Darkin A Journey East - By Joseph A. Turkot Page 0,16

yawned deeply as he attempted to find comfort on the desert floor.

“You’ll need your rest more than you know, I think. I don’t know what tomorrow brings, but if what happened today is a sign of things to come, we’ll both need our strength. Sleep well, Erguile the Brave, and for awhile yet I’ll ward off the demons of the sand for you,” Adacon joked, providing a needed respite of humor.

Erguile sprawled on the ground, groaning several times before finding a half-comfortable sleeping position. The sand was hard and cold, and made for a harsh bed, but fatigue had its way and Erguile fell fast asleep. Adacon sat rigid like a hawk watching the surrounding dunes and the tranquil night sky, finally left alone with his thoughts.

* * *

Many things jumbled around in the throes of his imagination, and his thoughts changed as quickly as they came. He felt happy—and in disbelief – that he’d managed to escape the farm, only to return and find an ally in Erguile. It was Krem that most frequently popped into Adacon’s mind, and the odd little man started to seem unreal to him. Could Krem have been some imaginary figure his mind had conjured up from the heat of the sun? Perhaps the little man and his palace under the desert had been a mere dream…

Adacon returned his thoughts for a moment to the farm. He wondered if all the slaves had been captured and murdered, and if there were new sentries upon the towers yet. Most likely it was as Erguile guessed; the whole lot of them was swallowed up by the beasts of the Red Forest.

Looking at the ground around their camping spot, Adacon realized that although there weren’t footprints on the hard sand they camped on, they had to have left tracks coming from the farm; surely there would be some at the beginning of the desert where the sand was softer. The thought of guards pursuing their trail into the desert made Adacon shudder. It crossed his mind that in tomorrow’s sunlight they might be able to track his original footprints to find the way back to Krem’s hideaway. Was the little dungeon so secluded that it was by rare chance he’d even managed to find it once among the monotonous dunes? Adacon started questioning himself. He believed for a moment that guards would surely find their tracks, and it would only be a matter of time before they were hunted and killed. Then, from the black silence, Adacon heard a strange noise.

He glanced around warily, checking for any sign of movement or silhouette, but saw nothing. Keeping a watch was quite useless, he decided, as he strained to see the dune directly in front of him. Everything was black; even the moons had gone into hiding behind streaking clouds of charcoal grey. Adacon managed to stay alert, listening vigilantly for another hour, waiting for the noise to return. He tried to keep his mind focused on his task, but slowly he succumbed to his need for sleep. He decided to remove his sword and quiver to be a bit more comfortable.

Adacon slowly closed his eyes, feeling a rush of warmth come with the utter dark. He opened them; then closed them; then barely reopened them halfway. He slumped down until he lay flat, adjusting his arms to find any comfort possible. The thoughts in his head slowed to a trickle, and soon his mind became as silent as the dying desert wind. As he edged into unconsciousness a sharp cry tugged him wide awake.

It sounded like a horrible shriek—nothing he could fathom a source for. Though he’d never heard one, nor knew if they truly existed, Adacon thought the screech had sounded like a demon. Quickly he sat up and regained his bearing, grabbing his sword from the sand. The noise hadn’t been imagined, he knew, and he wondered if it was from the same creature as before. He hadn’t been alert enough to determine what direction the noise had come from; he knew by its intensity it had to be close. He stood up and gripped his sword tight, frantically scanning for anything visible in the blackness. No sound came, and he could see nothing amid the black dunes. Finally, after standing rigid for another half-hour, he reluctantly decided that the noise had been a harmless animal. It would be a much more fearful thing—he tried to convince himself—if the noise had seemed human. Without waking Erguile