The Dragon of Prali

By Davidson L. Haworth

For years, the inhabitants of Prali, a small Italian mountain town near the French border, lived in peace. They believed that danger would never come to them. However, deep within a mountain cave, a one-of-a-kind dragon feasts on rats and mice living within the cave. While he grows, he discovers this is not enough. He craves the taste of cow, oxen, and humans.

The last of his kind, the dragon launches a brutal attack on the people of Prali. After the terrorizing havoc of the dragon. Bernard, a young Franciscan monk; Mary, a misplaced English girl; and the arrogant knight Leonardo. Join forces to eliminate the dragon and bring peace to the people of Prali.

Only the courage and strength of the three dragon hunters will save the world from destruction. As they travel through the mysterious forests, and deep caverns of the region. They discover the secrets of the hidden lair and an underworld that time has forgotten. They journey to the farthest reaches of the dragons lair to face their ultimate destiny.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jan 29, 2010
• ISBN: 9781450201469

Davidson L. Haworth

Davidson L. Haworth has been at the forefront of the fantasy genre for over two decades and strives to keep the genre in popular culture with his “The Defenders of Prali” trilogy. He has also appeared and toured on a global scale throughout Europe including Russia and Ukraine where he is considered one of the top fantasy authors of the 21st century. His lectures at Moscow State University, and Taras Shevchenko National University of Kyiv have advanced the genre of historical fantasy to new heights. In the United States Davidson is the only author to ever conduct book signings on more than one occasion at the prestigious National Steinbeck Center, and is the first writer to reinvent book tours by conducting his signings at pop culture conventions. Davidson enjoys meeting new faces and making new friends on his mission to spread the genre of fantasy. His short stories and novels is reminisce of W. Somerset Maugham. Davidson lives with his wife and two children in San Jose, California.

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Copyright © 2010 by Davidson L. Haworth

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4502-0145-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4502-0147-6 (dj)

ISBN: 978-1-4502-0146-9 (ebk)

iUniverse rev. date: 12/16/2009

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:

For

Trinity and Xavier....

Chapter 1

Humble Beginnings And Deadly Consequences.

The dawn of time large creatures walked the earth, through time these creatures developed. During the time of the dinosaur and before the dawn of man, flying beasts flew through the sky. These great creatures were known as fire breathers. The fire breathers are the reason for the extinction of the Pterodactyl, and later through time the entire dinosaur kingdom. The fire breathers were top of the food chain, feasting on all that they desired. Centuries went by and eventually the fire breathers faced a new and upcoming species......Man. The homosapien was the first encounter of intelligent life for the fire breathers. Eventually man began to become the top of the food chain. First stealing eggs of the fire breathers, then eventually gaining the knowledge to kill the large creatures. The fire breathers, like the dinosaurs before them began to dwindle in numbers. Soon man would create spears, swords, shields, the human was advancing. The fire breathers became popular in human cultures, specifically in Asia. Soon the name of dragon would attach itself to the fire breathers. Dragon the title originating from Anglo-French naming the creatures Dragun, from the earlier version of the name from Latin, Draco. The dragon became legend in myth and story as they soon began to disappear in the world. In the early days, and until the Dragon became extinct. Men would hunt down the dragon, usually in the form for searching for a dragons nest and taking the eggs for destruction. Man formed a story of legend. A man shall never eat of the dragon egg, If so the man who ate the egg would become deformed and into the service of the dragons. The human servant stealing the children during the night, and feeding the children to the dragons. This would save the dragon the time to hunt down food for itself. Man did not dared eat of the egg.

Dragon eggs and dragons in general officially became extinct around the year 200A.D.. Dragons lived in the lands of Asia and parts of Europe and Britannia. Asia held onto the legends more so then the lands of Europe. Europe used the dragon to glorify heroes or great warriors. Telling tales of men who would hunt and kill the dragons. The story of Saint George and the dragon, from fourth century literature glamourizes man claiming dominance over the dragons. Where Asia glorified the dragon itself in the depiction of art. In the glory days of the dragon, there were a variety of different races of dragon, Depending on the climate. In the lands of cold climates you would have a snow dragon, or some call them white dragons, or ice dragons. In warmer climates you would have fire dragons. Fire dragons had their power from the fire they would unleash from their jaws, warm blooded with a burning desire to use their fire breath for defense and too also use it to cook their victims, then eat the victims, A warm meal. The white dragon was the opposite of its fire cousin. The white dragon would swoop down and grab it's prey, freezing the victim with it's claws. This was used to store the meat and keep it fresh, something the fire dragon could not do. Later the white dragon, once hungry, would use it's fire breath to melt the victim and choose to eat the carcass fresh or a hot meal. One more dragon that is popular in legend, but not as popular as the white or fire dragon, is the forest dragon. This dragon, as it's title, lives in the forests of Europe and parts of Asia. This creature is short in stature and uses stealth. An adult forest dragon only grows to the length of 5 feet tall, and slender. Man attempted to make these Dragons pets, but failed to do so. These were wild beasts that could not be tamed.

