The final second to last chapter to Part 4, Chapter 33: Qualia, has just been released. As the name may suggest, it is an unusual chapter. :3 It was yet another one that took a while to write; hopefully I got the ideas across sufficiently. Then again, I don't want the ideas to come across too easily. I am contradictory. This sentence is random.
Also, I present an interesting milestone: the text file for this story is now over 100 pages long when viewed in Microsoft Word! W00t!!
That's a really long text file. I checked here after seeing you'd posted a new chapter and I'll try to read it later if I have time.
Feel free to leave your comments. Or criticisms, I suppose, if they're constructive. Almost anything really, unless it's an outright threat. In that case I'd prefer you put it in a private message.
I just finished all 4 parts in 1 sitting O_O The book just pulled me in. I was all like "Whooooa" and she was like "Oooohmigosh" and...Wait, where am I going with this. Anywho, got me on the edge of my seat...Or bed.
Pssst...I also made a pyramid for the votes like Mage...
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I just finished all 4 parts in 1 sitting O_O The book just pulled me in. I was all like "Whooooa" and she was like "Oooohmigosh" and...Wait, where am I going with this. Anywho, got me on the edge of my seat...Or bed.
Pssst...I also made a pyramid for the votes like Mage...
Vote (8)
Vote Vote Vote (9)
Vote Vote Vote Vote Vote (10)
Omg.
I'm glad you enjoyed it! But seriously...
You... read everything I've written so far... all in one sitting? O_O How long did it take?
“What a filthy liar Dan is, to claim that I am human. He is purposefully oblivious to the pain and meaninglessness of the entirety of my existence, belittling me, taunting me with an life I have never had, and to what end? To deceive us into separation. His twisting logic is a danger to our existence.”
My jaw clenches in response to the Book’s enraging words. We have to do something!
Before I hear the Book’s response, Jonas begins to speak.
“How is that even possible?” Jonas wonders, laying his book and his arms down upon the table. “Humans and the void... they just don’t mix.”
“I am a living exception of that,” Dan replies, “and, in a way, you are too. Of course, we are very unusual people. Perhaps the book is an unusual case.”
“It isn’t exactly unusual for any human to survive in the deep void for thousands of years. Even a void magician like you couldn’t survive for long. Plus, an ender-born like me can’t be harmed by the void in the first place, which wouldn’t make sense if the book felt any pain...” Jonas’ brow sinks as he begins to think. “...but that’s out of the question, since an Ender Born isn’t truly human to begin with.”
“I agree, it seems preposterous that a human could be able to survive in the void for that long, but on the other hand, the same could be said for almost any other living thing. All I know is what I’ve learned from the spells that I’ve used, which seems to suggest strongly that the book is human. Magic works in strange and sometimes poorly understood ways, so I wouldn’t rule anything out.”
“I suppose you’re right; I just wish there was a better explanation, something that we already understood.” Jonas’ voice tapers off with his train of thought.
Dan shrugs. “I am not certain that that will be the case. I will just have to do some more tests, and hopefully the book’s existence will make more sense by then. On the other hand, perhaps I’ve assumed something that I shouldn’t have. I have no way to know that the book was in the void for as long as it said it was. That would explain a lot, actually.” Dan rubs his fingers on either side of his head. “Still, that doesn’t explain how it found its way into the deep void... Forget it; I’m rambling. We’ll all think clearer after some lunch.” Dan’s lids rise in sudden realization. “Oh dear, I forgot about the potions!”
Dan turns around and leaves, his hasty steps echoing upon the solid stone floor until they finally fade away. The Book projects a sense of urgency and restlessness.
“I think I better check on what Dan is up to,” I nod towards Jonas.
Jonas glimpses at me with a fleeting moment of confusion, but then reciprocates a nod, picking up his book once more.
I jerk away from the table and walk with short, swift steps into the hall, past the middle room with the desk and bookcases, hurried but confused as to why. What is happening? Why am I following Dan?
“You need to search the obsidian room before the ward returns,” says the Book. “If my suspicions about its design are correct, it should have something that we need in order to escape.”
What is in the obsidian room that we need so badly?
“Do not think the slightest thought about it now. The events will unfold themselves later. Walk faster, you sloth! This may be our only chance to get what we need. If Dan sees you searching for it, he will know too much, and you are far too terrible of a liar to make up for it.”
I feel my legs push harder upon the stone floor. My increasing pace reminds me of when I fled the spring fields of the cottage in the dream. My efforts are futile, aren't they?
I look up and see the turn in the hallway approaching closer, perhaps only fifteen meters away now. Five meters. I slow down my quick-crashing steps and tense my movements, feeling slowly for the hard stone beneath my feet. I lean my head beyond the edge of the right wall before stepping softly into the great obsidian room. As I turn my head from left to right, I feel my heart stutter in panic as I spot Dan walking up the stone brick stairs, five floors below me. I crouch down as fast as I can, wincing as I hear the wood creak slightly beneath me.
I can already tell that this is a bad idea.
“There is no time to hesitate. Search the chests.”
I crouch-walk towards the wall of chests on the right, away from the staircase. As I approach closer, I notice that the chests are held in place by pale wooden frames.
I approach the chest in the bottom right corner, grip the cool wood with both hands, and open it slowly. Its hinges whistle softly, but it makes no other sound, to my relief. Inside the chest are layers of folded leather with string tied around them, as if there is something inside of them. On top of the folded leather is a metal canteen, a compass, and folded paper, most likely maps.
“That is not quite what we are looking for. Try another chest.”
Why would Dan keep travel supplies in here, of all places? Perhaps this large room is also good for storage. I close the chest slowly, then sidestep to my left. This chest is closer to the edge of this floor. I glance to my left, where four levels of wooden flooring are visible on the far side of the wall. I don’t see Dan; maybe he's on the other side. I turn my head forward again. As I reach towards the lid of the chest, I feel a slight breeze on my hands. Was that a draft? I bend my head forward towards a gap in the wooden frame. It’s too dark to see behind it. I reach my hand towards the gap, but pull it back quickly as I feel the Book observing me.
“Fristad, snap out of it! You need to search the chest.”
I lift the lid of the chest. Inside is a pile of rocks of various colors.
“Perfect,” the Book coos with satisfaction. “All we need is a small piece of flint. Take it.”
I pick up one of the murky grey rocks and close the chest. I can’t help but smile with satisfaction. We did it. I turn around and gingerly crouch-walk towards the mouth of the exit before standing up again. As I walk down the hall, I slip the piece of flint into my left back pocket. In my mind’s eye, I briefly remember the unusual composition of the mouth of the room: obsidian on all sides, even the bottom. My grin sinks as I realize that I am about to go to a terrible place.
Then I hear someone else’s footsteps mirroring mine; I glance behind me and my muscles freeze instinctively as I see Dan walking towards me. Did he hear my footsteps? What if he suspects something?
Dan’s unnervingly blue eyes widen as he abruptly stops walking. “Oh! Hello, Fristad. You caught me by surprise. What are you doing here?”
“Um... I forgot something.” I struggle to sift through my brain for some excuse for some small, trivial object that I could have left behind, but I can’t think of anything. I think back on the excuse I gave to Jonas for suddenly leaving. “I mean... no. I was just checking up on what you were doing.”
Dan’s brow raises. “You were watching me cork potion bottles?”
Oh no. Dan doesn’t believe me. Why would anyone watch him do something as boring as cork potions? Still, I can’t just tell him that I wasn’t watching him; that would just make me look like more of a liar. I have to pretend like I was watching him.
“I was hoping it would be more interesting than that,” I reason.
Dan bursts into laughter as he leans his head back. He looks back at me with a smile. “Well, I suppose I don’t blame you.”
My muscles relax in relief. Thank Notch that Dan is not suspicious.
------------
I find myself sitting at the kitchen table once again. Jonas sits to my right, Dan sits to my left. In front of each of us is a sandwich made with some of Jonas’ dried pork.
“I apologize for keeping you waiting,” Dan says. “I imagine you are just as starving as I am.”
“No worries, cousin.” Jonas bites into his sandwich.
I begin eating slowly, forced to hesitate as my fears return. Why is it that Dan seems so forgiving? He can’t possibly be so naive that he wouldn’t care that I was in the room with him. Did he leave the kitchen on purpose, to see how I would react?
The Book chimes in. “Regardless of how much Dan knows, our need to escape continues to grow more urgent. You saw the potions he drank to cast those powerful spells. You saw the diamond sword that he had. He could easily kill you if he wanted to.”
But Dan wouldn’t want to kill me, would he? I’m his cousin’s best friend.
“Perhaps you have had too much faith in Jonas.”
I observe Jonas out of the corner of my vision, his glowing eyes barely visible from beneath his hood. What is it about Jonas that makes me so uneasy? There is evil in those eyes. And somehow, despite all the years that I’ve known him as a friend, despite all the years that I’ve grown to trust him, I resent him. I resent his kind. Something about Endermen fills me with hatred, and by extension, Ender-borns. And I don’t know why.
Chapter 36: Trials of the Past
The large tome of Qualia is open once again. Dan flips through the thin pages until his finger lands upon the words which he seeks.
“Are you ready?” Dan asks with a sigh.
“I guess so,” I reply, a bit more nervous than before.
The Book speaks, “Of course we know that every spell that Dan casts on us puts us at a disadvantage, but we have no choice. Our best hope of escaping tonight depends on Dan’s ability to trust you, which in turn depends on your willingness to succumb to his spells.”
Dan ingests his purple potion, and braces himself on the table in pain for a long minute. I then uncork and drink my potion, a yellow one this time, and notice that it tastes slightly sweet. As I drop my empty vial onto the table, Dan begins to recite a spell. His voice fills my ears before growing into a deafening whirlwind of chaos. My vision flashes and pulsates ever more wildly, until the whirlwind of wild shapes consumes me. I feel as if a great deal of time has been erased, and now has yet to pass.
------------
I look around the classroom, trying to find a grain of something familiar. Everyone else seems so happy when they’re talking with each other; why not me? Why do I have to be alone?
I search across the people sitting at each desk, but all of their faces are of strangers. Where is Airlass? She said she would be here.
I look again at the blackboard at the front of the classroom, where the teacher has begun writing with chalk. The excited classroom chatter continues. Who was the teacher’s name again? Thornberry? Wildthorn? Blackthorn? I forgot what it was. It was some sort of Nearlands name with the word “thorn” in it. I heard from Mom that the teacher writes their name on the blackboard when they come to the front of the class. I don’t think I see their name yet.
I pick up my pencil and balance it upon the tips of my fingers. One by one, I lower a finger, until only my index finger touches it. I breathe a deep sigh as I focus upon the pencil, imagining it fixed in place. I lower the last finger, and the pencil follows it, dropping onto the ground, to my disappointment.
A finger taps on my shoulder. As I turn around, I lock with the brown eyes of a strange-yet-charming man. He wears a leather jacket, a fur cap, and a five-o-clock shadow. Between his fingers, he grasps a bronze, five credit bullion. The man flicks the coin into the air and holds his palm out. The coin halts its fall just above his palm, spinning rapidly as it bobs slightly up and down. Then the coin suddenly stops spinning, and then slowly spins the other way, before finally dropping into his hand.
My jaw drops. “That’s a neat trick,” I note with admiration.
The man winks. “Perhaps I will show you some time.”
Then I notice that there are oak trees behind him.
“Hey, I never knew that there were trees in this classroom...”
The dream collapses underneath me as the paradox unravels.
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“What did you see?” Dan asks, looking intently at me, realizing before I do that my brows are furrowed in confusion.
I think upon the dream carefully, trying to hold onto the memory, so as not to forget it. Somehow the dream makes me feel nostalgic; it resonates with the blissful feeling of childhood innocence. Not unlike the cottage dream I had last night.
“I was in a classroom when a man tapped on my shoulder and showed me a coin suspended in mid-air.”
“What sort of man?” Dan inquires, confused.
“He looked like a hunter, I think. He was wearing a leather jacket and a fur cap, and looked like he hadn’t shaved in a week. He was also quite charming.”
“Charming? That’s a bit of an odd word to describe another man.”
“I’m just saying that’s what he looked like!” I snap.
“I apologize for judging you. It’s just that... I didn’t realize that you were...” Dan’s voice trails off as he searches for the right word.
“What? No! That’s not how it is at all!”
Dan blinks rapidly. “Okay, okay. Let’s just forget about it then. Still, I’m quite intrigued as to who this man might be. Correct me if I’m wrong: you said that the man was levitating a coin?”
I shrug. “Yes, that’s what happened.”
“Interesting...” Dan clasps his fingers together. “You don’t suppose that this was the same magician in the other vision?”
I shake my head. “No, this man seemed much different. He was friendly. The other man looked like he wanted to kill me.”
“Hmm, interesting...” Dan repeats, in roughly the same even, emotionless voice, as if in deep thought. He pushes himself up from the table. “Alright, let me get you another potion.”
Dan walks over to a shelf on the side of the wall, where all the corked potions are stored. He picks up an opaque yellow potion and a translucent orange potion.
I hear a thump as Dan’s hand places the corked glass vial in front of me. I grasp the vial and uncork it, then wait for Dan to sit down.
“Are you ready?” Dan’s eyes are glued upon the tome as he fingers through the sliver-thin pages.
“Yes, ready when you are.” I nod.
Dan returns a nod, uncorks his orange potion, and leans the vial back into his mouth. I lean my yellow potion into my lips and swallow. It is cold and slightly numbing, almost minty, then my lips pinch impulsively in response to its terribly bitter aftertaste. I hope to Notch that I will never have to drink this awful potion again.
I listen nervously to Dan’s incomprehensible spell, counting the seconds before the world twists into oblivion, taking my consciousness with it.
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“Notch smite it! Fristad, where are you?” I hear my father’s worried voice calling from a distance.
It is dark. I struggle to keep my fingers from slipping from the steel sword, as the cold, hard hilt is too thick for my grasp, and my arms strain to hold the sword up under its weight. Dad’s leather armor feels baggy and is difficult to run in without tripping. I look behind me, breathing heavily as I see a skeleton running after me, cocking another arrow into its bow. I laugh hysterically. It can’t hit me. I’m too fast.
I turn my head forward again. There is a creeper wandering out in front of me, but I’m not afraid.
I hear the snap of a whizzing arrow and dash to my right, before the wavering stick plunges into the dirt. I strain my arms harder as I lift my sword, then veer back towards the skeleton, flanking it.
“Fristad, get away! You are in grave danger!” Dad’s voice is perhaps only a few feet behind me.
There is a deadly urgency to his voice, such that I abandon my attack on the skeleton and sprint away as fast as I can. Within a second, I feel the ground pull my legs out from underneath me as a screeching bang crushes my ears. As my chest crashes upon the earth, I hear a ringing in my ears and see stars all around me.
I push myself up as fast as I can and look behind me. Dad and the skeleton are both laying on the ground; both are still, but Dad is breathing heavily. He is missing a leg. The skeleton is missing a head.
Tears well up in my eyes. “Daddy!” I cry.
A moment passes in silence before Dad’s hand reaches towards me.
“Fristad, calm down.” Dad croaks weakly. “I’m going to be fine. Get me back to the house.”
Dad’s form shakes and twists into the darkness. I feel a thick rope tighten around my chest. I am hanging from it. As I look down into the blue sky, I feel as if gravity has been reversed, but then when I look up, I realize I am hanging beneath the crags of bedrock, with tongues of silver crashing against the rocks like an ocean, and floating all around me. I feel the heat of a sickly fever, which progresses into biting pain, which becomes burning, which then proceeds to tear my flesh apart. I scream in agony, pulling at the hanging rope, but I can already feel the strength in my arms growing weaker.
“You monster!” I cry out. “Pull me out of here, if at all you value my humanity! Have mercy!”
“Just a little while longer...” A man’s voice calling from a hole in the crag of bedrock replies calmly.
I let my muscles go limp, as I realize that I am about to die. The pain suppresses all my other thoughts; I feel a numbness as my vision fades.
The pain begins to subside. I think it’s finally over... but then I feel a faint tug on my chest... and then nothing.
After a while, I feel a hardness forming underneath me. The world fades back in, stone walls lit by flickering torchlight. I feel a throbbing pain; curious of the source I glance down at my arms, and gasp in shock at the wide gashes, lined with wisps of flowing silver. The fever has not subsided.
I wince in pain as a hard hand grasps my shoulder.
“We’ll try again tomorrow.”
Chapter 37: Impasse
A hand pokes urgently at my shoulder. “Fristad, are you okay?”
