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Authors: Joseph A. Turkot

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BOOK: Darkin: A Journey East
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“How is it that you have lived safely for so long in this desert stronghold? Surely you must be the kind of man he hates most,” asked Adacon.

“Yes—I am of the mold that Grelion hates; he hates anything loving. But recall I am a Vapour, and in that right I still have the power to ask Gaigas to conceal me from all things with evil eyes. That is why I was overjoyed at your arrival, Adacon, for it had been nigh a century since anyone could see my home’s door and windows. Should you have had any evil in your spirit, even a mere drop, the whole place would have looked to you no different than any other sand dune.” Adacon sat absorbing all Krem had said, as did Erguile. There was more silence as the three puffed on their pipes.

“Alas it is time for a change in plans: I oppose the idea you suggested, dear Adacon. A journey east is not suitable for our company of three, such as it is. I know much of this fair country, especially the area surrounding the Solun Desert, and I hear many things. It is no coincidence that a most powerful rumor came to me from a winged friend the night before your arrival, Adacon. It is to go north, that I propose—out of this desert to reach the Vashnod Plains. It is on those plains that there lie two stone towers, prisons of Grelion. Rarely is there more than a handful of guards at each, I have noticed of late; and under cover of night I would have us assail one of the towers. Gaining that prison would strengthen our force a great deal, if the rumors hold true; an old friend of mine is being held there. His rightful name is Flaer Ironhand, and Grelion still knows not who he has captured—for if he did the tower would be guarded one hundred times stronger. If we can have this prisoner alone join us, we will be many times more powerful than as three,” Krem said.

“Sounds like a plan to me, eh Addy ol’ lad?” joked Erguile, tipsy with wine.

“Alright. We’ll do that then, Krem. I trust you have a mind well enough for getting this rebellion off its feet anyhow. How do you think we should go about this attack?” asked Adacon.

 

And with that question, Krem began to lay out his plan, and it sounded well thought out to Adacon and Erguile, as if he had been contemplating the strike for some time. After a good while they finished outlining the plan, and Adacon and Erguile grew tired.

“The night grows old on us; it is now time to get some needed rest before our departure tomorrow. Tomorrow afternoon I will fill your bags appropriately, with enough stores to last us a good few weeks. Come—let us turn now to our dreams for restoration. I’ll show you to your beds,” Krem ordered as he stood up and extinguished his pipe. He walked out of the room, beckoning them to follow. Adacon and Erguile extinguished their pipes and stood up to follow. Krem led them through several intertwining passages and they reached first a luxurious room for Erguile, who said good night to both of them and went to his bed. Krem continued on, leading Adacon a little way farther to his room. Adacon reached a room, just as fantastic as Erguile’s had been, and said good night to Krem, thanking him again for dinner. Krem turned and started to walk out, leaving Adacon to his peace.

“Wait, Krem…” whispered Adacon just before Krem was lost from sight. For a moment Krem disappeared into the hall before suddenly returning to the doorway. Something forgotten had suddenly flared into Adacon’s mind, and his voice was filled with fright.

“What is it lad?” Krem said, facing him.

“I didn’t want to speak of this in front of Erguile, partly because he doesn’t know the tale in full. As we camped last night, and I sat watch, I heard a creature howl twice—I searched at length each time, but in the black abyss of the desert I saw nothing. After a long while my fear was lost to weariness, and I didn’t hear it again. I went to sleep. When we awoke, we found that one of our swords was missing—one of Erguile’s. We traced odd tracks leading away into the desert, out into the direction we were not intending to travel. I don’t know what it was, but it scared me deeply; do you have any idea what it may have been?” asked Adacon, hoping Krem would have the words to dissolve his gnawing fears. Krem’s visage was overcome with a look of despair that lasted only a moment, and then it returned to calmness.

“No, lad. I cannot say I know what it was. Do not worry yourself tonight though, boy, for you are in Krem’s keep at least one night longer. Now get to sleep.” Krem left and closed Adacon’s door behind him.

 

IV: THE VASHNOD

 

Krem awoke first the next morning, uncannily early, and he made the others breakfast. Adacon and Erguile arose to the smell of freshly brewed tea and pastries, and the three ate in silence for a while.

