The Dragon's Ambush

Clavitoth the Green Death was sleeping peacefully, dreaming of the time he had stolen his mentor’s treasure, when he awoke to the sound of crying. His eyelids opened violently and he peered around his treasure room, scanning for any soon-to-be-dead thieves. Finding none, the dragon mulled going back to sleep and waiting for the crying to stop. But the echo of the cries through his lair would give him no respite.

Vowing to violently destroy the source of the noise, the Green Death rose onto his four tree trunk-sized legs, shaking off the many coins and jewels that had fallen onto his vibrant green scales as he slept. He stepped out of his hoard room, causing the mounds upon mounds of treasure to shake and slide as he exited the cavern. The dragon made one last scan of the room, which assured him that not a single coin had gone missing. Content with the state of his trove, he trudged his way through the dark underground until he found the special passage.

It had been many months since he had taken this tunnel to exit his lair within the forest, but it had been longer since any sentient creature had attempted to enter. For Clavitoth, the element of surprise was only fun if he was the one using it.

Small beams of light trickled in as Clavitoth entered the bottom of the hollowed out innards of a once mighty tree. After a short climb - short for a creature of his massive size at least - his emerald eye peered outside for a clear view of the cave marking the entrance to his lair. But it was at that moment the crying returned to pierce his giant eardrums.

Clavitoth snorted and climbed out through the secret hole at the top of the tree. Much of the local fauna had departed at the first whiff of his deadly chlorine breath, leaving nothing to note his approach.

With the grace of an animal significantly smaller than he was, the green dragon climbed out then down like a serpent, and with just as much stealth. As the crying grew louder, he knew that his target was close. But now his nose was picking up something wafting through the air - the smell of meat.

Poking his chimney-sized head through a thicket of trees, Clavitoth was surprised to see a large array of wagons and baskets visibly overflowing with lavish gifts sitting out in front of the edge of his cave. He had received such tributes before from the villages neighboring the forest he called his domain, but usually the villagers were smart enough to avoid waking him when leaving his offerings. Clavitoth made a mental note to fly over their villages and punish them all after adding his new treasures to the trove.

As for the crying, he had no doubt that there was something waiting to spring an ambush on him if he were to lumber out of his cave. The green dragon could hardly wait to see the looks on their faces when he crept up from behind them.

The Green Death loved a good ambush.

Eager but suspicious, Clavitoth peered around and used all of his senses to be sure that all was clear. He realized then that the crying came from the pile of food, but he had to be sure that it wasn’t a trap. If it was, whoever set such an annoying trap would be dead - as would their entire bloodline. The Green Death inched closer with his huge head pouring over the dead deer, sheep and pigs to find the source of the sound.

A toddler. Crying in its swaddle.

Clavitoth wasn’t fond of killing children. They didn’t have enough of a life to flash before their eyes as his spear-sized claws or sword-sized teeth cleaved through them. But with the toddler continuing to cry, Clavitoth was ready to make an exception. He reeled back and felt the gas build up in his throat before leaning forward and letting out the noxious gas that could kill all living things.

The chlorine gas spread like a haze for dozens of yards around. Any living creature that lacked the speed or wherewithal to escape in time choked cruelly before departing the mortal coil.

Life was snuffed from dozens of tiny rodents and small creatures that had not yet fled when the Green Death released the gas that earned him his name.

All except one.

Clavitoth nearly fell backwards when he heard the crying continue even after releasing his gas. When his green gas cleared, he saw that the child was still squirming in its swaddle, crying just as loudly as before. He whiffed the air to ensure that something hadn’t happened to his mighty breath weapon, but the intoxicating scent of his chlorine still filled his nostrils.

This was absurd. No living thing could survive inhaling his deadly gas. Clavitoth needed to make sure that it was truly just a problem with the child. He reeled back and released his mighty gas once more, but to his dismay, the crying did not stop even as the gas surrounded the child and visibly entered its nostrils.

Something was wrong with this child, Clavitoth was sure of it. Was it cursed? Was it some undead monstrosity trapped in infant form? He would have asked more questions in his head were it not for the incessant crying. The sound of the child’s cries made it too hard for him to even think. There was only one other solution.

Not wanting to ruin the meal that laid out for him by the soon-to-be-dead villagers, he resolved that the best way to end the crying was the pragmatic one. With a sigh that a non-dragon would easily mistake for a bear’s growl, he began leaning towards the infant, fangs bared to take the whole thing along with some of the meat.

