Darkin A Journey East - By Joseph A. Turkot Page 0,45

to converse.

“It looks like we have a tremendous adventure in front of us, eh?” Erguile prodded his horse. Weakhoof groaned miserably and looked away.

“A fine partnership already,” Remtall poked, drinking from his flask again.

“Let us go then. Vesleathren acts surely as we do, and our hope lies not in Rislind, but across the Fang Shoals,” Slowin commanded.

“Yes, yes: All is well now that the sea calls me back and I seek revenge for my son,” said Remtall. He was wearing a new pack for his journey; he sat down for a moment, taking off the pack and grabbing from within it a leather flask, thrice as big as the one fastened at his hip. He promptly refilled the smaller flask and drank anew.

“It is unwise, Remtall, to drink so much at this early hour of our departure,” Slowin said with concern. “We shall need all your wits.”

“Hah, my wits will be kept in perfect order at Kalm’s Point, this day at Dusk,” Remtall replied. “I have only to tell the mayor here of my going, and then Yarnhoot will guide me away from this village for the first time in ten years.”

“Farewell then, Remtall, that we may meet you soon,” said Slowin, and the party exchanged farewells and mounted their steeds. Erguile had the most trouble, stumbling and falling off twice before finally finding his seating. They trotted down the main road out of Rislind, leaving by the eastern gate. They waved to a few straggling citizens who gawked at Slowin, and Thunderhoof, whom he dwarfed. Finally the three horses and their riders were traveling east once more, down the path that led toward the emerald foothills.

“I am upset we didn’t stay longer, I wanted to meet trolls,” said Adacon as they approached the first line of trees.

“There will be a better time for that; the journey we attend is more pressing,” replied Slowin.

“I know; they just fascinate me so!”

The three horses worked their way up a steep gradient and to the surprise of all the horses made the trespass appear easy. Every ten minutes the group would wait up on account of Weakhoof, the only horse stumbling on the rocky terrain.

“Come on you bastard!” Erguile yelled. “Who has a whip for this brute?”

“Be patient with him,” said Adacon.

“Yes, Weakhoof is doing his best,” Slowin added.

The trek up and out of Rislind through the eastern route was surprisingly easier than the path in, and before long they came to another secret pass at high elevation. A boulder among a great many, along the side of a high ridge, blocked the way through. All around was a steep drop, but the horses were sure-footed, even Weakhoof. Slowin dismounted and treaded carefully along the thin path toward the enormous boulder, indistinguishable from the others nearby.

“Remtall said it would be marked,” Slowin said, bending down on one knee to look for an etching. In very small print near the bottom of the boulder was a tiny carving that read ‘Fare On East.’

“This is it,” Slowin said, and he told the others to back up some, and in a moment he squatted down and began to stretch his arms around the circumference of the massive hunk of rock. Even Slowin’s arms looked puny against the size of the rock, and Slowin grunted as loud as he had ever done. With a start the boulder began to roll to the right, and having nowhere to go on the slim ridge it rolled down the mountainside, crashing its way through dozens of trees, sending startled birds into the sky to avoid its destruction.

“How did you know which boulder had the marking?” Adacon asked, stunned once more at Slowin’s power.

“Am I not a Metal golem of the Red Forest? I have dwelt long enough in Nature to know when man has restructured her,” Slowin answered, ushering them through the passage. “No matter how small the tampering is.”

“On the western side the vine wall grew back to block the way in, so what of this pass? Won’t the secret way to Rislind be open for all to enter?” Erguile worried. Flaer looked toward Erguile and motioned upwards, and Erguile looked overhead. At just that moment a thunderous crackle echoed from the ridge above, and over its lip another huge boulder began to roll. It seemed to be rolling off at just an angle to drop into the place of the boulder just removed.

“Dear god!” Erguile yelled. Terrified, he smacked Weakhoof’s side repeatedly until the old horse trotted on