Clark Gillian

The Devious Dragon and the Fall of the Emperor


Chapter 35.
You showed me the way.

Mad Meg and John Cook blinked, bewildered. Where moments ago they bustled in the royal kitchens, surrounded by the clanging pots and happy chatter, now they stood alone in the echoing emptiness of the Countess's grand house. Their dream of a life amongst the royal kitchens, secured by their culinary skills, had vanished like smoke in the wind. The Princess, the Fool, the Burgomaster, the guards – all gone, without a word or a backward glance.

"I'm not going to sit around and wait," Mad Meg declared, her voice tight with something between indignation and confusion. John Cook remained silent, his face pale and drawn.

"They left us behind, didn't they?" she continued, already loading their meager belongings into their faithful cart. "Well, two can play at that game! I say we leave too. After all, what good is waiting here?"

John, weakened by his relentless focus on feeding others while neglecting his own health, coughed weakly. "But where would we go?"

"Anywhere but here!" Mad Meg retorted, already loading. "I heard good things about the City of Hazels. A fresh start, that's what we need. A place where I'm not help, waiting to be abandoned again."

John, despite his reservations, knew arguing would be futile. He climbed onto the driver's seat, the reins feeling heavy in his frail hands. As they trundled out of the City of Oaks, the weight of their uncertain future settled upon them like a leaden cloak.

Their journey led them past a weathered well, a lone fisherman casting his line into the still water. John, drawn by an inexplicable urge, pulled the cart to a halt. He clambered down and approached the well, the creaking bucket descending into the cool depths. As he drew it back up, a glint of gold caught his eye – a small book nestled within the water, miraculously dry despite its immersion.

Mesmerized, John forgot the ache in his bones and the nagging hunger in his stomach. The book, adorned with cryptic symbols and bound in worn leather, held six broken seals around its cover. Only the seventh remained intact, its intricate design whispering promises of secrets yet to be revealed.

Suddenly, a voice startled him. The wizened fisherman stood beside him, a curious glint in his eyes.

"What do you need?" the fisherman asked, his voice gruff but not unkind.

John hesitated, the book feeling strangely warm in his grasp. "," he mumbled, struggling to find the words. "I don't know how to..."

"Open it?" the fisherman finished, his smile revealing a hint of knowing amusement. "Well, what is it you desire most, that it might yield its secrets?"

John pondered, the inscription on the final seal seeming to writhe before his eyes. "A life with purpose, perhaps," he murmured, more to himself than the fisherman. "A place where I'm not just another cog in someone else's machine."

The fisherman chuckled, a sound like wind chimes in a forgotten garden. He reached into his knapsack and produced a magnificent horn, its surface etched with fantastical creatures. "Be careful," he warned, handing it to John. "Only take what you need."

Tentatively, John dipped his hand into the horn's swirling depths. A cold touch met his fingers, followed by a jolt of surprise as a bony hand grasped his. He pulled, revealing an arm, then a head crowned with silver hair, and finally, a wizened man with a flowing beard materialized, blinking in bewilderment.

John gaped, the book feeling heavier in his hands. Before he could stammer an explanation, the inscription on the book flared a menacing crimson. A chill wind swept through the air, carrying the faint scent of brimstone and forgotten magic. The world seemed to hold its breath.

"It has happened," said the Seer.

With a deafening crack and a flash of blinding light, the sky split open, revealing a realm beyond mortal ken. For ages, the veil had separated the human world from the elven realm, a shimmering barrier woven with ancient magic by the Five giants. Now, in a heartbeat, it was gone. Silence descended, a heavy weight pressing down on the ears, broken only by the faint whisper of crumbling stardust.

John Cook, his weathered face turned skyward, felt a raw awe grip him. The world he knew had irrevocably changed.

Around them, the landscape shimmered as the elven world bled into their own. Towering trees with leaves that glowed like emeralds sprouted from the ground, waterfalls cascaded over cliffs of shimmering crystal, and strange creatures flitted through the air on feathered wings. The very air buzzed with magic, an intoxicating energy that sent shivers down John's spine.

Then, a magnificent creature suddenly towered above them. The Enchanted Deer, a legend whispered only in hushed tones, stood silhouetted against the newly opened sky. Its antlers pulsed with an otherworldly light.

"Deer!" the Hermit's voice trembled as he lovingly embraced their snout. "How I have missed you!"

"Merging our worlds into one after all this time," said the Enchanted Deer, its voice resonating with ancient wisdom. "I had feared it for so long, however, now that it has happened, it warms my heart to see what it could mean for all life."

