Chapter Thirty One: Of Captain Norp and the Last Journey
(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
Chapter Thirty: Of Dark Interests
(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.) James sat on one of the ridges along the edge of the octagon. None of the others bothered sitting. Darl took a position behind Bourlinch as if ready at any moment to beat the memories out. James watched the water as it flowed down the tunnel off somewhere unknown. He was getting used to the smell now. It had easily been twenty minutes of them setting around as Bourlinch argued with himself over which tunnel was the correct one. At one point Darl suggested they just split up into each of them, but that idea was quickly shot down as Iliad explained how unlikely it would be that they would find a way out doing that. James wondered what would happen to them if they never found a way out of the tunnels. Even if they were forced to turn back he wasn’t sure he could trust Bourlinch’s memory. What if he forgets? We’ll be stuck here forever. Darl spoke in hushed whispers to himself. James could tell they were angry, bitter words, each phrase coming as a snap. Iliad tried going down one of the tunnels to see if there was an air current to follow, or some change of smell, but when he came back his face was as grim as before and going down the other tunnels proved just as useless. James felt helpless again. He sat alone and listened. “What if you read his mind?” Pea suggested. Triska shook her head. “The memories are buried deep. I don’t think I can pull them forward. I’d likely hurt us both by doing so.” “Oh.” “Something will jar his memory. I hope.” James wasn’t convinced. Triska was lying again, a white lie, but still a lie nonetheless. He wasn’t quite sure how he could tell, but something about the way she spoke when she lied gave her away and he took far too much notice in it for his own good. Deep down he hoped he could just believe what she said. The time went from twenty minutes to thirty, to forty five, and then an hour. Darl was pacing, grabbing and releasing his sword rhythmically. Iliad tried going down the tunnels once more and came back empty handed. James started to think. He wondered what would happen to Laura if they couldn’t get to her tonight. He wondered what would happen to him if they were caught. Tonight, he knew, might be the only night they would have the opportunity to search for her. Luthien would know what he was up to and would be sending a message east. Then he thought about the power that Luthien seemed to possess. It occurred to him that somehow Luthien might get back to Teirlin’pur overnight using some power that nobody really knew about, or didn’t discuss. Do the people here know about it? Are they keeping it quiet? What about the other cities in Angtholand? Do they know anything? The questions came out of him in a hurry and he knew that neither he nor his companions would have the answer to them. When the second hour rolled by without a single bit of progress, Bourlinch let out a cough and a murmur of words that nobody understood. Darl said something and then Bourlinch knelt down and dipped his hand into the water. James started to protest, but before he could do anything the crooked man drank and made an echoing ‘ah’ sound. James pursed his lips in disgust and saw the same looks on the faces of his companions. Then Bourlinch clapped his hands together, flinging bits of water in every direction and said, “I know now! I see it. I see path. Yes!” Before anyone could speak Bourlinch tore off down the left hand path. James got to his feet in a hurry and followed. But Bourlinch was too far ahead. The others were behind him, but as he ran the sounds of Bourlinch hiccupping and making odd noises dwindled. Then all the sounds disappeared. He continued, sloshing and slashing. The water grew deeper and deeper. Soon he found himself in waste deep water. The tunnel had taken a dive in altitude at some point behind, bringing the water higher and higher. A giggle sounded as he pushed as fast as he could through the water. He glanced back. Darl gave him a look of triumph. James frowned. He moved on, pushing with all his might to get himself through the water as fast as possible. The waterline rose again. A pair of small arms wrapped around his neck—Pea. He let the little man climb onto his back. Then the water rose to his chest. He cursed to himself, under his breath. Darl cursed out loud. It felt like forever. He led the others along the tunnel with Pea attached to his back like a little animal, torch held up to provide light. He groaned as his feet slipped on something gross at the bottom of the tunnel and he didn’t ask himself what it could possibly be. Soon his shoes were being encased in the mud-like goop and he had to fight even harder just to keep moving. He knew he could swim a lot faster than he could walk, but he refused to get any more of his body in the water. At least I don’t have to worry about my armpits smelling, he thought. The water let up slightly some distance away from when it had reached his chest. He sighed out loud and smiled faintly. The others seemed pleased too, especially Darl who let out a curse that sounded more like a cheer. Then the water rapidly dropped to his knees
