They pressed on several more miles before deciding to pass off the slave road for an inviting glen, and there the three sat by a tree and fixed a meal as properly as they could manage. The grass was nearly dry, and the very aura of the land seemed shifted from that of the foreboding darkness they had come through. Somehow, Adacon reckoned, the trees and bushes that grew thicker about the land signaled some prevailing hope for their errand; they had made it through the harrowing ordeal in the swamp alive, save for losing two horses and a member of their own. Flaer managed a small fire under an old maple tree by way of a spark that came from the tip of his sword.
“Your magic—I mean—Vapoury, is incredible, Flaer,” Adacon stammered. Flaer looked up from the salted piece of meat he was roasting to provide Adacon with a wink.
“Odd as this may come across, I can’t wait to get to Erol Drunne and lift your curse, so that I can talk to you,” Adacon said, maintaining eye contact with Flaer. Flaer looked away and down, tending to his meat.
“It is not odd, Adacon, to wish to speak with him. Nor is it odd you find the world so wondrous even in the face of mortal danger. You have been so oppressed that everything new is exciting, and better than slavery, I am sure,” said Slowin.
“Krem said the rebellion would start with me, that fate had decided it,” Adacon said. The fire leaped up while he chewed on a fresh-smoked rind.
“Krem doesn’t believe in fate, but in Gaigas—so he must have jested. But I do think he meant it when he said you would begin the rebellion. A slave army to topple Grelion, I think he had in mind.”
“But you speak as if the plan has changed from that?” Adacon queried.
“Well, not entirely: It is Vesleathren’s return that alters the quest at hand, but a slave army will be required nonetheless. It is, after all, Grelion who reunited Darkin’s free people only to later shatter them, leaving them as they were at the end of the Five Country War.”
“Please tell me more of the war?”
“No—not now anyway.”
“But…” Adacon pressed his luck, but then Flaer looked up and shook his head, glaring icily.
“And the one who assailed us on the marsh, what of him? Do either of you know?” Adacon pushed further.
“I am afraid not,” Slowin said, glancing at Flaer, who looked up again from his food only to show that he didn’t know either. “I do know of Delfog the Fire Wyvern, whose offspring Flaer slew back in the swamp.”
“You knew the fire dragon?” Adacon squealed.
“As he disappeared, did you hear the stranger yell: Holfog, spawn of Delfog?” Slowin asked.
“Yes, I didn’t make the meaning of it.”
“Delfog was the biggest wyvern to ever live, larger than many dragons, it is said. In the elder age of Darkin, known to some as the Iinder Age, Delfog descended upon this very country of Arkenshyr during the first great war of Darkin. It is told in legend that it was on the plains of the Vashnod that a great Vapour struck Delfog down, causing the crater there known as the—”
“Vashnod Eye!” Adacon said, cutting him off.
“You know of the lore then,” Slowin replied.
“Krem told me briefly of Molto and his Spirited Winds magic.”
“Then you should know that if the stranger spoke truth, we have slain a descendent of the very wyvern that bore the flame of the Spirited Winds,” Slowin explained.
“This is glorious—provided it is no ill omen of more dragons to come…”
“I am wary to believe the stranger’s words, but with Vesleathren about, I am apt to have an open mind. Besides that, the sheer power that man possessed; I am afraid that without Flaer, we would have all—” Slowin was cut off this time by Flaer, who kicked at the fire to extinguish it. Flaer sent his eyes to Slowin and bade in gesture that the party should set forth again. Adacon decided that Slowin’s grim reflection was of no aid to them now, as they had passed through unharmed.
“Come,” Slowin commanded Adacon. “Our errand takes us to Kalm Point.”
Adacon harkened and soon the three were marching again east on the gravel road. Along the way Adacon saw several paths cutting away from the gravel road, each one going in a different direction.
“What are those other trails?” Adacon asked.
“They are the different trade routes. North to the country of Hemlin-Auk, and south to Great Uthner Island. In these times only Grelion uses them, and so they have all become known as the slave trade routes, though they were known by different names long ago.”
