Sidero's Curse

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley… but there sure are now!

The small crimson dragon nipped at Emmett’s feet, wisping at his ankles. SNAP went its teeth against its jaws as it missed Emmett’s faded grey trouser leg by mere inches.

Emmett vaulted over the large rocks surrounding the river’s edge, using his hand to steady his movement, gliding across the top. Emmett’s shaggy mouse-brown hair pressed closely to his face in the harsh winds pushing through the long Valley. His large, heavy backpack thumped on his lower back with every long stride he took.

He kept his goal in sight. He could lose the dragon in the forest. Well... he hoped.

SNAP! The dragon's teeth cracked against themselves. Its long gangly body, hot on Emmett’s heels, its legs scampering through the long dry grass.

Emmett pushed into the forest, quickly dodging around the trees. The dragon mirrored his movements, keeping close behind. SNAP went its jaw again. Emmett kept on. Sliding and darting around the old pine trees, trying to gain some distance.

Emmett grabbed hold of a low tree branch, skidding around the tree on his feet, puzzling the dragon. Emmett continued onwards, looking back at the dragon, proud of the space he had put between them.

Then- nothing. There was no ground beneath him. In his haste, Emmett hadn’t seen the deep slope in between two trees. He tumbled. Tossing and fumbling down the hill, meeting a sudden drop beside an old pine tree’s base. A hollow! Emmett scrambled inside the small opening, waiting for the sound of the pursuing dragon.

Emmett waited. Silence. He leaned forward, looking up at the grey sky between the leaves of the trees, listening to the rustle of the branches in the wind, feeling the air upon his face. Still no sign of the dragon. He sat back against the mud walls, relieved.

Emmett breathed. It was ragged and long. But he breathed. This was not the first time Emmett had found himself running for his life from a dragon, but it certainly was the fastest one he had encountered so far. If only he didn’t keep listening to that Old Farts’ directions. Perhaps he would actually find a “shortcut” that wasn’t a death sentence.

Emmett opened his coat and took out the folded paper that had started to creep out of the hole growing in the inner pocket. He unfolded the old map, taking the small pencil hidden inside, and drew a big cross over the area in which he had first encountered the dragon. ‘DO NOT GO. DRAGONS HERE” he wrote.

“Stupid Old Fart. Does he want a dragon to eat his only grandson?” Emmett grumbled, carefully folding the map back into a neat rectangle and placing back into his pocket. He took a deep, inhale of air and prepared to head back out into the forest.

From his hiding spot, Emmett cautiously peered out, moving slowly, crouched lightly on his hands and feet. Gradually standing up straight, Emmett looked around the forest trying to gain his bearings.

Although he was accustomed to being sent on a wild goose chase with nothing but a vague jumble of directions and a backpack of goods to trade, Emmett still couldn’t comprehend his boss' (or should he say “loving grandfather's") refusal to acknowledge the increase of the dragons in the area. Their once dull province was becoming a haven for dragons of all sizes. The Valley was abundant with resources and for many years had been known to steal the hearts of many a citizen, weary traveler, soldier, and now (for some reason) a variety of beasts. Dragons were the most prevalent of the new creatures venturing over to the east side of the kingdom. They took almost no time to settle in; making use of the assortment of caves, forests, and water available surrounding the Valley, as well as taking advantage of the occasional merchant on the open road. Emmett’s boot included! Even now, no one believes how Emmett once managed to lose a boot whilst being chased by a dragon. Fortunately for him, it was far too interested in playing with the bootlaces to continue its pursuit of Emmett. Still, the replacement of said boot (of course) came from Emmett’s own paycheck.

Emmett took out the map once again whilst reaching into his left trouser pocket for his trusty old compass, the scratches and large crack on the center of the glass a reminder of all the adventures it must have endured before it was given to him. Remembering the instructions given to him by his grandfather, he needed to continue onwards to the northern side of the province in search of the “large beaten-up shack, urr… near the end of the Valley and by a large boulder!”

Tucking the map back into his coat, Emmett started making his way through the forest following the northern point of his compass. The gentle crispness of the leaves crunched under his footsteps, he walked cautiously between the trees, still listening for any sound of unexpected hunters.

Emmett closed his eyes for a brief second, enjoying the icy bitterness of the now calmer winds around him. In these fleeting moments, Emmett caught himself enjoying these deliveries, despite the regular dangers. In the last 5 years, Emmett had explored most of the Eastern Province and had been able to discover much of the villages and towns surrounding his home. He had made many acquaintances on the open road and even hitched a ride on a few kind merchants’ horse-drawn wagons.

Emmett could see the clearing. As he stood at the edge of the forest, he had a wide view of the beautiful valley covered in lush greenery, the clear river running southernly.

He continued further north, finding himself in a vast field looking towards the base of Mount Zale that marked the edge of the Eastern and Northern Province.

“Well. I guess he’s right about something.” Emmett caught sight of the large wooden shack before him. Its windows cracked and faded. A roof that once looked to be thick strong timber, now missing planks. And was the house… leaning? Emmett tilted his head to the right. Yes. It was definitely leaning away from the large boulder that stood beside it. The boulder looked to be around the same height as the shack and incredibly out of place; its edges almost looked smooth and soft which suited the romantic aesthetic of the rolling hills in the Valley, but its placement was peculiar. In this wide-open space stood one falling-down shack and one large boulder.

“How did the boulder even get there?”

“I can tell you if you like.”

Emmett’s soul leaped from his body in fright. He hopped away from the voice like a startled deer, looking toward the individual.

