Jens Hoffmann - Simon Knox and the Prophecy of Asragur

"Yuck, disgusting", snarled the enraged dragon and spit grass and black dirt in a high arc. Fascinated, Simon and Richie watched as their strange guest slowly sat back on strong hind legs. He was at least three heads taller than Richie with a scaly, slate grey body that was lighter in colour on his well-nourished belly, a powerful tail that slapped around furiously and strong, sharp claws. The wings were similar to those of a bat and situated on the back, and there were horny scales from the head to the tip of the tail. The head was lizard-like with small ears out of which small tufts of fur grew. Cunning green eyes, a wrinkled face and a wide mouth with sharp teeth completed the picture of their nocturnal visitor, which didn't exactly inspire confidence.

Outraged, the dragon puffed smoke out of his nostrils, looked down and gave himself a shake and grumpily began knocking the dirt from his scale-studded skin while stamping a foot and swearing.

"Just look at me, what a mess!" Simon thought, just as Richie, that he was dreaming and had difficulty believing what was going on before his eyes.

"Now that we know that dragons really exist, perhaps we should reconsider the theory of fish that climb up on roofs", Richie whispered, still staring in utter fascination as the grumbling dragon dusted himself off.

"Now's not the time for that, Richie", Simon said, turning silently to his friend and saw out of the corner of his eye how their scaly visitor was rummaging through a somewhat greasy-looking, old leather bag he was carrying over his shoulder.

"Not that too! Half of it is mush, squashed, inedible!", moaned the dragon and shook out the contents of the bag on to the ground. Simon and Richie couldn't believe their eyes when they saw fleecy and beeping little fur balls rolling around on the ground. The dragon sat down awkwardly in front of the tent and started sorting through his travelling companions. Those little fur balls that no longer moved, they had no doubt been cute little animals of some sort, were heedlessly thrown into the thicket. Those members of the tour group who were still alive he put back into the bag.

He held an extra fat specimen in his claws, examined it in detail and tossed it in the air. Simon and Richie's blood ran cold as suddenly a flame shot forward out of the mouth of their guest, turning the poor little squeaking creature into a flame before disappearing between the teeth of the hungry traveller. Simon turned white as a sheet and felt chills down his spine. Richie was also as quiet as a mouse and was about ready to throw up when he heard how the dragon enjoyed his meal, smacking his lips and chewing thoroughly.

The snack must have been overdue, for right after the scaly beast finished his meal, his facial features relaxed. Picking his teeth clean with a sharp claw, he was now interested in his surroundings. After a mighty burp, the dragon rubbed his belly in satisfaction and let his eyes come to rest on Simon and Richie. The situation seemed to relax a bit. Still they remained cautious, neither of them wanting to put their trust, just like that, in a fluffy ball grilling monster. After the three of them just sat there quietly looking at each other, however, curiosity caused Simon and Richie to move in a bit closer to the dragon.

"Who are you?", asked Simon.

"And where are you from and what are you doing here?", Richie added.

"My name is Grewels, Excubidor of the holy Well of Hope of Morana, Simon. And I've been looking for you for a long time now", the dragon replied with his deep, smoky voice while thrusting his chest out proudly.

"However, there was no mention in the prophecy about your round-eyed friend", Grewels commented with raised eyebrows and looked Richard over from top to bottom.

"These are glasses I'm wearing", said Richie indignantly and glared at the impudent dragon, who was rather amused by the boy's sudden courage but remained unperturbed. Simon couldn't make heads or tails out of what Grewels was saying.

"Excubidor?, Well of Hope?, Morana?, and what kind of story is that about a prophecy?", he stammered to the monster.

The dragon examined Simon with narrowed eyes and shaking his head, he sighed. "Oh my, you don't really know, do you? Oh dear, we'd better start at the beginning", groaned Grewels a bit irritated and said more to himself: "Great, just as I imagined it would be - an unenlightened human, together with such a perky, four-eyed friend. Always the same, everything's up to me and here the Gateway will be closing this night. I said from the beginning that I don't like field service. But nobody listens to me. Grewels can do it, he'll swing it somehow", he griped to himself.

"Err...", harrumphed Simon and interrupted Grewels, who was slowly drowning in self-pity.

"You seem to be pressed for time. Maybe you can just tell us the short version", he suggested to the dragon. Grewels paused briefly, looked at Simon reproachfully and thought for a moment.

"Hm, yeah OK", he snarled, "we don't have much time but I'll do my best".

"Once upon a time, a thousand years ago", Grewels began his story as Simon and Richie listened with pounding hearts.

"...the mighty dragon Asragur ruled over Morana, a land beyond imagination, created from the dreams and hopes of dragons. A holy Well deep within Mount Tularon, for centuries nurtured by the devotion of the dragons, was to be the center of the universe, of good, of abundance and of peace for all eternity. That's what the prophecy said.

Asragur was the greatest and most magnificent dragon of all. He was the first of our kind, chosen from the beginning of time to nurture the Well of Hope by his devotion, so that all beings in his kingdom could live forever in peace and prosperity.

One day it happened that a baby boy was born of the elves in the moorland Xuria. He was a strong child and filled his parents with joy and happiness, going by the name of Rodan; a boy who was different from others. He was taller and stronger than other kids his age, with black hair and cold, grey eyes. Over the years the boy turned into a full-grown elf, handsome but also cruel, and his people began to fear him because nothing good came out of him and he was in league with the powers of darkness. So it happened that the Council of Elders banished Rodan from Xuria for life, hoping never to fear him again and to live in peace.

Many years passed and as fate would have it, the aged Asragur was weary of his office and became careless. More and more he would fly over his kingdom, hoping somehow to escape his lonely calling in life. So it happened one day that Asragur's path crossed with Rodan's, who in the course of time had become a mighty but embittered wizard. Asragur was well aware of who he was dealing with but nevertheless entered a dangerous power struggle which would give the victor power over the Well of Hope as well as over all of Morana.

Asragur failed to obtain victory! His strength could not withstand Rodan's might. It suddenly occurred to the dragon king that he had been careless with the future of his kingdom. And it would be cast into an age of darkness and fear, should Rodan gain power over the Well of Hope.

With his last ounce of strength, he managed to withdraw into the deep caves of Mount Tularon. But he also knew that as long as Rodan was alive, he would not give up his search to find the Well and claim his prize.

There wasn't much time left for him to provide protection for his kingdom. The dragon king summoned his remaining powers of magic and banished Rodan to the castle of rocks in Lake Eldor, where he is waiting full of hate and hope that the Well will begin to dry up.

If the Well of Hope should shrivel to a mere trickle of water, Asragur's spell will be broken and he will arise over Morana. Near to death, Asragur wrote his last words on the sacred stones at the edge of the Well and his prophecy being revealed to a creature pure in heart, which comes to quench his thirst.