Curse of the Dragon Kings

by Anne Spackman

  As Gil stood on the darkened hill, he felt less elated than he thought he would be. Vengeance was not sweet; he had killed the beast who had slain his parents, but it would not bring them back.

  The winds changed directions, bringing the scent of death to Gil's nostrils. As he stared at the fallen dragon, Gil didn't even hear Ronan and the others coming until they stood beside him.

  "Oh, Gil!" Lilia wailed, her eyes widening in horror at the sight of Gil's arm. Lilia stepped forward and offered him a sip of one of the precious vials of water from Dragoras Spring to heal it; Gil was glad that one sip was enough to stop the pain before his state of shock wore off.

  Gil's eyes narrowed as a small lizard scurried past them toward the plains. A moment later, it was followed by a procession of foxes, wolves, rats, and goats.

  "What's going on?" Gil asked, his jaw dropping.

  Ronan turned to him with an amused smile. "I think Calatin and Myrddin got tired of killing off Galadon's army." He shrugged. "Once the numbers dwindled to something they could handle, they started returning the creatures to their original forms."

  "You mean, the brubachwycs and chamaelaeons were—"

  "It's been many generations since they lived as natural creatures, but yes." Ronan nodded. "Galadon's monsters were once ordinary creatures. Such a pity." He added, with the regret of an elf observing the loss of life.

  "Galanor!" Gil cried happily, as the familiar form of the Ice Dragon flew toward them.

  "Scathaechir's army has fled." Galanor said with pride. "But that's typical. They weren't prepared for an even fight." Galanor turned to Gil. "Good to see you, Gil," he bellowed.

  "Glad to see you're still alive, too, Galanor!" Gil cried.

  "So, you've lost your weapon, have you?" Galanor chuckled good-naturedly. Gil nodded. "Well, let's see if we can't get it back for you." With that, he flapped toward Vaelcruithir's body, and turned the great creature over. Gil came and withdrew the sword, abrading flesh.

  Now he understood what had stained the sword black; the dragons' age-old fear of this blade must have been formed by past experiences against it. As the blade was removed, the dragon Vaelcruithir's carcass erupted into flames. In a moment, it had magically burned to a fine black powder—dragon's ashes.

  Across the plain, Alator's army began burning the bodies of the dead before the carrion birds arrived. Myrddin aided them, burying the ashes. Already a thick black smoke swirled into the sky, obscuring the luminous white moon.

  Then a scream echoed over the land, coming from an open window in the tower.

  Gil suddenly realized he had left Aiovel alone with Galadon.

  "Time to send in reinforcements." Galanor suggested hurriedly.

  "By all means," Calatin agreed, appearing among them.

  * * * * *

  Dylan stared down at the wand in his hand, horrified. The death curse was working its magic, but on the wrong person.

  When he arrived, Aiovel had been fighting the Dark Wizard.

  So why had she jumped in front of him when Dylan summoned the spell?! Count on a woman to do something absolutely unpredictable! But this thought brought him no comfort.

  Dylan looked up when he heard a flapping sound outside; in a moment, the companions appeared on the ledge, riding a blue dragon. Galanor!

  Calatin assessed the situation with solemn equanimity as they entered the chamber, but Gil gasped.

  On the ground before Galadon lay Aiovel, unmoving but still breathing.

  "Galadon hasn't moved since Aiovel fell, not even to attack me," Dylan said, shaking his head. "I think he's as confused as I am about what Aiovel did." He continued. "Ronan, Calatin— can either of you heal her?" Dylan asked gravely.

  "What happened?" Ronan inquired, stepping forward, his eyebrows knitted in concern. He drew back a little, suddenly feeling exposed and powerless before the Dark Wizard.

  "I was trying to use the wand against Galadon, but Aiovel got in the way." Dylan admitted bitterly.

  Slowly, Calatin shook his head. He took the proffered wand from Dylan's hands, then peered closely at the prince. "There is nothing I can do against the death curse— especially when it has been invoked with such competence." He gave the Prince an odd look, as though reassessing his merits as briefly as the situation allowed. "But I have never before seen its effect upon one of Dragorian blood. Perhaps Aiovel can survive it."

