by Paul Cude
"It was all very vague little one, but I'll try and recall what I can."
At this, she smiled.
"I did, as you're well aware, see Tank, swinging from that hastily erected gallows, as well as you and your band of intrepid humans. Of course, all of that has now come to pass."
Purposefully staying silent, so as not to disturb his train of thought, she wasn't sure what she hoped he would say.
"There were structures, here underground, one of which I'm pretty sure was the council building. After that, it's all a bit jumbled I'm afraid. I saw Tank in chains being led away, and what might have been the big one... you know, the one I gave the backpack to..."
"Ahhh... Hook, you mean."
"Yes, that's it... Hook," added the old shopkeeper. "It did look like him, shrouded in the shadows; that said, I suppose it just might have been Flash. Sorry I can't be any more help."
"You're sure you didn't see either Janice or myself?"
"Positive," replied Gee Tee. "That's not to say you weren't there though. There were lots of other beings being led off into the darkness, any of which could have been the two of you."
Richie rubbed the tiredness from her eyes, contemplating what the old dragon had said.
"Can I ask why it's so important, little one?" remarked Gee Tee, asking the one question Richie truly dreaded.
A very long and uncomfortable pause punctured the air between the two of them. She didn't want to say anything, but she knew she owed him more than that. In the end, she narrowed it right down to its most basic form.
"It all boils down to a decision, and almost certainly an unpopular one at that. Everything, however I look at it, seems to depend on that one choice. Almost as if the fate of all we do rests on that. I don't know what to do. It makes no sense. In fact, it seems utterly crazy. But I can't get it out of my mind. It won't leave me alone."
Blinking furiously a few times, before leaning his head to one side, the old shopkeeper gave what he'd heard careful consideration.
"Dragons in their entirety have long since lost touch with their feelings. And I'm not talking about love, hate, sadness and joy, if that's what you think. Long ago, each and every dragon learned to trust their feelings, their gut instinct. Over the centuries, that instinct has been lost, waylaid, much to the detriment of our race. If I have one piece of advice for your quandary, it would be to go with what you feel is right. I bet your hunches nearly always pay off... am I correct?"
She nodded a reply.
"Then if I were you, I would go with that. Whatever you have to do, know that you'll be supported by everyone else. It might seem at times like you're alone, but in reality that's very much not the case. We all love you, support you, respect and admire you. When the time comes, we'll all be there to follow you and back you up. That you can count on."
"Thanks... you've been a great help," she just about got out without shedding a few tears, wondering where on earth all that had come from.
Abruptly the old dragon let out a huge, rapturous chortle, startling at least half a dozen other dragons in close proximity from their slumber. That made Richie smile... one that might be her last for a very long time.
4 Ambush Amateurs
"Impregnable! Impregnable! I'll give you impregnable!" screamed the raging Manson, smashing his ornate walking stick into the human shaped naga's stomach, causing him to double over in agony. Now on the floor, the slithering reptile tried desperately to get some words out, but he'd been winded badly, and could achieve nothing comprehensible. He figured he'd have time, time to get up, time to explain, time to fight again. His understanding of the being he'd been reporting to was incomplete to say the least, something he realised a little too late, just, in fact, as the deadly barbed blade that had appeared from nowhere at the bottom of the walking stick, sliced into his chest, and was then dragged down towards his pelvis. The beast's last expression was one of complete shock and horror. Manson turned and walked away, but not before kicking the bloodied corpse in the back for good measure. All the beings gathered knew to stay quiet. All feared his temper, even his very subdued and quiet father, standing off to one side on one of the lower levels of the council building, adjacent to the exit that led to the courtyard and the recently demolished bridge that would have taken them across to the king's private residence.
"Why, oh why, does it have to be so difficult?" muttered Manson, to no one in particular, all the time pacing back and forth. The others, heads bowed, were all too scared to meet his gaze... all but one that is.
"I seem to be continually surrounded by imbeciles," he spluttered, looking for someone else to help express his anger.
"These things happen, my love," whispered Earth, soothingly.
Turning to face her, he mentally ordering the blade at the bottom of his walking stick, to retract... with the tiniest of clicks, it did just that.
"I just want it over, that's all," he uttered, all traces of anger gone from his voice.
"I know," she replied softly. "It will be, and soon. We just need to be patient for a little while longer. We have them right where we want them. They have nowhere to go, and not nearly enough supplies to hold out for any real length of time. We can afford to wait them out if necessary."
Manson glanced over his shoulder in his father's direction. Barely contained fury swirled across the old dragon's face, causing a deep down fear to come bubbling up inside him. His father had always been able to do that to him, for as long as he could remember. In some ways, he was pinning his hopes on his father getting rid of all of his anger, resentment, frustration and despair on the current king of the dragon domain, the knight that so long ago had thwarted his treacherous plans. He hoped that after Troydenn had punished, tortured and ultimately killed the dragon king, it would relieve the burden he was carrying, and would enable him to become much more rounded and less likely to take things out on him. That was his wish anyway.
Turning back to face his soon to be queen, he ran the back of his hand across her purple lined cheek, marvelling at the smooth texture of her skin. Her gaze felt like the warm sun beating down on him. Everything was right in the world when she was with him. They'd been separated for too long. From now on, they'd be together, until the end of time.