“I have decided to make another slight change to our plans,” said Krem, breaking the silence. Adacon and Erguile were still groggy, but Krem was not; he had been up since sunrise.

“What do you intend to change?” asked Erguile. “Do you mean to say we’re not going to battle?” Erguile seemed upset.

“Hah, lad, don’t fret—you’ll have your fair share of battle; that I’m sure of. No, the change does not alter our chances of battle. Late last night, an unforeseen difficulty entered my mind. . .” Krem said. Adacon winced. “All that I wish to alter is our time of departure—I have decided we shall leave before noon, much earlier than we first decided. My reasoning lads, is that we shall reach the stone tower by nightfall, rather than in the middle of the night. We shall sack the tower under night’s cover still; I just do not wish to be upon the dunes after dark.”

“And why is that, old man?” asked Erguile gruffly. “Haven’t you magical powers at your disposal?”

“Yes I suppose one might say so, but what I fear does not heel to my Vapour,” Krem uttered.

“Eh? And whom is it you’re speaking of?” asked Erguile, growing quite baffled.

“Do not be troubled—it is nothing that concerns either of you: we are going north to cross the desert before night has fallen, and that is all I will speak of it,” Krem said. Never before had Krem seemed so stern in his wording, so sure in his resolve; Adacon still had not spoken yet, but he did not need to, for he felt he knew what Krem’s concern was—Krem must have changed his mind after hearing about the sword thief, and so he decided he would not query the topic, at least not yet.

They finished their breakfast and thanked Krem accordingly; even Erguile showed genuine courtesy. Krem and Erguile seemed to be forming quite the humorous relationship, Adacon observed. It was both like and dislike together in one, but thankfully it appeared that neither of them took matters to heart.

To the slaves’ surprise, Krem had already packed their sacks, having made time to do so early in the morn. Each one was filled to the brim, containing much food and water, along with some extra rations that might come in handy along the journey. There was also plenty of pipe-fill inside the sacks, Erguile soon found, as he prodded through his. Krem was attired in his usual garb—a dark purple robe and the emerald-encrusted hat—and he clutched his oaken staff in hand. Erguile fastened his armor in place and sheathed his sword. Adacon slung his quiver over his shoulder once again, and tucked his bow in place at his side. Time passed quickly as they made their last preparations, and then Krem held a prayer to Gaigas, asking for a safe journey.  Soon it was mid-morning and the party was set to move out—Adacon, Erguile, and the little Vapour Krem made their way out into the desert.

 

The sun was hot, already beginning to scorch Adacon’s arms as they made their way northward in a direct line. Krem used a softly glowing blue sphere-shaped device he called a
Relic
to align their course toward the northern sky; when Erguile asked how the thing worked, Krem had only laughed and said: “It is my magical powers, lad.” The three marched on under the rising sun, and soon Molto’s Keep was far from sight.

“And what of the bright purple robe you wear? Odd as it is fashioned, more pressing on my mind is the notice it gives to those that might seek us,” questioned Erguile, fearing the Vapour’s stark appearance against the yellow dunes.

“Don’t pay it any mind; you’ve forgotten my Vapoury, lad. Know we are concealed by my power,” Krem answered.

“I will take your word then. So, you’ve a good knowledge of this world’s map, is that right Krem?” asked Erguile as they pressed on, himself beginning to grow beads of sweat on his forehead from the overbearing sun.

“I expect I know most of what’s out there, though I cannot account for all changes of recent, most of which I reckon are a product of Grelion’s rule,” said Krem.

“Well what might you call this desert we walk, if you were to call it something other than hell,” Erguile returned.

“This forbidding place is known to all who have crossed it as the Solun Desert—the Solun, plainly put.”

“Solun eh? And what of our farm? Adacon and I have known it by nothing other than the farm; I’m sure it must have another name.”

“Indeed you have known it by no other name because it has no other name. All of the slave farms, numerous and scattered as they may be, are given numbers—nothing more. I believe the one you and Adacon escaped from is Felwith farm, number seventy-seven.”

“Felwith? I’ve never heard that before, what does it mean?” joined Adacon.

“Felwith is the name given to those who most directly serve Grelion himself—they are his greatest minions. Morimyr is their home, though they extend themselves much farther than its cold steps.”

