Curse of the Dragon Kings

by Anne Spackman

  As Lilia looked up, the druid's features began to melt into those of the true Ronan. At last! she thought with delight. So it was a gradual change, after all. Yet the transformation had taken place so fast that it seemed almost instantaneous.

  "Now, Ronan, I will ask you. Have you made your decision yet? Do you wish to remain druid or priest?" Myrddin waited patiently, his eyes betraying none of his own hopes.

  Ronan's face screwed up in concentration. A few days ago, he would have thought that he preferred the powers of the druid, Rodruban. But after yesterday, the elf priest had shown him the strengths of that aspect of his character.

  In his natural half-elf state, Ronan had found the most balance, yet at times he felt there was something missing—the self-assurance of Rodruban, and the compassion and inner strength of the elf Ronan.

  Then at last he realized the best answer to it all!

  "I choose to remain as I am." Ronan declared after a moment. "I need both chaos and order in my life, but I don't need it all, all of the time. I think perhaps that is why I've flitted from one to the other my entire life. Of course, the curse you put on me has been difficult to live with at times—and not only for me. I thank Mygdewyn's patience for putting up with me, but in truth, well, this curse seems to me not a curse at all." Ronan laughed. "At least I'll never be bored! I'd grow tired of Rodruban's selfishness, my own indecision, and the other Ronan's unerring goodness. So, if I may, I would choose to remain as I am—at least for now," he added, with suitable Ronan-style indecision.

  Myrddin nodded, then erupted in amused laughter. "So this is your choosing!" He cried, wiping his eyes. "But I admit I was gratified by your actions in the battle yesterday. When it really mattered, you acted quickly and decisively. And if truth be told, I once had the same problems of indecision myself—back when I was a druid."

  "You mean you've grown out of it?" Calatin teased. "Well, at least Ronan isn't also hasty, or meddlesome, like another priest I know, who shall of course remain nameless."

  "Give him time," Myrddin countered.

  "So you were a druid?! Mygdewyn sputtered, recovering from shock.

  "Yes," Myrddin nodded, "though I don't like the word to get out among the priests and druids in training. Priests and druids were once not quite so distinct from each other in those days, but today I'm afraid it only complicates things unnecessarily for the acolytes to know.

  "Speaking of which, I imagine I'll have to be getting back soon." He went on. "No doubt the druids are all running amok without me—being there to stop them, of course."

  "I've been thinking," Gil said, interrupting. "Whatever happened to the magic gate in Vilna?"

  "I imagine it's still operating." Calatin shrugged. "Though I don't know. The magic sight of my crystal ball doesn't reach that far. However, I have no intention of finding out. I for one am looking forward to returning to Gyfen. Someone at least must inform Prince Cormac and his father of what has happened." He paused, turning to Gil. "Will you be coming back with me, Gil?"

  For a moment, Gil vacillated.

  "You can't leave us, Gil!" Lilia wailed.

  "Us?" Mygdewyn echoed. "So you're lumping us in on this?" He sighed elaborately. But Lilia knew him well enough to recognize his gestures of affection.

  "I think I'll stay here a while," Gil said at last. "I don't feel ready to return to Gyfen, somehow."

  Gil's grandfather nodded. "When you are, you and I have a lot of catching up to do." He smiled. "If I don't answer the bell, just come in and find me. Everyone else does. Isn't that right?" He asked Lilia.

  "Hey, Dylan, you still haven't finished my swordplay lessons." Gil said, laughing.

  Dylan nodded soberly, avoiding Gil's eyes.

  "Actually, I am taking the Prince of Dunlaith home tomorrow." Calatin said.

  "What? How?" Lilia demanded.

  "The same way I got here, of course—an instant translation spell is the only way for me to travel." Calatin threw up his hands. "You don't suppose wizards need to walk anywhere, do you?"

  "Why the rush to go back?" Lilia inquired unhappily.

  How could he explain? Dylan thought. If they knew the state Dunlaith had been in when he had left it, they wouldn't have needed to ask. Dylan wanted to stay with them, of course, but he knew where his duty lay. He had vowed to return with treasure for the kingdom, to save his family. Now that he had it, he couldn't just ignore that promise! The gold they'd found in Argolen wasn't even the greatest part. Dylan had no doubt that the city's knowledge of architecture contained in the great volume he'd found would be able to raise Dunlaith to new heights— and to fortify the city.

  Dylan knew how important that was soon to become. Yet he wasn't sure how long it would take for word from Gyfen to reach Dunlaith that they should prepare themselves for the return of monsters to Western Daegoras.

  "Don't tell me—your father will be so grateful that you've saved the kingdom that he'll be naming you as his heir!" Lilia cried. When Dylan didn't give her an answer right away, she began to imagine a far more exciting alternative.