The Hermit, tears streaming down his cheeks, leaned his forehead against the Deer's soft snout, as they said: 

"You have opened my eyes, friend. And now, we must guide our people through this new dawn." 

The Hermit nodded and gestured towards the plume of smoke rising above the transformed City of Trousers. "Our journey continues, though the destination has changed."

With a powerful leap, the Enchanted Deer took flight, carrying the Hermit on its back. They soared above the bewildered human population, now surrounded by towering crystal waterfalls and luminescent flora. John Cook clung to Mad Meg, awe mixed with trepidation in his eyes.

The lonely fisherman, who was revealed to be the rightful king of the submerged elven castle, wept with joy. Its shimmering spires now pierced the surface of the pond, a beacon of his restored kingdom. He turned to John and Mad Meg, a hopeful smile replacing his tears.

"Join us, friends," he invited, his voice echoing with authority. "Let us rebuild our world together."

Mad Meg gazed at the magnificent castle, her heart torn. While the allure of adventure called her further, she couldn't deny the sense of community and purpose brewing within its walls. She looked at John Cook, searching for his decision.

"This is your path, John," she said, a bittersweet smile gracing her lips. "I know you'll have great adventures here. But for me, a different destiny awaits."

They shared a lingering kiss, a silent understanding passing between them. John, with a last wave goodbye to Mad Meg, followed the king and the Hermit towards the castle. As their figures disappeared into the magical gateway, Mad Meg straightened her shoulders, a determined glint in her eyes.

She climbed into her cart, the reins tightening in her calloused hands. The setting sun cast long shadows as she ventured deeper into the unknown, her spirit burning with the desire to carve her own path in this newly merged world.


Never had the Bard witnessed the Prince of Spears crumble. Tears cascaded down his face, morphing into anguished roars that echoed through the horrified city. The dragon's rampage amongst his own followers had been a gruesome spectacle, and now, its fiery gaze swept towards the square where the four armies stood trembling.

The Empress, her voice ringing with forced authority, attempted to quell the rising panic. Yet, her words were drowned out by the panicked exodus of several commanders already fleeing the doomed city. "A dragon was not part of the battle plan!" she bellowed, addressing the remaining soldiers. "But when faced with such a monstrosity, flight becomes cowardice. Stand your ground!"

Amidst the smoldering ruins of the once-sacred temple, the Countess emerged from her golden prison, the cabinet still smoking ominously. Trembling, she surveyed the devastation, speechless in the face of the unfolding chaos. In the distance, the fierce silhouettes of the Princess and Empress stood defiant against the colossal dragon.

"Foolish Princess," the dragon's voice boomed, dripping with condescension. "You could have traded your fleeting magic for a life of opulence, forever basking in the light of royalty."

"Tempting, perhaps," the Princess retorted, her voice laced with unwavering defiance. "But your words hold no sway over me, serpent!"

Smoke billowed from the dragon's nostrils, each exhale a plume of fury. "DUMB! DUMB!" it roared, the ground shuddering with its primal rage.

The Great Red Dragon carved through the square's stones, his claws rending them like butter as he closed in on the Princess and Empress.

"Well, well," he rumbled, a tremor of amusement in his voice. "Seems my lessons about the human realm weren't entirely wasted on you, were they?"

The Princess said nothing, but her hand flickered, igniting a purple fire. The Empress placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Cute," the Dragon scoffed. "Do you have any idea the inferno I could unleash with a single breath?"

He gaped wide, a menacing display of fiery maw, when a deafening crack split the sky. With a flash of light unseen since the dawn of mankind, the world held its breath. The silence that followed was so profound it made ears ring.

"What trickery is this?" the Dragon roared, his voice laced with panic. "No, this can't be happening! It can't!"

His gaze darted upwards, meeting the colossal form of the Enchanted Owl. "What mischief have you stirred up now, serpent?" the Owl boomed, its voice echoing across the stunned city.

"Did you, at least, find some fleeting pleasure in your chaos?" drawled the Enchanted Wolf, materializing at the city gate.

The Enchanted Wildcat and Fox, already flanking the Dragon, sank their teeth into his neck and wings, dragging him from the city walls. A titanic struggle unfolded between the Four Giants and the colossal beast of a Dragon.

With a thunderous gallop, the Enchanted Deer burst onto the scene, a hermit clinging to its antlers, flaming sword held high. The Dragon, caught off guard by this unexpected arrival, let out a shriek of disbelief. Huge scales, each the size of a house, rained down as the Four Giants wrestled him to the ground.

