by Paul Cude
Peter and Tank stared at her in disbelief. Finally Tank asked,
"And?"
"Well," said Richie, moving slightly further forward. "I think what Steel did was... suggest to the ball what it should do."
"Suggest... to the... ball?" mocked Peter.
Tank joined in.
"Oh ball, oh ball... I have a suggestion for you," he called out in a stupid voice.
"Very clever," responded Richie dryly. "I think he planted the suggestion a little more forcibly that that. And yes it's not as ridiculous as you two half-wits seem to think. You wait and see what it says in tomorrow's papers. They normally get to the bottom of stuff like this. Mark my words. If it's not that, then I bet you I'm not a million miles away from what really did happen."
Recognising that they'd been suitably chastised, Peter and Tank knew well enough not to mock Richie any more, not about the same thing anyway. Tank had reached the head of the queue now and was ordering something called a Super Sumptuous Double Deluxe Charcoal Kebab. Peter slavered with anticipation behind him, just at the mere name, and waited patiently for it to appear. When it did, it lived up to its name... and more. The pitta bread that it came in was the size of a small tent, with Tank barely able to hold it in both his giant hands. Inside, delicious roasted meat tangled with vegetables of all shapes and sizes. Peppers, cucumbers, tomatoes, lettuce, carrot, onion, cabbage, they were all there, interspersed with squash ball sized chunks of steaming hot charcoal. It looked and smelled beyond fantastic, and Peter ordered one before the server even had a chance to open his mouth to ask what he wanted. Richie wasn't quite so taken with the monstrosity that was the kebab and opted instead for pitta bread stuffed with just salad, much to her friends' surprise. Making their way to a vacant table, the three friends sat down, remaining quiet, choosing to eat rather than talk, as the crowds around them slowly dwindled. Richie of course finished first, followed by Tank, as a determined Peter steadfastly refused to let the kebab get the better of him. As Peter wrestled with the last giant chunk of charcoal, a shadow fell sharply across the table. Three of the biggest, meanest looking dragons Peter had ever seen stood side by side, towering over Richie. Tank moved first, his chair scraping across the stone of the courtyard as he leapt to his feet. Richie rose calmly, as did Peter, leaving the remainder of his food strewn across the table. Of course there was no real contest. Tank, even as big and powerful as he was in his dragon form, would still only have been about two thirds the size of the smallest dragon facing them. Suddenly, two of the large dragons parted, making way for someone. The troubled, scared and determined looks of the three friends disappeared as a dragon councillor walked serenely into the gap provided.
"Stand down," ordered the councillor.
All three dragons withdrew just slightly, turning their backs, affording the councillor a degree of privacy.
Peter marvelled at the councillor's robes which seemed to shimmer and change colour at will; the complex trident design hadn't changed much in hundreds of years and commanded the same respect now as it had back then.
Tank was more interested in the councillor himself. In all his life, he'd never seen a dragon that was so... slim. Oh he wasn't short, quite the opposite in fact, but he was unbelievably slender and narrow. It didn't help that his stubby little wings were folded behind his back. It gave him the look of a wounded bird rather than a dragon with an air of authority. Also, Tank noted he had very beady little eyes, most strange for a dragon.
Richie had no interest whatsoever in the councillor and now that any potential threat had disappeared, she chose to sit back down in her silver coloured chair.
Casting his beady eyes over all three of them, the councillor asked,
"Are you Richie Rump?"
Surprised, she turned to face him and nodded.
"I am councillor Shady Swampbottom and I need to speak to you, in private please."
A million possibilities ran through her head all at the same time, causing her to smile.
"Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of my friends," she replied nonchalantly.
Forcing his face to remain neutral, the councillor continued,
"It really would be best if we spoke in private, young dragon," he declared, more than a little patronisingly.
That in itself was enough for Richie to take offence. It seemed that the councillor had no choice but to accede to her demand that her companions stay.
"Oh well, as you wish," huffed the councillor, his beady eyes darting back and forth between all three of them. "It has been brought to the attention of the council that you've been flouting one of its primary rules thereby endangering everything that, we as a race, strive to achieve."
'Wow,' thought Richie. 'Don't beat around the bush... come right out and say what you mean.'
'I hope he's going to be a little more specific about exactly what she's done, otherwise there's the potential for all of this to go very badly. I know at least two primary rules she breaks on a very regular basis,' thought Peter.
Tank breathed a sigh of relief. Despite the fact that he would never wish either Richie or Peter to get into trouble with the council, he hoped now that Richie could have some sense talked into her regarding Tim. Nothing good was ever going to come of a dragon and a human having a relationship like that, and it was plain to him that it was only Richie who would suffer in the long run.
As Richie glared frostily at the councillor, she caught Tank's sigh of relief out of the corner of her eye.
"So what exactly is it that you think you know?" she spat, her mood deteriorating by the second.
"There's no 'think' about it," replied the councillor, an edge to his voice. "We know that you've been actively pursuing a relationship with a human on the surface of this planet."
Richie fell silent.
