Darkin: The Prophecy of the Key (The Darkin Saga Book 2) (17 page)

“So many strange things in this world, so many things I don’t know…” Adacon thought aloud.

“Well, they would have given us no trouble were it not for that hawk,” Falen said, justifying how his course was thrown off, pitting them into the trap of the League of the Mage.

“Don’t take it to heart, old friend—none of us has ever seen such a thing—such an omen,” Krem responded, having forgotten momentarily about the giant bird that had swept overhead, leaving them all petrified with wonder.

“Look!” Adacon yelled, and in the distance a straggling creature, one of the League, was limping toward them with his hands in the air, signaling that he was unarmed, without his staff.

“You can relax, he poses no threat,” Krem said, calming Adacon. “Let us hear what he wants.”

The human-like figure strode forth in uneven steps, falling hard against his left leg occasionally, barely able to right itself. Soon the fur-robed being came into close view, its lidless green eyes glaring in a permanent gesture of threat, but an easy smile traced its lips, and it spoke the common tongue to them:

“I am sorry, strangers, for what has happened here,” the odd looking creature spoke in an accent stranger than its appearance.

“Pay it no mind. We are unharmed, aside from some nausea,” Krem replied, calmly and without anger. What is he thinking, Adacon bemused; why doesn’t he kill him?—he couldn’t understand why Krem was so trustworthy and forgiving of one of the creatures that had just tried to mercilessly destroy them all. “Speak your peace then, so that we may make a better judgment of your character—if there is to be one.”

“Sparing him Krem?” Falen barged in, mirroring the rage Adacon felt at the creatures for having attempted to murder them all.

“My brothers and sisters are all slain here. I beg only that you hear my words,” came its raspy voice; Adacon thought he traced sadness.

“Go ahead, I have given you my patience already,” Krem responded, still unalarmed by the creature, and the man stopped several yards in front of them, watching each of them, and then began to speak.

“We were conducting a drain
,
we meant you no harm. A power has come into the planet, something greater than any of you can imagine. We were attempting to drain it, as you flew by and were caught in the path of our channel
.
”

“What do you mean drain?” Adacon quickly asked, feeling for his sword and being relieved to find it still at his side.

“Let him continue,” Krem interrupted.

“A drain, fair human, is the sapping of a magical energy source—and we were attempting to drain this new power, dark and evil as it is, growing immeasurably each passing hour—”

“You are in the League of the Mage, are you not? Your purpose is to destroy the moons of Darkin, is it not?” Krem countered.

“I was—
It was,
” the man replied, and there was silence for a moment, as Krem and his friends exhibited patience, while the standing man rubbed his chest, reaching underneath his robe. After a deep sigh, he revealed his hand from under his robe, and Adacon grabbed quickly at his hilt for fear that the creature was taking out a weapon—but he had only been rubbing a wound, a splinter in his chest, as blood-streaked fingers made evident.

“Is it bad?” Krem asked. Suddenly, the injured man slumped to the ground. Krem rushed forward with lightning speed and grabbed the fainting creature before it fell hard against the ice.

“Doesn’t look so good,” Falen acknowledged indifferently.

“We’ll make camp here tonight, I want to get all the information I can from him,” Krem explained. Adacon shuddered at the idea of staying a night in the freezing cold crevasse, surrounded by ripping winds and sprays of ice, and he realized that Krem had long since dissolved the warmth bubble that had been working on him earlier.

“If you can create heat, I’m fine with it,” Adacon said, disguising his complaint.

“Suits me fine. I need a while to rest, my left wing is battered,” Falen complied.

“Alright laddy, help me get him up onto the flat,” Krem motioned, and together they heaved the unconscious creature onto the flat piece of ice that had been the League’s point of congregation earlier. Finally, they laid him flat, and Krem went to work, sending wisps of jade-colored energy into the unconscious man’s chest. Adacon went to the packs strapped to Falen’s side, taking out some of the food stored there for them to eat.

Night fell upon icy slopes, and Darkin’s three moons ripened in the sky, full and glowing, floating jovially amidst a sea of bright stars and indigo dust.

“There’s something missing in the sky tonight,” Adacon noticed.

“Dear Gaigas…” came the stunned voice of Krem.

“It’s gone!” Falen chimed in, shocked.

“You’re right—the growing star is gone!”

“All that uproar at the council, over nothing!” Krem replied after a moment of contemplation.

“It was awfully strange while it lasted though,” Falen added.