From the plains, the four armies charged, a tide of steel converging on the wounded beast. While the Giants pinned him down, hindering his escape, elves fluttered from the forests and faeries descended from the clouds, their magic woven into healing spells that danced across the Giants' wounds.

"Think yourselves mighty just because you're giants?" the Dragon roared, laughter laced with pain. "Well, you're not alone anymore!"

His shriek, a piercing cry that momentarily stunned the armies, was answered. From the capital, a colossal procession of giants marched onto the plains, their steps crushing soldiers beneath their feet. The Princess stared at their faces, a sense of unsettling familiarity creeping in.

"Bard," she gasped, "Look!"

The Bard's jaw dropped. "What in the..."

"Are they..." the Knight of Spears stammered.

"They are... my friends," the Bard choked out, recognizing his dwarven companions.

Suddenly, the Cat King, perched atop the Bard's horse, yowled, "Climb! Climb! The only way to change their path is to block their sight!"

The Bard stared, bewildered. "Who… What are you?"

"The Cat King," the feline creature confirmed, his regal meow laced with urgency. "No time for questions! Tell your men to climb, Bard! They must climb!"

Bewildered by the Cat King who now perched confidently on his shoulder, the Bard bellowed to the soldiers, "Climb! Shoot arrows! Attack the giants!"

Arrows flew, soldiers dismounted, and desperate scrambles erupted against the colossal limbs. Yet, one by one, they were flung back to the ground.

"The cat bell at the belfry," the Cat King hissed, his regal purr morphing into urgency. "Soldiers lack feline agility. We need to summon them, all of them!"

"The Cat Bell?" The Bard recalled whispers and sensations from the City of Bridges. "So that’s how the winds have turned?"

The Cat King simply nodded, his silence knowing.

"I'll do it!" The Ferocious Watchdog stepped forward, the Cat High Priest perched on his back. "This was foretold!" the Priest intoned, his gaze heavy with sadness as it drifted towards the City of Lovers' belfry.

The Watchdog and Priest sprinted away, leaving the Bard to buy them time. The Dragon, locked in a brutal struggle with the Enchanted Deer and the Four, desperately needed the giants contained. He waved his arms frantically at the approaching behemoths. "Hey! It's me! Your friend! Remember me?"

But the giants marched on, their stoic silence unsettling. The knights, weighed down by heavy armor, continued their futile attempts to scale the giants' bodies, only to be caught and healed by the elves and fairies.

With a forced smile, the Bard addressed the giants directly. "We once brought joy and laughter together, didn't we? Shared smiles and merriment for the crowds!"

One giant boomed with laughter, the sound hollow and chilling. "You mocked us, Bard! Built your career on our backs! Our 'friendship' was limited to comical jigs and dances at our expense. All fun and games, you said, as long as you were the one gaining coin!"

With a mighty kick, the giant sent horsemen and soldiers flying, their screams swallowed by the chaos.

"It's true," the Bard confessed, his voice hoarse. "The world is unfair. But please, don't do this! Spare the towns, the people!"

The giant's laughter boomed, a mockery of their past camaraderie. "When the world bent to your will, you saw no need for change. But now that the tables turn, suddenly the game is rigged? How pathetic! Now I see you clearly: small in body and spirit. No longer the jester, but a frightened man facing giants he deemed beneath him. Fear us! You should fear us! We are the titans now, and you are dust!"

"Who taught you to twist your uniqueness into such hate?" the Bard cried. "This isn't who you are!"

"This," the giant countered, another thunderous kick sending men and horses sprawling, "is who you made us – objects of ridicule!"

"Hurting people won't heal your pain," the Bard called from his horse, his voice cracking with desperation. "It's only the first step to greater suffering."

The giants guffawed, their laughter a storm of contempt. "Sing your songs now, Bard! Sing of your merry band of friends, of happy times. See if that melody can mend the world you helped break!"

The Bard's heart sank. Everything shared, every laugh, every tear, twisted into a weapon of their pain. Their joyful bond, a distant memory drowned by the tide of their rage. There was no space for merriment, only the bitter echoes of a friendship poisoned.

With a single, contemptuous kick, the giant sent the Bard, his horse, and the Cat King tumbling through the air like rag dolls. The bard cried out, a desperate plea lost in the cacophony of battle. The light he desperately tried to summon sputtered and died, leaving him exposed and vulnerable, facing his former friends turned foes. Fear, cold and suffocating, gripped his heart as he braced for the impact.