The Storming Of Verjhe

Chapter 4

Mornings hadn't ever really been Darian's forte. It was usually Dave who would be up early in the morning, then proceed to deafen him, in an attempt to wake him up. Easy mornings, two dark blonde heads with only each other for company, Dave's rollicking weird laugh which sounded straight out of a horror story; they all seemed like a lifetime away. How long had it even been? Three days, four days? He couldn't even tell. A sudden pang of loneliness gripped his heart.

He heaved a sigh and sat up. His head wasn't aching anymore, which was a good sign. Well, the fact that he was awake and not knocked out drooling was in itself a good sign.  There was also nobody with a maniacal smile and with a weapon to maybe kill him in his room, also a good sign. Maybe it was going to be a good day.  Wow, his already low standards for a good day had fallen even further. He sighed again.

He got out of his bed slowly, as quietly as he could. Still, no people.  A good sign. Where had that lady gotten that blue liquid he drank yesterday night? His eyes were closed when she entered the room, but when she had ticked him off about his squeezed eyes, her hands had been empty hadn't they? The table on the left side of the room was cleared right now, its glazed dark brown wood reflecting the sunlight. Could it have been kept in some cupboard in this room, at easy access to give him more if needed?

He walked over stealthily to the wall in the middle, the floorboards creaked beneath him. Not a good sign. No drawers were sticking out explicitly, but he refused to believe that there wouldn't even be one drawer inside the whole room. There were faint square outlines marked diagonally on the wall, however. Now, either that was a wall design or perhaps something else. He traced a finger along the edges of the square. Absolutely smooth and flat. He sighed. Not a good sign. 

He had thought that maybe if he could somehow pocket a vial of the blue liquid, it could prove to be a good backup in emergencies. If they decided he was not useful for whatever reason they had for bringing him here and tried knocking him out with that cool liquid again, perhaps he could drink this and neutralize the effect? He didn't know if it would work, but it would at least be some defence.

He leaned against the wall and tried to think of another plan.  Abruptly, the part of the wall against which his hip was pressing, seemed to move. He turned around and crouched. A little square drawer was now jutting out slightly. Of course! There must have been some sort of mechanism ThereHe pulled it out further, but it was empty. Not a good sign.

He immediately started pressing the other drawers in the diagonal. The third drawer finally found him a big stoppered beaker, with blue liquid inside. He frantically searched the last 2 drawers for a vial, but there were none. He rushed over to the other two walls, but they had no square markings and even pressing or knocking did not yield a thing.

His shoulders slumped, he returned to the third drawer.  The beaker was too big to hide and sneak away. And whoever was in charge would definitely notice if the whole thing disappeared. He needed some sort of a vial that would be easier to hide and also would not make the difference in the level of blue liquid discernable.

Footsteps sounded on the path outside. Darian quickly pressed the square back in place and moved away from the wall. A tall, broad broad-shouldered man with a dark brown bun, a few strands escaping the rubber band stood there. He narrowed his eyes, looking at Darian out of his bed and near a wall doing nothing.

"The wallpaper. Such a beautiful design", blurted Darian, "I was just admiring the texture"

The man narrowed his eyes further. Then he crossed the room in two long fluid steps and sat down crossing his legs. 

"Sit," he ordered, indicating the bed.

Darian walked to the bed and sat down cautiously.  The man rested his elbows on his knees and steepled his fingers.