by Paul Cude
Turning the door handle, he slipped inside, but not before scanning the street behind him. It was deserted. He expected nothing less. Letting out a huge sigh, not aware up until then that he'd been holding his breath, he marched off towards the front counter, weaving in and out of the bookshelves and aisles. Every time he visited, he would swear the aisles and shelves were in different places... not by very much, but he was convinced that was the case. He'd quizzed the shopkeeper about just that at least twice who on both occasions had very seriously told him that he was talking rubbish. But the more Peter thought about it as he headed into yet another dead end, the more he was sure he was right. After doubling back for the second time, eventually he caught sight of the counter. Walking swiftly towards it, he purposely stamped his feet, trying hard to make his presence known, not wanting to startle the old dragon.
"Good day, youngster," whispered a silky smooth voice directly in Peter's left ear.
So shocked was he, that he nearly lost his footing. The old dragon hadn't made a sound before he'd spoken, of that he was sure.
"Hi," he replied, visibly shaken.
"Sorry if I surprised you little one. It wasn't my intention."
"It's okay."
"Why don't you come through to the workshop. I'm pretty sure that's where my app... Tank, is."
And with that the master mantra maker stalked off through the raised slab of the front desk, towards the workshop. Peter followed, mouth open, his tongue hanging out. As they walked, or more like plodded in Gee Tee's case, Peter noticed the weirdest thing. The old dragon didn't make a sound. Not his footsteps, his wings brushing against the counter as he passed, or even opening the glass encased door to the workshop. It was all done in total silence. AMAZING!
On entering the workshop, a thickset head with hair cut short appeared from beneath one of the desks.
"Well?" it said. "Did it work?"
"Let's see what your young friend thinks."
"PETER!" yelled Tank, banging his head sharply as he jumped up.
Both friends took a step back after embracing briefly.
"What are you doing here?" asked Tank excitedly.
"I have a favour to ask," answered the young hockey playing dragon.
"What... AGAIN?" exclaimed Gee Tee, just teasing.
Peter nodded. And then something occurred to him.
"What was it you wanted to know whether it worked?"
"Well," said Tank, "the big Kahuna here has been testing out an old stealth mantra that we found buried away in the loft."
"Ahhhhh," exclaimed Peter. "That's why he made no noise walking into the workshop and how he was able to sneak up on me in the store."
Tank nodded, all the time a big Cheshire cat grin spread out across his face.
"What did you think?" the master mantra maker enquired.
"It certainly seemed to do the trick, but it was incredibly spooky to watch you walk and know that you're there, right in front of me, but not able to hear you at all. Just really weird. Like those fully electric cars above ground that make no noise at all. I mean, you can see them moving, but in total silence. It's just wrong on so many levels. At some point they're going to have to add some kind of noise to them so that pedestrians know they're coming."
"A resounding success," exclaimed the old shopkeeper sarcastically. Tank gave him a look.
"Come on, let's all sit down," suggested the giant rugby player. Gee Tee didn't need to be told again, and quickly slouched into one of the oversized chairs. Tank followed. Peter remained standing, fiddling about with something behind his back.
"You alright Pete?" Tank asked.
Nodding before pulling out from behind his back the reason he was here, wrapped in a dirty old cloth, he then proceeded to sit down, the object placed firmly in his lap. Sitting comfortably, he began.
"As you know," he said, nodding in Tank's direction, "for some time now, I've been convinced I'm being followed. Over the last few days, I think I can safely say that I have been. With this in mind, the only reason I can think that anyone would want to follow me, is because of this," he said, holding up the object wrapped in the dirty old cloth. "I was rather hoping that you could put it somewhere safe for me," he uttered, looking directly at the old shopkeeper.
"We don't really have anywhere secure I'm afraid Pete. I mean the shop itself is protected, don't get me wrong, but if the item that you're holding is that valuable, then maybe you should think about a bank vault or something like that. Everything you can see here is just scattered about. I doubt the defences would do much to deter serious dragons from gaining entry," offered Tank.
