Darkin A Journey East - By Joseph A. Turkot Page 0,33

of your journey,” said Slowin. “It is why I am here, and far from home.”

“A friend of Krem’s—I suppose we’re in no danger from you then. Still, we have this tower to sack, and we are too loud,” Erguile said, regaining his composure.

“It is that very task that I can assist you with,” Slowin said, standing up to full height. He was colossal, nearly twice as tall as Adacon, and of magnificent girth.

“How is it you were able to hide here, so close to the tower?” asked Adacon.

“Krem’s Vapoury of course,” responded the silver golem.

“Where has he gone then?” Erguile asked.

“He had a grave errand—unexpected, it sounded when he told me,” Slowin replied.

“It had to have been something with that Zesm,” Adacon chimed.

“Quiet,” Erguile warned. They had forgotten stealth, and were talking loudly, since the crack of the tree and Slowin’s crash to the earth.

“Don’t worry Erguile,” Slowin reassured. “Bulkog is drunk and hallucinating in the tower, and the other guards have fled in haste two nights ago at hearing word of Zesm the Rancor’s return.”

“You have been in the tower already?” questioned Adacon.

“No, Krem told me last night, after summoning me from my rest.”

“That bastard—doesn’t let on all he knows does he,” Erguile spat.

“I owed him a debt, and I am repaying it now, as an escort for you both,” said Slowin.

“Are we in no danger now then?” asked Adacon.

“Of course there is danger; but rest assured, while you are under my watch, no harm will come to you,” Slowin said, standing as a hulk with his arms crossed over his otherworldly construction of a body. His stone skin seemed to be made out of something metallic as per its sheen, and his enormous frame appeared to be organic; there was fluidity in its design not apparent in the crafted machines of men.

“And enough questioning, for haste is set upon our errand. Enter, and do as was your plan at the start,” Slowin said, and he strode toward the tower. The slaves followed, and when there Slowin drew forth a mallet that had been hidden on his back under garments. After hoisting his mallet, he brought it down with great force upon the padlock. Out rang the clangorous echo of metal on metal, and the padlock lay broken apart.

“Aren’t you going to come?” asked Adacon, as Erguile already began lowering himself through the door into the cellar below.

“Ahaha! I had forgotten the humor of humans—does it look like I might fit through?” Slowin laughed loudly, throwing caution to the wind. “Now go, make haste.”

Adacon followed Erguile down into the cellar, and soon they were half crawling in a dank and dust filled cavern with no light. The cellar was wide but not tall enough for either of them to stand, and they could see nothing but a soft trail of starlight coming from the open door.

“And what now, how are we going to ever find the way in from here?” Adacon grunted.

“Krem didn’t account for this part then, did he,” Erguile groaned. At the last word of Erguile’s a thud came from behind them. Spinning around, they saw a small orb of glowing white on the cellar floor, fallen in from the door above.

“Use it well, slaves. It is my light for times such as these,” called down Slowin. Adacon picked up the shining orb—feeling like a heavy ball of marble—and realized that it sent a shaft of light toward whichever direction he thrust it.

“A magic trinket from a golem—our journey grows queerer by the hour,” Erguile chortled.

“Thanks Slowin,” Adacon called up, and he turned toward the dark parts of the cellar. Once lit, the layout of the den was simple: a floor of orange sand, wooden crates, and several sacks scattered about an otherwise empty chamber. Toward the end of the room against the opposite side was another door: a small wooden square that appeared to have another lock on it. The slaves hurried toward it, hands ready by their sword hilts.

“Another lock,” Adacon said, frustrated.

“Pay it no mind, this one I ought to handle fine,” Erguile said, and then he reversed his position so as to set his back against Adacon’s. With a heave, he thrust both feet forward, cracking the wood. Again he assaulted it, using Adacon for leverage. With a loud splintering crack the door caved completely in, and new light poured forth. The small orb in Adacon’s hand suddenly went dark; it became a lifeless mix of grey and black. Erguile went through first,