Darkin A Journey East - By Joseph A. Turkot Page 0,32
road that lay in the front of the tower—it loomed up in the night sky before them and its great balcony appeared as a crown from which a spire needled out toward the stars to a black point. To their great relief there didn’t appear to be any guards above—no one was watching. The tower was tall, but it was not very wide, and when they had finally gotten close enough the two slaves swiftly darted across the road and around its circumference. There were still no lights coming off the tower, and Adacon felt reassured that they hadn’t been seen.
“Doesn’t this place look abandoned? No guard on the balcony, no scout, no torches?” questioned Adacon.
“Don’t think too hard on it—you might spoil things,” replied Erguile with a wry smile. They crouched hidden amidst shrubbery that ran wild with vines and weeds that hugged the tower’s foundation. Wasting no time they began to scour the earth for the secret entrance Krem had described to them.
“Found it,” Adacon yelped immediately and too loudly.
“Quiet—we still have an element of surprise working for us. Do you want to lose that along with the old man?” Erguile chided. Adacon began to uncover the earth around a rusty old iron padlock; it seemed to be on the face of an inlaid square door, two yards wide and level with the soil. It looked as though it led down into a cellar just outside the tower.
“And how are we supposed to get past this?” asked Adacon dumbfounded, staring at the lock.
“Don’t remember there being mention of a lock…” said Erguile. They took turns fiddling with the padlock until they both gave up exhausted; the frustration had got so far as Erguile taking a swing at it with his sword, disregarding the noise it would make. Still, there was no sign of activity or noise in or around the tower.
“What can we do now but enter in from the front,” Erguile acquiesced.
“That door may be locked as well, and we could be walking right in on them,” replied Adacon.
“Well I don’t see any other choices, but it doesn’t seem to me there’s anyone here to be walked in on.”
“Maybe we should press on—leave this place and head toward the Rislind Plateau, then go on further east,” suggested Adacon. “Maybe Krem was wrong about this tower. Maybe it is abandoned.”
At that, a loud cracking noise sounded, and both Erguile and Adacon exclaimed in horror at what they turned to see: fallen to the ground from atop one of the trees they had been sheltering near was a mass of silver metal in the shape of an enormous man. It looked as though it had been perching atop a branch—around its body were long splinters of wood.
“What in the world,” Adacon whispered. They both drew their swords.
“Keep it quiet now; maybe he’s not dead,” whispered Erguile.
“What should we do?”
“Follow me, and be ready to strike it,” he uttered quietly as he stepped toward the tree less than twenty yards from where they stood. Cautiously, he made his way within ten yards of the hulking silver mass, Adacon tailing him. Adacon came up alongside Erguile as they finally came within striking range. They were now only several yards from the creature, and they stood in awe at the sight: the man was not truly a human at all, but some kind of a rock-like being; he was shaped much as a man would be, but larger than anyone either of the slaves had ever seen. The giant dressed in a leather chest-piece and greaves, and he wore faded boots the color of soil. His head had no hair, but was tightly bound in russet cloth above his eye line. On his belt there was a dagger big enough to be a man’s sword, and he wore gloves on either hand with finger holes cut in them to let his silver fingers through. The mass of silver began to move.
“Ugh, fallen again in my sleep—weak trees here,” spoke a deep voice.
“Name yourself—enemy or friend to slaves of Grelion?” shouted Erguile, forgetting his stealth and brandishing his sword.
“I’m sorry—didn’t see you there,” the silver giant said slowly.
“What kind of man are you?” Adacon rattled off in shock at what he was seeing.
“I am no man, Sir Adacon—I am Slowin, golem of the Red Forest, protector of the earth there,” retorted the silver mass. The two slaves stood aghast.
“Slowin?” Adacon gasped. “A name Krem spoke of, and you said mine.”