There stood a fraying figure, an old man. His wispy white hairs barely clinging to the circumference of his head, his eyes a vibrant green, and a large mischievous grin that reached from ear to ear. His arched back and his bowing legs were supported by a long wooden cane as tall as the man himself which he clasped with both hands. His brown cloak was tied loosely by his neck and covered most of his body, only showing the bottoms of his pale shins and long bony feet which fashioned a pair of faded brown sandals.

The Old Man giggled with childlike playfulness. “Sorry.” He chortled. “Couldn’t resist.”

Emmett stared blankly at the Old Man; eyes wide in confusion. “How did you sneak up on me?”

“Pretty fast for an old geezer, aye? Say… You look pretty young to be out here on your own. What are you… 12?” The Old Man grinned widely; his wrinkles tucked right up to his eyes.

“Almost 15 actually.” Emmett stifled his desire to sulk. Being mistaken for a younger age had always been a sore spot for Emmett, this often happened despite his excessive efforts to act in a mature manner. He cleared his throat. “I’m Emmett, Jonah Finch’s grandson. I am here to trade with the persons residing in the shack over there. Do you-”

“Well! Why didn’t you say so? I’m right here! Let’s go in, shall we?” The Old Man beamed then tentatively started his long 30-foot journey towards the shack, juddering his cane forth one step at a time. Emmett slowly walked beside the man, unable to find words to fill the deafening silence that had fallen between them.

The Old Man moved towards the door and gently pushed it forward, its jagged creaks echo throughout the hollow house. Emmett looked curiously around the room as they entered. The shack felt empty and cold, its furniture was sparse and battered. There stood two chairs tucked under a small wooden table against the wall, and a large dusty rocking chair sat beside a distressed window, overlooking the large boulder.

“So.” the Old Man started, “Has Old Finch finally fulfilled his promise?” The Old Man’s once childish presence had completely dissipated, his gleeful grin now replaced by a cold and impassive emotion. His eyes bore into Emmett, his gaze flickering to the backpack strapped to Emmett’s back that now shivered with chills under the Old Man’s piercing stare.

Emmett stood strong under this pressure, not allowing his emotions to be shown. He strode slowly towards the table, keeping his eyes on the Old Man, whilst unhooking the ragged bag from his shoulders.

The Old Man eagerly followed behind and watched impatiently as Emmett opened his backpack, unsure of what his grandfather had actually given him.

The air was suffocating. Emmett couldn’t understand the man's change of emotions and how the items he had carried for almost 2 days through the Valley held such importance.

Emmett reached into his bag and placed down 3 items, preciously wrapped in thick, off-white cotton. All three items seemed to be a similar size, around 5 inches long and 4 inches wide. They all shared a comparable heaviness, parallel to the weight of the atmosphere around them.

The Old Man’s breath was jagged. “Open them.” He exhaled. Eyes wide, fixated on the cloths; knuckles white from tightly clutching his cane.

Emmett glanced over to the man beside him. Now standing so close, he could see the Old Man was about the same height as him, standing around 5 feet tall. Emmett picked up and carefully unwrapped the objects one by one.

A hollow, cuboid-shaped metal paperweight.

A small wooden carving of a winged dragon.

And a chunk of unrefined moonstone.

This… this can’t be it! Emmett thought. This can’t be what the Old Man was waiting for. What was he thinking making me deliver these?!

Emmett’s face ran cold. He kept his eyes down, not daring to look at the Old Man. Not being able to meet his gaze and see his disappointment.

A tear dropped on the weathered table.

Startled, Emmett quickly looked upon the wrinkled face of the man.

Tears poured from his eyes. He sobbed. Years of tears flooded down his face. His knees caved under his weight, cracking and thumping to the floor.

Emmett cautiously placed a hand upon the Old Man’s shoulder, gently resting his fingertips on the cloak.

The Old Man let out a raspy breath. “Finally.” He shook. “Finally… She can come home.”

Neither person moved. The sounds of the Old Man sobbing filled the rickety shack. An icy breeze slipped through the gaps of the walls, sending new shivers down Emmett’s spine. The once grey skies fell dark, covering any light that had seeped into the house from missing pieces of the ceiling above.

The Old Man took a deep breath, using his right hand to grasp the edge of his cloak and wipe away much of the water from his face. “I guess you want your pay then, aye?” The big toothy grin now returned to its original form.

“Er- I- I guess… I mean yes.” Emmett stood straight, shoulders back, trying to feign confidence.

The Old Man gripped his cane, steadying himself to standing. He walked over to the rocking chair, moving the cushion that rested against the left arm and revealing an item wrapped up in a solid black cloth. The material seemed to be a rich satin, shimmering in the gentle light above them.

“One payment.” The Old Man said, lifting the object towards Emmett, his hand trembling, his voice soft. “Give my regards to your pops, kid. Seems he is a man who can keep a promise. I… I just can’t believe he finally did it…” He let out a small chuckle and smiled again.

Emmett took the payment from him and placed it in his backpack that was still open on the table. After tying the strings shut, he slid the straps back over his shoulders. “Well. If that’s everything, I will be on my way, Sir.” Emmett announced.

“Of course, Sir.” The Old Man said in a rhythmic tune, mocking Emmett’s formality. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

As the door creaked closed behind Emmett, he stood puzzled and tried to take in the events that had unfolded in one short day.

What the… “Hm.” Emmett pondered. Why did he even want them? I guess it’s not my place to ask about the dealings between two old men. Wait... I'M the one risking my hind for those… those ornaments! He scowled at the thought.

Emmett looked skyward. The sun was no longer peeking behind the ashen grey clouds directly above, but now heading westward towards the peak of the hilltops. The day was getting away from him, it would be too late to start the journey home now. It would be wise to make camp soon and preferably as far away from this strange old shack as possible.