by Paul Cude
Having drawn level with the top of the cliff now, and tempting as it was to set Tim down on the rocky ground, particularly given the pain screaming from almost all his muscles, Peter sensed that his friend, for that's how he now thought of him, was just beginning to get a feel for it, and that this might be his one opportunity to get him to fly.
Rising past the top of the cliffs, Tim barely noticed as they continued over the drop and through the caustic cloud of toxic gas. Beginning to relax, feeling the air running over every contour of his prehistoric body, brushing every scale, caressing every muscle, it felt exhilarating and invigorating. It was bliss.
Unbeknown to Tim, Peter had glided silently away, currently circling below, watching to see what would happen when the brand spanking new dragon realised he was on his own. He thought it very much like a human parent teaching their son or daughter to ride a bike. It was that kind of moment.
With a flick of his tail, the white dragon pulled up his left wing, transferred all his weight right and drifted into a lazy circle, gliding high above the cliff. Out of the corner of his eye, a shape caught his attention. Peter!
'Oh my,' he thought. 'If he's over there, then that means..."
Starting to fall away, his composure shot to ribbons, Peter stopped circling below, ready to intervene. This time though, he waited to see if Tim could turn things around without any of his help.
A graceless fall sent the brand new dragon spiralling frantically out of control; his body, which only seconds before had been elegantly circling, now clumsily twisted and turned, wings flapping out of time, only making his descent more and more awkward. Hovering effortlessly nearby, willing his friend on, Peter could remember what it was like not to have the control, the balance, the natural feel of the air surrounding your body, and how to cut and carve through it. But for him it had been long ago, way back in the nursery ring, before he'd reached the age of ten. And he was one of the later developers on the flying front. Richie, of course, had been the first of them to achieve sustained flight. Not only that, but she was performing complicated aerial acrobatics long before most of her classmates had learned to even glide. At least that's how he remembered most of it. Years later, he'd heard a handful of rumours about an illicit late night laminium ball match at the nursery ring, supposedly involving a dragon from his year group. At the time they'd sounded far-fetched, but he'd often wondered whether or not Tank was involved in some way, shape or form. His friend had of course immediately denied knowing anything about it when questioned, but there was almost something left unsaid, like a cliff hanger at the end of a great book.
Snapping out of his thoughts, he made his decision to jump in and save Tim once again. But as he surged forward, the newly formed dragon managed to unsteadily come out of his roll, spread his wings and use a handily timed updraft to swoop around and up out of danger. Smiling to himself, he watched the look of elation on Tim's face, knowing instantly exactly what his friend was feeling and that he would be totally and utterly hooked. Hockey, rugby and lacrosse had nothing on the sensation of flying. There was just no comparison. Grateful for getting this far, Peter soared forward, looking to catch up with the undulating white dragon who was now drifting up towards the cavern's ceiling. On catching up, Peter let out a huge guffaw. Tim banked round, keen to learn what was so funny. Peter pointed to Tim's head, and then to his own.
"You've got a bit of..." he chuckled.
Tim frowned, not sure what was going on. Running his hands over his face, all the while continuing to glide, he came across two large rocky protrusions embedded in his prehistoric forehead. Gingerly pulling them out, he dismissed each, tossing them into the abyss.
"What's so funny?"
"That's gonna be your new name!"
"What?"
"Cliff Face," coughed Peter, still laughing.
"Good one," replied Tim, picking up on what his friend meant.
Drifting off to explore all four corners of the gigantic cavern, their hissing, chuckling and coughing echoed out behind them.
Having lost all track of time, it was only on one of Peter's sitting out phases that he realised just how long they'd actually been there, and just how much trouble he'd be in once he eventually got Tim back. Unsurprisingly, it was difficult to tear Tim away from the falls, but the promise of another trip later on in the week eventually did the trick. As they retraced their steps, Peter marvelled at the progress Tim had made during the course of the day. Basic aerial manoeuvres were nearly well within his grasp. It wouldn't be long before he could consider full mastery of the skies, he thought, longing for his comfy bed so that he could close his weary eyes.
