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

interrupted, the earth shaking as he rushed away from the other dragons. His abrupt departure spread confusion among everyone in the glade.

Amantius followed the Elder’s gaze and saw Nilawen standing alone nearby, the moonlight giving her the appearance of a celestial being gracing the world with her heavenly presence. Though Amantius was relieved to see her alive and well, the Elder’s sudden movements caused panic to shoot through him once more. Instinctively he rushed towards Nilawen, determined to reach her before the Elder did, though he was unsure if he could do anything to protect her. But despite having a shorter distance to cover, Amantius and the Elder reached Nilawen at the same time due to the dragon’s much larger strides.

“Wen!”

“Myria!”

“Myria?” Amantius repeated as he turned towards the Elder. Why would he call her that? Did he somehow see our show?

Moments later Ulam appeared, followed by the dragonesses, and lastly Kona and Mazargo. Together Amantius and Ulam stood by Nilawen, who looked a mixture of afraid and fascinated, her mouth hanging wide open in shock. She tried speaking, but each time her words would die before passing through her lips.

“Myria is that you?” The Elder started. “In this place, at this time? How is any of this possible?”

“Her name is not Myria,” Amantius interjected, “her name is Nilawen. She played a character known as Princess Myria in a production we…”

“Brother,” Ulam interrupted, “you do not see what is in front of you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ulam means the Elder thinks I am Princess Myria of Syrenshara,” Nilawen finally spoke, unable to contain the awe building in her voice. “Because the Elder is Durkan the Flamefang.”

“Durkan the Flamefang?” Amantius echoed, the idea too ludicrous for him to believe. “You can’t be serious!”

“No one has called me by that name in many years,” the Elder replied, sounding reminiscent. After hearing Ulam invoke his long-lost name, the Elder stood a little taller and a little prouder than he had before. “Perhaps not since I left my homeland. Tell me, if you are not Princess Myria, then how do you know this name?”

“Because I am from Syrenshara,” Nilawen explained, “and every child is taught the story of Princess Myria and Fervalor the Fearless. But I always thought it was just a folk tale, a legend, told to keep children from running away from home. Is it really you? Are you really Durkan the Flamefang?”

“I was a lifetime ago, but now I am known only as the Elder.” Durkan retracted his neck, his sapphire eyes looking at the collection of people in the meadow. “After leaving my homeland I flew across the world, searching for a new place to live. Mulni allowed me to live among her pack in a far northern land, and after some time I began to be known as ‘Durkan the Elder,’ and then simply as ‘the Elder.’”

“Who is Mulni?” Amantius asked.

“I am.” The Matriarch replied. “It was my name before I was chosen to be the Matriarch. We dragons only have female leadership because our males are often too headstrong and their penchant for violence often leads to widespread destruction.”

“Now that Durkan is free and Kuruk has been slain, will you return to the north?” Ulam inquired. Amantius thought he heard hope in his foster-brother’s voice, though he could not imagine why it would matter to him.

“I think not,” the Matriarch stated, “at least not for many years. Our whelps will not learn to fly for quite some time, and even then we may not relocate. These mountains give us asylum from the rest of the world, and the hills and valleys scattered throughout are plentiful with sheep and water. Plus we are not the only dragons who make these mountains our home; I have seen others in the distant peaks as well. With that said, however, the Elder is not one of our tribe. He may leave if he so desires.”

“Perhaps someday,” Durkan said, “but for now I am too weak. If flying around this meadow exhausted me, then I will not make it further than the other side of the nearest mountain. I must thank you all for saving my life; I do not know how much longer I would have survived that torment. I am forever in your debts, and I hope I may return the favor in the future. There is one last thing I must ask of you though.”

Amantius felt his stomach sink, fearing they were on the verge of embarking on yet another death-defying adventure. “What is it?”

Durkan smiled, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth. “Tell me of this play.”

They slept in the shade of two great beech trees, the green canopy above preventing the morning sun from waking them early. Amantius was the first to open his eyes, surprised by how energetic he felt compared to how exhausted he had been only hours before. Since the others were in an unspoken competition over who could snore the loudest, he decided to leave their makeshift camp and use a nearby brook to refill their canteens.

Now that the sun had risen above the mountain peaks, Amantius realized the meadow was much larger than he had previously believed. Not only was there a brook he did not see the night prior, but there was a small forest teeming with wildlife nearby as well. He watched as deer peacefully grazed on the green grass beneath them, while birds of all colors chirped away in their nests. The scene was so serene that he almost completely forgot he had nearly been crushed to death by a rampaging dragon.

Where did they go? Amantius wondered as he kneeled down to fill his canteen in the cool waters of a brook. There was not a single dragon in sight, not even Durkan, who admitted he was too weak for prolonged flight. His mind flashed back to the night before when Kona applied a bandage to Durkan’s cut leg, where the curse’s roots had penetrated so deep it left a wound when Ulam removed