Darkin A Journey East - By Joseph A. Turkot Page 0,48
mist welded themselves together to form a sheet over top of the road. Although none of them could see more than ten yards in any direction, Adacon started in terror and halted Flaer and Fablefen.
“Something ahead, on the road!” he wailed. The other horses stopped and came together in a huddle. The road was barely six yards wide, a thin strip of earth amidst the vat, and each member of the party looked in vain through the fog to see something. Thunder clapped loudly and rain poured down; light drops came at first, soon turning heavy and furious. Weakhoof neighed in anxiety.
“I can’t see a thing,” Erguile said.
“Neither can I,” said Slowin. They all looked to Flaer who shook his head, having not seen anything either.
“But it was there!” Adacon said as he pointed directly ahead down the road. Still, nothing but dense grey fog and a charcoal sky filled their view, now accompanied by the cool downpour of heavy rain. Thunder clapped again and for a moment the sky lit up. Only Erguile had been looking directly ahead when the flash came, and in the brief light he had seen a tall striding figure.
“There! There’s a man coming this way!” Erguile yelped uncontrollably, much too loudly.
“I still see nothing…” Slowin said peering ahead, straining for any shape in the distance; he did not yet seem alarmed.
“How far away Erguile?” Adacon asked. Flaer wasted no time questioning the validity of the sightings; he drew the Brigun Autilus.
“The orb!” Erguile remembered, and Adacon reached frantically into his pocket and withdrew the orb of light that Slowin had given him. Immediately it shone in a unidirectional manner, and Adacon focused the beam of pearly light into the fog ahead. Against the dense rain and mist the light of the orb reflected back at the group, the glare blinding them. The orb of light shut off, but not before Slowin made out a human silhouette that flickered in the distance. Flaer saw it too, a mysterious stranger closing in on them.
“To the ground,” Slowin commanded as he hopped off Thunderhoof with shocking grace. The others followed suit and Slowin bade the horses back off behind them. Next to Flaer Slowin aligned himself, drawing quickly his weapons into his hands—mallet and dagger. Erguile drew his broadsword while Adacon equipped his bow, hoping he could still fire it in the rain with some accuracy. The four stood in front of their horses, forming a wall across the entire width of the road. The ferocity of the pelting rain increased, as did the volume of the thunder and lightning. It was a full blown storm, and the constant lightning gave away the approaching figure: a man’s shadow drifting in and out of darkness nearly twenty yards away.
“Brace yourselves,” Slowin prompted, and then he roared into the storm so loudly that Adacon and Erguile both trembled: “Who goes there?”
No response came, yet the shadowy figure continued toward them.
Several yards away the dark stranger stopped. He was cloaked in black from his feet to his neck, and a dark bandana covered neatly around his soaking head. There was a momentary pause, and Slowin questioned the shadow again:
“Name your business, stranger,” Slowin commanded.
“Is this road not public, for use by all in Grelion’s register?” responded a hoarse voice, barely audible over the din of rain. The stranger’s face was almost completely concealed by black wraps, leaving only slightly glowing red eyes to look upon.
“Then pass,” Slowin ordered, and he gestured for Flaer to step aside so that a gap opened in the road for the stranger to go through. The shadow did not move, it only continued to gaze at each of them. After several minutes, the stranger spoke again:
“I am sorry friend, but it is you who mustn’t pass. The way to Saru Gnarl is flooded ahead, and the city is become an island for the time being,” the man rasped.
“Then we will survey it for ourselves,” came Slowin, and he strode forth toward the stranger. The black man put up his arm, as if commanding Slowin to stop where he stood.
“Sheer might alone will not gain you passage this way, dear Slowin,” coughed the dark figure, and his eyes began to glow bright within the veiled visage.
Thunder and lightning echoed, coming in turbulent waves. Weakhoof had taken to excessive neighing, and the slaves feared the horses would run, so they held fiercely the reins. Flaer stood ominously behind Slowin, Brigun Autilus in hand.