26 Secret Splicing Stupidity
Exhausted, that's how he felt. Deep down inside, he knew it was mainly due to his age, but it still disappointed him. In his youth, a very, very long time ago, he would have managed on little or no sleep at all. Now it was very different. Still, he'd had six hours a few nights ago and that should at least see him through until tomorrow night. Snuggled in the darkness, underneath the cosy covers of his huge dragon sized bed, he whispered a few carefully chosen words and waited for them to take hold.
'What was my app... associate thinking? Of all the things he could have done. This! Installing that blessed... what's it called? Oh, that's right. A webcam! How could he possibly think that I wouldn't find out about it? STUPID BOY!'
Rolling back the covers of his living room sized bed, the master mantra maker shook his wings and planted his feet firmly on the floor, happy to know that he wasn't being watched. The words he'd just spoken had cast a mantra which projected an image of him sleeping straight onto the lens of the webcam, allowing him to go about his sneaky business and continue his important after hours work. Disregarding his night cap, he plodded out through the door and downstairs into the workshop. Foregoing any kind of drink, not needing to be glued to the toilet any longer than he actually had to be (it was an age thing, much as in humans. Being as old as he was meant that there was nearly always an imprint of a toilet seat on his scaly old buttocks, that's how regularly he went, something that seemed to become more and more prominent with each and every day that passed.) That and the fact that it made him more grumpier than usual in the mornings, he started scrabbling around in one of the cupboards underneath the sink, the one marked 'Recycled Mantra Paper'. He'd had to be extra specially careful, particularly after Tank had caught him out with the Peruvian Mantra Ink.
'Goodness knows what else the young dragon's found out,' he thought as he rummaged. And so it was that the intricate work he'd been doing every night for months now, had to be wrapped up and hidden amongst an infernal number of old, useless scrolls. Eventually he found what he was looking for: a large, rolled up, shabby looking, piece of flimsy parchment, tied together with two pieces of ropey string. Holding it with both hands almost as if it were about to explode, he carried it over to one of the work benches, set it down and flopped into the oversized chair in front of it. Carefully, and with superb dexterity, he undid the string and removed each and every piece inside, placing them all just so on the work surface in front of him. What to him was the result of months of exhaustive experimentation and delicate work would have looked to anyone else like the aftermath of very young children sticking and gluing. But to him, the mess was exactly as it should be.
Starting some months ago, springing from an idea that had occurred to him while he'd been trying to save Flash's life at the king's private residence, the source of the idea had been all the talk of nagas and how they'd infiltrated the humans, much in the same way dragons had, the only difference being that the dragons were following their vow to protect, which almost certainly couldn't be said for those slippery serpents. Being the sneaky, off the wall maverick that he was, Gee Tee had decided something needed to be done about the naga situation. All his thoughts on the matter had centred around being able to stun the entire lot of them temporarily. Although not ideal as a permanent deterrent, it did at least seem achievable, and woul
d buy the dragons some time, or just maybe get them out of a sticky situation.
In theory at least the idea was simple, but putting it into practice was something else altogether, not to mention dangerous, hence the reason he was doing it after dark and not giving his co-worker any clue to its existence. Having scoured his memory, the only way he could come up with to incorporate everything he needed into one mantra, was to use a method known as 'splicing', something that had been outlawed over one hundred and fifty years ago, that's how dangerous it was. But despite its illegality it was still practised, here and there anyway. Having not put his knowledge to good use in this format for many, many decades, the master mantra maker's keen mind was sure it would have no problems in completing this intricate and time consuming task. One thing he wasn't short of was confidence. So his night times at first were all about finding the right components from other mantras kicking around the Emporium, so that he could splice them into his alpha mantra. It took over a month to find what he was looking for. After that, the fun really began.