  "No." A solemn, sad voice said. This time, it was Galadon who spoke. His voice was musical. "I've used the spell before, and I can assure you a Dragorian is not immune to its power. Their suffering is only longer. It may take several hours to take full effect, but the spell is an ancient one, and very powerful.

  "Why, Aiovel?" Galadon asked, astounded, as he stared down at her. "Didn't you know that I helped to create the wand of the Elwellyn magicians? Its magic cannot harm me!"

  Aiovel shook her head almost imperceptibly.

  "But why protect me?" Galadon persisted, intrigued. And, Gil thought, strangely unsettled.

  "I hardly know the answer myself." Aiovel replied quietly. "For many long years, my heart burned with hatred for you for what you had done to my father, and for what you had done to my mother— your own sister! I hated you for corrupting my father's people and sundering the race of dragons and for exiling the Silver Elves to Elwellyn to live as forgotten shadows. Yet during the long years of our exile, I tried to put aside the anger and hatred I felt for you, because I knew my people looked to me as an example as their leader, and because I knew my hatred could only harm me with my own bitterness, and not harm the object of my anger—you.

  "Then, after many years, finally the time came when I felt I could endure my bitterness no longer, and so I set out on a great quest to the East to kill you. I knew that if I could not stop you from trying to conquer the world, no one could. For years, I had news that your foul armies passed by my people's forest, and then at last I decided I had to put an end to your conquest, or let the rest of Dragoras become enslaved.

  "Time and time again I was compelled to turn back, until I encountered these worthy companions. Then, when brave Gil saved my mother from your curse, I realized something. I had intended to make you beg for mercy and bargain for my mother's release from her wraith form, but then when she was freed and I thought I no longer needed anything from you, I began to realize that there was something far important I must have from you, though I did not yet know what it was.

  "I realized that my mother had forgiven the creatures who stole her land, her human enemies. She had even welcomed them to her city. Don't you see, Galadon? She knew the time of humans had come, and that the elves had to accept that their time had passed or else be consumed by hatred, a hatred that would destroy them, as it had destroyed you and turned the hearts of the Black Dragons and Fire Dragons to evil. The old magic and ways were dying out or diminishing into the forests, where they could still survive.

  "Nonetheless, only slowly did I begin to understand that my mother was right to forgive the human invaders—their innocent descendents, by then. You could never see that. And while my heart had long burned with hatred for what you did to my father, I realized that I was slowly letting myself become what I hated most—a creature who would do whatever it took to avenge a wrong—I was becoming like you. I began to see that revenging my father by taking your life would be hollow for me, because you have never understood how wrong what you had done to him and my mother truly was. I realized I had to make you see that all things must change, and that the humans—and dragons—have as much a right to life as we do, that the humans living now didn't do anything to our people. The past has passed.

  "Recently, I realized that our people had decided to withdraw on their own to the Living Palace, where all is and shall remain fair and good, that it wasn't your fault they became Shadow Elves. They wanted to be Shadow Elves. Still I would
let nothing keep me from what I felt I had to do—to kill you or be killed myself, as long as I stopped you from re-gaining the West, because my mother had given her life to defend it."

  "You make it sound as though I had no right to those lands, Aiovel. You condemn me for what you say I did, but do I get no say in my own defense?" Galadon interrupted. "When Dragoras came, my mother Elwellyn was Queen of all Arcaendria, yet Dragoras claimed half of my mother's land for himself. And when he came, he left the magic dimensional gate that had led the dragonkind here open for other foul beasts, wyverns, chimeras, and others besides the humans and dwarves to come and take our forest from us, bit by bit, until we elves were exiled to but a few of our cities and small holdings. How could I not but try to re-claim our rightful land and restore our kingdom?"

  Aiovel didn't answer, but shook her head weakly, as though trying to summon the strength to continue.

  "Was it really Dragoras who led the creatures of the wilds here?" Lilia asked, intrigued.

