Darkin A Journey East - By Joseph A. Turkot Page 0,17

from his slumber, Adacon found himself lying down again and falling fast asleep with his sword on his chest, still gripped firmly by his right hand. A dreamless slumber overtook him.

* * *

Adacon awoke first and sat up to find he was sweating. The desert had grown miserably hot already. The sun had risen high overhead; it appeared they had slept long into the morning. He arose to stretch his limber form and rouse his senses for the day. The desert stretched all around him. He yawned deep and turned to wake Erguile, nudging him softly.

“Ack, I had the most horrible dream,” Erguile said, startled as if from another dimension. “It felt real… I daresay I may have been in some other world. You and I had found Krem’s house finally. We had begun to make conversation with the little thing when it soon became clear that he was a great evil wizard. He attacked us with jets of flames and fireballs. It was terrible… I remember my sword being melted from within my grasp. I sorrow to say he managed to catch you ablaze, and I would have been next I think, had you not woken me.” Erguile clumsily rubbed his head and rolled over to sit upright. Adacon didn’t respond to the fearful dream.

“It’s hot today. I wouldn’t have guessed in my little knowledge of desert countries that they were this hot. I knew they were said to…” Erguile stopped talking mid-sentence. Adacon had been facing the eastern sky—his back to Erguile as he listened—until the abrupt pause. Adacon turned around to see what the matter was; Erguile was staring at the ground beside them, and Adacon realized what was wrong. Erguile had gone to bed with two swords, the ones he had snatched from the farm; he had set them by his side, one next to the other—now there was one. Adacon quickly checked to make sure all his own gear was intact, having forgotten about the weapons until present. All of Adacon’s supplies were still there, exactly where they had been laid out the night before. They stared in puzzlement.

“How in Darkin… last night you never woke me for watch; did you fall asleep?” asked Erguile.

“I’m sorry I did, but there didn’t appear to be any danger. I kept a watch for most of the night, and I didn’t want to wake you, thinking you’d need the rest.”

“This makes no sense at all then. How could my sword be gone? I did go to sleep last night with two, didn’t I?” asked Erguile, growing increasingly baffled.

“I’m most certain you did, I remember you carrying them the whole walk. But you’re right… this is very strange. What on Darkin do you suppose would come upon us in the night and take for itself a single sword, leaving no other trace behind…” Adacon said, racking his brain. He decided not to mention the noises until Erguile calmed some. It dawned on Adacon that if anything had come in the night there would be some form of tracks in the soft sand surrounding their camp. They surveyed the area thoroughly but found no tracks but their own; they decided to give up the hunt and pick up their belongings. Erguile fastened his breastplate to his chest, which he had taken off for sleep—Adacon grimaced at the thought of wearing armor in the desert heat, and left his behind. They sat in silence eating a breakfast of bread and water before setting out.

“This truly confuses me, if not frightens me. I don’t want to spend another night in this forsaken desert, no...I think we should be quick on our way to this Krem’s dune—be he an evil wizard or not,” Erguile said. He stood and drew forth his sword.

“Whatever stole your sword, do you think it could really have concealed its tracks in the sand here, to no error?” Adacon asked.

“I reckon it may have left some trace, lest it was a winged creature, or one with the powers to walk in the clouds,” Erguile half joked. They set about another attempt, searching farther from the camp than they had first checked, looking again for any marks upon the sand.

“There!” Adacon cried. He pointed toward the tracks they themselves had left, still clearly visible as a scattered and broken line of ruffled sand winding into the desert. But it was not those tracks he had pointed at—there was another trail breaking away from theirs. The tracks led off in a