Splicing by its very nature can be dangerous in oh so many ways. Not just from the magical energy contained physically, such as in the page, scroll or tome. The power of thought can be a wonderful thing, as all dragons know. But when mantras are crafted, stray thoughts, ideas and willpower can be transferred, or can just unintentionally stick around. Either way, loose thoughts drifting around, combined with a sure supply of magical energy... not something you want to muck around with too much if you can help it. But if you want to splice, then it couldn't be avoided. Taking apart intricate details of a mantra with all these variables had proved disastrous in the past, leaving the council no choice but to officially ban such undertakings. But if you're careful, and more than a little lucky, it is possible to produce something so magical, so breathtakingly perfect, that all the risk would be considered worthwhile. This had been his goal, his aim, his obsession. Hopefully nobody knew of his out of hours exploits. Tank, of course, had always fussed over him, more so recently. Hence the reason for the webcam, he assumed, making sure that he was okay and got enough rest. Part of him felt warmed by the fact that his friend, as that's how he now thought of him, cared enough to do such a thing, but he was disappointed to have his liberty contained. It hadn't taken long to find out what it was, how it worked and just how it could be deceived, but it was a fuss to go through every night. Assuming it must be working perfectly, as the young dragon hadn't mentioned anything out of the ordinary, he was hopeful that things would stay that way, just for a little while longer. Tonight, if things went well, his dream would become a reality.
Having already gathered everything he required and retrieved the vital ingredients from their original mantras, the old dragon was ready to have a go at splicing together all the magical parts. Clearing his mind and focusing solely on the puzzle in front of him, he staved off the energy and willpower swirling around him from words, numbers, letters and symbols scattered across his desk. Very slowly, he moved the separate pieces around, this way and that, trying to find the most efficient order in which to channel the energy from the spell. So deep in concentration was he, that he missed the soft pad of footfalls slipping through the shop and into the workshop behind him.
"And there was me thinking you were fast asleep!" announced a voice from directly behind him.
Gee Tee nearly jumped out of his skin, scattering the tattered scraps of parchment everywhere as he leapt up and turned to face... TANK!
"You scared the living daylights out of me!" he yelled.
"Wouldn't have happened had you been asleep, getting the valuable rest that you so need. Would it?"
Just glaring, having been caught red handed, the master mantra maker tried to compose his thoughts.
"What on earth is it that you're doing here at this late hour?" he babbled.
"I've come to help you with the most dangerous part of your very ILLEGAL endeavour," replied the rugby playing dragon.
"How on earth...?" started the old shopkeeper, before giving up. There and then he decided he really didn't want to know how the youngster knew about the splicing. For the very first time, he started to consider that he was too old for all of this skulduggery business.
"Do you need me to catch you up?"
Jumping into another oversized chair, and then scooting over to the desk where his boss was working, Tank ventured,
"You've taken apart a series of mantras, pulling individual pieces from each, and now you plan on splicing them together to craft one almighty, life changing mantra?"
Gee Tee nodded.
"So what's the mantra for exactly? It must be something important to warrant this much sneaking about."
Smiling, the master mantra maker was secretly pleased that the young dragon still didn't know the purpose of the soon-to-be-crafted mantra.
"It will, I hope, negate whatever magic the nagas are using, and will temporarily stun them."
"Nice," said Tank nodding approvingly. "What kind of range will it have?"
Here was the bit that Gee Tee had dreaded talking to even himself about. (He talked to himself quite often in fact, like everyone else, when he thought he was alone.)
"Currently, only a very small one," announced the downcast dragon.
Tank took note of his friend's disappointment.
'No doubt he thought it was going to save the world, and it just might do that, but not if it only has a very small area of effect. I wonder if there's any way we can change all that?'
Sitting opposite each other, each keeping their own counsel, one racked his brains as to just how he'd been caught out, while the other tried hard to find the very last piece of the puzzle.
