Bentwhistle the Dragon Box

by Paul Cude

  "Droch me ha. Nee somme so ta vecht ma recht."

  "DROCH ME HA. NEE SOMME SO TA VECHT MA RECHT," the beasts repeated loudly.

  "Tol va diemme growd rolle simme so dul vedre nol rol sect burreme."

  Like robots duplicating their master, the nagas continued.

  "TOL VA DIEMME GROWD ROLLE SIMME SO DUL VEDRE NOL ROL SECT BURREME."

  Swirls of multicoloured energy poured forth from the disfigured man's fingertips, creating a ribbon of rainbow coloured tentacles, stretching out in front of the gathered cast. This time he shouted the commands he wished the nagas to follow.

  "AUTARUM ASISIES CONDULT SPERONUM TRACTORIN REDONC VASSIL EARONIST. SEDORST SECRETE SANTORUM FOREVST."

  "AUTARUM ASISIES CONDULT SPERONUM TRACTORIN REDONC VASSIL EARONIST. SEDORST SECRETE SANTORUM FOREVST."

  A multicoloured rainbow of magic exploded out across the assembled crowd, causing them all to close their eyes, taking more than ten seconds to dissipate. On opening their eyes, they weren't in the least bit surprised to find that they now all bore the same marking, imbued on their bodies. It was a starburst, only instead of being orange, it was the darkest shade of black known, beams of dark light springing out at all angles.

  The ceremony seemingly over, one by one the nagas filed out, the same way they'd come in. With one difference. As they left, they were all, to a being, issued with massive, evil looking bastard swords, some with scabbards, others attached to bandoliers, the rest hanging from futuristic belts.

  With this going on, it took some time before the building was empty. When it was, the whole process started over again. And that wouldn't be the last time either.

  8 A Broken Promise?

  A shiver ran down her spine as she shook her head, glad to be away from the father... he was an odd one, and scary too. Footsteps crunching on the gravel as she walked across the courtyard between buildings, well... wooden barns actually, this had been their home for a while now, but that was all coming to an end, hence her little walk in the freezing cold. Opening the wooden framed glass door, she edged through and then pulled it shut behind her, relieved to be back inside. Stopping to pull the zip down on her coat a little, hating that feeling of her breathing being restricted in any way, shape or form, feeling better able to breathe, she followed the maze of narrow corridors until she stood at the entrance to the biggest room. Manson was on the phone, and she knew better than to interrupt him. It would have to be something really important for that, so she waited... and listened.

  "Yes... I'm looking at the chaos now, as we speak. The pathetic humans' desire to cover every news event anywhere, in graphic detail, never ceases to amaze me. They're even showing the blast crater in Thailand. Pathetic really," he said, holding the phone to his right ear while gazing steadily at the pictures from the news broadcast on the shiny, metallic television in the corner of the room. Silence followed as he listened intently to what the voice on the other end had to say.

  "And you've done exactly as we agreed. I couldn't be happier. More chaos and mayhem than the planet is experiencing now, would be hard to imagine. Ahhh... now just a second," he said, turning on the spot, acknowledging his visitor with a nod of his head. "What we agreed was that I would deliver him to you as soon as I had control of the dragon kingdom, and while I'm the first to admit that this has all been a huge step in the right direction, we're not quite there yet. It should only be a matter of days now if everything goes to plan, and then you'll have him back. I PROMISE!"

  She could hear the caller on the other end go very quiet, before eventually letting out a soft, "Okay," that echoed out through the phone's speaker.

  "Now I need the coordinates and time of the transfer." There was a short pause before he started repeating what was being relayed to him down the phone. "37° 31'32.28N, 75° 56'42.34W at 1.15am," he confirmed, picking up a scrap piece of paper and a red biro from the desk, and while holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder, writing the information on the paper, using the side of an old wooden bookcase to lean on.

  "I'll be in touch," he announced, before hitting the red hang-up button shaped like a phone on his key pad, and looking up at his visitor.

  "Problems?" she enquired.

  "Uhhhh... just the sweet little nagas wanting their king back." He smiled at the thought. "Of course... they will get him back, just in a few more pieces than they bargained for, when their usefulness is all but up."

