Chapter Thirteen: Of Arnur and the Fall (Part One)
(Note: This is not official version and may be removed in the near future. This do not reflect what is read in the podcast version, nor any other version you may encounter. I have preserved the rough form for posterity — or something like that. This novel has since been rewritten.) Note: I apologize for not being able to give a full and complete chapter for WISB. I have a good reason, and it is this. The chapter is proving to be far longer than I had intended. I could easily put in a chapter break, but I feel that it would take away from the flow of Chapter 13 by calling it 13 and 14, rather than two parts. Right now I am deep into the second half of the chapter which is pushing 7,000 words, which on average is a good 2,500 words more than other chapters. I don’t feel safe pushing to finish it tonight, though I will get as much done as possible. However, I will post part two the following sunday and obviously write chapter 14 for the weekend after that. So really, it’s like you’re getting a triple treat over the next three weeks! In any case, enjoy Ch. 13 Part One! Night fell like a wave of black for the moon, as it rose, was still a stark gray so dark that only the outline of its shape and the darkest of craters could be seen. Stars glimmered and provided a negligible amount of light, and nothing more. The heavens were fraught with inactivity. No meteors fell, no stars died, and all seemed in a complete standstill as life on Traea moved on as if nothing had ever happened. It was doubtless that the people, creatures, and beasts of Traea were affected; some must have been more than others. James had seen the disturbed faces of the people of Arlin City when the sun forgot to rise, and he knew how disturbed many must have been when all ran in reverse. He had a rudimentary knowledge of physics and the inner workings of the solar system. Planets that rotated developed magnetic fields to protect the surface from radiation. If the world that Traea was forever connected to suddenly stopped, radiation would have pounded every living thing so drastically that he couldn’t imagine anyone surviving for long. To add to the problem, with the air in the atmosphere moving at the same speed as the rest of the planet, a sudden stop would send all that air careening around the planet like a massive elemental hand to smash and suck up anything and everything possible. The idea that the planet could have stopped for any moment was mind boggling to him. It’s impossible. And if the moon stopped moving it would come crashing down. He realized at this point in his journey that if something was impossible, it likely would happen, as if nature in this strange world followed a twisted version of Murphy’s Law. James decided not to think on it anymore. He hadn’t the knowledge to figure it all out logically, and even if he did he doubted he could make any of it sound remotely logical to an entire world devoted to the works of magic. The golden path turned out to be less magnificent than he had expected. While the walls were a golden hue, they were faint and unimpressive apart from the fact that they were gold colored in the first place. The path climbed steadily in altitude and slowly melded into the tree like a landscape painting, tall dark brown trunks reaching up with scraggly bark wrinkles and long limbs of green pine needles and prickly pinecones. Soon the rocks faded away into nothing but trees and brush, leaving behind the tall cliffs of gold. James could no longer see anything of the little part of Traea that he knew—Arlin City, the entirety of the Lor Range, nor the great valley floor—that having little to do with the final blow of failing light as the sun disappeared beyond the farthest mountains, though Pea had brought out his torch and set it brilliantly aflame. The valley floor was simply out of sight. It felt as if he was in a new world completely separate from all that was happening below, and in a strange way this was true. James, Pea, and Darl were cut off from the Farthland, at least the civilized portion of it. As far as they knew, nobody else knew where they were, except for a select few who had likely died horribly in battle. James now understood why Arnur could keep him safe. The terrain was well enough for a few passengers, even a light wagon, but not sufficient enough to move an army. He imagined that Arnur had some form of protection, something that a small force would be unlikely to handle. And he wondered what it was. Is Arnur an ancient castle? A sacred fortress of some sort? Pea’s light shined on the encroaching tree limbs that seemed to reach out like ancient hands. The trees looked old, older than any James had seen back home. And they seemed overly healthy. Nothing that he could see seemed in any way to be dying or losing the brutal battle called life. Yet, at the same time, the forest, for that was all he could call it, was unkempt and untouched. Trees wound into themselves in a mock of natures’ battle to maintain superiority; bushes and thick bulbous mushrooms seized the opportunity to leech from the larger trees, wrapping around like wiry tendons and ending in tiny flowers of virtually every prime color imaginable so that they blended like the colors of a rainbow after a spring shower. Then Arnur presented itself, and James could only describe it as awe-inspiring. The magnificent structure seemed to appear from nowhere as if waiting patiently for he and his friends’ arrival. Arnur took up the entirety of