Dragon Knights Fan Fiction ❯ Twenty Themes ❯ A Deadly Sin ( Chapter 13 )

Warnings: Humour, pokes fun at Nadil

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The proud man wandered sliffly through the room, with a large smile on his face. "What do you think, eh?" He stopped in front of one of the mirrors. "Flawless!"

The room was covered in mirrors. If wallpaper came with a mirror finish, then the room would have been completely reflective. As it was, there were hardly any bits of wall poking through between the many frames. The floor was also littered with shiny, reflective goodness. Stand-alone mirrors vied with easels that were pressed into service. There were also a few hand mirrors suspended from the ceiling. Plaster tumbled from the ceiling as the man's bored attendants watched.

"Sire, no one will notice, but don't you think that it'd be a good idea to get a few stitches sewn in?"

The man's hand reached up to a tiny ribbon that wound once around his neck. "You're joking, aren't you? That'd leave a nasty scar and as you can see, everything's fine." The expression on his face froze, as his head turned on its side. A hand reached up and clamped it back firmly onto its neck.

"Sire!" a woman with long pale hair nestling in the clevage of her low cut dress pulled a metal contraption out of a burlap sack. It resembled a medieval torture device, like a thumbscrew, but several times the size. "It's dangerous not to use a brace. Within a few years, your neck will be able to support itself, but healing takes time."

"Don't be stupid!" The man glared at her, fingers twining deeper into his purple hair. "I'll look ridiculous if I put that on. How can I inspire fear and keep my position as lord of the demon world if I look so stupid?" He switched hands, a brief freeze signifying the changeover. "This ribbon is fine. It covers the wound, but still looks manly."

"My Lord, Nadil." A man with pale, blond hair bowed low as he spoke. "What if something happens and your head falls off?"

"Then dust it down and put it back on again. I can't have Lykouleon thinking that he cuts off my head and it's something serious. He'll gloat." Slowly, he removed the hand from his head. Moving stiffly through the room again, arms out wide for balance, he smiled. "See, no problem. It fits right back on with no ill effects." His expression froze again and the girl dived forward, with her arms outstretched. She landed at his feet. "Shyrendora?" Nadil asked. "While you're down there, can you tell me what I just stepped on?"

He lifted a foot and balanced awkwardly while Shyrendora started to get to her feet. "It's just your pink scarf, my lord."

"Ah yes," he said, stepping over it and making his way through the field of mirrors to a luxurious throne. He turned around and feeling behind him, carefully lowered himself to his seat. "No problem. I can walk and sit."

"What about eating, sire?" asked the blonde man. "How will you manage that without being able to look at your food?"

"Yes, well, as the Lord of Demons, I should be able to demand a minion to feed me. Those sorts of whims were quite popular among my predecessors. Find someone to do that and make them pretty, or amusing."

"Sire," called Shyrendora, displaying the clamp, "what happens when you sleep?"

He responded with a dismissive wave. "Fedelta wakes me each morning. If my head becomes detached in the night, he can replace it and hold it on for me while I dress."

"Shydeman?" murmured the girl, looking at her companion.

The blonde man stepped forward. "What if the dragons send an assassin and he finds you before Fedelta does?"

Nadil laughed. "Their lord cut my head off and I just plonked it straight back on. He was so scared, he shit himself. No dragon will come within ten, no a hundred miles of this place. They're terrified of me." He laughed a little more, then lifted up his arms, bracing his head between them. "Booga booga."

"Yes, my lord," muttered Shydeman. "Truly terrifying."

"Told you," crowed Nadil, settling himself further into his seat. "Now, go and prepare everyone. I'm granting an audience. They'll soon see that Nadil lacks no head."