But before Clavitoth could open his mouth to eat, the baby stopped crying and was instead looking at him. Right into his eyes. In that moment, Clavitoth saw two green irises looking right back at him.

Nothing kept The Green Death entranced quite like the color green. They were small, but he had done far worse to get gems far smaller than those. Clavitoth could not - would not - resist the pull of something so beautiful. It was like looking into a mirror and seeing perfection staring back.

It occurred to him then why his gifts would include a child like that. He coveted all things green - jades, peridots, art with green paint, but especially emeralds. One of Clavitoth’s greatest dreams was to sleep on a bed entirely covered in emeralds. Thanks to his deceived mentor, he was already a third of the way toward that goal.

But he had to have those eyes and add them to his collection.

All sorts of ideas began to fill the dragon’s mind. Perhaps he would use his claws and carefully pear the head until only the eyes remained. Perhaps he would crush it to try and squeeze the eyes out of the head.

Perhaps he would play the longer game of raising the child as his own apprentice before betraying it - then witness the shock in its eyes as he removed the head and added it to his hoard, so he could see their beauty as soon as he woke up.

The possibilities seemed endless to Clavitoth.

But as he contemplated how he would go about starting to raise such an interesting child as his own, it started making a new sound. No longer surprised by this strange child, the dragon leaned closer to make out what it was saying.

“What was that, Emerald Eyes?”

“Gotcha,” he heard it say with a voice that was no longer child-like. It was a voice that was much more familiar.

The dragon reeled back as he heard the child yell, “Now!”

From the foliage around him, dozens of bolts shot out piercing his mighty scales, digging deep into the flesh on his torso and his wings, which made him roar with such might as to make the trees tremble. Outraged at the deception and his own lack of awareness, the dragon tried to flap his mighty wings and ascend to the skies, but he felt himself being pulled back.

Turning around, the dragon saw that there were strong ropes attached to those heavy bolts. Worse still, more bolts were still being fired and embedding deep into his huge wings and limbs. With his great size it was almost impossible for the bolts to miss.

Then came the pulling.

The ropes attached to those several dozen bolts sticking out of him began to pull at him in every direction, forcing him to the ground. He thrashed about, but his limbs were held so tight and the bolts were embedded so deep that all he did was wear himself out. And when he finally saw the humanoids coming out of the foliage wielding weapons - all with their faces covered to protect from his deadly gas - his outrage turned to fear.

Treasure thieves! He had been tricked!

They came at him from all angles, piercing his great scales with axes, swords and daggers until he was bleeding profusely from countless places.

He could not move much, but was able to get out a good stream of chlorine gas which he directed at one group hacking away at his regal body. It had no effect, though he wasn’t especially surprised given that they had covered their faces in what were certainly some sort of enchanted coverings.

The Green Death could barely move his head anymore from the roped-bolts and the pain, but he could still move his eyes - and he was nearly certain that the blood loss was making him see things because the once crying infant was changing form to that of another green dragon. A familiar green dragon.

Mantisoth, his old master.

“You…” Clavitoth said with what little strength was left in his lungs. “Would ally with mere humans…?”

“To get my revenge against a sniveling worm of an apprentice like you? I would give my hoard to a damned silver dragon just to see a painting of you looking like this,” she said.

Mantisoth moved closer to his face and growled, “Never let confidence turn into arrogance.”

Clavitoth growled, but the older, wiser dragon chortled. He could feel the humans continuing to stab at him, creating deeper and deeper wounds into him, but his cries grew weaker and weaker. Then Mantisoth started speaking in Draconic - the language of the great wyrms.

“Fear not my apprentice, all that you stole from me will be mine again soon enough. I know where they plan to take it after they clean you out.”

Clavitoth’s vision was getting hazy. He was starting to lose consciousness and was hoping he might drift mercifully out of this wretched existence. Those hopes were dashed quickly though.

“Are we done here?” he heard one of the humans nearby say.

“Not quite yet,” Mantisoth said. “His lair is sure to be filled with traps so be on your guard. As for him…”

Clavitoth saw a massive claw rake down towards his head, cleaving up through his throat while taking out one of his eyes.

The Green Death then knew no more. But as he died his emerald eye rolled over and rested at the entrance to his once great lair, to see his treasure taken from him.