by Paul Cude
"Not just any bit of For'son either. Supposedly his... heart!"
"Nooooo," the group voiced as one. "How is that even possible?"
"Whether from the poison, the torture or from For'son's own magic, the heart inside his recovered corpse had crystallised completely. On the king's instructions, the crafters took part of that, shaped it, and now it adorns the ring that sits on our current king's finger."
Total and utter silence enveloped them. It was nothing short of a revelation, if indeed it was true.
"I still don't understand how this helps us."
From behind his back, the dragon produced something covered in a white, cotton cloth, about the length of a man's arm, and proceeded to unwrap it as the rest of the group eagerly watched. Moments later, Hardtoignite revealed what was inside. It was a model of a dragon standing up, wings spread, teeth and talons bared. Incredibly intricate, the quality of the work was majestic, some of the best any of them had ever seen. But still the group were perplexed, something that showed across their faces. Before they had a chance to ask, Hardtoignite resumed.
"Crafting the king's ring took a number of dragons nearly ten months in all, working around the clock each and every day. It was a full time job, with no days off and all of them sharing the same accommodation. But they were the best of the best and exceptionally professional, so the hardship didn't bother them in the slightest. There were, however, times when it was only possible for one or two dragons to be working on the ring itself. So to keep themselves amused, distracted, relaxed, call it what you will, the dragons used their combined skills and took turns to create a model in what little spare time was available to them. A model of the dragon in question... For'son. It was, in their eyes, a tribute to a brave and daring dragon and a chance to practise and develop their skills. After the ring was created and presented to the king, much fuss was made over the crafters, and rightly so. Their work was of the highest order and their services were now hugely in demand. From what little I can make out, the model," he said lifting up the representation he held in his hands, "was discarded and forgotten. Sometime after, it was recovered, and although not really recognised for the part in history it represented, it has ever since been sitting in the relics and artefacts section of the Council's storage wing, two floors above where we are now standing."
Considering carefully what Hardtoignite had said, none of them had ever heard this story. Perhaps that was the idea.
"So just how does that model get us through the door?"
"You see the craftsdragons," explained Hardtoignite, "used the available material around them to pursue their... let's call it a hobby."
"Again, how does that help us?" enquired the librarian.
Holding the reproduction of For'son out in front of him, the archaeologist stated,
"Look at the eyes and tell me what you see."
As one, the entire group leaned in closer to get a look at the model dragon.
"Oh my God."
"No... It can't be. Can it?"
"That's unreal."
"It looks exactly the same colour. Is that even possible?"
"Indeed it is," added Hardtoignite, "difficult to believe, but ultimately it's true. I gather the pupils in the eyes of the dragon model were made out of the off cuts from the jewel which now sits in the king's ring."
"Which means," cut in one of the academics, "that it might be possible to fool the magic into thinking the king, and more importantly, his ring are trying to enter the council chamber."
"Exactly," stated Hardtoignite. "Shall we?"
Approaching the large silver double doors, images of newborn dragons exploring the world for the first time, as well as some just escaping from their eggs, all being overseen by a kind looking dragon face, carved into both, were ignored by the bold interlopers on their mission of evil. Holding the model of For'son up to the centre of the door, Hardtoignite closed off his mind and focused all his thoughts in casting the mantra that he hoped would gain them access to the precious artefacts within. Fuelled by optimism and having forgotten everything around him, he filled his mind with the same words the cooks used when they entered with the prepared food for the Council meetings. He knew he had to get it just right.
