Bentwhistle the Dragon Box

by Paul Cude

  Perched on the edge of the rocky slab that had now fallen back into place, she watched the bright, thick red blood ooze down her ankles and silently drop into the sand below, all the time catching her breath after what had been a frantic ten minutes. Both her feet hurt like hell, but there was nothing she could do about that just now.

  Channelling as much of her magic as she dared into the damaged skin, she hoped they would begin to heal. As the crazed mob battered the rocky slab in frustration from the other side, she took in the contents of the totally dark room she found herself in. Nearly choking on the dust particles hanging in the air, she hadn't come across anywhere that had smelt this musty and old. Not only that, but nearly every single thing was covered in layer after layer of spiders' webs.

  'Oh great... spiders,' she thought, shivering.

  Weapons and tools clinked and rattled on the other side of the doorway, the noise prompting her into action, despite the fact that she just wanted to sit and heal up. Carefully she slid down the side of the slab, leaving a trail of thick blood from her ankles in her wake. Stepping gingerly onto the sandy floor, her ankles sent agonising waves of pain up through her legs as she tried to move. Parting the terrifying spiders' webs that were everywhere, she started to investigate the room, while attempting to ignore the sound of the angry mob.

  Moments later, she realised where she was - a small burial chamber of some sort, and if her normally efficient sense of direction wasn't off, the hidden chamber appeared to be somewhere between the King's chamber and the Queen's chamber.

  'Fancy that,' she thought to herself, 'a secret chamber inside Khufu's pyramid, halfway between the two chambers and I have to get stuck in it.' Under more pleasant circumstances, she'd have been ecstatic about her discovery, but she had to get out and get a message to the council. It was all that mattered now.

  Deciding very quickly that she was bored of the cold and darkness, carefully she searched the pots and jars inside the chamber for some papyrus. Despite the urgency of her situation, she took great care for fear of accidentally opening one of the canopic jars (containing either the mummified liver, lungs, stomach or intestines of someone extremely important) that surrounded the large sarcophagus, almost certainly containing a mummy of some sort. The last thing she wanted to do was to disturb any of those. Although knowing on a logical level from her dragon training that the religious tendencies of the humans were nothing more than a false belief, she still maintained a great respect for them. Eventually reaching into an ornate pot with gold decoration, she found what she was looking for: a tightly wound piece of papyrus. Gently pulling it out, she set about unwinding it. After that she retrieved one of the biggest bones she could find from a skeleton that sat propped up against the wall furthest from the doorway through which she'd entered the chamber. Wrapping the papyrus tightly around the bone at one end, she mentally switched off her enhanced vision and concentrated on producing any sort of flame from her mouth. Not realising how chilly she'd become, it was something of a chore to conjure up a tiny dribble of fire, that hiccupped into life pathetically. Waving the papyrus through the heat, her heart leapt as the fire took hold and the makeshift torch burned and crackled with intent.

  'Thank goodness,' she thought, watching the flickering light play over her dusty surroundings, the tiny source of heat feeling good on her exposed flesh. All she'd had on when she'd entered the pyramid was a tight fitting ankle length dress, with two shoulder straps, and a decorative collar that adorned her neck. Regardless of the mind-bogglingly high temperatures outside, the inside of the pyramid was incredibly cold. Waving the torch up and down her body, she rejoiced at the warmth from its flames licking each and every part of her pale flesh. Mere moments later, she decided it was best to get on with the job at hand: survival. Before doing anything else, she crafted two more torches in much the same way as the first, concerned by the sudden silence of the baying mob that, up until a few minutes before, had been clawing and scratching at the blocked entrance way.

  With the torches made and ready to be lit at a moment's notice, she set about investigating everything else in the chamber, everything except the mummy, that is. Even though she knew exactly what it was, she still had no desire to disturb it unless it was absolutely necessary and her entire existence depended upon it.

