Darkin: A Journey East (30 page)

“Which is why our march is all the more treacherous and urgent—but you are from Rislind, correct?” Falen asked.

“Yes…” Remtall answered.

“Then surely you recall what Aulterion did to end the Five Country War—he conjured the very blast that formed…” Falen began but was cut off.

“I fought in that war, little dragon! Don’t question my memories.”

“Firsthand, then, you have seen the destructive power Aulterion can muster through black magic. Destroying the Dinbell Wall doesn’t seem impossible for him after all, does it?” There was a silence after Falen’s words, for each of them knew that the Dinbell Wall was the only thing preventing the Feral Brood from pushing directly south on the Enoan road and sacking the whole of Enoa.

“No time to be filled with fear, come and have some stew,” Slowin changed the subject. Remtall and Falen followed the silver golem toward the cauldrons.

“Ah, good Slowin, you still have our best interest at heart,” Remtall said with a wink. Soon they were eating alongside the rest of the group.

Once all of the elves had their fill, as well as their assorted company (a gnome, a man, a drake, and a silver golem), King Terion approached, coming down the great dwarf hall, leading a large company of armored dwarves. The army of dwarves was ten times greater than Gaiberth’s force, and the elves happily welcomed the glistening strength of dwarf-built armor and axes. King Terion stood together with Gaiberth at the head of the unified legion, and Gaiberth deferred to King Terion, and Terion commanded them with orders:

“Good dwarves of Oreine, and mighty warriors of Carbal, you are assembled now to defend your homes against the invading Feral Army, held at bay by the Wall of Dinbell, defended by what’s left of the Erol Drunne militia. It is frightening how fast Vesleathren’s evil has come upon our fair land, and ravished its way south, already taking one of the greatest free cities of the world, Enoa—
but
we go now to turn the tide
, and for the second and final time in Darkin’s history, we shall thwart Vesleathren’s evil! Good citizens of Enoa, this time it is no foreign cause that we go to aid, far across the mighty Kalm—it is our own country that has been invaded—it is our children and families that we go to defend. What gives rise to Vesleathren’s villainy none can guess—I can only do my part to stand against it, and so you can now do yours,” Terion commanded, rallying his forces, and the great army of dwarves and elves roared with the ferocity of an angry mob. “We march north, upon the open road, for all his spies to see—to Dinbell!”

“To Dinbell!” the army echoed Terion, and suddenly the great mass of warriors moved, following Terion and Gaiberth who led them out. Adacon fell in line beside his companions, walking next to Calan. Once again the bright sun of Darkin shone on him, as the great troop left the safety of the Blue-Grey Mountains, weaved its way out of Oreine and onto the Great Plain, heading toward the Enoan Road. Soon they were on the hot granite again, in a tight formation heading north, in sight of the looming Dinbell Wall, several days’ march away.

“So the dwarves alone built Dinbell?” Adacon asked Calan as they marched under the silver-blue sky of cloudless sunshine.

“The dwarves will tell you that they did, but I can assure you it was a great effort of many peoples, including the elves. It is true the dwarves are most skilled at constructing monuments of stone, but it would have been an impossible effort if the great and various races of Enoa hadn’t come together and helped one another,” she answered. 

“How old is it?” Adacon asked.

“The Dinbell has only stood since the Five Country War, and it was built in defense of the Feral Army in that time. Thankfully, it had never been needed, as Vesleathren only assaulted Arkenshyr and the eastern lands, but at the time no one was certain if his troll army would reach our northern shores,” she explained.

“Amazing—the world is so rich with stories and places, and I had never before seen more than a single farm’s worth of it. I see how beautiful everything is, and I am filled more than ever with a passion to fight, and defend what I can now call my home,” Adacon said.

“And where would you call home?” Calan asked.

“Darkin, of course…” Adacon said.

“What I meant was, once this is all over, where will you go home to?” she prodded. Adacon looked around himself and seemed to be lost in thought at her question. He looked to his left and saw the dark green edge of the Carbal jungle, the beginnings of the Teeth Cliffs; he looked to his right, and saw the sunlit Blue-Grey Mountains, home of the curious Oreinen. He looked behind, and between rows of marching elves he saw the Great Plain stretch on and on until the mountains merged with the forest. Then he turned to look straight ahead, a granite strip running to the end of the Great Plain, where it met the towering stone-built Wall of Dinbell.

