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

the elves had told him little of the forbidding ice country—only lore of its dormant monsters, lying in wait beneath razor-crystal snow, appearing as if mountains. Adacon didn’t quite like the kind of stories he began to hear, so he’d stopped asking altogether.
    The night left several dwellers around a large bonfire in the middle of Rainside Run, all relaxing to soft music that cascaded skyward from two elf players who perched on low hanging branches nearby. There wasn’t much talk, and all was dark in the late hours of the eve, save for the sparse illumination provided by the amber torches that dotted the walkways. The fire dwellers didn’t take notice as Calan and Adacon slipped past. Adacon watched in wonderment as the thick drops of mist evaporated constantly above the great fire, sparkling rosy orange before their death, only to reform again seconds later. It was a great spectacle he hadn’t been able to get enough of in his time there. Calan tugged his shirt as he lagged behind staring.
    “Come on. This is no short trek,” Calan said, pulling him.
    “Where are we going?”
    “That’s for you to discover once you start moving!”
    Together they jogged toward the edge of the village, passing the last tree houses of Rainside Run. Adacon couldn’t see very well through the darkness, as the canopy blocked out most of the starlight, but he quickly withdrew a tiny orb from his pocket.
    “I must ask Slowin where he found that,” Calan remarked. Adacon held up the iridescent orb and a bright glow illuminated the foliage surrounding them. In a moment, the path was lit up as if  midday.
    “I wouldn’t mind getting you one of these, if there’s more. But Slowin’s peculiar—I don’t know if he’d even let on about where he got it from.”
    “I’ve been waiting to show you this,” she said, bounding ahead. Adacon tried his best to keep up, but soon she disappeared from sight. He ran along the jungle path, covered by dense jungle vine and low-lying shrubs. The jungle had come alive since leaving Rainside Run—hooting calls echoed from behind him, and shrieking birds seemed to sing out randomly from every direction.
    “Calan?” Adacon called, wondering in which direction she had run.
    “This way!” came her voice to his left.
    He looked ahead to see a small clearing that led to a tiny path through an outcropping of rose-colored bushes. He rushed through them, barreling toward her voice. To his shock, the path ended; it came to a wide thatch of ivy, tall and directly at the end of the trail. The ivy and bramble wall left no other path; he would have to turn back. Only a tiny sliver of black broke the uniformity of the vine wall, and he wondered if a person could slip into it.
    “Are you in there?”
    “Come on, you’re too slow!”
    Adacon ducked, and then waddled, barely fitting through the opening. Inside, he refocused the Orb of Light so that it concentrated directly in front of him. Standing up, he peered down a tight spiral staircase, elegantly carved from wood; this must be a giant tree, he thought. He breathed in the deep moist scent of decomposition. Touching the walls, Adacon felt the wood to be soft and moldy, and at spots he saw slime dripping. Slowly, he made his way down the stairs, feeling them depress a little with each step, his feet sinking into the pliable wood. There were matted cobwebs underneath the stairs he’d descended past, and looking up, he could see odd creatures sleeping as well—Adacon couldn’t make out what they were, but he decided it would be best to leave the furry dwellers alone.
    After over twelve trips around the circle and down the trunk, Adacon noticed a change in odor: suddenly, the great decaying trunk smelled instead like fresh living wood, and the cobwebs disappeared. Adacon descended faster, hoping she was ahead of him, and that he hadn’t been left alone inside some forsaken hole.
    The mold and slime disappeared, and in their place were sets of softly