Silence wrapped them all up for the next few seconds, with Peter wondering what would happen next, and just whether or not he'd just dropped the old shopkeeper right in it.
"What is it that's so important you'd come here?" Gee Tee asked, a tiny glint in his eye.
Peter found himself thinking of the king's words. They cut right through him. But still, he carried on.
"It would take an awful long time to explain the exact story behind it, most of which I don't know anyway. But suffice to say, Fredric, my grandfather, left me this a very long time ago. It only came to light recently when the king, who'd been keeping a whole trunk full of stuff safe for me, delivered the trunk and its contents safely into my hands. I think when you see it, you'll know what it is and recognise not only its beauty, but its value as well."
Carefully, Peter unwound the cloth, his other hand taking all the weight of the object. Instantly the old shopkeeper scooted forward in his chair, which had tiny little wheels on it, much like a human office chair. Not wanting to be left out, Tank did the same. Gathered as close as they could, almost looking over the object, Peter pulled away the last part of the cloth, like a magician on his big finale, and waited.
Simultaneously Tank and Gee Tee gasped. The atmosphere in the room was electric.
"It can't be. It just can't be!" declared the old shopkeeper.
Tank simply stared, his eyes wider than Peter would have thought possible. In one swift move, the master mantra maker held out his hands. Again, Peter thought about the king's words. But he could think of no other alternative, and gently placed the dagger in the old shopkeeper's palm. Turning the dagger over and over in his hands, the shop owner was transfixed by the light reflecting off the perfectly cut jewels.
"Of all the things..." whispered the old dragon. "I've spent my entire life seeking out that which is rare in the extreme. I've seen, and possess, some of the most amazing artefacts and relics ever to reside on this wondrous planet. This however," he said, letting out a breath, "must be considered right up there with the best of them. I assume it is what Tank and I think it is?"
"Aviva's dagger," answered Peter, nodding.
Both shop workers shook their heads, flabbergasted. After a long silence, Tank finally cut in.
"How long have you had it?"
"The king gave me the contents of the trunk on the day we visited his private residence, when we first met Flash, and Gee Tee saved his life."
Tank had a faraway look in his eyes. That day was of great significance to him, and not just because of meeting the ex-Crimson Guard for the first time. It was the day he'd stood up to his boss, the day he'd had his say. And things hadn't been the same since. Feeling a sense of freedom, of mutual respect, of cooperation, things had changed a great deal for the better since that day.
"It doesn't feel as powerful as I would have expected," declared the master mantra maker, weaving the blade through the air. "Somehow I thought I'd be overwhelmed by the sheer force of its power."
Not sure whether the old shopkeeper was just fishing, or actually knew, Peter decided to 'fess up anyway.
"It has a mantra designed to contain its power cast on it, currently."
"Indeed," sighed Gee Tee knowingly.
"And yet I can still feel it," observed Tank.
"Whispering, calling," added Peter.
"Yeah," replied Tank, noddin
g in agreement. "It feels charming, seductive somehow, almost as if it wants me to... UNLEASH IT!"
On seeing its effect on his friend, the master mantra maker handed the dagger back to Peter, who for the most part seemed unaffected by its very nature, whether due to prolonged exposure, or something in his underlying dragon make up.
"Would you not be better asking the king to look after it for you? I'm sure he has access to some amazing security facilities, much better than anything we have here," remarked Tank, slightly more clearheaded now Peter had the weapon.
Before Peter could answer, the shopkeeper butted in.
"There's something you need to know, app... Tank. Something I've been keeping from you, and something that your young friend here knows."
"Peruvian mantra ink all over again!" quipped Tank, cuttingly.
"I've been meaning to explain... honest! It's just with everything going on around here, and with the urgency with which we've been working lately, it's totally slipped my mind."
"Come on then... out with it!"