  After half an hour, she'd investigated all she could, apart from the mummy and the canopic jars. Her inventory, laid out in front of her, consisted of a necklace of golden flies, a half used scribe's palette with two used blocks of ink (one red, one black); two adzes (small carpenters' tools, one much more blunt that the other): half a dozen reed pens; two beaded bracelets; a glass container shaped like a fish that smelt of perfume; a polished bronze mirror and a small wooden good luck charm shaped like a man. Not quite sure what she'd been hoping for, she was certain it wasn't anything like this.

  As the first of her torches started to splutter and die, she lit one of the fresh ones, once again appreciating the heat and light above all else.

  After composing her thoughts for a few moments, and warming herself on the freshly lit torch, she knew where to start... well, almost. She had ink, she could write several messages in case escape proved beyond her.

  'How to get some water though, that is the question.'

  Immediately it came to her. Picking up the mirror, she carried it over to the darkest, coldest corner of the chamber. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled onto the cold surface, her breath condensing instantly as it did so. After a few more breaths, she couldn't see her own reflection any more. Leaving it carefully in the sand, she rushed back to the flickering torch, towering over her pathetic looking inventory. Spending a few minutes circling the crackling torch, warming her tiny body, she wove her way back to the mirror. Sure enough, the condensation had started to turn into water, and as she moved the mirror in different directions, small drops ran down its reflected surface. Taking the mirror back to the inventory, she dipped the tip of one of the reed pens into the moisture on the mirror, before gently prodding it into the red ink in the palette. Repeating the procedure a few times, eventually she had enough runny red ink for her purposes.

  Poised with the reed pen in her hand, she stopped to think for a moment. What could she write? Anything too obvious and it would almost certainly be covered up or destroyed by Ptolemy's cohorts. Scanning the chamber for inspiration, she noticed two of the walls were covered in hieroglyphics. Not just a few, but thousands of them.

  'This,' she thought, 'could be just what I'm looking for.' It didn't take long for her to realise that everything she required was right here in front of her. Shutting her eyes tightly, she visualised the runny red ink. As she did so, whispered ancient words flowed across her tongue, almost hovering in the air before her. Opening her eyes and looking down at the ink, she seemed satisfied that the mantra she'd cast had worked. Quickly she got on with what she had to do, the unerring silence spurring her on. Halfway through she had to stop and light the remaining torch as the previous one spluttered out of existence. Five minutes later she'd finished her message to the council. It had been easy really, she thought, taking in her masterpiece. Using the ink, she had covered particular hieroglyphs on both walls with the mantra she had cast, having altered the properties of the liquid, in effect turning it ultraviolet. Normal humans wouldn't notice anything, but a dragon trained to switch through their different visions would instantly recognise the message:

  "Ptolemy attempting to murder Alexander's sons, so he can be king himself - Aviva Longwings."

  Having spent too long admiring her labour, she set about removing the excess ink and destroyed the reed pens, covering all traces of her work. Her top priority had been a message for the council, now that she knew about the underhand treachery that was afoot, knowing full well that if she failed to report in, they would send another dragon to investigate. Whoever it was would find the message and hopefully the council would be able to stop Ptolemy's despicable plan before it came to fruition. Now it was time to l
eave if at all possible and hopefully report to the council in person. It was time to find a way out.

  Standing in the middle of the chamber, next to the sarcophagus, Aviva closed her eyes and once again altered her vision so that she could see in the dark. Mindful to avoid looking at the torch, she took in the rest of the chamber, in particular the ceiling high up above. From what she could see, it seemed to extend to a point, some sixty feet or so above her. Two thirds of the way up, on one of the walls without the hieroglyphs, was what looked like a small hole. What made Aviva think it might be more than it appeared was that the gap itself was perfectly square in shape. During her investigation she'd heard rumours that the humans had added vents to some of the chambers so that the spirit of the deceased could head up to the stars and into the afterlife. Of all the vents she'd heard about, none ever seemed to reach the outside of the actual pyramid itself.