“I don’t know…” Adacon finally admitted.

“I also don’t know,” she said. “My home is no more, my loved ones...”

“I am sorry for,” Adacon began, but she interrupted him.

“It’s alright, I’ve mourned for those Aulterion destroyed, but I know Gaigas keeps them yet, in her great spirit, and that I shall meet them again someday,” she said, concealing her weeping.

“Maybe, if it’s not against elven law or custom, we could find a new home together, and live together in peace and happiness,” Adacon said. Calan smiled, wiping tears from her face.

“That would be my happiest ending to this, Adacon,” she cried, and threw herself under his arm.

“Then you must promise me to stay well away from combat,” Adacon said.

“You know I cannot do that,” she answered, and Adacon understood, and he said no more—only did he hold her for a while longer as they marched north.

Two days of uneventful marching passed by, and when the times had come to do so, Terion called for the army to stop, eat, and camp for the night upon the open road. He constantly appointed sentries to protect from any possibility of a surprise attack, and the elves were used to scout farthest ahead, greatly outpacing the sturdier dwarves. Adacon noticed that Falen and Slowin had become fast friends, and Remtall had clung to them, regaling them with boastful stories whenever he found an opportunity to cut into their conversations. Even Ulpo had joined their little unit, and Remtall found that Ulpo shared his love of tobacco and liquor, and they began to get along elegantly—especially since having Ulpo around doubled Remtall’s store of liquor. Adacon kept mostly with Calan throughout the days of marching, but occasionally he would fall back to talk with Slowin, asking questions whenever he had the chance. Mainly they had talked about the history of Darkin, as most of it was new to Adacon, and when they weren’t discussing geography or history, talk would turn to how to properly fight the Feral trolls. Falen had been a veteran of the Five Country War, as had Remtall, so they each shared with Adacon what wisdom they had on how to fight the Feral Brood, knowing it would be useful when the time arrived.

By the third night, the Dinbell had grown much larger before them. The army of Oreine and Carbal drew near to the foundation of the wall itself, and Terion called a halt to a long day’s march. The legion set about making camp for the night. It was as Adacon sat to have his dinner that he began to hear an odd, low-pitched humming noise.

“Do you hear that sound?” he asked Slowin, who sat nearby.

“Hmm,” Slowin replied. He stopped eating to listen intently. “Just barely, though I cannot say what it is,” Slowin said, unalarmed.

“Strange—I think I’ll ask King Terion,” Adacon said. He jumped up from his broth near the fire and walked through the sitting company of warriors toward the front of the army. Terion was sitting with Gaiberth, Iirevale and Merol.

“Greetings, freed slave. Adacon, isn’t it?” Terion asked.

“Yes, King Terion. I am sorry to interrupt—but the noise I hear worries me…” Adacon said, voicing his concern.

“That low-pitched humming?” Iirevale asked.

“Exactly that! What is it?” Adacon asked.

“Pay it no mind! Pay it no mind…” Merol suddenly interjected.

“I had just noticed it a moment ago myself, dear Adacon,” Terion commented.

“It is odd, and I have never heard such a noise before, not in all my life,” Gaiberth expressed.

“I said pay it no mind—it’s just the tremor of battle, coming through the ground underneath the Dinbell,” Merol said.

“Is the battle raging now?” Adacon asked.

“Indeed—as the Feral Army comes against the wall, they are forced to divert their path west or east against its face—either up the Teeth Cliffs they must go, and meet the ambush of scattered militia, or down into the narrow valley of the Blue-Grey Mountains, where the last of the divided Erol Drunne force awaits them. You see, the wall funnels their evil numbers into the two tiny passages, and they can but trickle onward—that is why the last of the Erol Drunne militia still hangs on at all… though I fear we cannot count on that to continue much longer,” Terion explained.

“So the wall scatters their army?” Adacon asked.

“It does, and though the Feral Army marches into the traps of our land, they are numberless, and the Erol Drunne militia will not last without our assistance. Tomorrow we march west, up the Teeth Cliffs, to its highest ridge, where we will join their force,” Terion informed him.

“So I can ignore the noise then—it just sounds so unnatural,” Adacon said, remembering his original concern.

“Pay it no mind!” stormed Merol, losing his temper. Suddenly, Terion turned and slapped Merol across his face.