  Calatin nodded; Galadon was watching them intently. "Well yes," Calatin admitted, glancing at Galanor, who had appeared, now in Dragorian form. "Although I do not believe it was intentional on Dragoras' part, and the elves were not exactly exiled then, even though they did have to learn to live among the many creatures who now dwell in their forests and in all of Daegoras. But, Galadon," he added, glancing toward the Dark Wizard, "you do not mention all of the good that the Dragorian race brought to this world, or how the elves themselves benefitted by the trade between themselves and the Dragorian Lords."

  "Nonetheless, Dragoras let our continent become a wilderness." Galadon said bitterly. "And where once great Elf Lords lived, now only wyverns raise their young."

  "So, if that's true, why didn't you say something about it before?" Lilia wondered, pulling the wizard's sleeve. "You led us here all this way up the mountain, letting us believe that Galadon had no other reason to want to conquer the West than evil and vengeance."

  Calatin sighed. "I said nothing about Galadon's reasons because it would have changed nothing. In truth, I kept neutral in this matter between Galadon's followers and the Dragorian faithful for many long years after the fall of Argolen, because the Shadow Elves and Dragorians themselves had grown tired of war and had retreated, seeking peace in their own lands. I had already returned to my own kind when I was charged to safeguard the magic gate, and Galadon was safely exiled to the East. But then Galadon left me no choice when he began to send his foul creatures to the West, creatures who, unlike the other fell beasts of the wilderness, bear ill will toward humankind and Dragorians, and whom I feared would help him to enslave the free kindgoms of western Daegoras.

  "Moreover, as I have said, maintaining the dimensional gate in Gyfen was my primary responsibilty," Calatin added. "Even had I wanted to stop Galadon's armies, I knew I could not do so on my own, so I searched for a warrior to aid me against the Dark Wizard, not knowing that Aiovel still lived until I met her in Gyfen a few years ago."

  "Do not speak of your neutrality. You know the truth, wizard." Galadon interrupted. "You knew that from the beginning the dragons only wanted to lead Arcaendria into chaos, and yet you took the side of Dragoras."

  "You are the one who let your own obsession take hold of you until you were blind to the truth." Calatin countered. "For whatever the Dragorians changed when they arrived in Arcaendria, a cooperative peace would have been the best for your people, as your sister believed."

  "I don't understand. In Galanor's dragon tales, Galadon was supposedly evil, but it doesn't sound as though he really is." Lilia said, looking at Galanor in confusion.

  "Ah, but the dragons would say that, wouldn't they?" Galadon said, catching her words. "You have heard only one side of the truth." He insisted. "Of course, the dragons would call me evil—my wizards killed Dragoras, after all. And it is so much easier to hate me that way, to blame all of their ills upon me, rather than look to the evil in their own hearts, the evil that exists with the good in the hearts of all living creatures."

  "Ah, but you twist the truth, Dark Wizard!" Galanor exclaimed. "There was never dissension among the eleven Dragon Lords until your lies corrupted the seven—" Galanor stopped abruptly as Aiovel began to cough in ragged gasps. As Galanor made a move toward her, Galadon raised his arm, ready to strike the young Dragorian with his magic.

  Then abruptly, he let it fall—harmlessly. Galadon turned to Aiovel. With her strength waning, Aiovel had managed to pull at the Dark Wizard's sleeve to stop him from harming Galanor; she seemed poised on the edge of speech. Galanor remained where he had halted several paces away, not daring to move in case he drowned out her words.

  "Did the ends justify the means, Galadon?" Aiovel whispered suddenly.

  "What?" Galadon exclaimed, shocked.

  "Even if you had a right to suspect that the dragons, dwarves, and humans had come to take your rightful land," Aiovel continued, "how is what you suspected of them any different from what you did to the East? How is it different from your intentions of conquering the West?"

  "Because I am the rightful ruler of Arcaendria." Galadon said, seeming less sure of himself.

  "Maybe you were, once, Galadon," Dylan said harshly. "But as Aiovel said, your time has passed. For whatever reason, the land you wish to rule is not home to your people anymore. You should have accepted that. But instead you would have conquered the innocent—"

  "No one is entirely innocent, Dylan," Aiovel said softly. "I have seen more rulers among your human kingdoms butcher each other in the past three thousand years for the same reasons."