Chapter Twenty Nine: Of Journeys in the Dark
(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.) “Marked?” Pea said, showing remarkable control of his voice. James nodded. “Assuming this is true, this is a horrendously negative turn of events. Marked…by Luthien. We have to presume that Luthien is reading his future too. Which means that Luthien must know this creature.” “No,” James said. “I don’t think Luthien knew him, probably never even heard of him. Most likely anyway.” “The laws of magic…” “I know the laws.” In fact, he did know the laws, most of them at least. He had read them in the etiquette book. They were more general understandings that laws. Nobody had set down the rules of how magic worked. It had always been there. In a strange way, James thought of magic scientists casting out theories, digging up evidence, and doing experiments to prove some point. “Magic cannot be used on the unknown.” “Which is precisely why Luthien must know this man.” James didn’t argue because he couldn’t. He didn’t truly know enough about magic or Luthien, only what he had read, and he had learned already that books didn’t always have the answers. Pea split away from him and sat down on the opposite end of the table. James gave Bourlinch food and water and dug up the etiquette book from his things. He flipped it open and began reading through the new entries. A hundred pages slid by before James realized that night was falling thick outside. The room had been lit by candles and lamps at some point during his reading, and he assumed it was Pea’s doing. Concern came over him. Triska and the others weren’t back yet and the street outside was strangely silent. Bourlinch lay with his mouth gaping open, drool dribbling from his mouth; Pea slept against the back of a chair, head tucked low and little murmurs and snores escaping his lips. James stood up. He wished for a moment that there was a window in Bourlinch’s shop, but for some reason no one had ever built one. It was like being in a giant box with only one exit, or like being in the belly of a ship in a locked room with only one porthole to look through. He imagined the road as the ocean, empty and blank, and calm. He went to the door and opened it. Outside the night air was cool and a soft breeze blew, lifting the loose strands of his hair. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. The air smelled sweet and unpolluted. A faint scent of pine was there too. He took a few more steps outside. The horses shifted uneasily as if afraid or bothered at his appearance. The three Blaersteeds only looked at him. He gravitated towards Mirdur’eth and gently stroked the steeds’ nose and mane. Mirdur’eth showed no fear, only the intelligence of a beast who could think underneath deep, brown eyes. James smiled faintly and laid his head against the steeds’ nose. He sniffed the fur. He would have cringed long ago in Woodton at the scent of a horse, hay, and horse droppings, but tonight he could only feel calm with it. For a moment he felt like he was out of body, being whisked away to some other world, somewhere happier and without the darkness he had experience. He imagined home without the Council. He imagined his life with Laura and his parents and how one day he and Laura would go to the same college and grow up together as best friends. A broad smiled graced his face now as he thought about this. He saw himself for a moment on a stage accepting a degree and being cheered for by family and friends. Then he came back to reality, dropping from the fantasy world he had created in his mind. He leaned back and looked Mirdur’eth in the eyes again. The steed understood somehow. He knew far too well how smart the Blaersteeds were. His gazed drifted down the long thoroughfare. All the shops were closed up; faint, glimmering lights shined in a few. Many homes lines the streets farther down and the crisscrossing network of alleys created numerous dark places where anyone still wandering the streets that traveled there would be considered suspicious. He put his hand on Mirdur’eth’s nose, rubbed gently. Then his mind suddenly became numb. His crippled left hand came up and touched his forehead, but for some reason he couldn’t recall moving it. Then everything went blank and his eyes closed. Dark encircled him and then a flash of light, a flicker of something, and he was in the strange room again, transparent wall and all. Luthien was there, eyeing him with malice. The vision cleared suddenly and all he could see was the horrid, frightening look on Luthien’s face. He shivered and realized he had been tapped again. He wondered why. Why does he keep looking, he thought. He should know my future already. It can’t change if he already knows it. Why does he keep at it? He couldn’t answer the question; he had no theories. A small dribble of sweat rolled down his forehead, to his cheek, and fell to the earth. Mirdur’eth grumbled and neighed gently. Then a strong hand gripped his shoulder and he found himself being yanked out of the dark, away from the street, and into Bourlinch’s home. The door slammed violently, knocking some things from the walls. The arm tossed him to the ground and he looked up into the raging face of Darl. “What the hell are you doing?” Darl said, raising his hand. “No, don’t speak. You know better than to be out. I don’t want to
