Darkin A Journey East - By Joseph A. Turkot Page 0,10
know much anything about the world… I was raised a slave on a farm, just a few miles west of here. I know so little, except that I am a murderer now, and without a reason to live, except maybe to find freedom.”
“Ah Krem, he’s a good dreamer…” the old man muttered under his breath. “You cannot learn to be free unless you can learn to love, and you cannot begin to love, young lad, until you have learned to love yourself,” said the old man, mystifying Adacon with the word Krem.
“Krem? I do not quite follow you…” responded Adacon.
“Oh, yes, of course—I am Krem, and it is the name I have known to be mine for as long as I can recall,” Krem responded, chuckling to himself.
“And what is your stance on the oppression? Do you not feel the pain it has caused us all? I’m no longer a slave to the lords, and I don’t care if they seek to kill me or not… I only hope to find some free place to go, and live if I can in peace.”
“Ah, you have gone into worries—too many, I think, for now. What is your name, young lad?” asked Krem.
“My name is Adacon.”
“Good Adacon, listen to me yet. A war has been spawned in you, I think. Never have I seen a slave so free from fear. And that quality in you I cherish. But this talk of oppression, what brings that?” spoke Krem.
“What? You don’t know of the bondage, so close to your home? The controlling lords that use us as tools, and entitle us to no freedom? That is the oppression I have known for all my life,” Adacon said with fury.
“If you have been treated poorly in the past, dear Adacon, I am deeply sorry for that. But it is now that a war seems to have risen in you, and we must focus upon the present. The lords, did you say? Hah, I marvel at that name you give him. Almost seems you think there to be more than one.”
“I’ve always heard that there are a great many lords—the minority who rule the rest of the world.”
“Partly you are correct young lad, as our country is controlled by a small group of people. But alas, there are no lords, as you propose. There is a Lord, whose name goes widely unknown in these times. It is Grelion. All the others whom you think to be the lords—they all work for Grelion.”
“I can’t believe one man could be responsible for all of this, and that one man could have that much power? I cannot fathom it. I was always told there were many lords, hundreds…”
“Hmmm… The lore in this age has run bleached, as I can tell from your beliefs. Grelion is the king of this country, along with everything save that which lies east of the great Kalm Ocean. Of course, under his absolute leadership are many lesser servants, but alas, he is the only true Lord.”
“Where does he call his home? I will kill him, I swear, I shall run right into his home and cut his throat! To think, that there is but one person to blame for all the slavery and death—we must have his head.”
“Ah, but you have so much to learn still, boy. Grelion is nowhere near this country. Like a true coward, he hides away from the land he rules over, and his exact location I’m not sure you could discover even if you had all the flying spies of Darkin. But his stench grows closer every day—I can sense his dementia ascending over our skies every night, his greed devouring our happiness. But enough talk of the sorrowful things we cannot yet change; we ought to have a proper meal first. Afterwards, we can discuss the fate of the world,” Krem said, quieting as he stood from his chair near the cave wall. He walked away to the far right corner of the cave, toward a room that was cut from the rock—hopefully the dining area, Adacon thought. “Come along,” the old hermit called back.
“I’m sorry, but I seem to be of a clouded mind right now, you are the first friendly presence I have known in a long time,” Adacon said, trotting up to reach Krem.
“And not the last, let’s pray. Now have a seat, and a bit of patience, young lad, it is time to be remedied of your hunger.”