Dragon Forest

It was a warm Midsummer’s Eve and Nemrosia’s kind had been preparing for the night’s celebration all day. The holiday had landed on a Sunday and when the sun set at 8:30 that evening, the clamor had done nothing but increase.
Nemrosia had always hated the noise and had, once again, retreated to the edge of the woods he called home. He thought to himself how furious his father Nemor would be if he could have caught him there. The edge of the Legend Woods was forbidden to all elves. Even the great elf-master was not allowed to go there.
Nemrosia had built his own fortified tree house there and called it Fort Sanctuary because it was the only place in the entire forest that he could escape to for peace and quiet and get away from his noisy tribe.
As he carefully listened to the forest around him with his pointed ears, he picked up the sound of running feet coming towards him. He quickly dashed up into his tree house and peered out through one of the windows, so that he could see who was coming.
As he watched the intruder approach, he recognized his lifelong friend, Antle. His tanned face split into a grin as his lightly sandaled feet touched softly to the ground. His tilted, baby-blue eyes laughed at the look on his friend’s astonished face.
Then, after he had sobered himself, Nemrosia inquired, “Why were you looking for me Antle?”
“Well, Nemrosia, I found this.” Antle drew a rolled piece of yellowed parchment from the pouch he always carried at his hip. “It was lying under the treasurer’s tree. It looked as if someone had tossed aside, like garbage.”
“Let’s open it then.” Nemrosia reached for the parchment, but as he did, Antle drew away from him.
“No,” he said, “I found it. Let me open it.”
Nemrosia’s face fell, “Alright, no need to be so possessive, Antle.” He said.
Antle unfurled the parchment to reveal a map showing their exact position. Across from their fort on the map sat another forest with a huge X in the center of it on top of a cave. Separating the Legend Woods from the other forest, identified as Dragon Forest, was a meadow known as Yesdahnchi’s Meadow.
“Whoa, it’s a treasure map!” Cried Nemrosia, his face brightened by excitement.
“Quick, get in the tree house,” Antle said agitatedly, “we don’t want anyone to see us.”
“Okay, but I don’t sense anyone coming.” Nemrosia replied.
“Just do it!” Antle said even more urgently.
When they had both climbed into the tree house, Nemrosia suggested the one thing that had been on his mind since he had first seen the inside of the map, “How about we try to find the treasure?”
“That sounds like a plan to me, but we have to be very careful on our way out of the woods and across the meadow,” Antle replied crossly, he clearly disapproved of his comrade’s excitement, “we don’t want to get caught.”
They had to go through the gate, which was about half a mile away, but that didn’t bother them much because they wanted to avoid the alarms and booby-traps that surrounded the forest. The booby-traps were meant, not only to keep the population of the forest in, but also to keep intruding men out. Only one teenaged boy, out of all the tribes of men who had tried, had been able to get through.
The two silently stole out of the Legend Woods with no episodes to betray their departure.
As they headed across the meadow, Nemrosia wondered about the cross mood of his companion. ‘What’s wrong with him?’ he thought to himself, ‘Why is he so off color?’ Then, the two reached the outskirts of the Dragon Forest.
“Walk at your quietest,” Antle warned in a whisper, “I don’t want anything to hear us.”
‘Alright,’ Nemrosia thought, ‘this is weird.’
The Dragon Forest was strangely quiet. There were no birds twittering in the trees, and no noisy squirrels chattering about where they could hide their acorns for the coming winter. Not a leaf rustled, not a single tree branch creaked overhead. Even the small streams that criss-crossed throughout the forest, on their way to one lake or another, made no gurgling sounds.
‘This shouldn’t be called Dragon Forest,’ Nemrosia thought, ‘it should be called “The Forest of Silence,” or “The Dead Woods” instead. Why is this place called Dragon Forest anyway? I haven’t seen any dragons.’
When they reached the cave, Nemrosia noticed that there were scorch marks on the rocks around the entrance and that smoke poured out through it from deeper in the cave. Then he spotted letters carved into the rock above the doorway. It read:
“Beware,
Any elf who enter here,
Releases his greatest fear.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nemrosia asked apprehensively.
