The Seer's Scroll: An Ancient Myth

Chapter 2

Uther trudged across the snowy field toward the lava flows. While he planned to run away, he at least owed Syrath, the other wyrm herd, an explanation before he left. Uther sighed and looked back. Behind him, the village looked like a little collection of twinkling lights on a hill. Ahead of him lay the lava flows, a vast field of razor-sharp edges of hardened obsidian and ice, broken only by fresh lava breaking from deep beneath the ground. He had to navigate through the field of rock and snow carefully. The icy ground often concealed crevices hollowed out by the movement of the lava.

After skirting around the edge of a likely pit, Uther saw the herd in the distance. He counted the wyrms as he drew closer. 35...36...37...38. That's all of them. Each wyrm was covered in its own color of scales and measured about ten feet long, with three limbs on each side of its body. The rear four were for propelling the creatures, while the front pair were used to more easily access the lava flows that they fed on. This gave the wyrms tremendous body heat, which melted the snow wherever the wyrms walked. Eventually, it would form ice, but there were just too many wryms about right now. Instead, the ground was covered in an alternatingly freezing and boiling sheet of glowing water. As he splashed through the puddles around the herd and greeted the creatures, Uther saw the wyrm-herder, Syrath, seated out of the water on a dorman lava flow.

She saw him approaching through the herd and waved. "No sun today, eh? I thought not. The Tempest and Phoenix are fighting more than usual, and that wouldn't be the case if someone had freed her." Syrath gestured at the sky. Uther hadn't paid attention up to this point, but now that he looked, he saw that thick clouds filled the sky.

"Well, whoever was supposed to do that obviously didn't get the message," Uther climbed up to sit beside Syrath. "Do you think that the priestess misread the prophecy?"

"It would be the first time that I remember Nathrae proving false," Syrath said. Her pale orange skin and black hair marked her as one born of the Solari. She had married into the tribe, but her husband, Belvar, had disappeared just after Uther was born, just like his mother. She had been allowed to live with the tribe regardless, but chose to spend most of her time tending the wyrm herd. She stroked her chin. "Perhaps we misunderstood the prophecy."

Uther shook his head. "If so, I can't imagine what the true meaning might be. She specifically said she saw 'the Sun being raised as a bucket from the well' and that today would be known as 'the dawn of the new age.'"

"New age, eh? That could mean anything." Syrath said wryly. "Speaking of which, don't you become a man today?"

"Aye," Uther said. "But I won't be here to celebrate it."

"You're running away," Syrath observed. "Well then, what was going to be your birthday gift is now a going-away gift." She rummaged around in her pack until she produced a necklace and handed it to Uther. The string was of leather, and an obsidian disk hung from it. The middle of the disk had a glowing orange gem, and the edges of the obsidian were carved with runes. "A little something to brighten your day, quite literally."

"Thank you," Uther said, peering at the writing. "But what is it?"

Syrath smiled. "A gift fit for a chief's son. It's something my tribe would give the young ones when they came of age. Think of it as a campfire in a rock. All you have to do is press the center and set it down. It will burn for about four hours at a time." Syrath smiled. "And when you're not using it for a fire, it'll make a fine piece of jewelry."

He tested it out, and sure enough, it burst into flames. "What if I want to put out the fire before four hours?"

"Tap the center again. But be quick; the flames are still hot."