by Paul Cude
"I'm not going to lie to you. I'd prefer to go alone, but I think you may be right... they, and I, might well need your help. But where we're going... it's dangerous... deadly so. If you want to tag along then I'm not going to stop you, and I'll do all I can to keep you safe. But it may not be enough. Peter and Tank are in grave danger, but there's more, so much more, that I can't even begin to explain. You'll have to just trust me. I'll repeat again, I would much rather go alone."
Nodding, they all once again expressed that they wanted to accompany her, albeit without the kind of enthusiasm that they'd shown before. With that, Taibul returned, carrying with him what looked like half the kitchen. In seconds, he'd distributed the few torches and all of the knives to the rather reluctant members of the group. He stood there holding a spare knife.
"Thanks Taibul, but I don't think we'll be needing that one," ventured Richie, slipping her torch onto her belt.
"It's not for you. It's for me. I'm coming with you."
Richie was blown away.
"I'm really sorry, you can't."
"Peter's my friend. One of the few I really have. My confidence at hockey, the reason I've stayed in the second team and progressed so well... it's all down to him. If he's in trouble, then I want to help. No, I need to help. PLEASE!"
Shaking her head in disbelief, Richie agreed that he could tag along. The beaming smile he shot her way troubled her deeply.
With the team all gathered, Richie turned and glared out of the front window of the restaurant. About fifty yards away, lit by a couple of street lights, she could just make out the Poultry Cross, the centrepiece of the old market place which was hundreds of years old, and their key to gaining access to the dragon domain. This was their destination.
"Okay," she stated, not at all happy. It wasn't so much taking them into the below ground dragon world that had her worried; after all, the dragons would just wipe their memories. It was the danger. If what she'd seen was going on, there was no telling exactly what they would be walking into. Turning to the very dangerous looking group, she thought of one more thing to say.
"Just one more thing before we go. You are all to do exactly as I say. Do you understand? No thinking about it, no arguments... exactly what I say... first time. However odd the instruction might seem."
They all nodded eagerly, more due to the serious look on Richie's face than anything else.
Grabbing her jacket that along with all the others had been returned, she slipped the ferocious looking knife into the inside pocket, turning to the others, all of whom were concealing their not so makeshift weapons in the same way. Leaving all the cash she had as payment, she turned to the others.
"Let's go."
As one, they strode past the other diners, all of whom weren't sure what to make of the very unusual happenings of the last half hour. About halfway to the door, Richie stopped at a table of diners, none of whom she knew. One of the two women seated was chewing some gum. Richie looked at her, all businesslike. The restaurant held its breath. Holding out the palm of her hand, Richie ordered,
"Your gum... GIVE!" Obligingly, the woman immediately spat the gum into Richie's hand. Without a word, she turned, squeezed past one of the waiters and continued on towards the exit. Another of the waiters held the front door open for them. Nodding to Taibul, he wished him, "Good luck," as he exited. Crossing the road in front of the restaurant, Richie told them all to wait. As the group stood still, the lacrosse captain sauntered over the ancient, uneven cobbles towards the Poultry Cross, all the time weaving as though she were a little the worse for wear. Her friends had no idea what was going on. Just before she reached the ancient monument, she staggered theatrically and veered sharply to one side, where she crashed into the base of a long, thin, blue pole, with a CCTV camera designed to keep an eye on the Poultry Cross atop it. In the blink of an eye, she shimmied thirty feet up the pole until she was behind the camera and, clinging on precariously with one arm at the top, she reached around and stuck the aforementioned gum right across the lens. At the same time as she released her grip, she kicked off the pole, her friends looking on, stunned, as she performed a perfect back flip and landed unharmed at its base.