Deep within the caverns of the Italian mountains, near the French borders. A lone egg remained hidden. Surrounded by ice that never thawed due to high elevations within the mountain range. The egg laid dormant for hundreds of years. Dormant through the age of earliest man. This lone egg is the last of a species gone extinct. The last of it's kind in all the world, yet unique that it is also the first of it's kind, or soon will be due to future natural occurrence's. Soon the world would know a new name in terror. The egg laying in the cavern was nestled comfortable within the ice. Unfortunately for the inhabitants of the Italian mountains and the surrounding areas, the mountain where the egg laid within the caves was an actual volcano. Laying dormant for hundreds of years. Time had forgotten the volcano, and the last of its violent eruptions. To all it was just a large mountain with endless caverns that reached to the center of the world. What the inhabitants didn't know was that it was previous eruptions that formed the caverns. Suddenly without warning grumbling began to fill the valleys, surrounding the mountain with violent sounds. From atop of the mountain, smoke begins to puff from its summit. The grumbling persisted for days as the inhabitants look up towards the alps with a slight disturbance. The people thought danger would not come to them.

The nearest town to the mountain was a small town named Prali. The town paid no mind to the mountain, all thought the sounds and smoke would soon pass, and all would be well. There were few who had left the town fearing the mountains violent sounds, but not enough to make an exodus impact among the population. Days turned into weeks until on that one fateful night as a bright red and orange color began to form on the mountain peak. Smoke flowed from the mountain uncontrollably. Within the mountain, the egg of the dragon, the same egg that laid dormant for hundreds of years. With the heat of the mountains flowing lava, as the lava rose to the peak of the mountain, from the earth's mighty core . The egg began to thaw from its icy prison, shaking lose. The heat melting the ice, the egg now completely dislodged as it slowly rolled through the darkened cavern, only lit by the distant lava flow. Suddenly the egg rolled into a small patch of icy water, falling to a lower cavern, the egg now below the lava flow of the mountain. A drop of lava seeps through the ceiling of the cavern, and now falls upon the egg. The egg remains silently still upon the ice. With the heat of the lava and the cold of the ice, the egg begins to crack. Slowly the creature from within the egg begins to move and breaks the outer shell, freeing itself and becoming part of the new world. A world that his ancestors have no knowledge of. He is a new breed of dragon in a changing world of man. The small adolescent dragon finally breaks free from the egg and is adjusting his eyes to his new world.

For years this small dragon would live within the caves of the mountain of the desolate and dangerous Italian mountains. He would feed from the rats and mice who lived within the caves, and drink from streams within the cavern. This dragon was a one of a kind.

Years later near the small village of Prali, several miles from the Italian mountains, laid a Franciscan monastery. The Franciscan order during this time was a new and exciting way to evangelize the faith. This certain order that laid near the town of Prali. Home to several brothers and priests. These brothers and priests came from all over Europe and the known world, from Ireland to the holy land. Still the order was facing new challenges due to the recent passing of their founder. One monk belonging to the order, and living within the monastery was brother Bernard. Bernard was a slightly tall young man, but meek in nature. Brown hair and athletic in build, but yet gentle. Face scruffy with a bit of a beard, fair haired. His duties in the order was simple. Do the work that the other brothers wouldn't do. For example Bernard's day may consist of rubbing clean the brass railings within the church, or sweeping the floors of the monastery. Bernard did all the thankless jobs. It seemed the world was at peace, except for Bernard. He grew irritated at his duties and wanted more. Something of great responsibility.

This morning brother Bernard was busy milking the cows of the monastery. The sun was shining and the birds flew over head singing the praises of the first day of spring. All was well in the world, all was well with Bernard. Except for his dislike for his duties to the monastery. The stench of the cows as they flatus and fill the stable with an unwanted scents of displeasure. Bernard milked away, filling up the bucket with fresh milk for tonight's dinner for his brothers. Bernard looked at the cow he was milking.

Almost done you filthy animal.

Bernard spattered towards the cow. Suddenly the cow looks away from Bernard and lets out a monstrous sound coming from its back end. Then Bernard smelling the stench only a slight moment later.

Awwful you horrid animal!

Bernard disciplining the farm animal with his words of displeasure. Rising from his bent state of milking the cow, he looks around him in the dark stable. He walks around to the cows back end, and slaps the cow from behind. The cow lets out a crying moo, as Bernard walks away with his bucket filled with milk that he had taken from the cows this morning.

Bernard walks back towards the monastery kitchen, walking steady as he could. Making sure not to drop an once of milk. Bernard thought it wise to hold the milk bucket with two hands, and pressing it against his chest. He walks with extreme caution, and turning the corner into the kitchen. When suddenly a black cat runs between his legs, darting out the kitchen door and down the three steps, between Bernard's legs. Bernard trips as the cat scrambles to safety, falling onto the small steps leading into the kitchen, and onto his back. Bernard laid there, his back upon the kitchen steps, milk covered his body from head to chest. He slowly rises and looks into the bucket.

Just enough for a few cups of milk.

Bernard said to himself as he tries to look positive about the situation. Bernard felt someone looking at him, he felt this ominous sense.

