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

darkness once again filling the caves. “The powerstone has its hooks in him like it had Kuruk. I feared this may happen. ”

“I do not care about the stone,” Ulam said, feeling the Matriarch’s tail press harder against his abdomen. “I just need it to talk to him.”

“Him?” Amantius’ voice repeated. “Who?”

“The wizard that lowered you from the ceiling.” Being in utter darkness and unable to see the reactions on people’s faces made confessing easier for Ulam; he felt like he was talking to no one. “He also told me he was an Orc, and he lived in Wrothvar with all the other Orcs. He was about to give me exact directions when the staff was cut in two. Amantius, at last, I have found my home.”

There was a long pause in the conversation, only the sounds of multiple sets of breathing could be heard in the cavern. Eventually, Ulam stopped squirming, realizing there was no way he was going to be able to slip through the Matriarch’s grasp. Instead, he decided to wait, hoping he or someone else could negotiate his release.

“But Accaria is your home,” Amantius finally said, his tone so somber and heartbreaking that Ulam felt the sharp blade of guilt pierce his heart. “It is our home. Isn’t it?”

The silence returned, though this time it was deafening. In some ways Amantius was correct, Accaria would always be Ulam’s home, but the island kingdom could never be his true homeland. He was an Orc, and everyone around him had been Accarians, even his foster-brother and mother. Though the island denizens never treated him poorly, he was treated differently, as though he was not one of them. Ulam believed the only way he could have ever called Accaria his homeland, or have ever been considered a true Accarian, is if everyone on the island suddenly disappeared and he was left to be King of Nothing.

“What should I do with him?” The Matriarch asked.

“Let him go,” Mazargo’s voice joined the conversation. “Mazargo trusts Ulam will not attack him again.”

“Is that wise?” Nilawen asked. “If the stone still has control of…”

“He will not attack Mazargo again,” the mage repeated with authority. “Mazargo has faith in him.”

“Very well, but if he does I will be forced to take drastic action as I did with Kuruk.” The Matriarch threatened.

Ulam shivered at the notion of being burned alive by the same flames that scarred the face of Kuruk’s Tower, imagining a hellfire so intense that his skin would melt into a black and green puddle of carnage. To him there was no death more terrifying than being incinerated by a dragon; the mere thought scared him so much that for a moment he was thankful he was held off the ground by the Matriarch’s tail because there was no way he would be able to stand under his own accord.

Suddenly the pressure against Ulam’s torso vanished, sending him falling to the ground. The Matriarch then extended her tail far behind her, waiting for everyone to grasp a spike before lurching into motion once again. Quietly they resumed marching through the pitch-black caves, with hardly a word spoken among them. Though Ulam disliked being unable to see where he was stepping, at that moment he thought of the darkness as his ally. After attacking Amantius and Mazargo all he wanted to do was hide his shame, and the absence of light gave him the means to do just that.

“How much further?” Amantius asked after quite some time.

“Have patience,” the Matriarch replied. “We are almost there.”

As they approached the bend Ulam saw a few faint rays of light penetrating the gloom, the silvery beams revealing small particles of dust floating in the air. A fresh breeze of cool air swept through the tunnel, carrying with it the sweet smells of lilac and dew. Though he could not see past the Matriarch, Ulam knew they were nearing the end of their journey through the caverns. While in some ways he was excited to once again be in a lit area, he was disheartened by the immediate future as well. Not only had he hoped to postpone Amantius’ stares and questions a little longer, but he also realized the amber powerstone was about to be disenchanted, permanently severing any chance of communication with the mysterious wizard. And while Ulam desperately wanted to speak with him one more time, he also knew there was no way the others would allow him to touch the powerstone again. I cannot blame them for not trusting me. I am not sure if I trust myself, either. It makes no matter, though I wish I could speak to him one more time. However, I know more today than I did yesterday, or at any other time in my life, and that is a step on the correct path.

The Matriarch squeezed through a large opening at the end of the tunnel, though her bulk made the gap look much smaller than its actual size. Passing under the rock archway Ulam and the others entered a moonlit glade surrounded by silent cliffs, where patches of emerald grass sprinkled with purple flowers reigned supreme. Though he did not think the flora’s existence here was planned, Ulam was surprised to see the Matriarch gingerly step around the miniature gardens, as though she was afraid of stomping out the only beauty in the otherwise dreary place.

Suddenly the dragoness stopped, coiling her tail around her body as she sat on her hind legs. Ulam stood to her right, flanked by Amantius and Mazargo, while Kona and Nilawen remained on the opposite side of the Matriarch. All six stared into the shadows covering the far end of the meadow, listening to the gentle breeze blowing through the stalks of grass. While no one explicitly stated what they were doing, Ulam assumed they were waiting for the Elder to appear. His heart thumped with anticipation, because even though he was now accustomed to seeing dragons, he was still anxious to