Bentwhistle the Dragon Box

by Paul Cude

  'Things,' he thought, 'are about to get interesting.'

  Having taken the longest route back they could, inasmuch as they figured they might be needed for the battle that ensued in the huge square. They were right. Peeking out of the shadows of an alleyway that opened out onto the square, they were all absolutely terrified as they watched monsters from nightmares breathe fire, wield swords and batter each other out of the way. Arriving just in time to see Flash spirit Janice to safety, nearly all their hearts skipped a beat, the ex Crimson Guard's save had been so close. But now it was Flash's turn to be in trouble, and despite his bravado it looked as though his time was about to be up. With courage he didn't know he had, the young waiter amongst them spoke up.

  "We have to act... NOW!" It brought them all to their senses.

  "Whhhaaatttt can weeee doooo?" stuttered Angela, petrified.

  "The grenades," offered up Emma. "A concerted attack from all of us at the same time on that group might just work."

  All agreeing, in unison they tore grenades from the bandoliers they wore.

  "After three," said Emma. "One... two... three," and together the four of them let fly with their weapons.

  Janice had barely taken a breath since her rescue. It was only when Flash had engaged the guard in combat that she'd realised exactly what had happened and who had saved her. Tears streamed down her face. And now as she watched, a whole gang of dragons headed his way, by the look of things, determined to tear him limb from limb. But that wasn't going to happen, not if she had anything to do with it. Thinking about the best way to help Peter's friend, it took her only a fraction of a second to realise that either jumping down next to him and joining the fight, or throwing him Fu-ts'ang was little more than futile. But what caught her eye, behind the onrushing guards, were the prisoners they'd left unattended. They were the answer, and perhaps the salvation of everyone.

  Standing up, she wobbled slightly, her legs full of anxiety, like the rest of her. Facing the building next to her, she knew that if she could make the jump across the alleyway and onto its roof, she could leap down unhindered and land almost amongst the unattended detainees. The jump must have been nearly ten feet though. Gripping Fu-ts'ang tight, she ran. As the front of her trainer reached the edge of the roof, she launched herself for all she was worth. Amazingly, she cleared the chasm with ease. Landing with too much momentum, she crashed carelessly to the ground. Surprisingly, she didn't mind. On her feet in an instant and with the group of prisoners watching her every move, she climbed down the front of the building. With a quick look from side to side to make sure there was no immediate danger, she sprinted across to the group and started to cut off their restraints with Fu-ts'ang. As the first prisoner's bonds clanged to the floor, she looked up into the dragon's eyes, not knowing what to expect. She got more of a surprise than she bargained for. A loud chortle assaulted her ears, followed by words that would always stay with her.

  "For such a pretty human, you have a mean attitude and an even meaner sword. Keep up the good work, little one." And off he shot to join in the battle. Janice was stunned, that is until the growls of the other dragons brought her back to reality. They, too, wanted to join the battle and this was their chance. Janice had no intention of depriving them of their wish. One by one, she set them free.

  Well, he'd given it a good go. At least that's what Flash thought. Counting eight, even in the good old days, in his true dragon form, before the unspeakable encounter with those bloody nagas, he might still have struggled with that many. Alright, maybe not. His record, from what he could remember, was fourteen... in one go, anyway. Crouching low, making as small a target as possible, he looked at what he faced. Having already taken out three of them, he'd killed the first unwitting one with the splintered end of a wooden pole off a broken market stall, finding the watery crunch which had signalled the end of that first guard's life, incredibly satisfying. After that, the next two had been relatively easy. It hadn't been hard to steal the first guard's dark coloured sword and dispatch the overeager attackers. But now, for the first time today, he felt as though he were in trouble. The rest had backed off and he could see in their eyes exactly what they were about to do. They were going to rush him. As it stood, there was no way he could take five, not at once. Maybe if they all came one at a time, but even then it was unlikely that he would make it through them all. For several seconds he'd been searching for options, but he could find none that made any sense. Hoping that he hadn't consigned Janice and the others to a fiery fate, he positioned himself in classic Roman battle stance, the blade of the dark sword running alongside his head, inches from his right ear, and chose which two of the guards would be joining him in oblivion.

  All five charged. Flash didn't take his eyes off any of them. And then something beautiful happened. Objects dropped out of nowhere, amongst them. Objects that his perfect memory, perfectly recalled. He smiled. The onrushing guards could make no sense at all of what they were seeing. As the air crackled around them, that was the least of their worries.

  Taibul, Emma, Sam and Angela each found themselves another grenade, and in the kind of teamwork usually reserved for their respective sports, each pulled back their arms and, with a flick of their wrists, launched the ticking time bombs once more into the path of Flash's assailants.

