Darkin: A Journey East (26 page)

“Go—but know what fate awaits you alone in foreign jungles, young traveler,” Iirevale said, making a last effort to deter Adacon from succumbing to the madness of Remtall’s flight.

“Farewell—Gaigas let us meet again soon,” Adacon grunted, and he sped away up the trail, much to the bewilderment of the company of elves who watched, patiently awaiting word from one of their commanders. Iirevale looked to Calan and knew immediately he was to lose his sister also.

“I know there is nothing you can do, but please—at least let me go unhindered,” Calan said gravely. “All our family is dead.” Iirevale glared at her; a dilated moment slipped by.

“You must not go!” Iirevale roared, and the others of the company quieted to witness the confrontation.

“I am gone,” Calan whispered. In a flash she vanished into the brush, too fast to be grabbed. Iirevale ran after her, forgetting his better judgment and duty. The company of elves turned toward a disheartened Gaiberth, who, at once accepting the loss, began to instruct them with a course of action against the warpede.

Calan ran north as fast as her strong legs would carry her, parallel to the trail. Trying with all his strength, Iirevale could not catch her, though he ran only yards behind. She flickered in and out of vision: he caught sight of her, only to lose her again behind a bend of thickets or branches. Ahead in the distance Iirevale could hear another noise on his right, coming from the road. He glanced in that direction to witness a man running along the main trail—it was Adacon. Suddenly, Calan cut out of the dense jungle and onto the trail, alongside Adacon, surprising him, and they ran north together. Iirevale manifested a fiery burst of energy from his spirit, and cutting back onto the trail he caught up with them.

“At least let me join your miserable rank then!” Iirevale shouted. “So that we might kidnap this maddened gnome and return him to our company alive.” Adacon and Calan continued running at human speed, and Iirevale took the lead.

“You know you’re both mad—completely mad,” Iirevale chided.

“Not as mad as Remtall, at least,” Adacon said, smiling at the company of the elves. “Who’d have guessed he could run so fast?”

“I feel the quaking of the warpede,” Iirevale said, and Calan nodded, though to Adacon’s dull human senses nothing could be felt.

The three pressed on fast, rounding a sharp corner that led them to a vine-girded stretch of road. Adacon finally felt the vibrations; noises of thrashing, and the cracking of tree trunks echoed at them from ahead. Another bend came in the trail, circumnavigating an outcropping hill of thorns. After the road wrapped back around, the runners beheld Remtall, standing in a cleared field of splintered trees. The trail disappeared where the warpede-strewn carnage of mangled branches and felled trees buried the road—and directly in front of Remtall was an erect monster, glinting in shining gold armor: there upon its many-legged haunch stood the warpede, a
Gazaran
. It reared its head, and down its abdomen, on either side, ran a thousand-spiked row of wriggling feet. It looked to Adacon like a horrific worm, covered in armor, several yards in girth, countless yards long. The creature’s face undulated with writhing mandibles of pus-ridden needles, the frightening teeth that protruded from all sides of its armored head. Remtall stayed his feet before the giant centipede’s uncoiling body, and the two locked into a stare of death. The warpede dove toward the tiny gnome, mouth gaped, and several pincers seized Remtall to feed him into its jaw.

“No!” Adacon shouted, rushing forward, tackling Remtall out of the grip of the pincers; in confusion the warpede struck its armor-plated head into the earth, burying itself several feet down. All about them the jungle was destroyed, leveled by the rancor of the centipede, and a Feral slime coated the trees wherever the creature brushed against them. In a frenzy the warpede struggled to withdraw its head from the earth; Remtall broke from Adacon’s grip and plunged his dagger into a slit between the beast’s armor. Putrid black ooze coursed from the wound; the warpede shot up from the earth with a high-pitched squeal, again facing its attackers. The centipede launched itself high, opened its jaw, and shot down for another strike. Adacon drew his elven sword and shield; Remtall stood with a dagger in one hand and his elf blade in the other.

“Drive home to my spike, foul worm, and be glad I give a better fate than has become you!” screamed Remtall at the armored face of the creature; its body was nearly covered in golden plate mail, so that its skin revealed only at several spots. Its eyes were unguarded, and Remtall angled his blades to pierce the warpede blind.