“Grelion has corrupted much in—” Adacon began, but he stopped midsentence as Flaer shot him a glance commanding silence, and it was clear that Flaer had grown stern as the cape drew close.
They entered into the thick pines, and as the road had turned into an island strip amidst swamp before, it now became an island strip amidst dense wood. Woodland creatures began to make their songs heard, and the fresh scent of the pined glade overbrimmed the air. The sky was clean and placid, lighted by the dust of stars and the aura of the moons; the road seemed to offer cheer to the weary travelers, and a dim opalescence afforded by slits in the canopy. Noise grew steadily around them: chirping and hooting, until there was a fuss among the foliage on either side of the road. It seemed the nocturnal animals of the forest had suddenly come to life. Insects buzzed and whistled, and Adacon shooed away a mosquito as it drove for nectar from his skin. On they marched in silence through the wilds.
Just as Adacon was about to ask Slowin if they would reach the city soon, and when they would next sleep, a strange noise broke the choral chirping of crickets. It did not come from the forest at their sides, but from directly ahead; Slowin and Flaer heard it at once also, and recognized it for the clonking of hooves and rolling of iron wheels against the gravel.
“Quick, past that glade,” whispered the golem. He ran off the road through a small clearing and into a patch of trees, trying to act furtively against the will of his enormous frame. Flaer and Adacon quickly followed, and soon they found themselves in a tall thicket hidden from the road. Quietly they watched through a tangled knot of branches as a horse drawn carriage clanked along the gravel path heading west. There were three horses, all jet black, tugging a carriage draped in maroon canvas; it had foreign gold lettering stitched down its side. The front of the carriage was illuminated by two small torches. Adacon realized that had Slowin not been bandaged and clothed so heavily, the torchlight would have reflected off Slowin’s metallic skin. Still, as it was, they hid unseen, and the carriage rattled on and away leaving them behind.
“Who were they?” Adacon whispered.
“Slave traders out of Saru Gnarl. I think it would be unwise to stay upon the road any longer, especially with the coming daylight. Carriages will increase as we get close to the city,” Slowin said, and Flaer agreed with a nod.
“Then what can we do?”
“Take to the forest—seek the golem entrance to the bay,” Slowin replied, and before Adacon could ask what the golem entrance to the bay was, Slowin had already hustled deeper into the woods. Flaer quickly followed, with Adacon bringing up the rear, and they cut away from the gravel road on a course southeast through the wilderness.
* * *
The forest chattered with life around the travelers, and strange insects thronged about, biting whatever open flesh was available. Slowin, of course, was not bothered by the bugs, and he led them quickly along as if he knew the way. They reached a wide clearing; set like a gem in the middle was a small pond mirroring the stars above. About the rim of the pond were crumbling stone structures that looked ancient, barely visible in the dim light—Adacon thought they could have once been statues of tree-nymphs. Something stirred in the water, and Slowin brought them to a halt.
“Where are we?” asked Adacon.
“This is the golem entrance to the bay,” Slowin replied.
“But I don’t see any entrance.”
“It’s underneath the water, through a tunnel pass,” said Slowin,
and then the enormous golem suddenly dove headfirst into the water. Adacon looked to Flaer who smiled, and then back to the water in apprehension.
“Come on,” Slowin splashed, resurfacing like a fountain and spraying mist at them. For a moment Adacon forgot where he was, fascinated that Slowin could stay afloat given his great metal body.
“But I have never swam before; I don’t know how to,” Adacon admitted with horror. Flaer pointed at Adacon’s breast plate and then jumped into the dark water.
“Going to have to leave the armor. Take your sword and bow,” said Slowin.
“I don’t know if I could even do it with the sword,” Adacon worried, taking off his armor.
“Leave it then,” Slowin said.
“Let me try first,” Adacon said as he ran with a start at the water, tripping in near the edge with a splash. Slowin and Flaer bobbed on the surface watching patiently for Adacon to come up. After several moments bubbles rose to the surface and Adacon burst up gasping for air. Flaer looked to Slowin who made no motion to interfere. Adacon continued to writhe in the water, going under once more only to reappear, swinging pitifully.
