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The Land of the Dragons-Book 1-Prologue

The Land of the Dragons-Book 1-Prologue

Posted March 11th, 2023 by Cheezmra

by Dragonwolf
in California


Draco the seventh strode down the long dark hallway. His long wings lightly brushed the floor and billowed out behind him like a large cloak. His long tail swept the elaborately carved cobblestones. Torches sputtered on the walls, doing almost nothing to fight back the heavy gloom. To his right was a long line of arches, all dark.

  Looking at Draco, one would never guess that he was as strong as he was. He was nearly four times smaller than a regular dragon, as all rock dragons were, but he could take down one easily. He was lean and lanky, and he wore a bandolier with a sheath attached, hanging over his back. His swift feet with the long claws took him down the corridor with speed that would have rivaled a swimming Sea-dragon. He ran on his hind legs, as all rock dragons did. It was another thing that set them apart from the other dragons. They were quite different from the rest of the dragons in Wylinvra. Salkrick was a clever god. 

Draco wished he had seen what the rock dragons were like before, like his own large band that had descended from the rock dragons that Salkrick had missed. The rest, as he saw them, were lumbering, stupid brutes, unable to form good battle strategies. Draco smiled to himself. He knew that the sheer number would make a great army. If he could gain control of the thousands of rock dragons then he could gain control of all of Wylinvra.

Much as he liked the tunnels that his father had told him had been dug by their ancestors, he wished to control the whole land of Wylinvra. It was his ultimate goal.

He fingered the carved sword hilt, which was the only weapon that he knew of. While most rock dragons fought with their long claws, he had to only slip it out of the sheath, and the room would fall to order. He practiced with his weapon in the long, slow hours in the throne room, crouching uncomfortably on the throne while swinging the long straight sword in the air. 

He knew that if he just had more weapons, maybe enough for his small army of six legions each consisting of about fifty rock dragons he could simply control the world with his tiny army.

But as far as he knew, there was no stash in his half-underground castle. If there ever was, then the first Draco never passed the secret on. That was why he needed weapons besides the one sword.

He could do with a stash of weapons.

Or a bigger army.

He simply had to gain control of stupid Griffin’s army.

The rock dragon king Griffin lived in the second castle in the rock dragons’ territory. Unlike Draco’s, it did not have a mysterious underground labyrinth and Griffin had not explored even half of it while Draco had personally explored the entirety of his castle.

He had had two hundred years to do it, after all.

Rock dragons live for an average of three hundred years, about the same age as sea-dragons, the longest lived dragons in Wylinvra.

Dragons live for many years but can talk and walk by one year and fly soon after. Nearly all dragons followed that same pattern. Even rock dragons, although they were different in almost all other respects.


Griffin, a rock dragon himself, was the so-called “king” of the rock dragons. Draco knew he wasn’t. The rock dragons followed no law. Draco was “king” of more rock dragons since he was king of six legions. The six legions had plenty of room in a labyrinth of tunnels that once held all of the rock dragons.

Griffin would be easy to subdue. He had been cowering last time Draco went to his castle. Every rock dragon in the territory, and a good stash of weapons, and Draco would be ruling the world. 

Well, what if Griffin had the stash of weapons?

Draco whirled on his heel and raced down the hall the way he had come.

The hall was a long one but Draco’s long feet, unlike the flat, wide feet of the modern rock dragons, ate up the carefully carved ground. 

He came to a doorway that was an ornately carved arch set in the irregularly shaped stones that formed the tall passageway. Yellow light streamed into the dark hallway.

“Ugh,” muttered Draco to himself. “Tyha!”

The rock dragon sauntered to the door. “Yeah?”

Draco examined the dragon from head to toe. She leaned against the side of the door nonchalantly, without a care in the world. Draco hated her. He hated the way she picked her teeth with a long claw. He hated the way she let her legion enjoy themselves when Draco had specifically told her not to. He hated the way she ignored his hand reaching over his back for the sword. He knew it was a threat that was useless to her. While any other dragon general under his power would be standing at attention by now, Tyha practically ignored him. She looked like all the other generals, with a brand mark that depicted a snarling rock dragon head in a circle, the symbol of Salkrick. But her demeanor was entirely different. But despite her exasperating traits, she was still valuable. Draco learned that in battle. If she wanted, she could take Draco’s place and would be undoubtedly better at planning and fighting. But she didn’t care. She never cared. That infuriated Draco,

“Okay who opened that Tlaskim?” growled Draco as the unmistakable smell of liquor and the sound of singing came from the open door. 


“And you let him?”

“C'mon. they love it.”

“I’m sure they do,” commented Draco dryly.

“Of course they do,” affirmed Tyha. “Now, i’ve got somethin’ to do real quick. She turned to go.

“Tyha, get back here. You are going to come to the meeting room exactly now,” growled Draco.


Draco slipped the sword out of the sheath, enjoying the glimmer of the blade in the cheery yellow light. 

“Because we need more of these.”


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