by Paul Cude
'It has begun!'
Rolling the words over and over inside her head, she discarded the hastily arranged covers on her poor excuse for a bed, curled up into a ball, and sought the sanctuary of sleep, hoping once again not to be dragged back into the past. It wasn't to be.
Darkness faded. A brighter, whiter kind of light swam into view. A harsh pounding in her head tried to keep to a rhythmic beat, much to her annoyance. Gingerly, she sat up. Her head spun. Nausea threatened to overwhelm her. Wrestling with it momentarily, she then attempted to fight it off with just a little power from within. Strangely, nothing happened.
'That's odd,' she thought, head in hands. Concentrating on her breathing, she tried to remember what had happened. The last thing she could recall was being in that damn barn, about to unleash her power. But then the girl, that's right... that damn girl, had injected her with something, and done it so quickly she'd simply had no time to react. Rubbing her eyelids, the whole sorry mess came slinking back.
'Why didn't my troops come in and save me?' she wondered briefly. 'Of course. It was a trap, and had no doubt been a long time in the planning, given the efficiency of it. No matter. Escaping from here should be child's play, wherever here actually is.'
"Plotting and planning already?" a husky voice whispered from somewhere just the other side of the metal bars opposite her, shrouded in darkness. "Impressive indeed. But if it's thoughts of escape, then let me assure you, you're wasting your time. We've had time to prepare. Rest assured... you're going nowhere." And with that, the sound of footsteps echoing down a corridor, followed by a very heavy door slamming shut, brought home the reality of her situation, well... a little anyway.
Casually, while concealing her hands in case anyone else should be watching from the darkness, she wove a couple of tiny patterns with her fingers, over and over again, and then attempted to run a smidgen of her power through them. NOTHING! Once again she tried, figuring she was still a little off balance from being unconscious for all that time, and it must have been some time indeed, given just how rough she felt. Again, NOTHING, not even a sliver of her hidden ability.
'They can't know what I truly am,' she thought, 'not with all the castings the nagas laid on me. They must be guessing, trying to figure me out. It does mean that the dragons are probably involved somewhere along the line though. That will make things more than a little difficult,' she thought, lying back on the flimsy wooden bed, the pathetic excuse for a pillow leaking feathers as her head hit it. Closing her eyes, waiting for them to come to her, she wondered what, if anything, had happened to her husband.
Unbeknown to her at the time, news of the unusual nature of both prisoners had filtered down through the dragon ranks, a tiny titbit of news really, given that World War Two was raging around them. It didn't quite reach the realm of the telepathic papers or the normal, everyday dragon in the street, but apart from that, it was pretty much out there. And so it was that Councillor Rosebloom was sitting in his luxurious office when his secretary brought him in a pile of paperwork, including news of the latest incarcerations. Normally not one to panic, break sweat, or do anything at breakneck speed, his demeanour changed in an instant on seeing the list. Shooting out of the door uncharacteristically fast, his shocked secretary only managed to catch, "I'm out for the rest of the day," from him, before he turned the corner and disappeared out of sight.
It had been over two weeks, and she hadn't told them anything they didn't already know. Over the course of that time, she'd been busy trying to figure out why her hidden abilities wouldn't work. From what she could tell, the dragons had cast a mantra of some sort across the whole building, negating or subduing her talents. There were one or two spots on her daily walk to and from the interrogation room that felt a little different... like they might be weak points in the mantra, where she could almost feel her power ready to use just beneath the surface. But with strapping great guards marching either side of her, as well as in front and behind, there was simply no opportunity to test if that were truly the case. It could of course be a dragon trap, trying to catch her out, waiting to see if she used the powers they suspected she might have. It was turning into much more of a waiting game than she'd at first intended, through no fault of her own. She was, however, bored now, and wasn't particularly renowned for her patience, despite it being evident in nearly all her operations in France. As the guards returned her to her cell from yet another round of interrogations, her mind whirled around and around, constantly looking for a way out. Any way out.
Little did she know that her way out was heading straight towards her.
A confident looking being pulled up at the little known entrance to the secret detention facility, covered in a dark cowl and cloak. At first, the guards had been reluctant to let him anywhere near the establishment, but he did have all the high level credentials and clearances, so in the end they had little option but to comply. Looking on in disbelief as the stranger marched through the dimly lit corridors, dressed all in black, looking very much how you would expect a Darth Vader from the 1940's to look, the guards were more than a little on edge.
Striding towards the prisoner's cell, projecting more confidence than he had any right to, he felt more than a little nervous about what he was doing. But he'd been given very little choice in the matter. Up until now, his involvement had been strictly behind the scenes, so much so that there was practically no chance of anyone finding out about his relationship to... the others. That's how he liked to think of them... 'the others'. Here and now though, things had got very real, very quickly. If any other dragon happened to turn up, this would all be pretty much for nothing. His escorts turned a corner, and BAM! It happened. No gradual fading off, no warning, NOTHING! Shocked didn't begin to cover how he felt. It was a good job his face was obscured for the most part. Briefly he wondered how she felt, in a place like this... without her abilities. It scared him, having his own taken away so forcefully. When he'd entered, he'd felt magnificent, in command and above these puny humans. But now... he felt so vulnerable, so afraid, so scared. Even so, he continued to walk on, the heels of his black boots clicking against the hard floor, projecting an air of confidence and authority.
