Bentwhistle the Dragon Box

by Paul Cude

  Perched on the edge of the unmade bed, he fumbled with the lancet pen, his hands shaking from the day's events. Just as he finished turning the top of the pen in the correct combination, his back erupted with yet another painful seizure, for what seemed like the thousandth time that day. As the pen cartwheeled to the floor, Flash fell back on top of the bed, writhing in agony as wave upon wave of excruciating pain zigzagged over his back. Heat rushed through his comparatively frail human shape. Normally there's nothing more a dragon likes than heat, but this was different, almost evil in its intent. It shot upwards from his back, bathing his head and neck, causing sweat to break out. It took all his willpower not to throw up as he rolled about on the soft bed. With the pain and heat battering his already weakened body, he could have been forgiven for not hearing the door to his room open quietly and then close in exactly the same way. Burying his head in the sweat covered pillow, he breathed deeply as the pain started to subside. Lying face down on the bed, as this seemed slightly less painful than lying directly on his back, his thoughts darted back to the lancet pen and recovering all the magical energy he'd already lost. Draping his right hand over the side, he scrabbled about on the floor with his fingers, trying to find the pen, without any luck. Abruptly, a rapturous, throaty laugh enveloped the tiny room. Very slowly, he rolled over. Standing at the foot of his bed was a tall, blonde female scientist, Dr Alison Manilow, if his near perfect memory served him correctly. She was holding the primed lancet pen in one hand, a pistol with a silencer in the other.

  "Looking for this?" she enquired glibly.

  Flash considered his options in all but a split second. He needed the lancet pen. If he could get to it, taking her down shouldn't present too much of a problem. Without the pen, he was almost certainly destined to die here and now.

  "You've caused us no end of problems today," she sneered, a hint of steel in her throaty voice.

  Not knowing what else to do, Flash just gave her the biggest, toothiest smile he could muster, hoping it might anger her enough to get distracted.

  "You'll no doubt be pleased to hear that we won't be taking you back to the dungeon."

  Knowing she meant it, and that she fully intended to kill him, strangely, a small part of him was pleased to hear this. Death was much better than living out his days in the same way as the other prisoners that he'd briefly glimpsed, of that he was certain. And having seen all that for himself, if he hadn't been sure before that they were going to kill him, he knew only too well that he'd seen too much to be left alive. He was out of time and options.

  Feigning the start of one of his back spasms, he moved with all the speed and agility he could muster. Quick wasn't really apt, in human terms you understand. Unfortunately a naga's idea of quick was very much like that of a dragon. They had outstanding reflexes and speed of thought, much to Flash's disappointment. Rolling across the bed, he then sprung head first at the naga, who hadn't moved an inch. Instead, she shot him twice from the hip with the suppressed pistol, piercing his shoulder and abdomen. Trying to use his momentum to continue forward, the shots slowed him right down. Smiling wickedly, Dr Manilow let go a swift kick with one of her perfectly formed legs, catching him straight in the unmentionables, causing him to curse the fact that his human shaped body had been so accurately formed. Grabbing him by the throat, as blood raced from his bullet wounds, the beautiful Dr Manilow, a sneer on her face, did the single stupidest thing she could have done, the one single thing that would enable him to win. She stabbed him right in the eye with the lancet pen. Automatically he howled in pain and terror, continuing to do so as the compressed magical energy rushed into his body like an out of control freight train. Within a thousandth of a second he'd cast two mantras with his mind, one to heal the gunshot wounds he'd already suffered, the other to protect him from any more bullets. With the doctor gazing straight at him from only an arm's length away, he quit screaming and very carefully pulled the lancet pen from his eye, flooding the area with magic as he did so. Dr Manilow's sneering expression of victory disappeared faster than an MP rushing to claim their expenses. She moved her arm slightly, to aim the silenced gun at his head, but he disarmed her in a fraction of a second with a sharp kick to her right knee, followed by a speeding punch to her solar plexus and then a pivoting kick to remove the gun from her hand. Regaining her composure, Dr Manilow came at him faster than he would have believed possible. Kicks and punches rained down on him as the human shaped naga put everything she had into the attacks. Boosted by the magic, it was as if time had slowed right down. Not only able to anticipate the attacks, but formulate a strategy and then implement it before the assault had even reached him, the shock was evident on Dr Manilow's face. After the fifth such strike from the, by now flagging doctor, Flash made a block with the underside of his right arm and then returned the poorly implemented show of aggression with a sharp kick to the doctor's left knee, instantly rewarded with a sickening CRUNCH, as she dropped unceremoniously to the hard concrete floor. Knowing things had to end now, in one smooth motion, he grabbed the suppressed pistol and pumped the entire round of bullets into Dr Manilow's forehead. With a THUD, her blood splattered corpse slumped back to the floor, motionless.

  Wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his right hand, still gripping the pistol tightly, he sat down on the bed, breathing heavily from the exertion of the fight., his whole body shivering violently. Closing his eyes, he fully expected his back to spasm and waves of pain to overcome him. But it never happened. A feeling of nausea and bone weary tiredness swept through him, but he knew he had to push on, or everything he'd been through would be for nothing. With his legs feeling as if they'd turned to lead, willing them to work, knowing that he had to return to the dragon domain as quickly as possible, a plan that had been in the back of his mind all along became a distinct possibility, now that he was aided by a reasonable amount of magical energy. First of all though, he needed to clear up the mess from the fight, starting with the good doctor.

  All Crimson Guards were equipped with just about every mantra that had ever existed. From the simplest to the most intricate, nothing was beyond the capabilities of their agents. Mostly, it was just a case of knowing the correct mantra for the corresponding occasion, whilst maintaining a reasonable supply of magical energy. While most situations could be dealt with by rather vague, powerful, blanket mantras, they were by their very nature magically intensive. It was little or no use to an agent to use draining mantras constantly, only to find themselves in a life threatening situation shortly after, with virtually no magic left to draw on.

  Taking a few moments to consider his situation, he knew that for his plan to work, he would most definitely need to retain some of his mana for later. If not for his debilitating back injury, he would normally just cast a high intensity blanket mantra that would restore the room back to normal, clearing all the blood, DNA and broken items away as it did so. Not having enough magical energy to spare, he pulled off the top blankets from the rather messy bed and set about the grisly task of wrapping Dr Manilow's body up in them. Pulling one of the pillow cases free, he then did his best to wipe away all the traces of blood he could see on the walls and floor.

  'It probably isn't perfect,' he thought, 'but all I have to do is fool people long enough to be far, far away.' After wiping down all the blood he could find, he stripped off the stolen jacket and trousers, making sure the pistols and ammunition were tucked away firmly in the pockets, and added them to the bundle that encased the deceased doctor. Once done, he shoved the wrapped up body as far back underneath the bed as it would go. Reaching out, he let his index finger gently rest against the gruesome package. Closing his eyes, he let the words he'd used hundreds of times before, flow through his mind.

  "Blend into the scenery that sits all around,

  Invisibility and stealth to you shall be bound.

  Only a mantra of power so strong,

  Will knowingly undo all that is wrong."

  Immediately,
the wrapped up bundle disappeared. Pulling his finger away, he then thrust it back out towards... nothing. Sure enough, it hit something solid and invisible. Satisfied that the mantra had done its job in turning everything invisible, he slid out from beneath the bed and got painfully to his feet, still able to hear voices and running feet from the main corridor, but they seemed less chaotic and more measured. Not knowing how much longer he could go without being discovered, he swiftly retrieved the spare leggings and jacket out of his kit bag, shoving them on as quickly as possible, not needing any gloves or goggles for what he had planned, quite the opposite in fact. Zipping up the bags, making the room look exactly as it had before he'd returned, with the exception of some of the bedding, he very carefully headed back towards the corridor and the same exit he'd used to re-enter the base. Using his enhanced hearing, he waited in the alcove until he knew the corridor was clear. Sprinting for all he was worth, he made it to the exit unseen. Checking to make sure no one was visible outside, he carefully let himself out into the snowy wilderness, hoping he had enough magical energy to cast the two remaining mantras his plan called for. If he hadn't, it would all be over.

  Standing just outside the door, he closed his eyes and once again found the words he needed, putting just enough belief and magic behind them to achieve his goal.

  "Cover my tracks mighty wind and air,

  Impossible for anyone to follow me there.

  Leave not a single trace of my being,

  So that no one knows in which direction I'm fleeing."

  Standing in the snow outside the thick white door, he had to make sure that the mantra he'd just cast had taken effect. So he took two steps forward, the snow crunching under his boots as he did so. Twisting his head over his right shoulder, he gazed back at the spot he'd been standing in. His two dirty great footprints were about three inches deep, but as he watched, something quite literally magical happened. A swirl of wind, about the size of one of his boots, appeared from nowhere, directly over one of the footprints. Gently it lowered itself into the print, causing the beautifully formed, crystalline snowflakes to flutter about briefly, before settling back down. The footprint had been wiped away. Moving across to the other footprint, the small swirl of wind did exactly the same again. Smiling at the simplicity of it all, he felt confident he wouldn't leave any tracks, and so very quickly and carefully he started to make his way around the station, to the opposite side to that of the explosion. As he'd hoped, the disturbance had drawn people towards it, and with the exception of one very close shave with one of the base's engineers who was retrieving materials from one of the outbuildings, he completed his journey without being spotted. As sure as he could be that nobody was watching, he put on a burst of speed so that he ended up about five hundred yards away from the nearest outlying building. In his mind, he cut off the tiny trickle of magic that was constantly being drained in covering up his tracks. Widening his footsteps ever so slightly, as if to signify a stagger, he headed directly for the main building, still making sure he wasn't being watched, This, he thought, was where it would hopefully all come together, if, and it was a big if, he still possessed enough magic to cast the final mantra and make everything fit together. Deep inside he knew it was going to be close.

