Curse of the Dragon Kings
**What do you mean his 'Dragorian form'?** Gil finally managed.
**You don't know?** The dragon sighed, incredulous. **The original form of the dragonkind was as you see Galanor.** He replied, as though the answer were obvious. **Our fearsome dragon shape is the physical representation of Dragorian power.**
**Dragorian power? Don't you mean dragon power?** Gil said, confused.
**I mean what I say, boy.** The dragon snapped. **Dragorians are dragons. Dragoras was High King of all the dragon races and the eleven Dragon Lords.**
**Then you can also turn into an elven shape, too—a Dragorian?** Gil asked, folding his arms across his chest. The dragons narrowed their eyes at him unexpectedly, somehow irritated by Gil's comment and persistence on the subject. But they did not oblige by changing into elven shapes for him.
**Enough questions, boy.** The great dragon wheezed. **You are lucky we haven't eaten you by now. My people have no loyalty to any other dragons but ourselves, and they follow only me, Olierin, King of the Emerald Dragons. However, it is true that young Galanor once did our kind a favor, when he was passing though our lands. He rescued a fledgling from Scathaechir before that warrior— what was it Smath called him?**
**Guilian?** Wistid supplied.
**Ah yes, before Guilian strengthened Grainnewyn's spell, the one that kept Scathaechir from passing the River of Argolen. We have only one fledgling every five hundred years if we are lucky, and they are infinitely dear to us. Galanor brought our fledgling back to us, without any expectations of reward. Something strange it was.** Olierin nodded.
**But if he's a dragon—** Gil began.
**Ah boy, truly you must know nothing of our race. But you are so young, as all your kind are. Almost no point in telling you. You'll only remember for a short time, yet... your ignorance grieves me, yes indeed.** Olierin looked down at Gil sadly.
* * * * *
The three companions plodded on until they came to the River of Argolen. The slow-moving waters gleamed brightly even in the fading light, and the mountains behind were reflected in their depths.
"There's no way I can swim to the other side," Mygdewyn sighed, looking over at the far shore longingly.
"I hadn't thought about it," Dylan said, "but neither can I— not if I want to hold on to my chain mail. It's too heavy to swim in."
"There is an ancient bridge, further up the river," Aiovel said, pointing. "It's not far. If you look east, you'll see where the river Inverlen meets the River of Argolen. The bridge lies just beyond, assuming it will still support us."
"And if not?" Mygdewyn inquired nervously.
Aiovel appeared to be considering a solution to their problem, then shook her head, dismissing whatever it was. "Then we'll have to hope Dylan's got something on under his armor, because we'll have to try carrying you across, Mygdewyn..." Her voice trailed off, and she stopped walking to listen. "Well, it looks as though Galanor has returned, and now he's done it!" She sighed in resignation. "I just hope no one saw him when he changed." Dylan stilled; a moment later he also heard the strange sound riding on the breeze, a steady beat against the air.
"It's a dragon!" Mygdewyn cried, already running for the cover of the foothills behind them. The dragon circled and landed on the riverbank.
Dylan stared at the fast approaching, shimmering, silver-blue creature; the dragon fixed its head in Dylan's direction and stared back at him, its large fine head and bright, white teeth forming a hideous grin. But there was something familiar about that smile.
**Hello, Aiovel.** The great dragon offered sheepishly, idly flapping his wings. **I thought perhaps you three might need a ride to the city. This one here is about to drive me crazy, though. Her feet are tickling me.** He complained.
The dragon was Galanor! Dylan knew that voice too well to doubt it. But how had it happened that Galanor had become a dragon? And was Galanor really a dragon, or a wizard who could turn himself into one? Galanor had claimed he wasn't a magician—but he hadn't denied having magic!
"Have we reached Argolen?" Dylan heard the voice of Lilia Silversmith coming from somewhere behind the dragon. Lilia! Dylan was overjoyed; the others must have survived! Suddenly Dylan realized how much his companions had grown to mean to him; he would even venture to call them friends, though he'd never had friends before. After his ordeal in the dragon's cave, even Lilia's face would be a welcome sight!