“I didn’t think it was anything to be so worried about,” Adacon replied, feeling the warmth of Krem’s magic seeping deep within his skin, heating him in endless waves.

“No—I wasn’t so sure, but now at least there’s one less thing that we need to be troubled with, eh lad? Still not one for a smoke?” Krem asked, sparking his pipe with a flick of his finger, igniting the weed inside.

“No thanks,” he answered then lay down to gaze up at the sparkling heavens, warm even against the hard surface of the frozen plain.

“You know old man, I’ll have a pipe,” came the drake, and Adacon laughed.

“A dragon smoking a pipe!” he laughed boisterously, but Falen paid him no mind, and eagerly took the pipe Krem extended. Adacon looked over to their still unconscious captive, then back to the sky, but he couldn’t stop chuckling—a dragon with a pipe he thought, a dragon with a pipe.

XII: PALAILIA

Behlas bore his trailing party into thick seeping quags, treading quick and light so as to not sink into the muck, somehow finding an elegant path of drier grass that seemed to carry them buoyantly over the marsh. Above Remtall and Ulpo was a small patch of clear night sky—for a moment the tree canopy of the Endless Forest was gone.

“The star’s not there!” Ulpo realized.

“By Gaigas, you’re right—keen are dwarf eyes!” Remtall replied, freezing in his tracks to stare up at the predawn sky—the biggest star in the heavens was no longer there.

“It will be dawn soon, we must make haste. The entrance is only two miles away,” urged Behlas, as he stopped to look back at his still-frozen comrades who had lost their stride to gaze at the sky—Remtall and Ulpo both hadn’t realized they were sinking fast into mud.

“Dear whoring gods!” Remtall yelped, noticing his feet had disappeared entirely beneath the quicksand vat of steaming marsh. The tiny gnome struggled terribly, and gripped onto Ulpo’s arm, who himself was struggling to break free from the mud enveloping them.

“Here,” Behlas said, extending his arm to Remtall. Remtall wasted no time, hoisting himself then Ulpo out of the mire.

“There’s no time for standing still, not while we remain on the bog,” ordered Behlas, and he promptly led them further into the stink-ridden mire.

“What do you know of that thing, ghost?” Remtall asked, following once more behind the pasty glowing silhouette of Behlas.

“Of what?” asked the spirit.

“The star—did you know what it was?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, in fact, be thankful—the tribes of this forest will no longer be on alert, seizing wandering gnomes and dwarves that cross their path,” joked Behlas.

“It is strange though, that such a thing would grow, grow, and grow, only to disappear,” muttered a baffled Ulpo, trailing them.

“I don’t know what it was, a passing comet, perhaps,” Behlas guessed.

“Passing? It looked quite stillborn to me!” cried Remtall, feeling his head begin to throb again. “Does Parasink keep a good supply of liquor?”

“No, he doesn’t keep any that I’ve ever seen.”

“Blast this unsettler of gnomes! I’ll wring his neck for its juice!” Remtall said, broiling in anger.

The party trekked on, clearing the last bits of marsh, entering a thick pine-covered trail. The path was fairly easy to navigate for Behlas, and it seemed to Ulpo and Remtall a well-beaten trail. The stink of the marsh left, replaced by a snappy scent of fresh pine groves; as they hiked further into the Endless Forest, the canopy returned to blot out any trace of dawn overhead.

“How much further?” complained Remtall after another half-hour had passed, and the incline of their trail had increased tremendously. The poor gnome was breathing violently, and with each step up onto the next boulder or trunk he grunted loudly.

“Not much further.”

“And how much higher?” Ulpo asked, noticing that the sharp rise of the trail did not show signs of easing—it was quite the opposite: more and more rocks appeared on the incline of the forest, and each boulder seemed to lead to two more, and it felt to him as if they were now climbing a staircase, hugged closely by shrub pines.

“Not much higher—Ulpo, does not dwarven blood run through your veins? This should be proper travel for you, I’d think.”

“Of course,” Ulpo quipped, concealing the sound of his deep breaths temporarily. “I asked for Remtall’s sake.”

“Bah, you liar!” Remtall spat, and turned to tackle Ulpo at his knees. Together, both dwarf and gnome went tumbling hard backwards, tripping over a root lying across the trail. Behlas darted to help, but it was too late, and they crashed heavily into a sharp rock several yards down.