Unexpectedly, mid-plunge, it swung around its whip-like girth, using itself as a tail, surging forward; from the sides of the warpede’s frame, which erect stood thrice as tall as Adacon, barreled its legs encased in armor, needle sharp: the swipe of its body landed quick, knocking Adacon and Remtall to their feet. The centipede returned its jaw to its fallen victims and lunged again where they lay collapsed.

“Meet the jungle’s own!” Calan shouted. Iirevale launched her atop the back of the warpede; as she landed on it she shoved her sword deep between two pieces of its armor. The warpede loosed a terrible whine and flailed violently, bucking Calan from its back. Remtall regained his feet, followed quickly by Adacon; not a moment was wasted as together they stuck their blades deep into the unarmored belly of the warpede. It screeched again its high-pitched cry, and suddenly the Feral beast went berserk, contorting its worm-body wildly, knocking trees down in every direction. The ancient bark cracked and fell in every direction, and Iirevale jumped, narrowly avoiding heavy debris. Calan rose from where she had fallen, ready to finish the evil beast; the warpede seemed unfazed by its leaking wounds. The warpede tempered its fury to strike at her with its right row of dagger legs; quickly she drew up her shield, just in time, and several of the centipede’s legs bore through the elven wood, scratching her chest. The warpede withdrew its body, dragging Calan’s shield away with it. Defenseless, she jumped behind Adacon where he held his wooden shield high. The warpede rose above them again to glare down before an assault, wiggling its gold-spike feet, dripping the black sludge of its blood upon their heads.

“Stand back!” Remtall cried, stepping in front of them as the warpede shot down, jaw wide. Adacon and Calan fell back at Remtall’s push, and the Gazaran smashed directly on top of Remtall; the tiny gnome vanished from sight.

“No!” shouted Adacon. Iirevale joined them as the warpede lifted itself up, preparing for another attack; to their amazement, Remtall clung to the underbelly of the centipede. It appeared that the tiny gnome had managed to dig both his sword and dagger into the belly of the warpede between armor creases, and slowly the creature drained of its gelatinous blood; underneath, clinging, Remtall became a faucet of pus. Despite its gushing wounds, the warpede showed no signs of relinquishing its life-force; it used the girth of its plated form again, its body acting as a whip, catching everyone with great force, knocking them each to the debris-covered ground in a cloud of dust and leaves.

“I’ll teach you—maggot-fiend—to tread upon my road—demon of the forest—meet the demon of the sea!” Remtall stammered, struggling to cling to the belly of the beast. Quickly he released his right arm, thrusting his dagger again and again into the belly of the warpede, dangling by his elven sword from its underside. The beast rose up on its back legs, high into the treetops, still unhurt from loss of blood. It shook violently as the tiny gnome struggled to stay on, mercilessly piercing its gut over and over, showering the fallen comrades below; finally the monster shook so violently that Remtall was thrown from a height of fifteen yards, crashing to the earth upon a pile of upheaved foliage. Grabbing his head where it throbbed, Remtall tried to open his eyes, half-consciously, but he felt overcome by a grey dimness. Calan, Adacon, and Iirevale did not move from where they lay. The warpede shot down toward its paralyzed victims; it dove at Remtall with all the power it had, intent to destroy the gnome that had stung it so many times.

Remtall surrendered—his body was ravaged; it ached from every pore—he decided that he had produced a valiant fight, one worthy of song. Suddenly a flash of clarity overtook the strengthless gnome—something flashed before his mind’s eye: was it Krem? He remembered the summoning stone; with energy not his own, he reached into his pocket and removed the tiny globe, and unknowing of how to use it, threw it at the warpede blazing down on him: the stone shattered, cracking upon the armor of the warpede. A choking cloud formed instantly, suffocating smoke of red and green that erupted from the stone’s point of impact on the gold armor. Out of the smoke a miraculous apparition overtook Remtall’s eyes, and soon it was no longer an apparition at all but a drake emerging from colored fog: a dragon the size of two grown men. It immediately belted a blue flame in the direction of the warpede, which had recoiled away from the smoke. Shades of green and red smoke were lit blue-white by the power of the drake’s fire, and the warpede began a dreadful hiss.

“Amazing,” Adacon said, awakening to the sight of the drake attacking the gold-armored centipede. Soon Calan and Iirevale were up next to him, and together they rushed to Remtall, well back from the scorching flame. The drake streamed its torrent of blue flame at the centipede; the Feral beast dug its head defensively into the ground to face the brunt of the fire with its armored back. Its gold plating shone red from heat, and then became a blinding white.

