Darkin A Journey East - By Joseph A. Turkot Page 0,5
the ground where, after a loud crack, blood pooled. One more, he tallied. The last archer sat hidden somewhere below, nowhere to be seen. With reckless abandon, Adacon flew down the tower ladder, hopped the slain guard at its landing, hit the earth, and ran toward the stone wall. He threw his bow to the ground and again unsheathed his sword. Gripping the hilt with both hands, he felt new energy course through his muscles—he stalked forth, and the fragrance of melted flesh bathed him once more.
He prowled the brush along the looping stone wall, searching the thicket where the archer had disappeared into. He froze to listen for noise—nothing. He grew impatient and started a mad search, untangling each piece of knotted brush. Suddenly, he heard the unmistakable sound of a twig snapping. It had come from behind.
He spun around to meet a cocked bow pointed at his face. The sentry launched an arrow at the slave’s throat; Adacon reacted in time, reeling his sword upward in an instinctive reflex, severing the bow’s sturdy frame. The arrow limply glanced from his neck, drawing a thin line of blood. The guard stumbled back in despair, and Adacon locked onto his eyes. They shared a brief moment of compassion before he swung his great blade around, this time horizontally at the guard’s abdomen.
Snapping out of his momentary daze, the guard unsheathed his short sword and parried upward, causing a clangor of metal to break the quiet. Blue sparks of steel on steel fed Adacon’s desire for freedom. The sentry struck back in the next second, thrusting powerfully in an upward slice at his torso—but he reacted as if possessed, countering without effort. The sentry wobbled off balance for a moment, stooping slightly to regain his footing—Adacon wasted no such chance, swiftly beheading the fazed guard. The guard hit ground with a thump.
A wail echoed from several yards away, and Adacon glanced to a still living guard, lying on the earth, grappling with an arrow stuck in his gut. He thought for a moment about sparing the helpless man, but memories of Remtall flooded in—there could be no mercy now. He thrust down once more, ending the cries, and a light filled his head…
The farm is free; at least for the moment. A fallen farm, he guessed, would take several days to replenish its guards; it was more than enough time to clean the evidence and make a swift and long departure. But he was not concerned with evidence; he felt that he had perpetrated no unlawful act. The words of his lost friend Remtall echoed in his head. This is the start, he thought. He sheathed his sword. The air had grown extremely foul, it seemed fouler than ever before, and he grew anxious to leave the smell behind. The landing of the tower ladder was painted scarlet, and Adacon had begun to leave his mark in the History of Darkin.
The gate to the outside world was fifteen yards away. He slowly walked the path. This is the start, he thought: there is no repenting this, not to the lords. He did not know where to travel once he made it beyond the farm gates, but he decided he ought to go east, in hope of finding free countries; he did not trust the slave lore, nor the tales of the elders, but he had no other hope. He knew it was more likely he would be picked up by sentries marching across the countryside, or by routing posts hidden throughout the land, only to be tortured and hanged. The guards of the lords had the right to sentence immediate death unto a slave. But fear was a feeling he now had no use for, it seemed—it was a newly estranged remnant of his old form. The sun leaked a hint of its first somber pink glow in the distance. Adacon wiped the blood from his brow and broke away from his past, through the farm’s gates.
II: KREM THE VAPOUR
He had the clothes on his back, the boots on his feet, the sword at his hip, and the bow and arrows on his back, but Adacon did not have much else—certainly no food for making a long trip away from the farm. He knew he was not coming back, that he was leaving on a quest toward the hope that there were free countries in the east. It would be his new responsibility to find food and drink along the way,