Dylan heard a scuffling noise from the cover of a nearby tree. He turned to where the dwarf hid, no doubt wondering why the dragon hadn't eaten them all. After a moment, the dwarf began to slink surreptitiously toward them.
Dylan started to laugh as Mygdewyn approached.
"What's so funny?" The dwarf glared at him.
**Keep her from slipping about back there, will you please?** The dragon continued.
"All right," Aiovel replied, this time in Roste, heading toward the dragon's spiky tail.
"Y-you know this dragon?" Mygdewyn stuttered. The dwarf's expression of surprise was too much for Dylan to bear.
"I think," Dylan laughed, "this is our friend, Galanor."
* * * * *
Galanor carried them over the joining rivers in no time at all; soon they found a clearing and landed just outside Argolen. Nearby the crumbling silver towers of the ancient city threatened to pierce the clouds. There was no moat around the city, and if there had once been one, it was now buried under piles of stone that had fallen from the tops of the outer city walls.
To their left, a great gate faced eastward and toward a small lake that had formed in the nearby valley, fed by the river. Far away and barely visible, the river Inverlen emerged as a small stream from the hills directly north of them and continued snaking its way southwest of the city toward the River of Argolen.
Galanor asked the others to turn away once they were on the ground, while he changed back into his Dragorian form and into his clothes. They waited for him by the outer castle walls; Ronan sat on the grass while the others leaned against a stone rampart.
The immediate dangers now behind them, Dylan began to wonder about the nature of dragons. He had never regarded dragons as more than a single type of entity, but his experience with Galanor and the King of the Black Dragons now persuaded him that they could be as different as elves and trolls.
Perhaps Galanor's smooth skin and fair coloring as a dragon was an indication of his age, not his temperament. Then he remembered the serrated, scaly underside of the young black dragon who had captured him. It seemed rational to him that the most aggressive dragon species would have such fearsome scale plating.
Then again, perhaps dragons had features adapted to their particular environments. The black dragons lived in cold mountains and on rocky nests that had perhaps hardened their exteriors. Still, Dylan wondered, if Galanor were a wizard, perhaps his dragon form was not like any true dragon species, after all. But that explanation could wait until later, he supposed. Gil was still missing, and they had at last reached Argolen; Dylan was more interested in finding the boy and in fulfilling his purpose for their long eastward journey. He imagined great mountains of gold beyond the stone walls of the city, just waiting for the taking. Granted, he wasn't exactly sure how they were going to carry it all the way across the wilderness and then back to Gyfen, but he would worry about that later.
"So, when are we going into the city?" Lilia asked when Galanor returned, strapping his sword onto his belt.
Ronan had just finished telling them about the vulpex and Galanor's transformation when Galanor reappeared; Dylan had listened idly, but Ronan's observations explained nothing. Only Galanor could provide any real answers.
Mygdewyn, still recuperating from his ordeal in the black dragons' cave, eyed the former dragon warily.
"Not until I find Gil," Aiovel said.
"By yourself?" Lilia asked. "But that will take fore
ver!" She wailed. "How about we send Galanor away to find him?" She suggested. "He's much faster!"
Aiovel shook her head. "Galanor expended too much energy in the fight this morning and needs more time to recuperate than I do," she said. "Anyway, where I am going, it would not be wise for him to follow."
"Huh?" Lilia arched a dark eyebrow.
"I'll explain later." Aiovel said hurriedly. "Besides, you're safe here outside the city. No creatures will come near these ruins, and for good reason. But that also means you should not go exploring the city until I return. Explore around it, if you wish; just don't go in, and you'll be fine. Now if you'll excuse me, I must hurry." And hurry away she did, still muttering something about finding Gil.
Then Aiovel vanished.
With a twinge of guilt, Dylan remembered that Gil was all alone out there somewhere, assuming he was still alive, and all Dylan had been thinking about was treasure. Dylan felt a tinge of guilt that he had been thinking selfishly of his own problems while Gil was still out there, all alone. He hoped Aiovel found the boy, and soon.
