The heroic tale of the Seven dragon swords

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In the land of Estaphor a great darkness swept the land. In that darkness sprung a great evil the seven headed dragon Morlac.

The kings of the land banded together against their foe but to no avail, No matter what they tried no human,elven or even dwarven weapon could pierce the beast.

Even the wizards magic had no effect

In desperation the wizards called upon the elven god kings with there magic offering their souls in return for aid.

The call was answered seven swords for each heart of the dragon were sent along with one spare. But there was a catch the swords after plunging into the hearts would gain the power of one of the heads of Morlac and the wielders must send back the swords to the god kings.

The eight greatest sword wielders from each kingdom who had not perished were chosen and on a distant mountain side they fought Morlac.

One of the swords were lost but the warriors were able to defeat the dragon stabbing each heart of Morlac. The swords turned colors for each different heart stabbed

Black,Red,Yellow,Blue,Green,Purple and Orange

When the time came to turn the swords back to the wizards to give to the god kings. The wielders refused overcome with their greed of being immortal and the powers of a dragon from the sword.

Instead they vanished except for two the black and red sword wielder. The two fought a massive battle to see who was the strongest.

Black won intending to take the red sword with him but instead the sword vanished flying to a new wielder.

The cycle continued a new wielder would appear with the red sword and fight to the death but each time losing to black for many ages.

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My name is Valence Strong

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

For each person in the kingdoms the story of the seven dragon sword wielders, is one they never tire of hearing. Each person from villager to noble wanting to be like the seven heroes who wield the dragon swords.

I'm not one of them, for i am the wielder of the red sword Phoenix.

There is nothing heroic wielding this thing

One day at the age of twelve helping my father in the fields the sword flew down from the sky.

It immediately called to me, till i craved it to hold it but before i could grab it. A magician wearing a blue robe with silver hair, and emerald eyes appeared.

With one swift motion he tried to kill me, my father pushed me out of the way, he died instantly before my eyes.

That damn magician simply laughed and tried again to end my life. This time with my anger the sword flew to my hand. I remember nothing of fighting the magician who i will never forget, but what i saw still haunts me.

Fire that of a dragons had engulfed my entire village nothing was left, I knew that magician couldn't do this it was me.

That day the magician killed my father, but i killed my mother,sister and all those people in the village.

Since that day i have no home.

For eight years now I've roamed wandering with this cursed sword, but yet its the only thing that's kept me alive. To afford luxuries like eating i use the sword to defend rich Kings.

With every king trying to get assassinated at one time or another its a pretty steady gig.

It's also come in hand against magicians they still hunt me and i them, with the power of a dragon I'm a tough guy to beat.

This is my story or should i say the 12th wielder of phoenix the red dragons sword story. I have already told you my past. I shall now start my story just before the most excitement begins.

I was twenty at the time and working for the King of Davern.