Clark Gillian

The Devious Dragon and the Fall of the Emperor


Chapter 2.
Shards for good luck.

From his moss-covered perch atop the gnarled oak, the black fox watched with amusement as another company of imperial troops, their polished armor glinting like fireflies in the dappled sunlight, marched into the whispering embrace of the Whispering Woods. He'd witnessed dozens of these expeditions, each ending in the same clueless blunder, yet none had stumbled upon the hidden elven gate, the true target of their bumbling crusade. "Fools," he chuckled, a low rumble that echoed through the ancient trees, his keen eyes catching the flicker of fear hidden beneath the bravado of their leader. "They haven't the faintest notion of what awaits them."

Day after day, a fresh batch of soldiers marched one, two, one, two, left, right, left, right, their rhythmic steps swallowed by the verdant depths of the forest. One day, curiosity piqued, the fox abandoned his observation post, slinking down the gnarled branches, his movements silent as shadows. He couldn't resist a closer look at the chaos his forest brethren were so expertly orchestrating.

A symphony of deception greeted him. Gnomes, hidden amongst the undergrowth, leaped at unsuspecting boots, their mischievous faces contorting into comical grimaces, sending the soldiers scrambling in disoriented circles. Weasels and rabbits, nimble and quick, danced a mesmerizing jig around their feet, luring them deeper into the labyrinthine forest, away from the intended path. Even the ethereal forest nymphs, their whispers carried on the wind, played their part, conjuring illusions of treacherous bogs and snarling beasts, sending chills down the spines of even the bravest soldiers.

Whoever dared to fight back against the forest's guardians found themselves facing a force far more formidable than mere illusions. Wild boars, summoned by the nymphs' whispers, charged with earth-shaking fury, their tusks glinting like polished ivory. Wolves, their howls echoing through the trees, snapped at heels, their eyes burning with feral hunger. And the brown bears, towering giants of muscle and claw, swiped with unstoppable force, their thick fur impervious to any attempt at harm. Metal was no match for the raw power of nature, and the soldiers, their ranks thinning with each encounter, were left with no choice but to retreat, their dreams of glory dissolving into the damp forest air.

The watery nymphs, too, joined the symphony of deception. Their voices, woven into enchanting melodies, lured unsuspecting soldiers to the forest lakes' shores. Mesmerized, the soldiers shed none of their heavy armor, their steps drawn closer by the alluring song. Their descent into the emerald waters was swift and silent, their metallic forms sinking like stones to an eternal slumber beneath the shimmering surface.

All creatures, great and small, united in this unspoken pact, guarding the elven gate from the iron grip of the Imperial Council. The black fox, his laughter echoing through the trees, reveled in the chaos, each day finding amusement in the soldiers' bluster from the safety of his "unfindable tower." But his mirth grew too loud, his cackles echoing beyond the veil of his hiding place.

One soldier, his ears tuned to the fox's glee, caught a glimpse of the furtive shadow flitting behind a bush. Rage contorted his face as he drew his sword, charging towards the source of the mocking laughter. The fox, a blur of ebony and cunning, effortlessly dodged the clumsy swings, leaving the soldier sputtering in his wake. Yet, driven by the sting of humiliation, the soldier pressed on, fueled by a silent vow of vengeance. He trailed the fox, sweat dripping from his brow, armor creaking with each determined step.

Reaching the tower, the fox vanished within, securing the entrance with a resounding thump. The soldier collapsed before the imposing oak door, chest heaving, breath rattling. He had stumbled upon the Enchantress's tower, a legend whispered among fearful men.

"Hello, good Knight," a voice echoed, smooth and enigmatic.

"I... I am no knight," the soldier stammered, "but a soldier."

"And what separates a soldier from a knight, hmm?" the voice mused.

"No land, no coat of arms," he confessed, "just armor and coin."

A chuckle, light and airy, danced around him. "A pragmatist, I see. A man after my heart."

He searched for the source, his weary eyes scanning the shadows. "Cuckoo!" the voice chirped, seemingly from beneath his feet. Glancing down, he saw a mosaic of shimmering mirror shards stuck in the earth and grass below the window.


Mud-caked and trembling, a lone soldier shuffled into the opulent throne room, the air thick with the whispers of the power-hungry Council. His eyes darted across the rows of identical thrones, each occupied by a human figure cloaked in shimmering finery. Yet, only the presence of one figure sent shivers down his spine – the serpentine creature, its reptilian form a stark contrast to the others, exuding an unsettling aura.

With a shuddering breath, the soldier knelt before the central dais. A golden goblet, encrusted with shimmering gems, sat before it, a silent offering to their combined power. He reached into his tattered pouch, retrieving a shard of iridescent glass, its surface marred by the remnants of the forest's wrath. As he presented it, the chamber held its breath, the tension thick as the cloying scent of incense.

The serpent, its forked tongue flickering like a malevolent flame, slithered from the goblet, its scales glinting under the dim light. It coiled around the shard, its voice, a rasping whisper that echoed through the chamber, breaking the suffocating silence. "What offering have you brought, soldier, from your failed expedition?"

From the shard's depths, a wispy figure materialized, its form coalescing from swirling shadows. A chilling voice, devoid of warmth, filled the air. "Your attempts to capture the Princess," it spoke, its words laced with malicious amusement, "were a symphony to my ears."

The serpent hissed, a sound tinged with satisfaction. "So you can hear the music of our discord, Sorceress?"

"Indeed," the disembodied voice echoed from the shard. "Imprisoned within these fragments by the very one you seek, I suffer increasingly at the hands of that wretched family. Now, dragged back to this accursed place without even a corporeal form…"

The serpent's smile stretched wide, illuminating its fangs. "What desires burn brightest within you, Sorceress?"

"A body," the voice replied, filled with yearning. "The taste of food and drink, the feel of jewels gleaming in my grasp, the caress of silken fabrics. To sink into plush pillows, my hair adorned with fragrant oils…"

The white serpent met her gaze, its fiery eyes gleaming. "What if I could grant you a physical form, without a single coin exchanged?"

A surge of desperation colored the Sorceress's voice. "Anything," she rasped. "But tell me, who are you? Do we share a past?"

"Consider us newly acquainted," the serpent purred. "Your loyal companion, as long as you fulfill my desire."

Silence hung heavy in the air, the Council members watching with bated breath. Finally, the Sorceress broke the stillness. "What is it you crave, Serpent?"

A low, chilling hiss reverberated through the chamber. "Certainty. Absolute, delicious… certainty."