Darkin A Journey East - By Joseph A. Turkot Page 0,92
though, that the wereverns would take to such a ridiculous rumor—usually their information is reliable—but no two swordsmen alone could ever make a difference in a battle of this scale.”
“Flaer and Erguile!” Adacon burst.
“Pah! You’re sorrow stricken, boy,” Remtall said.
“Who are those you name?” Terion asked.
“Our friends whom we lost at sea, after a spell rent the ocean into a wall of ice, and it crashed upon our ship,” Adacon recounted.
“My goodness, it seems for a slave you’ve had more than your share of adventure in such a short time of freedom,” Terion replied in amazement.
“It was nothing I couldn’t fetch us from,” Remtall boasted, forgetting to mention the aid of the phantom ships.
“In any case, we do not recognize the story of the two fabled swordsman to be anything more than a myth of fancy, and for it our trust in the wereverns information has lessened,” said Terion.
“The prisoner approaches,” remarked a dwarf guard from the front entrance of the king’s chamber. Suddenly Slowin appeared, hands bound, mouth gagged with white cloth. Two guards led him in. Adacon thought of Slowin’s tremendous strength when he saw the flimsy shackles binding the metal golem. Surely Slowin could have escaped at any time, but why hadn’t he? Adacon wondered. At King Terion’s command the guards removed the cloth from Slowin’s mouth so that he could speak. Slowin glanced around the room at the company of the king. He smiled immediately at the sight of Remtall and Adacon, who returned the gesture, though they kept silent.
“As you may or may not know, the dwarves of Oreine believe you are the Key, as prophesized in the Waln Parchment. This is a powerful omen of ill fortune for our race, as the Key portends great evil, as written in the scriptures. This is the reason why you have been bound, and are soon to be destroyed in the fires of the Brolsrind Chasm. However—by a most odd stroke of fate—new information has come to light. It seems you have the best friends imaginable, those who would vouch you to be a close friend of Krem’s, and an ally in our battle against Vesleathren,” Terion said, looking directly at Slowin.
“Had you allowed me to speak when you first captured me you might not have had to wait so long to realize that,” said Slowin with coldness in his voice. It sounded strange, as Adacon was used to a measure of warmth in everything his golem friend said.
“Sorry, I am, for the abrupt magic that bound you, that kept you from speaking your peace from the first. But that is a matter I cannot reverse. I can, however, make amends to you, by freeing you here and now. Of course there is one condition, for the Prophecy lives too firmly in our culture for me to completely overlook the fact that you so resemble the Key…” Terion went on.
“What is the condition?” Slowin asked, displeased.
“March with us tomorrow, to the Wall of Dinbell, to aid the failing militia of Erol Drunne, who single-handedly defend us now. Prove to us in battle where you truly stand in this great struggle of good against evil,” Terion said.
“That is exactly what I had planned to do—how strange that is,” Slowin lied, as he had heard nothing about the situation at Dinbell. After another moment of silence, he seemed to calm down from a state of inner fury. “Free me please, now that you know I am not your prophecy...”
“Guards! Fetch good Merol to release his bonds,” Terion ordered. “And one other thing Slowin, which I presume you wish to be called. . .” Slowin did not speak, only grunted. “Once the war is over, and Vesleathren is defeated, you must grant me an audience, so that I might obtain all the information I can about you, so as to truly invalidate you from the Prophecy, for no reason other than the security of my kingdom.”
“Once this war is over, I shall be returning to the Red Forest in peace, to live among the wilds. Follow me there, and you may then ask all you wish to learn,” Slowin replied. At that moment, a short dwarf draped in a black robe and a tightly fitted black cap walked into the King’s Chamber. The dwarf held aloft a cane that looked somewhat similar to Krem’s, though less extravagant. The dwarf’s face was filled with black and grey hairs that shaped a thick beard and mustache.