Looking up he noticed the monastery cook looking down on him.

Bernard!! Cant you do anything right?

The cook who was not a brother of the order, but a hired hand from the village. The cook being bald, and heavy in stature. His name, Anthony, named after the great saint. Bernard looks up and gives an insecure smile, then rising to his feet, handing the bucket of milk to Anthony.

I'm so sorry Anthony.....The cat had jumped out of the kitchen causing me to tumble a bit.

Bernard doing his best to explain his plight. Anthony just shaking his head.

How could you Bernard? You blaming a cat for your clumsiness. For Pete sake you're a Franciscan man!

Anthony takes the bucket from Bernard and looks down into the bucket at what is left of the milk. Anthony shakes his head and turns his back towards Bernard.

Bernard looking down, noticing the milk upon his chest, and thinking it would be wise to change his clothes, but he remembered he didn't have another habit to just pull over his head. He then suddenly remembered that he had wash to be done. With his great disappointment he picks up a small stone from the ground near the kitchen door and with great effort, throws it into a bush. Suddenly from behind the bush, Bernard heard a loud scream. Instantly a head pops up from behind the bush. One of the brothers looking dead straight at Bernard.

I was meditating!

The brother declares.

Bernard feeling worse then before. Hearing the words meditation, it gave him a great idea.

Maybe God wanted me to hit the other brother seeking solace behind the bushes. It did give me an idea.

He decides to go to the chapel and pray before doing the wash for the entire monastery. The entire monastery was one large building looking over the small Italian village. In the morning the sun would rise just behind the monastery. The local villagers looked upon it as a sign from God every morning, that a new day dawned and that the monastery would always be there to help the inhabitants. Bernard's dream is to someday do the work that his brothers perform. To go door to door and preach the word of God. Maybe to help those in need at the local hospital, or at times just to play with the children in the streets. Like most monks Bernard was simple and kind hearted. All he ever wanted to do was to help others in need. He felt that that day would never come and he was destined to be a novice monk for the rest of his days.

The chapel, the largest room in the monastery. The perimeter walls were adorned with great stain glass windows of great saints. Stain glass windows were used to tell bible stories to all who entered the church. This was done due to the fact that most of the villagers didn't know how to read. The windows would be able to preach to them without words. It spoke to the villagers with sight. Bernard dipping his hand in the font of holy water before entering the church, as he crosses himself, he whispers.

Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost.

The stain glass window were from left to right from Bernard as he approaches the altar. The first windows were of Saint Patrick and Saint George. Bernard turned to each of them saying.

Good day boys.

He walks a few steps more, and comes to the windows of Saint Clare and Saint Bridget, bowing to each.

A real pleasure ladies.

Bernard continues to walk down the aisle of the church till he come to the church kneelers before the altar. Before him is a Franciscan cross called the San Domiano. It is just a replica of the original, but it didn't matter to Bernard. He kneeled before the altar crossing himself once more before clasping his hands together in prayer. He gave a deep sigh and thought of all the troubles of the morning. The day was just beginning, but Bernard feeling it is time for the sun to go down. Being a Franciscan brother it was not a relaxed way of life. Bernard would rise in the morning with the other monks around four in the morning. Prayers would be conducted in the church at four - thirty. Breakfast was at six, and work until noon. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner was always served in the main dining hall. After lunch would be more prayers, then more work till dinner. In the evening it would be more prayers, and then after nine in the evening would be bed. Work and prayers, that's all Bernard ever knew. He was a product of a devote religious family. His parents would go to daily mass, and he would serve as an altar boy until he finished his study at the age of sixteen. All Bernard knew was the church. He had never traveled, he knew nothing in the ways of the world. He knew the world by speaking to his fellow brothers who where from different kingdoms around Europe.

Bernard looks up towards the Franciscan cross above the altar.

My good Father. I ask that someday I may prove myself to the world that there is more to me then fetching milk and polishing brass, and cleaning floors. I want to make a difference in the world. I want to feel as if I am contributing to my community and to my brothers.

Bernard pausing to hear the silence of the church, then continues to pray.

Holy God give me a sign that there is more to me then a servant of my brothers.

Bernard suddenly hears a sound, as if coming from the altar. He crosses himself with lightning speed in hope for that glorious sign from God.

Brother Bernard! Don't you think you need to get to your work? you may pray after lunch.

Walking from the side of the altar, entering the church was father Giovanni. It was his voice that Bernard had heard. Giovanni was a tall priest, but portly shaped, with a long beard and slow moving. He always smelled like fine wine, Bernard always thought.

The disappointment on Bernard's face was evident. He wanted the sign, then his heart sunk even more when he realized that maybe that was the sign. Bernard rose from the church kneeler and said.

Yes father Giovanni, Thank you for reminding me of what God wants me to do.

Father Giovanni glaring at Bernard, as if Bernard was lazy and just trying to get out of his work by pretending to pray. Father Giovanni had watched Bernard until he had left the church. It was back to the kitchen for Bernard.

Brother Bernard walking the pathway to the kitchen hears screams of horror down below in the small town, some distance away from the monastery. He turns to look at what the