Jens Hoffmann - Simon Knox and the Prophecy of Asragur

"Grewels", Simon called to the dragon. "Where are you taking us?”.

The dragon turned, flapping his wings in the air, and looked annoyed at the boys. "Well, my friends. It's not much further. You see? Over there on the high cliffs is the Gateway to Morana", Grewels pointed out and kept flying in that direction. Simon and Richie wondered what this Gateway was all about.

Could they simply pass through it, did they need a key or perhaps it was not a Gateway in the traditional sense? From far away all they could make out were ominous black cliffs rising up before them, with waves raging against their rocks below and foam spraying upwards in the moonlight.

"We probably have to climb up some of the cliffs and the Gateway will be somewhere in a cave between the rocks", Richie guessed.

Grewels stepped up speed and the boys had to pick up their pace just to keep up with the dragon. It smelled of heather and saltwater. The moon peeked out again from a thick cloud, revealing a small herd of wild ponies standing closely together next to a gorse bush not far from the travelling intruders. All was quiet, except for the sound of the surf below, the flapping of their mysterious companion's wings and their own hurried steps.

They were drawing near to the place Grewels had pointed to in what seemed ages ago. Simon could guess where the dragon was leading them to. The path grew steeper and the boys had to work hard to stay up with Grewels. With determination, the dragon pressed on, headed for the highest point they could see.

"Richie, it feels like we are almost there", Simon panted.

"Why do you think so?", Richie wanted to know, not feeling so good himself.

"Because up ahead is the highest point on Exmoor, the Great Hangman!", Simon explained out of breath. "I was up here with my dad one time. And believe me, it wouldn't be fun to climb those cliffs as well. Up there is a two hundred meter drop nearly straight down into the sea. One false step would end our adventure here and now, before it has even begun", Simon added dryly. Richie's face turned ashen and for fear he could only make a faint groan.

"What have I got myself get into?", he sighed to himself. "Close my eyes and hope for the best", he told himself. Now that they were already here, he had to know what else the night would bring.

Grewels had already reached the top of the cliff, stood flapping his wings and cheered the boys on to climb the last distance. "Just a few more feet and you've made it. Put some effort into it!", he commanded Simon and Richie, who crawled up onto the top of the Great Hangman pretty worn out and fell right away into some soft heather, where they remained for a moment to catch their breath.

They got to their feet at the same time and looked at Grewels, who was hovering way above them with lightly flapping wings.

"I can't see a Gateway anywhere", Richie said turning to Simon. He had a bad feeling that something here was foul. Simon, who was also looking around, turned to the dragon.

"Grewels, there's no Gateway here!", he shouted up to him.

"Be patient for just a moment. The Gateway will soon be ready to receive you", he encouraged them.

Simon and Richie looked at each other helplessly and fear arose in them. The wind picked up and the roaring of the sea at the bottom of the cliffs became louder and more powerful.

"It's time!", Grewels raised his voice towards the surf. The air began to shimmer all around the breakers. The night scenery on Exmoor in the moonlight seemed to dissolve before their eyes. They held each other's hands tightly. The Great Hangman they were standing on, with their backs to the abyss, started to quake and the raging waves turned louder and louder and thundered in their ears.

The moon was still visible, but otherwise everything sank into weaving darkness.

"Now!", Grewels shouted loudly into the roaring noise, shooting hot steam from his nostrils. All of a sudden the dragon inflated to four times his size and then with all his might blew hot wind in the direction of the two friends. The spray of hot air from the dragon's lungs was so strong that Simon and Richie were picked up off their feet and carried several meters out over the abyss, over open sea, where they plunged spinning into the deep. They screamed for fright like they had never screamed before in their lives. Having completely lost their orientation, the poor boys raced with gruelling speed towards the stormy sea and surely to certain death. The only thing Simon was aware of was a piercing scream that filled his ears. Had the dragon tricked them? It was his last thought before all was still and darkness surrounded him.

Chapter 4

"At long last!", Rodan's voice echoed from the castle out over the Lake of Eldor. The great rock in the middle of the lake, where Rodan's prison had been built by Asragur's magic, began to quake. The fog of Eldor revealed to its lord that the great Gateway to the Worlds had opened and granted the Chosen One entrance into Morana. Now it was only a matter of time until the last of Asragur's magic spell would be broken by Rodan's increasing power.

The castle looked foreboding upon the nearly black rock in the middle of the lake, the shore of which was surrounded by hills and dark forests. A quiet and cold forsaken place, built for all eternity or so it seemed. Helpless to do anything, Rodan had wandered around in the cold corridors of the dungeon, lit only by a few torches here and there, during these past centuries. He knew every single stone of this dark dwelling place, from the massive tower to the large hall down below. The day of reckoning was drawing near. Rodan had sworn to crush anyone who refused to submit to his authority. He looked out over the water and a gruesome smile came to his face, revealing a deep scar under his right eye from his battle with Asragur.

Rodan had always been a fierce and furious elf, who demonstrated his superiority in his early years by playing horrible and dangerous games with the children of the moor elves. As a young elf, he delved into the black arts. Any morals, compassion or gentleness he might have had long ago disappeared from his being.

Full of hate, he thought back to the day when he was called to appear before the Council of Elders, only to be expelled, not only from the village but from Xuria entirely.

They had been afraid of him, he could sense it. He could literally smell their fear. He enjoyed the feeling and a pleasant shiver ran down his spine.

They were nothing but worms and dared to oppose him, and again he was blind with rage.

Rodan had spat at the feet of his people and cursed them for all eternity.

"Someday I will be the mightiest prince Morana has ever brought forth. The moor elves will beg for mercy on their knees, before I utterly destroy Xuria", he had spoken in a clear voice and conjured with raised hands. The skies over the moorland had grown dark.

Shortly thereafter, Rodan disappeared from the moor and peace gradually returned to Xuria.

From that time on he roamed Morana and in time became known as a mighty wizard to be feared throughout the land. Dark shadows always announced his arrival and terrified the creatures of Morana.

After wandering for so long and being tired of loneliness, Rodan met the Nagrim Oldur who, for worse rather than better, struggled through life in a small wood just east of Mount Tularon. He was also an outcast like Rodan.

The hunchbacked attacker ambushed his victim from behind with a moss-covered tree root to rob him of his food, money and boots.

Oldur punched at Rodan with a loud roar, not realizing whom he was trying to rob of property and life. Rodan warded off the attack of the Nagrim with one swift movement, like shooing a bothersome fly. Oldur flew in the air above Rodan's head and landed on his back in the middle of the path.