by Paul Cude
Standing, mouth agape, hooked on every word Gee Tee said, he looked a right sight.
"Some of his mantras have endured to this very day. And one in particular may well be the answer to our little conundrum."
Shuffling past the youngster, the old shopkeeper beckoned him to follow. Weaving in and out of the ever present bookcases, looking like towering guardians, the two of them finally stood at the front door to the shop. Carefully, the master mantra maker slid out a key from between a row of raggedy scales that circled the top of his bulging belly, inserted it into the door and turned it tightly. A satisfying click echoed past Peter and back towards the bookcases. Sliding shut two silver bolts, one on the top of the door, one on the bottom, neither of which Peter had ever noticed before, Gee Tee ambled back the way he'd come, until he made a sharp left down an aisle Peter had barely noticed before now. After thirty or so yards, the two of them reached a dead end in the shape of an ancient oak bookcase, so high it strained the young dragon's neck just to look up at where he assumed the top was. And if somewhere there'd been an award for a bookcase that was the dirtiest, dustiest and most covered in spiders' webs, then this one would most certainly have been the outright winner, beating all the competition hands down. In fact, Peter was doing his best to shy away from it all, the exact opposite of Gee Tee who, much to his young charge's disgust, had thrust his hands through a mass of cobwebs and was busy shuffling tomes around. As he did so, he turned towards Peter and said,
"I'm trusting you with my most valuable secret, young one. Make no mistake, you must never, and I repeat NEVER, tell another living soul about this place. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"
"I do," stammered Peter, suddenly wondering what on earth he'd got himself into this time.
"NOT EVEN MY APP... ASSOCIATE TANK! AGREED?" demanded the old dragon, testily. Gulping, Peter nodded, just about managing to squeak a timid, "Yes."
"Good," declared the master mantra maker, turning back to face the shelves. Continuing to move the tomes around with a speed that belied his advanced age, a few seconds later a tiny hissing sound, very much like that of escaping gas or air, filtered up from the ground. Stretching out his wing, the shopkeeper forced Peter to take two steps back. As soon as he did so, the entire bookcase started to turn on its axis, as the pair of them stood and watched in relative silence. Splitting in two, the bookcase revealed a shiny metal pole, not quite the height of the aforementioned bookcase, with the bottom of it disappearing down a very dubious looking dark hole.
Gesturing with one wing, Gee Tee urged the young dragon forward towards the pole and the darker than dark hole it descended into. Taking three very tentative steps forward, Peter peered down as far as he could... not very far at all as it turned out.
"Now follow my instructions precisely," ordered the old dragon. "Slide down the pole, careful to tuck yourself in as fully as possible. In that ridiculous form you should be fine, but under no circumstances must you stick out any of your extremities on the way down. The consequences of doing so could well be deadly."
Legs trembling, all he wanted to do was go home, but it seemed to be much too late for that, and that fate itself had other ideas entirely for him.
"One last thing. When you reach the bottom, you are to take four strides off to the side, it doesn't matter which side, but you must not, under any circumstances, move forward in any way. Wait for me... I'll be right behind you."
Tummy somersaulting, legs wobbling, hands shaking, Peter took two steps forward, leapt onto the pole, wrapping his arms and feet around it as tightly as he could, and slid effortlessly into the darkness.
Watching, the old shopkeeper waited for a moment for what he knew would happen next, and wasn't disappointed. From far below echoed up an "AAAAAHHHHhhhhhhhhhh," that just seemed to go on and on. A toothy smile lit up his satisfied face as he realised the point in the journey that his young friend had just reached. Chuckling quietly, he threw himself forward, sliding into the darkness, all the time hugging the pole as tightly as possible.
