Bentwhistle the Dragon Box

by Paul Cude

  "GAS!" repeated the manager.

  "I'm sure," reiterated the diminutive bar worker.

  "Ahh... well, in that case, perhaps it's best if we all stay here a while longer and wait for the fire brigade to turn up," stuttered the manager, a little feebly.

  "I think that's very wise," replied the bubbly blonde, walking back towards the large crowd of men, women and children gathered as far away from the clubhouse as possible, hoping desperately that she'd bought her friends enough time.

  * * *

  Thousands of miles away across the Atlantic, time had just run out. The hot, sunny, cloudless day had been rudely interrupted by the mother of all explosions halfway up the oldest skyscraper in the city. Pounding through every floor, the blast incinerated almost everything in its path. Concrete, metal and glass tore off every which way, forming lethal projectiles searching for something to pierce.

  The main mass of the building crumpled to the ground, huge chunks of its superstructure impacting the area all around it, spewing lethal clouds of dust and rubble in all directions.

  Power and kinetic energy from the mighty blast assaulted the surrounding skyscrapers, making them all shake. Two toppled and fell, with the same devastating destruction as the first. Thousands died. If it had been a week day, it would have been more.

  As the waves of dust and debris continued moving out in a concentric circle, raging fires sprang up as if from nowhere, as in the distance, noisy sirens of the first responders heading towards the emergency, echoed across the rooftops.

  Dragons had died too, the psychic wave encompassing the huge underground community, as well as one of the busiest monorail stations on the continent. First responders arrived there as well, but it was far too late to do anything. Perfectly formed dragon corpses littered the pristine underground world for miles and miles around. Immediately the council were informed. Again, there was nothing they could do.

  Both above and below ground, the stunning city of Seattle would never be the same again.

  * * *

  Holding each other tight in this most unlikely of meeting places, the dipping temperature had started to bite. She'd never liked the cold, understandable really, but here and now it was a small price to pay to be with HIM! Just being in his arms felt somehow magical, almost as if she didn't have a care in the world. Despite all the reasons that she should, she never wanted to give that up.

  * * *

  Moving quickly now, Tank had completed all the mantras on the ground floor. For the final one, he'd had little choice but to borrow some of Peter's magical energy, as his reserves were running quite low and the mantra required to contain the blast from the imminent explosion was mana intensive, so much so that the rugby playing dragon wasn't entirely sure that they'd have sufficient reserves between them. Focusing intently, he soldiered on, bounding up the stairs two at a time, ready for the top floor.

  Hearing his friend approaching, Peter readied himself for more magical spell casting, feeling a little like a spare part, with his friend doing all the running and casting. Deep down he knew it couldn't be helped... after all, Tank knew the mantra and he didn't, but still, that didn't stop him from feeling utterly redundant, just sitting there, letting his friend draw on his reserves when needed. Briefly he wished he had the dagger... Aviva's laminium dagger. With that, there would be no need to worry about having enough mana. But stupidly, or sensibly, depending on your perspective, it was safely tucked away deep inside his home, under very stringent safeguards, but it too would be caught in the explosion if his friend's shielding plan didn't work. Sitting nervously at one of the tables in the expansive function room, keeping his mind open to his friend, ready to give everything he had, he tried dreadfully hard not to think about Janice and everyone else from the sports club standing outside, as well as the thousands of innocent people in the surrounding area who were blissfully unaware of the very real danger that right at this very moment was counting down, mere feet away from him.

  * * *

  North America took the brunt of yet another cataclysmic explosion. As the numerals lit up the confined space behind the brick wall deep within the sewer system, on reaching six minutes and three seconds, yet another randomly discharged signal instructed another motherboard that it was time, carrying out its job to perfection.