Peter closed his eyes, hoping against hope that common sense would prevail all round and that Richie would agree to stop seeing Tim and just get a slap on the wrist, so to speak. But with the tension around the table rising faster than a thermometer in a supernova, he had visions of it going in quite the opposite direction.
Richie and the councillor locked gazes in a battle of wills. A resounding silence encompassed the tiny area. Stragglers from the thinned out crowd heading for the monorail station, afforded them only a momentary glance.
Eventually the councillor blinked, causing a small smile to slip across Richie's delicate face, much to the councillor's outrage. Clearly not used to this level of disrespect, he had a face like thunder as he reached into his shimmering robes and pulled out a rolled up scroll. Leaning across the table, he handed it to Richie who reluctantly took it from him. Before she had a chance to unroll it, the councillor interrupted.
"It's a decree, signed by the king himself, ordering you to cease your relationship with the human on pain of being banned from the surface of the planet."
Richie stared open mouthed at the scroll in her hands, now that the tables had been well and truly turned, with the councillor wearing a smile on his face as he bade them farewell. The shadow lifted as the councillor and the dragons disappeared off in the direction of the monorail station.
Peter was first to break the ice, despite the fact that he didn't want to.
"It's probably for the best Rich. You know full well that it was only a matter of time before they caught up with you. At least now you know instead of having to constantly look over your shoulder, and you can get on with your life. Don't you think?"
Instead of the measured reply he'd been expecting, Richie turned in the direction of Tank and asked,
"You did this, didn't you? It was you who reported me to the council wasn't it? How dare you?"
Tank looked visibly stunned, and that alone should have told her everything that she needed to know... but it didn't. She was already too far gone to be reasoned with.
"I don't know how you can possibly think it was me, Rich," maintained Tank, getting to his feet. "I didn't and still don't approve of
what you've been doing with Tim as you well know. But I would never jeopardise our friendship over something like that. But since you feel angry enough to speak your mind, so will I. Those rules were put in place for a reason. Dragons and humans are not meant to have that kind of relationship. Think of all the things that could go wrong, and the harm it could do, and not just to the dragons. Think of how much harm you could do to Tim. Think of him growing old and you matching him on the outside with your fancy mantras, but on the inside always being much younger, able to live a longer life. What happens when he dies? You will still have hundreds of years left in front of you. What will you do then? Grab another throwaway human to do with as you will?"
Richie's face contorted so much with anger that she honestly looked as though she might explode. Her cheeks were a brilliant shade of purple while a snarl worthy of the meanest guard dog ran the width of her jaw, with her forehead so creased it looked like a range of tiny mountains. Peter had never seen her so angry, and was more than a little frightened. Tank on the other hand, despite his own anger, was much more in control of his own emotions. His lip quivered a little, more to do with having an argument and hurting his friend than anything else, his kind and caring persona shining through even now, right in the middle of this very dangerous row.
For a split second there was pure silence, Tank and Richie staring menacingly at each other. Peter was sure the argument had run its course and was almost certain Tank would turn around and walk away, leaving Richie alone to calm down in her own time. Not for the first time, he was way off the mark.
Richie took three paces forward towards Tank, invading his personal space, easily within striking distance. If Peter had been feeling braver, and he wasn't quite sure how much braver he would have to feel, but he had a fair idea that it would have to be a lot, he would have stepped between the pair. But on consideration, he would almost rather have faced Manson again on that frozen hockey pitch.
"By your own admission, the rules that forbid humans and dragons interacting on such a level were made thousands of years ago," screeched Richie, poking Tank in the middle of his barrel like chest with the tip of her index finger. "Those same rules clearly cannot be of any relevance today, millennia after they were first dreamt up. Look at how the world has changed in that time, how both races have evolved and advanced. Well I say both races, but in a lot of ways the humans have surpassed us with what they've achieved. The dragon domain has become stagnant not only in what goes on down here but the attitudes of dragons in general. We've become complacent and ignorant of just how far the humans have come. You both know dragons who think of humans as almost... pets, something to be tolerated, put up with, looked after if you like. These dragons think we're doing the humans a favour but I think it's almost the other way round. They have such short life spans and yet almost all of them live life to the full. With a few exceptions they're tolerant of most things and are becoming more so all the time. Overall they strive for peace and a better life for their entire race, but here we are stuck below ground, hiding away with our mantras, passing ourselves off as one of them on the grounds of guiding and protecting them. What a complete load of dragon dung!"
Richie stopped for a breath, her anger seeming to intensify.
"You two," she continued, indicating Peter and Tank with her finger. "You two can almost see all of this. You with your hockey and your JANICE," she said, pointing fiercely at Peter. "Don't tell me you can't feel it in your soul. You know it and I know it. And as for you Rugby Boy," she observed, turning back to face Tank, "you're fooling no one. The rugby does for you what the hockey does for him. And the only reason you haven't attached yourself to an attractive human yet is because the opportunity hasn't presented itself. If you didn't hang out with those drunken half-wit teammates of yours and more importantly, try and join in with all their antics, then almost certainly you would have had the odd nibble from a female or two. You may try and come across all prim and proper but you fool no one.