'Patefacio, patefacio, solvo vestri obfirmo quod permissum mihi obduco,' he thought, directing all his will towards the firmly closed doors. Eyes screwed shut, the tiniest hum in the world disappeared into the background and was immediately followed by an ordinary click. The heavy doors started to pull back, the sound of monstrous metal moving slowly growled back at them. Hardtoignite opened his eyes to the beaming smiles of the others. After back patting all around, the small group entered the chamber. Much to their surprise, and discomfort, the chamber was cold, extremely cold. Long gone were the usual fires and spit roasted meats, blackened ash the only sign they had once been there. Crusty black lava spewed out across the white and gold flecked marble pillars that adorned the room. Two of the academics marvelled at the prophecy agreement depiction on the floor as they entered, but the others just walked over it, more interested in what they came for. Ignoring the grey, granite, trident shaped table as they passed it, the giant, gold coloured abacus the size of a bus sat lonely against the far wall, beneath the tapestry made of dragon scales. In their own way, the interlopers were making a small piece of history, in a room that positively reeked of it. Ignoring everything, and with the academics having caught them up, they all stopped in the furthest corner from the entrance. Dark, colder and positively reeking of deadly magic, more so than the rest of the room, wooden bookshelves with an array of magical items were faintly illuminated by a cool, blue glow. Water dripped and splashed onto the floor from the ceiling and the shelves. Small patches of melting ice covered one or two of the items and the occasional corner of the shelves. It felt to the dragons exactly how it looked... DANGEROUS, COLD and DARK!
It was a treasure trove of rare magical items. Daggers, bows, leather armour (dragon sized), gauntlets, bracers, belts with deeply disturbing engraved buckles, a set of folded robes, a compass, pocket watches, a leather Stetson, a gnarled staff, half a dozen wands, a set of lanterns, an array of jewellery including rings, necklaces, brooches and an assortment of hat pins, as well as all alone, almost begging for some company, an 'alea' exactly the same as the one Peter inherited. Light of one sort or another shrouded most of the items. A thick, dull, all absorbing brightness exuded from some, whilst others radiated a dazzling, white halo in and around their majestic forms. The contrast was immense. Standing stock still for a moment, the small band looked on, utterly flabbergasted at what lay on the shelves before them.
"We should catalogue it all first," noted one of the academics.
"Agreed," piped up a librarian. "Dividing it up into light and dark to start with might help."
Each nodded their agreement.
From out of nowhere, one of the priests yelped. "Owwwww!!!!"
"You okay?"
"No," said the priest rubbing a spot on his neck vigorously. "Something bit me!"
"In here?" replied one of the others sceptically. "It's been sealed for goodness knows how long."
"I'm just telling you what happened," declared the priest. "It really hurts!"
"We really don't have time for this," insisted Hardtoignite. "We've already taken long enough getting in as it is. I for one want to get all of this stuff catalogued and up to Manson as quickly as possible."
On that, they could all agree.
With them splitting into two groups of four, taking dark and light relics respectively, they immediately got on with their assigned tasks. One of the academics checking the light sided objects, made straight for the artefact that had first caught his attention... the alea. With a quick flick of his wings, he bounded straight up to the high shelf that it was on, grasped it firmly in the palm of his hand and drifted back down to the floor, his landing as light as a feather. Not bad for a being of his size. Studying the object in the palm of his hand, with thoughts about its history and
magical significance running through his mind, he was startled from his reverence by a loud CRASH off to his right, as the dragon priest, the one who claimed to have been bitten, the one who had been studying a gorgeous set of light tan leather armour a little further into the corner, had abruptly collapsed on the floor. Instantly, the entire group stopped what they were doing and rushed over to him. One of the librarians knelt down towards his head while Hardtoignite listened to the unmoving dragon's chest. Others looked on in horror at what was happening.
"I can't feel a pulse," queried the one at his head.
"There's no heartbeat. Breathe damn it, breathe," fumed Hardtoignite from the priest's chest, driven now to frantically beating it.
"Uhhhh... guys!"
"NOT NOW!" screamed Hardtoignite, beating the dragon's torso furiously with both of his hands.
"YOU REALLY NEED TO SEE THIS!!!"
Hardtoignite hung his head helplessly over the chest of the dead dragon, anger and despair welling up deep inside him. Why was it going so wrong? Why, just for once, couldn't things go exactly as planned? And just what the hell could be more important than trying to save the life of one of their own? Standing up, he turned to face the others, who all, oddly, had their backs to him, staring back towards the entrance. With his patience about to snap, he shoved two of them aside and made his way to the front. It was only then that he saw what was so important. Only then did it dawn on him just how much trouble they were all in.