“It means,” Antle shoved Nemrosia into the cave’s dark entrance, “you’re dead.”
The instant that Nemrosia’s foot touched the sweltering hot stone of the cave floor, a terrible roar erupted from deep inside of the earth. The ground began to tremble as if a huge earthquake was about to begin. The loose rubble on the cave’s floor began to bounce up off of it as if to escape the violence.
“You’re not yourself Antle,” Nemrosia shouted.
“Of course not, you fool! Your friend has been dead for many long years. Have you, in your everlasting life forgotten that men could not also live forever?” Antle’s impostor said this using a face that was a mockery of shock.
“Why?” Nemrosia inquired, “Why did you choose to use me? Show me who you are coward!”
“As you wish.”
Antle’s form slipped away like ripples on water, and the treasurer, Ureoto, stepped forward. Somehow he had managed to master the artful magic of Changing. However, that raised another question in Nemrosia’s mind.
“How did you know that Antle wasn’t one of us?” Nemrosia snapped at the treasurer, “No one knew. No one knew except for father and me. We disguised him. We kept him looking young despite his age. Not even the wisest knew he wasn’t one of us! How could scum like you know?”
“Changing isn’t the only power I have mastered.” Ureoto answered.
Nemrosia was shocked. “Are you suggesting that…?”
“That I can read minds as well. I am working on mastering other, even more useful, magical skills as well.” Ureoto said this, and then, laughed menacingly at the traumatized expression on Nemrosia’s face. “You were foolish to trust me!” Ureoto continued, “I knew that only you and your father could read the map. You didn’t realize that you have hidden powers that not even I could master. Your grandfather made sure of that. He cast a spell on his descendants so that only they could read his script. And now, you’ve led me to The Secret Book”
“So…my grandfather was an elf-mage?” Nemrosia questioned, “Why wasn’t I told?”
“Not even your own, all-knowing father could tell,” Ureoto retorted, “Your grandfather was wise not to tell you of the power you hold in your hands. You probably would have used it to save the world. You won’t be alive long enough to master it, though. The beast of the cave will make sure of that.”
As if on cue, the beast that Ureoto had mentioned chose to reveal itself in all of its horrible glory. It was a fierce, fire-breathing dragon, the color of dried blood, with two large spiraling horns, one over each madly bulging, pale yellow eye. In truth, Nemrosia had never before seen a real dragon, even from a distance, and the terrible beauty of it frightened him into a revolted sort of awe. Even the dragons shown in the enchanted paintings of the history of his tribe did not have such horrendous appearances.
Ureoto laughed menacingly. “You foolish youngling. I have no more use for you now. Just make sure to keep the dragon busy long enough for me to grab The Secret Book, and remember to run, run, as fast as you can, you’d better just hope that the gingerbread-man’s speed you have will help you escape the beast’s flames.”
Ureoto dashed into the cave, dodging between the dragon’s tree-thick legs, but, as Nemrosia watched, the dragon’s tail, large as the tallest cypress tree and just as limber lashed at the treasurer. The elf tried to get away from the sharp blow that was sure to come, but, at the last moment, the huge barb on the end of the tail caught on to his long cloak, and he was jerked up into the air. Then, at that very moment, the clasp on the garment broke, and Ureoto fell to the ground with a sickening thud. The dragon turned and began to feast upon the fresh flesh of the dead psychopath, and appeared to enjoy it very much.
Nemrosia was so frightened by this, that, at first, he was frozen in place, but, as soon as he regained control of his body, he was able to run swiftly to the edge of the Dragon Forest. While he was crossing the meadow, Nemrosia thought about the future fury of his father when he would go to report the events of that sad, frightening Midsummer’s Eve, and the fact that his grandfather was an elf-mage. Perhaps they could plan a way to retrieve The Secret Book from the Dragon Forest’s cave, and learn of his grandfather’s secrets to the art of magic.