I gasp myself awake, my chest pressing against the cold floor. Remembering the very same man who hung me by ropes in the heat of the void, I growl with hatred, roll over onto my back, and kick the Notch-forsaken magician in his jaw.
“To the Nether with you, you hopeless demon!” I cry with burning anger. “You had made me a fool. I should have known that it was you who caused me all this pain. Why is it that I let myself play your stupid game?”
“Fristad, I’m confused,” the man replies, unphased. He didn’t even seem to flinch. “Why don’t you tell me what the matter is with you before you try to kick me again?”
The man’s face jitters, his eyes flickering between brown and blue, before his form materializes as Dan. I grimace with embarrassment as I realize it was him that I just kicked.
“Oh shoot, I’m so very sorry...”
“Don’t be,” Dan replies. “Please, just tell me what you saw.”
I sigh, hesitant to recall the bitter memories. “I saw my father’s leg get blown off by a Creeper. And then I was burning in the void again. This time I was hanging from some ropes. There was a man calling from above the bedrock, telling me that I needed to wait just a little bit longer. Then, I lost consciousness. I woke up with wide silver gashes in my arms.”
Dan gazes distantly, saying nothing. After a short while, he takes a deep breath. “Is that actually something that happened to your father? Is he missing a leg?”
I nod. “He is.”
“Then I think we’re done here.” Dan reaches his hand down toward mine. “Do you need a hand?”
I lift my hand up toward his grasp. Dan’s hand locks around mine and pulls me slowly onto my feet. “Thanks. But... what do you mean that we’re done here?” I ask.
“I mean that I’ve learned everything that I need to know... at least, as far as qualia could tell me. That isn’t saying much, however. There is still much work to be done.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I mean, I have to confront the book, of course.” Dan chuckles.
“Isn’t that kind of dangerous?”
“Very dangerous, actually. I don’t see any alternatives, though. I must understand how powerful the book really is. I at least have a good idea of what to expect.” Dan holds his hand forward, palm exposed. “May I see it?”
I raise my brow. “Do you honestly think I would just give the Book to you?”
Dan squints in challenge. “Well, it’s either the book, or both of you. And the spell I intend to cast is rather painful.”
I am suddenly rattled with intense fear. There is bloodlust in those eyes. I can feel it.
But that isn’t true. I struggle against the fear. With a sudden burst of volition, I clear my thoughts. The Book is trying to control me. It wants me to hate Dan. I can’t listen to it.
“Do not give me up to him, Fristad,” the Book warns. “Call him on his bluff. He would never intend to hurt you... at least, not yet. Hold your ground against him, and he will have no choice but to give up on his assault.”
And why should I listen to you? All this time, you’ve been a manipulative parasite, making me act against my will, even against my own conscience. I want you gone.
“Don’t you dare call me such things! I would do the same to protect you, would I not? Is there no sacred ground between us? Would you discard our friendship? Even when you have nothing to lose? Surely you are not that selfish and short-sighted to want me gone? Do you not realize that if you give me up to him, that you will feel the same pain that I feel?”
I feel the Book trying to expand the guilt inside of me, but I resist it. I ignore its words. I could care less if the Book forces its pain upon me. Freedom feels so close. If Dan manages to weaken the Book, even just a little bit, then perhaps this will all soon be over. I reach into my back pocket, grab hold of the Book, and hand it to Dan.
Dan walks over to the other side of the room, places the Book onto the floor, and steps back. Suddenly, the Book is consumed in a shower of purple sparks, followed by a loud, acute screech.
“Drat!” Dan blurts out.
I hear a female voice laughing. “Was that supposed to be an attack spell?” The Book taunts. “I felt nothing. So much for fearing for my life. This man Vrendan is hardly a magician.”
As the purple smoke clears, I see the Book lying on the floor, just as before, perfectly intact. The floor beneath it is dented like a tiny crater. I realize with sorrow that my troubles with the Book are far from over.
“What just happened? How did the Book survive?” I ask Dan.
“The Book is guarded by Ender-magic. I should have known. No wonder I couldn’t feel its presence.”
“Ender-magic?” the Book inquires coyly. “Does Dan mean to insinuate that I am immersed in the same substance which fills the shadowed monsters of the void?” There is disgust in the Book’s voice, but also a hint of sarcasm, as if the Book already knew that this was going to happen. I begin to question why the Book didn’t tell me it was immune to void magic, but the thought is quickly submerged.
“Ender-magic... as in Endermen?” I echo from the Book.
“Yes and no. It is the same sort of magic, but I am certain that the book is not an Enderman. That complicates things.” Dan shakes his head in dismay. “My void magic will be useless against it.”
“Why don’t you just cut it in half with your diamond sword, then?” I ask.
“Given what I know now, I fear that that may be too dangerous.”
My heart sinks further, as I realize that my troubles may even be beyond Dan’s expertise. “Does that mean you won’t be able to help me?”
“No, most certainly not! Although, given the nature of my trade, I won’t be able to do this on my own.”
“What do you propose that we do, then?”
“Well, first I will try to ask Jonas if he can help us. If not, then we will have to find someone else.”
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We find Jonas outside in the fields, observing the hogs chewing at the dead grass. Sunshine trots toward Dan and bounces upon her forepaws, pointing her maw up Dan’s leg.
Dan gently pushes the dog’s nose away. “Sunshine, that’s enough. Now is not the time.”
“Hello there,” Jonas says as he turns to face us. “How are the tests going?”
“We’ve arrived at an impasse,” says Dan. “I have used enough qualia spells to help me understand the book’s identity, but we’ve discovered that the book is a beacon for Ender-magic. Of course, me being a void magician, that discovery is somewhat problematic.”
Dan knows the Book’s identity? Why hasn’t he told me?
“What are you going to do now, then?” Jonas responds.
“I was actually wondering if it would be possible for you to help us.”
Jonas’ gaze sinks downwards. He takes in a breath in preparation to speak, but then he hesitates. “I don’t think I can do that.”
“Why not?”
“Do you even have to ask?” Jonas’ voice rises in volume. He glares at Dan with annoyance before glancing down again.
“This is about the suppression, isn’t it?” Dan inquires.
“It is and it isn’t. I don’t want to talk about it.” Jonas keeps his gaze low.
“What sort of suppression?” I ask.
Dan holds up a finger towards me, mouthing “hold on” with his lips. “What else besides the suppression is preventing you from helping us?”
“Nothing. Just forget that I said that.”
“Jonas, if you are hiding something from me that might...”
“I thought I said: ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’” Jonas mouths slowly, a hint of restrained anger in his voice.
“But can you help us?” Dan presses on.
“Is it at all possible that you could find someone else? You know how long it’s taken for me to get this far.”
“Jonas, I’m all for exploring all possible options,” Dan reasons, “but right now, you are our best hope. There is no one else within miles that we could trust to help us. And the sooner that we help Fristad, the more quickly he will be able to recover. So will you do it for Fristad?”
Jonas lets out a deep sigh. “Let’s continue talking about this indoors.”
Chapter 38: Seeds of Doubt
“Alright Jonas, speak your mind,” Dan says.
The three of us are sitting at the study table, the vertex of the four hallways. A black ink bottle housing a feather quill lies in its exact center. No books or artifacts remain on the table; all are stored neatly in the shelves of each of the four corners of the room.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. I felt like I’ve already said what I needed to say,” Jonas replies vaguely.
“And that is...?”
“I don’t want to use my Ender-magic. I thought I made that clear.”
I interject, “Because of the suppression, right? What is the suppression, anyways?”
Jonas’ purple irises gaze at me with sorrow. “Do you really want to know? The knowledge won’t help you.”
Jonas’ straightforward question catches me off-guard. It seems as if, briefly, Jonas has offered to open up to me. But do I trust myself enough as a friend to hold on to one of his secrets?
“It may even make you to decide not to do things that are in your own interest,” Jonas adds. He probably notices that I am hesitating, and wants to see if he can change my mind.
I reason aloud, “If the knowledge explains why you can’t use your Ender-magic to help me, then I think that I should know. Besides, you are my friend.”
Jonas smiles faintly, but only for a moment. “Then you should know that I am trying to become more human. In order to do so, I must avoid using Ender-magic entirely. That’s why it’s called ‘suppression.’ I am suppressing the side of myself which makes me like an Enderman.”
Dan pipes in. “Jonas’ body is composed of two forms of magic, Ender and earth. If he can avoid using Ender-magic and strengthen his connection with the earth, then his earth side, his human side, will eventually overshadow it."
Eventually? As in, his human side is not dominant yet? "How long have you been doing this?” I ask Jonas.
“Seventeen years,” Jonas responds.
“Wow, that’s a very long time.” I turn the dates over in my head. That was around the time I met Jonas, wasn’t it?
Jonas nods. “The process has taken me a long time. That’s because it’s not supposed to happen. It’s unnatural.”
“Don’t think so lowly of yourself, cousin.” Dan pats Jonas on the shoulder. “It is a choice that you have made. And you have put a great deal of effort into it.”
“I know.” Jonas sighs. “I just worry that refusing to help Fristad might put him in danger.”
“Fristad’s recovery is a process, not a discrete series of steps which must be followed,” Dan responds. “I apologize for pressing my request so hard upon you. I only wanted you to take my request seriously. But the decision is still yours.”
Jonas turns towards me. “What do you think, Fristad? Should I do it?”
“I have faith that things will turn out fine either way. And I respect your choice to not use Ender-magic,” I respond.
“But would you still say that, had you not known why I chose to refuse?”
I shrug. “I prefer empathy over ignorance.”
Do I really have faith that things will turn out okay? I don’t know; a part of me feels I am still doomed to become the Book’s slave either way. I suppose that I told Jonas a white lie, but it was a lie to keep him from worrying about me. I’m sure he has done the same for me. I believe he has done so in my best interest, even though his secrecy makes me uneasy.
I can feel the Book clawing at my mind, telling me that I am forgetting something, but I am trying very hard to suppress it.
“In that case, Jonas, I would like for you to share with me what you can about Ender-magic that you think may be relevant,” Dan says, “and I’ll see if that knowledge can help us.”
Thus, Dan and Jonas begin to exchange words with each other. At first, the conversation starts off as metaphysical, almost spiritual in nature. But the conversation quickly spirals down into a sea of technical jargon, until I can’t understand a word they are saying. How the heck does Jonas know all of this stuff?
The Book speaks, “There is a great deal about Jonas which we do not know. We certainly know very little about Jonas’ relationship with Dan. It is obvious that the two of them share an intimate knowledge of magic, but this is unexplained by the fact that Jonas has worked as a shepherd since he was fourteen, if your memory is accurate.”
You can access my memories?
Blazes, the Book can access my memories. Is there no corner of my mind that is not secure from the Book’s presence?
“I am merely drawing from your recollection of the day you met Jonas, triggered from your inquiry about his suppression. There is no need for such deep probing. Let us not, however, forget why such knowledge is important. Let us draw our attention to Dan. Notice how his hair has lost all of its hue; it is a wiry grey. His voice is very deep and his nose is fleshy from age. With that knowledge in mind, one would suppose that Dan is perhaps in his sixties or seventies. However, a discrepancy arises. Look at his skin. Its form is supple and its wrinkles are light, and it is free of the spots of discoloration that one would expect from the skin of a man of his ripe age. Now, look at his eyes. Notice how clear they are, how vibrant of a blue with which his old irises shine, how rapidly they dart from Jonas to you and back. Why do you suppose that is the case?”
As I more closely observe Dan’s face as he speaks, I can’t help but focus upon his unnervingly blue eyes. Perhaps I noticed unconsciously that there was something out of the ordinary about them, but I didn’t realize what that was. I didn’t even notice his skin until you mentioned it, but I can see how there is a discrepancy there. Dan is apparently in very good health.
“And what else would keep Dan in such good health but his powerful magic? There is no telling how old Dan is. His longevity would explain how he has managed to amass such a great number of books, artifacts, and supplies. Dan may be short on credits, but he is indeed a very wealthy man. Thus, there appears to be a great age difference between Dan and Jonas. There are only two resolutions to this issue. The first is that Jonas and Dan are not cousins. The second is that Jonas is not thirty-one years old. Either, way, Jonas lied to you. Given that knowledge, do you still trust Jonas, even though he has not been honest to you?”
I reflect on the many years I have known Jonas, both as a partner on the farm and as a best friend. Jonas may not be perfectly honest with his words, but he is an honest person.
“Do you still think so, on top of the fact that Jonas has kept so many secrets from you?” the Book counters. “You hardly know anything about his past. Do you not think that it is odd that his supposed ‘cousin,’ despite his great wealth, lives in a slum, doing business with half-bloods and Nether looters?”
Nether looters? What are those?
“Do you not remember the man who visited Dan this morning, wearing chainmail stained with the blood and slime of Nether pigmen? The same man whose boss was notoriously late on his payment?”
Well, I suppose I remember the bald man who was wearing chainmail armor, but I had no idea he was a Nether looter, let alone any idea what a Nether looter actually is.
“Regardless, the important point which I am trying to make is that Dan is a dangerous man who solicits business from dangerous people. If Jonas is as honest as you say he is, he ought not to be associated with that man. But, alas, he is. It doesn’t help either that void magicians and Ender-beings have a notorious history.”
What makes you say that void magicians and Ender-beings have a notorious history?
“Common sense.”
What is that supposed to mean? I bet you pulled that idea out of your non-existent butthole. You’re just saying all of these things to try to make me suspicious of my best friend.
“Do not deny the truth which you see in front of you. It is clear that Jonas and Dan are not trustworthy. If you continue to treat Jonas as your friend, I assure you, you will come to regret your actions.”
Chapter 39: Redstone
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.”
Chapter 40: One Choice
“Fristad, wake up! Now is not the time to let your mind wander; we’re running out of time.”
I gasp for air as my lids swing open. I can feel the Book’s desperate urgency pulling my muscles, begging me to get out of bed, but the weight of tiredness presses against me, tempting my weak body with the sweet ambrosia of perfect sleep. My lids close reflexively. I feel myself fading into the soft clouds of the mattress once again.
“Fristad, you do not need any more sleep. The tiredness you are feeling is from a sleeping potion. Do not give in to it.”
A sleeping potion again? Are you serious?
I focus my willpower upon my arms, forcing them against the mattress and lifting myself forward until my feet land onto the solid floor beside the bed. My balance tilts as my vision is clouded with fog and colorful specks, forcing me to press my hand against the rough stone wall.
Finally the headrush passes its course, but the heavy tiredness remains. I turn right and see Jonas’ cloaked head upon his pillow, lids closed, face calmed with deep sleep.
So Dan really did slip something into my drink. But what about Jonas? Is he alright?
“I do not know what Dan intends to do. However, if he has learned at all from our attempted escape the previous night, then we should expect our current escape to be much more difficult. You cannot let him see you. If he does, you must be prepared to run.”
What about yesterday night, when he drew his sword, and my only choice was to talk? How do I expect to come out unscathed if he can chase after me with void magic and a diamond sword?
“I am done reasoning with that man. You need to get as far away from him as possible, and keep him blind to your presence until he assumes that you are dead and I am forgotten.”
How do you expect that to happen? There’s no telling how long Dan will keep looking for me. And besides, it would take years for Dan to assume that I’m dead.
Or maybe it wouldn’t. I recall the obsidian frame of the great room with nervousness, and picture old textbook illustrations of flaming brimstone, mutilated humanoid pigs, and pale screaming hulks with dread. I would be far from the first to disappear into the Nether. I just hope I make it out of there alive.
“Remember that Dan is of greater concern to us. Now, we must hurry. Find your sword.”
I walk around the bed and towards the bookshelf, where the floor is covered with haphazardly dropped bags and satchels, their leather surfaces cast in shadow by the slanted yellow light of glowstone. I spot my own personal satchel tucked within the left corner. There it is. I bend down and unstrap the buckle which holds the satchel shut, pull the mouth of the satchel apart, and lift the bag towards me. It feels way too light. I peer inside. There doesn’t appear to be anything else in here besides clothes. I reach my hand in. I hope to feel something solid, but all I feel is fabric and leather.
I’m starting to feel worried. I don’t know where my sword is. Come on, Fristad, retrace your steps.
I clench my brow as I try to remember when I last had my sword. I was packing my satchel when Jonas was at my door, and I know I had my sword then because I remember strapping it onto my waste. Where did it go then? I know I still had it when Jonas and I first got to Zomem, because I reached for it when I saw the creeper halfblood. But after that... I don’t remember. How did it disappear all of a sudden? I must have dropped it somewhere.
Of course! My satchel has a side pocket. It must be in there. I reach my hand in, but to my disappointment, my fingers wrap around a wooden handle. It’s just my axe. There’s no way I could defend myself with that. It’s not like I can go all Airlass on those Nether demons.