A sharp turn in the corridor and then they were there, almost up against the bars. Lying curled up on the rickety bed, facing the opposite wall, he could tell she wasn't asleep.
"Release her at once," he commanded, with much more conviction than he felt. Straight away she rolled over, eyeing the stranger and the guards with suspicion.
"It's okay now. Your ordeal is over. Please come with me and we'll sort out your release."
Earth leapt to her feet, standing directly in the middle of the cell, eyeing the guards with contempt. With one finger, the hooded stranger discreetly pulled back part of his cowl, revealing only a tiny fragment of his face. Recognition blossomed in her mind. They'd only met once in their human forms, and even then it was mightily dark, but she knew who he was and that she could trust him. A wave of relief washed over her as she received a barely perceptible nod of acknowledgement.
Once the guards had finally unlocked the cell, looking none too happy about it, she followed him back through the facility, sharing a small smirk with him at the point they both regained their powers. After only a few minutes, all the formalities had been observed and the paperwork signed off. They then both climbed into his 'borrowed' jeep. Joining him in letting out a sigh of relief, she whispered a small,
"Thank you."
"You're welcome," replied Rosebloom. "But let's get as far away from here as possible. I have no idea how long the ruse will hold up. We could be discovered at any moment." She nodded her agreement as he started up the engine. Turning on the lights, they sped away towards the main road, but not before he'd given her an inkling of what lay ahead for the rest of the night.
"If we can remain undiscovered until morning, then we might just have a chance."
And they did. Remain undiscovered, that is, recovering her husb
and from a neighbouring concern some ninety or so miles away before the first rays of sunshine lit up the early morning sky across the country. No words were said; there was nothing to say. They were very much in love, a notion the dragon councillor clearly found... distasteful, much to Earth's amusement. Dropping them off outside the deserted railway station, he watched them leap out of the stolen jeep, hand in hand. Thanking him politely, it was all just a bit too formal, almost as if he'd passed the salt across the dining table. They realised just what he'd done, how much he'd risked, but there seemed few, if any other words to say. A whole lot remained left unsaid as they sat outside the ticket office, clutching the thick wad of money the kind councillor had left them with. She wondered what they would plan. Would they go back to France and continue where they'd left off, being a sharp thorn in the side of the British and French Resistance? Or was there something more devious and cunning, or more pressing, to do? Sensibly though, she knew not to dwell on it now, and probably shouldn't even be wondering. With the strange looking councillor having exited the station's car park at speed in what she knew to be a stolen jeep, and knowing that they were many hours away from the first train of the day turning up, they both huddled together, sharing the warmth and comfort of their bodies as well as each and every thought, on the cold wooden bench just outside the ticket office.
24 Chain Reaction
Things were generally quite relaxed at the Mantra Emporium. There was no dress code, no lunch hour and no official working hours. That said, the owner liked to know if his employees, or employee as was now the case, was not going to be in at all.
Pacing up and down the shop floor directly in front of the counter, staring up at the exploding volcano clock, high up on the far wall, that on every hour jettisoned real lava across a deserted section of the shop floor, Gee Tee felt frustration and worry mingle together inside him. Normally his app... Tank arrived just after 8am, ready for a full day's work. But it was nearly 10am, and there was no sign of the youngster at all. There'd been no message... he'd checked. It was very out of character. So much so, he couldn't remember the last time he'd even been a few minutes late. Considering his options, the old shopkeeper supposed he could have used that dreaded phone contraption thing, although his last experience of it left a lot to be desired. For a split second he thought about contacting the King's Guard, but dismissed that instantly. Not only would they not respond (due to Rosebloom's continual meddling) but they'd probably not take him seriously. Pretty sure Tank would have to be missing for more than a couple of hours for it to be regarded as any sort of emergency, he wondered if he might contact the child Bentwhistle telepathically, perhaps he knew where his friend was and just why he was late. That was the course of action he decided on.
Closing his eyes, he did something that he hadn't done in a very long time... he reached out with his mind, searching for the nearest telepathic node. Just as he did so, a metal on metal squeak fluttered throughout the building, from the turn of the handle on the shop's main door. Flustered, he closed down the search and stepped in front of the counter, giant wings folded across in front of him, as fast approaching footfalls headed his way.
Having run all the way... well, from the monorail station anyway, wearing the heavy backpack that contained all his rugby coaching kit, so that he could go straight to the training ground at Basingstoke after work, in all his life, not once had he ever overslept, and of course it would be on a work day, wouldn't it? He did of course have the mother of all excuses but, knowing his employer, it probably still wouldn't wash. Soon enough, he'd find out. Dust rose up around his legs as he skidded to a halt outside the Mantra Emporium's main entrance. Swallowing nervously, wondering what the old shopkeeper's reaction would be, he told himself just to 'get on with it,' before turning the handle and rushing in.