Gee Tee and Peter shared a quick look.
"There's a hidden vault beneath the shop."
Tank eyed both of them suspiciously.
"I know every square inch of this shop, as well as all the mantras used in its containment, protection and structural reinforcement. There's not one single part I don't know, and I would know if there were some kind of vault anywhere in its vicinity."
Turning his prehistoric head in Peter's direction, the master mantra maker urged him on.
"There is Tank, I've seen it."
Tank eyed his friend with a mixture of suspicion and disbelief.
"I would know Peter," he said with determined conviction.
"It has the most wonderful things in it," continued the hockey playing dragon. "Legendary things that just can't be possible. But they are. Merlin's staff, Robin Hood's bow, Billy the Kid's pistols, it's just out of this world. And there are other weapons too. Magical knives, fantastic swords, foils, rifles... you name it, it's there! That's not to mention all the amulets, rings and charms. Wall to wall shelves full of spell books, tomes, scrolls and one off mantras. Piles of armour higher than I am tall, full to the brim with shiny chest pieces, helms, bracers, boots... it's all there."
At first Tank had been more than a little sceptical, but Peter's enthusiasm and detail were more than enough to convince him of the vault's existence. Silently he cursed himself for not realising it had been there all along. Over the course of his employment he thought he'd mapped out the whole shop and its surroundings so carefully, but in essence all he'd really done was fail. Part of him felt embarrassed, ashamed. He tried to push it to one side.
"So just why is it so secure?" asked the young rugby player, determined to find out more.
"Ohhhh... you just have to see it. There are all these security measures, Mongolian death worms, self replicating tunnels, freezing water, gravity anomalies and deadly flying seeds. It's all there. There's no way anyone who didn't know what to do, could gain access. It's just impossible!"
"Whoa, whoa, hold your horses child," interrupted the old shopkeeper. "The vault's good... in fact, better than good. But to say it's impenetrable is very dangerous indeed. There's no doubt it's one of the best around, but nothing, I repeat nothing, is impenetrable."
Peter felt suitably chastised, while his friend felt... curious. He wanted to see it now, had to in fact. Recognising the look on his former apprentice's face, the old shopkeeper could hardly blame him for it. Tank found himself harbouring a slight resentment for not having been told about the vault in the first place, as well as a burning curiosity to find out more.
"Are you sure, young Peter, that you really want to place that very special piece of history in my vault? You are of course very welcome to do so, but know that you would be the only other person to have anything in there. Everything else belongs to me. And understand this. As I've just said, nothing, I repeat nothing, is impenetrable. The safeguards as you've seen are beyond belief, and I judge them to be possibly the best in the kingdom. But that's not to say they can't be defeated. I want you to understand the risks. This is a very special dagger, and in the wrong hands could no doubt change the course of history."
For his part, Peter thought hard about whether this was indeed the right thing to do. Sensing it was, not just because he couldn't think of anywhere safer, but there was something else, a kind of gut feeling, something he rarely got, but whenever he did, following it usually turned out to be the right thing to do.
"If it's okay, I would very much like to store the dagger in your vault."
Gee Tee nodded an acknowledgement, small sizzling slivers of flame licking the outside of his nostrils as he did so.
"Very well," announced the shopkeeper. "Why don't you take Tank and go and put the blade in the vault? I would place it on the empty rock plinth, that way it will benefit from a little extra protection."
Wondering briefly about the 'extra' protection mentioned, Peter had little chance to dwell on it as Tank bounded up to him, unable to remember the last time he'd seen his friend this excited. And then it all came back to him. How dangerous traversing the vault was, how many close encounters they'd had, and that was with the master mantra maker there. Surely he should come along?
Sensing Peter's reticence, almost as if reading his mind, the old shopkeeper spoke up.
"You'll be alright; I've cast the mantras on both of you. Take your time, go slowly and remember each and every detail from your last trip. Everything will be okay. Don't forget to take some of the spiders with you."
