The Dragon Fang - Search for the Sword

The Dragon Fang

- The Quest for the Sword.


Prologue:


2000 years ago

“What do you see old man?” the dark being screamed, his thumb embedding into the old man temple, who was forced to kneel on the ground.

The old man smiled, ignoring the pain, as the visions he was witnessing were pleasing to the eye. “If I tell you Dread, that would make you even angrier and I’m not really in a position to madden you …” his voice trailed off, his ironic humour making the dark lord’s thumb embed further into his nerve.

Dread’s thin lips pursed together, as the rage within him became difficult to control. His black cloak flapped in the wind readied to produce a storm. His pale white eyes began to grow slightly darker, as the rage grew. “Listen old man. I can’t kill you yet. Tell me what you see?”

The old man ignored him.

Dread looked nervous as he fumbled with his words.

”Hurry!”

“I see a desperate fool consumed by evil”.

Dread’s boot kicked him in the gut, sending the old man to the floor. He gasped in pain, struggling to breathe.

“What do you see?” He grabbed the old man’s white flowing hair and forced him to his feet; bringing his face millimetres from the Dark Lord’s pale skin.

The old man smiled and said, “I see your death”.

Horror crossed Dread’s face as he released the old man and backed away. “That’s impossible. I’m immortal. I’m god!”

The old man, enjoying Dread’s torment continued. “Oh it gets better. Your death is at the hands of a child!”

Dread screamed and charged at the wise man. “Lies! Blasphemy! All of it!” He threw him to the ground once more before revealing a small dark blade from his sheath.

The old man bowed his head and waited for the blade to pierce flesh when a frenzied voice made both turn.

“Grand Shaman! No!” A smallish-framed appeared and charged, throwing himself upon the Dark Lord.

They tumbled.

“Yelan! No!” the Grand Shaman screamed.

Yelan scrambled towards his fallen mentor sobbing. “Don’t leave me wise one. Please”.

The Shaman placed a withered hand on his shoulder before urgently saying, “Yelan go. Write the words I have told you. Preach about the Dragon Fang Legend; it will bring hope to our people”.

Yelan protested, “But master …”

“Yelan that is an order. GO!”

Yelan scrambled hastily to his feet, and with one last look in his master’s tired eyes, ran. As he ran, he heard a scream, and the presence and protection he had always felt from his master was gone. The balance between good and evil had become one sided.


Chapter One:

I have found you at last!

Present day

The dream was the same.

A giant dragon stood before a small boy.

The boy slowly walked towards the Beast, arms outstretched, once again wanting to touch the rough scaly skin of the Great Beast. As he edged closer towards the Beast, a dark figure appeared before him, making him cease.

“Sam!” the voice screamed. Sam quoted silently the words that were spoken every time he dozed off.

“I have found you Sam! The legends are void; you will die …”

Even though his heart cried in terror at the Dark Lord’s words. His head remained calm. ‘Remember’ his mind silently told him. Sam calmed down and turned to face the Dragon.

It calmly looked in the boy’s direction, and baring its teeth destroyed the oncoming shadow.

A scream escaped the dark one’s lips, and like every night, Sam awoke gasping for breath, and struggling against his sheets.

*
Sam yawned and rubbed his tired eyes as he lumbered out of his old shack; pushing past the cow hide materiel that flowed in the slight wind, through the doorway.

His mother laughed as she greeted him, “It’s like you don’t sleep!”

“And a fine good morning to you,” he mumbled back, as he slouched himself upon a chair.

“Don’t go getting too comfortable,” his mum said as she handed him a piece of fruit for breakfast.

“But there’s no school …”

“Yes, but the village is an uproar. It’s Jax’s Celebration today. And there’s much to do, so go get ready!”

Sam mumbled angrily to himself as he threw to the ground the skin from the finished fruit before rubbing the juice from his hands into his brown, scruffy hair.

“Don’t do that Sam,” his mother said with a hint of disgust.