  Just the thought of the double cross the nagas were about to be on the end of brought memories of the disillusioned sewer worker in Chicago flooding back. Having done her bidding, he'd expected the promised 'big payoff'. Instead all he got was a bullet in the head and a swim with the fishes. Some beings could be so gullible.

  Grinning like a deranged clown, he strolled over and put his arm around her shoulders.

  "So, how are things progressing?" he asked, gently caressing her cheek.

  "Your father's ready to go. Everything is packed up and either ready to be destroyed, or taken with us. I've wiped clean the parts of the buildings we're no longer using, and will do the rest before we go."

  Smiling, he shrugged his shoulders a little and said,

  "All we need now is our ride. England here we come!"

  9 Resistance Is Futile

  Droplets of lava sizzled and steamed as they plummeted down the side of one of the rock walls that made up the abandoned cellar. Watching fascinated, buoyed by the warmth the lava gave off, she was intoxicated by the slow and steady movement and the change in colour. At the moment there was little else for her to do. Most beings would have been disappointed, fed up, bored even. Not her though, fully understanding the need to be here, and to be patient. And so she was. With the squad of nagas in the room next door assigned as her bodyguards, her safety was as assured as it could be, despite being back where she'd been born. Back where, in theory at least, she was a wanted criminal. Assuming that no right minded dragon was actually still on the lookout for her, given that her crimes had been committed well over six decades earlier, still she remained nervous at the very thought of being tucked away in their domain. You never actually knew with dragons. They had the longest memories of all, and because of exactly who she was, and what she'd done, she always assumed that the hunt was still on.

  Probably the biggest downside of being stuck in this room, decked out with only a simple bed, a sink and a toilet off to one side, was that in waiting to be called forth, her mind had little else to do but wander off, mostly to events far in the past, pondering the decisions that she'd made, going over each and every last detail.

  Blowing her long brown locks back behind her head, the warm evening breeze tickled her face. With the spitting rain having just stopped, she loosened the belt on her long grey raincoat, all the time taking in the stunning landmarks surrounding her. Directly in front of her stood the magnificent Notre Dame in all its glory, the intricate brickwork of the amazing walls that lined the river captured the real essence of the beautiful architecture as the sun started to set. Green, brown and red hues of the trees and hedges in the foreground looked like something from a fairytale, while the river itself flowed gently on its way, too important to stop, ignoring the passage of time, here in 1941. Things had been going brilliantly over the last couple of weeks, particularly with regard to this new contact that she'd cultivated. If all went well, then tonight she would once again strike at the heart of the British and French Resistance, earning herself more credit with her Nazi puppet masters. Reluctantly turning away from the timeless view, she casually looked along the bridge, in the direction of the Sorbonne. Reminiscent of their last three meetings, her contact stood on the bridge, stunning red locks whipping out behind her, waiting for their planned encounter. But here and now, it was time to force their hand and take control of the situation. After all, that's why she'd been feeding them the information for nearly the last month or so, she thought as the dying light from the sun's last rays disappeared over the horizon.

  Not daring t
o glance round, she already knew he was there, they'd done this so many times before. It was time to start the show. So she speeded up. Doing so in the ridiculous high heels was a challenge, but less to her than most. With the red headed contact gazing in her direction, she held up three fingers in front of her body, running her other hand through her wavy hair, giving out the signal that there was trouble. From the look on the other woman's face, she'd picked up on what was happening and had a plan to deal with it.

  'Good,' she thought, ambling quickly towards her, 'all is going according to plan.' Only a few feet away now, the Resistance operative, who she knew by the name of 'Kitty', glanced over her shoulder, back up the bridge, no doubt taking in her pursuer, a brawny male in a dark coat and hat who went by the name of Wolfgang, though of course she wasn't supposed to know that. Breathing heavily, she stumbled into Kitty's arms.

  "I'm... I'm so sorry. I didn't realise he was following me until a few moments ago. I don't know what to do. I'm so scared," she lied, hamming it up for the good of the moment.

  Instinctively Kitty grabbed her hand and pulled her in the opposite direction to her brawny pursuer, just as she was supposed to. It was too easy!

