The Rise of the Dragon King

By Lightning Yumeku, Andrew Lee, Andrew Seabert and 2 more

On the continent of Pallas, at the end of the Time of Darkness, a prophecy appeared on the Cage of Tears the gate sealing the dark god Silvak in another dimension. The prophecy told of the events leading to when Silvak would be free again. It has been 500 years since the gate was sealed, and slowly the prophecy is coming to pass.
The War of Galvos, the bloodiest war in the history of Pallas rages across the lands. The Dragon King Galvos recruits his forces from the fallen kingdoms he conquers with promises of peace and unity. However, as his power grows something sinister lies in the shadows.
On a mystic island hidden from the eyes of men, the goddess, Auraka, charges Sabra Dragonrider the princess of the Silvar to seek out three sacred blades. Along her journey, Sabra is joined by Garrion, a troubled warrior, Taurus, a daring minotaur, Kyric, a noble lord, and Mun, a kind-hearted giant. Meanwhile, within the ranks of the Dragon King’s armies, Heartsblood Dragonsire, the half-dragon wizard, strives to prove his worth as the son of one of the great dragons. And Jade Majir, a former centurion, seeks to bring peace and order the lands under the control of Galvos. When Jade and Heartsblood are brought together to seek out the swords for Galvos, the very things that brought them into the service of the Dragon King will be tested. Sabra and her small band clash against Jade and Heartsblood to win all three blades. This story creates a legend, known after as The Rise of the Dragon King.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9781312663039

Book preview

Rise

of the Dragon King

Written by Lightning Yumeku

Cover Art & Graphic Design by Andrew Lee

Illustrations by Andrew Seabert, Berdian Torres & Kenny Wong

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, locations, and events portrayed in the book are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally.

The Rise of the Dragon King

Copyright © 2023 3 Degrees Films, LLC All rights reserved.

Published by Lightning Yumeku / 3 Degrees Films

ISBN 978-1-312-66303-9

This book is dedicated to the memory of Avery Hackly and Robin The smoker of poles" without you two many of these stories wouldn't be as good.

Rise

of the Dragon King

Written by Lightning Yumeku

Cover Art & Graphic Design by Andrew Lee

Illustrations by Andrew Seabert, Berdian Torres & Kenny Wong

The Prophecy of the Rose and the Flame

A time of darkness will once again shadow the bright sun.

The cage of tears will seek to be opened again, Seven seeds will grow to entangle their own roots.

Those that sacrifice themselves will save their own soil. Those that seek to secure their roots will be uprooted.

In the tide of war, two will emerge to float upon the surface.

One rooted like a tree, the other swaying like a reed in the wind,

One to hold the flame, the other will be saved by a rose. One grows in the dark, pricking the hand that tends it. One grows in the light but does not reach for the heavens.

The meeting of the two will mark the final days of the world, One will choose to bring the world into darkness.

One will choose to save the world from the past. Only one will wield the three blades that are Trios. Before the cage of tears, all answers will be known.

T A B L E O F C O N T E N T S

P R O L O G U E

Prologue: The Brewing Storm

The sky was not yet blue, as rose-colored clouds-streaked patterns across the morning sky. Kyrinos, the capitol city of Tonluth, sat atop a large hill and overlooked a wide plain. A small town huddled outside the keep gates and farms dotted along the outskirts. It was to be a morning like any other morning for Kyrene Dragonaard. His wife lay still in the bed. Her stomach slightly bulging, their newborn child was growing within her.

Kyrene stood looking out the window of his royal sleeping chamber. He ran his fingers through his black hair that made a spiky crown on his head and stretched. Kyrene’s sharp green eyes looked over the keep as he took in the spring air. He then looked to the distant mountains that formed the natural barrier of his kingdom to the east; he knew that beyond those mountains a war was raging. Kyrene was glad that the tides of bloodshed had not yet visited his people. He sighed as he moved to his armoire. As he opened it, there was a knock on the door.