Hitting the floor hard, Peter's legs took the brunt of the impact. Both his knees hurt badly, almost as if he'd stepped off the pavement onto the road from a kerb that was much higher than normal, without paying enough attention. That was not his only issue. Currently he was covered from head to toe in so much disgusting stuff, it was all he could do to heed Gee Tee's warning and step off to the side of the by now very slippery pole. Taking four steps to the right, he started trying to brush off the worst of whatever he was covered in, but before he had the chance, the gagging reflex he'd been suppressing since about halfway down, when something from within one of the dark crevasses had either spat on him or sprayed him with pee, simply gave up. Dropping to his knees, he vomited. And not just a little.
Seconds later, announced by a whoosh of air, without any drama and with the delicacy of a butterfly, Gee Tee touched down on the other side of the pole, wrinkling his nose as he did so.
"Ahhh... Olgoi got you did he?" smirked the old dragon knowingly. "He's a one he is. Generally if it's your first time, he seems to sense it and once he does... he never seems to miss the target, if you know what I mean."
By now, Peter had finished throwing up and was brushing thick strands of webbing, a rainbow litany of coloured liquids and numerous vines and other plant material off his clothes, arms, legs, hair and face. He looked a mess, and the particular shade of green his face had turned really didn't help him out one bit. For a split second the old shopkeeper held out one of his wing tips to help, but after brief consideration withdrew it almost immediately. Staggering to his feet, somewhat disorientated, Peter choked back down the taste of sick and bile that lingered around his throat and mouth, knowing he had to at least ask the question.
"Who or what on earth is 'Olgoi'?"
A faraway look drifted across the old dragon's face as he contemplated the question for a second or two.
"Olgoi, or Olgoi-Khorkhol to give him or her their correct name, for I have no idea just how many are left, are also known as Mongolian death worms. When this vault was installed, not far off four hundred years ago now, many, many counter-measures, deceptions, traps, tricks and deadly creatures were incarcerated in, around and alongside it. At the time, four breeding pairs of Mongolian death worms were given a home in the rock and soil around the pole, roughly half way down. At that time, these creatures were rarer than rare. It was thought that only about two dozen breeding pairs were left scattered throughout the Gobi desert. Transplanting some here made sense twofold. Of course the first was as protection against anyone trying to violate the security of the vault, with the second being to try and establish some kind of breeding colony somewhere far away from their normal territory, and somewhere far safer. Whether it's succeeded is anyone's guess. I'm sure if Tank were here he'd be fascinated and would, no doubt, after only a few minutes have them eating some kind of snack out of his oversized, pudgy hands." Peter smiled at the thought of his friend doing just that.
"What you can smell on you is their poison," announced the master mantra maker casually.
As a growing look of concern spread out across Peter's face, the bile in his throat started rising again.
"Oh don't worry," urged the old dragon. "I cast a specific protection mantra on you before you disappeared into the darkness. You were never in any danger."
'Good to know,' he thought, 'good to know.'
"If anything," added the old shopkeeper, "it was their electric shock that would have harmed you. Known to kill in fact, even dragons, if memory serves me correctly."
Peter's face was a picture... and a particularly terrified one at that. As Gee Tee fiddled around in a hidden side pouch for something he'd brought with him, the young dragon thought hard about what had just been said. Knowing that the famous mantra maker had a sense of humour, albeit somewhat warped, didn't give him a clue either way. Was he kidding? Was he serious? It was just about impossible to tell.
"Ahhh... here they are." Pulling out his unlikely squar
e plastic spectacles, the old shopkeeper delicately slipped them along his nose until they sat just so.
"Now... let me see how this place looks," he said, turning full circle, standing on the spot. "Pretty much the same as I remember, only with a bit more dust," he added, running one of his bony fingers along the rock face behind them, "but apart from that and the increase in spiders, it all looks totally familiar."
Curiosity got the better of the young dragon.
"When was the last time you were down here?"
Turning his head so far to one side that it was nearly touching his left shoulder, the master mantra maker thought about that one.
"Hmmm... let me see. What did you say the year was up above... the ones the humans use as a calendar?"
"2017," answered the hockey player, marvelling at how someone so utterly brilliant and clever could be so forgetful so often.