Of course it would be easy to believe that the outdated principles of that crazy dragon you call an employer had rubbed off on you, but the three of us know each other too well for all that. It's time the two of you took your heads out of your giant scaly backsides and looked at what is happening now, not what has gone on in the past. The council controls everything for better or worse and I'm here to tell you it's worse. They think they are micromanaging everything but it's the big picture they just can't see. I'm willing to concede that the king might be able to, but he just doesn't have the power any more to make any difference. I like him Peter, I really do. But this isn't a hundred, or even two hundred years ago. Things are different and by his own admission he just doesn't have the influence the role once did. Things are changing not just down here, but on the surface. That whole debacle with Manson should be a warning of what will happen if we don't adapt and integrate with the humans. They can be part of something bigger, something that can encompass the whole planet if only they were given the chance, but we as a race are too caught up in tradition, prophecies, mantras, you name it. Before we know it, it'll be too late. Too late for all of us, the humans, dragons, everything, and I for one will not lie down and roll over for dragons that can't see what's coming. I won't be dictated to, now or ever, and the two of you are either with me or not. It's time for everyone to choose," and with that she whirled round and stomped off in the direction of the monorail station.
Unable to move through absolute shock, it was Peter who spoke first.
"Where on earth did all that come from?" he spluttered.
Tank just shook his head in reply, unable to speak. Eventually he did, but it took more than a minute or so.
"I didn't tell anyone... honest Pete."
"I know," replied Peter. "And deep down, she knows too. She's just angry that she's been caught out. It'll be alright in the end, I'm sure."
"I hope you're right my friend. I've never seen her so worked up about anything," declared Tank, slapping his friend playfully on the back.
With that the two of them headed wearily in the direction of the monorail, noting that with the exception of the food vendors who were now busy cleaning away and picking up rubbish, they were the last ones to leave.
14 Flashback
During the course of the following day at work, Peter tried to find his friend, but to no avail. Checking her diary, speaking to her colleagues, he searched for her on all the security monitors, but there was simply no sign of her anywhere. She was in the company somewhere, that was for sure. For one thing, he could sense her dragon presence, a little cloudy and still in a rage, but present, blending in. For another thing, she'd clocked in and he'd gone back and checked the security feed from the main entrance to check it was her. It was. And still he couldn't find her. Not willing to blame her workmates, Richie had obviously told them that she didn't want to see him and so they were covering for her, if indeed they really knew where she was. For the last hour or so he'd tried thinking like her, all... sneaky, but that had got him nowhere. She was bloody clever and he was pretty sure wherever she was now, she was all smug at the thought of how she'd outwitted him. Determined not to give up though, he needed to speak to her about what had happened last night and resolved to try and patch things up between her and Tank.
That evening, he drove home in a huff, having got virtually no work done, and more importantly for him, found no sign of his friend. A few times he'd tried ringing Tank on his mobile, only getting a message saying that it wasn't possible to connect, for his troubles, not particularly surprising given that there was no signal in the area of London where the Mantra Emporium was located. Thoughts of travelling up to London to find his friend crossed his mind, but he figured it would probably be too late and that Tank would have disappeared off home, and Gee Tee might well have donned his stripy nightcap and sloped off to bed. As he perched on the edge of his sofa contemplating what to do next, the doorbell rang.
'Oh good,' he thought to himself sarcastically, 'a chanc
e to change my energy supplier for only the third time this week... just what I need.' But as he neared the very secure front door, a tinge of fear ran down the back of his neck, because the presence that he could feel standing outside wasn't human. This of course was nothing new to him, but he couldn't tell exactly what it was, which in turn caused his legs to feel all weak and sweat to accrue on his hands and forehead. Reaching the door, he very carefully placed his palm directly in the middle of it and in his mind, shouted one word:
"Patefacere." Immediately the door blurred around the edges, before starting to shimmer. Moments later, the shimmering resolved, having turned the door, from his side anyway, totally transparent. And the face looking through at him was as much a relief as it was a joy. Peter whispered,
"Reverti," and the door instantly reverted back to its normal state. Opening the door with a huge grin, Peter cried,
"Flash."
"Hello Peter," replied the permanently changed former Crimson Guard. "How are you?"
"I'm fine thanks. Ummm, why don't you come in?"
"Well, if I'm not disturbing you. If you've got other things on I can come back another time."
"No, not at all. Come in," offered Peter, holding the door open.
Flash walked down the hallway as Peter closed the door.
"It's great to see you again," announced Peter excitedly. "How have you been?"
"Ahhh... you know Peter... not too bad. It's still all sinking in... you know, everything that's happened."
"I bet."
"The king's been really great about everything though. I've moved out of the Crimson Guard barracks and have been staying with him in his private residence."
"Fantastic," replied Peter.
"Yeah, it's pretty cool."
"Surely it must be a little cramped though?" joked Peter.
Flash smiled.
"I must admit I struggle with just one floor to myself, but I make do as best I can."
At the thought of Flash wandering all alone around a whole floor of the king's private residence, Peter let out a loud, raucous laugh. It took more than a few seconds for his mouth to stop laughing so that he could once again use it for talking.