Nodding, ill at ease, and with Tank like an excitable puppy beside him, Peter wrapped up the dagger before signalling for his friend to follow him, which he duly did. Leading them both down the dusty dead end of oak bookshelves, towering high, almost out of sight, Tank's first thought was that there must be some kind of mistake, but as he stood behind his friend, watching him move the web encrusted tomes this way and that, he marvelled at the ingenuity of it all.
'So simple, and yet so utterly complex,' he thought.
Slipping what he thought was the last one into place, Peter took a step back as a loud hiss of escaping air whistled past his ears and the tiniest of clicks set in motion the circular bookcases splitting in two, revealing a shiny metal pole. Smiling at what was to come next, he had to contain his laughter.
'If nothing else, I'm going to have some fun with Tank,' he thought, turning to face him.
"Remember, don't touch anything, and always do as I do."
With that he turned, took a running leap at the pole, which he managed to grab first time, and shouted "GERONIMO!" at the top of his voice, as he slid into the darkness.
Tank didn't know what awaited him in the black void, but had already committed himself to finding out.
'Oh well,' he thought, 'here goes nothing,' and with that followed his friend's example, right down to the "GERONIMO!"
Across the world phones rang, emails arrived, text messages were received. Innocuous looking for the most part, but in reality, far from it. All the communications had one thing in common. Three words were used in each. Rare, requisition and relinquish. Innocent enough you might think, but not if the recipients were waiting for those very three words. In this case... THEY WERE! Nagas across the globe, most disguised as humans, some as dragons, were all being made aware that something was imminent. Something was coming, a storm of change. All were now on alert, ready to act at a moment's notice.
34 SUB-mission
A few hours ago, that's when the partying had finished. Clearing up the beautiful little town would begin early in the morning. But now, for the most part, Swanage slept on a warm summer's night.
The bay was the surface of a pizza, the boats and yachts the mouth watering toppings. All aboard had stayed up long into the night. All now slept.
Only a few hundred yards beyond the bay, in the much deeper water, a dark shape silently broke the almost mill pond still surface, creatin
g barely a ripple. By now, the epic submarine's powerful engines were resting, the state of the art craft anchored to the seabed in what would be regarded as quite a minimal amount of water. Noiselessly, hatches opened aboard the dark metallic sea monster. Eclectic shadows scuttled to and fro. A small dinghy with an advanced electric motor appeared from somewhere. Carefully, it was lowered into the sea. More dark shapes, some moving faster than others, transferred aboard the smaller vessel. Its complement complete, it sped off towards the bay, heading directly for the town itself, the gigantic sea monster that had spat it out swallowed up once again by the ocean.
Cautiously, giving the vessels in the bay as wide a berth as possible, the dinghy found its way to the tiny slipway in the very centre of town, adjacent to huge three storey guest houses and fabulous fish and chip shops.
Two nagas in their peculiar human forms were first to step off the boat, followed quickly by Manson, leaving the female sitting next to the old dragon Troydenn. Strolling purposefully up the slippery, cobbled slope, Manson's head darted this way and that, constantly on the lookout for danger. From out of the arched doorway of the nearest guest house, a figure emerged and tentatively made its way forward, past the bins overflowing with fish and chip wrappings and around the plump seagulls, still squabbling over the remnants of what had previously been someone's meal. Both nagas tensed, ready to spring. Before they had a chance, the low light provided reassurance that the figure was a familiar one. Manson clasped the figure's hand tightly.
"Rosebloom!" he whispered, aware that the windows of the surrounding houses and flats were all open wide on this hot summer's night.
The traitorous councillor, currently in his human form, still sporting a ridiculously long pony tail, grasped his co-conspirator's hand.
"Good to see you," he replied quietly. "There's nobody about. We have people keeping watch. We've secured one of the entrances, here and down below. and are ready to go."
Manson nodded.
"Great work," he uttered softly.
