World in the Satin Bag

(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.) As soon as he had finished his meal James slipped out of the keep and searched for Darl. He found the old man swinging a battered wood sword near the eastern wall. A soldier, who should have been walking the walls on lookout, seemed fixed on the activity. James found the situation laughable, after all Darl looked no more fit to swing a sword in battle than he. In a wide circle where Darl stood were a series of evenly spaced torches laid out specifically for the lesson. When he approached, Darl tossed another wooden sword up at him. He grabbed at it out of instinct, managed to knock the hilt clumsily with the back of his hand, and groaned as the flat end of the blade smacked him on the crown of his head. His Fearl quivered, but to his dismay did nothing more. A feeling appeared deep in his mind and he tried to decipher it. I’m on my own here, he thought. “Expect more where that came from boy,” Darl said. He glared and picked up the blade. It was long with enough room on the handle for two hands, and when he lifted it he found it to be far heavier than expected. “First things first. Stances. There are five basic stances. Do as I do.” First Darl raised his sword so it ran parallel with the ground—left arm at the end of the hilt and right arm at the front, right foot straight back and body facing towards the blade. This he called the ox and James mimicked it as best he could. Then Darl showed him the plow—the hilt near the waste and the blade pointing at an angle upwards—the fool—the blade pointed towards the ground from the waste—and then the roof—the blade pointing back at an angle away from the shoulder. The final position Darl called the near guard, holding the hilt to the side so that the blade ran back behind him towards the ground. He attempted to mimic them all. “Pathetic, but good.” “How could it be pathetic and good at the same time?” “It’s pathetic because you have no concept of what you are doing, and it’s good because you’re at least attempting to do something you are completely incapable of doing properly. Now, again.” James repeated the five stances and again Darl insulted him. As frustration built up inside of him he pushed himself harder and harder to get the stances correct. The motions seemed to get easier, only after a while the muscles in his arms began to protest. At first he ignored it. Then the pain forced him to groan and he dropped his arms from the ox stance. “A few minutes of hard work and you fall apart. That’s wonderful.” “Get off my back Darl!” he snapped. Darl grinned wide. “You think that Luthien’s men will just get off of your back when you cannot defend yourself? Do you think his assassins will give you time to rest before killing you? No, my boy, there are no breaks in the real world. And to think you intend to use magic. Magic will suck you out from the inside. Imagine that. Now you feel physical pain, but what if your insides felt like they were boiling? Perhaps you enjoy the sensation of your brain cracking down the middle?” Darl jammed his blade into the earth and let it stand. “I get it.” James lifted the sword and started again. He tried to let his mind wander, to avoid thinking about the aches in his muscles as he continued to push them beyond their limits. He hadn’t thought about what magic could do to him. Every time he had used it, there had been side effects. Mostly blurriness in his vision, but that had been on relatively simple spells. What if I have to kill someone? What pains would I feel then? Would I even survive? He came to realize the limitations of magic, above and beyond what he had learned in the book. Magic could kill me. After what seemed like hours, Darl stopped him and let him rest. He dropped like a rock to the ground and panted heavily. His arms burned like fire and he dared not touch them for fear of making it worse. A soft sigh of relief escaped his lips. How long must I stay here before I can save Laura? How much can I possibly learn in that time? It had occurred to him that he might be in the Farthland for many months. It would take twenty days to reach Teirlin’pur, assuming he could acquire a horse and ride from dawn to dusk, and even if he could reach that far unseen, his chances of ever reaching Laura were slim at best. He had no friends in Angtholand, and the Farthland had no allies there. He would be utterly alone. Darl came to him with a large clay bowl filled with water. He thanked Darl and drank quickly, feeling the cold liquid pour through his body as if it were rejuvenating his tired muscles. The aches remained, but he sighed deeply nonetheless. Then Darl snatched up one of his arms. He protested angrily, trying with what little energy he had to get his arm back. But Darl refused to let go, instead producing a small, round wood box. Inside was an off-white cream, which Darl dug his fingers into and began to rub over the sore muscles of James’ arms. Immediate relief came to James and he resisted no more. The salve, whatever it was, had a pungent odor, yet he ignored it as the soft sensation of

