Darkin: The Prophecy of the Key (The Darkin Saga Book 2) (27 page)

“Indeed—Alejia Bloom—the greatest
Welsprin to ever live.”

“That bird is a
welsprin
?”
Adacon asked, confused, finally taking his eyes from the waterfall, returning them to the speck of red disappearing in the sky, flying toward the portal through which they had come.

“Yes—she is.”

“But how is that possible?”

“How is this?” Tempern abruptly replied; he turned instantly into an old man, much older than the original Tempern, frail and wrinkled, with a cane holding him up. In a flash, he disappeared and the young black-haired youth returned.

“I guess I have a lot to learn…”

“Well, I wouldn’t have believed you were a slave, with what you know already.”

“I completely forgot—what about the others?” Adacon emoted in panic.

“They’re fine. Secure on the foothills of Nethvale, probably getting on top of the Enox now,” he replied.

“Did you say the
Enox
?”

“Yes—you see, when she decided to absolve, she took up the name
Sleeping Enox,
her own choice—she prefers it now to Alejia.”

“Absolve?”

“Yes, she released herself from her corporeal obligation as a Welsprin
,
lent herself to Gaigas’s positive life-force,” Tempern tried to explain.

“You mean she died?” asked Adacon, uncomprehending.

“There was an evil, long, long ago—we destroyed it, but she decided to reinforce the good of the world—it’s a permanent decision you know—and so she
absolved
, as
us Welsprin name the decision, and became one with the planet entirely—no more physical form, only an addition to the pool of positive energy within Darkin.”

“But she’s a giant bird—she has a body!” said Adacon defiantly. For an instant, sorrow crossed Tempern’s perfect features; his supreme looks had been rent by an expression of sadness.

“The deepening of evil within Darkin—it forces form upon her, as a regurgitation of Gaigas—as a way to destroy the physical embodiments representing the terrible shift in the energy taking place within the planet.”

“She’s been…regurgitated?”
asked Adacon, more confused than before, wishing to lie back down and feel the breeze on his face.

“As a way of putting it simply—yes,” Tempern said. He looked sullen again.

“What, is it… is it a bad thing?” Adacon asked, sorry for unearthing a sore subject.

“No—it’s just that—she is my true love, Alejia, and I still mourn the loss, a millennium past—it was her decision to leave me. And I understood; it was for the better of the world—we agreed that it was the best thing to do. Most of the time I do not miss her, I don’t have to—but when she’s manifested, it becomes harder. I am forced to remember that time, all those years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s quite alright!” Tempern cheered up. “There has only been one other time when Gaigas manifested her life force to interact physically with the world—and only just yesterday was that second time—which is why I am sorry to say I did not notice you were in Nethvale struggling. I almost killed you all—she had just arrived. I had to—I had to see her first…”

“That’s why Krem couldn’t use his magic?”

“Precisely. I keep a field that prevents the use of magic, be it Vapoury or dark mana—I didn’t let it down, I was—”

“Strange as this sounds,” Adacon injected into the pause, “I think I understand, just a little.” An energetic smile streaked across Tempern’s youthful face.

“I know you do. Come on, to the falls, enough of this drivel for now!” Tempern replied. He ran off without warning through the field. Adacon felt as if he was a child, chasing playfully after him, racing toward the magnificent waterfall.

“So where on Darkin is this place? To what country have you taken me?” called Adacon over rustling wind.

“Darkin? Hah—you’re no longer on that planet, friend!” Tempern returned zealously. Adacon stared at his surroundings; strangely, he was not the least bit surprised by the mind-bending admission. He checked his pace to match Tempern’s.

*            *             *

They hiked through a winding forest trail that surrounded the waterfall’s rock basin, arriving on a small path between low brush. The air grew thick with the  intense spray rolling off from the falls. Heading directly toward the crashing waters, Adacon walked in astonishment, watching Tempern’s nimble jumps, from rock to rock, trespassing the white-foam stream that thundered downriver from the basin—in an instant Tempern had disappeared behind the gleaming column of the waterfall.

“Alright,” Adacon said aloud. He braced himself at the edge of the stream. Channeling his courage, he leapt, following Tempern’s path. Soon the wall of water met him, and in another hurdle he broke through the torrent, mist and fog, getting sprayed with cool water as he went. A damp cave greeted him on the other side. He walked in, the roar of the falls slowly diminishing behind him.

