by Paul Cude
"Very much so, if I'm not mistaken. And I rarely am," replied the master mantra maker, a sparkle in his eye. "Would you take it off so that I can have a better look?"
"Sure," said Peter, unhooking the clasp of the chain and handing it all over to the old dragon.
Shoving a few books aside on the bench that he was sitting at, Gee Tee switched on the overhead light to get a better view. The two of them hunched over the desk, studying the trident.
"I've never seen one quite like this," muttered Gee Tee with just a hint of awe in his voice.
"One what?" enquired Peter, gazing down at it.
"What you have here child, is known as an 'alea', which roughly translated means 'gamble' or 'last chance'.”
Peter looked at the shopkeeper with a blank expression, still not knowing what it was.
"It's a mantra child, and not just any mantra, either. An extremely powerful one, only to be used as directed, as a... last chance, a final roll of the dice."
"I'm sorry I still don't understand," confessed Peter, feeling more than a little stupid.
"Let me try and explain from the beginning," offered the master mantra maker. "My understanding is that the Aztec dragons were the first to try and develop aleas. If I remember correctly, a group of dark dragons tried to take over a large part of South America, and as a result the Aztec dragons had little choice but to try and bring them back into the light. That didn't happen, and a small and very bloody war erupted. Dragons on each side became proficient at killing each other, in the most brutal ways possible. The dragon in charge of the light warriors... his name eludes me at the moment... fed up with losing so many dragons, ordered his mantra specialists to come up with something that would turn the tide of this small, but very nasty historic episode.
I believe he was hoping for something on a bit of a larger scale, but this is what his specialists came up with, the alea. Of course at the time, the aleas were a lot cruder than what you have here, but the principle was very much the same: a piece of jewellery that had a mantra embedded within it.
Now the only problem with doing this, as the Aztecs were the first to find out, is that when you try and imbue something that has physical form with any kind of mantra, the physical element more often than not alters the very nature of the mantra. Bits and pieces that I've read on the subject start to get a bit vague at this point, but it seems that the very first aleas had shield mantras imbued into them. They were supposed to, at the very last minute, provide a powerful shield that would allow the user to fend off multiple attacks and make a successful escape, when said user used the mantra and broke the particular piece of jewellery. Perfect if you've just been caught in an ambush. You live to run away and fight another day."
"The first couple of times they were used they worked as intended. A shield sprang up around the dragon and enabled it to escape and report back that the alea worked perfectly. Not so, however. The more the war raged on, the more desperate encounters there were. Dragons with aleas were found dead in extraordinary circumstances when they should have escaped, some even taking whole groups of enemies with them. Others reported that instead of a shield appearing when used, the alea produced powerful streams of lightning that struck all of those around them, killing them instantly, no mean feat where dragons are involved."
"The Aztec specialists tried and tried to work out what was going wrong, but to no avail. Eventually the light side won the war, bringing the dark dragons back under control, but only after substantial losses to dragons and humans alike. The aleas proved something of an enigma to all concerned. After that, the Aztecs gave up totally on the concept, believing them too unstable and dangerous.
That, however, is not where things ended. Different dragon factions throughout history have sought to emulate the aleas, all having about as much success as the Aztecs did. Oh, they all claimed to have solved the stability problem, but alas nobody to my knowledge ever came close to producing a stable and reliable alea that worked as it should, all the time."
Peter sat in the chair, hooked on every word the shopkeeper was saying.
"You should come and teach at my old nursery ring. That was absolutely fascinating," praised the young dragon. "Nothing like that was ever covered in my education. Why don't they tell all young dragons?"
"Ah, that, child, is a very good question. Why do YOU think they don't teach it?"
Peter scratched his chin, pondering the question.
"I suppose they don't want dragons tinkering, trying to create their own aleas, what with the instability issues and everything."
Gee Tee nodded in agreement and said,
"That, and the fact that it might encourage some sort of rogue movement, like the dark dragons of the Aztec period. Things like that have started over a lot less in the past."
"Really," exclaimed Peter.
"Of course," replied the master mantra maker. "It might sound unlikely, but I assure you it's a possibility. Evil is always around. You may not see it, but it lurks, waiting for an opportunity in the shadows of the tiny little cracks of reality just outside our souls, waiting for an opportunity to corrupt or exert itself. The king and the Council are fully aware of all of this, and that would be my guess as to why the curriculum is so carefully monitored and set in stone across all nursery rings."
Peter felt as though his head were about to explode with all the new information he'd gleaned today. Briefly, he felt a small pang of envy that his friend was working here full time, day in, day out with Gee Tee.
'What must that be like?' he wondered. The two of them continued to sit in silence for some time, both lost in their thoughts, staring in wonderment at the alea hanging off the chain on the workshop bench. Finally, Peter broke the silence.
"Can I ask how you use it?” he asked, cautiously.
"You really want to know after everything I've told you?" cautioned Gee Tee suspiciously, peering intently over his huge square glasses.
"I'm not going to use it," stammered Peter, unconvincingly.
