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The Elder’s Curse

Andrew Walbrown

Copyright © 2021 Andrew Walbrown. All rights reserved.

Published by Oldtown Creek Press

Say hi to Andrew on Twitter


No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including internet usage, without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First Edition

First Published 2021

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is completely coincidental.

Cover and Map Designs by Cristina Tănase

Library of Congress Control Number:




In Memory of Little MM

And Her Angelic Voice


Primary Characters:

Ulam: OO-lum

Amantius Jeranus: Uh-MAN-tee-us Jur-ANN-us

Nilawen: NEE-la-when

Kona: KOH-nuh

Mazargo: Muh-ZAHR-go

Secondary Characters:

Rasmus: RAZ-mus

Durkan: Dur-CAN

Myria: MEE-ree-ya

Fervalor: Fur-VA-lore

Remo: REE-mo

Bati: BAH-tee

Buri: BURR-ee

Donnello: Doh-NELL-o

Tomo: TOH-moh

Mezi: MEH-zee

Seto: SAY-toh

Zhalmi: ZHALL-mee

Ushokku: Oo-SHAW-koo

Chulzi: CHUHL-zee

Kuruk: KOO-ruck

Mulni: MUHL-nee

Raharz: Ruh-HARZ

Other Characters:

Aldamar: ALL-da-mar

Morganna: Mor-GONE-uh

Pelecia: Peh-LEE-see-uh

Elatos: Ee-LAY-tohs

Varian: Vare-EE-un

Issa: EE-sa

Zeno: ZEE-noh

Malzara: Mal-ZAHR-uh


Echona: Eh-KOH-nuh

Accaria/Accarian: Uh-CARE-ee-uh / Uh-CARE-ee-uhn

Wrothvar: ROTH-var

Mograth: MOG-wrath

Syrenshara: Sy-ren-SHAR-uh

Meganthus: Meh-GAN-thus

Alakuum: Al-ah-KOOM

Yawan: Yuh-WON

Rashi: Ruh-SHE

Ummdani: Oom-DON-ee

Qerus: CARE-us

Deities and Races:

Emberi: Em-BEER-ee

Kevea: Ke-VEY-uh

Kalikki: Kah-LEE-kee

Nogoon: No-GOON

Eemoneem: EE-mo-neem

Kolossi: Kuh-LOSS-eye

Mwai: Mwhy

Ommera: Oh-MARE-uh


My name is Rasmus. I am an apprentice mage at the Academy of Echona, my tutelage under the direct supervision of Archmage Ambrose himself. As part of my training, I have been tasked with reviewing long-forgotten documents regarding the magical history of our world and destroying anything I deem irrelevant. Though, to my eternal shame, I have abandoned this mission, because something greater has captured my attention. With me I have an incomplete set of books that I discovered buried deep within the Academy’s library, old and bound with leather. They were not decorated in any way; the pages yellowed with age, the language an ancestor of our own. Though the series has no official name, I have titled the books The Accarian Chronicles, named after Accaria, the perhaps mythical homeland of the protagonists. While at the Academy I discovered two of the first five books of the series, the location of the third and fourth volumes still a mystery to me. My desire to find these missing volumes propelled me to visit Silverwater’s Great Library, the largest of its kind in the world. Here I have been assisted by the head librarian, a quiet fellow who has dedicated his life to the pursuit of knowledge and the arts. When I am not scouring the endless shelves of the library, I am working tirelessly to translate the second volume, named The Elder’s Curse by its author. My hope is, by the end of this book, I will know whether or not this series is based on truth or fiction.

Admittedly, that is one of my biggest questions, which undoubtedly drives my desire to locate all the volumes. Through my studies and travels I have learned certain events from the first volume, The Mad Raven’s Tale, had indeed taken place eons ago. I know Count Aldamar, who was revealed at the end to be a vampire, had been a real historical figure who had ruled Silverwater for centuries. Local folklore also claims there was once a legendary monster that was part bird and part woman that terrorized this land in ancient times, though no solid evidence exists to support these claims. In some versions of the story she even used dark magic to weaken the sun’s rays, bringing upon Silverwater a deadly winter of near-apocalyptic proportions. While I highly doubt sorcery played a prominent role in that year’s weather, it may be the only explanation for such a drastic change. After all, this is a land that has never known the icy grip of winter, and until some scientific method or magical device can prove otherwise, my mind will remain unchanged.

As for this second volume in the series, almost three years have passed since the concluding events of The Mad Raven’s Tale. In this next book, our two protagonists begin in a place known as Thornsgrave, an up-and-coming city nestled in the western foothills of the ancient Emberi Empire. Unlike Accaria, I am not only aware of Thornsgrave’s existence, but I have been there a few times in my life as well. Perhaps I shall travel there if I am unable to locate any other volumes, though I pray that such a journey is not in my future. Traveling to Silverwater via train was simple enough, but the rugged hill country will be none too accommodating for a bookworm apprentice mage such as myself.

Although I continue my search for the missing tomes, I am pleased to inform you, Dear Reader, that I have translated and transcribed the following text in its entirety. And with that, I, Rasmus of Hollowcross, present the second volume of The Accarian Chronicles:The Elder’s Curse.

Chapter 1


Ulam sat quietly in the only dark corner of the Sunrise Tavern, staring through the afternoon rays of sunlight pouring through the windows. The twin doors facing the street were propped open, allowing the summer breeze to sweep into the room. When Ulam had arrived that morning no other patrons had been there, his hulking presence at opening enough to jar the frightened staff fully awake. After paying for a few ales Ulam had retreated to the corner where he currently sat, watching as more and more people filtered into the establishment throughout the day. Though many whispers were spoken about him, no one dared approach the big Orc. At least, no one other than Amantius.

“You’re not going to make any friends skulking in the shadows,” Amantius said with a smile as he handed his foster-brother a new mug of beer.

Ulam grunted. “I am not here to make friends. I am here to drink.”

Amantius shrugged. “At least we can agree on that. Cheers.”

As they enjoyed their ales they watched a half dozen gambling bouts: men and women throwing dice at some tables, others playing cards. Ulam was also searching the tavern for weapons, a habit he developed while

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