Chapter Twenty Two: Of Reason Lost, War Rising
(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.) They rode for hours before coming to the bridge crossing over the Nor’kal River. The deep blue of clean water rushed by at surprising speeds, allowing little place for rocks or anything else to settle. Only a few enormous rocks that acted as supports for the bridge made homes in the speedy waters. The wooden planks were purposefully woven in such a fashion to provide strong support for anything and everything that might want to cross. The bridge could support wagons, if needed, and James gathered from the markings in the wood that it was a well used path at one time. They crossed easily, the wood only creaking a few times in protest as the horse and Blaersteed hooves crossed, clanking and clinking along. Soon they were beyond the bridge riding through patches of forest, bushes, and tall grasses. A road quickly presented itself. It showed signs of lack of use—branches and bushes hanging over the sides and a lack of fresh tracks from people, animals, or vehicles—and it was here that James saw the distant Fire Rim. It was a wall of smoke and ash, gray as the thick fog of the coast in the morning, gray as the night underneath thick rain clouds. There were great plumes of fire and black smoke that dotted the landscape there, ancient fires that had burned for centuries and would continue to burn for as long as the magical barrier held the flames at bay. He wondered just how it was possible that the fire could rage on for so long. Eventually the fires would lose their fuel as everything burned to bits. But, somehow the fires continued on as if fed by magic or something worse. It suddenly occurred to him that he knew next to nothing about the Fire Rim, only the nature of its existence. It was a dangerous place, but he had no idea what dangers they would face. Will there be terrible monsters there, he thought. As much as he hoped otherwise, he knew that something dark and mysterious had to live there. It was a frightening place that would make a wonderful home for the frightening beasts he had already seen in his travels. And, underneath all these thoughts and concerns were further thoughts, deep and untouchable. He feared for Laura. It would take them close to a month to get to Teirlin’pur. The distance was too great for even the Blaersteeds to ride continuously. They would have to stop and rest as soon as they reached the edge of the Fire Rim. He was weary of the journey ahead. With so much ground to cover and with Luthien nipping at their heels it seemed inconceivable. He wondered if more assassins would be sent their way, or if they would encounter them on the trail. They had been lucky at the Summering Rocks. Too lucky. He dreaded facing more assassins who could wield the Shadow Horses. Iliad had caught them completely off guard, and even James had surprised them with the fist of water, but James knew that they wouldn’t have that luck again. Word would have traveled, somehow. Luthien would know that he wasn’t a simple boy anymore, that he could use magic with force. Luthien would know that he couldn’t be taken without a fight. They crossed the bushy terrain easily; the horses and Blaersteeds made no sound along the way. North were the beginning formations of the Nor Marshlands—dark terrain, pools, swamps, and a faint smell of decay. The wind traveled southward strong enough to bring the scent with it. James didn’t pinch his nose or cringe; the smell didn’t bother him enough, but he got an idea of the type of terrain there. There was a swamp in Woodton. The town called it Burly’s Bog, but he had always known it as the Collective of Useless Waste because people used it like a dump. The water had come there due to some sort of irrigation disaster, something to do with an accidental divergence of the Stillwater River that let some of the water flow elsewhere. The excess water flowed into a slight dip in the earth where it created Burly’s Bog, much to the chagrin of one Alfred Burly who, at the tender age of eighty, demanded that the city pay for the damages to his backyard. The city asked him to move at their expense and he strictly refused, deciding rather to remain in his ramshackle home to torment anybody who happened to come by to have a look at the new ecosystem. Ironically enough that same ecosystem was made into a germ factory in a matter of days. No frogs made homes there and the mosquitoes were too afraid, or smart—James guessed the former. The journey dragged on. Occasional conversations broke out. Discussions of random things like who would cook on the first night or who would tie the horses when they stopped. There was a general silence about anything of vast importance in the group. James could feel it and it made him glad. He didn’t feel like addressing anything that might prove difficult. He had enough on his mind as it was. They were leaving familiarity and entering a land full of people that had no apparent distaste for what Luthien was doing; they were traveling through a dead zone and they were doing it all under the radar of Luthien and his men. After a time, as the light faded beyond the horizon and the landscape became thickly dark, Iliad halted the group and dismounted. He set quickly to putting up a fire and the rest dismounted and began to unpack for the night.