  Gil chuckled in amusement but surprised himself with the realization that he hadn't engaged in such flights of fancy since he'd left the Pegasus.

  How long ago that seemed.

 

  * * * * *

  Shortly after noon two days later, the reduced number of companions wandered among the stalls in the marketplace of the newly freed city of Gildorland.

  As it turned out, though the best deals were to be found among the local merchants, only the traders from Murmanek and Naemar could afford to pay them anywhere near the value of the pieces from Argolen. Thanks to Mygdewyn's jewelry, or at least the ring of truth, they seemed to find straight answers—and avoided shady deals. But in the end, they settled on selling what they needed for immediate expenses and holding off on parting with the rest. It was going to be hard dividing up all that they had found together fairly.

  "What nerve!" Lilia wailed, shaking her fist at one of the vendors. "Imagine giving only ten gold for this exemplary piece of ancient flatware! Well, no thank you!" Gil smiled as Lilia stormed off in a huff.

  "Sir!" One of the other vendors called. Gil looked around uncertainly, and locked eyes with a stout, middle-aged man. The merchant urged him to his stall with a friendly grin, stealing glances over at his neighbor who had offended Lilia.

  So the man had been talking to him! Gil tried to keep a straight face and approached obligingly, in part because of the man's choice of address.

  "Don't let Melatad fool ya!" the merchant advised, inclining his chin toward the other vendor. "Old Melatad Jernay's the biggest crook in these parts. Take my advice. If you're looking for a good deal fer yer finer wares, take 'em to Onega, in Vilna. It should be easier to book passage there, now that the Dark Wizard's been ousted. But I'd hurry if I wur you— can't never tell how bad it'll be if they find a new rooster to lord over us."

  Gil nodded gratefully, then hurried to catch up with the others. Galanor was retelling his story about what had happened in Daegoras and about his encounter with Nynnia, but Gil had already heard it twice. Gil waited and relayed the merchant's advice.

  "Let's go there together!" Lilia cried.

  "I must admit, that's a good idea!" Ronan, a half-elf today, said with uncharacteristic resolution, leaning on his Staff, though only out of habit. For of course, he didn't really need it anymore. Since Ronan had made his choice of calling, he hadn't complained of fatigue— not even once. He had, however, picked up an annoying habit of setting too brisk a pace for the others to follow; but perhaps this hasty behavior came along with his new-found decisiveness.

  Mygdewyn seemed incredulous about the idea but showed no sign of protesting against Ronan's decision.

  "How about you?" Lilia asked Galanor and Aiovel.

  "I suppose my people
can manage to continue their revelry without me for a little while longer," Aiovel shrugged.

  "Hmmm. Well, perhaps we could take a schooner down to Gildford first." Galanor suggested, his enthusiasm mounting. "Then take a caravan to Naemar—" Galanor stopped abruptly.

  Dylan had suddenly appeared on the road ahead!

  "Dylan!" Lilia cried, eyeing the prince's fine new armor, though strangely, the royal crest was gone. "What are you doing here?" She said.

  "I don't know how Calatin does it." Dylan laughed, shaking his head. "This instant translation thing is murder! I tell you, I'd rather have walked—so to speak," he amended quickly, unless the wizard had any notion of obliging him by sending him back to Dunlaith.

  "I thought you had your magic spell and your treasure and didn't want to have anything to do with us!" Lilia huffed.

  "So what brings you back?" Gil wondered.

  "Well, my father was pleased with the gold, and it turns out that orb I was tossing around really was priceless. Quite a nifty little thing, actually—it sustains an illusion indefinitely until you change the projected image. And, my father really loved the book we found in Argolen." Dylan explained. "He's using the gold to repay his debts and to pay for reconstruction of Dunlaith's sewers. And, if you can believe it, he's planning to sell copies of the work to other cities for a small fortune!"

  "So what are you doing here, if everything was working out so well?" Ronan wondered. "It sounds as though you were a big hero, after all. Your father must have been proud."

  "Well, to tell you the truth, I missed you all, though I didn't realize how much I would until I left. And, I've realized something from this whole experience." Dylan said, shrugging. "Magic alone, even a long-desired fire spell, can not bring you happiness."

  "But treasure can?" Mygdewyn suggested.

  "Well, my father would certainly be one to say so." Dylan grinned. "But magic is just like treasure. You've got to use it effectively, or it doesn't accomplish anything. Anyway, I've found something far more valuable than either."

  "What?" Mygdewyn inquired, as Dylan withdrew something from his cloak that looked like a conical wizard's hat.

  "Self-respect." Dylan said with a laugh and doffed Nolan's singed cap.