Beckoning them over as she skulked into the shadows of one of the city's most recognisable features, the friends gathered round her as she stood up on the shiny, worn stone that formed a circular seat around the monument. Reaching up with both hands, she ran them along the centuries old stone, looking for two particular points. Finding an indentation shaped like an upside down tankard, she felt a finger sized groove, which she ran her longest digit along. As soon as she'd finished she turned around, jumped back down, and stood facing one of the stone pillars that formed part of the outside of the Poultry Cross. Each and every one of the friends were perplexed, but they didn't have long to wait for the answer to their unvoiced questions. In total silence, a triangular section of stone floor exactly in front of where Richie now stood, appeared to drop down and then slide back out of sight, revealing a set of worn, curved, stone steps. Without looking back, Richie stepped down, followed tentatively by the others. As soon as they'd all cleared the entrance, Richie whispered for them to all turn on their torches. They did so straight away, as the stone above them glided back into place, blocking out every last bit of light from the street lamps above. Following one another down the tightly wound spiral of worn stone steps with just the torches that they'd been given for light, the stale smell of the air they breathed became almost overpowering. Nobody said a word. They moved like this for some time, nearly an hour in fact, by which time they were nearly all panting like overworked sheep dogs, dripping in sweat. When they started, the air had felt cold, but was now something akin to a sauna, and of course there was no way they could remove their jackets and coats in such a confined space.
"Go careful now," Richie whispered, "we're just about to stop." Other than feet on steps, it was the first sound they'd heard since starting out. Janice nearly dropped her torch in surprise. They stopped, all except Richie grateful to catch their breath. It was impossible to see exactly what she was doing, but again it looked to the others as though she was scrabbling around trying to find some sort of concealed switch or contact. In a matter of moments, bright light flooded through a gap large enough to act as an exit. Richie slid through, closely followed by the others. If they'd thought it was stifling inside the stairwell, the wave of hot air that greeted them was like opening the door to a furnace. Emma nearly passed out, indeed she might have if not for Hook seeing her discomfort and removing her jacket in double quick time. Only then did the friends take in the scene around them.
Exiting from a solid stone wall that had to be a hundred feet tall, it was hard to see the ceiling or roof of the... cavern, at least they thought it was a cavern they were in. Rounded houses carved into the surrounding rock sat either side of where they stood, giant in size, disappearing off into the distance. They weren't just any houses though. The lip of the window on the house next to them came up to about the height of Hook's head. Made of rock, the front door must have been about three times Hook's size, and he was by far the biggest of the group. They couldn't help but wonder who these houses belonged to, where on earth they were and why lava flowed freely down the walls and along tiny rivulets in the middle of the street. All fought back the desire to ask the troubled looking Richie.
"Jackets off. Lose the torches, and if you have a knife... keep it handy," ordered the lacrosse captain, tossing her jacket to the ground, followed closely by the others.
"We're heading to the main bazaar which is about two thousand yards directly in front of us," she whispered. "We need to make sure we're not seen. I can't begin to stress how important this is. So we're going to go slow. I'm going to lead. Hook, you bring up the rear. Everyone else... pay attention. If I hold my fist up like this," Richie held up a closed fist, "then we all stop... dead still. Understand?"
They all nodded their agreement.
"I can't answer all your
questions now, but all I can say is that if you think this blows your mind, you haven't seen anything yet. But remember, all of our lives depend on stealth. Do not, and I repeat do not, get separated. If you see anything that looks like a danger, whisper a warning to me. Okay?"
Again, they all nodded.
"Good. Let's move out."
