Darkin A Journey East - By Joseph A. Turkot Page 0,49

name? Reveal your purpose here tonight,” demanded Slowin, raising his mallet and dagger slightly.

“Folly would it be to strike with weapons such as those against me, metal golem of the Red Forest. You wander too far from home, on an errand you are not fit for,” replied the dry voice. Adacon couldn’t believe what he was witnessing, if only because Slowin’s might was being challenged; the slaves had now reckoned Slowin to be invincible.

“We shall see,” Slowin said. Suddenly the giant golem raged forth, dagger and mallet twisting in a death-thrust at the stranger. A scarlet-orange flash issued from the eyes of the man and Slowin was quaked down by an earth-tremor at his feet; his weapons flew from either of his hands out into the swamp.

“Ughrrr,” Slowin groaned, tasting mud as he stumbled to the ground, his knee boring deep into the gravel. Flaer’s blade suddenly lit to an extraordinary brilliance; the light transformed into a ruby-pearl hue that blinded the slaves. He leapt toward the stranger; Adacon squinted and saw the strange man attempt to quake Flaer with energy from his eyes as he had Slowin, only this time the blast emanated out only to be absorbed directly into the Brigun Autilus. At seeing his attack fail, the shadowed man drew a sword from his side and blocked Flaer’s downward slice; blue sparks flitted.

Adacon fixed an arrow on the black stranger and let it fly as Erguile stood by waiting to strike. The arrow glanced off the robes of the stranger, appearing to stop short at some kind of invisible wall. Slowin slowly regained his feet and stood up once more.

Flaer dueled ferociously with the cloaked figure, working him away from the rest of the group. Slowin prepared to rush forward again, but only stayed at seeing Flaer with the fight well in hand; the Brigun Autilus was throbbing bright as ever with each strike, and the dark figure seemed beaten back almost to defeat.

“Ragh!” screamed the shadow, and an eruption of fire emitted from his dark folds. Flaer fell back but kept his footing, as the Brigun Autilus absorbed most of the blast; still, enough energy shot past, and Flaer stood dazed for a moment. In the lapse of attack, the man raised his arms skyward and issued forth a foreign-tongued command. The gravel road began to shake, and the horses fled away down the slave road, galloping toward Rislind. Adacon and Erguile both fell to their knees on the tremulous road, and soon even Slowin stumbled. Flaer stood strong and raised his sword again.

“Who is it in Slowin’s party I have not accounted for—what strange power was missed?” said the vile figure, glaring at Flaer.

“You have not accounted for Flaer Swordhand, erstwhile known as Flaer the Slayer,” belted the Brigun Autilus itself as Flaer brought the charged sword down upon the stranger; he was quick to block with his own sword, but this time he fell backwards and to the ground at the might of Flaer’s strike.

“It cannot be—Swordhand is long dead, killed in the final blast of the Five Country War,” the stranger said in bewilderment, face buried in mud and gravel of the road. Flaer’s sword spoke no response, instead readying itself for a death pierce into the head of the cloaked enemy. The Brigun Autilus came down with force after the stranger rolled to the side, barely escaping; he jumped back to his feet and backed away, stammering in anger:

“Be you Flaer or not, it is no matter now. The hour of Vesleathren’s assault is at hand, as is the death of all those who might oppose him. Friends of Vapoury, behold your end. Even Lord Grelion will kneel before the true savior soon,” rallied the mysterious black figure. He backed farther away as Flaer stood in guard. Lightning streaked across the sky, and the black man spoke once more in his retreat:

“Know that your friend, Krem the Vapour, is dead—and know that he didn’t die before giving away your route—so that you could be destroyed.” The stranger dove head first from the side of the road into the murky depths of the swamp. He started swimming away on the surface of the water, and before he disappeared he shouted once more to them:

“It is too late for you—I have already summoned Holfog, spawn of Delfog! He issues forth now, so fly away, if you can muster wings.” The stranger cackled hysterically with laughter in the swamp, finally diving underneath the water, disappearing.