(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 made camp the following afternoon after following the Nar River south and crossing a wooden bridge wide enough for two carriages to pass at the same time. Iliad guessed they had traveled a good sixty miles; James knew it would be several days before they reached Sem’pur. Along the riverbed they washed the filth from their clothes until the fabric no longer stunk. Triska took a moment to sprinkle the petals of little green flowers on their clothes, and before long all the stench of the sewage lines were lost. The first night proved eventful. Nobody had asked James about his hand, and he had made no effort to discuss it. Even Triska, who normally seemed aware of injuries at all times, being a healer and all, was oblivious. James sat in the dirt silently. “You came for me,” Laura said, cool and collected, looking at James with her bright green eyes. He nodded. “That’s amazing.” “I don’t think so. I had to do it. You’re my best friend.” “I know, but, I mean, you came all this way just to save me. That’s truly amazing.” He nodded again. “And…you…how did you do that back there?” “Do what?” “Magic.” Now he grinned. He showed her the Fearl and explained everything to her. He told her about his parents and the Council, and how he had come to the Farthland only to see it destroyed by Luthien. He explained how the Fearl worked and about Dulien. He went on and on, saying everything he could think of, hardly taking a breath. Then Laura jumped on him and hugged him. His mouth closed, his last few words muffled, and then he hugged her back. When she pulled away a few tears fell from her face. She smiled warmly at him. He smiled back. “Thank you.” He nodded. She looked at his hand. He tried to hide it, but she grabbed his wrist. “What happened?” “It’s nothing.” “What do you mean it’s nothing? It’s soaked in blood. You would have cried for hours back home.” “We’re not at home.” “You said Triska is a healer right?” “Yes.” Laura walked away and called for Triska. When Laura returned, Triska pushed her gently aside. James raised his hand to her instinctually. The plump woman grabbed hold of his wrist. He winced. She untied the fabric and exposed the huge gash in his hand. The blood had begun to congeal, but he could see the flesh beneath the skin. “You should have told me sooner,” Triska said. “It’s nothing, really,” he said. “Nothing?” Triska gently ran her fingers over the wound. “Don’t pretend to be tough around your friend. This could have gotten infected. And now it’s going to hurt like hell to heal.” James didn’t say anything to that. He couldn’t imagine the pain being anymore than he had already experience. Triska set to work on his wound. Spurts of magic made the skin tingle. He sensed pain, but he ignored it, even when it grew in intensity. All he managed was a wince. He watched the skin as it slowly closed. He felt bones rearrange. Then a few minutes later Triska let go of his hand. He examined it. A scar ran from the beginning of the knuckle of his middle finger all the way to an inch away from his wrist. In a few weeks time it would be indistinguishable from the others scars on his body. When he flexed his fingers they only worked slightly. He touched the hand with his right. The sensation hurt; he winced and let go. He flexed the fingers again. They worked, but it felt as if all of his fingers had been jammed against something. He shook his hand and looked up. “Thanks,” he said. Triska started to walk away, placed a hand on Laura’s shoulder and gave a warm smile. Then she left to join the others. “So you can use magic?” “Yeah. It’s…” “Cool!” He chuckled. “Yeah, it is.” “So, do something with it. I don’t know, lift me up or something.” “I don’t think I can right now.” “Sure you can!” He shook his head. “No, it’s not worth the risk. I’m not trained like Triska or Pea. They’ve been doing this for years and years. And with my hand mangled like this,” he held it up, “I’m at a disadvantage. I’m left handed.” “Oh,” she said, disappointed. Then she changed the subject. “Where are we going?” He explained the journey to Sem’pur and the Luu’tre and its captain. “We’ll be safe for a while,” he said after he had finished. She nodded. “Have you met everyone?” She shook her head. “I met Triska. She’s very nice. I was afraid to ask the little guy what he was though, and the old man freaks me out.” He laughed. “Well that sounds like Triska. She’s a nice woman. The little one is Pea, like the vegetable.” “Why does he call himself Pea?” “Pantifilus the Extraordinarily Abnormal. P-E-A.” “Oh. Well that’s interesting.” “Indeed. And the old guy is Darl. He’s known as the grumpy one around here.” “He seems it.” She laughed. “Iliad is the other fellow with the bow. I think it’s about time to eat actually.” James led Laura to where the others sat. Together they all ate. Nobody said much of anything, not willing to discuss all that had happened until they were safely in the water. Then everyone went to their separate places and fell asleep. The days went by quicker than James imagined. He was cautious every moment now. Iliad took watch on the second and third nights; Darl accepted the watch after that. James hoped that