They made camp near the shimmering lake and distributed the remnants of their food rations. They would have had more, but two of the bags holding the food, ropes, and gold had been left behind at the battle that morning. Dylan had lost his fine blankets for good, but Galanor had been able to bring Mygdewyn's abandoned pack along. The dwarf accepted his pack back from Galanor, relenting in his mistrust of the dragon-man.
Half an hour later, urged on by Lilia, they decided on a quick bath in the waters of the small, nearby lake. Her head disappeared for several minutes, and when she finally surfaced, she hopped quickly out of the water and tugged on Galanor's sleeve. He had remained by the edge of the water while the others bathed.
"What is it?" Galanor cocked an eyebrow.
"There are bodies down there!" Lilia wailed, shivering. "I saw something shiny on the bottom and went down for a look. There must have been a hundred suits of armor lying on the lake bottom, reflecting the sunlight! How did they get down there?" She asked.
"Don't worry, Lilia. They can't harm you now." Mygdewyn laughed.
"Yes," Galanor agreed. "They've been down there for centuries. But I'm surprised, Lilia. I thought you were looking for treasure."
Lilia sniffed. "I'd rather not be a grave-robber, if it's all the same. I prefer to get things that I won't be cursed for lifting."
Galanor laughed heartily.
"Maybe we can just go in for a look around." Lilia said, turning toward the gate into the city. "I won't take anything, just scout ahead—"
Galanor had her arm in a steel grip before she could move.
"You will not go in." Galanor said, his voice dangerously quiet. Remembering that he could become a dragon and was capable of swallowing her whole, she reluctantly nodded.
As the others reappeared on the shore, Galanor stood and headed into the water, wading out to his knees. With a hand faster than the eye, he had pulled a large fish from the lake and tossed it over to the elf.
"I'll wager Ronan can make us a decent meal out of that," Galanor said, returning to them. The dwarf nodded eagerly.
"Yes, make us a feast fitting King Torven's table," Mygdewyn said, licking his lips.
Lilia sat down moodily, kicking her toes in the water.
By the time Ronan had finished cooking the fish with a little help from Galanor to start the blaze, the sun had set, and stars appeared in the clear night sky. The companions sat in a circle around the fire.
"So, how did you ever meet Aiovel?" Dylan wondered aloud, rubbing a hand over his smooth face to check for stubble before putting away his shaving knife. "I never even knew dragons could turn into elves," he added.
"We don't 'turn into elves' as you call it," Galanor laughed. "I am a Dragorian, and this is my natural shape, though you would call me a dragon. Dragon I am, when it suits me to be one." Galanor shrugged.
So he was a dragon after all! Dylan almost fell over in shock, but he managed to keep his composure; Culan would have been proud, had he been there!
"As for Aiovel," Galanor continued. "I met her for the first time seven hundred years ago in Dellfalland, the city of the Ice Dragons northwest of Gyfen. I was only a young dragon then of four hundred years."
Dylan frowned. Seven hundred years ago? "Aiovel doesn't look that old." He said, trying to be objective, but there was doubt in his voice.
"She is still young for one of her kind." Galanor said, laughing at the prince. "So, young Dylan. Your tastes run to elven women as well, I take it?"
"So do you know how Aiovel found us, Galanor?" Mygdewyn asked. "Dylan and I were separated from the rest of you for a long time."
"Ah," Galanor turned to him, smiling secretively. "Yes, I have an idea. But to explain it, I would have to tell you about Aiovel and her journey to the East." He turned aside, as though dismissing the idea.
"Well?" Ronan said patiently, not moving. "So what's stopping you? We aren’t going anywhere for a while, are we?"
X: Aiovel
"Very well, then," Galanor paused, turning back to his audience, "what do you most want to know about Aiovel?"
Mygdewyn considered thoughtfully before asking. "I have the feeling Aiovel doesn't like being near this city. If that's true, then why did she lead us here?"
Galanor suppressed an urge to laugh. "Oh, I wouldn't say Aiovel hates this city. In fact, she was born here."
Dylan choked on a draught of water. "She was?" he sputtered. "I thought she was from Elwellyn."
