Darkin: The Prophecy of the Key (The Darkin Saga Book 2) by Joseph Turkot Page A

Remtall spat, angered and defeated.
    “Parasink—is he the necromancer of legend?” Ulpo asked, ignoring Remtall’s disgust.
    “Parasink was once a good Vapour, but not blessed with extraordinary ability. He served the order of peace during the Felwith Age, under the lordship of King Felwith,” explained the glowing man. “It is said that Parasink heard of a great artifact of power and sought it out, so as to become more than a subservient pawn of the king.”
    “The Rod of the Gorge,” Remtall cried.
    “Precisely that—so when the gnomes discovered the Rod deep within their mines, Parasink journeyed on a diplomatic mission to Palailia where he gained favor with its people. He promised aid for the war that was fast brewing upon the East Continent, claiming he knew the war would soon come to Aaurlind.”
    “You mean the Five Country War?” Ulpo asked.
    “Yes. And so after entering the good graces of the gnomes here, but harboring a greed for power in his heart, Parasink took from them the Rod, and began to use it for his own purposes—proclaiming himself King of Palailia. He forsook his former King, and became a recluse from the affairs of the East Continent and its war.”
    “What scum! I’d heard such a story—about a deserter just before the war. It was news up from the southern shores, but I was just a young lad then, and I didn’t serve in the war until many years later, had I known—” said Remtall.
    “Do not fret. I think you understand the rest of the story. He’s used the Rod to enchant the spirits of those who die; he enslaves them, forcing them to dig deeper and deeper, hoping he will find more treasures in those vacant mines—but he will not, there is nothing left there. He prattles of an endless need for power and wealth, but he is a common hate monger, no better than Grelion, who turned on his people just the same.”
    “But how does he trap spirits?” Ulpo asked.
    “Did you know that when someone dies, they leave this plane of existence, and return to the energy of Gaigas?”
    “Yes.”
    “With that Rod, a conduit of magical energy, he has discovered a way to halt the transition, so that a spirit does not go back to the planet, but stays confined in its body, devoid of true death.”
    “And that’s what happened to you?” Remtall asked sympathetically.
    “Yes, and I am tired. For each year since my death I have mined, deeper and deeper, alongside countless others. I did not feel pain, nor aches—only an endless cycle of sameness, day after day, driving me mad. I wished only to die a true death. So now that I’ve finally escaped, I go to find a way.”
    “A way to die?”
    “Yes.”
    “How did you escape? Why didn’t you go sooner?”
    “The magic that binds me to this plane, your plane of existence, grew suddenly weaker, only for a short hour, two days ago. I cannot explain it, but I became entirely without a body. And so I slipped out, unseen by anyone, and only upon breaking into the forest did I flicker back into existence in this physical realm.”
    “And no others came with you?”
    “No others that I know were unbound such as I was—for a sweet moment I felt as though I had died, but my misery returned when I found myself free—still enslaved as much as ever to this plane.”
    “What is your name? I am Ulpo of Oreine—and this is good Remtall Olter’Fane, Captain of the Gnomen Fleet.”
    “Call me Behlas—I think that is what I was once called.”
    “Well Behlas, I am sorry we can’t do anything for you, and I’m thankful you’ve saved our lives, but we must be going,” Remtall muttered, and he walked off.
    “With no light?” asked Behlas. Ulpo stood confused, watching his companion lurk off into the dark pines.
    “Never mind a gnome’s night vision,” replied Remtall, and he continued into the dark. “Come Ulpo.”
    “But don’t you think—” stuttered Ulpo.
    “What? We know now that we’ve passed the entrance to the mines, and we have no