Chapter Twenty Eight: Of Stranger Friendships
(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.) By the time dinner had come and gone James had a sense of accomplishing absolutely nothing. He hadn’t contributed to the plan to spy on the towers, nor had he been involved. He had simply sat around doing little of anything for an entire day. Even when Iliad, Triska, and Darl had returned from the inner city he remained, to put it simply, antisocial. Something inside him made him not want to be involved with the others. He knew it had to do with the way they looked at him. For some reason it felt much like how he had been looked at when those he had first come to know found out he had been marked by Luthien. He still didn’t know what that meant for sure, but he knew all too well that Luthien wanted to know about him. He wondered what it would be like to know the future. Dinner turned out to be far more respectful than in previous nights. Bourlinch’s shop had a wood stove and a modest supply of wood and kindling. Before long the flames were crackling, pots were steaming, and a meal of rice, eggs, and salted meats were laid out on the wood table. James ate his fill. Mirdur’eth rustled outside, perhaps sympathetically or out of irritation at being tied up for so long. The horses and Blaersteeds had been relieved of their panniers. James proceeded to unpack a blanket, found a spot on the far side of the room, and laid down. He didn’t sleep, or rather, he couldn’t. He watched the walls while the others muttered to themselves, then soon everyone had found a place on the floor and all the talking ceased. Silence did not reign. Bourlinch, still tied up on the opposite side of the room, sobbed and whimpered. The sound traveled over the room as if it were a roar. James could hear Triska sniffling. He sensed the melancholy that had come over the room. He frowned at not being able to see some joy in what they had accomplished. They had crossed the Fire Rim, escaped Luthien, and run all the way to Teirlin’pur. Laura was so close he could almost see her as a real being before him. Her face was forged in his mind, a constant reminder of the one thing he had promised to do and that the entire town of Woodton told him he couldn’t. The night was wearing thin by the time he fell asleep. REM took him for a ride, but it all seemed so short. He dreamt of Luthien again, in the same strange room with the same bizarre transparent ceiling. Then he woke with a start and it was morning, the rays of the new sun sending a soft glow into the room. He wasn’t sure how long he had slept, but he knew that Luthien had tried to read his future again. James sat up and looked around. Bourlinch’s head slumped over to the side and a thin trail of drool wandered from the gag, to his lip, to his chin, and onto the front of his tunic. James might have found it comical if last night had never happened. He looked over at the others. Darl lay with his mouth hanging open and blankets half covering his pasty white upper body. Pea lay curled in a ball like a cat, occasionally fidgeting, and Triska faced away from him, but from the way her chest moved up and down in slow motions he knew she was asleep. Iliad, on the other hand, slept with his back propped up again a wall, bow and arrow in his hands, and his eyes half open, like something from a horror movie. James shivered. He stood up and stretched. He sniffed his armpit and cringed. They smelled distinctly like rotting onions, having not been cleaned in a long while. Somehow he knew he was getting used to his own filth, though, or at least would get used to it soon enough. James walked over to the wooden table in the center of the room. He ran his fingers delicately over the wood, feeling the cracks and bumps. His eyes wandered to the scars on his hands. He flexed his fingers; his left hand was still in the same condition. I wish I were right handed, he thought. Then he looked at Bourlinch. Bourlinch coughed and startled awake and in that brief instant their eyes met, as if Bourlinch had known who was staring at him before waking. Crust had formed under the Daemonkind’s eyes and long streaks where tears had flowed discolored the already grayish skin. James walked over to where Bourlinch was tied; the Daemonkind flinched as if expecting to be struck at any moment. James simply leaned low enough to make eye contact. For a moment he was mesmerized by those eyes, curious even of who this creature was and where he had come from. He pondered what sort of life Bourlinch would have without magic. “I’m…sorry,” James said, for lack of anything else to say. He spoke soft and calm, pulling up a chair and sitting down nearby. “I am. I don’t know what you must be feeling. I don’t know what it must be like to know you have had everything taken away from you. Not in the same way at least.” Bourlinch looked at him with peaked interest, eyes wide and fixed. “Have you eaten?” Bourlinch shook his head. James stood up, went over to the stove and produced a small chunk of bread from a loaf and filled a wood cup with water. He gestured at Bourlinch. “If I remove that gag,
Chapter Twenty Seven: Of the Inner City