“And what name do we give this tower we are now headed for?” asked Adacon.

“It is the tower of Ceptical, dear Adacon, and it is there that I hope we shall recover the greatest swordsman in all the land,” Krem spoke.

“Hah! It is
I
you speak of, old man. I’ve been fighting with swords since I was a child. All through my slavery did I and some others form our own secret sparring titles. Hah, and it was always I who held the highest most rank,” Erguile said arrogantly. “But not an easy thing, what we did. A good number of the men who came to fight with us were caught with their weapons, the dumb fools. Friends they may have been, but pity them I do not. It was their mistake to be not overly concerned with their going about here and there in proper stealth.”

“I never had any idea such clans existed on the farm,” exclaimed Adacon. “Surely I would have joined had any of you spoke of it.”

“Yes, it was a very cautious thing, and I always spoke with the slaves whom I thought would fancy such a thing—you, young Adacon, never caught my eye as one to fight.”

“I did practice as much as possible in my hut, with the space that allowed. I became quite good I think, over time. It was only after I slashed my walls a good dozen times that I stopped. Still, I retained the fighting arts in my mind, as I had learned from the different books I acquired.”

“I’m more surprised that you can read, Adacon, for I was the only other on the farm able to do so. How was it you learned?”

“I’m not sure—odd as it may sound—I suppose I was taught somehow, by someone, in my earliest years. As far back as I can remember I could already read fairly well, though I learned more over time as I found ways of getting books on the farm.”

“Ah! You too learned to steal from the wagons! I thought I was the only one who knew it possible. Their dumbfounded faces must have looked funny upon seeing the empty wagons.” Erguile laughed.

“Well I never spoiled an entire wagon, but I surely confiscated my share to read.”

“Ah, I see. Well I guess you missed out on the fine tobacco that sometimes rolled through.”

“Both of you seem rather learned for slaves, more so than I thought a slave ever could be,” said Krem with a touch of bitter-sweet in his voice.

“Hah, and smart enough you are for a dwarf of a man, without the girth mind you, and at the ripe old age of who knows how many centuries past!” Erguile joked and they all laughed.

 

The three roamed deeper over the dunes of the unchanging desert, stopping only briefly here and there for a drink of water. The sun began to fall in the western sky, and the scorching heat began to subside at last. Adacon wondered about the thief as they walked in silence, and his mind played the night over and over again in his memory. The unforeseen circumstance Krem had spoken of, it had to be his own mentioning of the creature—what else could have made Krem change their plans? After all, Krem said that the news came to him late at night, and that was enough for Adacon, though Erguile must have thought old Krem referred to an insight of magic. Either way, Adacon felt a slight fear, mainly because he knew not what he was afraid of. But if Krem had reason to keep off the dunes after nightfall, Adacon believed that it had to be something terribly evil. There would be a time to question Krem; it was not now, and it would have to be in private.

“Do you suppose we’ll actually reach the place anytime soon? I am growing tired, this wretched sand makes for hard footwork,” grunted Erguile, fatigue in his voice.

“The Solun can be very cruel when it wants to be. I fear we may not make it all the way to the tower tonight, but we must reach the Vashnod Plains at least,” Krem said.

“Have your estimates been misguided, poor Vapour?” mocked Erguile.

“No, but it is both of you whom I’ve misjudged, for our speed is lessened on your account,” responded Krem.

“Pah! My account? Surely I am stouter of leg than an old dwarf such as you…” Erguile said.

“He’s aided by unseen things Erguile, you must remember that,” Adacon spoke up.

“It is not your fault anyhow—the Solun breaks the strongest of men under its glare,” Krem reassured him.

“But will we be safe in the Vashnod for the night?” asked Adacon. “You spoke warily of staying out past sundown in the desert, so what of the plains?”

“My dear Adacon, to believe you are safe anywhere upon Darkin in the age of Grelion is folly, but I don’t think we’ll find trouble on the plains this night. It is mostly nomads roaming there, a desolate place really, and not many of Grelion’s men patrol it,” said Krem.

“Nomads? What sort of nomads?” questioned Erguile.

“The sort that take matters into their own hands, but if we are to leave them be I don’t think we’ll have trouble,” spoke Krem.

BOOK: Darkin: A Journey East
10.18Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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