“Tempern?”

“Up here, just a bit farther to my home.”

Adacon scurried over slimy crags, watching his steps carefully. A lattice of hanging vines emerged as he delved deeper into the cave. Several minutes of marching under dripping stalactites and vines yielded an opening in the cave ceiling: above Adacon a living painting blinded his dilated eyes; it was as if the dark grey of the roof had transmuted into crystal cerulean, and a secret sky was cloaking the wide chamber canopy. Looking down, noticing his footfalls felt softer, he realized he now walked upon lush grass, just like on the plains outside the waterfall. Several white rabbits hopped away in his wake. In the distance, Adacon saw the sky above him spread down the walls of the cave, meeting dull grey rock again, leading to another tunnel.

“This is my sanctuary,” Tempern said. He rolled onto the green grass, floor to the misplaced sky, juxtaposing the wet granite they’d trodden through.

“Is
this
Darkin?” Adacon asked, wondering if they’d entered into a portal within the waterfall, emptying them into the prairie grove and sky that certainly did not belong where it was.

“Of course!” Tempern replied. He seemed an extraordinarily happy, care-free person, Adacon felt; Tempern lay flat on his back, staring up at the deep sky. “Watch above.”

Suddenly, Tempern was rolling his finger through the air, tracing something transparently in the sky—the unmarked blue suddenly grew speckles of glowing white, glimmering orbs that poked through against a darkening blue. Adacon watched in amazement as one after another—a million stars—lit the ceiling of the cave, a billion miles above, and the brilliant blue had become its nocturnal shade of black.

“What is this place?” Adacon asked in wonderment.

“My vantage point,” Tempern replied; then, the most astonishing sight yet transfixed Adacon: in the center of the starry night sky appeared a formless glow, slowly churning, spinning itself around, eventually drawing into a sphere, and from the glow appeared contrast and shape, ridges and formations—the sphere spun faster; hanging heavily in the sky was a sight Adacon had never seen before, a great green and blue globe that he instinctively knew to be a planet, though seen from a point of view he could never have imagined.

“It’s—beautiful…” Adacon whispered, finally lying down on the grass next to Tempern, looking directly up at the enormous world shaping above him.

“
That,
is Darkin—your home,” Tempern informed. He turned to see the expression on the slave’s face: Adacon was awestruck, fixed to the green-blue orb throughout which stretched bands of white, the vision causing in him a speechless fit of wonder and imagination.

“And your home too?” Adacon asked, wondering how much time Tempern really spent on Darkin.

“Not quite—not anymore,” Tempern replied. “I haven’t lived on Darkin in many thousands of years. It is only my portal there that Krem calls my home—Darkin is my birthplace, however. I don’t stay there though—I stay here, on Nexus.”

“Nexus?” Adacon asked wildly.

“The planet we’re on now,” Tempern replied.

“But how is all this possible! How can you move to another planet? I’ve read more than once that the idea of other planets is purely myth!”

“No—there are plenty of starcharters on Darkin who would tell you otherwise, tell you something closer to the truth,” Tempern replied. “And can you guess how this is all possible?” Adacon didn’t have to think very hard at all; he knew.

“Welsprin.”

“Precisely—you see, regardless of what occurs on Darkin, I no longer intervene directly, I cannot: I have such an understanding that I am not to manipulate the energy of Gaigas—not directly anyhow—your case is an exception; you are the first Welsprin since myself—you will be our successor!” Tempern explained.

“Successor?”

“Yes, you are but the third of our kind in many millennia—you will one day refine yourself to neutrality also.”

“But aren’t you going to train me, so that I can help destroy the Feral monsters that are murdering innocent people as we speak?”

“I am.”

“Thank you,” Adacon said, dispelling his fear that Tempern’s neutrality would prevent him from aiding them in the war.

“How do we become Welsprin?” asked Adacon.

“The one who taught me about my power—she said that it is the nature of the planet, an outward alignment of its energy.”

“You mean Sleeping Enox?” Adacon asked. Tempern nodded his head.

“So—you’re really an—an all-seeing god then?” Adacon said. He returned his eyes to the field of stars behind the turning planet above. “You can do anything you please, go anywhere you like?”