  'Still,' she thought, 'it's not like I've got much choice. I just need to figure out how to get up there.'

  Aware that the last of her torches was over halfway through its short lifespan, Aviva had a quick scout round in an attempt to find some more papyrus. Unfortunately, she'd used the last of it, and didn't really want to be without a torch, not so much because of the light, although that was partly it, but more because of the heat. Even a small heat source like a torch was enough to warm her up and make her dragon abilities easier to access. With nothing else for it, moving reluctantly to the centre of the chamber, cautiously, she started to slide the lid off the sarcophagus. It was tough going, even with her enhanced dragon strength. Despite knowing otherwise, there was still something eerie and creepy about revealing the contents. As even staler air swished out of the tomb, Aviva held her breath as the mummy inside revealed itself. Determined to take only what she needed, she tore off some of the fabric encompassing the remains of the long dead emperor, knowing it was just what she required to make more torches.

  With five more torches completed, she reluctantly crept back to the half open sarcophagus, searching for something that had caught her eye when she'd first opened it. Sure enough, poking out from the upper left hand side of the mummy's body was a spectacular, jewel-laden dagger. Nervously, Aviva reached in and grabbed it by the hilt. An unexpected, full on surge of power raced through her, unlike anything else she'd ever experienced. Wandering over to the burning torch, she studied its detail in the only light available. Turning the dagger over and over in the iridescent light, brightly coloured rubies and emeralds sparkled beyond belief. That, however, was not the most amazing feature of the weapon. What had taken her breath away was the fact that with the exception of the jewels, the rest of the dagger had been forged from... laminium! Standing dazed for what seemed like minutes, studying the awe inspiring blade, probing its hidden power, not only had she never seen anything like it, she'd also never heard of anything like it either, and she prided herself on knowing dragonkind history. Yes, there were plenty of rings, amulets, earrings, belt buckles even, but a dagger... impossible... and yet here it was, twisting around in the palm of her hand. Even trapped in this cold dark tomb, she could feel the power of the laminium ignite the dragon magic inside her. Up until now, she hadn't realised how cold she'd gotten, and just how much it had drained her, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. Quickly the laminium in the dagger changed all of that. Starting to feel totally invigorated, as if she'd just jumped out of a dirty great lava pool in her natural dragon form, with the dagger in her possession, she quickly revaluated her situation. Moments ago she planned to split the sarcophagus in two and try to stand the two halves on top of one another, with a view to getting as close as possible to the opening. But now, with her dragon powers magnified by the laminium in the dagger, there might just be another way.

  Stalking around the room, she let her enhanced imagination run wild with all the possibilities. Time and again, the same solution presented itself. Walking past the spluttering torch for a third time, her perception caught a sense of something. Stopping abruptly, she ceased worrying about getting out and concentrated on her surroundings.

  'There it is again,' she thought. Just on the edge of her perception, a something, or group of somethings, was heading her way, murderous intent driving them on.

  Brought back to her surroundings by the crackle of the flame and the acrid smell of smoke, she knew it was time to leave the chamber, and quickly. Discarding her old dagger for the magical laminium one, which she tucked tightly into the belt on her dress, she pushed aside all doubt about what she was going to do. The solution that kept popping up seemed more than a little risky, but with something ominous heading her way, she was more than prepared to take that chance. Bounding over to the sarcophagus, she slid the lid back on and removed her sandals, knowing that for the latter part of what she had in mind, bare feet would be critical.

  "Awww," she groaned as she clutched her head in pain, able to feel them now, getting closer by the second. And they had something with them, something that would... finish her for good, if their thoughts were anything to go by.

  'This is it,' she thought, suddenly exhilarated by the realisation that, one way or another, her fate would be decided in the next few minutes. She would either escape or die. Smiling, part of her wouldn't have it any other way. It wasn't her first time in this situation by any means, but each and every time she found herself here, she always swore that it would be her last. Backing up to the cold stone wall, facing the length of the stunningly carved sarcophagus, she took a large, calming, deep breath, knowing they were close, if her enhanced hearing was anything to go by.