Pulling himself away from the almost hypnotic stare of his heart's desire, he barked at the lieutenants of his army that remained.
"Pummel their defences from a distance. I want flying sorties throughout the day and night, at random, unexpected times. Try every form of magic you can think of. Keep them busy, on their toes, on edge, all of the time. I want no let up. But I want our losses kept to a minimum. No huge forces, no all out attacks. Not yet anyway. We'll grind them down, wear them out. Lack of sleep, the constant threat of attack and not knowing what will happen next, will test their loyalty to the dragon they've sworn allegiance to. Make it so!"
The beings, some dragon, one or two naga, zipped off in the direction of the troops under their command, all eager to be away from under the twisted gaze of their soon to be king, some troubled at the thought of failing, given exactly what they'd just seen.
Earth's surface. New Delhi, India.
Day had just turned to dusk, although the stifling heat remained as she wove her way deeper into the throng of people, all out to spot a bargain. Meena Bazaar in the Old Delhi district was one of the busiest in all India, and at this time of day was almost guaranteed to be jam-packed full of people. Unsurprisingly, it was making her journey all the more difficult. The noise didn't help. Customers haggling, merchandise being dragged along the ground, and the squawking, barking and howling of all sorts of exotic animals made it hard for her to focus as a headache like an exploding volcano threatened to burst through her skull. Zigzagging briskly through the swarm of shoppers against the backdrop of vendors selling anything from paintings to all types of clothing, a vast array of bags to every colour imaginable rolls of fabric, she continued to hold the scarf across her face, both to conceal her identity and pr
otect her from the choking smog that had once again enveloped the city and its denizens. Ten days ago this had started, and there seemed little likelihood of it abating any time soon. What harmed the city and its residents had presented her and her kind with an opportunity, one she was eager to capitalise on. Right now, secreted in two small vials, protected by sturdy metallic pockets at the front of her belt, concealed beneath a swathe of clothing, sat a poison so powerful and indiscriminate that it had the potential to bring countries to their knees. She didn't need to do that, or indeed kill the millions that the toxin could do quite easily. Instead she needed to overwhelm. Overwhelm the population, the emergency services, create a situation that the city would struggle to contain, and so in turn spread fear and panic across the rest of the country. That would be enough to leave her deeply satisfied.
Meandering through the crowd like water through a flood plain, in the distance she spotted her exit from the market, a route even more densely packed with people than those she'd already traversed. Of course it would be busy, given that it was the most direct route to the Jama Masjid, India's largest mosque, able to seat almost twenty-five thousand people.
'A staggering achievement really,' she thought to herself. 'These humans, when they put their minds to it, can achieve almost anything. It's a shame that it has to come to such a crushing end for them. Anyhow, that's not really any of my business. All I want is for the king to be free, and for our race to be back in the chilly waters that we've been used to for all these years. The fate of these bipeds is not my concern,' she continued to tell herself. 'We resided on this planet long before them, and will still be here long after they cease to exist, something that may well be coming much sooner than they think.'
Packed in tight like a tin of sardines, she shuffled forward whenever the crowd would allow it, coarse grains of dark yellow sand brushing in and out of her toes as she did so. Between the shoulders of two men dressed in dark brown clothing, she just caught a glimpse of one of the Jama Masjid's two forty foot high minarets dominating the skyline directly in front of her, and although her near perfect memory recalled exactly where she was heading, seeing the ancient mosque offered up a small crumb of comfort, knowing that she was on the right track.
It took her ten more minutes to reach her goal, which was crazy given that it was just two hundred yards away, but the crowds really were that bad. With most of the people continuing on to the famed mosque, she slipped off left down a narrow thoroughfare, seeking out the darkness and plentiful shadows it provided. Physically concealed, she let her mind wander out in front of her, checking for anything unusual, or anyone that had no real reason to be there. It was clear, for now at least. Following the twisted path, after a few moments she reached a deserted little courtyard at the end of a cobbled road. Parked in front of her was an old dark red Citroen estate, just as she'd been assured it would be. With no time to lose, she raced around to the right rear of the car, and felt about on top of the tyre. Sure enough, her slim, pale hand found just what she was looking for... two sets of keys. Grabbing them tightly, she stood up and quickly unlocked the car. Sliding behind the wheel, she stuck one of the keys in the ignition. Fearful of something going wrong, she turned the key and, to her mild surprise, the old vehicle chugged into life first try. Relieved, she wasted no time. Jumping out, she locked the driver's door before checking the rest of the car was secure. Hastily making her way to the back of the vehicle where its exhaust was spewing out toxic clouds of diesel fumes, with one hand firmly holding her scarf in place over her face, she withdrew one of the vials from her belt with the other. Loosening the rubber stopper of the vial, she leant down and shoved the poison as far as she dared up the vehicle's exhaust pipe, knowing that its volatile mixture would ever so slowly leak out and combine with the diesel emissions from the car. Pollutants from the burning of fuels reacting with the sunlight's heat and fine particles in the atmosphere had many days ago formed the cloud of smog that hung over the city like dry ice at a disco. Unsustainable levels of traffic, high temperatures, sunshine and calm winds had led to increasing pollution levels nearer the ground, closer to where people were respiring. The population were already suffering from eye irritation, inflammation of the lungs, chest pains and most commonly, asthma attacks. Her little addition to the car's output wouldn't kill, at least not a fit and healthy human being. But it would exacerbate the side effects of the smog that were already there, making them much, much worse, creating havoc from normality, overloading the city's already overworked infrastructure.