He slowly readied himself to walk towards the well to grab a drink and to wash his face, when his mother yelled behind him, “And if you’re going to the well, bring back some water for the soup I’m making!”

He sighed deeply and wished he were back asleep.

Even though he realized if he were asleep he would be plagued with those horrible dreams again; those dreams of torment. The dragon would appear. And Dread would … He shook the horrible thoughts of the Dark Lord from his memory.

Scooping up a bucket, he slowly trudged towards the well.

‘Oh well,’ Sam thought. ‘Today should be a good day. Jax is being knighted, and when that happens there’s lots of free food, and cakes and drink and other goodies’. But the downside was the boring speeches the adults thought were a necessity to any party. ‘The only thing their speeches do is kill the fun,’ he thought unhappily.

He arrived at the well, attached the bucket to the rope and slowly began to wind the bucket downwards towards the darkness beneath it. The rope he was grasping, suddenly slipped and made the bucket spiral out of control, causing a splash when it impacted the water.

Sam silently cursed, and hoped the old bucket was still intact. Just as he was about to wind the bucket upwards, a voice behind him made him pause in shock.

“Ah, Sam, I have found you at last!”


Chapter Two:

The Mysterious Woman


Sam whirled around attempting to catch the culprit of the mysterious voice.

“I have found you Sam. It has been a long search, but I must say you are … different from how I… imagined you”.

Sam began to edge nervously back towards the safety of his village, while the mysterious voice still criticized him.

“I mean … you are much weaker than I imagined. You don’t even have the handsome features of someone with this utmost importance should have. “Oh dear, this must be a mistake!”

Sam decided against running and replied in haste, “Are you afraid of saying those things to me in person? Afraid I’ll beat you?”

The voice ceased its critique of the pale boy.

Finally it spoke. Its voice sent a shiver down the boy’s spine as it quivered slightly with anger.

“Look around boy; and maybe next time you speak you will show me the respect I deserve”.

He followed the voices advice, and released a whimper; for what he saw were his friends, family, neighbours and strangers he had never met before, frozen.

He glanced from one person to another eyeing them down, begging them to move, if only one finger.

His glance stopped at a close friend, he had a cup halfway to his mouth, but never taking that sip that he longed for. He glanced at another person, this time his uncle. He looked like he was pocketing a muffin. His facial expression looked shocked and slightly guilty as someone in front him had busted his actions. The final person he noted was his mother. She was laughing. Her long, brown hair flowing in the wind.

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice quivering from nerves.

Her proud voice bragged to the boy.

“Who am I? I am someone that has been worshipped for many eons. I am someone that is compared and respected like the Gods. My power, to that of a mortal, is incomprehensible”.

Warmth circulated though his body, and a feeling of peace escalated through his emotions. He looked towards the direction where the voice had once spoken to him, and their standing in front of him was a beautiful woman clad in white.

She turned to face him and smiled. “I am a Shaman. A White Shaman”.

Sam stared; his eyes bulging from shock. “Are you going to say something? Don’t tell me I traveled all this way to find you’re mute as well.

“I … uh …” He stuttered trying to find the rights.

“You are a strange child, but they say you are the one”.

Finally he managed to speak; if only a single word. “One?”

The Shaman sighed and handed him a small parchment of paper with a bold statement scrawled upon it.

A child shall arise. He will come forth bearing the ‘Dragon Sword’ and using unmatched skill, will destroy the Dark Lord, ending his immortality and bringing peace to the world.

Sam read the writing twice and finally words came to his lips, as his perception of the truth dawned.

“I get it,” he laughed. “This is some kind of joke. You expect me to believe I’m a … Chosen One”.

The Shaman frowned. “This is no joke”.

“No it is, and all the villagers are in on it! And you. I must say for a second you had me going! You’re very good,” he laughed before turning his back on the Shaman. “But I have to go; I have to get ready”.

He looked back into the distance and to his delight found the villagers moving once more.