(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.) There was a knock at the front door to Bourlinch’s place of business. Everyone stayed still for a moment, then another knock came and Darl got up and opened the door a hair. The conversation that started was loud enough for everyone to hear. James knew immediately that the person at the door was a soldier. He could hear the gentle rustle of chain mail and the light tapping of the wooden end of a spear on solid ground. “What?” Darl said. Great, James thought, just start off with rudeness. “Sorry to bother you sir,” the soldier said with a voice that gave away his youth, “but old Early from two doors down reported some unusual activity here.” “What kind of unusual activity?” Darl’s grumpiness increased. “Magic being used. Old Early is sort of a sensitive man. Knows a lot of things most people don’t that are Blood-less.” “I see. Well, this is a healer’s shop.” The soldier was silent for a moment. “So it is.” “So, magic would not be all that uncommon in a place like this now would it?” “No sir, I suppose not. Mind if I come in?” “I do. This is a rather private affair and I prefer not to share it with someone who hasn’t aged enough to grow a beard.” “I see, sir. I do have the authority.” “I realize this, but I think it rather rude to impose upon someone who has no desire to share personal information outside of these walls. Would you think it fair and wise for me to show up at your home and start gallivanting into your little private world? Perhaps you’d see it fit to allow me to watch you sleep at night?” “Forgive me sir. I meant no offense. Just doing my job.” “None taken, but do work on your manners. Good day.” “Good day.” Then Darl closed the door and latched it. The old man turned and headed back into the room, a slight grin underneath his beard. “You learned that bit about manners from me,” Pea said. “No doubt.” “I hope you know that plagiarism is the third cousin of Evil.” James gave Pea a confused look. “Then who is the second cousin?” “Grumpiness.” They all had a laugh at that, even Darl. Triska made effort to suppress her laughter, but couldn’t. When the laughter subsided James became serious; his smile faded away and he waited for everyone to calm down or take a seat in the few chairs around the long wood table before speaking. “Iliad,” he said, “are you sure she is in one of the towers?” Iliad nodded. “How can you be sure?” “Of all the places that Luthien would or could keep her, the towers are the safest.” “They’re well guarded,” Darl said. “More so than in Arlin City, and for good reason. The Adul’pur in Arlin City was powerful, but not nearly as powerful as the enchanted gems that protect Teirlin’pur. The Adul’pur could protect little more than the keep and the highest most regions of Arlin City, but with the number of gems that Luthien has fixed in place on each of the towers, it would be impossible to use magic of any sort against the inner city. The walls would be undamaged. Not even a scratch” “It only makes sense he would put her in the most fortified and hardest to get into place in the entire country.” “The question is how do we get in.” James let his gaze fall to the rusty wood table, eyeing the scratches and cracks. “We have a few days at the most before someone really begins to suspect things are out of place. Healers don’t just shut up shop unless it’s a serious emergency.” Darl glanced over to where Bourlinch fidgeted with his binds, tears still streaming from his face. A gag had been put in his mouth so he couldn’t do much more than mumble and sob. “We close up the shop for now.” “Put up a sign,” Triska said. “James looked bad enough when we came in to require deep healing. Such processes can take a few days, sometimes.” James looked at his arms. Most of the wounds had healed, some were scabbed. He ached but didn’t feel the horrid pain he had been living with for what felt like ages now. “I look like I could still use some healing,” he said. “It might work for a little while.” “Okay,” Pea said, “now that that is solved, how are we going to figure out which tower this girl is held in? We can’t just waltz up and say, ‘gee officer, I’d sure love a tour’.” “Surveillance. If the girl is in one of the towers, they’ll be bringing food no doubt, or attending to her somehow.” “Unless she’s already dead,” Darl said. “No! She’s not dead!” James screamed at Darl. “It’s possible James, and you damn well know it.” “She’s not! She can’t be dead. Don’t say that!” He glared at Darl; Darl glared back. But James refused to lose this match. He fixated his eyes on Darl’s and never faltered, until ultimately Darl looked away. “So, how do you propose we do this?” Pea said. “It’ll look suspicious if we just all sit around watching.” “Oh, yes I know this. There are five of us. James, you have to stay behind. It’s too much of a risk to have you walking around.” Iliad took a moment to clear his throat. “Pea should probably stay behind as well. Unfortunately it looks like Littlekind are not all that common here. It may mean nothing, seeing how few Littlekind are found out this far east anyway,
Chapter Twenty Six: Of the Golden City of Crystal