He grumbled to himself walking to the door.

My lord, a scout has arrived from the north. He brings most urgent news. The voice coming from the other side of the door was that of Marguiles, his most trusted servant. Kyrene opened the door.

What is the news? Kyrene searched Marguiles’s wizened face.

Though he had never studied magic, Marguiles had a wizardly way about him. In truth, Marguiles was born in Kadria, a country to the south. All those born within those borders had some inborn magical talent. Marguiles’ talent was in fact most useful to the royal family, for he could discern truth from lies. He was the court truthsayer and had served the royal family since before Kyrene was born.

He had said this matter cannot divulged be except in your presence, m’lord. He says he carries a message from Goland. Though it is impossible, for we both know that Goland is dead. But the scout does speak the truth. I suggest caution; there is an air of sorcery that surrounds him.

Kyrene hadn’t heard the name Goland since his childhood.

My Lord, what should I do? Marguiles looked at Kyrene. The young lord was distant, and his eyes stared into some unseen place. Kyrene’s mind was moving farther from their conversation; catching himself he steeled his expression.

I will see him in my reading chambers. Post a double guard on the room. I will be along shortly.

Yes, m’lord. Marguiles bowed and stepped away.

Kyrene closed the door. He looked at his wife, who was still soundly sleeping. Kyrene wondered how a scout could bring a message from a man who had been dead for more than fifty years. Kyrene threw a leather vest over his shoulders and donned a light robe. He kissed his wife and headed into the corridor.

2

Kyrene walked the corridors of the keep for a while before coming to stand before the reading room. Two guards stood on either side of the door, with two others standing opposite of them on the other wall of the hallway. They all saluted as Kyrene approached. He looked at the door and nodded.

The guards opened the door for him. Inside sat a boy, no older than thirteen. Kyrene looked past the boy to a great one and a half handed sword hanging over the fireplace. The sword seemed to burn with a low golden green glow. Marguiles was sitting having tea with the boy. A single guard was posted by the fireplace.

The room was filled with chairs from different regions of Tonluth, some crudely made of wood, while others were padded with animal skins or soft fabrics. Books from every corner of Pallas lined the walls. The ceiling was not high, but the shelves were deep. Kyrene had grown up in this room. As a child he had spent many hours on end reading history, geography, legends, and warfare tactics. This room had been his entire world, and the books it housed were his only friends. He slowly crossed to his favorite chair as the guard shut the door behind him.

The boy looked up and stood, then kneeled low before Kyrene.

My lord, it is an honor. I have traveled with a heavy burden, and it is with bad tidings that I find myself in your presence today. The boy spoke politely.

Marguiles, who is this boy? Kyrene said, taking a seat by the fireplace.

His name is Jovan. He is the squire to one of your knights in the north. But more than that, I do not know. Marguiles said. His face was still and expressionless.

So, Jovan, why do you travel so far from your home? Has something befallen my men there? If so, why have they not sent a proper messenger? Kyrene stared at the boy.

I bring a message from Goland. He is the one who slew my master. He says that The dragonbane must not be raised, or Tonluth will fall. He will come as he did on your father’s day. He trusts that you will make the right choice." Evan’s eyes rolled up into his head. His face went flush, and he passed out. Marguiles caught the boy before he hit the floor.

An enchantment! Kyrene stood up.

The boy was only a messenger, but to use such magic on a child. Marguiles said holding the boy up.

I had my doubts of how he could have made it here on his own. Kyrene grunted. I agree, m’ lord. But what can this man claiming to be Goland want? Marguiles

picked up the boy and handed him off to the soldier, who took him away.

When they were alone, Marguiles moved to the fireplace and breathed deeply.

It no doubt is a trick of one of those children of Hedrian. They mean to try to pull us out of neutrality. But I will not endanger my people in their bloody feud. Kyrene said angrily.

