Day 7

I feel blah. I don't feel like writing. However, I know I should. I'm going to open up the document and stare at the place I left of (one of them anyway). It's funny, but more often than not when I bring myself to do that I come up with something. There's no guarantees it'll be good or anything, but it's something at least.

***

I wrote, and I wrote quite a bit more than I expected I would. I'm very pleased. Hopefully this means that this 30 day writing thing is providing some fruitful results. The more I write the easier it should become. It seems that way anyhow.

I continued for a bit from both the points I've left off on.

***


The stairway was rickety, though not by far as rickety as Keir had feared. Sam made a mental note to tease him about it later. She was far too intent on the silvery key and where it might be leading. She was not sure if she liked the key or not, she had no idea where it went, after all, and as such no idea what to expect. Having gone up one half-floor they followed a short corridor which ended in a white and entirely unremarkable door. Keir felt the door knob.
"Locked."
"Just be ready then" Sam muttered as she stepped forward, tentatively sticking the key in the lock. It seemed to fit. It just seemed odd that they would use such an old-fashioned design on the key, for such a regular-looking door. It gnawed at her. She heard the click of Keir's gun behind her. With one hand on her own gun she turned the key and slowly, and quietly opened the door.
She had expected it to be dark, but immediately when the door cracked open it emitted a sliver of light. She gently pushed it open all the way and with pistol firmly in hand she walked in, and up a couple of steps. Behind her she could hear Keir draw a breath of awe and excitement.
"Bloody hell." And he walked past her, gazing three ways at once.

Her own heart sunk like a stone. Books. All around them thousands and thousands of books, circling upwards on great bookshelves to a magnificent and unbroken glass-doom ceiling. How under heaven were they suppose to find what they were looking for, what Keir was looking for, in here? Knowing Keir and his hunches, Sam had the unencouraging feeling that he didn't know either.

***

Rolling around she pulled her gun, aiming after the birds. She doubted that she got a hit, but with luck it would keep them at bay, for a while.
"Come on, come on! We got to go!" She was tugging at Keir, who had frozen halfway up, staring at the well. A white smog or smoke was rising up and pouring over the edges, making the bitter smell more pronounced than ever. Sam didn't have time to be subtle. The klatsch of the slap she dealt him over the face could be heard quite clearly over the rumbling. He started and looked up at her, half-dazed, before getting up. The smell had to be getting to him in some way.
"Grab your bag." She gazed skywards for the ravens again, "we gotta shake the birds."
Keir shook his head, as if to get rid of a fly, and then, they ran. Far above the ravens circled, free from their stone abode. Their eternal eyes searching the ground.

***

I'm considering ending the chapter at this point, which would mean I would just have to tie everything together! I'm not sure though, I was planning on including more of their escape. We'll see I guess.

Oh, I also think I figured out a working title for the book. Mimir's Well.