“You do not need the sword for self-defense. You just need something made of steel so that you can light the portal.”
But how am I supposed to defend myself?
“Your armor will take effect and provide sufficient disguise. Would you please stop asking questions? Every moment spent speculating means Dan is more likely to find us. You must leave now.”
You’re right. We need to go.
I clench my fist around the axe’s cylindrical wooden grip. Tensing my steps as I walk, I sidestep through the doorway of the bedroom and follow the hallway to the stairs. I gently but swiftly place a foot upon each successive step until I finally reach the floor of library shelves. I peer beyond the edge of the leftmost bookcase. Diffuse light glows across the floor. The hidden passageway is open. Should I go inside?
“You don’t have a choice,” the Book warns.
I walk towards the passageway, wary of the silence. Something about those five words causes me to fixate upon them. I know what they mean. I’m prolonging the inevitable. If I stay still, I’m waiting in vain while Dan is more likely to find me. Likewise, if I resist the Book’s words, I fight in vain while the Book’s influence continues to grow on me. However, there is something else about the words which intrigue me. Somehow it reminds me of the dreams that I’ve been having recently.
I’m at the bottom of the steps now, in the study room. I don’t know where Dan is. I would rather not know.
I turn left and begin walking down the long passageway. My heart pumps faster. If there’s any moment that Dan might notice me, it’s during the half a minute that I’m walking down this passageway. I want so much to run, but I’m afraid that I will make too much noise. I just want this passageway to end.
Finally, the obsidian mouth of the great room appears from the right. Suddenly I feel irrationally nervous. I think the ward is starting to kick in. I’m still really tired, too. Jeez, Dan, why won’t you give me a break?
I reach my right hand behind me and pull the flint out of my pocket. I kneel down in front of the obsidian frame and chafe my axe against the flint, creating a yellow spark. The spark falls upon the black rock, igniting more sparks, which dance and jitter erratically across the surface, like water in a hot pan, before dying off. Frustrated, I strike the flint again. Yet more yellow sparks flit across the obsidian before dying, just like my hopes of escape.
Dan would kill me if he saw me doing this. I have to get out of here. I can’t do this anymore. If anything, I’m going to catch myself on fire.
The Book admonishes my words with anger and impatience. “Fristad, you are paranoid from the ward. You must not give up now. Strike the flint closer to the frame.”
I want so badly to leave this awful place, but the Book’s words keep me going. I lower the flint until my knuckles rest upon the ground. I strike the flint sideways with my axe. A yellow spark multiplies and becomes a yellow flame, which turns to white, which turns to silver, which turns to a dark violet. I step back. The flame spreads and expands, climbing up the walls and collapsing in on itself into a wobbling purple membrane.
I can’t wait to leave this place. I step through. The world is now submerged in a purple fog, tipping from side to side, gradually tilting ever more so each time, until the upper floors of the obsidian room become a twisted mess of broken reality. The jerking motion gives me terrible nausea. Suddenly I am thrust forward into an empty space of a grainy blackness, which seems to condense a nervous, pent-up energy within my chest. The pull of space then takes a sharp right, and I feel now as if I am falling, until I find myself standing within another purple fog, surrounded by an oppressive heat. As I wait for the stretched realities to bend back into their original form and I step through the portal, I realize that this place is not the Nether that I have read about in books. I am in a room with stone brick walls, white tiled floor, and a stone ceiling. There are no windows of any kind. In front of me is a hallway leading into a red fog. There are no undead swine grunts or creepy demonic moans, only silence.
An unavoidable fear explodes inside of me, forcing me to run forward, heart pounding, breaths heavy, away from the portal, away from the ward. Then I feel a freezing chill. It begins at my toes and works its way upward, melding a rock-like stiffness into my joints. I feel the workings of my heart and my lungs turn silent, then finally the red fog of the Nether becomes a bright white light.
Chapter 41: Arbiter of the Flame
The echo of my clanking boots against the white tiled floor slows steadily. The irrational fear dilutes with each meter I distance myself from my former prison, the obsidian room, Dan’s cursed abode. I feel glorious relief as I am finally able to ground myself upon my two feet. I look behind me.
The faraway portal’s glow dimly stains the red fog with a purple hue. The white tiles on the floor of the corridor are worn down to their grout, and are sunken from the weight of perhaps countless feet. The stone brick walls of the corridor are corrugated with countless side passages, although I wouldn’t dare explore any passage so close to that terrible portal. Lines of dimly lit torches adorn the long walls, most no more than glowing embers, others burnt out completely. I suppose even a crafted torch cannot burn forever.
I turn the other way. This side of the corridor also fades into the red fog, however there is no end in sight. I might as well start searching the side passages for a way out.
I walk towards the nearest passage on my right and enter it. It seems as if this passage is identical to the first; the same worn white tiles pattern the floor; the same fading torches hang upon the walls; the same side passages indent into the stone bricks. Does this maze of passages even end?
I suppose the only way for me to find out is to move forward. I will surely become lost.
Many dying torches pass by. The corridor gradually stretches into a spacious hall. Walls of torches on the walls give way to a lane of glowstone on the floor. Obsidian bricks begin to intertwine in a spiral pattern with the stone bricks, before smoothly transitioning to pure obsidian. The red fog recedes.
The hall opens up into a grand room with eight walls, every other wall leading to another passageway. In the center is a stone statue of two elegantly posed figures, larger than life, engaged in what appears to be a fight to the death. One figure, adorned with lapis lazuli, stands tall, leaning forward with pride as they hold their sword up against the other figure’s arm. The other figure, adorned with white marble, leans back with knees bent, one fist clenched against the floor while the other fist clenches a pickaxe which digs into the shoulder of the figure standing over them. The eyes of the figure adorned with lapis are neither angry nor afraid; indeed, they are not focused on the other figure at all, but are instead pointed skyward. Curious, I follow the lapis figure’s eyes up to the ceiling, where a diamond-eyed face stares down brooding, their head surrounded with etchings of the sun’s rays, which are in turn surrounded by a sea of stars and clouds carved elegantly into a dome relief.
I approach the statue and notice a rusted placard at its base. I bend down to read it...
“Behold! The Twin Titans fight their final battle, and the Arbiter of Good shall be the victor. All followers of the Arbiter of Good shall be in forth-life blessed by the Watcher, whilst all followers of the Arbiter of Evil shall be in forth-life cursed. Our kingdom is the kingdom of the Arbiter of Good.”
What a beautiful, impossible fantasy! If only life were as black and white as the idealistic fight between good and evil, my troubles would be so much simpler, yet no Stephen-Herobrine story can explain what brought me here.
I walk past the statue, towards the hallway on the other side. I walk briskly for several minutes, then stop at an arbitrary intersection and take a left. I should try to head in some direction that’s unpredictable.
------------
I finally approach the end of another white-tiled corridor, where another, larger Nether portal rests. I can hear trapped gasses hissing and groaning as the purple plasma swirls.
I step onto the obsidian frame and brace myself as the world twists and folds into confusion. I am thrust into a blackness and jerked out of it with ungraceful haste.
I feel in front of me with my foot until I find solid ground, and step out into this unknown place.
There is no red fog here, only the light from the dying embers of ancient torches, so it is comparatively dark, but no trouble for my skeleton eyes...
The light goes dark. I compulsively gasp for air. I can feel my heart beat again.
...I guess I spoke too soon. But why would I change back now, when I need to be a skeleton in order to see?
The Book reaches out impatiently. “I cannot control the transformation. It was in the armor’s nature to change you back. We must light our path by other means. Give me your arm.”
What do you mean? You don’t have any hands.
“I said give it to me!”
I feel my left arm turn numb. An electrifying, searing heat spreads down from my shoulder to my palm, until the unbearable fever in my arm compels me to twist and contract the limb into an upright position. My palm is consumed in a white flash, which implodes into a violet fire.
I fixate upon my burning palm, and all I feel is fear. The Book can control the limbs of my body. It can make me harness the energy of the void, even though I’ve never cast a single spell in my life...
...unless I’m mistaken. What if I’ve already learned how to use magic, but I don’t remember, because the Book has altered my memories? The Book was able to make me craft armor in my sleep; what else has it made me do?
“Now, now, Fristad. The flame you see before you is merely a light source. There is nothing to fear.”
I feel the panic fade. The echo of the Book’s words soothe me. It’s right. I have nothing to fear. The Book is just trying to help me escape.
I scan my eyes across the room, now cast in a purple glow. It is roughly the same size as the room from which I came. The ceiling and walls are made of stone bricks, while the floor is covered with wood planks. There is only one way out, a corridor straight ahead.
My arm stings painfully with the heat of the void. I can’t endure this fever much longer. I slide my axe into my empty sword sheathe, walk towards the wall, and lift a smoldering torch from its metal hold. I bring my burning palm towards the dying embers, but the violet flame flees backward like a flying snipe, away from the torch. The fever in my arm doesn’t ebb at all, even though the flame is now suspended in the air beside me. I grimace with annoyance. What gives? I was trying to light a torch.
“Void fire does not behave the way you think it does, Fristad. If you were to light that torch with the flame in your hand, it would not burn steadily, but quickly disintegrate into nothingness. You must light the torch with flint and steel.”
I sigh, drained by the persistent pain but eager to get rid of it. I set the torch down onto the ground, pull out my axe, and remove the flint rock from my back pocket with my sore left hand. I strike the blade upon the flint’s edge, releasing a spark, which misses the torch entirely. I lean in closer and strike the flint again. The spark misses again, this time on the other side of the torch. I groan. Once more I strike the flint. The spark lands too low and scorches the wooden handle. Good riddance. Where will the spark land next? Above the torch?
My throbbing arm reminds me of its crisis. I don’t care about accuracy at this point. I graze the flint back and forth against the blade, releasing a flurry of sparks above the torch. A flame finally catches on the tip of the ember. I drop to my knees as fast as I can and blow gently upon the baby flame, until the ember glows white. I tilt the torch upright and feel the pain in my arm weaken as the torchlight grows. Finally, a real flame!
I collect my flint into my pocket and my axe into my hand, then I grasp the torch and stand up. The heat of the torch-fire breathes against my face, reminding me of how my thick leather armor indiscriminately traps the heat near my skin. At least it will keep me safe from whatever monsters hide down here.
I walk forward into the only corridor, glancing cautiously at each shadow to verify that it stays still between the dips in the flickering light. I pray that one shadow does not split into two, revealing an animate figure which lunges at my heart. Despite my hunch, each wavering shadow remains its sole, fickle self: dark, intangible, and unknowable. I want to kill them, but I can’t. At least I can kill a monster.
The corridor ends at a great passageway, as tall as it is wide. There is a gentle draft now. The air smells of putrefied feces and mildew. I bite my tongue as I fight my urge to gag. I stand still for a moment to take in my surroundings.
This place is a mess. There are great masses of trashed wood and unidentifiable, broken machines. Some of the stone columns are cut in half, hanging like stalactites from the ceiling while their lower halves are shattered and misplaced. Miniscule cracks in the ceiling project dim lines of light upon the drab brick walls.
Something is terribly wrong.
My spine tingles as I hear a faint creaking sound. Something is drawing a bow. I turn to the sound and see a figure clad in steel, with long, red hair hanging down from her helmet. The flint tip of her arrow gleams threateningly as she points it towards me, most likely at my neck.
“Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!” I raise my palms in front of my face.
“Why shouldn’t I?” the woman steadies her bow for a better grip. “How do I know you aren’t just saying that to lower my guard, so you can land the first strike?”
“I’m not a threat to you. How do I convince you of that? Can you be reasoned with?” I plead.
“Depends,” she broods. “Are you a Nether looter?”
“No.” I’m not even sure what a Nether looter is.
“Do you work for the government?”
“No.”
“Is someone looking for you?”
“No,” I lie.
“Do you owe anyone money?”
“No.”
“Then I suppose I can be reasoned with. Explain to me why I shouldn’t kill you.”
“I’m only here because I’m lost and I don’t want to kill you.”
“Yea, right,” the woman scoffs. “You aren’t lost. No sane Minecraftian accidentally wanders into an abandoned city that’s only accessible to the outside world through the Nether. Why are you really here?”
“If by ‘lost,’ you mean ‘unable to find my way back,’ then yes, I am very lost. What else do you expect me to say?”
“That’s not the same as wandering into the Nether on accident. You are clearly here for a reason. What is it?”
“I... I don’t know,” I confess.
She doesn’t respond. Her bow remains drawn.
The two of us stand still for an awkwardly long length of time. I don’t want to move, because I’m afraid that she will fire her bow. At the same time, she might grow impatient and shoot me anyway, unless I say something to her... but I don’t have a coherent story to tell her that isn’t the truth. Maybe I could try saying something vague, and then she could help me fill in the gaps.
“There was a certain... occasion.”
Gosh that sounds ridiculous. I really am a terrible liar.
“What sort of occasion?”
“I was at a party.”
“Let me guess: you had a lapse of judgment and decided it might be fun to elope in the underworld?”
I shrug. “Pretty much.”
“That makes absolutely no sense.”
Notch smite it. She doesn’t believe me.
I hear the bow creak. “I almost feel sorry for killing you.”
The Book’s voice rings loudly in my head. “I am tired of your terrible lies! I will not let you perish at the end of this stranger’s arrow. It is time that we show the world what we are truly capable of. Look into her eyes, and tell her the words that you want her to believe.”
The excruciating fever returns, stronger than before. This time, it permeates my entire body, but the fever is most strong within my head. My thoughts become restless. I lift my vision to the stranger’s green eyes, which rest upon darkly freckled cheeks. I can almost swear I see fireflies behind her irises, shining like fleeting memories.
“I am not a threat to you,” I insist. “You don’t have to kill me.”
The fireflies clump into a swarm and flit about wildly, as if agitated. What is going on? Is she thinking?
She continues to stand still, with her bow drawn. The fireflies disappear. The fever fades.
She lowers her bow and grins mischievously. “Why would I want to kill you? You’re clearly not a threat to me.”
“I thought you just said you wanted to kill me.” Now I’m confused. Did I really influence her judgment, or was she joking?
“Well then, I must have had a... lapse of judgment.” She winks.
“What about my crazy party story?”
“I’d rather not know the details. Keep it to yourself. Say, do you have a few minutes to spare? It’s not every day that someone comes down here who doesn’t have bizarre ulterior motives and doesn’t have dangerous people following them.”
“Sure, why not?”
Chapter 42: The Perfect Experiment
I follow the armored bow-wielder into a small passage on the other side of the great, dilapidated passageway. The cavernous shadows pull back reluctantly from the light of my flickering torch.
I should have said no. I should have just left the woman alone, but there was just too much to gain. She could have food... or supplies... or knowledge of how to get out of this place. There is another reason why I want to follow her, but I don’t know how to describe it. Somehow, the sight of the fireflies in her eyes was... beautiful. I want to see the glowing creatures again, to watch them flit around, to watch them coalesce with each utterance that slides from my tongue...
I just hope that those fireflies aren’t what I think they are.
I want so much to believe that my newfound power isn’t real. If I let it sink in that I am capable of controlling minds, I know that knowledge will change me.
...for the better.
A tiny voice echoes inside of me, a piece of my consciousness I have tried so hard to suppress over the many years of my life. It cries for freedom, for happiness, for greatness. It wants me to climb above the mundane, crowded rat’s nest that is humanity. It offers me the missing piece of truth that I have always yearned for.
...but I know it’s wrong. Why would I ever think those things?
“Here we go,” the girl announces as she pushes aside a wooden pallet, revealing a dreamy red glow beneath the shadows. She walks inside.
I follow her into the same passageway... or should I say room. What is this place? There are flaming furnaces along the wall... and chests and workbenches... and what is that rolled-up sack hanging on the back wall, with fabric draped over it? Is that a sleeping bag?
“Is there a problem?” She asks, looking back at me.
“No, I’m fine.”
“You seem a bit surprised at my standard of living.”
“That’s not at all what I was thinking... wait, you actually live down here?”
“I guess you wouldn’t expect that, since it’s underground and it smells like sewage,” she notes in a relatively monotone voice.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just–”
“It’s fine. I can tell you’re not from around here.”
That stung. I don’t like being called a clueless foreigner.
The Book interrupts my stream of thought, “Fristad, focus! Do you realize the gravity of this situation? Every second you wear that enchanted armor, Dan comes closer to finding you. The armor must be destroyed.”
Are you crazy? I can’t destroy this armor; it is irreplaceable! There has to be some other way...
“The alternative is that Dan finds you and imprisons you, so that he may torment you with his spells as he pleases. Surely you do not want this?”
