Darkin A Journey East - By Joseph A. Turkot Page 0,43

Zesm himself, mere days ago in the Vashnod.”

“But how is Zesm to be trusted? He is ever the liar,” a drunken Remtall contested.

“Krem sensed Zesm’s power; he said it to be fiftyfold the power of the old Zesm,” Slowin said.

“I overheard him speaking; I heard him say he would return the next night to kill all of us, and it has been three nights now with no sign of trouble,” Adacon added.

“The liar, as I’d expect,” spat Remtall.

“It is no matter. I have faith in Krem’s portent, and he assured me Zesm will fall, as will Vesleathren, ere a Feral Army can be made again,” Slowin said.

The company sat momentarily in silence, and drank further into the evening. Slowin and Remtall made small talk for awhile, and the slaves chimed in with questions whenever they became confused, as often they did. Finally, Remtall returned to a serious consideration, and looked to Slowin.

“What truly is your errand in the East?” the gnome asked. They were well into their fifth pitcher now, and Flaer had closed his eyes to rest. Food had come to the table too, and with the fourth pitcher the group had feasted.

“We purpose to cross the Kalm, to the free city of Erol Drunne in Enoa,” said Slowin.

“Enoa? How do you expect to find a ship out of Saru Gnarl? Grelion is the keeper of that city, and it is the primary port of all his slave trade from Enoa to Arkenshyr! And should…” Remtall stuttered with drink, “—should you even somehow find passage across the Kalm, you would find no captain willing to go the route.”

“What’s wrong with the route to Erol Drunne?” poked Adacon.

“Wrong with it? I’m sorry, I forget quickly in drink that you are a slave, but the Erol Drunne pass is certain death,” Remtall shouted in stupor. The patrons in the bar knew better than to look at the commotion.

“Perhaps, but I am privy to information I cannot disclose here and now. And it is you, Captain Remtall, whom I seek to guide our vessel,” Slowin blurted out.

“Me? I—I haven’t sailed in twenty years!” shot back Remtall.

“Rightly so, but for most of your life you lived at sea, and in your time you were the best there was, as pirates go,” Slowin responded, taking a quick sip of ale, unaffected by his alcohol.

“I cannot do it, it would be suicide,” Remtall exclaimed.

“I don’t think it would be, not with you guiding the helm,” Slowin insisted.

“I have never attempted the route, not even in my most daring years as a youth.”

“It matters not, for this is our hour of need, and yours alike. Rislind will not sit long hidden among the mountains—not while Vesleathren plots to assail the whole of our world,” Slowin came back. Remtall sat sullen, head turned down. He was obviously considering it, albeit drunkenly so. Slowin revealed his trump card:

“It is the only way of avenging your son. It is only by reaching Erol Drunne that we may defeat Vesleathren, and Zesm in turn.”

“Aagh—alright. I will attempt it, but gaining a worthy ship out of Saru Gnarl I will not engage in, for I think that errand to be more foolish than making the sea-trip to Erol Drunne,” Remtall exclaimed.

“Alas, securing the ship is my task, with the aid of Flaer, I hope,” Slowin said. Flaer briefly looked up, not apparently asleep after all; he nodded in agreeance.

“And us too,” Erguile rallied.

“Yea!” Adacon chimed between burps.

“But of course,” Slowin responded, and he began to tell of the plan he had in mind for stealing a ship worthy to cross the ocean. He talked long into the early morning until it became ineffective to talk further, as the ale had taken its final toll on them for the night. It had been thoroughly outlined that Slowin, Flaer, Adacon and Erguile would travel to the cape city of Saru Gnarl where they would stealthily take a ship. They would then sail south along the coast to Kalm’s Point, where Remtall could safely board. From then on out it would be Remtall’s ship, and until they harbored in Enoa they would answer only to him.

“On to bed then—follow me,” said Remtall, and he led them all upstairs to their rooms. The last two to bed were Slowin and Adacon, who shared a room. Slowin slept half off his mattress; he seemed comfortable despite the small bed. Before nodding off, Adacon rattled off his last question of the night.

“Is Erol Drunne a free city?”

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