Lord Kyrene, how would they know of Goland or even use his name. He is dead and has been so for many years. And this talk of your father’s time, I am afraid I am at a loss. Marguiles tried to turn his young lord’s thoughts to deeper patterns in the puzzle.

If their armies come, I will meet them, but I will not ask my people fight for selfish pride. Kyrene pounded his fist into his hand.

But, what about this strange messenger? And what more, an even stranger message, m’ lord? Why does he speak of the Dragonbane?

Kyrene did not heed Marguiles as he swung open the door to the room.

Prepare my mount! I ride to the north. I must see what can be done for the men there. And perhaps find for myself a clue of this all. Kyrene looked back at the sword that hung above the fireplace. He noticed now that there was no glow. The light had faded. He shook his head. Had it been that long since his father’s days?

3

A week later, Kyrene and a select group from his elite arrived on horseback at the northern border of Tonluth. There they found the ruins of the outpost. The stone buildings were melted, the ground blackened and the smell of rotting corpses still hung in the air. Kyrene shook his head as he looked at the ruins of the outpost. He sent two men ahead to look for survivors. After an hour, they reported no life.

Suddenly, the horses all began to act agitated. As the men tried to calm them, they felt the hairs on their back of their necks standing on end. Kyrene put his hand to his sword as he looked skyward. A large red dragon lowered out of the sky with a single rider on its back.

The great beast flapped its wings majestically, as it lowered itself from the sky. The men stood in fear and awe for dragons had not been seen on the continent of Pallas since Kyrene’s father’s time. The men all steadied their horses, as the dragon landed in front of them.

Kyrene looked up at the rider. He was wearing what looked to be a helmet shaped like a dragon skull. A heavy cloak was thrown about his shoulders and he wore a breastplate of dark steel. Finally, the rider climbed down from his mount and walked toward the gathered men.

I knew you would come, Dragonaard. A deep commanding voice came from within the

helmet.

Who are you? And by what manner do you find yourself to command dragons? Kyrene replied.

I was once Goland, your father’s friend and companion. But I am he no longer; I am Galvos, Dragon King of Draedun, land of the dragons. I have come here today to offer you and your people peace. My armies are waging war against the children of Hedrian. We mean only to bring peace to their constant bickering. But to show that I have no ill will toward you, I offer you a choice.

What is it you really want? It is obvious by the destruction here, that this was only a warning or rather a sign of what damage you could bring. Kyrene felt his sword grow hot on his side.

Yes, young Dragonaard. I bring you a warning from my own lips. Keep your hand still and I will not bring war to your doors. You can die an old man like your father and your child will live to see his place on your throne. But if you travel beyond your borders and Tonluth will be butchered like all the others who stand in my way. Galvos grinned beneath his helmet.

Kyrene’s thoughts went to his child, yet unborn. How did this fiend know of his child? What dark sorcery was at work that a dead man stood before him?

But then, Kyrene’s thoughts went to his people, those that had died here at the northern border and also of those close to the capitol. He unsheathed his sword. It glowed with a bright green light. The dragon took a step back. Galvos smile turned to gritting teeth under his helmet.

I will not submit, nor will my people. Bring your armies, your dragons, and whatever else evil lies on your accursed island. You will fall beneath the might of my sword. Kyrene shouted.

So be it. Your father was a wiser man. Vagreth, destroy them. Galvos said looking back at the dragon.

Yesss, my Lord Galvos. The dragon opened its mouth and breathed crimson flames at the assembled knights.

Slayer of the ancient wyrm, I summon your power! Kyrene raised his sword and leapt into the air.

The green light of the sword shone brightly.

The red dragon whipped back its head in fear, for it did know the name of that sword.

This was the sword that had cleaved the mighty dark dragons. This was the sword that had taken many great dragons to their graves. A sword to be feared by Vagreth Flamespear, as the light of the sword fought through the flame and cut him down.