I can’t let him do that again. I’ve already tried so hard to escape... but I don’t want to burn in the sunlight, either.
“Hey, would you mind turning over some coals in the furnace right next to you?” The girl asks as she reaches into a live furnace with her blade.
“Umm... no problem,” I reply, groggy and half-aware.
“What perfect timing,” the Book remarks. “You can dispose of your armor in the furnace.”
There’s no way I’m going to do that.
“You must do it.”
The heat of the furnace nips threateningly at my approaching hand. I turn the furnace door’s rusted knob, and the door swings open, revealing white-tongued flames dancing among glowing coals. On the shelf above them is an orange-tinged, molten metal, thick like magma, its shape jittering beneath the smoke.
I turn towards the black stake hanging on the back wall. I lift my foot, but I feel my body hesitate. An urgent need floods my muscles. A familiar sensation overcomes me, the restlessness of a waking dream. I recall standing in front of the crafting bench, watching the bone and leather coalesce into boots. I hated crafting that armor, but then I learned to love it. Now the Book is taking it away from me.
I feel hard stone beneath my sweaty feet. I watch my beloved boots curl and blacken within the flames. My fingers crawl underneath the straps of my helmet. My arms release it like a catapult. Next goes the chestpiece...
“What in the Nether are you doing?” The girl kicks the furnace shut and stands in front of me. “That was perfectly good armor.”
“Exactly!”
“If you knew it was so valuable, then why did you burn it?”
“I don’t know...” or maybe I do. Somehow my mind feels clearer now, as if some draining influence on my mind has been lifted. “Actually, I think the armor may have been cursed.”
“What do you mean, ‘cursed’?”
“Cursed like in that one story... I forget what it’s called. Thieves keep sneaking into a dungeon to find some priceless amulet, but none of them make it out alive.”
“I don’t know what that story is, but I’m pretty sure your armor isn’t cursed. Look, if you really don’t want your armor, can you at least let me have what’s left of it?”
“Trust me, you don’t want this armor,” I insist.
“Why not? It’s enchanted, right?”
“Well, the problem with the enchantment is that...” I cut myself short. I can’t tell her about the skeleton transformation, or she might want to kill me again.
“What enchantment is it?” Her brow furrows with worry.
“Knockback.”
An awkward minute of silence passes. Then the girl’s eyes widen.
“Okay, I don’t want it,” she mutters rapidly. She steps aside. “If it’s really cursed, then you should get rid of it. I’m sorry; I have trust issues.”
“I’ve noticed.”
I swing open the furnace door and throw my chestpiece onto the hot coals. Gosh, am I glad to be rid of that stuffy armor. I unstrap my leg armor and throw it on top of the chestpiece. The mass of leather and bone shrinks and blackens as the fire consumes them. Then, out of nowhere, white smoke rises up from beneath the coals, and the blackened mass sinks into it just like a slain mob sinks into the earth.
I lift my brows in surprise. “I did not expect that.” That was a bit creepy.
“Expect what? What happened?”
“The armor disappeared in a cloud of white smoke. It’s completely gone. See for yourself.” I step back.
The armored girl kneels down in front of the furnace and peers inside. “Yeeep. Definitely cursed.” She sifts through the coals with her sword. “Where the heck did it goo...? Ooooo...” She makes spooky ghost sounds.
“Hopefully into the void, where it will never be seen again.”
“No, it most likely went into the Red Aether.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s the place where dead things go. It’s also the place where miners store all of their junk.”
“That’s interesting. I wonder why I’ve never heard of it before.”
The girl swings the furnace closed. “That’s because you’re not a miner.” She smirks, leaning against the furnace as she sits down.
“And I’m guessing you are a miner?”
“Ex-miner,” she corrects me.
“Why aren’t you a miner anymore?”
She crosses her arms and legs. “I’m not much of a miner without my crew. Most of my crew died in a cave-in three years back. After that, everyone moved on. It just wasn’t the same.”
“That’s awful. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. They were miners, after all. They respawned with their memories intact... well, almost.”
“Why then did everyone leave if they still had their memories?”
“It was a huge setback. We lost a lot of resources. It wasn’t the first time we had a cave-in, either. Zomem’s ancient tunnels are so unstable. Even the deepest caves can feel the strain of their collapse. At some point, everyone decided the payout wasn’t worth it.”
“Why did you stay, then?”
“There has to be something in these ruins worth searching for. Priceless artifacts, maybe. The best part is that if I find them, I don’t have to share the profits.”
“So you work alone?”
“You bet.”
She’s... alone. She’s vulnerable. I could influence her to do my bidding, and no one would be the wiser. Sure, she’s a miner, but even a miner couldn’t resist the silver fire of the void. It’s the perfect experiment.
Chapter 43: Stupid Decisions
After another moment of silence, the girl stands up abruptly. “Well, that was fun. It’s been a while since I’ve told a good story. I have stuff to do, though, so if you don’t mind...”
“Wait, hold on! You’ve just told me a story about your life, but I don’t even know your name.”
“Umm...” she hesitates, “Brittany.”
“Brittany...” I taste the name on my tongue. Does the knowledge of her name give me power over her, or will it make me more self-conscious about controlling her?
“And you are...?”
“Colby,” I respond quickly.
“Nice to meet you, Colby. Look, I’d love to talk more, but I’ve got things to do, so if it’s alright with you...”
“Wait! I need you to do me a favor.” A warmth inside me begins to rise. Fleeting, glowing dots begin to shine through Brittany’s eyes. I need to start with something small, something harmless. “I need you to sit down.”
“What... why?” Brittany says as she sits down, her eyes squinting with confusion.
So far so good. “Now stand on your knees.”
She leans forward and stands on her knees.
“Now stand on one foot.”
She stands up and lifts her left shin into her hand. Her facial expression becomes relaxed, as if in deep thought.
“Now jump five times.”
She jumps on one foot. Her metal armor clanks loudly from the impact.
I burst out laughing.
The Book projects impatience. “Fristad, that’s enough. You have confirmed that you are able to control her, but now you need to prepare yourself for the journey.”
Are you kidding? The best part of having power is making stupid decisions, without any consequences. Let me have my laugh!
“Great,” I say, “Now sing the Standard Alphabet.”
“Eee, Oh, Ah; Iye, Ooo, Uy; Wu, Ur, El; En, Em, Na. Aych, Jay, Fay, Say, Vay. Po, Bo; Ga, Da. Ze, Qway, Kay and lastly Tay,” Brittany recites as she stands on one foot.
The fireflies in her eyes swarm about wildly, fading in and out of existence. I wonder if there’s a way for me to see them more clearly, so I can understand what they mean. I fixate upon them. The fever grows, and the depth of the swarm expands farther into her irises, like a mysterious mirror dimension. I begin to see vine-like patterns in the growing swarm.
“Now sing it again, this time while hopping on one foot,” I command.
Brittney hops on one foot while singing.
Hold on... why am I doing this? And what is with that man’s eyes? They’re glowing! My heart skips a beat as I avert my gaze. Those weren’t my thoughts.
The Book becomes nervous. “Something’s wrong. Only a few minutes have passed, and yet she’s already starting to question our authority. You need to hide your influence. Ask her why she’s acting strangely and tell her you saw a flash of light coming from the furnace. Then, without using magic, ask her for as much supplies as you can, and leave this place for good.”
Got it. “Woah, did you see that flash of light coming from the furnace that’s right behind you? Also, what in Notch’s name are you doing?” I ask.
Brittany puts her foot down, and her eyes widen. The fireflies fade away. “I did! I saw the light reflecting in your eyes. Weird, huh?” She stares down at the furnace behind her. “The fumes from the cursed armor must be making me looney. Maybe I should take a break from smelting for a while.”
The Book observes with approval. “Wonderful job.”
Thanks. I thought the expletive was a nice touch.
“Sounds like a good idea...” I say to Brittany, about to change the subject. “Look, I don’t want to take away from your time, but I really do need supplies if I’m going to make it out of here alive.”
“How long did it take you to get in here?” Brittany raises an eyebrow.
“A few days,” I lie, hoping it would allow me to get extra supplies.
She leans her head back and emits a boisterous laugh. “What convoluted passage did you take? I know Nether passages that could get you out in a few hours! But I will humor you. What do you want?”
“Some food, some water, an iron sword, and some armor.”
“Food and water I can give you, although I’m afraid I don’t have much iron to spare. I’ll tell you what: help me craft and run the furnaces for the next few days, and I’ll make you a sword and some passable armor. Deal?”
“Deal,” I reply.
Brittany holds out her arm, and we shake hands.
------------
I stretch my sore knees onto Brittany’s spare blankets, sweaty and exhausted from the day’s work. Most of the exertion came from bending over and kindling furnaces, but a surprising amount came from crafting. As I’ve recently learned, crafting recipes do actually have a small energy cost associated with them, but it’s only noticeable if you craft a lot of things at once. Crafting all those tools and buckets made my wrists feel numb.
The roaring furnace fires have reduced to a subtle glow. Brittany lays within her sleeping bag, inspecting a glowing redstone gem in her hand, as wide as the bridge of her thumb is thick. Her bow, quiver, and sword lay behind her. To her side lie two deep wooden bowls stacked together, emptied of mushroom soup. I could barely empty one.
“Brittany, do you mind if I ask you one last question?” I ask.
“Sure.”
“Why aren’t there any monsters down here, even though it’s so dark?”
“What are you talking about? Of course there are monsters down here. I’m surprised you haven’t seen any.”
“Oh...” I reply.
I hold my breath for a moment and listen for the sound of footsteps, but I don’t hear any. If there really are monsters out there, that would mean that the only thing separating them from our bedsides is that thin wooden pallet at the end of the room.
“Do you mind if I ask you one last question?” Brittany adds.
“Fine with me.”
“Is there something bothering you?”
“What do you mean?”
Brittany presses her elbow against the ground and rests her head on her hand. “There’s something in your eyes. Somehow, when I look at them, they make me feel nervous.”
“I wouldn’t say I feel nervous, if that’s what you mean.”
I turn over onto my side and pull the blankets over me. Sleeping on this hard stone floor isn’t so comfortable, but it’s better than standing.
“Good night,” I yawn.
“Good night, Colby.”
If I wasn’t so tired, I would have asked Brittany a lot more questions.
I close my eyes and feel the tiredness of my limbs drag my mind into dark clouds. Even the hard ground cannot stave off my sleep. I begin to feel my senses fading, but one stray question jolts my mind awake.
What did Brittany see in my eyes?
Chapter 44: Encounter
A painful pressure on my chest pulls me abruptly out of sleep. A cold, snuffling nose brushes against my cheek. A tongue presses eagerly against my face, coating it in sticky, filthy slobber. I try to sit up, but another leg pushes against my chest. I turn my head to the side and try to cover my face with my arm. The dog proceeds to thoroughly lick the inside of my ear. I push its muzzle away.
Footsteps echo from the hallway. A harsh light illuminates the dark room, scorching my eyes. A sleeping bag shuffles. A bow creaks.
Before Jonas finishes saying “Thank Notch,” I hear the snap of a launched arrow.
The dog jumps off of me and starts to growl. I hear a bone-crushing thump. The dog squeals.
I sit up.
“Stay down! Let me handle this!” orders Brittany. She pulls back her bow. Another arrow wizzes off. Jonas cries out.
The light begins to fade. I turn towards the doorway and see the tail of Jonas’ brown cloak disappear behind the wall. Brittany sprints toward the doorway.
“Stop, please! He’s my friend,” I cry as I spring off the ground and onto my toes.
Brittany halts at the corner of the wall. She holds her sword ready. Her other hand clutches arrows and a bow. “You must be joking.”
“I’m serious!”
She turns her head toward me and stares me down with squinted eyes. “I thought you said nobody was following you.”
“This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Brittany lets out a deep sigh. “Go talk some sense into the halfblood so he doesn’t come back and try to kill me.”
I nod and run into the hallway. I follow the fading light around a corner. “Jonas, it’s okay! I told her you aren’t a threat.”
Jonas’ cloak settles as he halts his run. He turns around, revealing an arrow lodged beneath his cloak, clinging to the center of his chest. His right jaw oozes blood. He bends over, sets down a yellow-glowing lantern onto the ground, and yanks out the arrow from his chest. He drops the arrow onto the floor. Silver metal glints faintly from beneath the collar of his cloak. “She’s certainly a threat to me.”
“Oh Notch, she could have killed you!” I cry out, seeing how accurately the arrows struck.
“I thought you were dead...” Jonas chokes up. “What were you thinking, running into the Nether like that?”
“The Book made me do it.” I pick up the arrow on the ground and brush its tip with the flesh of my thumb. It’s still sharp. I feel the Book watching... hoping... wanting... “It wanted me to escape. It made me burn my armor, too, just so Dan couldn’t find me.”
“It made you get rid of your only defense...” Jonas shakes his head. “This is the second time the book has put your life at risk. What was I thinking? I was so selfish. I should have used my powers to help you.”
“It’s been a long day.” I lean forward and spread my arms for a hug.
We embrace each other and pat each other on the back.
I clench the arrow tight and aim it at Jonas’ neck. Jonas grabs my wrist and tries to push it away. Our arms are in deadlock.
Jonas’ violet irises look deep into mine. “Fristad would never do this.”
The more I stare into his eyes, the more alien they become. I feel myself pressing harder, augmented with growing hatred. “I would never kill Jonas, but you... you are a monster.”
The light suddenly switches off. I realize I’ve lost control. A terrible heat submerges me. I try to pierce through it, to try to stop the Book from killing my best friend.
“Don’t kill Jonas!” I cry out. The light fades back in. I drop the arrow and run backwards. I pull the axe from my belt and the Book from my back pocket. I have to destroy the Book, no matter what it takes.
“Please do not kill me,” the Book pleads. “I am a better friend than Jonas will ever be. How can you trust Jonas over me when Jonas lied to you? He even admitted he was selfish. When given a choice between helping you and helping himself, he helped himself! Is that the kind of friend that you want to keep?”
I refuse to listen to you any longer. I throw the Book down, lift the axe above my head, and swing down upon the binding of the Book. A sharp pain slices through my abdomen. I feel the urge to cry out in pain, but my voice is silent. The light shivers and distorts until I am drifting in a sea of bubbles. The world twists again, and I see a humanoid figure standing in front of me, its form covered with pages of text. Its arm holds an axe whose blade is embedded into my gut. The figure places its palm gently upon my chest.
I feel my memories begin to break apart. I try to bring together the pieces, but I am drowning in them...
just finished chapter 35 all i gotta say is just wow! it totally keeps you guessing the whole time! i love your work keep it up, i cant wait to see how this all unfolds!
just finished chapter 35 all i gotta say is just wow! it totally keeps you guessing the whole time! i love your work keep it up, i cant wait to see how this all unfolds!
I am thinking that Dan is the mage in fristads dreams, i have a pretty good feeling. Dan just rejects the idea to cover his own secrets. But also that he could be controlling the book as well because it seems Dan has his own intentions to controlling fristad. Just a guess could easily be wrong
Chapter 37, Impasse, has just been uploaded! What will Dan do with his new-found knowledge? What will Fristad make of what he has seen? Will this new chapter even attempt to answer these hypothetical questions? Read more to find out!
Chapter 38, Seeds of Doubt, has just been uploaded! Why so many secrets? Is "common sense" at work here... or deceit? Or are we just really confused here?
Chapter 39: Redstone, has just been uploaded! This chapter is somewhat of a mosaic in terms of structure.
Edit: Oh, and I should probably mention that caanigan inspired the new poll. His speculation made me dreadfully curious.
At times like these I wish I could read my readers' minds,
But alas, I cannot.
Woe is the maker who knows not what they are doing,
Yet equal woe is the maker who fixates on this fact,
For paranoia is the vaccine to creativity,
And planning is the boon to idleness,
So I should probably stop writing this poem.
Chapter 40: One Choice, has just been saved in my text editor, copied and pasted into the web browser, and submitted as part of an edited post, into the Minecraftforums post database.
In other words, a new chapter is up!
However, there is something else about the words which intrigue me. Somehow it reminds me of the dreams that I’ve been having recently.
Chapter 41, Arbiter of the Flame, has just been uploaded! It is a slightly longer chapter because I wanted something more satisfying.
I... have a feeling this chapter might make people speculate.
I'm also getting closer to a point in the story that I've been looking forward to writing for a long time. I don't want to set anyone's expectations unrealistically high, but I'm too excited to not admit that I'm excited.
