Free Darkin: A Journey East by Joseph A. Turkot

us so?” asked Erguile.
    “Remember: it has not always been this way, and at one time every creature lived in harmony with Gaigas. We are all formed of the same root, the same love. This age of darkness can be blamed on several; but it is mostly Grelion’s fault, his lust for power. He is human himself, and despises all creatures who are not—he has defiled the valor of men. Grelion is responsible for the burning of the non-humans in this country, and for the intolerance of Vapoury, Gaigas, freedom, and any open knowledge of these things. However—we can take comfort in knowing he has not entirely destroyed these things, though he has dulled Gaigas’s presence in almost all hearts,” Krem spoke.
    “How is it that you have lived safely for so long in this desert stronghold? Surely you must be the kind of man he hates most,” asked Adacon.
    “Yes—I am of the mold that Grelion hates; he hates anything loving. But recall I am a Vapour, and in that right I still have the power to ask Gaigas to conceal me from all things with evil eyes. That is why I was overjoyed at your arrival, Adacon, for it had been nigh a century since anyone could see my home’s door and windows. Should you have had any evil in your spirit, even a mere drop, the whole place would have looked to you no different than any other sand dune.” Adacon sat absorbing all Krem had said, as did Erguile. There was more silence as the three puffed on their pipes.
    “Alas it is time for a change in plans: I oppose the idea you suggested, dear Adacon. A journey east is not suitable for our company of three, such as it is. I know much of this fair country, especially the area surrounding the Solun Desert, and I hear many things. It is no coincidence that a most powerful rumor came to me from a winged friend the night before your arrival, Adacon. It is to go north, that I propose—out of this desert to reach the Vashnod Plains. It is on those plains that there lie two stone towers, prisons of Grelion. Rarely is there more than a handful of guards at each, I have noticed of late; and under cover of night I would have us assail one of the towers. Gaining that prison would strengthen our force a great deal, if the rumors hold true; an old friend of mine is being held there. His rightful name is Flaer Ironhand, and Grelion still knows not who he has captured—for if he did the tower would be guarded one hundred times stronger. If we can have this prisoner alone join us, we will be many times more powerful than as three,” Krem said.
    “Sounds like a plan to me, eh Addy ol’ lad?” joked Erguile, tipsy with wine.
    “Alright. We’ll do that then, Krem. I trust you have a mind well enough for getting this rebellion off its feet anyhow. How do you think we should go about this attack?” asked Adacon.
     
    And with that question, Krem began to lay out his plan, and it sounded well thought out to Adacon and Erguile, as if he had been contemplating the strike for some time. After a good while they finished outlining the plan, and Adacon and Erguile grew tired.
    “The night grows old on us; it is now time to get some needed rest before our departure tomorrow. Tomorrow afternoon I will fill your bags appropriately, with enough stores to last us a good few weeks. Come—let us turn now to our dreams for restoration. I’ll show you to your beds,” Krem ordered as he stood up and extinguished his pipe. He walked out of the room, beckoning them to follow. Adacon and Erguile extinguished their pipes and stood up to follow. Krem led them through several intertwining passages and they reached first a luxurious room for Erguile, who said good night to both of them and went to his bed. Krem continued on, leading Adacon a little way farther to his room. Adacon reached a room, just as fantastic as Erguile’s had been, and said good night to Krem, thanking him again for dinner. Krem turned and started to walk out, leaving Adacon to his peace.
    “Wait, Krem…”