  Below ground, just west of the Fulton River District was the epicentre that the deadly wave rippled out from, reaching as far north as River West, stopping just short of River North on its eastern edge, failing to topple any of the substantial skyscrapers of downtown Chicago. The wreckage stopped some two blocks short of reaching Greektown on its southern edge. Homes, small businesses, shops and car parks were all destroyed, along with a Chicago police department building, numerous police cars and motorbikes. The Kennedy Expressway and the Chicago Edens Expressway were eradicated, along with all the cars that had the misfortune to be travelling along them at the time. Next came the Chicago Transit Authority's Green Line which was reduced to practically nothing. Metal support girders were wiped out, along with all the track. Silver carriages of trains travelling along the line lay scattered about the area, most cut open along their entire length, their occupants given absolutely no chance whatsoever. A war zone was the best way to describe the carnage that remained. Producing a tidal wave along the length of the Chicago river which damaged the sluice gates on the waterfront, the explosive blast was heard over one hundred miles away.

  In conjunction with the human world above, the dragon domain suffered incredible losses as the psychic wave tore through it, destroying the Chicago monorail station, leaving no dragon standing. Although there were not nearly as many fatalities as in some of the other blast sites, it was dumb luck that the main dragon residential area beneath Chicago was a vast distance away from the city centre above ground. Still, dragon responders in the King's Guard were once again horrified at the scenes that greeted them on arrival. Again, the council were informed. It felt to them as though they were being attacked from all sides.

  * * *

  Sitting overlooking them all, his long fingernails scratching at the white growth on and around his chin, a sense of bewilderment and frustration stabbed at his very soul. For he'd been tasked with keeping them safe... all of them! Dragons, humans, animals, plants... he had failed each and every one of them. It felt as though he was being attacked personally, on all fronts, by invisible forces lurking in the shadows. Random, by all accounts, except for the incredible destruction, the attacks just couldn't be predicted. As dragons scuttled in and out of the chambers, passing flimsy pieces of paper over to the councillors, it seemed inevitable that the human world on the surface would suffer more than the clandestine dragon domain beneath. He knew that, by now, news of the attacks would have disseminated globally; undoubtedly panic, chaos and mayhem were spreading at just the very thought of what was happening. Trying to remain calm... calm and composed, knowing that right now the dragon domain, and the world in general, needed a being with their head screwed on, one that would make the right choices in the cold light of day and not act on an emotional impulse for retribution, should the perpetrators of these despicable deeds ever be discovered, with a grim determination, he set himself to do just that, despite a coldness squeezing his very heart, urging him to lash out and strike.

  * * *

  Feeling absolutely shattered, nothing to do with the hockey match he'd played in earlier, Peter was tired to his very bones, or more likely, to his very DNA. Tank had drained more of his magical energy to help set up the first two top floor mantras, that would all coalesce into one big, giant mantra... hopefully. Knowing there were only two more to go did nothing to reassure him, because he just wasn't sure he could go on, he just didn't seem to have it in him. It sounded as stupid to Peter's mind as it does on this page; after all he was only sitting down, but he'd never really been blessed with an awesome supply of magical energy, or mana as some dragons referred to it. Of course it did recharge at quite a rate, but that was of little
comfort in their current situation as it took hours, and not minutes, to go from drained to fully replenished.

  A bone weary Tank staggered into the function room, briefly leaning on one wall as he did so, both friends catching each other's eyes. Straight away, Peter's self pity disappeared. Tank looked wasted, ashen, exhausted, almost... frail.

  "Two more to go," he huffed, lurching his way towards the far corner, next to the wall that separated the corridor from the function room.

  Holding his head in his hands, which were propped up on the wooden table at which he sat, just one thought ran through Peter's head.

  'We just haven't got enough in us. The mantra he's using requires too much. We're never gonna make it!'