After a mind numbing few minutes of silence, Tank shouted,
"I'VE GOT IT!"
"Got what, youngster?"
"I know how we can apply it to the entire world!"
Gee Tee sat up straight in his chair, totally attentive, totally focused, ready to hear what his young employee had to say.
"We channel it through the telepathic newspaper nodes. The reach from those telepathic boosters covers nearly the entire earth's surface. What little isn't covered will almost certainly not have nagas up to no good in it."
A faint glimmer, a tiny spark burst into being, somewhere deep inside the old dragon.
"It does sound a little preposterous," he cautioned, "but it certainly has potential."
Tank decided he was going to quit there. The last line was almost certainly as much praise as he was ever likely to get. For him, it couldn't get any better than that.
"If we're going to do this, there's one more thing we'll need to make the mantra compatible with the telepathic nodes," muttered the old shopkeeper, heading for the door, urging his young friend to follow. "I seem to recall a seventeenth century dragon call to arms spell that was able to be broadcast across the entire node network, in the form of a scroll, somewhere in the shop. If we can find it, we can remove the broadcast section to add to the mantra we're splicing together. If we get it right, the mantra should work as you've suggested. Good thinking by the way." And that was it. Heading off to the far corner of the shop, leaving Tank stunned by his last words, the master mantra maker's muttering echoed throughout the bookcases.
Shaking his head clear, Tank thought about what his friend had just said. Not the compliment, but about where the mantra was located, having seen it not so long ago. Sifting through his memories, it didn't take long to find. Without bothering to tell the old shopkeeper that he was hunting in the wrong place, Tank followed the shop counter along, past the entrance to the dead end that led to the secret vault, turned left and then right, walked to the end of the aisle, turned left again and started rifling through a shelf full of scrolls, all neatly rolled up, tied tight with different coloured ribbons. Knowing he was looking for a green one narrowed it down to six scrolls. Unfurling the second one, he could see he'd hit the jackpot.
"I'VE GOT IT!" he shouted over the bookshelves and across the shop
floor.
Indecipherable spluttering and mumbling from the other side of the Emporium echoed back up the aisle as he headed back towards the workshop. Reaching the counter entrance at exactly the same time as his employer, the old dragon looked harried and harassed.
"That was the next place I was going to look," remarked the old dragon, totally straight faced, before walking past Tank and taking his place back at the table.
Following his friend back into the workshop, Tank opened out the scroll on the table in front of them.
"Hmmm... this is the right one. And I think it should do exactly what's required. Right then, let's get on and take it apart."
And they did. It took the best part of three hours to carefully dissect the words, the energy and the willpower. For the most part, Tank watched in awe as the master mantra maker lived up to his name, using a solid gold scalpel with a diamond encrusted edge to neatly carve up some of the scroll and peel away the occasional word or letter. The craftsmanship was outstanding, with the young rugby playing dragon never having seen anything quite like it. Discarding the unused part of the mantra on the workshop floor, Gee Tee sat back, his face baked in sweat, looking pale and more than a little worn out. Tank pleaded with him to rest but, stubbornly, he wouldn't hear of it. So after a huge mug of hot charcoal, well... more like a huge mug of marshmallows sprinkled with charcoal, the two of them sat side by side, about to perform a very dangerous and very illegal act. Cautiously, they laid out the pieces of the mantra they were trying to splice together, all in the order they needed to be to channel the magical energy most efficiently. In all, there were nine pieces of the puzzle. It was going to be tough. Gee Tee had already told Tank the most pieces he'd ever heard of being spliced together was seven, and that was by some ancient dragon over a thousand years ago, who was some kind of mystical mantra guru. Naturally, Tank was more than a little nervous. With the pieces laid out, the master mantra maker carefully retrieved the huge glass jar from somewhere underneath his desk. It was the one from the vault, full to the brim with glistening laminium rivets.