  With a shake of her head and a wry smile, Aviva opened her eyes and sprinted towards the sarcophagus, dipping into her dragon magic to augment her speed. Five paces in, she jumped onto the ancient tomb, tearing along its entire length. Reaching the end of the sarcophagus, and with every last ounce of power she could muster, her lithe form leapt as high as it could, up the dark stone wall in front of her. Mid jump, she adjusted her centre of gravity, changing her direction just slightly, aiming to hit the wall full on with her feet. Bending her knees, a moment turned into years as she closed in on the wall. Timing it to perfection, she impacted the wall, and with her knees bent, pushed off at an angle that would take her higher up. With a whirlwind of magic supporting her, she shot up the wall, before somersaulting over and across to the opposite side. All she had to do now was continue this, three more times. In the blink of an eye, the next two transitions came and went, all perfectly executed in the manner of the first, but just as it was time for the last one, something far below interrupted her concentration, and instead of hitting the wall cleanly and kicking off, she smacked her foot badly, barely kicking off at all. On any one of the previous transitions, it would have proven disastrous, but because she was right at the top of the ever narrowing ceiling, there was a fleeting chance to turn things around. Literally only a few feet from the square hole of the vent, twisting awkwardly, she thrust out her right arm. Slapping against the side of the opening, as she started to slide down, her fingers scrabbled to grasp hold of the edge. However cold she had been, sweat now raced down her forehead, back and arms as she dangled precariously over the edge of the vent, by just her fingers.

  Ignoring the thick beads of sweat that trickled down her nose, she suddenly heard a 'tick, tick, tick' sound from far below. Turning her head and forcing the thought of the drop to the back of her mind, she could, with her enhanced senses, just make out the small gap at the top of the door through which she'd entered, dozens of tiny fluorescent shapes flooding through it.

  'Oh no,' she thought, 'not scarab beetles, anything but those... please.'

  Sounding like the best stocked clock and watch shop in the world, the 'tick, tick, tick' continued to assault her ears as the tiny bright blue shapes carpeted the sandy floor below. Knowing it wouldn't be long before they locked on to her scent, if they hadn't already, they would have no problem in scaling the walls and coming after her. Mustering all her c
oncentration, and with her muscles burning like an ironsmith's forge, gently, she started to swing from side to side. Even boosting her magic with the laminium dagger did little to ease the pain in her fingers that threatened to overwhelm her. Ignoring the deadly blanket of insects far below, Aviva gave her all. Thirty seconds later, the swinging paid off, and she was able to bring her other arm up and grab the ledge. Pulling herself up so that she was half inside the vent, she paused to catch her breath and give her aching arms time to recover, sweat dripping off her nimble legs, dropping into the darkness below.

  Scuttling feet and 'tick, tick, ticking,' jolted her from her rest. Pulling herself fully into the vent, she turned to face outwards, no mean feat in the confined space. Looking out, she could see that the insects had caught her scent and, after completely covering the sarcophagus, were now rushing up the walls on all sides of the chamber. With her only option to retreat, she crawled backwards and waited for them to come swarming over the edge. Sure enough, before she'd backed up ten feet, the first wave swarmed over the lip of the vent. Stopping, she knew that trying to outrun them would be futile. Fingering the laminium dagger, wishing that it would heighten her abilities enough, she closed her eyes, knowing that she only had one hope left. Reaching inside, she searched for the feeling that all dragons have, deep down past their stomachs. Scarab beetles trickled towards her on all four sides of the exhaust that she found herself in. Finding her magic, and with a measure of concentration, the feeling coalesced with the deep breath she'd taken. A measure of calm washed over her on realising it was going to work. Blowing out in the same way she would as her alter ego, a mighty stream of flame lit up the vent like a team of university students lighting their own farts.