With that, Richie, all the time crouching, moved along the building they were beside and headed straight across the next intersection, the rest of the gang following in her footsteps. Three side alleys (each about the width of a one way street) and four more significant thoroughfares later, the group hugged the side of a dusty orange bungalow with a walled off garden, that housed a chicken coop with over fifty chickens in it. The noise and smell were overpowering, the heat, stifling. Richie leaned against the wall and took a moment to compose herself. They were closing in on the bazaar, and had yet to see any dragons. Her vision, prophecy, call it what you will, was starting to look spot on. Quite a significant part of her had hoped she was wrong, that they'd have walked out from the staircase and been instantly surrounded by dragons and carted off to appear before the council. At least that way she'd have known that everything in the underground world was okay. But this... the deserted houses, the eerie quiet (apart from the occasional animal) worried her no end. Although not as much as how she was going to take on what had appeared in her vision as nothing short of a small army. Although her memory had returned for the most part, she was still stuck in the form of a human, with human strength and stamina. How she was supposed to go up against even one dragon with just a knife was frankly beyond even her. Sucking in a breath, she crouched, and checking across the street and to her left, tiptoed around the corner... straight into a humungous wall of scales. The impact left her ears ringing, but she had the presence of mind to plunge the vicious looking knife straight into the rather stunned looking dragon that stood before her. It was a great strike, having put all her power and strength behind it. Unfortunately for her, all that happened was that the reflective silver blade crumpled on impact. Standing, shell shocked, waiting for the worst, as the audible gasps and sighs of surprise from behind her got louder, it was then that it got even weirder.
"Whoa... little one," whispered the silky smooth voice of the dragon in front of her.
Momentarily she was frozen by shock, something which in itself surprised her, as though it were her first time. Nothing had ever even phased her before, let alone induced paralysing terror. Her friends were the same, but for them it was understandable. The only dragons they'd ever seen were either in books, on the television or in video games. To see a real one standing only a few feet away, living and breathing, was a reality altering experience, that's for sure. Looking over her shoulder, she could see her friends' wits just about starting to regain control over their petrified bodies. Two, Hook and Taibul, were both starting to raise their weapons, clearly intent on attacking. Knowing their situation was hopeless she immediately raised her closed fist, drawing things to an end. Both friends reacted instantly, standing where they were, grateful not to have to go up against the giant, prehistoric beast.
Something inside her stirred. Questions filtered to the surface. Why hadn't the dragon attacked? It could surely have taken them down in just a handful of seconds. As well, it looked kind of odd. Not like any she'd pictured in the vision she'd had. Those that looked in control of the situation there, the ones who had clearly chosen to side with Casey and were torturing her friends all had very peculiar markings/tattoos on their bodies. She couldn't recall exactly what they were, but knew that each dragon had exactly the same thing. Briefly, she wondered if she might not bargain with the beast; perhaps it could be bought or persuaded just to let them go, but the very thought seemed as futile as the strike she'd made with her borrowed knife.
Shuffling back slightly, the dragon leaned down, bringing its head level with Richie's face. A resonance of familiarity rang through her mind. Sifting through her newly gained memories, trying to match them with what she knew was a very unusual looking dragon, her heart pounded with the seriousness of the situation. For a start, the strange beast carried an enormous dragon sized rucksack on its back, the dimensions of a small car. As well, it looked... old. In all her dragon memories she recalled, every dragon looked... well, young. Not even middle aged. And then, there were the... GLASSES! Square plastic framed glasses...
'How odd,' she thought, 'a dragon wearing glasses.' Something about those set alarm bells ringing (in a good way) throughout her subconscious. Before she could hit the nail on the head, a flimsy looking wing that had seen better days, enveloped her tightly.
"Oh it's so good to see you, little one," stuttered the old dragon. "I thought for a moment that I'd been mistaken, or gone to the wrong place."
As the two of them stood nose to nose, it just started to dawn on the old dragon that the human shape in front of him was having a hard time remembering who he was.
"Ahhhh... you don't remember."
Summoning up all of the courage she possessed, Richie managed to stammer,
"I know I have nothing to fear... you're, you're a... friend."
"Good, little one, good," rumbled the dragon, smiling.
And then it came to her.
"Gee Tee."
"Exactly," roared the old shopkeeper, his scaly belly wobbling like Santa's belly when his sleigh hits turbulence.
"I'm so sorry. My head, it's still kind of... fuzzy."
"That's alright my dear. It's the ring. It'll do that to you, for a while at least."