And after that point in the story... I have almost no idea what to write next. XD That is aside from very, very tentative plans for the ending, which seem to grow more distant the more I write this behemoth of a story. Considering how much my story has changed from my original plans (in short, a thoughtcanon of an impossibly complex shapeshifting and cognitohazard mod (very different from the actual story)), I imagine the story will work itself out. In short, I know what I'm going to write next, but I have absolutely NO IDEA how the story will end.
This... Has to be the best MC fan fiction i have EVER read! Great job! Maybe you should look into sending it to a legit publishing company :3
This.... really made my day Thank you.
Unfortunately I don't think a legit publishing company would be receptive to a fanfiction, although self-publishing is definitely on my "list of things to consider doing in the distant future."
Also, there's a very useful edit button at the bottom of your posts. It's a bit buggy right now because the save button finalizes the edit but doesn't close the edit box, so you'll have to refresh the page to see the changes (at least in Firefox 28, which I used to write this), but it still works fine.
I just finished reading chapter 1. All I can say is that you are the Hitchcock of Minfics. It has everything I'm looking for in one. Suspense, mystery, psychological semi-horror, action, mystery, great characters, character development, great descriptions, an outstanding concept and a wonderful plot. Plus you don't have to take 2000 words to have a conversation take place like I do . It's flawless. Easily my favourite Minefic.
If you could take a second to even contemplate giving me some feedback on my work I'd be honoured.
I just finished reading chapter 1. All I can say is that you are the Hitchcock of Minfics. It has everything I'm looking for in one. Suspense, mystery, psychological semi-horror, action, mystery, great characters, character development, great descriptions, an outstanding concept and a wonderful plot. Plus you don't have to take 2000 words to have a conversation take place like I do . It's flawless. Easily my favourite Minefic.
If you could take a second to even contemplate giving me some feedback on my work I'd be honoured.
Wow! I mean... wow! I am so glad you like it. Hitchcock is quite the comparison.
(;
Edit: I fixed a glaring error with Chapter 41 involving a certain sword that should not exist in a certain time and place. Chapter 42 is coming along... slowly...
Chapter 42: The Perfect Experiment is now up! Grandpa Seth is telling you! It's been how many months since I've uploaded a new chapter? Sheesh. Events are moving more slowly than I expected, too.
That's a really long text file. I checked here after seeing you'd posted a new chapter and I'll try to read it later if I have time.
Pssst...I also made a pyramid for the votes like Mage...
Vote (8)
Vote Vote Vote (9)
Vote Vote Vote Vote Vote (10)
Omg.
I'm glad you enjoyed it! But seriously...
You... read everything I've written so far... all in one sitting? O_O How long did it take?
My jaw clenches in response to the Book’s enraging words. We have to do something!
Before I hear the Book’s response, Jonas begins to speak.
“How is that even possible?” Jonas wonders, laying his book and his arms down upon the table. “Humans and the void... they just don’t mix.”
“I am a living exception of that,” Dan replies, “and, in a way, you are too. Of course, we are very unusual people. Perhaps the book is an unusual case.”
“It isn’t exactly unusual for any human to survive in the deep void for thousands of years. Even a void magician like you couldn’t survive for long. Plus, an ender-born like me can’t be harmed by the void in the first place, which wouldn’t make sense if the book felt any pain...” Jonas’ brow sinks as he begins to think. “...but that’s out of the question, since an Ender Born isn’t truly human to begin with.”
“I agree, it seems preposterous that a human could be able to survive in the void for that long, but on the other hand, the same could be said for almost any other living thing. All I know is what I’ve learned from the spells that I’ve used, which seems to suggest strongly that the book is human. Magic works in strange and sometimes poorly understood ways, so I wouldn’t rule anything out.”
“I suppose you’re right; I just wish there was a better explanation, something that we already understood.” Jonas’ voice tapers off with his train of thought.
Dan shrugs. “I am not certain that that will be the case. I will just have to do some more tests, and hopefully the book’s existence will make more sense by then. On the other hand, perhaps I’ve assumed something that I shouldn’t have. I have no way to know that the book was in the void for as long as it said it was. That would explain a lot, actually.” Dan rubs his fingers on either side of his head. “Still, that doesn’t explain how it found its way into the deep void... Forget it; I’m rambling. We’ll all think clearer after some lunch.” Dan’s lids rise in sudden realization. “Oh dear, I forgot about the potions!”
Dan turns around and leaves, his hasty steps echoing upon the solid stone floor until they finally fade away. The Book projects a sense of urgency and restlessness.
“I think I better check on what Dan is up to,” I nod towards Jonas.
Jonas glimpses at me with a fleeting moment of confusion, but then reciprocates a nod, picking up his book once more.
I jerk away from the table and walk with short, swift steps into the hall, past the middle room with the desk and bookcases, hurried but confused as to why. What is happening? Why am I following Dan?
“You need to search the obsidian room before the ward returns,” says the Book. “If my suspicions about its design are correct, it should have something that we need in order to escape.”
What is in the obsidian room that we need so badly?
“Do not think the slightest thought about it now. The events will unfold themselves later. Walk faster, you sloth! This may be our only chance to get what we need. If Dan sees you searching for it, he will know too much, and you are far too terrible of a liar to make up for it.”
I feel my legs push harder upon the stone floor. My increasing pace reminds me of when I fled the spring fields of the cottage in the dream. My efforts are futile, aren't they?
I look up and see the turn in the hallway approaching closer, perhaps only fifteen meters away now. Five meters. I slow down my quick-crashing steps and tense my movements, feeling slowly for the hard stone beneath my feet. I lean my head beyond the edge of the right wall before stepping softly into the great obsidian room. As I turn my head from left to right, I feel my heart stutter in panic as I spot Dan walking up the stone brick stairs, five floors below me. I crouch down as fast as I can, wincing as I hear the wood creak slightly beneath me.
I can already tell that this is a bad idea.
“There is no time to hesitate. Search the chests.”
I crouch-walk towards the wall of chests on the right, away from the staircase. As I approach closer, I notice that the chests are held in place by pale wooden frames.
I approach the chest in the bottom right corner, grip the cool wood with both hands, and open it slowly. Its hinges whistle softly, but it makes no other sound, to my relief. Inside the chest are layers of folded leather with string tied around them, as if there is something inside of them. On top of the folded leather is a metal canteen, a compass, and folded paper, most likely maps.
“That is not quite what we are looking for. Try another chest.”
Why would Dan keep travel supplies in here, of all places? Perhaps this large room is also good for storage. I close the chest slowly, then sidestep to my left. This chest is closer to the edge of this floor. I glance to my left, where four levels of wooden flooring are visible on the far side of the wall. I don’t see Dan; maybe he's on the other side. I turn my head forward again. As I reach towards the lid of the chest, I feel a slight breeze on my hands. Was that a draft? I bend my head forward towards a gap in the wooden frame. It’s too dark to see behind it. I reach my hand towards the gap, but pull it back quickly as I feel the Book observing me.
“Fristad, snap out of it! You need to search the chest.”
I lift the lid of the chest. Inside is a pile of rocks of various colors.
“Perfect,” the Book coos with satisfaction. “All we need is a small piece of flint. Take it.”
I pick up one of the murky grey rocks and close the chest. I can’t help but smile with satisfaction. We did it. I turn around and gingerly crouch-walk towards the mouth of the exit before standing up again. As I walk down the hall, I slip the piece of flint into my left back pocket. In my mind’s eye, I briefly remember the unusual composition of the mouth of the room: obsidian on all sides, even the bottom. My grin sinks as I realize that I am about to go to a terrible place.
Then I hear someone else’s footsteps mirroring mine; I glance behind me and my muscles freeze instinctively as I see Dan walking towards me. Did he hear my footsteps? What if he suspects something?
Dan’s unnervingly blue eyes widen as he abruptly stops walking. “Oh! Hello, Fristad. You caught me by surprise. What are you doing here?”
“Um... I forgot something.” I struggle to sift through my brain for some excuse for some small, trivial object that I could have left behind, but I can’t think of anything. I think back on the excuse I gave to Jonas for suddenly leaving. “I mean... no. I was just checking up on what you were doing.”
Dan’s brow raises. “You were watching me cork potion bottles?”
Oh no. Dan doesn’t believe me. Why would anyone watch him do something as boring as cork potions? Still, I can’t just tell him that I wasn’t watching him; that would just make me look like more of a liar. I have to pretend like I was watching him.
“I was hoping it would be more interesting than that,” I reason.
Dan bursts into laughter as he leans his head back. He looks back at me with a smile. “Well, I suppose I don’t blame you.”
My muscles relax in relief. Thank Notch that Dan is not suspicious.
------------
I find myself sitting at the kitchen table once again. Jonas sits to my right, Dan sits to my left. In front of each of us is a sandwich made with some of Jonas’ dried pork.
“I apologize for keeping you waiting,” Dan says. “I imagine you are just as starving as I am.”
“No worries, cousin.” Jonas bites into his sandwich.
I begin eating slowly, forced to hesitate as my fears return. Why is it that Dan seems so forgiving? He can’t possibly be so naive that he wouldn’t care that I was in the room with him. Did he leave the kitchen on purpose, to see how I would react?
The Book chimes in. “Regardless of how much Dan knows, our need to escape continues to grow more urgent. You saw the potions he drank to cast those powerful spells. You saw the diamond sword that he had. He could easily kill you if he wanted to.”
But Dan wouldn’t want to kill me, would he? I’m his cousin’s best friend.
“Perhaps you have had too much faith in Jonas.”
I observe Jonas out of the corner of my vision, his glowing eyes barely visible from beneath his hood. What is it about Jonas that makes me so uneasy? There is evil in those eyes. And somehow, despite all the years that I’ve known him as a friend, despite all the years that I’ve grown to trust him, I resent him. I resent his kind. Something about Endermen fills me with hatred, and by extension, Ender-borns. And I don’t know why.
Chapter 36: Trials of the Past
“Are you ready?” Dan asks with a sigh.
“I guess so,” I reply, a bit more nervous than before.
The Book speaks, “Of course we know that every spell that Dan casts on us puts us at a disadvantage, but we have no choice. Our best hope of escaping tonight depends on Dan’s ability to trust you, which in turn depends on your willingness to succumb to his spells.”
Dan ingests his purple potion, and braces himself on the table in pain for a long minute. I then uncork and drink my potion, a yellow one this time, and notice that it tastes slightly sweet. As I drop my empty vial onto the table, Dan begins to recite a spell. His voice fills my ears before growing into a deafening whirlwind of chaos. My vision flashes and pulsates ever more wildly, until the whirlwind of wild shapes consumes me. I feel as if a great deal of time has been erased, and now has yet to pass.
------------
I look around the classroom, trying to find a grain of something familiar. Everyone else seems so happy when they’re talking with each other; why not me? Why do I have to be alone?
I search across the people sitting at each desk, but all of their faces are of strangers. Where is Airlass? She said she would be here.
I look again at the blackboard at the front of the classroom, where the teacher has begun writing with chalk. The excited classroom chatter continues. Who was the teacher’s name again? Thornberry? Wildthorn? Blackthorn? I forgot what it was. It was some sort of Nearlands name with the word “thorn” in it. I heard from Mom that the teacher writes their name on the blackboard when they come to the front of the class. I don’t think I see their name yet.
I pick up my pencil and balance it upon the tips of my fingers. One by one, I lower a finger, until only my index finger touches it. I breathe a deep sigh as I focus upon the pencil, imagining it fixed in place. I lower the last finger, and the pencil follows it, dropping onto the ground, to my disappointment.
A finger taps on my shoulder. As I turn around, I lock with the brown eyes of a strange-yet-charming man. He wears a leather jacket, a fur cap, and a five-o-clock shadow. Between his fingers, he grasps a bronze, five credit bullion. The man flicks the coin into the air and holds his palm out. The coin halts its fall just above his palm, spinning rapidly as it bobs slightly up and down. Then the coin suddenly stops spinning, and then slowly spins the other way, before finally dropping into his hand.
My jaw drops. “That’s a neat trick,” I note with admiration.
The man winks. “Perhaps I will show you some time.”
Then I notice that there are oak trees behind him.
“Hey, I never knew that there were trees in this classroom...”
The dream collapses underneath me as the paradox unravels.
------------
“What did you see?” Dan asks, looking intently at me, realizing before I do that my brows are furrowed in confusion.
I think upon the dream carefully, trying to hold onto the memory, so as not to forget it. Somehow the dream makes me feel nostalgic; it resonates with the blissful feeling of childhood innocence. Not unlike the cottage dream I had last night.
“I was in a classroom when a man tapped on my shoulder and showed me a coin suspended in mid-air.”
“What sort of man?” Dan inquires, confused.
“He looked like a hunter, I think. He was wearing a leather jacket and a fur cap, and looked like he hadn’t shaved in a week. He was also quite charming.”
“Charming? That’s a bit of an odd word to describe another man.”
“I’m just saying that’s what he looked like!” I snap.
“I apologize for judging you. It’s just that... I didn’t realize that you were...” Dan’s voice trails off as he searches for the right word.
“What? No! That’s not how it is at all!”
Dan blinks rapidly. “Okay, okay. Let’s just forget about it then. Still, I’m quite intrigued as to who this man might be. Correct me if I’m wrong: you said that the man was levitating a coin?”
I shrug. “Yes, that’s what happened.”
“Interesting...” Dan clasps his fingers together. “You don’t suppose that this was the same magician in the other vision?”
I shake my head. “No, this man seemed much different. He was friendly. The other man looked like he wanted to kill me.”
“Hmm, interesting...” Dan repeats, in roughly the same even, emotionless voice, as if in deep thought. He pushes himself up from the table. “Alright, let me get you another potion.”
Dan walks over to a shelf on the side of the wall, where all the corked potions are stored. He picks up an opaque yellow potion and a translucent orange potion.
I hear a thump as Dan’s hand places the corked glass vial in front of me. I grasp the vial and uncork it, then wait for Dan to sit down.
“Are you ready?” Dan’s eyes are glued upon the tome as he fingers through the sliver-thin pages.
“Yes, ready when you are.” I nod.
Dan returns a nod, uncorks his orange potion, and leans the vial back into his mouth. I lean my yellow potion into my lips and swallow. It is cold and slightly numbing, almost minty, then my lips pinch impulsively in response to its terribly bitter aftertaste. I hope to Notch that I will never have to drink this awful potion again.
I listen nervously to Dan’s incomprehensible spell, counting the seconds before the world twists into oblivion, taking my consciousness with it.
------------
“Notch smite it! Fristad, where are you?” I hear my father’s worried voice calling from a distance.
It is dark. I struggle to keep my fingers from slipping from the steel sword, as the cold, hard hilt is too thick for my grasp, and my arms strain to hold the sword up under its weight. Dad’s leather armor feels baggy and is difficult to run in without tripping. I look behind me, breathing heavily as I see a skeleton running after me, cocking another arrow into its bow. I laugh hysterically. It can’t hit me. I’m too fast.
I turn my head forward again. There is a creeper wandering out in front of me, but I’m not afraid.
I hear the snap of a whizzing arrow and dash to my right, before the wavering stick plunges into the dirt. I strain my arms harder as I lift my sword, then veer back towards the skeleton, flanking it.
“Fristad, get away! You are in grave danger!” Dad’s voice is perhaps only a few feet behind me.
There is a deadly urgency to his voice, such that I abandon my attack on the skeleton and sprint away as fast as I can. Within a second, I feel the ground pull my legs out from underneath me as a screeching bang crushes my ears. As my chest crashes upon the earth, I hear a ringing in my ears and see stars all around me.
I push myself up as fast as I can and look behind me. Dad and the skeleton are both laying on the ground; both are still, but Dad is breathing heavily. He is missing a leg. The skeleton is missing a head.
Tears well up in my eyes. “Daddy!” I cry.
A moment passes in silence before Dad’s hand reaches towards me.
“Fristad, calm down.” Dad croaks weakly. “I’m going to be fine. Get me back to the house.”
Dad’s form shakes and twists into the darkness. I feel a thick rope tighten around my chest. I am hanging from it. As I look down into the blue sky, I feel as if gravity has been reversed, but then when I look up, I realize I am hanging beneath the crags of bedrock, with tongues of silver crashing against the rocks like an ocean, and floating all around me. I feel the heat of a sickly fever, which progresses into biting pain, which becomes burning, which then proceeds to tear my flesh apart. I scream in agony, pulling at the hanging rope, but I can already feel the strength in my arms growing weaker.
“You monster!” I cry out. “Pull me out of here, if at all you value my humanity! Have mercy!”
“Just a little while longer...” A man’s voice calling from a hole in the crag of bedrock replies calmly.
I let my muscles go limp, as I realize that I am about to die. The pain suppresses all my other thoughts; I feel a numbness as my vision fades.
