Darkin: A Journey East

by Joseph A. Turkot

  “At first light, new friend,” Terion responded.

  “Then you won’t mind if I go off to spend some time with my old friends,” Slowin said. Swiftly the silver golem stomped out of the chamber before Terion could answer, and Adacon and Remtall quickly followed after him.

  “Pleased to have met you, King Terion,” Adacon called back. Remtall paid no such courtesy, and the three left of their own accord, out through the king’s corridor and into the main hall. Ulpo stood with Gaiberth and Iirevale, respectfully waiting for instruction from the king, who stood up from his throne. Merol waited patiently along with the others for Terion’s orders.

  “Gaiberth, tomorrow we march to perhaps our doom, but I am heartened to have your valiant company with us,” Terion exclaimed. “Go, make use of my kingdom, take whatever you need so that your troop is ready for the journey to Dinbell, and the battle that is to come.”

  “Great thanks, good lord,” Gaiberth said, and together with Iirevale he bowed. A dwarf guard came to escort them from the chamber. Once all the visitors were gone, Merol looked to the king, and after a brief moment of silence he spoke.

  “Forgive me great Terion—but have you gone to madness? The scripture describes him perfectly, he is the key!” Merol pleaded.

  “It would seem so, conjurer, but trust in your king is all that I ask from you in our hour of darkness,” Terion answered.

  “Certainly I trust you, lord, but also in the Prophecy I trust,” Merol cracked.

  “Me too, Merol, me too, but the situation is such that a greater priority is pressing us, and that is the invasion of our country,” Terion reflected.

  “Some would say both matters equally concern the safety of our people, master,” sulked Merol, but the king did not respond, and Merol limped out of the chamber.

  X: THE DINBELL WALL

  Slowin, Adacon, and Remtall sat together at a slate table in a dimly lit tavern that was carved from the rock wall of the main hall. In the tavern were only two other patrons, and a lone dwarven bar tender who stood nearby cleaning mugs. Slowin had chosen a table as far as possible from the other customers, both because it was the only table big enough to seat Slowin, and because the other patrons would not overhear their conversation.

  “Alright then Slowin—out with it,” Remtall said between gulps of dwarven ale. Adacon had decided not to drink—wishing to keep his wits sharp—as the coming day brought with it a great march, and possibly battle with the Feral Brood. After two painful hugs, Slowin began to tell his tale, and how he had come to survive the Kalm Ocean shipwreck:

  “At the very moment when you and Adacon were thrown from the ship, it appeared as if time had frozen for Flaer, Erguile and me,” Slowin told. “I can’t say how it happened, but the entire ship was enveloped in a kind of bubble—just as it was cracking apart—but not before you two were both thrown from the rail. The next thing I knew, the ship was whole again, floating on calm waters.”

  “Impossible!” Adacon cried.

  “Not even Weakhoof was harmed. We talked for a long time afterward, whether we’d hallucinated the lightning and ice—only did your missing bodies tell us it was no trick of the mind,” Slowin went on. “Next thing we knew, we had anchored at a beach, set underneath massive cliffs, and we had no idea where in Enoa we were. A jungle was to our south, massive cliffs to our north, and a small trail that curled into a meadow formed between. We didn’t know that you two had survived. In fact, we mourned your deaths…”

  “It must have been Krem! How else could that bubble have happened?” Adacon said.

  “I wouldn’t doubt that…so we set forth on the trail, leaving everything behind but our weapons and some food. And then it happened,” Slowin said with a deep tremor of dread in his voice.

  “What happened?” Remtall asked, as eager as Adacon to hear more.

  “Trolls—Feral trolls—they sprang on us, completely surprised us. We had no idea that Vesleathren was already at work mutating them, let alone on the opposite side of the ocean! There was a whole legion of them, and we just walked right into their path. Some were riding enormous centipedes coated in gold armor—” Slowin said. Adacon cut him off:

  “Warpedes—we fought one in the jungle!” Adacon cried. Everyone in the tavern heard Adacon and looked over at the strange congregation. Slowin shot them a cold stare, and they returned to their own business.

  “Tell it later Adacon, let him finish,” Remtall chided.

