The Dragon's Tome, An Original Fantasy Story Options

[Zalphon]

Prologue

They called me the Prince of All that is wrong in this world. In Mathoc. The land of magick and wonder. The frozen north known as the Frostblood Tundra. The southern deserts of Sunskar. The eastern jungles of Sythariss. The western mountains of Star-Reach. The Ocean of Souls and the Sea of Arcana... The Northeastern bogs and swamps of the Black Marsh. The Northwestern Forests of Dragonwood. The Southeastern plains of Shadow's Meadow. The Southwestern Deadlands of the Dread Plains...

They say I am all that is foul in the world... They called me a being of the Abyss itself. They called me the Lord of Unlife, the Master of Necromancy, the King of the Undead... They were right... My name is Zalphon Shadowheart Broodikus, Emperor of Mathoc... I am the Arch-Lich and the God of Necromancy and Unlife. I rule over the lands with an iron fist.

My empire is strong and built of the dead. Unlike previous liches and necromancers, those ressurected by me or students of the New Ways of Necromancy retain their intelligence if we so-choose. Mathoc is ruled by the living dead, for the living dead. Our foes are the paladins of Lightius Star, the Arch-Angel and Queen of Skyhaven, Realm of the Angels...

We constantly fight to conquer all who oppose us. The only threat to us, was the dragons... The Guardians of Mathoc, they called themselves. And their immortal followers (ageless), the Order of the Dragon. I once was a member, but after I learned the truth about what power they hid from us, it began...

If you've picked up this tome, you must be expecting a story... My story... My name is Emperor Zalphon Broodikus, and it begins thousands of years ago, during the Era of the Everlight Kingdom. My father's kingdom...

[Zalphon]

Chapter Two: A Squire

I awoke in cold-sweat. Nightmares of myself standing over Drakos and impaling him. Over the past weeks I had learned of a prophecy of a being of pure magick being born to a nameless servant and a cruel tyrant. In time this child would grow to power so great, he could slay gods with sheer thoughts. I wondered who he was or what he was...

Sir Kalarn walked in. His eyes scanned my room. It was small, barely enough room for a bed. "Good morning, Squire," he stated. "It's time for your daily training." I rose a brow. Daily training, fighting with wooden swords until I was black and blue.

I got up and put on a leather jerkin. He nodded and drew a wooden blade. I did the same. He slashed it at me and it hit me straight in the stomach. The wind was knocked out of me. The ground met my behind as I fell. With haste, I made an effort to stand up.

"Still too slow, Squire," he taunted. Those agonizing taunts. If the blade would've been dripping with acid I wouldn't have been so irritated. In a quick burst of rage, I cast a spell. I muttered the words of a spell I heard two members of the Wizard's branch cast and an icy orb slammed into his chest.

He was knocked back and to the ground. I walked over and put my sword to his throat, "I'm afraid you just lost, Milord." The Hyekal nodded and stood up. Daily practice was over. I could sense his irritation in my use of spellcraft. Most members of the Order used spell. Just not in daily practice.

"Master?" I asked. "Are you mad?" The Knight took off his helmet and his long, silvery hair fell to his back. His eyes were icy-blue as they stared into my soul. I felt my very essence being drained. Then his gaze shifted from me to his gauntlets.

"Angry?" He responded. "No. Impressed, definitely." I suspected he'd have me perform my daily chores, but surprisingly, he did not.

We walked through the stone corridors of the magically-maintained keep. Shortly we arrived in the Throne-Room where Drakos sat. The Hyekal told me to stay as he rushed over. The expressions of the deity surprised me. "Zalphon," The Dragon-King called. "Come."

Obediently, as if he had charmed with magick I walked over. Sir Kalarn looked at Drakos and bowed. He took his leave, and since I had came, I was never alone. The Dragon said calmly, "I have learned of your use of 'spells' in physical training. To say the least I am astonished. An apprentice who recently came from slavery is already utilizing spell-craft."

I nodded, "Will there be a punishment, Milord?"

"Quite the contrary," he replied. "I am no longer having you train under Sir Kalarn. You shall be taught by Lord Kristopher Ravenblood. The Champion of the Order. The Knight-General of the Knight's Branch, the Wizard-Lord of the Wizard's Branch, and the Assassin-Lord of the Rogue's Branch answer to him. They all answer to him. He answers only to me and the High Council of the Order."

Almost instantaneously I gasped, "Milord, are you sure?"

"Magick-Born, Kristopher Ravenblood shall train you. One day, he will step down. He'll become a member of the High Council and you'll take his place. Zalphon, you'll be one of the greatest heroes that Mathoc has ever seen. I have seen it written in the waves of the Arcane Sea."

"Are you telling me the truth, Milord?" I asked.

"Your future is hard to tell, but I do know you will be a great hero. I do not know if corruption will take hold of your soul or if you'll remain a hero until the end of your days," he continued. "I hope you'll remain a hero, Zalphon. If you don't, then even the gods should fear."

"Milord, when do I report to Lord Ravenblood?" I questioned. "Immediately?"

"Enjoy a week of leisure, Magick-Born," he commanded. "And you won't report to him. He'll come to you."

I walked out the door, eager for the arcane secrets and physical power I would gain in time under the leadership of Lord Ravenblood...