"You'd have to be either incredibly brave or unbelievably stupid to do so. Makes no difference to me whether you are or not." Picking up the tiny trident, the old dragon waved it around in the air, the purple glow leaving a dissipating trail that took a few seconds to disappear completely.
"If you look past the purple glow child, you should be able to make out a series of words, running down the length of the main shaft and also on each part of the fork."
Leaning in close, Peter squinted intensely, trying his hardest to see the writing that was microscopic at best.
"Come on child, if an old dragon of over six hundred years like me can see it, surely you must be able to make it out."
Peter used all his magical abilities to flick through the range of dragon visions available to him. Finding one that worked, he concentrated on the shaft and prongs. After a few seconds, the letters of the words swam into view and he could just make out the words beneath the purple glow.
"Amplificare... Magicus... Nunc," he said, finally.
"That's right," coaxed Gee Tee. "And that means...?"
He knew what was coming and silently cursed the fact that Latin was easily his worst language. He thought hard and tried to imagine his language tor standing in front of him with the answer. Eventually it came to him, but by now he was feeling unusually hot and more than a little stressed, particularly as the old shopkeeper had been staring at him all this time.
"Amplify Magic Now," he blurted, mentally exhausted.
"Nursery rings seemed to have lowered their standards no end since my day. Anyway, we got there in the end. Amplify Magic Now. It's a bit vague isn't it? It could mean absolutely anything. Anyhow, you wanted to know how to use it."
Peter nodded, not quite sure what he was letting himself in for.
"As with any normal mantra, you can either say the words out loud, or project them in your head, but the difference here is that at the same time, you must use all your strength to snap the trident in half."
"Break it?"
"Of course," stated the master mantra maker. "How else do you think you would release the power that has been imbued in it? Well, as I said before, brave or stupid. I really wouldn't recommend it, so... think very carefully before using it."
"I really have no intention of using it... honest," stressed Peter.
"Whatever you say child, but don't say you haven't been warned," lectured the old dragon. "If you end up with five ears, no nose and a tongue long enough to lick your own tail, you can be sure I'll be the first to say... I told you so."
"I know, and thank you for your advice. It's much appreciated," replied Peter, smiling at the thought of licking his own tail.
"So, is there anything else that an old dragon can help you with? I confess to feeling somewhat tired now, but don't fret child, I've had a very enjoyable evening," said the old shopkeeper, more than a little drained.
A wave of guilt rolled over Peter at having worn the old dragon out again. Tank's words came flooding back. Nevertheless, he decided to press on, knowing that he really needed some guidance on what his next steps should be.
"I don't know what to do about the situation at Cropptech. Rosebloom was no help whatsoever and... I just don't know what to do next."
Gee Tee fiddled with his glasses, thinking about what to tell his young friend.
"It's clear from what you've said that the mantra used at Mark's house was successful, which leads me to conclude that it might rid Garrett's office of whatever evil lurks there, in much the same way. The problem there though, is that even if you got into Garrett's office to use it, there's nothing stopping Manson coming back and starting all over again, because I very much doubt Garrett would be cured instantly; it would only be the first step on his road to recovery."
Peter nodded in agreement.
"That makes sense," he said.
"So, with that out of the question, the only thing I think you can do, is bide your time and try and find some evidence against Manson or something that indicates what his eventual goal is, be that taking over the company, stealing something, or whatever else."
Peter could see now the toll the night's events had taken on the master mantra maker. He looked worn out, and kept yawning between each sentence.
"That's good advice, thanks. I think I'll do just that. Thank you for an unforgettable evening. I won't keep you any longer," declared Peter, meaning every word.
"You are of course, very welcome child," yawned Gee Tee, showing Peter out of the workshop and back to the front door. "Go careful now child, and don't forget you're welcome anytime, but daylight hours are always best."
Peter strolled out into the street, waving the old shopkeeper goodbye, waiting to make sure he could hear the key turn in the lock. Once sure it had been properly secured, he made his way back through the deserted streets and alleys towards the monorail station, feeling happier than he had in some time.
11 Holly Jockey Sticks
Peter woke full of energy. Normally on a Sunday he was bleary eyed and not at all keen on getting up, but the previous night's events had him feeling hugely optimistic about everything in his life. He could still taste the Peruvian Mantra Ink though, almost as if it had merged with the cells in his throat, despite the fact that he'd changed forms since drinking it.
'Hopefully it will dissipate over time,' he thought. Checking his phone once downstairs, he found a text message reminding him that hockey training started the following Tuesday, signalling the start of the season, something he found he'd been missing like crazy all summer.
It was, of course, Richie that had got him into playing hockey after he'd been complaining about a lack of interest in his life, apart from his work, which of course he took very seriously. She'd taken up playing lacrosse some time ago, something most dragons not only frowned upon, but couldn't really see the point of. Yes, dragons had begun to infiltrate most of the popular sports at all levels, mainly professional sport, particularly because the power and adoration that most of them commanded enabled them to influence all levels of society and guide the humans in the right direction. To assume human form and participate in their sport just for fun, without using your dragon abilities seemed... unthinkable to any and all dragons. There had even been stories written in the dragon press about Richie playing lacrosse purely for pleasure, none of which cast her in a very good light, with most questioning, at the very least, her sanity. But as far as Peter could see, it was lava off a dragon's tail to her.