  “So being caught by surprise, we were scattered. Once we were separated, there was nothing to do but run. There were simply too many of them—I saw Erguile galloping away toward the cliffs, and I saw Flaer head straight into the meadow, slaying all that were in his path. I stood my ground as long as I could, but I was swarmed. I was forced to flee, and I was able to hide high atop a tree at the edge of the jungle. After the troop of Feral Trolls passed, unable to find me, they marched into the forest. I came down and took to the meadow, searching far and wide for Flaer or Erguile. I found no one, and so I ran south and found the Enoan road—and that was when that dreadful dwarven wizard cast his spell upon me,” Slowin groaned.

  “Merol, from the King’s chamber?” Adacon asked.

  “Indeed, that odd little man—his power is much greater than you’d guess by looking at him,” Slowin said, disgust in his voice.

  Enthralled by the story, Adacon wasted no time in telling his side of the separation, explaining in vivid detail how Remtall and he were saved by the mysterious phantoms, how they had come to Carbal Run by way of the condors, and how the jungle had been attacked with giant fireballs. After everything that had happened was told to Slowin, the three decided that Krem must have been at work that day upon the Kalm, saving them from certain doom.

  “Do you think Erguile is alright?” Adacon asked, thinking for a moment of his missing friend.

  “I can’t be sure, Adacon, but if any horse is underestimated, it is Weakhoof. He was riding fast north, last I saw him,” Slowin answered.

  “I hope he found some safe haven there. North is the direction of the Dinbell Wall, and the war front, the king said. Strangely, I am not worried about Flaer much, if at all,” Adacon said.

  “That is not strange, for Flaer is no ordinary swordsman, and teamed with the Brigun Autilus, I wouldn’t be surprised to know that the Feral Army has retreated outright at the sight of him,” Slowin chuckled.

  “Erguile will be fine, Adacon. I raised Weakhoof, and there is a not a braver horse in Rislind. If any creature of Darkin can carry Erguile to safety, it’s old Weakhoof,” Remtall comforted, and Adacon once more felt at ease in the company of his friends.

  They talked late into the night, against their better judgment, as they knew the morning would come fast, and a long march would require good sleep. Adacon told Slowin about his love for Calan, though Slowin didn’t quite seem to understand the same way Remtall did. Finally, the three of them had relayed every detail of their journeys since splitting up, and feeling very tired, they were all instructed by the bartender to the location of their beds. They walked down the hall together, and a dwarf guard pointed them in the direction of a house where the elven troop was staying. It was a bare rock cavern, lined with matted fur beds on cutout ledges that were stacked, one above the other. Slowin decided to sleep on the floor near the entrance, as the beds were too small for him. Remtall waddled to the first open bed and fell into it, falling fast asleep. Adacon continued down the rocky cavern, looking at all the sleeping elves, passing one that he thought was Iirevale.

  “Iirevale,” Adacon whispered to the sleeping elf. “Iirevale?” he whispered louder.

  “Who’s there!” Iirevale sparked from out of a dream, sitting upright and gripping his sword, which lay at his side.

  “It’s only me, Adacon.”

  “Ah, what is it? I’m sleeping….”

  “Sorry, where’s Calan?”

  “I don’t know—now get to bed…” Iirevale grunted, and he rolled over again and turned back to slee
p. Just then a noise echoed from behind Adacon. It was Calan.

  “Over here,” she whispered. Adacon promptly hopped up to her ledge.

  “I can’t sleep,” she whispered.

  “It’s alright, you don’t have to worry now that we have Slowin with us,” Adacon reassured her quietly.

  “I saw him walk past with you—how strange he is. He doesn’t look like any golem I’ve ever seen.”

  “He isn’t. He’s as strong as fifty men, and we don’t need to worry as long as he’s here,” Adacon said, and he stroked her hair. She quieted, and together the two of them fell asleep on the cramped ledge.

  * * *

  It felt like but a minute before Adacon was awoken by the sound of a blaring horn, and soon the whole cave of beds was stirring, as elves hopped down from every corner of the rock wall. Gaiberth assembled his elves in the entrance to the main hall, and Falen sat away from the others and conversed with Slowin.

  “It seems the stranger the folk, the better they get along, eh?” Remtall poked Adacon and pointed in the direction of Falen and Slowin. Adacon looked up from his preparations with an angry look on his face.

  “No need to stab me,” Adacon said in response to the gnome who had jabbed his ribs to get his attention.