“No—quite the opposite. My field of vision is limited to Darkin, my Vapoury is affixed to her life force, which reaches out but a few hundred miles from the surface. I can also do little in the way of going anywhere I like; you see this portal—the one we’ve just come through—has been on Darkin since before my life began. We don’t know how it formed. Alejia was only told by those who taught her what I know now: that we have always known of the portal’s location, and that we must keep it forever secret.”

“So you don’t even know to where it goes—to where we are now?”

“No—we don’t know this planet’s location in the universe, if that’s what you mean. We simply know it as Nexus. I do hope you’re not let down already,” he chuckled.

“Of course not! I’m—well—a bit dizzy though,” Adacon replied. From his pocket he withdrew a small piece of parchment, folded many times over. Slowly unfolding it, he felt his confusion die away. He stared at something he understood completely—a small pink flower, delicately flattened, somehow preserved through his entire ordeal in Nethvale.

“That’s fine, I expect you to be confused. It is only by way of Krem’s convincing that I have decided to work with you so early in your life—because as much as I hate to admit it, that old wrinkled goof is right—there
are
times when a Welsprin must act, even if he’s felt the real essence of Gaigas as I have. Alejia taught me that much…” Adacon didn’t seem to hear anything, distracted with his small flower, which Tempern eyed curiously. Adacon put it away carefully, thinking hard about something. After another moment of silence, he spoke up again:

“Couldn’t you just go to Vesleathren and destroy him outright? Won’t the Enox do just that?”

“No—a Welsprin’s link to the planet, once developed strongly enough, prevents the use of destructive magic, or force of any kind.”

“You can’t even
sword fight
?”

“You know, I hadn’t thought of that—no, no I couldn’t.”

“I can’t believe that!”

“But it’s true—and because you have no depth to your connection, you maintain the ability to destroy things, be they good or evil.”

“But what about the Enox?”

“Although she gave herself to Gaigas, she can act as but a transport in her physical manifestation—no more directly can she partake in violence than that.”

“Ugh, this is all too strange, and it doesn’t make much sense,” Adacon said, growing tired of trying to make coherent the perplexity of his being an untempered Welsprin.

“That’s quite alright. Rest your mind for now—I promise you we’re going to have a lot of fun together,” came a childish energy from Tempern.

“But I think I’ll need to eat first, I’d forgotten how hungry I am,” Adacon complained.

“I’m sorry!” Suddenly the stars and planet above vanished, and the cool blue sky returned, accompanied by a mysterious breeze that rolled through the enchanted cave somehow; calmly popping into existence by Adacon’s side was a long wool blanket, atop which were many clay plates, each piled high with steaming food—it seemed Tempern knew every kind of meat, bread and cheese that Adacon loved, because they were all displayed now in front of him, patiently awaiting his hands. He remembered Krem’s strict policy on paying homage to Gaigas and awaited word from Tempern before he started eating—Tempern seemed to read his mind:

“First lesson Adacon; it is good enough if only in your mind you remember to be grateful that you receive nourishment. Don’t feel as if you must speak the words outwardly for them to be meaningful, nor that you must show your gratitude in some physical way—only
be
grateful, don’t prove externally that you are.”

Adacon sat, smelling the food now, the delicious scent wafting to his nose. He tried to make sense of Tempern’s lesson, but he only decided that he was never more grateful in his life to have food, and he wasted no time digging in. Tempern laughed amusedly as Adacon gorged himself.

XVIII: TO THE WESTERN SHORE

Calan’s hair whipped wildly in the hard-blowing easterly wind. She looked deep into the sunset, a calm pink glow that streaked scarlet and orange in places. Her ship had been at sea for weeks, and the Hemlin shore was only a day away, the dwarven captain had said—still Calan was entirely too restless, it had been over a month since Adacon left her. The dwarf-built vessel, christened the
Stonesea Island,
was large, built in the Bay of Dirmgaw; it had three red masts, dyed to a deep hue that matched its sails, boasting of dwarfcraft excellence. Dwarves were not known as ship-crafting adepts, but the Oreine had proven the common lore a misconception with their fleet of seaworthy vessels. Calan walked back along the starboard gunwale toward the dining-cabin entrance. The ship was quite long, Calan had realized after only a few days at sea—it took her five minutes to get from bow to stern. Gazing up at the emerging stars, Calan felt a longing stir within her; she wanted to be on land again, and no longer underneath the massive red sails.