“Can we help it?” Adacon shouted amidst the crackling of flame.

“No, keep back,” Calan said, grabbing his shoulder.

The drake appeared in deep control of the battle, and the warpede made one last effort to defend itself, as its blood poured out from every orifice only to crisp into ash: being scorched by its molten armor, the centipede thrashed against several trees, setting them ablaze, trying in vain to break away from the dragon’s assault. The drake finally relented when the warpede writhed no more. Though the smoldering pile of centipede lay unmoving, the drake strode forth and began to gut the inside of the creature with its talons; soon the drake stomped atop the centipede’s armor, crumbling the once brilliant gold metal into piles of grey ash.

“Praise to Krem,” Remtall said, finding new energy to stand on his feet again. The others stared at him in awe as the realization set in that they had, every one of them, somehow survived.

“Praise to Krem, Remtall—but not to you,” Iirevale said in disgust.

“Iirevale—his valor was great,” Calan defended her new friend, as each of them inspected their bodies for wounds.

“If reckless abandon is valor,” Iirevale returned, but then went silent. He left the matter alone, deciding to be grateful that they had lived, and that a path was cleared for the rest of his company. Soon the fires of the nearby trees died out, Adacon guessed as a quality of the mist that hung everywhere, and the half-mangled four tried to clean themselves of the tarrish blood they wore. The drake, having finished its business with the centipede’s carcass, walked slowly over to them. Remtall bowed to it, and the others mimicked him.

“I have never met a drake before,” Calan rejoiced, “We are honored.” To all of their astonishment, the drake responded:

“As am I, to have defended free creatures of Darkin; it was too long that you waited to call me—I had been waiting for you to summon me. I was eager to help,” the drake said, its voice deep and slow.

“You speak!” Adacon said with glee.

“Forgive our looks of bewilderment, friend—we are not accustomed to talking drakes, or summoning stones, for that matter,” Iirevale explained.

“Never mind their poor manners,” Remtall joined, fishing for his pipe. The drake stood back: he was a small dragon, colored bright green, though darker shades trimmed the tips of his scales. In places his scales turned red, and eventually bright red at the end of his tale. His head was similar to the fire wyvern Adacon remembered from the swamp, only much smaller, and more cheerful in color. The drake’s eyes were yellow with black irises, and its nostrils still smoked from battle.

“My name is Falen, and to the enemies of Darkin I am known as
Death Claw
. I am glad to join your war against Vesleathren, even if it means I am a world away from my home.”

“We are heartened to have you with us, Falen,” Iirevale smiled. He kneeled to the drake, who though small for a dragon, still towered over them.

“Truly,” Calan mimicked, kneeling; Adacon knelt after her.

“You weren’t quite necessary—I had already mortally wounded the beast,” Remtall boasted. The exhausted gnome attempted to kneel, but wobbled and fell to the ground.

“Hah! Poor gnome, your burden is great, rest awhile,” Falen replied. The group laughed at Remtall, who lay unmoving, apparently asleep, and then the drake continued to speak: “I think more of your friends approach us—I feel footsteps. Rise, all of you, and tell me your names, for I bow to you as readily as you do for me,” Falen said, bowing, his voice a deep, rich timbre.

“I am Adacon.”

“Calan.”

“And I, Iirevale.”

“And he is Remtall,” Adacon said, smiling toward his sleeping friend.

The troop of elves, led by Gaiberth, filed into the thrashed clearing and took sight of the pile of ash that had been the
Gazaran
. They looked in awe at Falen and the warriors who stood dressed in black gunk. A great commotion spread through the elven rank. Gaiberth silenced his men and walked up to Iirevale and the others.

“How is it that the warpede has been destroyed?” Gaiberth asked.

“Thank Remtall and Falen for it was their valor, without which we would all be dead. The warpede was Feral. It had grown terribly strong,” Iirevale told.

“My thanks then—but who is Falen?” Gaiberth said as he surveyed the sleeping Remtall.

“I, am Falen, good elf of Carbal Jungle,” spoke the fire drake in a deep belly-growl.

“I am pleased to meet you then, Falen, for you are truly a friend to us, to have saved two of ours,” Gaiberth said in thanks. “We are in your debt.”