  “Sorry, I sometimes forget the weak flesh of men,” replied the captain unremorsefully.

  “They are the strangest looking ones here, might as well let them become good friends,” Adacon returned in good humor, and Calan approached from behind.

  “Are you two ready for a march?” she said, sounding oddly upbeat for such a perilous journey.

  “When is a gnome not ready for great deeds, my beautiful druid of the forest?” Remtall flirted.

  “Hah! I’m no druid, little gnome. Nonetheless, be glad I am with you, as my legs outpace any man or gnome among us,” she boasted. They equipped their gear, and as they waited on King Terion’s orders to depart, they walked over to Falen and Slowin.

  “Ahah!” laughed Slowin.

  “What’s so funny, metal beast?” piped Remtall, interrupting Falen and Slowin’s conversation.

  “I was just telling Slowin the tale of how you so valiantly took on a Gazaran…” Falen said in his deep timbre. Slowin began to laugh hysterically once more. Remtall stomped his foot and drew his flask, filled now with dwarven rock liquor.

  “I’ll have you know, if it hadn’t been for my heroics, this whole company of Gaiberth’s would be no more,” Remtall boasted, drinking merrily.

  “Still with your usual breakfast I see…” Slowin remarked, noting Remtall’s habit of drinking spirits first thing in the morning.

  “Never mind a gnome’s breakfast,” Remtall said, dismissing Slowin’s concern.

  “Speaking of breakfast,” Adacon said, smelling something delightful waft by his nose. He turned to see a group of elves feasting from what looked to be piping cauldrons of stew, each being rolled around by several dwarven guards. Adacon and Calan rushed over to eat, and Remtall stayed with Falen and Slowin.

  “Well then, Falen, what do you make of this journey to the wall?” Remtall asked.

  “From what I have heard, Vesleathren mounts his greatest force in the east country of Arkenshyr. It is there that he himself is commanding the Feral Brood. Rumor is that the dark mage, Aulterion, has been tasked with commanding the Feral army that marches south in Enoa. I have heard from the spies of the dragon kin that his evil stays the ground behind the Dinbell Wall, and while he assaults the jungles from afar with fireballs, he dually works to topple the Dinbell all the while,” Falen told.

  “Pah! Destroy the wall? But I saw the wall from the road, it was at least as tall as these mountains that house us now,” Remtall railed in disbelief.

  “Which is why our march is all the more treacherous and urgent—but you are from Rislind, correct?” Falen asked.

  “Yes…” Remtall answered.

  “Then surely you recall what Aulterion did to end the Five Country War—he conjured the very blast that formed…” Falen began but was cut off.

  “I fought in that war, little dragon! Don’t question my memories.”

  “Firsthand, then, you have seen the destructive power Aulterion can muster through black magic. Destroying the Dinbell Wall doesn’t seem impossible for him after all, does it?” There was a silence after Falen’s words, for each of them knew that the Dinbell Wall was the only thing preventing the Feral Brood from pushing directly south on the Enoan road and sacking the whole of Enoa.

  “No time to be filled with fear, come and have some stew,” Slowin changed the subject. Remtall and Falen followed the silver golem toward the cauldrons.

  “Ah, good Slowin, you still have our best interest at heart,” Remtall said with a wink. Soon they were eating alongside the rest of the group.

  Once all of the elves had their fill, as well as their assorted company (a gnome, a man, a drake, and a silver golem), King Terion approached, coming down the great dwarf hall, leading a large company of armored dwarves. The army of dwarves was ten times greater than Gaiberth’s force, and the elves happily welcomed the glistening strength of dwarf-built armor and axes. King Terion stood together with Gaiberth at the head of the unified legion, and Gaiberth deferred to King Terion, and Terion commanded them with orders:

  “Good dwarves of Oreine, and mighty warriors of Carbal, you are assembled now to defend your homes against the invading Feral Army, held at bay by the Wall of Dinbell, defended by what’s left of the Erol Drunne militia. It is frightening how fast Vesleathren’s evil has come upon our fair land, and ravished its way south, already taking one of the greatest free cities of the world, Enoa—but we go now to turn the tide, and for the second and final time in Darkin’s history, we shall thwart Vesleathren’s evil! Good citizens of Enoa, this time it is no foreign cause that we go to aid, far across the mighty Kalm—it is our own country that has been invaded—it is our children and families that we go to defend. What gives rise to Vesleathren’s villainy none can guess—I can only do my part to stand against it, and so you can now do yours,” Terion commanded, rallying his forces, and the great army of dwarves and elves roared with the ferocity of an angry mob. “We march north, upon the open road, for all his spies to see—to Dinbell!”

