Darkin A Journey East - By Joseph A. Turkot Page 0,39

of recovery.” Slowin showed them his hand where it had gripped the sword. His gloves had been burned through at the spot where he had held the handle, and his silver skin had become black and charred.

“I thought I smelled burning ore,” roared Erguile, and at that all four of them laughed, though Flaer inaudibly so.

Morale was high as the party followed Slowin. He led them back to the fork in the gravel road, and this time they took the eastern way onto the dirt path, leaving the slave trade route behind.

“What course is upon us now?” Erguile asked eventually.

“We travel tirelessly east now, through Rislind and on to the Saru Gnarl Cape,” Slowin proclaimed.

They marched long hours without stop on the dirt path, all the while alongside a stream that had grown to become a river. In the distance beyond the meadow they walked through was a small mountain range. It was a dwarfed cousin to the Angelyn Range, but still the sight excited Adacon.

“Is the ocean grand?” he asked curiously.

“Indeed. It is ferocious as well. Once across the Kalm Ocean, however, we will find refuge and counsel, and then I will be relieved of my task, and set free to return home to the Red Forest.”

“What of Flaer’s failed speech? Is there no remedy?” asked Erguile as Flaer issued a sidelong glance.

“We shall find a cure as soon as we are able to; the mana of Vesleathren runs deep in that curse, and I alone can do nothing against it,” Slowin answered.

“Surely you possess some magic Slowin; this orb saved our lives against Bulkog,” Adacon said, pulling the orb from his pocket. The orb was without brightness in the light of the sun.

“I possess some unique power—though if I use magic not even Krem can say,” Slowin replied, confusing the slaves.

“What’s that mean?” Erguile asked.

“I am not like other golems. Truly I am not of their race, though it is more like them than any other being I appear. True golems are made of stone and tree, plant and rock. I am different as such, I am a metal golem.”

“And there are no others?”

“No.”

They carried on, resisting the urge to continue an unending line of questions. Finally they reached the mouth of the river, a vast lake that ran into a waterfall at the precipice of one of the first mountains in the small Rislind range. The mountain range was tree-covered and sprawled in a circular fashion; shades of deep green shone brilliantly in the midafternoon sky. A mist clumped about the mountaintops, thick and wide. The lake was surrounded by burgeoning forest of a great many earth-shades; a mix of blue pine intensified amidst cedar and maple, covering thickly the lake edge and the slope of the nearest mountain. The group went along the side of the river toward the birth of the tree line. They stopped suddenly before entering; Slowin addressed them:

“This is the way into Rislind Village, whose eastern gate will take us by road to the Saru Gnarl Cape,” he told. “Be wary of the frightful things that make this forest their home.”

“But you’re here to protect us,” Adacon said.

“I am, and so is Flaer—but even we do not see all the spies of Vesleathren. Dark things abound this age of our world. Let us make haste toward peaceful rest in the village.”

They pressed in through the forest wall, leaving any remnants of the dirt path behind. Once within the forest shade there was no proper path, and Adacon questioned how they would find their way without getting lost—then he remembered Slowin was a forest golem.

“Rislind Village is hidden to passers, nomads and spies alike. No trade routes run this way, and Grelion knows not of its existence. There is a secret way into the valley within the mountains, known to but a few who are still friends to Krem. This pass is what we seek now.”

Slowin led them up a path that seemingly had never before been trodden; hazardous thorns and jagged boulders sprouted amidst massive trunks of birches, maples and pines. Scattered about the forest floor were trickling streams running between the boulders. Eventually the party tired, and panting they sat to have a drink.

“Ah, how refreshing,” piped Adacon, drinking his fill on all fours. They drank heartily until each was satisfied. Erguile broke out a stale loaf and passed it around.

“Slowin—you eat and drink the same as a human,” remarked Erguile.

“It is true; I need the same sustenance as you,” replied