Galanor smiled. "Her mother was Queen Grainnewyn of the Elwellyn Forest. That is why Aiovel is now Queen of the Elwellyn Shadow Elves." Galanor added.
Dylan shrugged. "So why in Daegoras was she born here?"
"Well, Dylan, for once you've asked the right question!" Galanor cried, evidently pleased. "But where to begin?" He shook his head with elaborate patience, then spread his hands thoughtfully.
"For the answer, just consider Argolen's location." He said at last.
"What about it?" Ronan whispered to Lilia. She shook her head, unable to guess.
"You see," Galanor explained, "Argolen lies between Elwellyn and the ancient kingdom of the Dragorians. My mother used to say that both Dragorians and Elwellyn Elves came to Argolen to celebrate Aiovel's birth."
"You still haven't explained why she was born here," Dylan said.
"Yes, yes, I know!" Galanor sighed, somewhat deflated. "The reason is simple, if you bother to piece together the facts, young prince. Aiovel was born here because her father was Dragoras, the first Dragorian. Now do you see?" He asked, satisfied at last that he had their attention.
"Aiovel!" Dylan cried. "You mean she—"
"Is half-Dragorian?!!" Ronan finished.
"Yes," Galanor said. "The Silver Elves of Elwellyn Forest came here too, in homage to their queen, though now they dare not leave their forest, and so for many years they have been known as Shadow Elves."
"But you say they were originally called Silver Elves?" Lilia interrupted.
"They were, indeed," Galanor admitted. "But not, as one might expect, for the color of their eyes. I'm afraid they once had a particular fondness for silver. Every magical creature in Arcaendria figured that out pretty quickly. The Silver Elves had come to our land first of all intelligent creatures, and they had already named the mountains and river— and any other place that reminded them of that precious metal— after it."
"Arcaendria?" Lilia echoed. "What's 'Arcaendria'?"
"The name of our world, of course," Galanor sighed as he met blank expressions. Apparently, his audience didn't understand simple geography. No doubt they still believed the world was flat.
"Anyway, the Silver Elves had lived here, pretty much alone, for fifteen thousand years, in peace with the gentle creatures of Arcaendri
a in the forests all across the two continents—now called Daegoras and Vilna."
"Ah yes." Ronan nodded. "The Killian Elves have found ruins that suggested their forests were once inhabited by others, but we never figured out who had made the vanished palaces," Ronan interjected.
"Yes." Galanor agreed. "The Silver Elves had left long before your time. But you see, they left no one behind when they moved from your forest, for they had no dead to bury— but all of this happened much later in my story!" he added in exasperation.
"Are elves not all the same, then?" Ronan inquired.
"No, not exactly," Galanor replied, "though I assume all elves must be related in some way. Certainly the Elves of Killian resemble Silver Elves more than the Faerie Elves of Vilna, over the ocean, or the smaller Dark Elves of Rhian Norrow. However, the Silver Elves were the only human-sized inhabitants of Arcaendria when Dragoras led the eleven Dragon Lords here, searching for a land of beauty and tranquillity."
"What about the water-people? The Sea Elves? When did they come?" Lilia inquired.
"And the pixies?" Gil added.
"Now that you mention it, when did the dwar—" Mygdewyn began.
"All of that came later!" Galanor snapped. "Maybe the pixies, brownies, sprites, and gnomes were already here, I'm not sure. Suffice it to say for now that the Silver Elves welcomed the dragon lords first of all the human-sized, intelligent creatures to come to Arcaendria. And in a short time, Dragoras, King of the eleven Dragon Lords, built his city in the rich forested hills at the heart of the continent."
"So," Dylan interrupted, "Argolen lies between the city of Dragoras and Elwellyn's Palace. Guess Aiovel was born here so both sides of the family could visit."
"Exactly," Galanor nodded. "In those days, Dragorians got along with the Silver Elves, and both sides shared a peculiar fondness for fine treasures." Galanor shrugged. "They established a trade between Dragorians and the Elvish mining colony in the silver-rich Silver mountains to the far north of Dragoras City."