The Elvor Tales

There weren't always dragons in the Valley.

The golden, magnificent creatures were respected in the peaceful realm of Elvor. They kept to themselves and did not threaten the civilians who wandered into their territory, unless they posed a threat. Then, their intense fire would wreak havoc on those who disturbed their land.

But something had displaced these revered beasts to move west, towards the Valley. Hundreds of them started to flood villages, fighting for areas to control and call their own. With many human lives lost and at constant risk, the unexpected invasion of these once private creatures had become a problem.

The king had dispatched scouts across the territories in search of answers. One such scout was weeks into his quest, as he journeyed towards the desert plains of Volark.

Aale had been on his solo journey through the dire Shamar Desert for two days. He was far from the safety of the local town, and thirst had dried up every inch of moisture in his body, as chapped skin began to peel.

He remembered hearing from the townsfolk whispers of something ferocious and foul living in Devil’s Canyon. These rumours had been circling this territory, and Aale found himself questioning the innkeeper of the tavern.

“What exactly have you heard?” probed Aale.

The innkeeper leaned in towards Aale.

“Put it this way. We had several dragons in our part of the world. Now, they are gone. Exiled. I’ve never known anything to make them move on.”

Aale had to investigate.

Aale continued walking through the inescapable desert, towards Devil’s Canyon, without seeing another living soul. He could not bear the weight he carried, so he slowly released weapons and supplies from his side. He was now only armed with a dagger.

Earthy grains whirled as small gusts of wind came in from the east, scattering the tracks made by the small desert creatures. The mirage allowed the afternoon heat to soar over the plane, making it impossible to see the land beyond with clarity.

The journey had started to take its toll on Aale’s body as it burned under the intense heat of the sun’s rays. His feet roasted under the pressure of his leather boots, but his muscles continued to keep pressing forward through the heaviness of the sand.

“You’ve gotten this far,” he whispered to himself. “Don’t stop now.”

If only his legs had listened before he collapsed under his own weight.

Sinking into the soft soil, Aale landed on his back, trying to steady his breathing. Exhaustion haunted every inch of his body. He closed his eyes, dreaming of water that would soak into his skin and cool down the fire that burned within.

Slight rustling awoke him from a daze. Aale tilted his head to see a tiny creature emerge from a low lying desert plant. A gecko. Its hesitance to move was most peculiar.

Aale squinted his eyes and refocused them on the dark shadows hovering above.

‘Vulunians. Great,’ he thought.

The squawking birds of prey would surely swoop in an instance to peel and devour his flesh.

He needed to move.

The gecko shifted, hastening over exposed, uneven rocks that propped out of the sand. It approached a mound that did not expose what was beyond it. It then plunged and disappeared into a hidden crevice, seemingly to its death.

Then Aale heard it. Something was ringing through the air.

Rushing.

Running.

Something was moving. It kept growing louder as if its presence was so close.

Water.

Aale rolled over onto his torso as his palms crushed against the grains beneath him. He started to crawl. The ringing was growing and Aale knew his luck was beginning to turn around. His quest would continue.

Scrambling upwards over a dune, the haze from the mirage began to lift and Aale could see what this landscape truly held. He had finally reached Devil’s Canyon.

Inverted, tilted mountain ranges revealed a magnificent landscape that sunk deep into the world’s core. Steep edged pillars rose from within, forged by fierce winds and erosion, sculpting them to resemble giant icicles. It seemed to never end.

But it was the blinding sun’s rays that illuminated the richly coloured tiers of rock. Each layer of dissimilar compiled sands was exposed, buried upon one another through the ages. It was the dominance of a red hue that burned vibrantly.

Aale’s attention however, went straight towards the raging river that wound its way in the gully. The drop must have been a clear 800 ft to where he needed to be. It wasn’t going to be easy, but he turned his eyes to an unmarked trail.

Finding his last burst of energy, Aale dived into the ravine, sliding upon tracks when his footing was lost. Chips of rocks trickled down with every slide as he was careful not to end his desire for water with a careless death.

Aale’s ambition for pressing water upon his lips allowed him not to notice the time, as the sun continued to lower. With a coldness forming in the shadows of the ravine, the sun’s rays had fallen to the edges of canyon.