  * * *

  Outside in the car park, things had just gone from bad to worse. It had been difficult enough trying to assure the gathered members that it wasn't possible to return to the clubhouse just yet, feigning a gas leak. But that paled in comparison with the task that Janice now faced. Not only had the fire brigade arrived, but the rest of the emergency services as well, all at once. Knowing that every second she could stall them was important, and starting to run out of ideas, the petite blonde, being the only one supposedly having any knowledge of the gas leak, decided on a different approach, one that she hoped would work until Peter and Tank finished whatever it was they were doing.

  * * *

  Managing to stand up from the table, but only just, Peter felt so weary. With Tank there in the room, he thought it only proper to go over and stand with him, if for no other reason than to show his support, not that his friend would have any reason to doubt him on that front. With Tank whispering under his breath, while in tandem weaving his hands and fingers through some very strange patterns, Peter gazed out of the squeaky clean window, past the many, many cars, to the far side of the car park. Exhaling in surprise at the sight that greeted him, there, standing directly in front of a fire engine, that had not quite made it through the main gate and into the car park, was... JANICE, looking like she was having some kind of epileptic fit or something, arms waving wildly, head nodding vigorously, her whole body bobbing up and down like a boat in a storm. Firemen on either side of her looked to be trying to cajole her off to one side, without much success, but he knew it was only a matter of time before they triumphed over her. Abruptly, a wave of fatigue washed through him, causing him to crumple to his knees, too tired to stand. From out of nowhere a huge hand grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back to his feet. Hugging the all encompassing window, Tank stumbled past him, on his way to the last corner.

  "It's nearly over. Last one, and then we're done," he slurred, sounding almost drunk. Seeing the toll this was taking on his friend, Peter wondered if Tank would be able to complete the final part of the mantra that would form the invisible barrier and contain the bomb's blast. Even if he did, would the two of them have enough left in them to get out of the building? Two burning questions, whose answers would only come in time, and on whose outcomes thousands of lives, quite literally, depended.

  * * *

  Despite Tim wanting to go back up, she wasn't having any of it, knowing that these illicit liaisons were becoming more and more infrequent, and were getting harder and harder to arrange. Sooner or later they would have to stop, although she couldn't see how at the moment, or picture her life without him. As they held each other tightly, and kissed some more, he gave in to her every wish. How could he deny her? He loved her, despite her strange ways and all the secrecy that accompanied them. Perhaps one day he'd find out what it was all about; until then he was content just to be with her, even if it meant ending up in strange places like this.

  * * *

  Tank stood, well barely, in the last corner on the first floor. It all came down to this. If he executed the mantra properly, then all the others should join together, forming a perfectly cylindrical invisible shield, capable of containing almost anything. But time was ticking down. Both friends had running timers at the front of their minds, synchronised with the timer on the bomb. Both currently stood at one minute, thirty six seconds. And that wasn't their only problem. As was his wont, Peter had been gazing out of the window, trying to keep an eye on developments outside, namely Janice. But the game was up. An instant ago, two police officers from a car blocked in by the fire engine, had crept up on her and physically removed her from where she stood. Now nothing stood in the way of the emergency services entering the car park and then ultimately... the clubhouse! Immensely proud of her, especially the way she'd played the panic stricken, scared, emotional woman, which had bought them valuable seconds, seconds that might well save the lives of the very personnel that had just manhandled her out of the way, he'd known it was all an act, but confirmation came when she, standing silently, looked in his direction. Smiling, he hoped to be with her in a matter of seconds.

  As the smile spread out across his face, his legs buckled in on themselves. Tank collapsed as well. It was a shame really, because if they'd been standing, they'd have noticed a shimmering, curved light sparkle yellow for a fraction of a second, all around the clubhouse, confirming the mantra that Tank had cast, worked. But at what cost?

  * * *

  Janice had been looking in the direction of the clubhouse hoping, however unlikely it was, that she'd catch a glimpse of Peter or Tank behind the ever so slightly tinted windows now that the policemen had let go of her. But so far, no such luck. As she continued to watch, an eerie yellow light flashed around the building before disappearing. Rubbing her eyes, unsure of what she'd seen, murmurs from those around her confirmed that others in the crowd had witnessed the strange phenomenon, or so all the talking and shouting seemed to indicate, over the sound of the fire engine negotiating the rows of parked cars in and around the entrance. Inside her mind she wished to God that Peter and Tank would come sprinting out from between the double doors of the entrance. Would her wish come true?

