The Elder's Curse Andrew Walbrown (red scrolls of magic .TXT) 📖

all with yellow-scales and spikes running the length of their spines. Together the three newcomers approached the reeling whelps, barking at them in a series of squawks and growls. While this happened the fourth dragon approached Ulam, the ground trembling with every step it took.

When the dragon was no more than five steps away it stopped and sat on its hind legs, towering over Ulam. It was more than twice as tall as him, with a massive wingspan and a long, winding tail. Being so close to him, Ulam could hear the rumbling deep within the dragon’s chest, the blaze stored there like a dormant volcano aching to erupt. As he watched the ebb and flow in the dragon’s chest, the memories of being bitten by hungry flames in Silverwater flooded his mind, the trauma from that day rapidly undermining his courage. But despite his weakening resolve, Ulam continued to remain steadfast, focusing less on the possibility of being roasted alive and more on protecting a defenseless Nilawen.

“I cannot tell if you are brave, or if you are stupid,” the dragon’s voice was deep, the words vibrating the walls of the cave. It spoke slowly but clearly, like someone speaking a foreign tongue and unsure if they are using the correct words. “Those who enter a dragon’s lair do not fight, they all attempt to flee.”

Ulam grunted. A talking dragon did not surprise him, he had actually expected it. After all, he had been part of a play with a talking dragon only a few months prior. If anything, he wondered who taught this dragon the same language he spoke.

“I apologize for my children,” the dragon continued, its tail curling around its body. “They are undisciplined. If you want your possessions, you can get them now. No one will stop you.”

Ulam hesitated, not sure if he should believe her. The whelps looked to be corralled, the other dragons confining them in their roost, all watching the exchange unfold in the center of the den. While keeping an eye on the closest dragon Ulam began shuffling towards the pile of backpacks and supplies, being careful not to lose eye contact. He kept his axe in hand as he crossed the room, but deep down he was not sure if he could do any damage to a dragon; their scales appeared thicker than any armor he had ever seen.

“Toss them to me,” Amantius called as he hobbled over, one eye on the nearest dragon. He shrugged. “I know what you’re thinking, but if they wanted us dead, we would be.”

Ulam grunted. Or they are toying with us. Either way, we do not have a choice. He grabbed the first bag, one of Kona’s, and slung it across the floor. He continued to do this until Amantius had all the bags, shuttling them to where Nilawen still lay unconscious. Kona remained beside her, gently stroking her hair as Amantius searched for clean cloth. When he found the right fabric he fashioned it into a fresh bandage, which Kona applied to Nilawen’s head after she cleaned the wound.

“The cut has stopped bleeding but she has a fever now,” Kona said with a concerned frown. “And I don’t have any herbs to help.”

“What do you need?” Amantius asked.

“Buckthorn. It grows along the coast, but we are so far away from the coast now, not to mention we’re in a dragon’s lair.”

“I can help,” one of the dragons said as it stepped forward. It was the one that had carried Nilawen and Ulam, distinguishable by being the smallest of the adults in the room. “I can carry you to the sea.”

“You will do no such thing, Zhalmi. We must wait for the Matriarch,” the other dragon said before turning back to Ulam. “You must excuse my younger sister, sometimes she forgets her place.”

Zhalmi retreated, outranked by her older sibling. So these dragons are one big family, Ulam thought, they must not be very old, though it appears they have litters of their own now. But why have they brought us here, if not to eat us?

“Do you know when she is coming?” Amantius yelled. “We don’t exactly have a lot of time!

“Amantius!” Ulam growled. “Be calm, we are not in control here.”

“The Matriarch will come when she wishes,” the eldest sister continued. She sniffed the air and then sprawled on the ground, satisfied with what her nose gathered. “She is coming, though; I can smell her scent. You will want to move out of her way, otherwise, she will crush you when she lands.”

“Come on, give me a hand,” Kona said to Ulam and Amantius. “We need to move her.”

They gently moved Nilawen to the side, finding a flat piece of ground to rest her body. By using an assortment of blankets, they created a makeshift bed for her while swapping the saddlebag for a real pillow. Kona continued attending to Nilawen, her back to the dragons, while Amantius rested against a wall. Ulam stood over them, forever watching the statuesque dragons in the lair, with his axe still in hand.

“Show me your leg,” Kona said to Amantius, gasping as he rolled up his pants to reveal swelling and dried blood in his leg hair. “That’s not good.”

“I’ve had worse,” Amantius replied nonchalantly. He grimaced as she applied gauze to the cuts. “I sprained both ankles jumping off a cliff when I was a kid. Ulam had to carry me home; I didn’t walk for a month.”

Ulam chuckled at the memory, the laughter sounding foreign in such a place. “Mother was so angry.”

“Why did you jump off a cliff?”

“Because I wanted to know if I could fly, of course,” Amantius replied. “I can’t.”

Kona rolled her eyes, then turned to an unconscious Nilawen. “Why are boys so dumb?”

Ulam and Amantius laughed, though their amusement was cut short when a roar sounded from somewhere outside the cave. The whelps in the corner started chirping in anticipation, excited by the calls filling the sky. The nearest dragoness stood