Darkin A Journey East - By Joseph A. Turkot Page 0,37

for his triumph; but in the time of peace that followed the Feral cleansing he grew restless with greed. His great favor with the cultures of the world won him entitlement to whatever he pleased, and soon his greed overtook his valor.”

“What was this leader’s name?” Adacon queried, fascinated by the tale.

“Grelion Rakewinter.”

“Grelion!” Adacon cried.

“Can’t have been him,” Erguile said. Flaer shook his head and lay down for sleep.

“It’s true. But now Vesleathren has returned, from the grave it seems. And he has already been offering his dark magic to those who will take it. Bulkog certainly accepted, and he had already become Feral when you came upon him in the tower.”

“That explains the fire blast he used on us,” Erguile realized.

“Vesleathren will aid those who assist him, granting them great power through his black magic; even Grelion will be deeply fearful at his return,” Slowin foretold.

“Black magic? Is that not Vapoury?” asked Adacon.

“No. Black is the name given to magic that has a purpose selfish and destructive. That is why Vapours are known separately; they wield magic to righteous ends. Though they use the same source, they use it for good, and so it is Vapoury.”

“Good wizards against evil ones?” Erguile surmised.

“Precisely. Valiant Vapours against black mages. Vapoury against Black Mana.”

“But, as Krem said, all magic comes from Gaigas. Why then doesn’t Gaigas restrict those wishing to do harm with her energy?” Adacon quipped.

“Because Gaigas has no control over how living creatures use her force; she is not a conscious entity, as Krem might have you believe.”

“This is all very grand, but I am tired from battle. Grateful I am to be heading east and no longer confined to slavery, but alas, I need rest before we continue—and before my head is filled with more dark lore,” grumbled Erguile.

“Indeed, even silver golems require rest, though I prefer treetops to beds of grass,” said Slowin, and he left them for a nearby maple tree. After Slowin had climbed the tree to an astonishing height, he called down good night, though early dawn was breaching in. Adacon made a spot for himself and gave up trying to make sense of all that Slowin had told him; he truly was exhausted, and felt at least some comfort being in the company of Erguile and the golem. Flaer was useless however, until his bond was broken. Adacon shut himself down before thinking further, and fell fast asleep.

* * *

They hadn’t slept long before a loud chatter of birds woke them all up. First up was Erguile; he stretched and looked about. They had come off the plains and were now upon the Rislind Plateau—the plateau was mostly flat with bright green grass that ran high and intermingled with flowers of white, purple, and gold. Trees were clustered here and there—maples, oaks and pines. The trade road had led them southeast, but it looked to soon turn back north by cutting left ahead, back down the plateau. Erguile saw a fork where the road cut north; a smaller dirt path in the grass remained on the plateau and climbed higher up, east and toward the far precipice. In the direction of the dirt path was a stream, just visible between a burgeoning line of trees. In the direction of the trade road was another tower, faint in the distance, very far off, appearing identical to Ceptical.

Before long the entire outfit was up and moving. Erguile had prepared a small meal for breakfast—mainly bread, water, and stew. After eating, Slowin told them to follow his lead, and they began a slow pace toward the fork ahead. The sun was cooler than before, and it seemed that autumn was approaching faster each day. Nobody spoke, but both slaves felt cheery in their new fellowship; it hadn’t been long, after all, since they had been alone and locked out of the tower.

They followed the gravel road and came to the dirt path that curved up and away toward the southeast. The new tower, a twin to the one they had rescued Flaer from, now stood largely in the horizon to their left.

“The Brigun Autilus is there,” Slowin said. Flaer nodded at the mentioning, and the four set off down the trade road, away from the dirt path, off the plateau and toward the tower.

“What’s the Brigun Autilus?” asked Adacon.

“Flaer’s sword. It was Krem’s sincerest wisdom that we reunite Flaer Swordhand with sword,” Slowin hooted, and Flaer winked. “And best to do so now before Feral Broodlings come