  Still staggering towards the main building, he opened his jacket to about halfway, picked up a handful of snow and rubbed it into his hair and face, while at the same time, in his head, searched for the mantra that would ultimately get him back to civilisation and the dragon domain. Knowing what he was about to do was dangerous, in oh so many ways, it was the only thing he could think of that would get him back to somewhere remotely civilised really quickly. Trying to think of the words he needed, he could feel the heat and pain in his back start to build up. Silently, he cursed, knowing that he needed to cast the mantra now. If he could, it wouldn't matter if his back went into total meltdown, in fact, as much as he didn't like to think it, it might just make the whole thing more realistic. Unfortunately the words wouldn't come. For some reason they seemed hard to find, and the heat and the pain in his back were starting to become a distraction. Finally he found them, and accessing the remaining magic available to him, closed his eyes and began to concentrate.

  "My skin and body, make them old,

  Hard, pale tissue, blackened by cold.

  My body overwhelmed by serious frostbite,

  Looking like I've been abandoned for many a night."

  Just as Flash finished casting the mantra and it began to take effect, his back erupted with fiery slices of pain weaving up and down, left and right. Instantly he dropped to his knees, eventually falling face down into the crunchy, wispy, white snow. In a strange way he stifled a laugh. Although his back hurt more than he thought possible, the changes the mantra were adding to his human shaped physique were undoubtedly more painful.

  'Ha... the pain from the mantra is taking my mind off the pain in my back. How ironic is that?' was his last thought before he blacked out, face down in the snow. As he lay there, the mantra he'd cast followed its instructions to the letter, changing Flash's body and using up the last of the residual magic inside it. Mantra makers across the dragon kingdom would have been proud of the results of this particular beauty, even the famed and hard to please... Gee Tee. All across his body, the previously pristine flesh had been replaced by hard, pale skin, blackened dead tissue and horrifying blisters that would put even the most ardent marathon runners to shame. His hands, feet, nose and ears were the worst hit areas, as they would have been if he were genuinely human and had been stranded in the freezing wilderness on his own for a seriously long time. As well as replicating the frostbite down to the last detail, the mantra would also make him appear weak, confused and disorientated. Once he was found, he hoped it wouldn't take the staff at the base too long to figure out that he needed expert medical attention that he could only receive somewhere else... rather a long way away. That was the hope.

  He awoke in debilitating pain. Despite the fact that he was supposed to be clear headed and cool underneath all the symptoms of the mantra, clearly the wound on his back was playing a massive part in things, because he felt worse than ever. Managing briefly to get to his feet and stagger some twenty feet or so, before once again blacking out, this round of events continued another four or five times, over the course of how long, he had no idea. Midway through his last excruciating stagger, he heard a scream off to one side. Dropping to his knees, he saw two figures in his peripheral vision running towards him, his life, he thought, was very much in their hands.

  Every now and then he'd regain consciousness, vaguely able to remember bright lights overhead, voices, lots of different kinds of voices, and wires and tubes poking out of his damaged body. Eventually he'd lose consciousness all over again, this twisted routine repeating itself over and over again.

  The voices weren't getting any clearer. Somewhere inside him, a little thought poked at him, telling him that he really should be able to recognise who the voices belonged to. His mind continued to ignore the thought and continued to hide in the dark recesses that it had made its own. Although he couldn't recognise the people the voices belonged to, he did start to recognise the urgency with which they spoke. Urgency was good, he thought. Urgency would get him out of this frozen hellhole and back to somewhere he could slip into the dragon domain and board the monorail back to London.

  Tiny, intricate flakes of snow fluttered past his face, the next time he came round. Panic gripped him. Were they taking him back to the prison? Had he played right into their hands? Before he could find out the answer, he blacked out.

  Realising he was somewhere different, he steadied the rising panic within his mind, so that just an underlying nervousness accompanied him. Looking up at a dirty white, narrow ceiling, he could just make out someone barking instructions but they were all but drowned out by an incredibly loud whirring noise that seemed to be everywhere. The sound of a door slamming shut close by made him jump, causing his back to spasm o
nce again, just as the whirring got louder and his body recognised the sensation of movement. He was in some sort of vehicle, he thought fuzzily as his mind struggled to cut through the pain in an effort to make sense of it all. And then, with the noise increasing tenfold, it all became startlingly clear.

  'I'm in a plane.' As the comforting feeling of the plane powering into the air tickled his body, a small tear ran down the side of his face.

  'I'm going home,' he thought. 'I'm going home.' Once more the darkness took him.

  6 And Today's Date is... Janice!

  Deciding to walk into town to meet Janice, he hoped it was far too early to be full of drunken lunatics despite it being Friday night, as it was only ten minutes away. Feeling more and more tired as the week had gone on, being back at Cropptech was fantastic, and he couldn't have been happier, but he was absolutely beat. His injuries, despite looking fully healed, were anything but, and the more he thought about it, the more it bothered him. Would they ever heal, or would he stay in this continued state of tiredness for the rest of his life? Would his life expectancy be affected in any way? These were just a couple of the questions that played on his mind regularly.