  “To Dinbell!” the army echoed Terion, and suddenly the great mass of warriors moved, following Terion and Gaiberth who led them out. Adacon fell in line beside his companions, walking next to Calan. Once again the bright sun of Darkin shone on him, as the great troop left the safety of the Blue-Grey Mountains, weaved its way out of Oreine and onto the Great Plain, heading toward the Enoan Road. Soon they were on the hot granite again, in a tight formation heading north, in sight of the looming Dinbell Wall, several days’ march away.

  “So the dwarves alone built Dinbell?” Adacon asked Calan as they marched under the silver-blue sky of cloudless sunshine.

  “The dwarves will tell you that they did, but I can assure you it was a great effort of many peoples, including the elves. It is true the dwarves are most skilled at constructing monuments of stone, but it would have been an impossible effort if the great and various races of Enoa hadn’t come together and helped one another,” she answered.

  “How old is it?” Adacon asked.

  “The Dinbell has only stood since the Five Country War, and it was built in defense of the Feral Army in that time. Thankfully, it had never been needed, as Vesleathren only assaulted Arkenshyr and the eastern lands, but at the time no one was certain if his troll army would reach our northern shores,” she explained.

  “Amazing—the world is so rich with stories and places, and I had never before seen more than a single farm’s worth of it. I see how beautiful everything is, and I am filled more than ever with a passion to fight, and defend what I can now call my home,” Adacon said.

  “And where would you call home?” Calan asked.

  “Darkin, of course…” Adacon said.

  “What I meant was, once this is all over, where w
ill you go home to?” she prodded. Adacon looked around himself and seemed to be lost in thought at her question. He looked to his left and saw the dark green edge of the Carbal jungle, the beginnings of the Teeth Cliffs; he looked to his right, and saw the sunlit Blue-Grey Mountains, home of the curious Oreinen. He looked behind, and between rows of marching elves he saw the Great Plain stretch on and on until the mountains merged with the forest. Then he turned to look straight ahead, a granite strip running to the end of the Great Plain, where it met the towering stone-built Wall of Dinbell.

  “I don’t know…” Adacon finally admitted.

  “I also don’t know,” she said. “My home is no more, my loved ones...”

  “I am sorry for,” Adacon began, but she interrupted him.

  “It’s alright, I’ve mourned for those Aulterion destroyed, but I know Gaigas keeps them yet, in her great spirit, and that I shall meet them again someday,” she said, concealing her weeping.

  “Maybe, if it’s not against elven law or custom, we could find a new home together, and live together in peace and happiness,” Adacon said. Calan smiled, wiping tears from her face.

  “That would be my happiest ending to this, Adacon,” she cried, and threw herself under his arm.

  “Then you must promise me to stay well away from combat,” Adacon said.

  “You know I cannot do that,” she answered, and Adacon understood, and he said no more—only did he hold her for a while longer as they marched north.

  Two days of uneventful marching passed by, and when the times had come to do so, Terion called for the army to stop, eat, and camp for the night upon the open road. He constantly appointed sentries to protect from any possibility of a surprise attack, and the elves were used to scout farthest ahead, greatly outpacing the sturdier dwarves. Adacon noticed that Falen and Slowin had become fast friends, and Remtall had clung to them, regaling them with boastful stories whenever he found an opportunity to cut into their conversations. Even Ulpo had joined their little unit, and Remtall found that Ulpo shared his love of tobacco and liquor, and they began to get along elegantly—especially since having Ulpo around doubled Remtall’s store of liquor. Adacon kept mostly with Calan throughout the days of marching, but occasionally he would fall back to talk with Slowin, asking questions whenever he had the chance. Mainly they had talked about the history of Darkin, as most of it was new to Adacon, and when they weren’t discussing geography or history, talk would turn to how to properly fight the Feral trolls. Falen had been a veteran of the Five Country War, as had Remtall, so they each shared with Adacon what wisdom they had on how to fight the Feral Brood, knowing it would be useful when the time arrived.