The pain begins to subside. I think it’s finally over... but then I feel a faint tug on my chest... and then nothing.
After a while, I feel a hardness forming underneath me. The world fades back in, stone walls lit by flickering torchlight. I feel a throbbing pain; curious of the source I glance down at my arms, and gasp in shock at the wide gashes, lined with wisps of flowing silver. The fever has not subsided.
I wince in pain as a hard hand grasps my shoulder.
“We’ll try again tomorrow.”
Chapter 37: Impasse
I gasp myself awake, my chest pressing against the cold floor. Remembering the very same man who hung me by ropes in the heat of the void, I growl with hatred, roll over onto my back, and kick the Notch-forsaken magician in his jaw.
“To the Nether with you, you hopeless demon!” I cry with burning anger. “You had made me a fool. I should have known that it was you who caused me all this pain. Why is it that I let myself play your stupid game?”
“Fristad, I’m confused,” the man replies, unphased. He didn’t even seem to flinch. “Why don’t you tell me what the matter is with you before you try to kick me again?”
The man’s face jitters, his eyes flickering between brown and blue, before his form materializes as Dan. I grimace with embarrassment as I realize it was him that I just kicked.
“Oh shoot, I’m so very sorry...”
“Don’t be,” Dan replies. “Please, just tell me what you saw.”
I sigh, hesitant to recall the bitter memories. “I saw my father’s leg get blown off by a Creeper. And then I was burning in the void again. This time I was hanging from some ropes. There was a man calling from above the bedrock, telling me that I needed to wait just a little bit longer. Then, I lost consciousness. I woke up with wide silver gashes in my arms.”
Dan gazes distantly, saying nothing. After a short while, he takes a deep breath. “Is that actually something that happened to your father? Is he missing a leg?”
I nod. “He is.”
“Then I think we’re done here.” Dan reaches his hand down toward mine. “Do you need a hand?”
I lift my hand up toward his grasp. Dan’s hand locks around mine and pulls me slowly onto my feet. “Thanks. But... what do you mean that we’re done here?” I ask.
“I mean that I’ve learned everything that I need to know... at least, as far as qualia could tell me. That isn’t saying much, however. There is still much work to be done.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I mean, I have to confront the book, of course.” Dan chuckles.
“Isn’t that kind of dangerous?”
“Very dangerous, actually. I don’t see any alternatives, though. I must understand how powerful the book really is. I at least have a good idea of what to expect.” Dan holds his hand forward, palm exposed. “May I see it?”
I raise my brow. “Do you honestly think I would just give the Book to you?”
Dan squints in challenge. “Well, it’s either the book, or both of you. And the spell I intend to cast is rather painful.”
I am suddenly rattled with intense fear. There is bloodlust in those eyes. I can feel it.
But that isn’t true. I struggle against the fear. With a sudden burst of volition, I clear my thoughts. The Book is trying to control me. It wants me to hate Dan. I can’t listen to it.
“Do not give me up to him, Fristad,” the Book warns. “Call him on his bluff. He would never intend to hurt you... at least, not yet. Hold your ground against him, and he will have no choice but to give up on his assault.”
And why should I listen to you? All this time, you’ve been a manipulative parasite, making me act against my will, even against my own conscience. I want you gone.
“Don’t you dare call me such things! I would do the same to protect you, would I not? Is there no sacred ground between us? Would you discard our friendship? Even when you have nothing to lose? Surely you are not that selfish and short-sighted to want me gone? Do you not realize that if you give me up to him, that you will feel the same pain that I feel?”
I feel the Book trying to expand the guilt inside of me, but I resist it. I ignore its words. I could care less if the Book forces its pain upon me. Freedom feels so close. If Dan manages to weaken the Book, even just a little bit, then perhaps this will all soon be over. I reach into my back pocket, grab hold of the Book, and hand it to Dan.
Dan walks over to the other side of the room, places the Book onto the floor, and steps back. Suddenly, the Book is consumed in a shower of purple sparks, followed by a loud, acute screech.
“Drat!” Dan blurts out.
I hear a female voice laughing. “Was that supposed to be an attack spell?” The Book taunts. “I felt nothing. So much for fearing for my life. This man Vrendan is hardly a magician.”
As the purple smoke clears, I see the Book lying on the floor, just as before, perfectly intact. The floor beneath it is dented like a tiny crater. I realize with sorrow that my troubles with the Book are far from over.
“What just happened? How did the Book survive?” I ask Dan.
“The Book is guarded by Ender-magic. I should have known. No wonder I couldn’t feel its presence.”
“Ender-magic?” the Book inquires coyly. “Does Dan mean to insinuate that I am immersed in the same substance which fills the shadowed monsters of the void?” There is disgust in the Book’s voice, but also a hint of sarcasm, as if the Book already knew that this was going to happen. I begin to question why the Book didn’t tell me it was immune to void magic, but the thought is quickly submerged.
“Ender-magic... as in Endermen?” I echo from the Book.
“Yes and no. It is the same sort of magic, but I am certain that the book is not an Enderman. That complicates things.” Dan shakes his head in dismay. “My void magic will be useless against it.”
“Why don’t you just cut it in half with your diamond sword, then?” I ask.
“Given what I know now, I fear that that may be too dangerous.”
My heart sinks further, as I realize that my troubles may even be beyond Dan’s expertise. “Does that mean you won’t be able to help me?”
“No, most certainly not! Although, given the nature of my trade, I won’t be able to do this on my own.”
“What do you propose that we do, then?”
“Well, first I will try to ask Jonas if he can help us. If not, then we will have to find someone else.”
------------
We find Jonas outside in the fields, observing the hogs chewing at the dead grass. Sunshine trots toward Dan and bounces upon her forepaws, pointing her maw up Dan’s leg.
Dan gently pushes the dog’s nose away. “Sunshine, that’s enough. Now is not the time.”
“Hello there,” Jonas says as he turns to face us. “How are the tests going?”
“We’ve arrived at an impasse,” says Dan. “I have used enough qualia spells to help me understand the book’s identity, but we’ve discovered that the book is a beacon for Ender-magic. Of course, me being a void magician, that discovery is somewhat problematic.”
Dan knows the Book’s identity? Why hasn’t he told me?
“What are you going to do now, then?” Jonas responds.
“I was actually wondering if it would be possible for you to help us.”
Jonas’ gaze sinks downwards. He takes in a breath in preparation to speak, but then he hesitates. “I don’t think I can do that.”
“Why not?”
“Do you even have to ask?” Jonas’ voice rises in volume. He glares at Dan with annoyance before glancing down again.
“This is about the suppression, isn’t it?” Dan inquires.
“It is and it isn’t. I don’t want to talk about it.” Jonas keeps his gaze low.
“What sort of suppression?” I ask.
Dan holds up a finger towards me, mouthing “hold on” with his lips. “What else besides the suppression is preventing you from helping us?”
“Nothing. Just forget that I said that.”
“Jonas, if you are hiding something from me that might...”
“I thought I said: ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’” Jonas mouths slowly, a hint of restrained anger in his voice.
“But can you help us?” Dan presses on.
“Is it at all possible that you could find someone else? You know how long it’s taken for me to get this far.”
“Jonas, I’m all for exploring all possible options,” Dan reasons, “but right now, you are our best hope. There is no one else within miles that we could trust to help us. And the sooner that we help Fristad, the more quickly he will be able to recover. So will you do it for Fristad?”
Jonas lets out a deep sigh. “Let’s continue talking about this indoors.”
Chapter 38: Seeds of Doubt
The three of us are sitting at the study table, the vertex of the four hallways. A black ink bottle housing a feather quill lies in its exact center. No books or artifacts remain on the table; all are stored neatly in the shelves of each of the four corners of the room.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. I felt like I’ve already said what I needed to say,” Jonas replies vaguely.
“And that is...?”
“I don’t want to use my Ender-magic. I thought I made that clear.”
I interject, “Because of the suppression, right? What is the suppression, anyways?”
Jonas’ purple irises gaze at me with sorrow. “Do you really want to know? The knowledge won’t help you.”
Jonas’ straightforward question catches me off-guard. It seems as if, briefly, Jonas has offered to open up to me. But do I trust myself enough as a friend to hold on to one of his secrets?
“It may even make you to decide not to do things that are in your own interest,” Jonas adds. He probably notices that I am hesitating, and wants to see if he can change my mind.
I reason aloud, “If the knowledge explains why you can’t use your Ender-magic to help me, then I think that I should know. Besides, you are my friend.”
Jonas smiles faintly, but only for a moment. “Then you should know that I am trying to become more human. In order to do so, I must avoid using Ender-magic entirely. That’s why it’s called ‘suppression.’ I am suppressing the side of myself which makes me like an Enderman.”
Dan pipes in. “Jonas’ body is composed of two forms of magic, Ender and earth. If he can avoid using Ender-magic and strengthen his connection with the earth, then his earth side, his human side, will eventually overshadow it."
Eventually? As in, his human side is not dominant yet? "How long have you been doing this?” I ask Jonas.
“Seventeen years,” Jonas responds.
“Wow, that’s a very long time.” I turn the dates over in my head. That was around the time I met Jonas, wasn’t it?
Jonas nods. “The process has taken me a long time. That’s because it’s not supposed to happen. It’s unnatural.”
“Don’t think so lowly of yourself, cousin.” Dan pats Jonas on the shoulder. “It is a choice that you have made. And you have put a great deal of effort into it.”
“I know.” Jonas sighs. “I just worry that refusing to help Fristad might put him in danger.”
“Fristad’s recovery is a process, not a discrete series of steps which must be followed,” Dan responds. “I apologize for pressing my request so hard upon you. I only wanted you to take my request seriously. But the decision is still yours.”
Jonas turns towards me. “What do you think, Fristad? Should I do it?”
“I have faith that things will turn out fine either way. And I respect your choice to not use Ender-magic,” I respond.
“But would you still say that, had you not known why I chose to refuse?”
I shrug. “I prefer empathy over ignorance.”
Do I really have faith that things will turn out okay? I don’t know; a part of me feels I am still doomed to become the Book’s slave either way. I suppose that I told Jonas a white lie, but it was a lie to keep him from worrying about me. I’m sure he has done the same for me. I believe he has done so in my best interest, even though his secrecy makes me uneasy.
I can feel the Book clawing at my mind, telling me that I am forgetting something, but I am trying very hard to suppress it.
“In that case, Jonas, I would like for you to share with me what you can about Ender-magic that you think may be relevant,” Dan says, “and I’ll see if that knowledge can help us.”
Thus, Dan and Jonas begin to exchange words with each other. At first, the conversation starts off as metaphysical, almost spiritual in nature. But the conversation quickly spirals down into a sea of technical jargon, until I can’t understand a word they are saying. How the heck does Jonas know all of this stuff?
The Book speaks, “There is a great deal about Jonas which we do not know. We certainly know very little about Jonas’ relationship with Dan. It is obvious that the two of them share an intimate knowledge of magic, but this is unexplained by the fact that Jonas has worked as a shepherd since he was fourteen, if your memory is accurate.”
You can access my memories?
Blazes, the Book can access my memories. Is there no corner of my mind that is not secure from the Book’s presence?
“I am merely drawing from your recollection of the day you met Jonas, triggered from your inquiry about his suppression. There is no need for such deep probing. Let us not, however, forget why such knowledge is important. Let us draw our attention to Dan. Notice how his hair has lost all of its hue; it is a wiry grey. His voice is very deep and his nose is fleshy from age. With that knowledge in mind, one would suppose that Dan is perhaps in his sixties or seventies. However, a discrepancy arises. Look at his skin. Its form is supple and its wrinkles are light, and it is free of the spots of discoloration that one would expect from the skin of a man of his ripe age. Now, look at his eyes. Notice how clear they are, how vibrant of a blue with which his old irises shine, how rapidly they dart from Jonas to you and back. Why do you suppose that is the case?”
As I more closely observe Dan’s face as he speaks, I can’t help but focus upon his unnervingly blue eyes. Perhaps I noticed unconsciously that there was something out of the ordinary about them, but I didn’t realize what that was. I didn’t even notice his skin until you mentioned it, but I can see how there is a discrepancy there. Dan is apparently in very good health.
“And what else would keep Dan in such good health but his powerful magic? There is no telling how old Dan is. His longevity would explain how he has managed to amass such a great number of books, artifacts, and supplies. Dan may be short on credits, but he is indeed a very wealthy man. Thus, there appears to be a great age difference between Dan and Jonas. There are only two resolutions to this issue. The first is that Jonas and Dan are not cousins. The second is that Jonas is not thirty-one years old. Either, way, Jonas lied to you. Given that knowledge, do you still trust Jonas, even though he has not been honest to you?”
I reflect on the many years I have known Jonas, both as a partner on the farm and as a best friend. Jonas may not be perfectly honest with his words, but he is an honest person.
“Do you still think so, on top of the fact that Jonas has kept so many secrets from you?” the Book counters. “You hardly know anything about his past. Do you not think that it is odd that his supposed ‘cousin,’ despite his great wealth, lives in a slum, doing business with half-bloods and Nether looters?”
Nether looters? What are those?
“Do you not remember the man who visited Dan this morning, wearing chainmail stained with the blood and slime of Nether pigmen? The same man whose boss was notoriously late on his payment?”
Well, I suppose I remember the bald man who was wearing chainmail armor, but I had no idea he was a Nether looter, let alone any idea what a Nether looter actually is.
“Regardless, the important point which I am trying to make is that Dan is a dangerous man who solicits business from dangerous people. If Jonas is as honest as you say he is, he ought not to be associated with that man. But, alas, he is. It doesn’t help either that void magicians and Ender-beings have a notorious history.”
What makes you say that void magicians and Ender-beings have a notorious history?
“Common sense.”
What is that supposed to mean? I bet you pulled that idea out of your non-existent butthole. You’re just saying all of these things to try to make me suspicious of my best friend.
“Do not deny the truth which you see in front of you. It is clear that Jonas and Dan are not trustworthy. If you continue to treat Jonas as your friend, I assure you, you will come to regret your actions.”
Chapter 39: Redstone
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.”
Chapter 40: One Choice
I gasp for air as my lids swing open. I can feel the Book’s desperate urgency pulling my muscles, begging me to get out of bed, but the weight of tiredness presses against me, tempting my weak body with the sweet ambrosia of perfect sleep. My lids close reflexively. I feel myself fading into the soft clouds of the mattress once again.
“Fristad, you do not need any more sleep. The tiredness you are feeling is from a sleeping potion. Do not give in to it.”
A sleeping potion again? Are you serious?
I focus my willpower upon my arms, forcing them against the mattress and lifting myself forward until my feet land onto the solid floor beside the bed. My balance tilts as my vision is clouded with fog and colorful specks, forcing me to press my hand against the rough stone wall.
Finally the headrush passes its course, but the heavy tiredness remains. I turn right and see Jonas’ cloaked head upon his pillow, lids closed, face calmed with deep sleep.
So Dan really did slip something into my drink. But what about Jonas? Is he alright?
“I do not know what Dan intends to do. However, if he has learned at all from our attempted escape the previous night, then we should expect our current escape to be much more difficult. You cannot let him see you. If he does, you must be prepared to run.”
What about yesterday night, when he drew his sword, and my only choice was to talk? How do I expect to come out unscathed if he can chase after me with void magic and a diamond sword?
“I am done reasoning with that man. You need to get as far away from him as possible, and keep him blind to your presence until he assumes that you are dead and I am forgotten.”
How do you expect that to happen? There’s no telling how long Dan will keep looking for me. And besides, it would take years for Dan to assume that I’m dead.
Or maybe it wouldn’t. I recall the obsidian frame of the great room with nervousness, and picture old textbook illustrations of flaming brimstone, mutilated humanoid pigs, and pale screaming hulks with dread. I would be far from the first to disappear into the Nether. I just hope I make it out of there alive.
“Remember that Dan is of greater concern to us. Now, we must hurry. Find your sword.”
I walk around the bed and towards the bookshelf, where the floor is covered with haphazardly dropped bags and satchels, their leather surfaces cast in shadow by the slanted yellow light of glowstone. I spot my own personal satchel tucked within the left corner. There it is. I bend down and unstrap the buckle which holds the satchel shut, pull the mouth of the satchel apart, and lift the bag towards me. It feels way too light. I peer inside. There doesn’t appear to be anything else in here besides clothes. I reach my hand in. I hope to feel something solid, but all I feel is fabric and leather.
I’m starting to feel worried. I don’t know where my sword is. Come on, Fristad, retrace your steps.