Reaching the river's edge, Aale could see the roaring flow of water. Its power was apparent, as it had split rock and carved its serpent like movements throughout the canyon. He quenched his thirst, splashing water on his face and limbs to reduce the burns his skin had suffered.

The wind started to howl, bringing shrieks of something else that dwelled down there. Its growls mixed in with what remained dormant within the shadows it haunted.

Hidden in the shade was something far more peculiar. Black markings started appearing scattered amongst the rigid walls. It was ash that had stained them, in violent displays of explosions. Everywhere they increased in number, as if it was a battle amongst themselves for finding spare places to make their mark.

Something was alive down here. Perhaps Aale had found the first clues of what the king needed.

Suddenly, a screech haunted the sky. But it wasn’t a vulunian.

Aale looked upwards and saw the two snake like figures. They were wrapped around each other and penetrating towards the canyon floor.

He took cover behind an obsidian boulder, retrieving his dagger from his leather belt.

As the two silhouettes came into sight, Aale readjusted his eyes.

A golden male dragon was snapping its jaws up towards the black, shadowy figure. It was similar in size but had its talons wedged in the golden male’s pearly chest. With accelerating speed, the two were about to collide with the rocky ground.

Aale turned to face away from the action and gripped the dagger tighter. The crunch of the golden dragon’s spine connecting with the ravine’s floor shook him as it echoed throughout the canyon.

The golden male moaned in pain as he closed his sapphire coloured eyes.

In contrast, the other flying monster that conquered over him looked like nothing from this world.

Its black, slimy wretched skin seeped dark oil that was magically whisked away, but then absorbed back into its own body. Throughout its sleek figure, white sharp bone protruded through its skin, offering an additional deadly blow to the green fangs and greasy poison that leaked from its mouth. Excess skin drooped over its piercing, crooked yellow eyes.

These were not dragons of Elvor. These were something else from somewhere else; bastards of the underworld.

Removing its claw-like talons, the creature flicked its head left and right, loosening its jaw before it delivered the final kill to its victim’s throat, silencing its final breath.

Aale slowly peeked from behind the boulder to witness the horrendous murder. He expected this devilish beast to take a piece of flesh from its kill, but instead, saw it pumping something into its neck it had wrapped its teeth around.

In shock, Aale ducked behind his boulder. As he made this sharp movement, the creature stopped administering its poison.

Its piercing yellow eyes shot towards Aale's direction. With a low growl it loosened its grip from the male and backed away from its victim.

Aale dared not move. As he shivered, the black creature paused. It remained as still as a statue, calculating if something was watching it.

Aale composed himself and did not make a sound. The creature snarled, but to Aale's surprise, it made a forceful push from its limbs, and shot towards the sky with one powerful swoop from its paper thin wings.

Aale followed its path, but lost the figure in the dim light.

He sighed with relief.

'Is that the creature responsible for this chaos?' he thought to himself.

Aale, terrified, had to continue with his duty. He needed to inspect the golden male dragon.

With a hesitant pause, he summoned up the courage and slowly approached the dead dragon. He had never been so close to one before, and the sheer size of it took him by surprise.

He inspected the deep puncture holes in which the predator had caused as it injected its poison. There were crimson streaks scattered across its lifeless body, but Aale did not expect to see the effect the poison was having.

The punctured wounds had started to absorb the black ooze. It convulsed over the golden scales, stretching out towards the extremities of the body. The poison started moving rapidly, dissolving the scales as it went from the glistening golden tone to a corrosive, murky black shade. It was the same oily colour the other creature had.

Aale had never seen anything like this before. The infection took over the body, quickly.

The dragon’s eye twitched.

With some hesitation, Aale leant towards the male’s head, gripping his dagger in his right hand.

'Surely, this beast could not have survived the torture it had endured,' he thought.

The dragon’s eye snapped open. It was no longer the innocent sapphire blue, but a distasteful and sickly yellow.

There was a thump.

Aale spun.

The devilish creature crouched behind him. It shrieked a foul cry, exposing its fangs and the saliva that dripped from it.

It lunged towards him.

Aale’s blood sprayed dagger was the only thing left lying in black ichor.