“Help, I’m drowning!” Adacon yelped, swallowing a mouthful of cold water. Slowin hesitated no longer and heaved Adacon from below, flinging the slave up on onto the dry earth once more, soaking and in shock.
“Lose the sword,” Slowin directed.
“But I’ll drown even without it,” Adacon coughed.
“No you won’t, the pass is short. You’ll only be under for a minute.”
“But I can’t, I’ll die…” Adacon whimpered. Flaer appeared irritated.
“Let’s go—back in. Leave the bow and arrows too; there will be more where we’re going anyhow,” Slowin ordered.
Adacon hesitantly dropped his quiver and bow, leaving them beside his sword near the edge of the water.
“Now in, see if you can try holding your breath under the water,” Slowin persuaded.
“I don’t know—”
“There’s no time to spare, unless you wish to be found by the slave traders of Saru Gnarl!” Slowin barked, growing angry as he floated with strange buoyancy in the pool, stars glimmering on his skin. Flaer ducked underneath the surface, disappearing from sight.
“I just can’t, you’re going to have to leave me here Slowin. I’ve failed this cause,” Adacon cried. As he stood defeated by the brink of the murky water a hand seized his leg from the depths. Adacon was pulled down into the water and held there by hands firmly clamped round his skull. He struggled in panic to free himself for nearly half a minute, until suddenly calm swept over him and he stopped twisting.
Above the surface of the water Slowin laughed heartily, and Flaer grinned thickly the width of his shaggy face. Finally, Flaer let go of Adacon’s head, and Adacon burst up to air once more, gasping the same as before. His eyes darted wildly as he regained his breath. After several minutes he felt composed again and looked at Flaer and Slowin. They were both smiling when Slowin broke the tension:
“That was at least as long as you’ll need to be under for. So, with thanks to Flaer for proving you can do it, shall we?”
Adacon did not respond to Slowin but looked down, his spirit bruised, his tension boiling. At first there swelled anger at Flaer and Slowin, but slowly it was replaced by a sense of acceptance; soon Adacon felt triumphant, and he laughed at himself for being so frightened.
“Come on lad,” Slowin winked, “We will need your orb of light.”
Adacon remembered the Orb and drew it from his pocket. Slowin and Flaer descended beneath the surface and Adacon quickly drew a breath and followed. The orb of light worked the same underwater as it did above, Adacon soon discovered. The water was lit green with the glow of the Orb, and Slowin led them through a large aperture in the rock wall of the pond basin. It was only a moment before they all came up for air on the opposite side of the pass, and Adacon quickly peered around at a winding edifice of underground rock. The ceiling was carved granite, stalactites hanging down and walls of smooth green slime. Adacon put his Orb back into his pocket but the cavern became death black, and he brought it back out immediately.
“Do you know the way Slowin?” Adacon asked.
“Surely, boy. Follow me so that I may prove fleet in caves as well as woods,” Slowin boasted, swimming forward. Flaer and Adacon fell in behind; Adacon clutched the Orb tightly to guide their passage. It seemed an impossible web of intertwining caves, and he was astounded to see Slowin navigate the maze, which forked every several yards in a new direction. After what seemed half an hour of twists and turns, they finally arrived in a corridor whose end had starlight, and in eager anticipation of getting out of the water Adacon paddled faster alongside the others.
“The exit!” Adacon cried.
“Yes. You see, golems know many tight and hidden passes, though our size belies that truth,” Slowin said.
They continued down the tunnel toward the light, and Adacon put his Orb away at Slowin’s command. Before them was a starlit expanse of bay, and deeper off under the bright moons towered many anchored ships, each a different color. Adacon gasped in awe at the sight of the port city. It seemed Slowin brought them through to the southern edge of Saru Gnarl’s bay; the city buildings loomed like spikes across the water, held up it seemed by an endless string of rose-colored torches. Their position at the back of the bay was cloaked from view; they shook the water from their garments under overhanging trees and tall reeds. A stony shore spread out on either side of them, several yards wide, separating the bay from the forest. Slowin led them forth to its bank and into a huddle behind bramble that grew high on the rocky shore.