  * * *

  Groggy, both friends groaned and muttered as their brief spell of unconsciousness came to an end at exactly the same time. Tank was first on his feet, aware that the timer counting down in his mind showed forty eight seconds. Instantly he yanked Peter upright and the two of them headed clumsily out into the corridor and down the stairs, both clinging onto the handrail for dear life as they did so. Pushing through the double doors into the bar area, through the window they could just make out the bright red of the fire engine, attempting to do a three point turn in the car park. Pulling in long deep breaths, the two ran the length of the bar, both hitting the double doors of the entrance in front of them together. Shouts and cries went up from the crowd at the sight of the two of them emerging from the building they had previously thought empty. Tank muttered a few words in an ancient tongue which allowed them to safely pass through the fully completed shield. Some of the firemen and police officers headed towards them, but Tank and Peter both had the forethought to wave them back, which to their credit, they took heed of.

  With everybody, including all the emergency services, corralled in a large group at the far edge of the car park, Tank and Peter dodged cars and vans, the muscles in their legs burning, their energy all but spent. In their heads the timer hit nineteen as the two of them pulled up in front of the large crowd. Tank collapsed on all fours, his breathing heavy and strained. Putting his hands behind his head in the hope of taking in more air as he breathed, Peter straightened and turned to face the clubhouse for the imminent arrival of one hell of an explosion. As he did so, just out of the corner of his right eye, he spotted something, something that sent goose bumps up his arms and cold shivers down his tail. RICHIE'S CAR!

  'But she's already left,' was his first thought.

  'But she can't possibly be in...' was his second.

  With his energy waning, he reached out telepathically with everything that he had left. Sure enough, somewhere just below ground level, a dragon presence, all tucked in on itself lurked, along with that of a human. Grabbing his friend, he pulled him to
his feet, something of a miracle in itself given the size difference between the two of them.

  "She's in there Tank. Richie's in there!" he screamed into his friend's face.

  Looking on in utter disbelief, Tank too could now get a sense of a dragon off in that direction. Joy at saving all these people turned to pain, guilt and soul destroying rage at the thought of losing his friend. Deep inside his mind, the timer hit eight seconds. Both friends had the same thought, once again, at exactly the same time. Closing their eyes, they sent out a mental picture, a warning, showing first the clubhouse, and then the imminent explosion, focusing all their efforts on honing in on their friend.

  * * *

  Against the bright, white walls of the clubhouse cellar, Richie broke off mid kiss, gasping sharply, and not because of the chilly, refrigerated air. A series of pictures crashed through her defences and assaulted her strong dragon mind, showing first the clubhouse and then a powerful explosion. Accompanying the images was a sense of utter urgency, desperation and despair from her two best friends. Mouth hanging open, stunned at what she'd just learned, at best, she had but a split second to act. As always she moved faster than she had any right to, her right hand grabbing the alea that she wore, the one that Peter had given to her, the one that had originally belonged to Mark Hiscock. Instantly she snapped it in two, while at the exact same time screaming in her mind, with all the willpower she could muster,

  "Amplificare Magicus Nunc," which in much plainer language translated as 'Amplify Magic Now'. As a slight afterthought, one hundredth of a second or so later, she popped into existence what can only really be described as a rather primitive personal shield, something all dragons learn to cast in the very first part of their eleventh year in the nursery ring. In doing so, she had the presence of mind to extend it around Tim, who all the while had stood aghast, fearing he'd done something wrong. As the flickering green radiance from the shield encased the two of them, light and darkness encompassed them both, to the accompanying sound of HELL! The world as they knew it... ended!