Darkin A Journey East - By Joseph A. Turkot Page 0,102

bucked in madness at the oozing troll struggling to climb up on him. The troll gripped the horse’s neck tightly and kicked its side in an attempt to subdue it. Weakhoof whinnied loudly in pain. Adacon rushed up from behind. The troll seemed to sense Adacon’s coming, and turned to face him just in time to block the first strike. Adacon’s elven sword clanged and issued a blue spark, bouncing quickly off the troll blade. The Feral mutant withdrew a second blade and began swinging wildly with both hands. In a frenzied whirlwind attack, the deformed troll charged. Adacon waited to roll out of the way at the last second. As the troll came within striking distance, Adacon attempted his roll: the right edge of one of the Feral blades cut deeply upon his foot, thwarting his escape. Lying helpless on the ground, with only his right arm for defense, Adacon looked up to his doom. Two more trolls rushed up; together the three trolls surveyed Adacon on the ground. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the trolls made their strike, stabbing in unison. “Where is Slowin?” Adacon thought in his last moment. As if in reply to his question, three arrows whooshed by, striking each troll dead through the throat.

“Up! No time for a nap,” said Calan, her arm breaking the blue sky of his vision. Adacon smiled broadly as she pulled him to his feet. There was no time to celebrate; three more trolls came raging forward. The great battle had become a fight of dwarves and elves against trolls. Adacon didn’t see Slowin, Remtall or Erguile; they had been driven apart by the fierce combat. He struggled to find balance on his feet, barely able to walk with his gashed leg—the battle became foggy, a dreamlike state, and he grew faint. Despite his dizziness, he fought next to Calan, side by side with the dwarves, for what seemed like hours more.

“The wall is almost gone,” said Calan. Adacon looked back to the Wall of Dinbell to see in amazement that Aulterion had almost completely wrecked the great structure, as enormous chunk after chunk was still tumbling off, spilling onto the south side of the Great Plain. The Feral trolls had started trampling one another to reach the lowest of the newly cleaved ledges of the Dinbell. Soon there were piles of dead trolls forming hills upon which the next row climbed, higher toward the top of the wall.

“Flaer is almost to him,” Adacon said, fixing his gaze back upon the light of the Brigun Autilus, barely visible amidst the mass of swarming Ferals. A glint of silver caught his attention—Slowin had appeared again, farther downhill, and Adacon was relieved to see Erguile and Remtall by him, alive and fighting. Just then, King Terion ran past, charging headlong into battle, followed by Iirevale. Falen appeared next; he stopped next to Adacon and Calan and commanded them once more to ride atop him.

“It’s not time to die yet young slave—your friend requires your help,” Falen said. “There…” he pointed a claw toward the glowing Brigun Autilus.

“You want to fly down to Flaer?” Adacon said, only half-conscious. “I stand no chance out there, how could I help?”

“I am uncertain, but look—there,” Falen instructed, and Adacon sent his gaze out over the mass of Feral army once more. Deep in the distance he saw a beam of light shining, very different from Aulterion’s. Unsure if it was a hallucination, the new beam suddenly drew closer, pointed at Adacon. As quickly as he had realized the light was focused on him, it redirected itself down to the plain where Flaer struggled, almost in reach of Aulterion.

“You see, he wants you to go there,” Falen said.

“Who?” Adacon asked dizzily, searching for a source to the new light. It radiated from a great height in the sky, directly above Flaer, atop what appeared to be a circling bird.

“Yarnhoot!” shouted Adacon. He strained to see what he thought was a brief reflection of purple off the rider. “Krem!”

“Get on, both of you—now,” Falen commanded. This time Adacon idled no longer; he and Calan hopped on Falen’s back, gripping hard to a tiny harness. Falen spread his wings to full span and started to beat them hard just as a fresh horde of trolls reached the top of the hill. Falen roared at them, opened his mouth: from his jaw rained down a stream of glowing red flame as he propelled his riders high into the