Fool’s Gold

By Ayla Klein

Aryelle peered into the unearthly gloom of the Black Forest. She didn’t want to be here, but she also didn’t know of any other way that she, a mere girl of fifteen, could save her father from the dark dungeons of Lord Galdomé’s castle.

“Bring me a bag of gold from the dragon’s hoard in the forest,” Galdomé had said to her, “and that might pay the debt against your father. Only after I have the gold in my hands will I even consider releasing him.”

Aryelle clenched her teeth as she remembered the cruel sneer on Galdomé’s face.

A bitter wind swept up behind her, chilling her to the bone, but it seemed to bounce back from the forest’s edge. Even the wind was frightened of those dark woods. There’s no other way. Aryelle crept forward into the shadows.

For hours, she picked her way through the trees and brush, searching for the dragon’s hoard. The rays of sunlight thinned as they filtered through the leaves, bathing the forest floor in a hypnotic green glow.

“There’s nothing here! Nothing!” she finally cried out, a few desperate tears spilling down her cheeks.

“There’s never nothing,” said a voice as deep and gravelly as a lion’s purr. A glimmering, jeweled head the size of a fishing boat slithered from behind a nearby copse, followed by its long, serpentine neck and ruby-armored body. The dragon gazed down at her, red flames licking around the edges of his mouth. “There’s always something, even when you least expect it.”

The world swam—Aryelle sucked in frantic breaths and stumbled backward against a tree. She dug her fingernails into the bark and clung to it to steady herself.

“Don’t be frightened, little one,” the dragon said. “If I wanted to kill you, you would have been dead hours ago. Why are you here?”

Her voice shook as she told him who she was, and of her father’s arrest and Galdomé’s demand. The dragon’s eyes, though still proud and fierce, softened with compassion.

He lowered his head to look deep into her eyes. “The other humans come here and demand gold for power or wealth. They are consumed by it, and it corrupts them until every shred of goodness is drained from their hearts.”

“Other humans?” Aryelle asked. “And—and what happened to the others you’ve met?”

“Ask me something else,” the dragon advised.

Aryelle gulped. “What’s your name?”

“I am Furiëgh. And I have an idea of how we can save your father, little Aryelle.”

“You’ll help me?” she gasped. “You know that I’ve come for gold—I didn’t think dragons parted with their treasure.”

“There are other treasures besides gold. I’ll help you get what you want, and you’ll help me get what I want.”

“And what is that?” Aryelle asked.

“Revenge.”

Aryelle clutched the bag of gold coins close as a gruff, heavy-set guard led her through the castle halls. He opened a door and announced in a guttural tone: “Bernhard’s brat is back, my Lord. Claims she’s found the gold.”

“Send her in,” a rasping voice commanded.

The guard shoved Aryelle into a room furnished with an armchair and desk in front of a cavernous stone fireplace. Bookshelves stuffed with volumes of every size and color covered the walls. There was one round window out of which she could just see the edge of the forest.

Lord Galdomé, a giant of a man with dusty red hair and beard and slanting green eyes, stood in front of the fireplace. “Well?” he bellowed at her. “Let’s see that gold if you’ve really got it.”

She held out the bag without a word. He snatched it from her and spilled the gold coins onto the desk. “So you actually found the dragon’s hoard; which means there’s more gold than this out there—and you’re going to take me to it!”

“What about my father? You said—”

“I said I might consider releasing him. And now I’ve made my decision. He’ll stay there until I have every coin from that dragon’s miserable lair!” A thin smile spread itself across his face, but his eyes remained hard and cruel. “Or maybe I’ll just bring him along; to make sure you don’t try anything—foolish.”

“No!” Aryelle screamed, kicking and clawing at the floor as Galdomé easily dragged her out by her shoulder and called for his horse.

“There!” Aryelle gasped as they approached a massive oak with curling, snakelike roots just as the sun began to set. “The entrance is under that tree.”

Trembling, she glanced at her father who was closely guarded by two of Galdomé’s men. He had been a strong, handsome man once; now, he was thin and pale with drooping shoulders and a gaunt, lifeless expression on his face.

“Then I have no more use for either of you.” Galdomé thrust her onto the ground and snapped his fingers. Instantly, his men drew their swords and advanced on Aryelle and her father.

This wasn’t part of the plan! “Furiëgh!”

A huge shadow enveloped them, and Galdomé and his men glanced up, giving Aryelle a chance to scramble to her father. “Hurry!” she hissed, grabbing his arm and dragging him out of sight.

“Here’s payment long overdue,” Furiëgh roared, beating his wings as he hovered in the air. “You’ll not murder this girl’s father as you did mine!” He spat out a cascade of flame, engulfing Galdomé before he even had a chance to scream. The guards scattered in terror, but they couldn’t outrun Furiëgh’s wrath.

Aryelle hid her eyes behind her hands until the flames died down.

Slowly, Furiëgh landed and padded toward her and her father. “You can come out now,” the dragon purred. “I still marvel you did not wish to keep any gold for yourself, Aryelle.”

“There are other treasures besides gold, are there not?” she replied.

“And only fools seek gold above the true treasures in this world,” Bernhard said, holding his daughter close.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Ayla Klein is a Christian, a college senior, and a book nerd. She has always dreamed of writing fun and fanciful stories, and this is her first piece to be published! She loves dragons, coffee, and driving with her car windows down while listening to fantasy battle music.