  "Come with me," whispered the slim redhead in perfect English. "We'll get you somewhere safe, and then we can talk."

  In return, she nodded, a false mask of fear etched across her face. High heels scraping against the cobbles, the two of them jogged along the bridge, neither daring to look back over their shoulder. Cutting across the Pont Saint-Louis, they rushed ever onwards, ignoring the odd looks from passersby. Once across the Pont Louis-Philippe, they veered left alongside the river, heading towards the world renowned Louvre. Daring to glance back, the Resistance officer, Kitty, spotted the man about the same sort of distance away as he had been on the bridge. Squeezing Earth's hand reassuringly, much to her disgust, it had the desired effect, as she made the fear disappear from her face, albeit only briefly. Another hundred yards or so on, Kitty glanced again. Their gentleman follower had gained considerable distance on them. Earth guessed that Kitty's aim would be to get her to the safe house, which probably wasn't far away, and that was the haven which Earth was trying to penetrate.

  "DITCH THE SHOES," Kitty suddenly shouted to Earth, pulling one off and tossing it towards one of the trees lining the street, followed quickly by the other. Slowing to a halt, Earth followed the instructions, the man chasing them only a matter of yards away now. Both women took off, able to take full advantage of their bare feet now, Kitty's red hair trailing out behind her, as did her own. Panting heavily, not daring to look round, the two women sprinted right into Rue du Pont Neuf, glad of the darkness that now shrouded the entire city. Silently, they cut left along Rue Saint-Honoré, crossing the main thoroughfare, Kitty trying desperately to stick to the smaller, darker, quieter streets. Pausing to catch their breath, there was no sign of their tail, but she knew better than to get complacent. They had to get to the safe house, only then could they relax, or at least that's what Earth hoped the simple girl would think. Muscles in her legs burning fiercely; she wondered if her new found friend felt the same. If she did, she was hiding it well. The Resistance officer, clearly quite experienced from the extent of her spy craft, despite her age, led them sharply right and then immediately left, all the time darting in and out of the shadows, avoiding the sporadic placement of street lamps, despite the fact that she must be exhausted by now. Another right and sharp left led them to the entrance of a darkened Rue des Bons-Enfants. Kitty pulled her up against the wall, both of them barely able to pull in a breath. There were no street lights here... it was totally dark. Heart racing, Kitty poked her head ever so slightly round the corner, hoping to prove that they'd lost their shadow. After a few minutes, it seemed evident that they had. Embracing briefly, the two women looked and felt more than a little out of place in their bare feet. It was enough to make Earth feel sick.

  "I'm pretty sure we've lost him. We have a house, just up here. It'll be alright for you to stay. My associates and I will protect you, I promise."

  Earth nodded in response, desperately trying to keep the smile off her face, all the time pretending to be far too shaken up to do anything else. Together, both of them crept along the street in near total darkness, both still holding hands, both pleased to get something of their breaths back. Kitty had done this hundreds, if not thousands of times before and could probably have done it just with the feel of her bare feet on the cobbled street, rather than using her eyes, which made little difference in the all encompassing black.

  Edging further and further down the tiny little street, full of narrow three storey buildings, few if any showing any light at all coming from the inside, they quickly reached their destination. Like its neighbours, it was a tall, narrow building with its windows boarded up and a solid looking door, white paint flaking off the surround. Still holding her hand, Kitty sneaked around a set of rubbish bins, leant down and ever so carefully pulled back a huge piece of metal, all the time trying to be as quiet as she could. The metal was thick, and weighed an awful lot. Even using her full force, Kitty could only manage to slide it a little way. With a gap barely bigger than the women's waists showing, Kitty slipped through. Earth duly followed. A metal handle had been welded to the underside, which Kitty used to pull the metal back in place. Then she led them down the steps, stopping at a wooden door. Quietly, she tapped the door with her knuckles. Tap, tap, tap. She waited. A single tap came back. Tapping twice more, she stopped and then tapped twice more again. Silence ensued. It felt like an age, but moments later, rustling could be heard from behind the door. Eventually, it opened, well... a little anyway. A startlingly handsome man with a perfectly trimmed moustache poked his head through the gap.

