The Forgotten War Read Online Free Page B

smell?’
    ‘The dragon’s eyes,’ Cedric replied. ‘On closer inspection we realised that his eyes were in fact spheres permeated by holes set into the stone. They were made of a
strange red stone, inside of which was a powdery substance that smelled so strongly that even now, after all these years, it made our eyes water. They are still examining them back at St
Philig’s. The door itself, though, would not budge and I regret to say we had to force it. Once it gave way it collapsed backwards and shattered, a regrettable loss...’
    ‘So, what was behind the door?’
    Cedric’s eyes lit up, like a beggar thrown a leg of mutton. ‘Things you could not imagine. Straight away I sent one of the lads back to St Philig’s to bring wagons, such were
the amount of finds that were there. My theory is this: after the second war, many Aelvenfolk fled our lands by ship. If they sailed from these ruins, perhaps they gathered what treasures they
could find and sealed them, hidden from human eyes, in this chamber.’
    ‘But why not just take them with them?’
    ‘I do not know. Maybe space on board was at a premium. Maybe they intended to return for them but for some reason never did.’
    ‘And now you feel they want these objects back.’
    ‘Indeed! Willem, fetch the trunk.’
    ‘Yes, Master Cedric’
    Willem sprang up from his sitting position and dragged a large black trunk next to him towards the table. He pinged open its clasps and lifted up the heavy lid. Inside, concealed in vellum
wrappings, were half a dozen objects of indeterminate size and shape. Cedric lifted the first one out and delicately unwrapped it, a hungry look in his eye.
    The first object was a statuette of a stag, maybe the size of a man’s head. Morgan was about to agree that the delicacy of its features, its cocked ears, its large eyes and the finely
carved tracery of its antlers marked it as a masterpiece of its kind, but then dully realised in the dim light that it was entirely fashioned from pure gold. He leaned back in his chair.
    ‘Artorus’s eyes!’ he sighed softly.
    Cedric grinned at him and unwrapped the other objects one by one.
    The second was a falcon, each feather carved in the minutest detail; blue gemstones served for its eyes but, apart from that, it, too, was all gold. After this was a beaver, again golden apart
from its rudder, which consisted of a series of tiny glittering amethysts held together by ... by what exactly? After this was a snake twisting and coiling in on itself, green gems set in its
golden back.
    ‘Two more objects,’ said Cedric. He proceeded to unwrap what looked like a canine tooth, except that it was over a foot long. Its root was bound in gold and set with red gems. The
tooth itself was carved with dozens of tiny delicate lines; it looked like a script but Morgan, a literate man, could not fathom a word.
    Cedric saw his confusion. ‘I think it is ancient Aelven; no human living today can know what it means.’
    ‘You think they might translate it for you?’
    ‘Why not? Can you imagine...’ Cedric gasped in excitement. ‘A cultural exchange ... with the Wych folk – what an achievement that would be!’
    ‘And the tooth itself comes from what animal?’
    Cedric shrugged. ‘I hope it is long dead, whatever it is.’
    The last object took the efforts of both men to lift it out. It was long, narrow and three to four times larger than the others. Cedric gingerly unwrapped it. Morgan’s jaw fell
slightly.
    He assumed, correctly, that it was a dragon: a large reptilian head with red gems for its eyes, a long thin snake-like body, each scale rendered in gold, its tail lifted into the air, the claws
on its feet studded in white stones. Its wings were vestigial and folded over its back. The worth of this piece must have been staggering. Cedric took note of his companion’s numbed
expression.
    ‘There are six of these, and another of the teeth. Each dragon is different. Notice the wings on this