“Aaah!” cried Remtall. Ulpo moaned heavily. To Behlas’s surprise, the dwarf shook the spill off and stood up immediately.

“What for, Remtall? That sore are you without your drop?” Ulpo riled.

“Never mind—you would make me look like a weak half-gnome in front of him!” Remtall retorted, still angry at Ulpo. He mumbled in pain to himself, and Ulpo extended his hand, helping the gnome up—a drizzle of blood ran down his cheek, into his beard, and another streak traveled down his arm.

“More salve please,” Remtall grunted. Behlas fetched more of his healing salve, and through much goading, got the two to start following him quietly.

“There,” whispered Behlas after another half-hour of uneventful climbing.

“I don’t see anything.”

“There…” Behlas repeated, this time pointing at a gully, barely visibly in the slow creeping morning rays that lit the forest floor. It wasn’t much, but Ulpo and Remtall saw now what Behlas pointed at—a cave entrance buried at a dip in the treed hillside. 

“What a puny entrance—this great Parasink is ill-fit to craft a dungeon,” Remtall remarked, surveying the grass-covered hole. It just a bit taller than he was, but twice as wide, and slightly off trail from where they had been climbing.

“It’s not the main entrance to Palailia, of course—” answered Behlas. “This is the Northwest Way of Old, a route no longer used—it was sealed until I passed.”

“Sealed?” asked Ulpo.

“See that pile of rubble?” said Behlas, signaling them to a heap of rocks, roots, and broken brush. “It was keeping the hole shut, until I passed out this way—we can enter Palailia unnoticed.” Behlas led them in, and together they passed into a cave, only Behlas having to crouch slightly. Once inside, the only light came from the Behlas’s skin, dimly lighting the walls of the dank cavern. Remtall peered around the featureless cave—the walls were lined with wet moss and fungal growths, the ground was slimy. Ulpo entered last, and they trekked down a long winding floor, but slowly the ground grew firmer and drier, and eventually the green moss on the walls of the cave died away, leaving the bare rock. The cave widened out to twice its original width, and Remtall stepped alongside Behlas.

“Where can we find Parasink?” Remtall asked, getting to the point of their mission.

“Parasink will not be unguarded, though he hasn’t needed a guard for many decades—this attack will be most unexpected, and I hope that we alone are enough to destroy him,” answered Behlas.

“Well then, what’s the plan?” asked Ulpo.

“We should pass the miners’ quarters up to the right, then head directly to the Gear Chamber.”

“Gear Chamber?” asked Remtall.

“You’re of gnomen descent, and know nothing of the Gear Chamber?”

“Enlighten me, ghost,” replied an impatient, sarcastic Remtall.

“The Gear Chamber is the place where the gnomes built their digging machines, steam-powered contraptions that drill for ore in the mountainside.”

“And past the Gear Chamber?” asked Ulpo.

“Well, that’s the tricky part, see—since Parasink doesn’t require machines to dig for him, he has spirit slaves, which are much faster and more effective—he uses the Gear Chamber to conduct experiments.”

“What do you mean by that?” Remtall said in alarm, his voice reverberating down the hall, echoing back to them.

“Quiet. I don’t want the other spirits to know of our presence.”

“And what about it then?” Ulpo whispered.

“Well, the Gear Chamber experiments—Parasink plays at a mix between flesh and steel—he’s found a way to incarnate the machines; they’re half spirit-being, flesh and blood, and half powered motors—imbued with his black magic.”

“That sounds like a treat—let’s have a look, shall we?” Remtall said.

“Won’t the other spirits join us and fight, to seek their freedom?” asked Ulpo.

“I fear not, friend—the spirits here have been stripped of their last shred of free will. They cannot think or feel much other than a hollow despair that sustains them.”

“How are they sustained on despair?”

“Parasink’s magic has made it so—their despair dwells upon a hope of eventual death—his corrupt mind has found a way to sustain them, keeping them tame forever.”

“Then how is it you came to possess a will?”

“I was once a Vapour,” replied the glowing spirit.

“You were?!” 

“Indeed—and before I was struck down and killed by a Gear, I cast a spell on myself,” Behlas explained.

“What kind of spell?”

“A barrier, a last wall against the total control I knew I was about to fall under—and so I half-countered the evil spell of Parasink, but it was not enough. I only retained enough of my mind to know that when the blink
happened—when I somehow temporarily lost my body—I knew to run. I felt something different, and that it was my only chance to seek freedom. I had a moment of clarity.”