Shuffling forward, she hugged as much of the old dragon as she could reach, as the group of friends behind her looked on, astonished.
"Much as this is very nice my dear," ventured the master mantra maker, looking at the group over Richie's shoulder, I don't think we really have time for all this. Perhaps now would be a good time for introductions, before one or all of your comrades pass out."
"Uhhh... sure," sighed the young lacrosse player, finally able to gather her wits. "Everyone, this, this is... Gee Tee. He's, he's my... friend."
The group's expressions were priceless.
"And this, Gee Tee, is..." Richie moved over to each one, pointing them out with their respective names.
Plodding over, the old dragon reached over to each of them, offering out his hand as Richie introduced them in what must have been one of the most bizarre encounters in the history of the planet. Each human grasped the outstretched hand and shook it gently. With the introductions done, the subject moved on to more pressing matters.
"How did you know where to find us?" asked Richie.
Gee Tee pondered the question thoughtfully.
"Odd things have been going on for some time now. Weeks in fact. Tank thought my comments were just the continued ramblings of an old dragon, but anyway, things started to come to a head when a group of very serious beings tried to break into the Emporium two nights ago. Of course they didn't succeed, but they were very well equipped and they only failed by the skin of their teeth. I'd already instigated every mantra that I'd acquired over the past five hundred years or so to protect the premises, but it very nearly wasn't enough. I knew I had to take matters further. And there seemed like only one thing to do. The Japanese dragons of old developed a mantra that could... see into the future. As it happens, it wasn't very reliable and, as we both know, the future itself is always in flux, very much on the move. But this mantra was different to the ones we're always hearing about. So with a copy of it tucked away in my personal vault for safekeeping... I tried it out. I was sceptical at first, as the dark images started to consume my mind. But on seeing my app... friend, Tank, strung up from some kind of metal gallows, I knew that I was on the right track.
"In the bazaar, here," added Richie.
"Precisely," nodded the old dragon. "Anyhow, I continued with the mantra, trying to piece together exactly what was happening. And that's how I stumbled across you and your merry little gang. I saw you sneaking down here and
knew that if I left straight away, that I could intercept you before you reached the bazaar."
"To what end?"
"I'm not exactly sure. But I'm way too old to take on a band of mass murdering dragons all by myself. And while you and a group of humans wouldn't be my first choice as help, you are all that I have."
"Thanks for the ringing endorsement," pitched in Richie, her voice laden with sarcasm.
"Don't be like that, little one."
Richie could hear one of her friends stifle a bit of laughter at her being called 'little one'. She thought it was Hook, and made a note of it for... later!
"Anyhow, I figured if we're all in this together, the least I could do was to... even up the odds a little," announced the master mantra maker, sliding the gigantic canvas backpack off and gently lowering it to the ground in front of them all.
This got Richie's full attention.
"Would you like to see?" asked the old dragon, a playful smile on his face, sensing full well how keen Richie really was.
"If it's not too much trouble," replied the lacrosse captain, grinning from ear to ear at the thought of whatever mischief the old shopkeeper was about to introduce them to.
Gee Tee turned and beckoned to Hook. As the strapping rugby player made his way nervously forward, the old dragon bent down and retrieved something large out of the backpack. Hook pulled up next to Richie and was rather surprised when the old shopkeeper offered him what looked like some kind of rusty old jetpack. Hanging off the right hand side was a flimsy looking holster holding a metallic gun, which had an oversized barrel, making it look more like a rifle than a pistol. It was in fact a cross between the two, and not dissimilar to a modern day jet washer.
"Put it on, put it on," urged the old dragon. Not wanting to offend something three times his height and weight, Hook slipped his arms through the straps and shrugged it into place, unable to believe how heavy it actually was, as the old shopkeeper had used just one finger to pick it up out of the backpack and hand it to him. Richie frowned on noticing the worn label running down one side of the main compartment. It had obviously once read 'WATER', but the word was now barely visible.