“All a joke …” he whispered; still trying to convince himself.

A scream wiped the smile from his face.

“Sam,” a weak voice behind him spoke. “He comes. Evil walks towards us!”

Sam turned to face the pale woman. Her once prideful stance was wavering. She was using all her strength to stand. Her eyes met his, and she spoke quickly in a raspy voice. “Don’t just stand there, run!”

Sam turned and ran.

He ran down the path, amongst the panicked people, stopping in the main square, thinking of his next move.

Spotting the church, he bolted towards it, hoping that Dread and his minions would be fearful of the gods. He doubted it.

Using strength fear had placed on him, he threw open the giant Oak doors and ran to a dark corner near the Altar.

Sobbing pitiful; Sam began to pray to his god; begging for protection. He shut his eyes and tried to block out the screams that echoed around the church. Somehow the noise was evident past the stonewalls and clear to his ears.

The screaming slowly faded and he wondered whether his people were dying, or too exhausted to continue their sobbing.

A familiar voice was suddenly heard bringing hope to Sam and to his people.

“Dread I command you to leave this village and its inhabitants!”

Sam recalled that it was Jax’s voice, the hero and saviour of the village. “Ah Jax, the ‘almighty’ hero that has vowed to put a stop to me!”

Sam noted sarcasm in the Dark Lords voice.

The Dark Lord continued to speak. “I will let you live Jax, and your pitiful people, if you let me have one small child. Is that not a fair proposal?”

Silence followed and Sam held his breath. He hoped that Jax refused that offer, for he had a sneaky suspicion that he was the child Dread longed for.

Finally Jax answered. “I refuse Dread, if that child you are seeking belongs to the village, then you will have to get through me to enter this village”.

Sam gave a sigh of relief, he was safe, he was rescued, he was …

A blood curdling scream interrupted his thoughts. Screams from the villagers followed and a disgusting decaying aroma wafted past his nose.

“Find that child and bring him to me!”

The search for the cowering child continued.

Seconds turned into minutes, minutes stretched into hours. Finally a voice was heard.

“Master we have searched the entire village”.

The voice slowly trailed off as he told his master the bad news.

“We have not found the …” A loud thud was heard before the voice could finish his sentence.

“Have you searched the Church?”

Silence followed.

“Fools! I can smell a small boy’s fear-ridden sweat. Search the Church!”

Bickering erupted between Dreads followers as who should be the one to disturb the gods.

A roar of frustration escaped Dread’s lips silencing those around him. A strange language alien to Sam’s ears was recited.

A loud crack echoed through the church as a pillar above him splintered. He looked nervously upwards and screamed, rolling to the side and missing a crashing pillar by mere millimeters.

Jumping to his feet, he bolted towards the exit and prayed that the two pillars stabilizing the door would hold. Holding his breath, he squeezed through before falling to the ground panting heavily.

The feeling of safety was only short lived however as a shadow fell over him.

“The way it should be. The Chosen One on his knees. Take him!”

Strong hands forced him to his feet. “No you misunderstand; I’m not the …” he tried to explain the mistake everyone kept making, but a rough piece of material was shoved in his mouth.

“Tie him behind the horses … and burn the village!” he laughed as Sam was forced to the ground and a rope was tied around his feet.

His mother’s futile attempts to save him, his village being set ablaze and his loved ones in a panicked frenzy, filled his poor tired mind.

The frightened, drowsy child tried to fight the growing urge to close his eyes and end the pain of being dragged.

But slowly he became unconscious and gave up hope for he was sure he was going to die.


Chapter Three:

The Great Battle

Sam’s tired, blood shot eyes jolted open as he recalled yesterday’s events.

He gasped as he took in his miserable surroundings.

He had been dumped in a small concrete prison with a wooden door as its only exit.

A small pebble hit him in the head catching his attention to an old man huddled in the corner.

He was unshaven boasting a scraggy white beard and a large scar scratched across his cheek.