(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.) “What’s going on Pea?” James said. A few lanterns had been lit and Pea had cast a spell on a nearby vase that made it shine brightly in the room. Screams still rained in from the streets as people argued amongst themselves as to the nature of the sudden darkness and the earthquake. “I’m not entirely sure James.” Pea’s eyes didn’t meet his. “Is this to do with me?” Then Pea looked up at him and said, “Oh, no, I don’t think so.” He didn’t believe it. There had been too much of a hesitation in Pea’s voice. No, he knew that, whether directly or indirectly, the recent events involved him. Then the confused expression on Gammon’s face reminded him that the man only knew the lies that Pea had told at the gate. “I’m not who you think I am.” Gammon looked at him, brow curled questioningly. “Go on.” “I come from, well, another world.” Gammon breathed in deep as if ready to laugh, but stopped stiff when Pea gave him a stern look. “Pea, if this is some sort of joke…” “It’s not. Triska checked him. She’s up with the High Council.” Then Gammon turned to James. James looked away for a moment, and then returned the gaze. This is going to take some getting used to, he thought. Having seen Pea and Triska give him that same look, he had come to realize that it would be a common sight. “I don’t believe it…I mean, how?” “Some sort of old magic,” Pea said. Then James interrupted. “I came here looking for my friend. She was pulled in the same way. Only she may be in the hands of Luthien.” “Are you marked?” “Yes.” Then Gammon spoke to Pea hurriedly, “He can’t stay here! He will bring Luthien down on us all.” “Luthien would have to cross the Firing Rim and travel quite some distance to get here.” “Arlin City would hear about it long before they reached edge of the valley,” James said. “Right. Not to mention, unless he plans to conquer the Farthland and use its resources, his army would starve or break apart bit by bit. We’d likely stop him before he reached Arlin, or at least stall his army long enough to move James to a safer place, and, well, without proper planning he hasn’t much chance at the moment of getting here. Not for six months or more and not with a sizeable army.” “That doesn’t stop his assassins, spies, and the like from reaching this far into the Farthland.” Gammon’s concern began to spread through to James. He hadn’t considered the other methods Luthien might have to reach him. “He won’t kill me. For whatever reason he wants me alive.” The three of them stayed silent. James thought hard, feeling the Fearl pushing at his mind in a gentle throb. It seemed to calm him just enough to clear his head. With all that had been happening, his mind had become cluttered. Everything from what he had learned from the book Pea had given him, to the previous and current events seemed to build up in a tremendous mental tower blocking his thoughts. Home slowly slid away as he became more and more aware of what he would have to do to save Laura—if he could save her. That doubt came and went within him, yet he continued to push it back, unwilling to accept that he might not bring her home. He wondered what his parents were doing in his absence, imagined them frantically trying to figure out how to get him home. Then he remembered the man he, no, his Fearl had thrown into the trees in order to protect him. He couldn’t be sure if the man had lived or not. The man’s death would have made things horrible for his parents. A knock at the door broke the silence. Pea stood and went to the door. A few moments of arguing—in which Pea seemed to give in—Pea returned to the curtained room with Darl in tow. James sighed deeply and rolled his eyes ever so slightly so that Darl would have had to concentrate to see the motion. This he did not because of Darl, but rather that the man’s presence might mean he would have to explain himself and endure another long stare of bewilderment and awe. But Darl caught him and said, “I see rudeness never fails.” “I think in this instance,” Pea started, “James has deeper intentions than rudeness.” Darl’s eyes brightened. “And what might those be?” “I’m getting tired of this,” he said. “Every one of you has given me the same look. That piercing look. It digs into me like a tick.” Then Pea showed Darl to a seat, and in one long winded sentence managed to tell a brief version of James’ story. And, as James had anticipated, Darl’s face frowned and the look centered square into him. “Surprising, isn’t it?” Gammon said. “To think that this would happen now, here.” “To think I only came to speak with Triska, and instead receive the shock of a lifetime. Darkness and people from other worlds. What next? Lyphons?” Three was a long, steady silence. James spotted Pea’s face as it turned pale as the moon had once been. Then he said, “Pea mentioned that very word earlier…” The group all eyed Pea, who seemed to fold under the pressure instantaneously, but just as the little man opened his mouth to speak the door burst wide open with a thunderous boom. Four armor clad soldiers—the same armor as Gammon, only one had a red streak of metal running on both sides of