Darkin A Journey East - By Joseph A. Turkot Page 0,79
hollowed trunk, wide enough to fit several men; therein was a narrow underground tunnel leading several yards underground. Inside she led them to a small room where thin elven blades and wood-shields clad the walls. They each grabbed a sword and shield, and in a hurry they returned to the elven formation just as it was about to leave. Among the elven men were several woman-elves going to war; behind the troop gathered the women and children of the village, alongside several elders too frail to travel north, all of whom were to stay behind. The elves remaining at Carbal Run wept openly at the departure of the strongest in their community. Calan said hasty goodbyes to loved ones she left behind, and Remtall and Adacon followed behind the company of elves as it began to march along a small trail cutting northeast from Carbal Run. Soon the post was out of sight behind them, and only thick droplets of mist could be seen hanging everywhere about the air, intertwined with thick jungle terrain. Many wondrous thickets of trees crowded the trail once the troop exited the jungle clearing of Carbal Run, and they marched at last into the heart of the jungle. The shrubbery and foliage was denser than anything Adacon had imagined possible, and constantly the forest seemed to be moving, making noise, breathing; every few seconds some kind of mysterious critter could be seen scurrying by, many of which were colored very strangely, with vivid stripes and spots, and Adacon couldn’t place a name on any creature he saw. The trail the company followed was well carved from the jungle, though it was only four yards above them that the jungle closed in, sealing off the sky, none of which could be glimpsed; only a spectrum of green hues, the rising trunks of the canopy, sprouted with tremendous vines, branches, leaves and trunks.
“How long of a march do we face?” Adacon asked.
“Pipe down boy. Never mind the length of the march, it matters not in the scheme of things!” Remtall riled.
“Sorry—I was curious.”
“Curiosity thwarts valor, young slave,” Remtall chided as he drank his elven sap liquor. As does your drink, Adacon thought to say in response, but he kept his mouth shut.
“It’s a week long march to the end of the jungle, and another day to the dwarven city of Oreine. The Wall of Dinbell is just a day’s march beyond that,” Calan said, ignoring Remtall’s harassment.
“A fine journey, I might say. I hope they have brought enough food for us,” Remtall said, coughing between gulps.
“We elves of the Carbal know ways to find nourishment from the forest, and there is hardly a stretch on the road where the jungle doesn’t lend herself to our appetites in some way or another,” Calan said.
“Are there many fruits along the way?” Adacon said excitedly.
“Certainly, a great variety of them: some delicious, some healing, some fatal.”
“And what of ale on the journey?” Remtall asked, calculating that he had not brought enough now that he knew the length of their march.
“I am afraid we have not had the time to secure such a luxury for this trip, as haste has become our greatest ally now,” Calan explained, winking at Adacon. Adacon smiled, and Remtall fell suddenly silent as the three marched on at the tail end of the elven troop. For many hours they continued on without any event.
Late in the day, when the golden rays of sun finally stopped lightening the shades of green above, Gaiberth brought the company to a halt. In elven speech he addressed the assembled troop, which numbered fewer than thirty.
“What’s he saying?” Adacon asked.
“We make camp here tonight,” Calan answered. Soon all the elves were rolling out mats of fuzzed moss that had been strung to their satchels. Adacon, Calan, and Remtall squeezed onto the end of one of the largest mats, sharing the company of several elves. Fires were started in spots along the length of the troop, running down the middle of the trail. A small meal was prepared for everyone, and to Adacon’s delight, there was Miew stew again. Calan went off to speak with Iirevale, and Remtall and Adacon sat alone after their meal. The sun had nearly set, and a darkness enveloped the forest in shadow, save for the flickering illumination offered by the small fires. The flames crackled softly, harmonizing with the nightly beasts that awoke for the night to sing or chirp or squeak or hunt.