Chapter Fourteen: Of Corrupted Passings and the Eighth Day
(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.) Pack slung over his back, sword securely attached, James marched through the long corridor. Unlike the previous corridor, this one contained no rooms or alternate passageways. It rode straight arrow into the mountain. The Lean slipped in and out of shadow seemingly at random, though James knew there was some point to it. The corridor, like the other areas he had seen, was lit by a luminescence that James could not quite explain. He had read somewhere that ancient cultures used mirrors to reflect sunlight into poorly lit areas, but as he glanced around he saw no such mirrors, nor any place where one could place them. The corridor was practically bare, with exception to the continuous stream of symbols and designs. James remained utterly silent and fixed in thought. He looked at his hands, at the dried blood encrusted under his finger nails, and mentally shivered. I had no choice, he thought. They were evil creatures. He wondered if the corrupted Masters still bore a small portion of who they once were. Could their good selves feel the pain? He shook away the thought. He couldn’t think about their pain—no matter how real it may have been. Their faces had shown him enough. The corridor opened up into a small octagonal room. Each edge, aside from the one containing the corridor, had a single door. James secretly hoped they led into rooms and not more tunnels. The Lean paused at one of the doors and turned back, or rather materialized his face in the back of his head. “Master Willup is here,” the Lean said. “I will have him open the door.” The Lean faded away. A moment later the sound of latches unlocking could be heard. Then the door slid open with a creak. Master Willup appeared. James gasped. Master Willup’s face was sunken—just like the corrupted Masters, now beyond dead and left to rot far behind. Two pale blue eyes peered out under drooping folds of skin. Long black sags hung above Master Willup’s cheeks and wiry, unkempt hair gave James the impression of a homeless man. Even the dying man’s hands looked misshapen. “Welcome,” Master Willup coughed, then continued, “…to Arnur.” Then the old man collapsed, sliding down the edge of the door only to land hard on the ground in a pile of saggy robes and old flesh. When Master Willup woke the look of death was even more pronounced. An awful disease inflicted the man. James kept his distance. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to catch it. As much as magic seemed to run rampant throughout Traea, he could only place so much trust in medical science here. The dying Master made Darl look like a youngster. More and more the Master began to look like the corrupted beasts that had attacked James. Thin, wheezy breaths were all that the man could produce. The room that Master Willup had locked himself into was nothing more than a bedroom fixed with a small stove, a straw bed covered in scratchy blankets, and a dark oak stool. Pea sat next to Master Willup on the bed casting short healing spells that did nothing more than relieve some of the man’s pain. Pea was no healer and James could not wield this type of magic. Darl took watch at the door leaving it slightly cracked. James took the stool and sat on the far side of the room. The Lean paced the corridor. “I have not seen such darkness in a hundred years,” Master Willup said. “Master Kellan, Warren, all corrupted beyond reason.” Master Willup coughed weakly. “How could this have happened? You’re holy men, preachers of the Great Fathers.” Peas said. “Even the most resolute can be weak of mind. I was able to withstand the corruption, but this disease now afflicts me,” Master Willup paused to cough, weaker than before. “It was the one who calls himself Nara’karesh. A beast from Loe.” “A lyphon,” James said, remembering the blood thirsty creature that had nearly killed him. Master Willup’s pale blue eyes dug into him. “If such a creature must be given a name it would be Loespawn. Evil runs through its heart, blood, and flesh. Not an inch of it is untouched by Loe.” “I thought lyphons can’t use magic.” “They can’t,” Pea broke in. “No magic was used. Not by the creature. He brought with him the blood from the land of Loe, straight from the great seas that run crimson with the suffering of the damned.” “The lyphon knew we were coming here,” Darl said. “That door was set as a trap for you.” Darl pointed at James. James shook his head. It had all been a trap, set by some dark magic. All he had had to do was touch the door. Luthien is so strong. He remembered Luthien’s army. How many were there? Ten thousand? Twenty thousand? The army had been so large that he hadn’t been able to tell its size. He had just seen dark silver armor stretching across the plain, surrounding the oak tree that made its home there. “Darkness descends on the Farthland,” Master Willup said. “If the lyphon was here…” Darl cut him off. “He could come back.” “It won’t be long before Luthien learns of the failure to destroy James.” Pea’s voice grew with concern. James closed his eyes. He couldn’t imagine what they were going to do next. Luthien’s influence seemed endless. Even in places thought sacred and hidden. How the lyphon had gained entrance into Arnur over night, let alone learned which path was the right one, was beyond him. “Come, someone aid me to my death. My judgment is