I clench my brow as I try to remember when I last had my sword. I was packing my satchel when Jonas was at my door, and I know I had my sword then because I remember strapping it onto my waste. Where did it go then? I know I still had it when Jonas and I first got to Zomem, because I reached for it when I saw the creeper halfblood. But after that... I don’t remember. How did it disappear all of a sudden? I must have dropped it somewhere.
Of course! My satchel has a side pocket. It must be in there. I reach my hand in, but to my disappointment, my fingers wrap around a wooden handle. It’s just my axe. There’s no way I could defend myself with that. It’s not like I can go all Airlass on those Nether demons.
“You do not need the sword for self-defense. You just need something made of steel so that you can light the portal.”
But how am I supposed to defend myself?
“Your armor will take effect and provide sufficient disguise. Would you please stop asking questions? Every moment spent speculating means Dan is more likely to find us. You must leave now.”
You’re right. We need to go.
I clench my fist around the axe’s cylindrical wooden grip. Tensing my steps as I walk, I sidestep through the doorway of the bedroom and follow the hallway to the stairs. I gently but swiftly place a foot upon each successive step until I finally reach the floor of library shelves. I peer beyond the edge of the leftmost bookcase. Diffuse light glows across the floor. The hidden passageway is open. Should I go inside?
“You don’t have a choice,” the Book warns.
I walk towards the passageway, wary of the silence. Something about those five words causes me to fixate upon them. I know what they mean. I’m prolonging the inevitable. If I stay still, I’m waiting in vain while Dan is more likely to find me. Likewise, if I resist the Book’s words, I fight in vain while the Book’s influence continues to grow on me. However, there is something else about the words which intrigue me. Somehow it reminds me of the dreams that I’ve been having recently.
I’m at the bottom of the steps now, in the study room. I don’t know where Dan is. I would rather not know.
I turn left and begin walking down the long passageway. My heart pumps faster. If there’s any moment that Dan might notice me, it’s during the half a minute that I’m walking down this passageway. I want so much to run, but I’m afraid that I will make too much noise. I just want this passageway to end.
Finally, the obsidian mouth of the great room appears from the right. Suddenly I feel irrationally nervous. I think the ward is starting to kick in. I’m still really tired, too. Jeez, Dan, why won’t you give me a break?
I reach my right hand behind me and pull the flint out of my pocket. I kneel down in front of the obsidian frame and chafe my axe against the flint, creating a yellow spark. The spark falls upon the black rock, igniting more sparks, which dance and jitter erratically across the surface, like water in a hot pan, before dying off. Frustrated, I strike the flint again. Yet more yellow sparks flit across the obsidian before dying, just like my hopes of escape.
Dan would kill me if he saw me doing this. I have to get out of here. I can’t do this anymore. If anything, I’m going to catch myself on fire.
The Book admonishes my words with anger and impatience. “Fristad, you are paranoid from the ward. You must not give up now. Strike the flint closer to the frame.”
I want so badly to leave this awful place, but the Book’s words keep me going. I lower the flint until my knuckles rest upon the ground. I strike the flint sideways with my axe. A yellow spark multiplies and becomes a yellow flame, which turns to white, which turns to silver, which turns to a dark violet. I step back. The flame spreads and expands, climbing up the walls and collapsing in on itself into a wobbling purple membrane.
I can’t wait to leave this place. I step through. The world is now submerged in a purple fog, tipping from side to side, gradually tilting ever more so each time, until the upper floors of the obsidian room become a twisted mess of broken reality. The jerking motion gives me terrible nausea. Suddenly I am thrust forward into an empty space of a grainy blackness, which seems to condense a nervous, pent-up energy within my chest. The pull of space then takes a sharp right, and I feel now as if I am falling, until I find myself standing within another purple fog, surrounded by an oppressive heat. As I wait for the stretched realities to bend back into their original form and I step through the portal, I realize that this place is not the Nether that I have read about in books. I am in a room with stone brick walls, white tiled floor, and a stone ceiling. There are no windows of any kind. In front of me is a hallway leading into a red fog. There are no undead swine grunts or creepy demonic moans, only silence.
An unavoidable fear explodes inside of me, forcing me to run forward, heart pounding, breaths heavy, away from the portal, away from the ward. Then I feel a freezing chill. It begins at my toes and works its way upward, melding a rock-like stiffness into my joints. I feel the workings of my heart and my lungs turn silent, then finally the red fog of the Nether becomes a bright white light.
Chapter 41: Arbiter of the Flame
The faraway portal’s glow dimly stains the red fog with a purple hue. The white tiles on the floor of the corridor are worn down to their grout, and are sunken from the weight of perhaps countless feet. The stone brick walls of the corridor are corrugated with countless side passages, although I wouldn’t dare explore any passage so close to that terrible portal. Lines of dimly lit torches adorn the long walls, most no more than glowing embers, others burnt out completely. I suppose even a crafted torch cannot burn forever.
I turn the other way. This side of the corridor also fades into the red fog, however there is no end in sight. I might as well start searching the side passages for a way out.
I walk towards the nearest passage on my right and enter it. It seems as if this passage is identical to the first; the same worn white tiles pattern the floor; the same fading torches hang upon the walls; the same side passages indent into the stone bricks. Does this maze of passages even end?
I suppose the only way for me to find out is to move forward. I will surely become lost.
Many dying torches pass by. The corridor gradually stretches into a spacious hall. Walls of torches on the walls give way to a lane of glowstone on the floor. Obsidian bricks begin to intertwine in a spiral pattern with the stone bricks, before smoothly transitioning to pure obsidian. The red fog recedes.
The hall opens up into a grand room with eight walls, every other wall leading to another passageway. In the center is a stone statue of two elegantly posed figures, larger than life, engaged in what appears to be a fight to the death. One figure, adorned with lapis lazuli, stands tall, leaning forward with pride as they hold their sword up against the other figure’s arm. The other figure, adorned with white marble, leans back with knees bent, one fist clenched against the floor while the other fist clenches a pickaxe which digs into the shoulder of the figure standing over them. The eyes of the figure adorned with lapis are neither angry nor afraid; indeed, they are not focused on the other figure at all, but are instead pointed skyward. Curious, I follow the lapis figure’s eyes up to the ceiling, where a diamond-eyed face stares down brooding, their head surrounded with etchings of the sun’s rays, which are in turn surrounded by a sea of stars and clouds carved elegantly into a dome relief.
I approach the statue and notice a rusted placard at its base. I bend down to read it...
“Behold! The Twin Titans fight their final battle, and the Arbiter of Good shall be the victor. All followers of the Arbiter of Good shall be in forth-life blessed by the Watcher, whilst all followers of the Arbiter of Evil shall be in forth-life cursed. Our kingdom is the kingdom of the Arbiter of Good.”
What a beautiful, impossible fantasy! If only life were as black and white as the idealistic fight between good and evil, my troubles would be so much simpler, yet no Stephen-Herobrine story can explain what brought me here.
I walk past the statue, towards the hallway on the other side. I walk briskly for several minutes, then stop at an arbitrary intersection and take a left. I should try to head in some direction that’s unpredictable.
------------
I finally approach the end of another white-tiled corridor, where another, larger Nether portal rests. I can hear trapped gasses hissing and groaning as the purple plasma swirls.
I step onto the obsidian frame and brace myself as the world twists and folds into confusion. I am thrust into a blackness and jerked out of it with ungraceful haste.
I feel in front of me with my foot until I find solid ground, and step out into this unknown place.
There is no red fog here, only the light from the dying embers of ancient torches, so it is comparatively dark, but no trouble for my skeleton eyes...
The light goes dark. I compulsively gasp for air. I can feel my heart beat again.
...I guess I spoke too soon. But why would I change back now, when I need to be a skeleton in order to see?
The Book reaches out impatiently. “I cannot control the transformation. It was in the armor’s nature to change you back. We must light our path by other means. Give me your arm.”
What do you mean? You don’t have any hands.
“I said give it to me!”
I feel my left arm turn numb. An electrifying, searing heat spreads down from my shoulder to my palm, until the unbearable fever in my arm compels me to twist and contract the limb into an upright position. My palm is consumed in a white flash, which implodes into a violet fire.
I fixate upon my burning palm, and all I feel is fear. The Book can control the limbs of my body. It can make me harness the energy of the void, even though I’ve never cast a single spell in my life...
...unless I’m mistaken. What if I’ve already learned how to use magic, but I don’t remember, because the Book has altered my memories? The Book was able to make me craft armor in my sleep; what else has it made me do?
“Now, now, Fristad. The flame you see before you is merely a light source. There is nothing to fear.”
I feel the panic fade. The echo of the Book’s words soothe me. It’s right. I have nothing to fear. The Book is just trying to help me escape.
I scan my eyes across the room, now cast in a purple glow. It is roughly the same size as the room from which I came. The ceiling and walls are made of stone bricks, while the floor is covered with wood planks. There is only one way out, a corridor straight ahead.
My arm stings painfully with the heat of the void. I can’t endure this fever much longer. I slide my axe into my empty sword sheathe, walk towards the wall, and lift a smoldering torch from its metal hold. I bring my burning palm towards the dying embers, but the violet flame flees backward like a flying snipe, away from the torch. The fever in my arm doesn’t ebb at all, even though the flame is now suspended in the air beside me. I grimace with annoyance. What gives? I was trying to light a torch.
“Void fire does not behave the way you think it does, Fristad. If you were to light that torch with the flame in your hand, it would not burn steadily, but quickly disintegrate into nothingness. You must light the torch with flint and steel.”
I sigh, drained by the persistent pain but eager to get rid of it. I set the torch down onto the ground, pull out my axe, and remove the flint rock from my back pocket with my sore left hand. I strike the blade upon the flint’s edge, releasing a spark, which misses the torch entirely. I lean in closer and strike the flint again. The spark misses again, this time on the other side of the torch. I groan. Once more I strike the flint. The spark lands too low and scorches the wooden handle. Good riddance. Where will the spark land next? Above the torch?
My throbbing arm reminds me of its crisis. I don’t care about accuracy at this point. I graze the flint back and forth against the blade, releasing a flurry of sparks above the torch. A flame finally catches on the tip of the ember. I drop to my knees as fast as I can and blow gently upon the baby flame, until the ember glows white. I tilt the torch upright and feel the pain in my arm weaken as the torchlight grows. Finally, a real flame!
I collect my flint into my pocket and my axe into my hand, then I grasp the torch and stand up. The heat of the torch-fire breathes against my face, reminding me of how my thick leather armor indiscriminately traps the heat near my skin. At least it will keep me safe from whatever monsters hide down here.
I walk forward into the only corridor, glancing cautiously at each shadow to verify that it stays still between the dips in the flickering light. I pray that one shadow does not split into two, revealing an animate figure which lunges at my heart. Despite my hunch, each wavering shadow remains its sole, fickle self: dark, intangible, and unknowable. I want to kill them, but I can’t. At least I can kill a monster.
The corridor ends at a great passageway, as tall as it is wide. There is a gentle draft now. The air smells of putrefied feces and mildew. I bite my tongue as I fight my urge to gag. I stand still for a moment to take in my surroundings.
This place is a mess. There are great masses of trashed wood and unidentifiable, broken machines. Some of the stone columns are cut in half, hanging like stalactites from the ceiling while their lower halves are shattered and misplaced. Miniscule cracks in the ceiling project dim lines of light upon the drab brick walls.
Something is terribly wrong.
My spine tingles as I hear a faint creaking sound. Something is drawing a bow. I turn to the sound and see a figure clad in steel, with long, red hair hanging down from her helmet. The flint tip of her arrow gleams threateningly as she points it towards me, most likely at my neck.
“Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!” I raise my palms in front of my face.
“Why shouldn’t I?” the woman steadies her bow for a better grip. “How do I know you aren’t just saying that to lower my guard, so you can land the first strike?”
“I’m not a threat to you. How do I convince you of that? Can you be reasoned with?” I plead.
“Depends,” she broods. “Are you a Nether looter?”
“No.” I’m not even sure what a Nether looter is.
“Do you work for the government?”
“No.”
“Is someone looking for you?”
“No,” I lie.
“Do you owe anyone money?”
“No.”
“Then I suppose I can be reasoned with. Explain to me why I shouldn’t kill you.”
“I’m only here because I’m lost and I don’t want to kill you.”
“Yea, right,” the woman scoffs. “You aren’t lost. No sane Minecraftian accidentally wanders into an abandoned city that’s only accessible to the outside world through the Nether. Why are you really here?”
“If by ‘lost,’ you mean ‘unable to find my way back,’ then yes, I am very lost. What else do you expect me to say?”
“That’s not the same as wandering into the Nether on accident. You are clearly here for a reason. What is it?”
“I... I don’t know,” I confess.
She doesn’t respond. Her bow remains drawn.
The two of us stand still for an awkwardly long length of time. I don’t want to move, because I’m afraid that she will fire her bow. At the same time, she might grow impatient and shoot me anyway, unless I say something to her... but I don’t have a coherent story to tell her that isn’t the truth. Maybe I could try saying something vague, and then she could help me fill in the gaps.
“There was a certain... occasion.”
Gosh that sounds ridiculous. I really am a terrible liar.
“What sort of occasion?”
“I was at a party.”
“Let me guess: you had a lapse of judgment and decided it might be fun to elope in the underworld?”
I shrug. “Pretty much.”
“That makes absolutely no sense.”
Notch smite it. She doesn’t believe me.
I hear the bow creak. “I almost feel sorry for killing you.”
The Book’s voice rings loudly in my head. “I am tired of your terrible lies! I will not let you perish at the end of this stranger’s arrow. It is time that we show the world what we are truly capable of. Look into her eyes, and tell her the words that you want her to believe.”
The excruciating fever returns, stronger than before. This time, it permeates my entire body, but the fever is most strong within my head. My thoughts become restless. I lift my vision to the stranger’s green eyes, which rest upon darkly freckled cheeks. I can almost swear I see fireflies behind her irises, shining like fleeting memories.
“I am not a threat to you,” I insist. “You don’t have to kill me.”
The fireflies clump into a swarm and flit about wildly, as if agitated. What is going on? Is she thinking?
She continues to stand still, with her bow drawn. The fireflies disappear. The fever fades.
She lowers her bow and grins mischievously. “Why would I want to kill you? You’re clearly not a threat to me.”
“I thought you just said you wanted to kill me.” Now I’m confused. Did I really influence her judgment, or was she joking?
“Well then, I must have had a... lapse of judgment.” She winks.
“What about my crazy party story?”
“I’d rather not know the details. Keep it to yourself. Say, do you have a few minutes to spare? It’s not every day that someone comes down here who doesn’t have bizarre ulterior motives and doesn’t have dangerous people following them.”
“Sure, why not?”
Chapter 42: The Perfect Experiment
I should have said no. I should have just left the woman alone, but there was just too much to gain. She could have food... or supplies... or knowledge of how to get out of this place. There is another reason why I want to follow her, but I don’t know how to describe it. Somehow, the sight of the fireflies in her eyes was... beautiful. I want to see the glowing creatures again, to watch them flit around, to watch them coalesce with each utterance that slides from my tongue...
I just hope that those fireflies aren’t what I think they are.
I want so much to believe that my newfound power isn’t real. If I let it sink in that I am capable of controlling minds, I know that knowledge will change me.
...for the better.
A tiny voice echoes inside of me, a piece of my consciousness I have tried so hard to suppress over the many years of my life. It cries for freedom, for happiness, for greatness. It wants me to climb above the mundane, crowded rat’s nest that is humanity. It offers me the missing piece of truth that I have always yearned for.
...but I know it’s wrong. Why would I ever think those things?
“Here we go,” the girl announces as she pushes aside a wooden pallet, revealing a dreamy red glow beneath the shadows. She walks inside.
I follow her into the same passageway... or should I say room. What is this place? There are flaming furnaces along the wall... and chests and workbenches... and what is that rolled-up sack hanging on the back wall, with fabric draped over it? Is that a sleeping bag?
“Is there a problem?” She asks, looking back at me.
“No, I’m fine.”
“You seem a bit surprised at my standard of living.”
“That’s not at all what I was thinking... wait, you actually live down here?”
“I guess you wouldn’t expect that, since it’s underground and it smells like sewage,” she notes in a relatively monotone voice.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just–”
“It’s fine. I can tell you’re not from around here.”
That stung. I don’t like being called a clueless foreigner.
The Book interrupts my stream of thought, “Fristad, focus! Do you realize the gravity of this situation? Every second you wear that enchanted armor, Dan comes closer to finding you. The armor must be destroyed.”
Are you crazy? I can’t destroy this armor; it is irreplaceable! There has to be some other way...