  The first grenade to go off scattered a huge electrical arc across the cobbles around the guards' feet. Two of the five tumbled to the floor. Flash didn't know where the help was coming from, but figured that his best course of action was to hold his ground. He couldn't have been more right. Almost immediately after the first, four more electrical grenades erupted amongst the group of guards, spitting sizzling bolts of crackling energy in all directions. All but one of the guards was hit, with the remaining lone dragon continuing on towards his target: Flash! Stumbling, the others fell, nearly all suffering in one way or another. As the aroma of scorched scales wafted delicately across the battleground that had once been the revered bazaar, the four dragon guards extricated themselves from the tangled muddle that the grenades had caused, and watched as their comrade reached his target. Once on their feet, they'd taken no more than a step in Flash's direction, when four more grenades landed in between them. Panic zipped across their faces.

  The lone dragon couldn't quite understand where his friends were. Only an instant ago they'd been beside him. And then, it was just him. He didn't care though. This human, this... abomination... that stood before him was just inhaling its last breath. Marvelling from a distance at the luck this thing had somehow found to defeat the first guard and then dispatching the other two, with one of their own swords of all things, he was no doubt a practised warrior. But practised against humans, and had just gotten lucky. Now luck wasn't going to save him, he thought as he flew into range of the human. Now, it was time to die and he was looking forward to skewering this thing like a stuffed pig; perhaps after all was said and done, he'd feast on its entrails.

  Casey was done with all this, he'd decided. For his entire tenure in the nursery ring, he'd been thwarted by the female dragon now before him, stuck in her human form. But only seconds ago she'd sliced through part of his wing. It hurt. It hurt beyond measure. But there was more to it than that. In his peripheral vision, he'd been taking stock of everything that had been going on. Up until this DNA challenged protagonist had arrived, everything had been going very nearly to plan. But since her arrival, other things had happened all around the cobbled square. Guards were being defeated, some, he'd seen out of the corner of his eye, even frozen. Tank's new friend, who felt... unusual, not quite a dragon, but not quite a human, had escaped and was terrorising a group of guards... what on earth was going on with that? And the dragon prisoners that had been rounded up from this godforsaken city, were being freed right at this very moment. With things having taken a turn for the worse, he'd just decided to cut his losses, run and take his chances with Manson, when that no good, smart arse, thinks she's better than anyone else... dragon, had sl
iced right through his wing, preventing him from taking to the air.

  'Typical,' he thought. 'These things always happen to me. Never to Theobald or... Fisher!" A smidgen of sick tried to force its way up his oesophagus at the thought of what had happened to his friend. If he could go back, he'd never have agreed to take part. But it was too late. His friend was dead and he was up to his neck in it. That, and the... conspiracy. He just wanted to go, take off. Leave. But that opportunity had been cruelly snatched away from him. And the dragon responsible waved her dagger around in front of him, supposedly toying with him. She was about to find out what it meant to mess with a real dragon.

  Exploding simultaneously, a crescendo of electricity scattered about the entire area, rendering the guards perfectly still. Taibul, Emma, Angela and Sam were unsure about what to do next, not knowing how long their targets would remain immobile. They didn't know if using any more of the electrical grenades would harm the dragons. It wasn't as if they could just waltz right up to the guards and either incarcerate or even kill them. All they seemed to have done was buy Flash a little more time. Time he was using, even now, to reacquaint himself with his primary skill set.

  A semi-circular stream of fire erupted from between the lone guard's jaws, Flash the intended target. Smiling to himself as he bounded off to one side of his enemy's attack, Flash had but one thought. 'Amateur!' Rising up, he planted two feet firmly on the cobbles, ready to go again. Having seen the guard's telltale inhalation of breath for what it really was, he knew exactly what was heading his way, long before his opponent had even opened his mouth. Dancing out of the way was as easy as any game played by dragonlings in the nursery ring, but much as he was glad his training was serving him well, giving him an edge and making the fight easier than perhaps it would have been for some, he felt a sense of urgency niggle at him. He had to dispatch this one quickly, because who knew what might happen next in the ensuing mayhem? Also, he could just make out Tank, hanging limply like a broken, useless limb. The sooner things here were at an end, the sooner he could help his friend and they could all find some answers.

  While he'd been exhaling flame at Flash, the guard had drawn his vicious looking bastard sword that hung from his side. It now sat firmly in his left hand as he leapt forward and tried to take Flash's head off with one giant swipe of it. Leaning back just below the blade's edge as it shot past, Flash regained his balance and pivoted on his right foot, throwing nearly all his weight into a controlled turn. As he did so, he brought his left foot up and, adding a little of his dragon power, performed a roundhouse kick that punched a foot sized hole in the guard's wing membrane, as well as crushing more than a few delicate bones, judging by the sound of the CRUNCH it made on impact. The guard, who'd been about to unleash another round of flame from his mouth, started to gurgle and choke. Flash seized the moment. Wrestling the guard's sword out of his hand, Flash brought the hilt up underneath the dragon's jaw with all his might to the sound of a rapturous THUMP, and as he toppled forward, slid the blade of the sword into the dragon's weak spot, much to the guard's surprise. He died looking... perplexed.