  "Ahhh... Kitty," he gasped in a distinctive English accent. "We weren't expecting you. Sorry, you set us all a bit on edge."

  "We had a bit of a problem... a tail, but completely shaken off now."

  "Excellent, excellent," whispered the man, pulling open the door and allowing the women to squeeze through, then bolting it thoroughly once he'd done so.

  "Come on through, come on through," he urged.

  Both followed into the basement that was... rather nice, all things considered. Apart from the boarded up windows, the rooms could have been taken from any city across Europe. It held comfortable furniture and was neat and tidy, with the smell of home cooked food mingling vicariously with cigarette smoke.

  Seconds after entering the room, Earth clutched her head momentarily, feigning feeling a little faint, while actually sending out a signal to her comrades. The gentleman that had let them in rushed to her aid.

  "I'm okay, I'm okay," she muttered. "Just felt a little light headed there for a moment."

  "Understandable really," put in Kitty. "We have, after all, just spent the last twenty or so minutes running through the streets of Paris."

  "Those damn Nazis will be the death of us all," added the gentleman.

  'That's the idea,' thought Earth.

  "I jolly well hope not," added another man, striding through the only other door to the room, clutching a steaming mug of something.

  "I for one second that," chipped in a blonde haired woman from right behind him.

  Before anyone else had a chance to say anything, a small bell attached to a line coming down from somewhere up above, dangling precariously over the fireplace, jingled uncontrollably. Each and every one of them stopped, too shocked to move. Kitty was first to speak.

  "It can't be. It just can't be! We lost him... I'm sure of it."

  The bell jingled again, more furiously this time.

  "Questions for later!" exclaimed the man with the moustache, who had let them in. "Seems we definitely have company of some sort. Might even be time to bug out."

  Nodding in agreement, they all made for the far door, all except Earth, who knew that the time had come. Kitty tried to urge her out through the door, but she was having none of it. To the young Resistance officer's
surprise, Earth produced her best smile, knowing full well that once again, she'd won. Everyone in the room stood stock still, taking in a very different character from the one they'd so warmly welcomed only a few moments ago.

  "YOU!" accused Kitty.

  "Of course," replied Earth nonchalantly, slipping a cigarette between her crimson lips and lighting it.

  "I... I... I... I don't understand," stuttered Kitty, to no one in particular.

  "Ahhh..." said Earth, taking a long drag on the addictive nicotine stick separating her lips. "It was all so easy."

  From nowhere, the other man in the room pulled out a .38 revolver.

  "You may think you've caught us, but I can assure you it's the last thing you'll ever do," he announced.

  Earth took another long puff on her cigarette, savoured the moment, and then blew out a long stream of smoke in the direction of the man holding the gun. You could have cut the tension in the room with a knife, along with all the cigarette smoke. Bizarrely, Earth burst out laughing. It wasn't just any laugh though. It was the kind of laugh that sent a chill through your very bones.

  "What's so funny?" enquired the other woman in the room.

  "Ohhh," said the Nazi stooge, looking up at the ceiling, "THIS!"

  Instantly the air in the room became thick; the hum of static electricity pulsed through it. Earth dropped her cigarette and held out her hands towards the group of British Resistance operatives. The man with the revolver fired. One, two, three shots. Bright blue, blinding bolts of forked electricity arced from Earth's fingers, destroying the bullets mid flight, as the Resistance fighters looked on horrified. The bell in the fireplace rang constantly against the backdrop of something smashing down the basement door through which they'd previously entered. Acrid smoke and the smell of burning engulfed the room, overpowering the disgusting stench of the misguided dragon's cigarette. Both male Resistance fighters looked at one another, each with the same thought. Charging, giving it all they had, the one with the gun ending with a flying leap towards Earth. A deafening crackle whistled around the room as forked electricity streaked forth from Earth's fingers once again. Caught firmly in the neck, mid leap, the man with the gun promptly slumped to the floor, a sizzling black wound eating into his flesh as he did so. Taken off his feet by a massive static charge, the man with the moustache had come within a whisker of reaching his goal, only to be thrown backwards, smashing into the far wall where he remained, smoke steaming from his wound, totally unconscious.