Darkin A Journey East - By Joseph A. Turkot Page 0,31

have killed with it after he stole it.”

“But then why not kill us as we slept?”

“Who knows his intentions, but on account of your story he sounds like a powerful enemy of ours—it is strange he didn’t slay us though.”

“Last night, this Zesm spoke of a master. Perhaps he was doing only as commanded.”

“Perhaps, but either way I will slay him on sight if he dares to cross our path again.”

“But even Krem seemed to fear him once he mentioned a name—I think it was Veh—Ves…” Adacon trailed off trying to remember the name.

“The old man feared him? That’s hard to believe, for I could sense no fear in that old man.”

“Whoever it was, Vessomething, it was after his mentioning that Krem spoke with fear in his voice. It seemed it was the master of Zesm’s.”

“I don’t like this business about phantoms, and I think we need to set forth toward the tower. We’ve waited longer than we should have already. Let Zesm try to murder us before the next day comes, and we’ll see which man is sent to his grave,” Erguile said confidently. Adacon didn’t like the idea of going on without Krem, especially considering the threats Zesm had made. Erguile was right though; hours had passed, and too long already they had been sitting idle, awaiting Krem’s return. So they silently gathered their supplies and began their march northeast towards the Ceptical Tower, now shining in the full light of day.

They paced on over the plains, enjoying a cool wind that was sweeping in from the east. The day passed lazily, as they marched uninterrupted for several hours.

“Aren’t you worried about his threat to kill us if we don’t return to the desert?” asked Adacon nervously as they marched.

“Hah! Let him come, and meet my steel fang,” responded Erguile, and he drew his sword and swung it through the air.

“You’re quite fearless, and a comfort for it,” smiled Adacon. “After all, if we return south I suppose our danger remains the same. Either way Grelion will want us dead, and north or south we know not the way. At least we may try for this swordsman in the tower.”

“And maybe others more than him, as Krem foretold,” said Erguile. “Won’t be long before we have a proper band of fighters I think.” With a slight boost in their morale the two sped across the plain at a hastened pace. The sun started to fall westward in the sky, and there remained a cool breeze as they trudged closer to the tower. It wasn’t until the sun was almost halfway down in the sky that they decided to stop for a meal. The tower was very close, only several hundred yards away: it was at least ten times as tall as the towers on the farm, Adacon reckoned, and it was made of plain, unremarkable grey stones. A dark and massive wooden door could be made out at the base of the stone tower, and a shoddy gravel road ran away from it. The slaves chose a shady area behind a tree-laden hill for their resting place, partly so they wouldn’t be spied upon from atop the tower’s balcony, and partly so they could start making an early dinner.

Dusk began to creep upon them as they ate. Soon the meal was finished, seemingly as quick as it began, and Erguile was complaining that had Krem still been with them they would have been able to smoke their pipes; with no Krem magic to conceal the smoke trail in the sky, they were forced to go without.

“Alright, I suppose we had better do as Krem meant for us to, despite that he’s a deserting coward,” said Erguile. They went over their original design—to take the tower by way of a secret passage at its rear; after getting inside, they were to go up the staircase leading to its highest room, near the upper balcony: the cell of Flaer Ironhand. At the balcony, as Krem had told, they would find Bulkog—troll guard of Ceptical—carrying a circlet of keys, one of which would open Flaer’s cell. Krem had spoken to them briefly of Bulkog’s ferocity, and of his weakness for hallucinogenic pipe-weeds and liquors that came through by way of farm trade. If they were to have some luck, Bulkog the Vandal would be in a stupor and drunk.

“On after me, Addy,” Erguile ordered. They crept, heading out into the open darkness, leaving their concealment beneath trees. They followed the gravel