(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.) It was day, the sun gleaming above, casting brilliant yellow rays over Teirlin’pur. The rays struck crystal, cascaded down in all directions like leaves in the wind. The city could have been called City of Amber as far as James was concerned. It glowed like an enormous gold nugget. Tall snow covered mountains, clear blue lakes and rivers, and verdant, moss green fields, where thick groves of equally green trees made their home, paled in comparison to the impending beauty of Teirlin’pur. They rode, James now turned away from the city as Mirdur’eth pulled him along, and before long they were at the mouth of a wide thoroughfare. They took it west, avoiding the minor roads nearby. Men lumbered along the sides of the road, pulling along barrels or other heavy objects; women laid out clotheslines, attended to children, or simply hustled through side alleys to business unknown. There were all manner of strange creatures that James had never seen before, even in fairytales. Serpents, birds, bovine, and things unrecognizable comprised these creatures, yet each bore a similarity to Humankind, walking upright, talking, and otherwise acting as though they weren’t strange at all. James saw few Littlekind—no Elves, Brownies, or Moss People—and of the dozen gryphons perched on either side of the thoroughfare he gave the utmost attention to neither. He had experience enough with Tagron to know better than to address these gryphons. Thoughts of Tagron floated through his mind. He thought of the last words the gryphon had spoken to him. Beware the eye. Look to the western sunrise. Instinctually he did, peering delicately westward as if those words held more meaning. He wondered how Tagron had known what would happen, but then he had already learned that gryphons seemed to just know things. How am I supposed to beware the eye? He can see my future whether I want him to or not. They stopped short of a tall set of buildings covered in what could have been strange engravings or intentional bird feet-like grooves. They were similar to both and James made no assumption as to which was the truth. The windows were worn and cracked at the seams, but otherwise the buildings were holding together. Triska appeared at his side, kneeling to speak softly to him. Her face was warm with a faint smile, but James could see the worry in her eyes. “There is a healer’s shop here,” she said, gently touching his arm. He winced. “They may be able to help you, or direct us in the right direction. Stay here for a moment.” Then she was gone. James felt utterly helpless being unable to move without the help of the others. He couldn’t see where Triska had gone, or what lay in front of Mirdur’eth. People walked by, some noticing him and others either ignoring him intentionally or unaware that he was there or not caring whatsoever. A sense of bewilderment came over him. He had expected too much of the people of Teirlin’pur. He expected savages as evil and maniacal as Luthien, yet here he could clearly see that the people of Teirlin’pur were actually not unlike the people of Arlin City, despite the difference in races. People here seemed so alike to the people of Arlin City in how they moved and acted. They walked and talked amongst themselves as if no war had ever been started, as if they were oblivious to the reality of it all. Someone rustled around behind him. He turned to look back but couldn’t see anything. When he faced forward a twisted face sat inches from his nose. He stifled a yelp and tried to move away, only pushing himself deeper into the gurney, and into pain. The face was human and yet not. It bore a long nose, wrinkled and broken in a number of places as if the man that owned it had been in far too many fights and lost, and two gleaming eyes that seemed to glisten and change color randomly. The skin looked sandpapery, bumped and covered in all manner of ugly imperfections. And when the mouth of yellowed, broken teeth opened, a foul odor slipped into James’ nose and he had to fight just to keep from cringing. “Burns. Cuts. Wounds. Ever magic. Ever magic,” the non-human said in a slightly masculine voice. “Danger. Pain. Oh, such pain. Yes.” “This is Bourlinch,” Triska said. “He’s a Spellweaver healer.” “I am Daemonkind. Oh yes, so wounded. So wounded.” Bourlinch took hold of one of James’ arms, examining it at an unnaturally close angle. James flinched and yelped in pain at the touch. “Like Nub,” he said behind clenched teeth. Triska nodded. Bourlinch leaned forward and sniffed James’ arm. He tried to get his arm away but couldn’t. The man gave him the chills. “Farthland stench and…other. Not Angtholand.” “I-I…” “I told you Bourlinch, we’re from the north.” Bourlinch sniffed the air. Mucus vibrated in the back of his nostrils. “Farthland stench. I smell it. And other. I smell other. No matter. Inside. Come.” Then Bourlinch hopped away and hobbled out of view. Darl and Iliad helped James stand and guided him around Mirdur’eth and into one of the tall buildings. Pea scuttled to the side while Triska tied the horses and Blaersteeds up and closed the door. Once inside Bourlinch forced James onto a long wooden table. He took in his surroundings. Rugs and all manner of woven materials hung from every wall, every support post on the ceiling, and on just about every surface in the place, none of which bore any designs that looked remotely interesting. There were small tables and broken chairs in one