The Dragon Wars (Chapter 2)

The sun was slowly starting to rise in the east. The green dragon, carrying the unconscious Velore on its back, flew all the way to the South Mountains. When it reached the mountains, it flew into a giant cave on the face of the biggest mountain.  Inside the cave slept another dragon. The other dragon had ruby red scales and leather-like wings. It had spikes running down its back, starting from the base of its neck and ending at its tail. It had three small horns on each side of its face and a singular horn on top of its head. The dragon slept in a way that it would be easily mistaken to be a rock. The green dragon approached the sleeping red dragon and spoke to it in an ancient language.

The red dragon slowly woke up from its slumber. It let out a yawn that almost shook the cave and would’ve woken Velore up if he weren’t still unconscious.  It opened its eyes, revealing their sapphire blue shine. “Hangriff,” it said to the other dragon in a booming voice, “why do you wake me?”

“Tregondor has attacked,” Hangriff answered. “I’m afraid he has found where the royal family has been hiding.”

The red dragon stood silently for a moment. “Has he come this far?” he then asked himself.

“But,” Hangriff continued, “I investigated the damage Tregondor caused and found this boy.” Hangriff lowered his wing and gently laid Velore on to the floor.  “I assume he is their ‘secret child’.  I doubt Tregondor is aware of this boy.”

The red dragon sniffed the unconscious Velore. “He certainly has the blood of the royal family within him,” it remarked. “Perhaps he is the one…”

Just then Velore started moving. He slowly sat up and opened his eyes.  “Where am I…?” When his vision cleared, he saw the dragons surrounding him and freaked out.  He backed away from the dragons. “Don’t hurt me!” he stuttered.

“Calm down, boy!” Hangriff said reassuringly. “I promise we won’t hurt you!  We’re not like that dragon who attacked you.”

Velore was still shaking in fear.

“Allow me,” said the other dragon. Hangriff stepped to the side. “I am Tregoneron, king of the Pure Dragons.  We are not your enemies.”

Velore stopped shaking.  “The Pure Dragons?” he stammered. “Then all those stories of the Dragon Wars, the Dark and the Pure…?”

"Are all true, yes,” Tregoneron answered. He turned toward Hangriff and spoke to him in an ancient language.

Hangriff turned around and walked into the darkness of the cave.  Velore gave a confused look.

Tregoneron turned toward Velore. “What is your name, boy?” he asked.

Velore stood up.  “My name’s Velore Nogard.”

“Well, Velore,” Tregoneron said, “what do you know about your family?”

Velore looked up at the dragon, trying not to look scared. “Well,” he started, “We’ve been farmers out in the field harvesting wheat. That’s about as much as I know.”

Tregoneron grinned.  “Well, my boy, I believe you are in for a surprise.”

Just then Hangriff appeared from the darkness carrying a sword and scabbard in his mouth. Tregoneron grabbed the sword with his hands and took it from Hangriff.  “Gratias, Hangriff,” he said in the old language. Tregoneron held the sword and scabbard in front of Velore. The hilt of the sword was a shining gold color and resembled a dragon with its wings spread out, with the head at the blade and the tail acting as the handle.

 “This is Majaron, the sword of kings,” Tregoneron explained. “It houses a sacred power, but only those born of royalty can unleash that power. Here,” he handed the sheathed sword to Velore. “Pull it out of its scabbard.”

Velore looked at Tregoneron as if he were crazy. “I told you, I am a farm boy!” he stated. “I’m not born from royalty!”

“Or perhaps you are, and you never knew,” Hangriff remarked, grinning.  “There is only one way to find out. Pull out the sword and see what happens.”

Velore held his breath as he gripped the hilt of the sheathed sword. He slowly pulled the sword out of its scabbard. The blade of the sword had a silvery metal shine, and on the blade a single word in the ancient language was etched into it: MAJARON. He held the sword and admired it. Then, without warning, the blade began to glow; it turned from silver to gold. The blade itself shown brightly in the dark cave. Naturally, Velore was astonished. How could he be born from royalty?

Tregoneron knew that Velore was confused. He decided to explain. “Your parents never told you about their past, Velore. They didn’t want you involved with the war. So they lived as farmers to protect you from Tregondor, the Dark Dragon king; but only for so long…” He trailed off slightly, but then continued. “I originally believed your parents would be the prophesied heroes; but given the current circumstances, it seems you are the prophesied hero now. You are the remaining bloodline of the royal family now.”



Velore stared at the glowing sword. “I never knew I was a prince,” he muttered. “But what does ‘Tregondor’ want from me?”

Tregoneron gave a grim look. “He desires nothing more than power, and he will do anything to keep his place. He is aware of the prophecy that tells of a child born from the royal family that will come to end his reign of terror. Tregondor felt that the king’s children had escaped during his attack, so he had searched the land for years. Then he found your farm; you were all defenseless then.” He looked outside the cave. “I believe he thinks he’s killed off the royal family. I doubt he is aware of you, the secret child of royalty.”

Velore glanced at the ruby-red dragon. “As a supposed hero of the land,” he said, “I assume I have a quest ahead of me?”

Tregoneron looked down at Velore. “And you’d be right,” he answered. “My fellow Pure Dragons are all in the far corners of this land. Find them and ask them about Tregondor’s whereabouts.”

“Why can’t you find him?” Velore questioned. “Aren’t you an all-seeing god or something?”

“I want to say ‘yes’, Velore,” Tregoneron said regretfully, “but I am not at the moment. I am still in the process of rebirth. It will take me at least three more days until I regain my full might.”

“Rebirth?” Velore questioned.

“Yes,” Hangriff answered. “You see, Velore, dragons cannot truly die. They can be slain, but not killed. They are simply reborn many years later, and it takes just as many years after rebirth for a dragon to regain its strength.”

“You mean Tregoneron was defeated before?” Velore asked, surprised.

“Yes,” Hangriff answered, “when Tregondor invaded the castle long ago.”

Tregoneron stood up. “Now that you know your destiny, Velore,” he said, “are you prepared to accept it?”

Velore was still a bit unsure, but he didn’t want to seem too cowardly.  “Yes,” he said with bravado.

“Then head to Maru Bay, near the foot of the South Mountains,” Tregoneron explained. “There you should find Marugon, deity of the sea.”

Velore attached the scabbard to his belt and sheathed Majaron.  “Understood,” he said. He forgot to tell Tregoneron that he had never used a sword before, but he figured that he would learn by doing.

Nobody noticed a small bat-sized orange dragon fly off after watching Velore from outside the cave.