A loud cry shook the earth as the dragon fell and Kyrene stood before it. He turned to face Galvos, but the dark knight had disappeared. Kyrene looked down at the dragon, then up to the sky. He could feel the winds changing. He could sense the icy grip of winter, but he knew it was only the beginning of spring. Today, the war had begun.

4

Kyrene returned to his keep in the capitol city of Kyrinos. It would not be long before the forces of the Dragon King would be at his doors. For now, he too had entered the War of Galvos, and his kingdom, like the others, would fight it alone.

Deserted Child

On a mystic island, hidden from the eyes of humans for thousands of years, lies the city of Eldir. It is the home of the Silvar, a proud and noble race that descended from the clouds many thousands of generations ago. The city is made of crystal spires with arcs of glowing walkways that crisscross between buildings. The city is a technological wonderland which rests on a canopy of huge silver aspens that cover the island. The city is said to be a paradise made of magic, nature, and science. The Silvar made this paradise, a place where none know hardship, pain, or death. The city glistens in the evening night like a fleeting dream.

In this paradise, there is a multi-tiered sculpture of a large hand reaching toward the sky with water flowing from its fingertips. The water cascades down into several pans and makes small water arcs as it collects in the basins, which are several meters around. A single girl stares down into the waters at her reflection. But she sees her face as it was many years ago. From this fountain flow magical waters which are said to show the viewer visions of the past. She used to view the past and its many joys here but today they bring only tears to her eyes. In a city where hardship is an alien thing, she sees only pain, knows only scorn, and dreams of acceptance. She is not like any of the others in the city; though to most eyes she looks like a Silvar, her impulsive actions and reckless display of emotions are signs of her mixed birth.

Her name is Sabrahliani, daughter of High Lord Syrindraith Dragonrider, the ruling sovereign of Eldir. Sabra, as her mother Denel called her, was of royal birth. She had long silver hair with traces of honey brown that reached to the center of her back. Her skin was powder white, typical of the Silvar, but always shimmered slightly like platinum. Sabra’s build was smaller but more muscular then other Silvar. She constantly wore her hair down, unclasped and unfettered. She was often called wild child because she refused to pull her hair back from her face as was custom among the Silvar. She was educated by the wisest scholars of the Silvar

and trained to use various weaponries by the House Protectorate as was custom of all royal children of House families. She excelled in swordsmanship, riding griffons, and history. As she matured, she studied the healing arts and became a priestess of the goddess Auraka, the Golden Lady, who was seen as the protector of the Silvar and all that was good. But even though she was a priestess and the heir to the Silvar throne, she did not feel accepted by her people.

To the human eye, the Silvar seem to defy time itself; since the average life of a Silvar may span hundreds of thousands of years, but the Silvar will not seem to age much past reaching maturity. Sabra found that her human side had caused her to age much quicker then her peers, and though she appeared to be a Silvar woman of 7000 or 8000 years of age, she was still a girl, having only lived 500 years. She felt out of place and noticed the others didn’t want her around, so she frequently withdrew from polite society. She sought solace in her weapon training as a girl, but now that she was a priestess, she studied the ancient texts of her people and about the world beyond her island kingdom.

Sabra often left the city, though it was forbidden, and ventured to the forest floor to seek imaginary adventures amongst the gnarled roots that twisted around the ancient aspens. The penalty for breaking Silvar law was called The Rifting. The Rifting was a process by which one was changed into a forest creature with all of the memories of their former life erased. The most horrifying thing to Sabra about the rifting was that the memory of that individual was also erased from the hearts and minds of those living in the city; and their name and accomplishments were erased from the archives. Sabra often wondered which was worse: losing one’s memories or losing one’s connection with the city. In the end, it would be as if you never existed.