His eyes nervously shifted from left to right and Sam wondered what kind of a past could cause that amount of paranoia.

“I’m warning you,” the old man croaked, raising a withered hand as an attempted weapon. “I’m not completely defenseless! And I won’t go down without a fight!”

He charged at the nervous boy making him scream and run to the wooden door begging for release.

“You think your tricks are going to lower my defenses ay? Well I’m not buying this scared child routine!”

He once again charged towards the gasping boy.

Sam sidestepped and the crazy old man ran headfirst into the wooden door.

He collapsed to the ground moaning.

“Fine! Finish me off! I’d rather be dead than stuck in here!” He held his hands up and gritted his teeth waiting for Sam to deliver a finishing blow.

“I think you misunderstand. I’m not here to hurt you”.

The old man opened one eye and asked relieved, “You’re not?”

“No, I got thrown in here as well!”

The old man laughed manically making Sam back away.

“I figured you were here to torture me. I mean you have to commit some kind of heavy duty crime against Dread to be thrown in this small cell. Who are you anyway?”

“I’m not sure”.

The old man laughed again making Sam cringe at the sight of his rotting teeth.

“Not know who you are? Everyone knows who they are!”

“Well I don’t. Yesterday I thought I was a normal boy. Then some woman appeared, claimed she was a being of immense power and stated I was some Chosen One destined to kill the Lord of all darkness. So you can see why I have an identity crisis”.

The old man didn’t laugh at Sam’s blatant humour; instead he muttered, “Oh, you’re one of those kooks”.

“One of what?” Sam queried.

“One of those crazy people that believe in that jargon about Dread’s defeat. How many times do I have to tell you people? It’s only a story so you people will have some kind of hope to cling to. I myself am more of a realist. I know Dread will never be defeated and I accept that”.

Sam looked away as the man’s opinions sunk in.

‘He’s probably right,’ he thought unhappily.

Out of the corner of his eye, he observed the strange mans constant fidgeting.

Finally giving into the curiosity about the man’s past and his strange ways; Sam rudely bombarded him with questions.

“Who are you? And why do you have a large scar on your cheek?”

The old man, annoyed at his sudden interrogation grunted.

“I am ashamed of my past. But as you are another absurd believer in the false legend; I will give you a testament of why that legend only brings death and misery”.

Sam positioned himself on the cold stone floor and listened with interest as the man told Sam a tale of a massive battle that was waged many years ago, all for the sake of a superstition.

* * * *

“We shall win! Dread will feel the wrath of our country against him! He will know that when a country is united, they can do the impossible!”

The speaker paused for a moment, staring into each individual’s eager eyes before continuing.

“Tonight Dread will be crushed into the ground beneath our victorious feet!”

The crowd cheered. They began to chant out the speakers name for they could see victory.

Queen Julia looked at them with a forced smile on her face. She lifted her hands and slowly edged backwards through her castle. The cheering continued, and the praise of their beloved queen was clearly heard.

She began to close the blinds, when a high-pitched voice quickly spoke.

“Your majesty, I shall close the blinds”.

She smiled and signaled for him to be seated. “Leon,” she said with gratitude. “Do not be ridiculous you have done enough for me already”.

Leon sat unhappily in a chair upset that his queen did not want his help.

Julia walked to the windows and closed them, blocking out the cheering.

Leon noticing his queen’s unhappiness and asked, “my queen, should you not be happy? Tonight we lead the attack against Dread. He shall not have enough power to destroy our army. We have a guaranteed victory awaiting”.

The queen looked at him, her eyes moist. “Leon, my dear Leon. Have you heard of the Dragon Fang Legend?”

Leon looked at her curiously.

“Of course I have my queen. My father used to speak of it quite regularly. He was a firm believer. Myself, I have my doubts”.

The queen looked away.

“Yes Leon, we all have our doubts”.

She stood to her feet. “I wish to be alone now, I need time to think”.