“We must follow the shoreline, and take a boat ere the sun rises. We cannot afford to be seen in or around the city streets. We risk much as it is chancing the docks,” Slowin said, directing caution at Adacon. Adacon turned to glance at the boats in the distance again. They each had three girthy wooden poles harnessing massive sails, a rainbow of different colors and embroideries, softly visible beneath pearl moonlight; some were pure white, others mixed red and black, and others deep green. Some of the sails had stitchings of strange symbols, foreign to Adacon, and others had common pictures like trees and wolves. Some small boats appeared to be single-masted, and some seemed to have no sails at all. The docks stretched far from the bank into the ocean, and Adacon couldn’t make out where the dock intercepted the city buildings. The buildings could be seen among and between treetops; it was a dimly glowing city of mists and spires, the grandest and only Adacon had ever seen. Some of the ships were moving out to sea, others were entering into port, and some too, Adacon surveyed, were still yet alive with movement on deck. Even the city looked to be moving with life, winking with rose and calcite hues that carried high into the night sky. Voices were audible as a faint chorus of chatter that drifted across the low-rolling tide.
“The ocean is marvelous,” Adacon exclaimed, and Slowin struck him on the arm to silence him.
“Ow!” Adacon cried.
“Though the city is still on the other side of the bay, know that voices carry fast and far over these waters,” said Slowin, and then with great care they picked a trail along the pebble-rich banks of the bay. The course of the bank wrapped in a circular fashion northeast, eventually jutting out to conceal the majority of Saru Gnarl in the distance. Between the trees they caught traces of walking lights, bustling workers coming from the city to the docks.
“Does this city ever sleep?” Adacon whispered as he trailed Slowin.
“No, the port keeps business though all hours of the day and night. Grelion has new slaves shipped in from the eastern countries across the sea—each one allowing him to harvest the land better and build new farms,” Slowin replied. As the group crept forward the stone shore turned to sand, and after several minutes its width had doubled. The tree line receded and a bog-meadow of hard reeds took its place. The path became less concealed until almost all cover save the darkness of night forsook them.
It was then that Slowin deemed a nearby jetty rock suitable to huddle behind, and there he began to reveal his designs to take a ship:
“We are very close now. After we come to the dock trail there will be no turning back,” Slowin warned.
“What do you want me to do?” said Adacon.
“There, beside those three clippers,” Slowin pointed to a small vessel with two masts that was anchored next to three tall ships. “I know the markings on that schooner. It’s a pirate vessel, and Grelion’s forces are less likely to give chase if it is commandeered.”
“We’re going to steal a ship from pirates?”
“Yes, we will try anyway. I know the red and black flag it bears; it is the property of Smither Govlonks and his gang. They operate a far reaching ring, and their fleet is ever scattered. I think if we could take the ship without event we would be safe upon reaching the point.” Slowin said, and he looked to Flaer for approval of his idea—Flaer nodded as one convinced.
“With the greatest swordsman in Darkin it shouldn’t be that hard, right?”Adacon poked. Flaer smirked.
“Follow me up the path to the first dock. There will be guards and merchants about, but being past the main city gates already, we should be absolved of suspicion.”
“But you are an enormous silver golem—how will you not draw suspicion?”
“I have thought of it, and it helps that many different races of people come through the Saru Gnarl port. Nonetheless, I am of unique magnificence to look upon, and so—” Slowin chuckled, “I have decided that should anything occur it is best to pretend as if I am a captive, a prize of Grelion’s being offered to the eastern countries in return for their slaves.”
“And how are we to do that?”
“Grip my arms, both of you, from each side; and Flaer, keep the Brigun Autilus drawn, unlit.” Flaer nodded.
“But Slowin, you and I have no weapons. What if the plan goes wrong, you didn’t say what to do—” Adacon said.
Darkin: A Journey East Page 13