“Mind your tongue in the company of your king, Merol,” Terion scolded. Merol rose up and sulked away into the night, rubbing his cheek as he went.

“I am sorry. Merol has been in terrible spirits lately, all this has been very difficult for him—you see his family disappeared several weeks ago,” Terion told.

“I am sorry to hear,” Adacon replied.

“And still more strain comes to him, as he is the only Vapour of the Oreinen,” informed Terion.

“He’s a Vapour like Krem?” Adacon asked. Suddenly, Gaiberth, Iirevale, and the king broke into laughter.

“I wouldn’t compare him to Krem, but yes, he channels magic for good intentions, and so he is a Vapour,” Terion explained.

“Alright, I guess I should trust his wisdom about the noise then,” Adacon said, trailing off with a noticeable trace of doubt.

“Trust
me
, if not him, Adacon. Go to rest, for I will keep our men here only as long as I deem it completely safe to do so. I’ll see you in the morning when we travel west, up the Teeth Cliffs, and into battle together,” Terion smiled.

“Good night,” Adacon replied, and he turned to retrace his steps toward Slowin and his cooling broth.

*               *          *

The night wore on, and no one stayed up very late, as the coming day brought with it the first sure chance of combat. Adacon slept by Calan’s side, and before long Falen was standing over them, blowing steam at them from his nostrils.

“Time to get up, young lovers. Today we restore the peace,” Falen roared at them.

“Falen… ugh, you don’t have to be so loud,” Adacon moaned. Calan and he stood up, stretching under the freshly risen sun.

“The gnome put me up to it. Said if I startled you, he’d show me the secret entrance to Palailia,” Falen admitted.

“Joke’s on you, dear drake!” Remtall laughed from afar, and he proceeded to tell Falen that he truly knew nothing of any secret entrance to Palailia.

“I’ll show you whom the joke’s on,” Falen playfully returned, and Falen blew a great gust of wind at Remtall. The gnome was tossed through air for a second before tumbling into some nearby elves.

“Egh, sorry about that—pay me no mind,” Remtall apologized to the elves he’d bowled over. He brushed himself off and walked away, though the elves didn’t seem to reciprocate the humor, and they scowled at the unkempt gnome as he went.

“The noise—it’s grown louder,” Adacon immediately noticed as he became fully awake.

“There’s more to worry about right now than a noise, Adacon,” Slowin reminded him, and Adacon tried to take his mind off the humming sound. They ate a brief breakfast then broke camp to assemble before Terion and Gaiberth once more. This time Gaiberth spoke to them in the early morning sun:

“Our scouts have given us word that the Erol Drunne militia is almost defeated. They await our numbers in the hope of renewing the fight. They tell us that they have seen no end to the line of trolls, or Gazaran—that just as each new band is destroyed, one from behind replaces it,” Gaiberth relayed.

“Gaiberth means not to frighten you—he means only to prepare you for the truth of this war,” Terion interjected. “Many of us will never return to our beloved city of Oreine after this war is ended—yet if we choose not to fight, there will be no such home to speak of.”

To Adacon’s surprise, the army cheered fearlessly in response to the grim news.

“Has anyone seen Merol? He did not return last night after receiving—discipline,” the king asked while he still had everyone’s attention. The whole troop silenced, looking at one another, murmuring. Many shrugged their shoulders, but none knew the whereabouts of Merol.

“It is no matter then. We march now to the Teeth Cliffs, with or without him,” said Terion. He led the army up a trail that ran between the edge of the Carbal Jungle and the start of the Teeth Cliffs. At that moment, Adacon realized that the humming he had been ignoring had grown louder; the volume of the sound grew sharply, peaking in a painful cracking noise. Panicked, the entire troop covered their ears. Adacon looked up in the direction from which the cracking had sounded: to his horror, a gigantic portion of stone near the top of the Dinbell Wall was shattering. Dark lines zigzagged across the grey rock, spreading out like a spider-web. A piece came free, toppled off, rotating through the air down to where they stood.

“Run!” shouted Adacon as the first boulder landed with a thunderous tremor directly behind King Terion, who narrowly escaped being crushed to death.

“At a sprint men—sprint!” shouted the king. The whole company began running from the crumbling wall, scrambling toward the steep trail that led to the Teeth Cliffs. Many in the party panicked as they fled underneath the stone rain, and the once uniform line of the troop fragmented.