"Ahhh... haven't been down here since '03' then."
'A place like this is hardly likely to have changed very much in thirteen years,' Peter mused.
"Those were the days," sighed the old shopkeeper. "Everyone then was so much smarter and polite... you know what I mean. All you, you... human infiltrators. Suits, ties, hats... and as for the ladies... well, the dresses were something else. Looking that smart, they were allowed in my shop... not like the scruffy yobs of today such as you and my young associate. You wouldn't know what dressed up looked like if it jumped up and smacked you on the nose."
The master mantra maker had finally lost his marbles... well, that was the conclusion that Peter had just reached, and was frantically racking his brain for some way to extricate himself from the situation that he found himself in. And then it HIT him!
"What was the exact date you were last here?" he asked softly.
"I'VE JUST TOLD YOU CHILD! DON'T YOU LISTEN TO ANYTHING I SAY? YOU'RE AS BAD AS YOUR FRIEND! December 12th 1903, about tea time as I recall."
If nothing else, the bizarre conversation had taken his mind off the bad taste lingering in his mouth and the back of his throat.
'So, the old shopkeeper hasn't been down here in over a century. Oh,' he thought, 'what could possibly go wrong with all those things he's so kindly pointed out...? Traps, deceptions, countermeasures, magical beasts acting as guards, and I'm here with by all accounts the oldest dragon in the world, who suffers from the kind of memory lapses that are liable to get others (me in particular) killed!
Thinking about asking Gee Tee if they could go back, he dismissed it out of hand quite quickly, instead choosing to focus on the main reason he was here... to help Richie! As well, the old shopkeeper had seemed so enthusiastic about bringing him here, here, secret here. Here, that not even Tank knew about. And besides, he told himself, it was just a matter of convincing the master mantra maker that his theory about Richie was true... and THAT was the single most important thing that in his deepest time of need, he desperately needed to focus on. So that's what he did. He threw all his concentration into one thought, and tried frightfully hard to block out everything else.
Scuttling over beside the old shopkeeper, careful not to move forward even an inch, he finally took in his surroundings. Standing on the raised rock alcove where the pole came to rest, smack bang in the middle of its semi-circular shape, an irregular rock wall curved round behind them, littered with thick webs, spiders the size of dinner plates, as well as numerous plant species, most of which he recognised as being poisonous in some way, shape or form. On either side of the alcove, carved into the rock, two eighteen foot high dragon statues, both slightly different, towered over them, casting an ominous presence. Friendly and welcoming features stood out on one dragon with its wings folded back, one arm pointing away, its long, sleek, elegant tail pointing in another direction, a disproportionately small nose sitting perfectly in the middle of its face. A rather opposite disposition hung over the other dragon. Its fangs were bared in a fearsome snarl, while one raised foot showed that its talons had raked along the floor. This one's giant wings were open and the claws on both its hands were spread wide, with what looked like blood dripping down each. Its thick, deadly-looking tail seemed more like a club, with huge spikes protruding out at almost equal intervals, and this one's nose looked like it had either been punched by a T-Rex, or it had been chasing parked cars. It reminded Peter more than a little of the evil dragon Manson. Quickly, he turned his thoughts back to Richie, hoping to forget all about evil dragons, at least for the time being. With the statues forgotten, it was then he realised that right in front of him, no more than a few yards away in the darkness, three separate passages stood there, waiting, all nearly circular in design, all dragon sized, and all apparently identical. Only really able to see the entrances, as anything further was totally obscured by the all encompassing darkness, even scrolling through all his magical types of vision did him no good whatsoever.
"NOW YOU NEED TO PAY ATTENTION," declared Gee Tee, startling Peter out of his thoughts. "This is another of the important bits. What you see before you," he said, waving his right wing theatrically, "are three identical tunnels. It's more than a little important that we choose wisely the passageway we enter, for two reasons. Only one takes us to the vault... the reason why we're here. The other two tunnels... well..." ventured the old dragon thoughtfully, "the other two in fact lead to a rather unfortunate and untimely demise."