“The alternative is that Dan finds you and imprisons you, so that he may torment you with his spells as he pleases. Surely you do not want this?”
I can’t let him do that again. I’ve already tried so hard to escape... but I don’t want to burn in the sunlight, either.
“Hey, would you mind turning over some coals in the furnace right next to you?” The girl asks as she reaches into a live furnace with her blade.
“Umm... no problem,” I reply, groggy and half-aware.
“What perfect timing,” the Book remarks. “You can dispose of your armor in the furnace.”
There’s no way I’m going to do that.
“You must do it.”
The heat of the furnace nips threateningly at my approaching hand. I turn the furnace door’s rusted knob, and the door swings open, revealing white-tongued flames dancing among glowing coals. On the shelf above them is an orange-tinged, molten metal, thick like magma, its shape jittering beneath the smoke.
I turn towards the black stake hanging on the back wall. I lift my foot, but I feel my body hesitate. An urgent need floods my muscles. A familiar sensation overcomes me, the restlessness of a waking dream. I recall standing in front of the crafting bench, watching the bone and leather coalesce into boots. I hated crafting that armor, but then I learned to love it. Now the Book is taking it away from me.
I feel hard stone beneath my sweaty feet. I watch my beloved boots curl and blacken within the flames. My fingers crawl underneath the straps of my helmet. My arms release it like a catapult. Next goes the chestpiece...
“What in the Nether are you doing?” The girl kicks the furnace shut and stands in front of me. “That was perfectly good armor.”
“Exactly!”
“If you knew it was so valuable, then why did you burn it?”
“I don’t know...” or maybe I do. Somehow my mind feels clearer now, as if some draining influence on my mind has been lifted. “Actually, I think the armor may have been cursed.”
“What do you mean, ‘cursed’?”
“Cursed like in that one story... I forget what it’s called. Thieves keep sneaking into a dungeon to find some priceless amulet, but none of them make it out alive.”
“I don’t know what that story is, but I’m pretty sure your armor isn’t cursed. Look, if you really don’t want your armor, can you at least let me have what’s left of it?”
“Trust me, you don’t want this armor,” I insist.
“Why not? It’s enchanted, right?”
“Well, the problem with the enchantment is that...” I cut myself short. I can’t tell her about the skeleton transformation, or she might want to kill me again.
“What enchantment is it?” Her brow furrows with worry.
“Knockback.”
An awkward minute of silence passes. Then the girl’s eyes widen.
“Okay, I don’t want it,” she mutters rapidly. She steps aside. “If it’s really cursed, then you should get rid of it. I’m sorry; I have trust issues.”
“I’ve noticed.”
I swing open the furnace door and throw my chestpiece onto the hot coals. Gosh, am I glad to be rid of that stuffy armor. I unstrap my leg armor and throw it on top of the chestpiece. The mass of leather and bone shrinks and blackens as the fire consumes them. Then, out of nowhere, white smoke rises up from beneath the coals, and the blackened mass sinks into it just like a slain mob sinks into the earth.
I lift my brows in surprise. “I did not expect that.” That was a bit creepy.
“Expect what? What happened?”
“The armor disappeared in a cloud of white smoke. It’s completely gone. See for yourself.” I step back.
The armored girl kneels down in front of the furnace and peers inside. “Yeeep. Definitely cursed.” She sifts through the coals with her sword. “Where the heck did it goo...? Ooooo...” She makes spooky ghost sounds.
“Hopefully into the void, where it will never be seen again.”
“No, it most likely went into the Red Aether.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s the place where dead things go. It’s also the place where miners store all of their junk.”
“That’s interesting. I wonder why I’ve never heard of it before.”
The girl swings the furnace closed. “That’s because you’re not a miner.” She smirks, leaning against the furnace as she sits down.
“And I’m guessing you are a miner?”
“Ex-miner,” she corrects me.
“Why aren’t you a miner anymore?”
She crosses her arms and legs. “I’m not much of a miner without my crew. Most of my crew died in a cave-in three years back. After that, everyone moved on. It just wasn’t the same.”
“That’s awful. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. They were miners, after all. They respawned with their memories intact... well, almost.”
“Why then did everyone leave if they still had their memories?”
“It was a huge setback. We lost a lot of resources. It wasn’t the first time we had a cave-in, either. Zomem’s ancient tunnels are so unstable. Even the deepest caves can feel the strain of their collapse. At some point, everyone decided the payout wasn’t worth it.”
“Why did you stay, then?”
“There has to be something in these ruins worth searching for. Priceless artifacts, maybe. The best part is that if I find them, I don’t have to share the profits.”
“So you work alone?”
“You bet.”
She’s... alone. She’s vulnerable. I could influence her to do my bidding, and no one would be the wiser. Sure, she’s a miner, but even a miner couldn’t resist the silver fire of the void. It’s the perfect experiment.
Chapter 43: Stupid Decisions
“Wait, hold on! You’ve just told me a story about your life, but I don’t even know your name.”
“Umm...” she hesitates, “Brittany.”
“Brittany...” I taste the name on my tongue. Does the knowledge of her name give me power over her, or will it make me more self-conscious about controlling her?
“And you are...?”
“Colby,” I respond quickly.
“Nice to meet you, Colby. Look, I’d love to talk more, but I’ve got things to do, so if it’s alright with you...”
“Wait! I need you to do me a favor.” A warmth inside me begins to rise. Fleeting, glowing dots begin to shine through Brittany’s eyes. I need to start with something small, something harmless. “I need you to sit down.”
“What... why?” Brittany says as she sits down, her eyes squinting with confusion.
So far so good. “Now stand on your knees.”
She leans forward and stands on her knees.
“Now stand on one foot.”
She stands up and lifts her left shin into her hand. Her facial expression becomes relaxed, as if in deep thought.
“Now jump five times.”
She jumps on one foot. Her metal armor clanks loudly from the impact.
I burst out laughing.
The Book projects impatience. “Fristad, that’s enough. You have confirmed that you are able to control her, but now you need to prepare yourself for the journey.”
Are you kidding? The best part of having power is making stupid decisions, without any consequences. Let me have my laugh!
“Great,” I say, “Now sing the Standard Alphabet.”
“Eee, Oh, Ah; Iye, Ooo, Uy; Wu, Ur, El; En, Em, Na. Aych, Jay, Fay, Say, Vay. Po, Bo; Ga, Da. Ze, Qway, Kay and lastly Tay,” Brittany recites as she stands on one foot.
The fireflies in her eyes swarm about wildly, fading in and out of existence. I wonder if there’s a way for me to see them more clearly, so I can understand what they mean. I fixate upon them. The fever grows, and the depth of the swarm expands farther into her irises, like a mysterious mirror dimension. I begin to see vine-like patterns in the growing swarm.
“Now sing it again, this time while hopping on one foot,” I command.
Brittney hops on one foot while singing.
Hold on... why am I doing this? And what is with that man’s eyes? They’re glowing! My heart skips a beat as I avert my gaze. Those weren’t my thoughts.
The Book becomes nervous. “Something’s wrong. Only a few minutes have passed, and yet she’s already starting to question our authority. You need to hide your influence. Ask her why she’s acting strangely and tell her you saw a flash of light coming from the furnace. Then, without using magic, ask her for as much supplies as you can, and leave this place for good.”
Got it. “Woah, did you see that flash of light coming from the furnace that’s right behind you? Also, what in Notch’s name are you doing?” I ask.
Brittany puts her foot down, and her eyes widen. The fireflies fade away. “I did! I saw the light reflecting in your eyes. Weird, huh?” She stares down at the furnace behind her. “The fumes from the cursed armor must be making me looney. Maybe I should take a break from smelting for a while.”
The Book observes with approval. “Wonderful job.”
Thanks. I thought the expletive was a nice touch.
“Sounds like a good idea...” I say to Brittany, about to change the subject. “Look, I don’t want to take away from your time, but I really do need supplies if I’m going to make it out of here alive.”
“How long did it take you to get in here?” Brittany raises an eyebrow.
“A few days,” I lie, hoping it would allow me to get extra supplies.
She leans her head back and emits a boisterous laugh. “What convoluted passage did you take? I know Nether passages that could get you out in a few hours! But I will humor you. What do you want?”
“Some food, some water, an iron sword, and some armor.”
“Food and water I can give you, although I’m afraid I don’t have much iron to spare. I’ll tell you what: help me craft and run the furnaces for the next few days, and I’ll make you a sword and some passable armor. Deal?”
“Deal,” I reply.
Brittany holds out her arm, and we shake hands.
------------
I stretch my sore knees onto Brittany’s spare blankets, sweaty and exhausted from the day’s work. Most of the exertion came from bending over and kindling furnaces, but a surprising amount came from crafting. As I’ve recently learned, crafting recipes do actually have a small energy cost associated with them, but it’s only noticeable if you craft a lot of things at once. Crafting all those tools and buckets made my wrists feel numb.
The roaring furnace fires have reduced to a subtle glow. Brittany lays within her sleeping bag, inspecting a glowing redstone gem in her hand, as wide as the bridge of her thumb is thick. Her bow, quiver, and sword lay behind her. To her side lie two deep wooden bowls stacked together, emptied of mushroom soup. I could barely empty one.
“Brittany, do you mind if I ask you one last question?” I ask.
“Sure.”
“Why aren’t there any monsters down here, even though it’s so dark?”
“What are you talking about? Of course there are monsters down here. I’m surprised you haven’t seen any.”
“Oh...” I reply.
I hold my breath for a moment and listen for the sound of footsteps, but I don’t hear any. If there really are monsters out there, that would mean that the only thing separating them from our bedsides is that thin wooden pallet at the end of the room.
“Do you mind if I ask you one last question?” Brittany adds.
“Fine with me.”
“Is there something bothering you?”
“What do you mean?”
Brittany presses her elbow against the ground and rests her head on her hand. “There’s something in your eyes. Somehow, when I look at them, they make me feel nervous.”
“I wouldn’t say I feel nervous, if that’s what you mean.”
I turn over onto my side and pull the blankets over me. Sleeping on this hard stone floor isn’t so comfortable, but it’s better than standing.
“Good night,” I yawn.
“Good night, Colby.”
If I wasn’t so tired, I would have asked Brittany a lot more questions.
I close my eyes and feel the tiredness of my limbs drag my mind into dark clouds. Even the hard ground cannot stave off my sleep. I begin to feel my senses fading, but one stray question jolts my mind awake.
What did Brittany see in my eyes?
Chapter 44: Encounter
Footsteps echo from the hallway. A harsh light illuminates the dark room, scorching my eyes. A sleeping bag shuffles. A bow creaks.
Before Jonas finishes saying “Thank Notch,” I hear the snap of a launched arrow.
The dog jumps off of me and starts to growl. I hear a bone-crushing thump. The dog squeals.
I sit up.
“Stay down! Let me handle this!” orders Brittany. She pulls back her bow. Another arrow wizzes off. Jonas cries out.
The light begins to fade. I turn towards the doorway and see the tail of Jonas’ brown cloak disappear behind the wall. Brittany sprints toward the doorway.
“Stop, please! He’s my friend,” I cry as I spring off the ground and onto my toes.
Brittany halts at the corner of the wall. She holds her sword ready. Her other hand clutches arrows and a bow. “You must be joking.”
“I’m serious!”
She turns her head toward me and stares me down with squinted eyes. “I thought you said nobody was following you.”
“This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Brittany lets out a deep sigh. “Go talk some sense into the halfblood so he doesn’t come back and try to kill me.”
I nod and run into the hallway. I follow the fading light around a corner. “Jonas, it’s okay! I told her you aren’t a threat.”
Jonas’ cloak settles as he halts his run. He turns around, revealing an arrow lodged beneath his cloak, clinging to the center of his chest. His right jaw oozes blood. He bends over, sets down a yellow-glowing lantern onto the ground, and yanks out the arrow from his chest. He drops the arrow onto the floor. Silver metal glints faintly from beneath the collar of his cloak. “She’s certainly a threat to me.”
“Oh Notch, she could have killed you!” I cry out, seeing how accurately the arrows struck.
“I thought you were dead...” Jonas chokes up. “What were you thinking, running into the Nether like that?”
“The Book made me do it.” I pick up the arrow on the ground and brush its tip with the flesh of my thumb. It’s still sharp. I feel the Book watching... hoping... wanting... “It wanted me to escape. It made me burn my armor, too, just so Dan couldn’t find me.”
“It made you get rid of your only defense...” Jonas shakes his head. “This is the second time the book has put your life at risk. What was I thinking? I was so selfish. I should have used my powers to help you.”
“It’s been a long day.” I lean forward and spread my arms for a hug.
We embrace each other and pat each other on the back.
I clench the arrow tight and aim it at Jonas’ neck. Jonas grabs my wrist and tries to push it away. Our arms are in deadlock.
Jonas’ violet irises look deep into mine. “Fristad would never do this.”
The more I stare into his eyes, the more alien they become. I feel myself pressing harder, augmented with growing hatred. “I would never kill Jonas, but you... you are a monster.”
The light suddenly switches off. I realize I’ve lost control. A terrible heat submerges me. I try to pierce through it, to try to stop the Book from killing my best friend.
“Don’t kill Jonas!” I cry out. The light fades back in. I drop the arrow and run backwards. I pull the axe from my belt and the Book from my back pocket. I have to destroy the Book, no matter what it takes.
“Please do not kill me,” the Book pleads. “I am a better friend than Jonas will ever be. How can you trust Jonas over me when Jonas lied to you? He even admitted he was selfish. When given a choice between helping you and helping himself, he helped himself! Is that the kind of friend that you want to keep?”
I refuse to listen to you any longer. I throw the Book down, lift the axe above my head, and swing down upon the binding of the Book. A sharp pain slices through my abdomen. I feel the urge to cry out in pain, but my voice is silent. The light shivers and distorts until I am drifting in a sea of bubbles. The world twists again, and I see a humanoid figure standing in front of me, its form covered with pages of text. Its arm holds an axe whose blade is embedded into my gut. The figure places its palm gently upon my chest.
I feel my memories begin to break apart. I try to bring together the pieces, but I am drowning in them...
Table of Contents
I am glad that the suspense remains.
Loves!
*evil laugh* I am glad that you enjoy it.
I am thinking that Dan is the mage in fristads dreams, i have a pretty good feeling. Dan just rejects the idea to cover his own secrets. But also that he could be controlling the book as well because it seems Dan has his own intentions to controlling fristad. Just a guess could easily be wrong
Please enjoy!
Chapter 38, Seeds of Doubt, has just been uploaded! Why so many secrets? Is "common sense" at work here... or deceit? Or are we just really confused here?
Edit: Happy New Year, folks!
Chapter 39: Redstone, has just been uploaded! This chapter is somewhat of a mosaic in terms of structure.
Edit: Oh, and I should probably mention that caanigan inspired the new poll. His speculation made me dreadfully curious.
At times like these I wish I could read my readers' minds,
But alas, I cannot.
Woe is the maker who knows not what they are doing,
Yet equal woe is the maker who fixates on this fact,
For paranoia is the vaccine to creativity,
And planning is the boon to idleness,
So I should probably stop writing this poem.
\endpoem
In other words, a new chapter is up!
I... have a feeling this chapter might make people speculate.
I'm also getting closer to a point in the story that I've been looking forward to writing for a long time. I don't want to set anyone's expectations unrealistically high, but I'm too excited to not admit that I'm excited.
And after that point in the story... I have almost no idea what to write next. XD That is aside from very, very tentative plans for the ending, which seem to grow more distant the more I write this behemoth of a story. Considering how much my story has changed from my original plans (in short, a thoughtcanon of an impossibly complex shapeshifting and cognitohazard mod (very different from the actual story)), I imagine the story will work itself out. In short, I know what I'm going to write next, but I have absolutely NO IDEA how the story will end.
Fan* fiction
This.... really made my day Thank you.
Unfortunately I don't think a legit publishing company would be receptive to a fanfiction, although self-publishing is definitely on my "list of things to consider doing in the distant future."
Also, there's a very useful edit button at the bottom of your posts. It's a bit buggy right now because the save button finalizes the edit but doesn't close the edit box, so you'll have to refresh the page to see the changes (at least in Firefox 28, which I used to write this), but it still works fine.
If you could take a second to even contemplate giving me some feedback on my work I'd be honoured.
Like fantasy? Like Minecraft? Check out a blend of the two here! Fall and a Rise: A Vanillacraft Tale!
Wow! I mean... wow! I am so glad you like it. Hitchcock is quite the comparison.
(;
Edit: I fixed a glaring error with Chapter 41 involving a certain sword that should not exist in a certain time and place. Chapter 42 is coming along... slowly...