  Immobile after the electrical discharges, the guards on the ground had gone from being statues to vibrating like the strings on a guitar. They weren't quite ready to continue their attack, but the friends figured it was only a matter of seconds now. In agreement, they all drew more grenades and prepared to throw them. As they drew back their arms, the need to do so disappeared.

  Two of the prisoner dragons freed by Janice dropped out of the air, skidding to a halt on the shiny cobbles, right in the middle of the trembling guards, whose resistance to the grenades' output was just about complete. But it was too late for them, needing but seconds to break the spell the electricity had cast over their muscles and once again join the fight. It wasn't to be. The first freed prisoner, a silver and yellow flecked dragon, slim and sleek like some kind of record breaking car, opened his jaws wide, leant forward and in an instant, bit right through the first guard's throat. A thin spray of light green liquid arced into the air, splattering all the surrounding stone. Under normal circumstances, this kind of attack would have been met with complete and utter disgust, contempt and revulsion. But these were far from normal circumstances. Also, only a few truly saw what happened, and most were too busy fighting for their lives to dwell on something that may well have helped them survive the rest of the day.

  A little less specific with her targets, the next freed prisoner landed amongst the quivering guards and began ripping at them with the talons on her feet, all the time blinding them with a purple and blue tinged streak of flame from between her jaws. Scales lay strewn across the ground, while the aroma of freshly burnt dragon floated lazily on what little breeze there was. Blood lust threatened to overcome both attackers, who considered that they were only really defending their homes, their friends, their way of life.

  Watching both dragons rip into the two guards that only a short time ago had been their captors, Flash was unsure of what to make of the intensity of the violence. On one level he understood: the need for revenge and to protect one's way of life was almost coded into every being's DNA. But the change from enlightened being to savage had taken mere moments. To be honest... he thought it would take longer, be harder. Oh not for him, after all, he had been trained for a very long time in nearly every form of violence that existed. But he was trained so that dragons like the two in front of him didn't have to be, so that they could live, quiet, happy, productive lives without the burden of worrying about plots, conspiracies and terrorism. It was a crying shame, he thought, sensing movement behind him. Turning, ready to strike, he was relieved to see Janice accompanied by a dragon protector. In her right hand she held the most wicked looking weapon he'd ever seen. He'd thought the one Richie had turned up with was awesome, almost something from the history books, but this, this looked so... futuristic! Sparkling with an almost light blue tint, the blade seemed to be constantly moving, with the cold turning the vapour in the air around it into... mist. Not a being in the world would not be fearful of it. It sent shivers down his spine, up his arms, and he knew that if he'd had his tail back, it would be positively shaking.

  Wrapping her arms around him, delighted to see a friendly, human face, Janice gave him the biggest hug ever.

  "I'm so glad you're okay," gushed the blonde haired braveheart. "Oh... thanks for the save by the way. If you hadn't turned up I'd be... I'd be..." It was only now the nervous energy and adrenaline had started to fade away that she could see exactly what had happened, and just how close a call it had all been. Sharp reality hit her like the powerful left hook of a title fight boxer. She could barely speak, everything felt so overwhelming. Flash put his arms around her to comfort her.

  "It's nearly over. Everything's going to be alright. And by the way, it's me who should be thanking you... and the others. You saved us, not the other way round." In the hope that it would cheer her up, he offered up his best smile. As he did so, the tiniest voice inside him screamed a warning as loud as it could.

  Feigning an attack with a burst of fire from his jaws, Casey wove one of his fingers like he'd been shown and added as much conviction to the mantra as he dared. An invisible ball of solid air hit his nemesis... Richie, full on, just as she was rolling out of the way of the fiery breath that never materialised. So powerful was the impact that it tossed her thirty feet back along the ground, battered and out of breath. This pleased him no end. To gain so much from so little. What he'd picked up in the last few months had given him more power than anything he'd learned over the course of the rest of his life. He was going to enjoy this, going to enjoy squeezing the dying breaths from her misshapen, flawed body. Stalking after her as she tried to shake off what had just happened, brilliant red blood flowed down her arms, running into the gaps between the cobbles as she tried to push herself off her elbows and back up to her feet. Having never seen her look so weak and pathetic, that feeling alone provoked a deeply satisfied grin, and a sense of w
ellbeing in the universe deep within him. He'd never felt this good, and he'd never won. Never beaten her. Today was different. Today he'd beaten her... in more ways than one.