That got Peter's attention.
"You see two of the three tunnels are in fact unending, self replicating labyrinths that once you enter, would be impossible to escape from."
Gulping, a foul tasting mouthful of bile trickled back down Peter's throat.
"The trick," stated Gee Tee, holding up one of his fingers like the show dragon he could be at times, "is to choose the right one." With that, he squeezed his huge bulk past his young charge, and stepped up to the friendlier looking dragon of the two. What happened next nearly blew Peter's mind. Putting the tip of his finger on the dragon statue's nose, the master mantra maker then, unbelievably, spun it around. Low and behold, a new and very different nose appeared in the old one's place.
'What on earth is going on?' thought the young dragon, astonished.
Carrying on, the old dragon spun the noses around so many times that eventually they came back to the one that was there originally. In all, there were seven different noses. To add to the mystery, every time one of the noses moved round, both the dragon's arms and its tail moved, changing direction ever so slightly.
"Now," put in Gee Tee, turning to face the perplexed young dragon. "I'm only going to say this once, and with your eidetic memory, that should be more than enough. This is the key to choosing which tunnel leads to the vault. Melted, Twisted, Withered, Tiny, Flat, Scrawny, Splattered," offered up the old dragon. "You should be able to work out the rest on your own," he urged, a little smile creeping across the ancient features of his face.
More so when there was any expectation or pressure involved, Peter hated puzzles. Recalling the words, he thought carefully about each and every one of them, the number of letters each contained, their meaning, if they had any relation to any well known dragons. NOTHING! He had NOTHING!
'DAMN!' he thought, all the time being watched by the sly old shopkeeper. Then it hit him like Isaac Newton's apple. Seven noses, seven words... what else had seven? The days of the week of course. And each word started with the same letter as a corresponding day of the week.
'GOTCHA!' he thought, smiling back at the master mantra maker.
"So you've worked it out?"
"Of course," answered the young dragon confidently, going on to explain his thoughts and reasoning.
"Good," said Gee Tee, nodding his large scaly head. "So which tunnel leads us to the vault, and not a slow, withering, unpleasant death?"
"Switch the nose to the one that looks melted... since today's Monday," ordered Peter, knowing full well that he'd have to either change forms or climb up the statue to do it himself. Gee Tee did as he ordered. Ever so slightly, the friendly dragon'
s arm and tail changed position, with the tail pointing to the middle of the three tunnels, and the arm pointing to the one on the right. Scratching the stubble on his chin, he was sure, well... pretty sure anyway, that the old shopkeeper wouldn't let him send them down either of the wrong tunnels... still, he wanted to work it out and find the right one. More than anything, he wanted to prove his worth, something he felt he'd come up short on, on a number of occasions. It had to be the one on the right, the one where the dragon's arm was pointing. It just had to be! But judging from the smirk that still lurked across the best part of the master mantra maker's face, he was convinced there was more to it than that. Turning his head and sighing, all the time scratching the two days' worth of stubble that he found himself attached to, he caught sight of the other dragon statue, beyond the pole running down the centre of the alcove. Thinking about it for a few seconds... just to make sure you understand... he came to a conclusion. It had to be the same for both of them... didn't it?
"Perhaps you'd do the same to the rather unpleasant dragon on the other side now?" he asked.
Gee Tee slid past with all the speed of a fifty year old (dragon), skirted around the metal pole and rolled the nose on the fearsome dragon to the same position. Again the arms and the spiked tail moved ever so slightly. One hand with what looked like blood dripping down it pointed to the right tunnel, with the evil looking end of the tail pointing directly down the centre of the left passageway.
Logic, Peter thought, dictated that it should be the right tunnel as that was where both arms were pointing, while a tail each pointed down both of the other tunnels. Looking again at both of the dragon statues, he could think of no other course of action. It was a long winded process, and if you didn't know about the noses and the days of the week, you would of course only be guessing. So he piped up.
