Darkin A Journey East - By Joseph A. Turkot Page 0,75

outcrop, and the three took a short rest before continuing higher. Adacon peered out from the ledge, over broad leaves, and already he guessed that they were a hundred yards up. A shudder traced from his spine through to his fingers, and he stepped back.

“Beautiful!” he exclaimed in between gasps for air. Remtall didn’t bother to say anything; he panted meekly, concealing the effort it took him to catch his breath.

“Look there, in the distance: the Pouring Fountain of Granwyn,” Calan pointed out. Adacon strained his eyes, peering deep into the distance; his eyes glanced over the encampment, then farther into the jungle, unable to catch sight of a fountain. Finally he saw a bubbling stream near where Calan had pointed, and Adacon stuck out his finger at it.

“Is that it?” he asked.

“No, here,” Calan responded, and she touched his hand and guided the tip of his finger to the fountain which lay hidden between two small groves amidst tall shoots of grass. Adacon felt a rush of sensation when her hand had grasped his. He beheld the Fountain of Granwyn: a starward plume of water reflected bluish-gold sparkles in its stream, glittering determinedly, dancing somehow clear against the shrouding mists that clouded the air.

“It’s beautiful!” Adacon exclaimed, and suddenly he realized he was grasping her hand firmly, only to be embarrassed and pull it sharply away.

“Yes it is. I hope you will eventually have the chance to see the whole of our land, as there are a great many wonders to marvel at,” Calan smiled, and she led them back to their climb, but not before looking to Remtall, still heaving for air.

“Shall we wait a little longer?” she asked.

“Pah! Never mind a gnome’s wind—nor his stamina as it concerns upward thrusting; on elf, on!” Remtall barked, and finally they were all climbing up again, higher toward a nestled room, safe in the canopy of the Carbal Jungle.

IX: THE ENOAN ROAD

Remtall was the last to reach the summit atop the vertical hall. He came into a leafy room with several beds carved right out of the walls, which were actually the interior of the tree’s trunk. There were several small stools and a table, along with a stove already burning with fire, a pot atop it in one corner. The shiny droplets of mist were still in the air, but inside the room were less than outside, and Remtall could see more clearly. Adacon and Calan were already fast at work preparing some kind of elven feast that Remtall had smelled for the last leg of his climb.

“Smells like a fine supper coming, what are you making?” Remtall blurted out, trying to catch his breath without appearing winded.

“It’s Miew meat, stewed with many different fruits and vegetables found here in the jungle,” Calan explained.

“What is Miew?” asked Adacon, as he helped Calan withdraw utensils from a nearby wooden chest.

“A galloping rover of Carbal Jungle, an animal much like wild deer in Arkenshyr,” she explained.

“It doesn’t concern me what kind of meat it is, just as long as it’s meat all the same. Now where to the elven ale?” Remtall said.

“Ravenous, aren’t you?” joked Calan. “There.” She pointed to a wooden keg in another corner of the capacious room.

“Think I’ll fix a drop for myself—either of you two interested?” Remtall asked, able to breathe without trouble once more.

“No thanks,” Adacon responded, and Calan simply shook her head.

They continued making the meal, with Adacon repeatedly asking what to help with as she went about it. All the while Remtall sat drinking his ale, where he had found a spot on a balcony ledge, extending out from the trunk-room’s exterior, high amidst the jungle canopy. On the balcony outcrop Remtall lit his pipe, and far down below the Carbal Post seemed alive with lights and movement, shimmering hazily through the mist droplets.

“Wonder where that Yarnhoot has got off to…” Remtall said to himself, glancing back inside the room to see how the meal was coming along; he saw Adacon and Calan laughing merrily.

“Be falling in love soon enough, I expect,” Remtall chuckled to himself. “Course that’ll bring the boy his share of lessons.” The gnome sat ponderously and continued to drink his ale, puffing on his pipe when the mood for it struck him. The smell of Miew meat grew stronger, and soon the delicious scent was calling Remtall back inside, but not before Wester unexpectedly appeared, followed by Yarnhoot. The two birds surprised Remtall, and he nearly spilled his mug of