Leon nodded, obeying his queen’s orders and left her room.

She walked slowly to her cabinet and reached for a clean piece of paper. She read it many times before calling for her most respected knight.

“Robert! Please come to me now!”

Footsteps were heard and a worried voice followed.

“My queen, are you alright”.

He opened the door and looked at her anxiously.

She smiled at him and issued an order.

“Robert, prepare the horseman. We shall ride into battle and attack Dread at once!”

Robert looked at her still worried.

“My Queen, you are coming with us? We cannot risk your life”.

Queen Julia looked at him sadly.

“I must ride Robert, Dread’s defeat rests with me”.

Robert looked at the ground confused, not knowing what his queen meant.

“Alright my queen. We shall ride at once. I shall prepare the horses”.

He left without saying another word. Queen Julia again looked at the parchment she held and clenching it tightly followed the confused and worried knight.

“The prophecy must be completed,” she whispered, already knowing the outcome of the battle.

* * *
Screams were heard.

Fire from the burning battlefield caused the tired knight to close his eyes.

“The battle is nearly over,” a voice said to him.

He opened his eyes and stared at the frail figure that was determined to stand strong.

“My queen,” he said, his voice quivering from pain.

“Dread’s victory is inevitable, we will not survive the night”.

He wiped away the tears that were forming in his eyes.

“But we can escape. I can get you to safety and you can live to one day see Dread’s defeat!”

Queen Julia looked at him smiling.

“I wish it was that easy,” she said quietly.

They both became quiet, staring into each other’s eyes.

Screams from the battlefield were heard and Julia spoke, more in an effort to smother the torment her people were enduring.

“Have you heard of the Dragon Fang Legend?” Robert looked at his queen in confusion before saying

“Yes my queen, that name is familiar”.

She smiled and handed him a piece of paper.

As his eyes scanned the parchment she quoted silently the wording as if she had read it many times.

He looked up at his queen’s face in horror.

“You see my faithful knight,” she said bravely.

“That is the reason I must ride in this Great Battle”.

Robert began to sob as he clutched on to his beloved queen’s hand.

“Please no!” he cried over and over. She wiped the tears from his mud filled eyes and drew her sword.

“For the Legend!” she yelled.

Robert too stood to his feet.

“For the legend,” he repeated.

* * * *

“My queen was killed. Dread gave me this scar as a reminder of what happens when anyone attempts a fool-hardy crusade against him”.

Sam gazed at the defeated knight with new admiration. But one thing still puzzled him. Hungry to feed his curiosity he asked, “Why did Queen Julia believe she had to ride into battle for the legends to be completed?”

Robert reached into his pockets and handed Sam a dirty parchment of paper.

“Because she read this”.

A crusade will be fought against the King of Darkness. Many lives will be lost, and much blood will be spilt. When Royal blood hits the ground, it will mean the end of this Great Battle, but the start of the Chosen Ones destiny.

“It’s all jargon though. That legend turned my queen into a zombie of false hope. It ended her life and slaughtered my people and tomorrow it will end your life. If Dread firmly believes you are the ‘Chosen One’ I’m sure he will rid this land of you immediately. Most executions happen at sunrise”.

His voice trailed off into a mumble as the old man returned to the corner and began gently rocking back and fourth, his eyes still shifting from left to right and his hands fidgeting uncontrollably.

Sam still dazed at hearing Robert’s announcement of his inevitable demise; slouched to the ground and for hours tried to have one last sleep.

Finally sleep did arrived; but even a deep sleep could not separate him from Dread’s presence … for he dreamt that dream …

Chapter Four

The Execution

The sound of an opening lock was heard, awakening Sam from his restless slumber.

The wooden door swung open and a fat guard appeared.

Sam wondered how that oversized brute expected to fit through that small door; but somehow much to Sam’s disappointment, he managed.

He lumbered over to the small boy; still pretending to sleep and grunted, “Wakey Wakey” before kicking him in the gut.