Sabra watched now as the fountain showed her story. She watched as if remembering everything of that day, but she knew that soon this would be her final memory. An image of Sabra taking one of her afternoon walks on the forest floor in a simple gossamer dress rippled across the water. On that day, Sabra came across a wounded deer. It had been injured by an

arrow, but not one of Silvar make. Using her knowledge of healing, she began whispering a healing prayer to Auraka, her hands began to glow. Sabra placed her hands on the deer’s wound.

A few moments later, deer stood up completely recovered and pranced around. The deer stared at Sabra. Then it turned its head, its ears twitched for a few moments. The deer bolted into the bushes. Sabra heard a loud thud and rushed after the deer. Sabra trampled through the bushes and tripped over something. As she stood, she found herself in a grassy clearing. Sabra brushed herself off and realized she was covered in blood. The deer lay dead beneath her, a score of arrows lie broken beneath her. Sabra looked around. Across the clearing, she saw a group of white skinned reptilian men armed with bows led by another green skinned reptilian man wearing white robes. These were dragonmen, creatures of myth and dark sorcery. What were they doing here on the island? She turned to leave, but they had spotted her. The robed one shouted commands and arrows began to fly through the air. Sabra ducked into the bushes to avoid them, the shafts came close to her head and whizzed past her ears as she crouched in the bushes.

Sabra crept out the other side of the bushes and broke into a full run. She hoped that her knowledge of the forest would keep her safe. She glanced back as she heard more orders shouted in their guttural language. As Sabra turned to check her footing, she ran head first into something hard. She landed on the ground about five feet back. Quickly getting her bearings, she looked up and saw a red skinned dragonman dressed in white plate armor looking down at her with a large three-handed sword leaning on its shoulder. Sabra instinctively reached for her sword, and silently cursed the fact that as a priestess she could no longer carry one.

Buff, Buff! I’m gonna roll you out! shouted the dragonman in human tongue as he advanced on her.

The dragonman swung his sword, Sabra rolled to her feet, barely escaping the blade. He growled haughtily and swung low. Sabra jumped onto the blade and flipped over him. He

turned and proceeded to pursue. Sabra whispered a prayer to Auraka and hoped she could make it back to warn the city of the intruders on the island. She raced through the forest; her pursuer was still on her trail. She reached the area where the secret entrance to the city was hidden. She picked up some stones and held them close to her chest. The dragonman approached rapidly.

Golden Lady, bless these stones that they may protect your servant. The stones glowed lightly and felt warm in her hands.

She waited silently for the dragonman to be almost on top of her. Then with all her might, she threw them. The stones hit him directly in the face, a bright flash erupted and the dragonman dropped his sword. Sabra picked it up and hoped that the Golden Lady would forgive her. The sword was so heavy that Sabra was forced to wield it like a lance. The dragonman regained his vision just as Sabra ran him through with the sword. The dragonman let out an unearthly growl, tottered back several steps, and then he laughed. Sabra backed away, afraid and confused. The creature should have died from the wound. The dragonman pulled the sword from his body, blackish blood dripped from the wound.

With his lips pulled back tightly, the dragonman grumbled in Silvar, Nice try, but it will take more then a flesh wound to finish me. I am Flagrant Emberwing, remember it well, it’s the last thing you will ever hear.

Sabra scanned the surroundings for something to help her escape. She looked down at the forest floor and noticed a tangle of vines growing on a tree nearby.

I have one last prayer. Sabra looked up at him. He hesitated. It was enough time. Golden Lady, protector of the sacred veil, entangle all evil now in a maze of vines! As

she finished speaking the words, the vines sprang to life and attacked Flagrant.

He struggled against them but for every vine he broke three more rose to attack. He howled in frustration, as he was overwhelmed.

Sorry, but you won’t get to kill me today. Sabra crept away and headed toward the secret entrance. She didn’t realize she was being watched.

Sabra stood in front of two small trees.

The trees flickered and revealed a metal disk with crystalline sphere floating above it. Auraka, protector of the sacred race, open my eyes to the holy place.