His attendants bowed and backed out through the door. Nadil ignored their exit and focused on the mirrors, checking the ribbon that covered the line proving that the Dragonlord had indeed cleaved right through his neck. "Maybe a bigger ribbon wouldn't hurt," he said. "I'll look at that scarf again too." He stood up and moved his rigid body back to the spot where Shyrendora had prostrated herself. He wavered as he bent his knees and lowered himself enough so that he could feel around the floor. He closed his eyes as his fingers gripped onto the scarf and missed the many reflections of a door opening and three dusty figures scampering inside and hiding behind a chair. "Harder than it seems, but I'll soon have it mastered and no-one will know my little secret." He closed his eyes to laugh again and missed the reflection in every mirror of a hand lobbing a piece of plaster. The plaster sailed through the air and bounced neatly off Nadil's head, leaving a white mark: the laughter cut off as the head fell fowards.

A pair of hands caught it and restored it on his head. "Who did that?" he called, jumping to his feet and scanning the room, his hands clamped firmly to his head. When he didn't spot anyone, he let go with one of his hands and noticed white powder on it. Looking behind him, he saw the chunk of plaster. He gripped his head and looked up. "Plaster from the ceiling?" He moved away. "I'll have some of those mirrors taken down."

He sauntered back to his earlier viewing spot and looked at his neck again. "Argh!" The head looked too far to the right and jutted over the neck on his left. He realigned it carefully, pulling the ribbon out of the gap between the two where it had fallen. He covered up the mark by tying the scarf in a jaunty knot.

The next lump of plaster was much bigger and hit Nadil between the eyes. His head tumbled backwards off his shoulders and rolled away, ending up beneath the throne. His headless body wobbled and nearly fell over, before regaining balance. It reached out, then knealt down, feeling along the floor and crawling in a desperate search to find his head before Shydeman and Shyrendora returned.

Three figures emerged from behind a chair. The mirrors watched as the one with green hair creeped up behind Nadil and mimed kicking him in the arse. The black-haired one stuffed a hand into his mouth to stifle giggles, but the blond shook his head and pointed at the throne. He pulled out a bag and snuck over to it, then knealt down and stuck his hand under it, but couldn't quite reach the head. It just brushed the tips of his fingers if he stretched out.

While the blond pondered his next move, Nadil's body turned. His questing fingers found a foot and a leg and while the dusty interloper froze, he pointed at the empty space where his head should be. The trapped intruder shared a frightened glance with his giggling friend, who stopped laughing, pulled a sword out from a scabbard and advanced on the headless demon. His frightened friend gestured for him to stop. The armed intruder shook his head.

"Rath! No!" shouted the green-haired man, as Nadil's fingers tickled higher, before clamping his hands over his mouth. Nadil didn't react, slowly feeling his way up the man's body.

Rath laughed. "He can't hear you, Thatz," he said, pointing at the throne where the blonde was knealing. "His ears are over there."

Thatz heaved a huge sigh of relief, which turned to panic when he realised that Nadil's fingers were almost at his neck.

"Rune!" shouted Rath to the blonde, who turned and looked at the sword in his hand.

"Good idea," he said, drawing his own sword and spearing Nadil's head on it. He slipped the head into his bag and closed it tightly. "Let's go."

By this stage Nadil was fully upright and running his fingers across Thatz's features. He checked out his hair, then measured the intruder's height against his chest, before grabbing him so hard that Thatz squealed. Rune ran forward and kicked the headless demon lord in the groin. He released Thatz and collapsed to the ground. "Let's go," he shouted, clamping a hold of Rath and tugging him towards the door.

"But we could do it. We could finish him off!" shouted Rath. "It would be so easy. He's helpless."

"He still has magic and we don't know when his underlings will be back. Let's go!"

"Rune's right," said Thatz, sprinting to the door. "We have the head, but loot doesn't count until you're at home and spending it."

Rath grumbled, but followed quickly enough when the demon lord made it to his feet again. Nadil clenched his hand into a fist and shook it at the wall and was still there when his minions returned.

"How embarrassing," said Shydeman, looking at the scene. He stepped back out of the room and Shyrendora locked the door.

"Let's just say that he's dead."

Shydeman agreed.

This was sort of how Nadil was going to be if he ever showed up in Inside Tetheus's Head. I had the head falling off every five minutes, but he wasn't quite so vain. He never showed up in that series, but I'm glad that I got to use the idea.