Sam groaned in pain and rolled on to his side.

“Don’t look like much of a Chosen One do ya kid?” he grumbled as he grabbed him by the hair forcing him to his feet.

As he pushed him towards the doorway Sam flashed one last look in Robert’s direction and noticed Robert banging his head on the wall, “Your Chosen One is dead, my queen” he mumbled before bursting into a chorus of loud moaning.

* * * *

The sight was amazing. Thousands of creatures had emerged to see the Chosen One destroyed.

When Sam appeared, the crowd cheered, forming a pathway for him to walk down.

The Brute from behind him pushed him down the direction of the path.

The creatures pulled his hair and spat at him.

Further in front of him was a large device situated near a small case of steps.

They were going to hang him.

He was pushed further along the corridor of creatures till finally he reached an opening.

The crowd’s noise ceased as a loud voice begun to speak.

“The Chosen One is going to die!”

Sam looked up towards a balcony that was situated above the screaming mass of creatures.

“The Gods thought they could stop me”.

He could make out a victorious smile forming on Dread’s dark blue lips.

“They foolishly thought that by putting their faith in a small child, he would somehow destroy the king of darkness!”

The crowd broke into laughter and once again began scratching and pulling the frightened boys hair.

Dread raised his arms to silence the rioting crowd.

“But before we void the legends; let us have some fun as we verify to the God’s their foolish mistake!”

The crowd cheered as the brute that had walked Sam from his prison appeared holding a large leather whip, with small barbs attached to the end of the straps.

Sam closed his eyes and prayed.

A pain suddenly hit him the back, slicing into his thoughts and making him stumble forward.

He screamed.

The whip hit him again and warm blood trickled down his back.

The third time the whip hit, he fell to the ground panting, his back feeling cold from his hacked up body.

The brute forced him to his feet and punched him in the ribs.

Sam released a gasp in an attempt to fill his winded lungs with air.

The brute whipped him again; this time across his face; scarring him indefinitely.

Blood trickled down his nose; making the crowd cheer in excitement and throw stones in his direction.

The brute slapped him in the face, and Sam once again fell to the ground crying weakly begging for them to stop.

He raised his foot above the boy’s mutilated face, ready to bring it crushing down when Dread’s voice made him pause.

“Enough. Let us finally prove to the God’s that this is no Chosen One. He is merely a child”.

Dread paused as he savoured his next words.

“Execute him!” Sam was dragged to the device and a rough piece of rope was tied around his neck.

He jammed his bloody eyes shut and waited for the rope to tighten.

The noises around him echoed in his ears. The crowd cheering, Dread’s heavy panting. Even the blood that trickled down his back made a heavy splash as it hit the ground.

Then there was silence.

After waiting for a few minutes, he started to get agitated at Dread for toying with his life.

‘Just do it already … please …’ he begged silently.

A voice spoke.

“Sam, run, now, my power will not hold”. Sam dazed from lack of blood, argued silently inside of his head.

‘Who is that voice that is disturbing me? I just want to sleep!’

“Sam don’t be a fool. Escape while you can!

‘Go away, it’s over …’

“I was right. You’re no Chosen One; you are weak!”

Sam eyes bolted open and looking up towards the balcony he saw Dread frozen, his arms out stretched, that same horrible smirk on his face.

He then looked down towards a pale woman gasping on the floor.

The Shaman mouthed the words run, and Sam finally taking her advice unhooked the rope and sprinted towards the forest.

Each step made the pain in his back burn, but he ignored it.

He ran till he could hear no more chanting, until he couldn’t feel the evil aura that illuminated from Dread.

Finally when his gut was heaving in and out, and he felt like he was going to spew from the unfamiliar feeling of pain, he reached a grassy ditch and collapsed, meeting the sleep he had longed for.

But even in his dreams he was tormented with pain and images of Dread cursing him and vowing the Chosen Ones death.



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