Darkin A Journey East - By Joseph A. Turkot Page 0,18
different direction, disappearing behind a low dune.
“Perhaps we’ll find our culprit yet!” Erguile said, feigning enthusiasm for a hunt in the scorching heat.
“Well, at least let’s have a better look,” Adacon said, and they walked over to the foreign tracks. The sand was soft enough to prevent any precise imprint, nothing detailed enough that the markings could be discerned as human or otherwise. They were, however, roughly the size of the marks a human might leave. The trail could definitely be followed, they both knew, but the path seemed to go on interminably into the northwestern horizon. Adacon was almost certain they had passed Krem’s abode some way back, and he contemplated the futility of making an attempt at tracking the unknown thief.
“I doubt the sword would ever be worth our trouble. I don’t know what lies farther north, save maybe danger. I think we would do best to retrace my original tracks.”
“I suppose you’re right. Let’s do that then, though I don’t think this incident will easily pass out of my mind,” Erguile replied.
“Nor mine,” Adacon returned. “I hope we find shelter from this damned sun soon though, and that Krem will have some answers for us.”
“Let’s hope we can find something at all in this godforsaken place…” Erguile said. Adacon and he started toward their trail leading back west. They followed it without trouble for a short while, and sure enough Adacon saw a new trail diverge in the distance.
“There, up ahead on the right. Do you see it?” Adacon said cheerfully. Erguile scanned the dunes.
“Yes, are you sure it is your path from before?”
“Most sure—I turned right some to reach the place, I remember. I’d suspected that we’d passed it last night, but there was no way to tell in the dark.”
Sweating heavily, they reached the path Adacon had created the previous afternoon. They followed the old trail toward a dune that Erguile soon realized was more than just a pile of hot sand; a tiny green door came into view on its side, and he grew anxious as Adacon’s tale was confirmed with his own eyes. The green door grew larger as they approached the hidden fortress, and Erguile could begin to make out little windows on the dune now, and before long the sign on the door was also visible.
“Krem’ll be expecting us,” Adacon said jovially. “He’s an energetic old man, by all respects. I rather expect him to have food ready for our arrival.” As they neared the door, Adacon began to describe the cool air, the glittering pond, and the filled dining room deep beneath the sand. Finally, they arrived at the door—Erguile read for himself the words on it:
‘Molto’s Keeping.
Do Not Enter,
Lest You Fancy
Spirited Winds
To Sear Your Soul.’
“Shall I knock?” asked Erguile.
“Yes.”
“Alright.” Erguile knocked hard on the door three times as he glanced into the covered windows anxiously.
“Last time it took him a good bit of time to open up, so be patient. Inside it’s quite huge; he’ll have to travel some to get to the front door if he’s down below.” It was only an instant, however, and suddenly a voice came from a secret hole in the green door.
“Still alive I see. And just as I expected. I take this to be a new addition to your company, laddy? I am glad to see it, though I had hoped you’d get more than one from the errand. A moment lads…” Krem said, speaking through the hole, and suddenly the hole closed up and the door swung open. Erguile was taken aback at the appearance of the small, purple-robed man; Krem seemed to perfectly resemble the evil wizard of his dream.
“Come in!”
“You are Krem, the lonesome hermit of the sand dungeon, I presume?” asked Erguile warily as they stepped inside the cool interior.
“Ah, ‘tis I you script, lad. It is not a description that I would choose, mind. I think I shall befriend you anyway. I suppose slaves are a nice breed, though damned ignorant most of them are,” Krem chuckled as he led them into his home, laughing.
“Damned ignorant? What does that mean, I wonder, coming from a small man who has secluded himself from the world inside a sand dune?” retorted Erguile. Already Adacon feared the tension growing between Krem and Erguile.
“Hush yourself and I shall let you have food. Does that strike your fancy, young lad?” asked Krem. Erguile did not protest at the offering of food, and Adacon felt relieved to see the tension die.