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

to once again use their fraternal bond to non-verbally communicate with one another. He then wrapped his hands around an imaginary axe handle and made a few quick chops, followed by a throwing motion, hoping Amantius understood what he was suggesting. After repeating the gesture a few times his foster-brother finally retrieved the axe, sliding his grip low on the handle, preparing to sling the weapon.

“I see you have made your decision,” the Matriarch said, her patience depleted. “Very well. Which one of you should die first? Perhaps the trickster who misled us into believing he would heal the Elder.”

Mazargo began to howl in pain as the Matriarch’s claws slowly crushed him, the mage kicking and biting but to no avail. At that moment Ulam shouted for Amantius to toss the axe, which he did with surprising accuracy. But Ulam did not catch the weapon, the dimness of night having affected his depth perception too much. Instead, the handle skimmed off his fingertips and struck the Elder, dislodging the clusters of hardened stone around his eye.

“Dammit!” Ulam growled as he struggled to lift the heavy rocks that had fallen on top of his axe. Behind him, he still heard Mazargo’s wails, as well as the others screaming in a chorus of terror.

“I can see again.”

The voice startled Ulam, the deep rumbling causing him to drop the large stone he was holding. He looked up and saw the Elder’s excavated eye wide open, a black slit in the center of a sapphire iris. The cursed dragon then raised his head off the ground, shaking it from side to side like a wet dog, propelling small rocks into the air. After Ulam finished evading the shower of stones he turned to see the Elder standing proud, his scaly face almost completely free of the petrified rock.

“I can see!” The rejuvenated dragon bellowed into the sky, his words thundering off the nearby mountains. “Am I free of this curse? Has my torment finally come to an end?”

All eyes were on the Elder as great boulders of stone slid from his cardinal scales. Being directly beside him Ulam had to remain nimble, for any one of the rockslides would be enough to crush him. Though the Elder had regained some mobility, it was not nearly enough for him to stand for long. His wings and back legs were still covered in the cursed stone, anchoring him to the ground. The image reminded Ulam of a newborn sea turtle emerging from its egg, struggling against the mounds of sand as the last flakes of shell fall harmlessly by the wayside. The only difference being that instead of a baby turtle, Ulam was standing beside a dragon whose madness was driven by centuries of pain.

“You,” the Elder said as his one open eye stared at Ulam, “keep hitting the stone with that axe.”

With the flick of a claw, the Elder sent a mound of rocks flying through the night’s air, uncovering the moonlit blade of the jade-green axe. Ulam grabbed the weapon and immediately began hacking at the slabs of stone still clinging to the Elder’s flanks, each strike creating an explosion of sparks and pebbles. The work was exhausting, like cutting down a tree that would never tumble over, but with time he cleared enough stone to show progress. Most importantly, though, as long as the Elder’s scales continued to be freed of their stalactite prisons the Matriarch would postpone her hostilities.

Ulam’s muscles ached as perspiration dripped from his beard. He had been swinging the axe with so much force his palms were developing blisters, the sweat stinging the open sores. There was nothing in the world he wanted more than to drop the axe, but he knew the moment he did the Matriarch would eviscerate Mazargo before crushing the others in some gruesome manner. Of course, he also realized this was still completely plausible even if he managed to remove all the stone from the Elder’s body, but time and options were luxuries he could ill afford.

With one last swing the axe bit into the petrified rock, the blade wedged in a crack. Ulam grunted as he wiggled the handle, pulling in a vain attempt to dislodge his enchanted weapon. Only by putting all his weight into the shaft was he able to break the last of the stone on the Elder’s legs, causing the great dragon to roar as a river of dark red blood erupted from a fresh wound. As Ulam watched in shock he felt the ground beneath him tremble, turning to find the Matriarch charging with one yellow-scaled claw ready to decapitate him.

Ulam only had enough time to close his eyes, accepting he had let the only chance of saving everyone slip through his blood and sweat-soaked fingers. In that brief second, he was at peace with his fate, enjoying his last seconds alive. For the last time, he heard crickets playing a bittersweet melody as though he was their entire audience, as one last gentle breeze tenderly touched his skin.

Suddenly, a booming thwack sounded across the glade.

To the Otherworld.

Chapter 22

Amantius

Amantius lay in the grass, staring at the star-speckled sky above him. Everything had happened so quickly that his mind was still trying to piece together the sequence of events that led to his current predicament. He was short of breath, the collision with the ground having knocked the air from his lungs. Judging by how distant everything sounded, he must have been tossed across the meadow, though he had no recollection of flying. If not for the aches in every part of his body, Amantius would not be certain he was even still alive.

The vicious conversation between the two dragons in the glade spurred Amantius into motion. Despite the sharp pains shooting through his muscles, he forced himself to climb to his feet. From there he mounted the trunk of a fallen tree and desperately searched for his companions, though from his vantage point he was