The fighting in the basement had taken its toll. Corpses of all shapes and sizes littered the walkways and corridors. Blood and other bodily fluids pooled together in rainbow like puddles. Limbs, tails, paws and heads lay precariously scattered about. It was a crime scene investigator's nightmare. But it had all stopped, well, apart from the rock demon, who was still very much on the rampage. Mainly, it was the ra-hoon's doing. After devouring the naga that had tried to escape, the thinned out herd had headed deeper into the containment facility, eventually coming face to face with the horde of different creatures all trying to destroy each other. Smart didn't really do the ra-hoon justice, because they were cunning as well. They could see things for what they really were, now that they'd escaped captivity. And so with one concerted telepathic blast, that quite literally stunned everything (with the exception of the rock demon) around them into submission, they began to outline, to all the species there, just how they should proceed, and how working together in this strange new world that they'd suddenly found themselves in, would benefit one and all. For most of them it made sense, for the rest, it was too scary a prospect to say no. So they didn't, and agreed to tag along, always on the lookout for an opportunity to gain an advantage.
Downright terrifying couldn't begin to describe it. How they'd got in without making a single sound was incredible. But they had, and now Hardtoignite and the rest of his followers stood facing them, wondering just what to do.
Having found their way up a plush stairwell and onto the next floor after leaving the basement proper, there were few beings about, with the exception of two solitary nagas patrolling the corridors in their human forms. In all honesty, they never really stood a chance, each overwhelmed by a considerable number of different species, each dying in a totally different way, neither able to send a warning to any of their brethren. Leading the way, the ra-hoon had arrived just in time to spot the dragon group gaining access to the council chamber, and had watched for a few minutes, before being lured by the promise of supernatural power radiating from the room, enticing them ever forward. Had they wanted to ignore it, they couldn't, the pull and seduction of the magic was just too much. Having taken in the situation, the ra-hoon gave the order. They would go in as one, quietly, without the dragons knowing. Only when they were all lined up, would they be ready to fight, and reap the magical rewards that lay somewhere in that room. Silently they moved into position.
In all of his nearly two hundred years, he'd never seen anything like it. An array of magical creatures, some of which could only come from legend, he thought. He just had to be dreaming, that was the only possibility. He just had to be. But he wasn't. An angry snarl from the lead asena snapped him away from thoughts of legends and fame, its blue mane rippling as it did so. And then it hit him. An attack force sent by the king to take back the building. If that was the case, then it was a masterstroke, that of a genius. On some level he was correct. While the king now had no control over what the magical escapees did, he was at least hopeful that their release would result in the maximum amount of chaos possible. If only he knew.
Now that the dragons knew they were there, suppressing the noise was no longer necessary. Vile looking brown lizards scuttled back and forth, their forked tongues constantly whipping in and out, accompanied by crackling green bolts of lightning that lit up the air in front of them. A squadron of dark yellow gnats weaved in and out of the hovering pixiu, spraying tiny cones of fire out in front of them, making sure to avoid injuring their flying lion allies. One of the scaled apes beat his chest, with just two arms instead of the usual four. The rest of his kind followed. As the terrifying sound thundered around the room, causing the shelves with all the magical items on to shake, nifoloa buzzed, two headed eagles squawked, snakes hissed, the scorpion men's pincers clacked together, while all the time the leaders, the ra-hoon, looked on, waiting for the dragons' next move.
Dragon pee could peel the paint off a car in but a split second. It took all of the small group's concentration not to start redecorating the council chamber. Little choice about their next move was afforded.