Creeping back into the shadows, the low roar of the car fading into the distance behind her, she started to head in a south westerly direction, towards the suburbs of New Delhi, past the airport, heading for another battered old vehicle, where she would once again repeat the process with the other vial tucked safely in her belt.
5 Not A Snowball's Chance In Hell
Exiting the mantra-made shaft at speed, tucked tightly into a ball, he extended his senses all around him. The pinprick of light he'd seen had so quickly materialised into a dimly lit frozen cavern. Having looked, taken it all in and decided on a course of action in but a split second, he exerted all his will, ordering the mantra to move him as far right as it could, all the time spinning, his head tucked tightly between his knees, anticipating the looming impact that he knew, at the very least, would hurt like hell. He just had to get this right. His life, and many others, depended on it.
The camouflaged ball of fast moving energy that he was, bumped the side of one of the cavern's frosty walls, burning a hole in the specially designed suit, while at the same time scraping the skin from part of his left arm. Ignoring the brutal onslaught of fierce pain, he rushed towards the curved base of the icy floor, mentally wished himself luck, closed his eyes, erected the strongest shield he could, and waited.
The vast cavern, in which an unexplained hole had appeared not minutes before, abruptly shook violently. Jutting icicles and boulders tumbled from its ceiling, smashing inadvertently across the shiny, slick floor. A cascading echo the likes of which the cavern had never seen, ricocheted throughout, its harsh, rough notes seemingly trapped forever more.
Flash hit the curved base of the wall like a rocket. Still tucked in a ball, he shot across the slippery surface, eventually smashing into a collection of stalagmites tucked away in one darkened corner, finally coming to rest. Dizzily, he got to his feet, desperate to get his bearings, knowing time was of the essence.
Leaning over the shaft, waiting for any type of signal at all from his friend, he could sense the nervousness of the young dragons around him. It was only to be expected he supposed, given that they were here, in the harshest environment the planet had to offer, the only thing currently keeping them alive, the protective suits, the result of the youngsters' ingenuity, cunning and never ending imagination. Whether the suits would hold was pretty near the top of his worry list at the moment, not currently wishing to voice any concerns as to how long they were designed to last in these surroundings. Furthermore, he just wanted to get the naga king, and get out. This place gave him the creeps, and not just because of the cold. There was something else, something dark, mysterious and dangerous... something to be afraid of. His thoughts turned briefly to his wife, wishing dearly to see her again. But something deep inside told him he wouldn't, that he'd got himself in far too deep this time. So deep in fact, that he'd never return to the dragon domain, and the partner he so loved. Leaning over a little more, silently he willed his friend on, as the snowflakes battered his shrouded body.
On getting to his feet, he'd slid back into the wall, behind the remnants of the stalagmites that he'd just wiped out, unable to resist checking out his arm, the pain was so bad. A huge chunk had been taken out of the suit, exposing his elbow, or rather a significant bit of it that had the skin missing, bone and blood both showing. Swallowing back the bile that threatened to rise in his throat, he dipped into his well of magic and poured it out into his arm, relieved to feel the familiar h
ealing tingle of it washing over his damaged limb.
Cautiously, he peered out from his hidey hole. From where he was, there was nothing to see but a chilly white landscape. Knowing that the hole in his suit compromised his ability to blend in seamlessly, and with a nagging sense of urgency tugging away at him, carefully he trotted off, all the time hugging the icy wall of the cavern, in the hope that he would be at least partially concealed.
Out of nowhere, the mantra had gone off, waking him from the only kind of slumber available in a place like this, interrupted and infrequent. Just like 'he who must be obeyed' had said it would go off. Everything was set. Everything was ready. THEY were in for a big surprise.
From the corner of one eye, Yoyo could just see two of the camouflaged figures conversing with one another. It was hard to make them out, but if he watched the snow very carefully, he could just spot their outlines by the way the flakes, some nearly the size of tennis balls, impacted on their suits. From his reckoning, it looked as though Tina and Hillier were the two chatting, but both had now stopped, and were on their way over to him.
Taking a step back from the massive borehole in front of him, Yoyo made space for two of the most inventive young dragons of the lot, as they fought against the wind to reach him. Opening the mask of his suit just a little, he shouted as loud as he could to be heard against the roaring force of the snow storm.
"What's going on?" he enquired.
Tina pulled back her mask ever so slightly.
"I think we have a problem," she stated, with the kind of urgency Yoyo had never seen in her.
"What is it?" asked their mentor and friend, concerned.
Hillier reluctantly pulled back his mask.
"A few minutes ago, the heat tracing mantra detected something down there. It wasn't much, and it didn't last long, but there was certainly something there."
