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

I was in Silverwater, after the fight with the Mad Raven. Ulam winced, remembering how painful that had been for Amantius. And the world…became full of color. Yes! I was in a forest, no, a field, with tall grass. And…and…what else?

Though it was minimal, it was a start. But Mazargo made no mention of color, aside from the same ribbons of light I saw. Perhaps he does not remember either? Or maybe he had not reached as far as I had?

A loud clicking noise took Ulam out of his thoughts, followed by the sounds of grating stone. Suddenly the door opened, revealing a moonlit chamber. Ulam and Mazargo both stood, the latter grabbing a torch from a sconce while Ulam snuffed out the embers in the pipe. After the last trail of smoke disappeared, he returned the walnut pipe to a pouch in his backpack and then drew his enchanted axe, prepared for whatever awaited him.

“Are you ready?” Mazargo asked.

Ulam grunted.

Together they entered the dark chamber, the flames from Mazargo’s torch instantly dying from a sudden burst of wind, leaving the pungent smell of smoke hanging in the air. To their left was an open balcony, from which ample moonlight poured into the chamber. Dozens of anonymous shapes filled the room, their shadows quietly stretching across the floor. To their right was utter darkness, unpenetrated by the rays of silver light coming from outside. Though he could see nothing, Ulam stared in that direction, expecting something to appear.

Then from across the room came a noise, a click amplified by the silence, followed by the sound of stone rasping on stone. Torchlight flooded into the room as a new door opened, the entrance filled with two silhouettes, one slightly shorter than the other. Like ghosts, the shapes entered the chambers, quickly swallowed by the darkness. Ulam’s heart thundered in his chest while his forehead grew moist with sweat. Unknowingly he wrapped his fingers around the handle of his axe, the familiarity of the grip reinforcing his courage. Beside him he felt Mazargo stiffen as well, preparing for whatever may come.

“What the hell is this place?”

Ulam instantly recognized the voice, perhaps the only voice in the entire world he knew better than his own. “Well met, Brother.”

Someone shouted a couple of curses in the dark, accompanied by the sound of ceramic breaking. Ulam lowered his axe and smiled, relieved to have found Amantius and Kona at what he presumed was the top of Kuruk’s Tower. But there had been no reply from the other side of the room, only incoherent whispers in the dark. As Ulam waited he started to worry that perhaps Amantius and Kona were not in the room, that this was some trick orchestrated by the tower’s dark magic instead. To his left he saw Mazargo standing perfectly still, the mage also not entirely convinced.

“Amantius, is that you?” Ulam called out again.

“Yeah, it’s me,” the same voice replied, “but how do I know you’re actually Ulam? How can you prove to me that you are my brother and not another apparition designed to drive me mad?”

“Remember the time we…”

“That won’t work,” Amantius interrupted, “the magic in this place accesses my memories somehow. It has to be something more recent, something that has changed since the last time I saw you.”

What has changed, though? Ulam thought. There were memories he had that Amantius did not, but there was no chance that would work. Nor had he collected any items in the multitude of rooms, items he could use as proof. To the best of his knowledge, there was nothing he could do to convince Amantius that he was, in fact, Ulam. His foster-brother would just have to trust him blindly, something which did not seem possible considering the amount of suspicion already cast on this meeting.

“Mazargo has proof,” Mazargo said, straightening his back. “If you see, you will believe.”

“Oh? Do you?” Amantius sounded hesitant still.

“Yes, come into the moonlight and he will show you.”

Ulam felt Mazargo leave his side en route to the balcony, as well as Amantius pass by seconds later, his foster-brother unaware that he was standing only steps away. After they both stepped onto the balcony Mazargo held out an arm, which Amantius examined thoroughly, the words they exchanged lost in the darkness. A few moments later Amantius nodded and turned towards the chamber, a smile on his face.

“Glad to see you’re still alive, you ugly Orc.”

Suddenly every torch in the chamber lit simultaneously, basking the entire room in a red and yellow glow. The swift burst of light burned everyone’s eyes until they were able to adjust to the brightness. When Ulam was finally able to open both eyes fully he looked around the room, noticing they were in a chamber filled with ceramic urns as large as himself, each filled with various substances. But that was not the only thing he saw, he also noted someone in their foursome was missing.

“Where is Kona?”

“I’m here,” Kona replied as she emerged from behind him, returning a dagger to its concealed home. From her expression, she had been prepared to pounce if need be. “No hard feelings; we had to be sure it was actually you. The things we have seen have left us both skeptical.”

Ulam grunted. He was already suspicious of Kona, more specifically her motives and possible role in their abduction. Though he understood her hesitation, the fact that she was poised to strike him with a dagger did nothing to ease those worries.

“How did you know they weren’t illusions, though?” Kona continued as she crossed the room and stepped onto the balcony, standing beside Amantius.

“Because,” Amantius grabbed one of Mazargo’s sleeves, “this wasn’t burned when we last saw them, and now it is. Thank the Gods he was clever enough to think of showing me his arm, otherwise, the four of us might be at each other’s throats right now.”

“Smart,” Ulam grumbled as he