Drachar: The Name That Opened the Gate to Hell

The Birth of Drachar's Demons

Some years ago, a friend read Prophecy of the Kings and told me how much he had enjoyed it. Yet one thing troubled him: he wanted to know more about Drachar, a figure only hinted at in the story. Oddly enough, his curiosity stirred my own. I realised that I knew surprisingly little about Drachar myself—or about his people, the Eldric. That is one of the strange delights of being an author: the world you create is often filled with shadows even you have not yet explored. Perhaps that is why Tolkien’s extraordinary world-building remains so compelling; his deep love for the Elves, their histories, and the vastness of Middle-earth gave every hidden corner the promise of a story waiting to be uncovered.

Before writing Prophecy of the Kings, I imagined that authors had their tales fully mapped out before they ever put pen to paper. For me, it was nothing like that. The story revealed itself chapter by chapter, often surprising me with unexpected turns in the plot and with characters who grew in depth, contradiction, and purpose as the tale unfolded.

At that stage, I had only faint inklings of the characters I needed and the journey they would take. What I knew of the Eldric was thin, but important. Long before the events of Prophecy of the Kings, they had vanished mysteriously from the land. Their disappearance left behind fear, superstition, and unanswered questions. The earlier Krell Wars had burned themselves into the memory of the people, who were rightly terrified of soul-snatching demons. The Eldric and their sorcery had once been instrumental in defeating those horrors. Without them, there was no true defence. That was my starting point: a land haunted by old wars, a vanished race of sorcerers, and a name—Drachar—that seemed to carry more darkness than I yet understood.

So where should Drachar’s story begin? I wanted him to be shaped by his own greed and lust for power, not born evil but drawn towards darkness by ambition. Before he became Drachar, he was Lothanol, an Eldric Lord whose recklessness led him to peer beyond the world he knew and into the Demon World—a realm separated from his own by a veil known as the Divide. At certain times, the two worlds drift closer, and the Divide weakens. Then, only the strongest demons can cross it to harvest souls. But sorcery changes everything. Once sorcerers learn how to summon demons, the balance is disturbed, and far more creatures can be drawn across. In my tales, only the Eldric are sorcerers, and most are content to summon elementals of fire, earth, air, and water, wielding lesser but safer magics. Wizards also exist, though their power is different: they can command only the magic within themselves, and not everyone has that gift.

I also knew that the Eldric were relative newcomers to the land. It is hinted that they fled their own homeland because a few among them had dared to touch the Demon World. The temptation, it seems, had simply been too great. For such a taboo to drive an entire people into exile, the consequences must have been terrible. Their arrival altered the balance of power. Trosgarth, ever warlike, had preyed upon neighbouring nations for years, taking slaves and demanding tribute. Yet at the time of the Eldric’s arrival, the demon threat was low, and the Eldric forged alliances with the other nations, curtailing Trosgarth’s reach. They were more learned, more cultured, and far more accomplished than the peoples around them. Their cities were stronger, more beautiful, and perhaps, to some, dangerously enviable.

Then Lothanol is discovered peering into the Demon World. Worse still, he is overheard attempting to bargain with the creatures beyond the Divide, offering allegiance in exchange for power. To the Eldric, this is more than betrayal; it is a spark cast into dry tinder. Some call for his death. Others fear what killing him might unleash. In the end, they choose exile. He is stripped of his place among them and given a new name: Drachar, meaning unhomed in the Eldric tongue. From that moment, the tale truly begins.

As a writer, that left me with many hurdles to overcome. I had the beginnings of a tale, but not yet the shape of the story. Where would Drachar go? Who would follow him? What weaknesses, loyalties, and ambitions would drive the characters caught in his wake? I wanted to avoid obvious paths and deepen the mystery. Why, for example, would the Eldric expel Drachar when they knew he could speak with demons? Exile would only give him greater reason to seek them out. Their judgement may have been lawful, even necessary, but it also placed a dangerous man beyond their reach.

Drachar was a threat, and that threat had to be managed. Yet the dangers surrounding him raised more questions. Demons could appear almost at random and strike anywhere. Their hides were thick, their scales like armour, and ordinary arrows or swords were of little use against them. How could anyone defeat a creature that materialised from thin air, shrugged off mortal weapons, and stole souls for Hell? And if only the Eldric could summon demons, how would Drachar persuade others to help him fulfil his terrible pledge? He had promised the demons souls, but his would-be allies were not sorcerers. They could not summon what they could not understand. Every answer opened another door, and behind each door waited something darker.

To discover how these questions are answered, read Drachar’s Demons and step into a world gripped by dread, where the old safeguards are failing and the demon threat is growing stronger with every shadow. Could you stand before a creature that can snatch your soul and send it screaming into Hell?

https://davidburrows.org.uk/books/drachars-demons