Darkin A Journey East - By Joseph A. Turkot Page 0,2
by heart, with or without sunlight. He did not know the wilds beyond; he hadn’t set foot outside the gates since before his manhood. Sentry towers rose from two corners on the farm, one to the northeast, and one southwest. Each was built next to an exit gate that led away and across the countryside by way of small dirt roads.
His hut was located nearest to the northeast tower, and from his door he began a slow pace north along the dirt path that ran the length of the farm. The sky was blackened grey, without stars, and the night wind carried a pungent odor of burnt flesh—the ever-present stench of the farm. Time had dulled his repulsion to the rotten air. Slave lore told of large incinerators hidden inside the restricted building, wherein was housed some dark form of energy whose fuel required the flesh of men. He never dared enter the building, but he often watched curls of thundercloud-grey smoke roll from its chimney. The guards escorted slaves and captives into the building at odd times, young and old alike; none left.
The path continued straight, northerly along the edge of the crops. On either side, as he walked through the dead quiet, rose high cornstalks, too dense to see through. In the distance, the northeast sentry tower jutted above the crop line, a white silhouette cutting through the deep grey. A solitary light flickered near the top; an archer stood watch by an ever-lit torch.
He walked slower at the sight. A thought, of origin not his own, came into his mind: a guard patrols the edge of the cornfield, just where your path runs east toward the tower. No noise broke the silence save for the sound of his own footfalls. He trod as soft as he could; no fear forsook him at the warning, as fear ought to for a slave outside past curfew. A bold, immeasurable courage possessed his will, driving him forth, pushing him in a direction cloudy and perilous. His consciousness was no longer that of a normal man—he felt as if a beast of wilds unknown.
As a young man, he had played with his hoary sword, and by some measures had become a novice—but years had passed since last he held the cold steel: still, somehow, he felt as if his arms would know the motions should a strike be necessary. He glanced back in the direction of his hut, and saw the dull light of dying fire glow against the panes. Strange thoughts engorged his mind; his awareness sped from thought to thought, and, strangely, he felt a great calm sweep into his spirit. Time stopped for an eternity, and questions formed from a void: what was the start of all this? When, in the eternal flow of time, did the cogs of fate start to turn? And at what point did they turn ill the fate of so many men? Adacon turned from the hut and looked northeast; the calm in his spirit boiled away, and the passion of Remtall set him ablaze.
He came to the edge of the corn. A sentry stood against a small tree, puffing on a slender black pipe; tufts of smoke filtered into the night air. The sentry did not look roused, or in an aware state at all for that matter; rarely did the sentries have anything to do at night except stand about and look at shooting stars. Adacon froze for a moment and unsheathed his blade. In his right hand he gripped the handle tightly and walked eastward.
Instantly, he ducked to the ground, lying flat against the cold earth. His nose pressed into the soil and he breathed deeply, replacing for a moment the smell of burnt flesh with that of tended soil. He rolled onto his back and looked up at the night sky, and in the direction of the sentry, let out a soft yelping noise.
As quickly as the sound had left his mouth, he rolled sideward into the last thicket of corn, concealing himself. Hard shoots grazed his flesh, releasing his blood along their stalks. The guard withdrew his pipe at the sound of the yelp and spun around quickly to face the direction of the noise. Through a gap in the undergrowth, Adacon saw a dumbfounded expression wrap round the guard’s face as he looked for a source, baffled. The tower archer had been too far to hear the yelp. The man extinguished his pipe and looked up and