  Dylan flinched; Aiovel's words silenced him, but Dylan didn't appear to agree with what she had said.

  "You defend me again, Aiovel?" Galadon asked curiously. "So, why did you come all this way to kill me, or at least to stop me, only to take the death curse that was meant to be my end?"

  Aiovel sighed. It was a horribly ragged sound. "Because, I will not let myself be like you. I will not be consumed by hatred. I will put an end to my own bitterness and learn to live with and in the present."

  Dylan sensed the true nobility of sacrifice and honor in her words, even though he would never have been so forgiving of the Dark Wizard, relative or not. He would have lanced the elf through with no qualms about it.

  "What makes you think you could ever be like me?" the Dark Wizard asked, half-seriously, for it was clear that Aiovel did look remarkably like him.

  "Because I have always known more of you than you ever did of me." Aiovel said, swallowing hard, choking back pain. "Did you know that when I was a child, the elves in the Living Palace still told stories of you in the days of Queen Elwellyn?" Aiovel asked, though it seemed she did not really want an answer. "All the world spoke of your great generosity and compassion, your heroic deeds and noble character in our dealings with the dragons and the ancient races of pixies, gnomes, and sprites. Before we knew you had been the one who betrayed Dragoras, I thought there had never been a greater Elf Lord; when you betrayed my faith in you, I hated you more than any one.

  "I thought you had made me blind, and I felt that I had betrayed my own father by revering you. That made me hate you more. I never let myself see that for all of the goodness in the Dragorian race, Scathaechir and Rilath were responsible for their own weaknesses. I never saw how greater was their betrayal, for they had once truly loved Dragoras, while you never professed to care for him or to trust his intentions. At least in your own way, you kept your integrity by keeping to your own beliefs, as wrong as you were about my father. But now I know why I came here; I needed to forgive you—as my mother forgave her human enemies—for my own sake as much as yours. I needed to make my peace with the past. And I knew I could trust the others—I had grown to trust them, you see—I knew they would free the East for me if I failed. I was going to confront you with my intentions after Gil left, but then Dylan came, and I attem
pted to save your life because—with my hatred gone, I suppose I began to pity you."

  The room lapsed into silence; Gil realized that in some ways, Aiovel's attitude was similar to his own recent experience. More than anything, he had needed Vaelcruithir to acknowledge his mistake in killing Guilian and Renay. The only difference between Aiovel and Gil was that he hadn't been able to forgive Vaelcruithir. Then again, that was because of Vaelcruithir's arrogance and – and because Vaelcruithir had never regretted what he had done and could not regret it.

  But Galadon? Gil was beginning to wonder. The Dark Wizard's face was a mask, but he hadn't tried anything underhanded since the others arrived. In that moment of silence, Gil wondered about what Galadon had said earlier. Could it be that Galadon wasn't really evil? Gil wondered. Did each side in a conflict merely brand the other evil to allay their own consciences? Was Galadon's evil really only greed and selfishness, or was it merely injured pride?

  Gil shook his head sharply. No, he didn't want to forgive Galadon. But Gil sensed somehow that this was because he preferred to judge people over a sharper line between guilt and innocence; the complexities of the situation, a situation he didn't entirely understand, made that impossible. And, Gil sensed that he touched a nerve in mentioning Grainnewyn and the nature of her death. Could it be that Galadon had never intended to harm his sister and regretted her death?

  Even so, it didn't matter. Galadon had done what he had done, and if he was ever able to face his own conscience, as all good creatures must do, that knowledge should be quite a torment to him.

  Gil stared at the Dark Wizard; yes, signs of distress were beginning to show on Galadon's face!

  Galadon laughed wanly, mulling over Aiovel’s words. "I wanted to be a great Elven King. A King to be feared, to be revered—not to be pitied."

  "Because you felt betrayed? Did you feel my mother had abandoned you because she chose peace with Dragoras and the humans?" Aiovel suggested, shaking her head weakly. "If she had betrayed you, why could she never bring herself to kill you, even after my father's death? Why do you think she set up the magical barrier instead? I think she hoped you would see that you had misjudged the Dragorian race. But if you still have no remorse, then perhaps I was a fool to try to save you."