So, after hearing him complain about lacking something in his life, Richie dragged him down to the sports club in Salisbridge one busy Saturday afternoon. He spent all afternoon wandering around the ground, marvelling at the sheer enjoyment all the humans seemed to be getting from being part of a team sport. He'd never really paid any attention to it before, either on the television or anywhere else, and like most dragons, couldn't really see the point, but to see the games up close and personal was just... unbelievable. The passion with which the players pursued their sport, the bonding that seemed to go on in each side, the ferocity and commitment of the challenges being made against the opposition... it was all truly a wonder to behold.
That very afternoon Peter watched Richie play a whole game of lacrosse for the first time and was absolutely agog. Most of the comments in the dragon press referring to Richie almost always maintained that it was impossible for her to play without using her dragon abilities, thereby cheating. This seemed to be the most contentious part of the complaints levelled against her, with most dragons unable to comprehend why she would bother in the first place. But as Peter sat in a cold, wet dugout adjacent to the pitch and watched Richie play, he got a glimpse of something very special. Not only could he tell that Richie didn't use her abilities throughout the whole of the match (something that even he had had reservations about secretly, even though Richie had given her word on more than one occasion that she didn't use her magical abilities) but also it was blatantly obvious to Peter, who had known her nearly her whole life, that she was happier playing lacrosse than Peter had possibly ever seen her. And that includes the moments she would dazzle everyone with her amazing aerial acrobatics, something every dragon loved more than just about anything else.
'How can this running around with sticks, chasing a silly little ball produce so much pleasure?' he wondered for days afterwards. Talking to Tank didn't help either. In fact Tank was so taken aback at what Peter had said, that he had to see for himself the pleasure Richie was obviously getting out of playing in a team alongside humans. Over the coming months, the two friends attended every one of Richie's home games, hoping to find the secret to her happiness, but to no avail. However hard they tried, they just couldn't seem to hit the nail on the head as to what was so captivating about playing in a team. After a few months, Peter and Tank sat down with Richie and asked her to explain it to them. After laughing at the pair of them for what seemed like an age, and then playfully banging their heads together, she told them the only way to find out what they were missing out on, was to try it.
More than a little unsure, Peter and Tank didn't want to let their friend down, and so both agreed to go and train for a few weeks at different sports. Peter chose hockey and Tank rugby. His bigger, stronger build was ideally suited to that particular sport, even though both had really wanted to try lacrosse. Richie insisted that they try something different and said that they could always swap sports further down the line.
Peter could vividly remember turning up to his first hockey training session on a cold, wet Tuesday night. Richie came along and introduced him to the coach and then turned around and left him there... on his own, well... not exactly on his own as there were thirty other players there, but that's how it felt. The previous night Richie had shown him how to hold a stick and how to strike the ball, in his back garden.
Joining in with the other players as they did a gentle warm up in the cold November weather, he noticed even though there was no game going on, they weren't even holdin
g their hockey sticks for goodness sake, there was still an incredible amount of... banter! Everyone from the smallest to the biggest, oldest to the youngest were all chatting, making jokes and just... bonding. Previously he'd thought the bonding thing must have just been during the matches, but on that cold wet windy night, suddenly he wasn't so sure.
Brief warm up finished, the players started to partake in exercises with a stick and ball. He joined in and although he wasn't anywhere near the best, strangely, even without all his magical abilities, he wasn't quite the worst either. Marvelling at the continued banter throughout all the exercises, something he'd wondered if the coach would stop, he was still no nearer to discovering the secret of Richie's happiness. The exercises with a stick and ball were okay, but they sure didn't set Peter's world alight. As the night progressed it got colder and wetter, which strangely, he thought, nobody seemed to mind. Just when he considered calling it a night, the coach blew his whistle (which wasn't bent... get it?) and called everyone in. Divided into two, and given blue and red bibs respectively, the group started a game.
While Richie had been showing him how to hold a stick, she also took to explaining the rules to him, something he had brushed up on much later that evening, via YouTube. It had all kind of gone in, but it was difficult to understand without experiencing it first hand, something he was now doing, and wishing with all his might that things would slow down a bit. The ball was almost a blur. Tackles were being made left, right and centre. Players were shouting for passes and screaming for their teammates to close down the opponent with the ball. He could feel his heart pounding and his temperature rising, no mean feat in the cold and the rain. Rushing about like a headless chicken, he tried desperately to get in the right place to receive a pass from one of his own side. Unfortunately one of his opponents had picked him out and decided to mark him rather tightly, making any pass seem more and more unlikely. He continued to run, trying to lose his marker, but to no avail. Just when he'd thought his chance at getting in on the action had passed, the guy who'd been marking him received the ball from one of his teammates and looked to dribble straight past him, down the wing.