It took all his control and agility not to run straight into his employer's puffed out chest as he dashed around the final bookcase and onto the shop floor proper.
Gee Tee gazed down at him, head tilted, eyes wide open, a knowing expression on his face. Tank breathed out heavily, holding up one finger on his right hand, all the while trying to catch his breath.
"Before you start," he puffed, "I can explain... well, kind of."
All the time a neutral expression adorning his face, the old dragon shook his head.
"I overslept," declared Tank honestly. Before the master mantra maker could interject, the young dragon continued. "However, there's a really good reason why." It was only then that he realised he was still wearing his huge backpack. Extricating himself, he continued. "I've only had a couple of hours' sleep since you last saw me on Friday. I spent all of yesterday at the library in Rome, and only got back to Salisbridge a few hours ago. But it was all worth it for what I've uncovered... I think."
Looking down, the master mantra maker, that neutral expression still on his face, remained silent, something that was more than a little intimidating to Tank, who had just managed to shrug his backpack off onto the floor.
Tank waited to be berated. It never came.
"I'm not mad. Just worried. It was so unusual for you not to be here. I was concerned something untoward had happened. I was just about to try and contact young Peter in the hope that he could help me locate you."
This was not what Tank had come to expect, and a small part of him was almost sorry that it wasn't the dressing down he'd feared.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I should have got in touch, but by the time I'd woken up, I figured I could almost be here in the same time it would have taken me to contact you. It won't happen again... I promise."
Gee Tee smiled. It was more than a little disconcerting.
"So, what did you find on your European excursion?"
"Now... you're gonna laugh," breathed Tank, fiddling around with his backpack on the floor, "but I took some notes," he added, pulling out a super cool looking notebook, the front cover smattered with rugby related pictures.
Not knowing what to make of it, all the master mantra maker could do was stare.
"But there was a reason. Yes, I know I've got an eidetic memory, but I wanted to make sure I got everything all in the right order, and the information in the library was dotted about all over the place."
Stretching out his wing to indicate the way, the old dragon uttered,
"Shall we adjourn to the workshop?"
Nodding in reply, Tank shoved his backpack along the floor so that it ended up against the counter and out of the way. Carrying just his notebook, he followed his employer through the shop, eager to share with him what he'd learnt over the weekend. Taking seats on opposite sides of the room, Gee Tee lounging back in his, Tank perching on the edge of his oversized chair, looking very much like a baby in a high chair, he opened up the notebook and began flicking through its pages. Quickly skimming through his notes, he turned to face his friend.
"I started off looking for any reference at all to the nagas."
"Did you tell the staff there that's what you were looking for?" interrupted the master mantra maker.
"Let me see," replied Tank sarcastically. "There's a secret global plot that could involve any number of races, and maybe dragons at all levels, so YES, I strolled in and shouted out that I wanted any and all information pertaining to the NAGAS!"
"Sorry."
"Just let me finish... okay?"
"Sure."
"It took a while to find anything at all, and even then it was obscure. Given the resources there, I expected much more. But there seemed to be next to nothing, almost as if the library had been purged of anything to do with them. But once I'd found that first reference tucked away, I knew where to look. While I wouldn't describe what I discovered as comprehensive, it did flash up one particularly relevant fact."
"And that would be?"
"One absolutely ancient scroll had text on it that described an exchange of information between a dragon trader and a naga shaman. It took place around the 11th century, somewhere in Eastern Asia. The
trader was fascinated by a metal that adorned some of the very important female nagas... specifically around their necks. From what I can make out, the shaman explained to the trader that the females were the king's concubines and that the metal in the necklaces prevented them from using their telepathic abilities."
Automatically sitting a little further forward, the mere mention of all this piqued the master mantra maker's interest.
"Anyway," continued Tank, "it turns out that the metal was also used to restrain and contain criminals in their society, disabling their abilities, turning them into outcasts." Flicking forward another half dozen pages or so, he carried on. "Here's where it gets more than a little interesting. The trader bartered, on and off, with the nagas for more than a decade, at one time spending more than three months in one go at their remote outpost. Going on to describe the metal, which he had something of an obsession with, he claimed that, as well as preventing telepathy, it was said to be... indestructible."
"Ha," snorted the old shopkeeper, "a bold claim indeed, but impossible."
Staying silent, Tank turned a few more pages until he found the one he was looking for. "During his time in the camp, he earned the shaman's trust and subsequently found out that the ore the metal is made from is a composite containing... laminium!"
That got Gee Tee's attention.
"Still think it's impossible?" challenged the young dragon, raising his eyebrows.
Blowing out a small cloud of smoke in the direction of his employee, the old shopkeeper started to say,
"Well..."
Before being interrupted by the youngster.
"It makes it a little more believable, if nothing else."
Gee Tee closed his eyes, deep in thought.
"So... go on. What else did you find?"
"There's not much more I'm afraid," answered Tank.
"So that's it!" remarked the old dragon. "A metal with the ability to block telepathic communication, which is potentially unbreakable. I admit it does kind of fit in with Flash's outline of what was going on in that cavern in Antarctica, but knowing about it does us no good at all."
