"What I'd really like right now," the man with the fur cap whispers, his tone alternating rapidly between a sardonic snarl and a playful giggle, "is a little bit of respect."