The words unlocked an ancient seal, which protected the Silvar city from being detected. A door of light opened between the trees. Sabra walked into the door and rode a lift up to the city. Dark eyes watched as the door closed. Silent laughter echoed across the forest floor.

2

Once inside the city, Sabra made her way to a light bridge. Her body vanished and was taken quickly to the palace. There, she explained all that had transpired to her father. He called together the Council of Lords; it was comprised of all the Silvar lords of the House families. The Council of Lords was the ruling body of the Silvar people. Its members had safeguarded the traditions and welfare of the Silvar people since before they arrived on this world. Sabra stood before the Council, repeated the story of what she had seen to the assembled lords, then, she was dismissed.

As Sabra walked to her room, she avoided the eyes of other Silvar. She had grown tired of their questioning eyes. Was it not enough that she was the High Lord’s child? Was it not enough that she had pledged her life to the goddess, Auraka and become a priestess. But today she was not worthy. She had gone against the Way. She had traveled below to the forest floor. As she opened the door, Sabra wondered what the Council was going to do to her. The city of Eldir was like a prison to Sabra, and everywhere in it reminded her of the fact that she was different. She feared that now her fate was sealed. She knew it was forbidden to leave the city. As the door to her room closed, she felt the walls close in and she couldn’t hold back the tears.

The Council debated for hours on protocol and traditions. Finally, they came to the decision that Sabra needed to be punished. But someone should gather more information about the dragonmen and their purpose on the island. The Council was curious how the dragonmen got through the Mists, a magical barrier which hid their island from detection. All eyes turned to Syrin. The High Lord knew what they were thinking, he knew the law of theWay, but there had to be some way to spare his daughter.

Syrin stood and looked at the Council, and he raised his hands to the sky.

My hands and lips do the will of the Golden Lady, it is in her protection that we trust. We must decide what is right for our people above my concerns for my daughter. Syrin looked at the faces of the Council and bowed.

We all knew this day would come, she doesn’t belong here. She is human! shouted a voice from across the room. It was Nanjar, of the House Griffontear. He came from a long line of respected warriors.

From the first day you brought her here, we knew she would have to be sent out to be in their world. She must not be allowed to stay. Syrindraith, think of what it would do to our way of life. She is a human, she will die, and how are we going to explain what death is to those who will never experience it. Even now, she is barely 500 years of age and she looks 4,000. We are lucky she has lived this long. Tell me wise Syrindraith, how will you explain to those outside the palace that your daughter is human and will die due to her polluted blood. Nanjar looked around the Council for support. He saw a few nods.

Enough Nanjar, we all agreed when Syrindraith returned from his questing, that as his reward for his valiant acts, his daughter would remain among us and live as one of us. We hoped Sabrahliani would come to see the differences between her and us and make a choice to enter their world, rebuked Clorus, of the House Cloudraiser. His wisdom was a mediating force on the Council. But she has instead stayed with us.

Have all of you forgotten, she is our princess, the sole heir to the throne. Fellin Wildbound interrupted.

Fellin Wildbound was a well-respected wizard and sage. He had taught Syrin the ways of magic and was considered a trusted friend of House Dragonrider. Fellin too had walked the other places of the world. He fought alongside Syrin during the Time of Darkness 500 years ago. He remembered the love in Syrin’s eyes when they met Denel for the first time, the bond that the two had shared until her death. He also remembered a time when the Silvar had shed blood to protect the world. Had the Council forgotten?

We can’t have her running around the world putting herself in danger. The Chaosbringer may be silenced but the world is not a safe place for a single girl. Fellin continued his plea.

I must interrupt, Syrin said breaking into the heated debate. I must make an announcement on protocol. I, in light of recent events, have chosen a new heir. Syrin looked around the room; he saw their faces were pale. "Lexies, of House Windblade, he has proven himself and is on a quest of my making. Even now he is returning from