18 Flash In The Pan
Snow and ice hung in the air, making it all but impossible to see more than a few feet in any direction as the walls of the cavern shook from the explosion that he'd unleashed only moments earlier. Head ringing, having been thrown back into a formation of stalactites, the ex-Crimson Guard knew he had to contain the fear and pain that threatened to engulf his false form of a body. Everything depended on it. And so, as he'd done many times before, he compartmentalised everything within him, tossing it all down the darkest, bottomless chasm lying deep within his mind and stoked all the rage he possessed, knowing that now was not the time to hesitate or show even the merest hint of mercy. Now was the time to do what had to be done. Not just for his survival, but for the others in this icy hellhole, and ultimately... the planet itself.
Bounding to his feet, he bumped straight into a disoriented naga trying to get its bearings. Without hesitation, he added some magic to a punch, carefully aiming at the gills on the side of the beast's head. With a sickening 'THWUMP', his hand pierced the glistening scales of his foe, right up to his wrist, eliciting a wet gurgle and a garbled cry for help. Knowing that he had no time to celebrate taking one of the enemy out, particularly as he'd just noticed the damage done to his supposedly camouflaged suit, he reverted back to his age old battle mantra... NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS, KEEP ON THE MOVE AT ALL COSTS!
Throughout the cave, well... prison actually, debris settled, senses returned, anger presided. Above it all, the high pitched jingle of chains rattling bounced across the walls, as both long term detainees, Fredric and the naga king, desperately tried to enter the fray, with very little success.
Furious nagas rolled and wriggled in an effort to free themselves from the ice and snow into which they'd been tossed, needing to be upright to unleash the supernatural power at their disposal, but before some had a chance, invisible assailants rained down innovative, brilliant, bright magic, choking some, piercing others, crushing yet more unseen. It went some way to evening up the odds, but with each encounter the imaginative camouflage suits were damaged, revealing different members of the impromptu rescue effort, almost literally painting a target on each and every one of their backs.
Aware that now was not the time to hold back, Yoyo, using all the belief and willpower he possessed, launched a devastating concussive wave of energy at a pair of murderous looking nagas attempting to sneak up behind Hillier, who'd just garrotted one of their
kind with pioneering new magic. Had he the time, Yoyo would have gushed with pride. However, his attention was needed elsewhere.
True to his battle beliefs, Flash hadn't stopped moving, a virtual twister, only a few parts of his body visible, slashing and kicking, punching and blocking, decimating the naga fighting force almost singlehandedly. Abruptly the blur that he was found himself caught unaware by a heavy metal chain around his legs. Momentum stifled, he crashed clumsily into one of the slithering serpent-like beasts intent on doing his friends harm. Without a thought, vicious chain lightning rocketed from his fingertips, deep into the eye sockets of his foe, instantly boiling the naga's eyeballs, effectively rendering him out of the fight. Before he had a chance to ascertain the threat that had brought him to a halt, roaring pain erupted across the base of his back, forcing him down to his knees, causing his head to spin. Grinning inanely, the jailer, Joshim, looked on, the massive barbed metal chain he'd just raked across Flash's back hanging limply by his side.
Everything, that's how much he gave. In all the decades he'd been incarcerated, he'd never wanted to break free quite as much as he did now, wanting to join in, fight, give his life for those who had clearly come to rescue him. But it was all in vain, as the chains didn't budge, not even an inch, still disappearing off into the wall of ice that effectively rendered him useless, when his skills were much needed.
Almost alien in comparison to Fredric's mind, the naga king's thoughts were much the same as those of his caged compatriot... wanting out, wanting to join in, wanting revenge. But he too couldn't move, the taut chain restraining most of his magic, only able to look on in horror at the scene unfolding before him.
Water dripped and splashed throughout the cavern as wayward magic danced off the walls, boiling molecules, breaking rock, decimating ice, causing needle sharp stalactites to come rocketing down from their age old formations on the ceiling, spearing one or two of the murderous nagas. Yoyo and his band of fearless, inventive dragons fought valiantly against overwhelming odds, parts of their bodies visible through the simmering steam that threatened to envelop everything around them, their protective camouflage outfits torn apart amongst the chaos.
