Bentwhistle the Dragon Box

by Paul Cude

  Knees almost stuck to the ice, Flash glanced up at the smug jailer, ignoring the disorder and confusion from the battle raging all around him. Deep within, he knew it was a risk to focus solely on one opponent at a time like this, but anger flooded through him at what had occurred here, and now he decided it was time to finish things once and for all. Mustering his magic instantly, a wave of superheated air shot out from his right hand, aimed directly at the wicked jailer. Enhanced with a trickle of mana, he bounded up, the material from the suit around his knees ripping, staying firmly glued to the frosty floor, as he followed his attack. Air rippled and sparked in a familiar shape... that of a giant rugby ball, encasing the psychotic jailer. Briefly, Flash thought of Tank, wondering what hell he was encountering on the other side of the planet, but only for a microsecond, if that. Launching himself at the wicked Joshim, who'd by now harmlessly deflected away his magic, which was meant as more of a distraction than anything else, Flash caught him around the midriff and wrestled him to the ground, as the glinting metal chain swung around in his direction. Letting fly a powerful uppercut to the filthy jailer's chin, Flash failed to notice as the cold metal of the chain snaked around his neck. By the time he did, it was almost too late. Rolling off to one side, both hands gripping either end of his improvised weapon, Joshim's muscles bulged as he pulled the chain taut, strangling his surprised opponent. Pain from the snow and ice burning his exposed knees prevented him from seeking the clarity that he needed, and so instead he slipped both his hands beneath the chain currently choking him, while at the same time he kicked back, giving everything he had, for all the good it did him.

  Fredric's glistening muscles strained with exertion, enhanced with what little magic he had available. Still the chains wouldn't give as he looked on helplessly as the jailer, not five yards from where he stood, appeared to gain the upper hand in his battle with the dragon who'd come to free them. Desperately, he racked his brain for anything that could be of use, anything that could help that dragon. But for the life of him, nothing came to mind. If they could come just a little closer, then maybe he could help. Just one strike, that's all he wanted. That would be enough, he knew, to end the pitiful existence of that sorry jailer. Ready and waiting, he willed the beleaguered dragon into his striking range, but by the looks of things time was about to run out.

  Things had gone from bad to worse. Flash now found himself face down on the ice, choked by the chain, his hands able to do little to alleviate the pressure around his neck, the jailer's knee digging painfully into his spine. Inside his mind, he felt as though things were nearly at an end, and wished for nothing more than to experience his true form one last time. From nowhere, that little spark of fight, the one that had saved him on so many occasions, burst into life, urging him not to give up, to scrap, to give everything he had left. So that's what he did.

  With a sickening chuckle that reverberated around the cavern, amongst the still raging battle, Joshim took great delight in squeezing the life out of what appeared to be the group's leader. Rolling waves of pleasure inundated him at the thought of yet another life taken, and knowing just how pleased his master would be with his work. Mere seconds away now, he was fully aroused by his deplorable deed. Nothing sated his desire like taking a life.

  Blue in the face from lack of oxygen and the cold of the ice, with just a little push deep within his mind, he let it go. Or more likely, just removed the restraints. The restraints surrounding his magic that is. Milliseconds later, it burst forth, engulfing both of them in a raging torrent of pent up energy and furious power, whisking up ice, rock and some of the other combatants in its wake.

  Putting the final touch to dispatching yet another murderous naga, Yoyo turned to see Flash struggling on the floor, about as far away as it was possible to be, a ragged, emaciated being straddled over him, throttling the hell out of him. Taking a step forward, about to rush over and aid his friend, from out of nowhere a massive invisible explosion of energy tore away at everything, knocking the healer back on his ass, straight into one of the alien looking icy formations that made up some of the walls.

  Clumsily, Flash landed head first on the ice, almost within reach of Fredric, starved of oxygen, totally out for the count, at least one of his legs broken. Joshim, meanwhile, had been drilled into a solid rock wall littered with glowing fungus and was just now trying to shake off what looked like a severe concussion, noting the naga corpses scattered around him that had fared far worse from the dragon leader's misdirection. Sparing a fleeting look for the metal chain, almost instantly he disregarded it, instead pulling out what looked like a needle sharp screwdriver the length of a man's arm, previously fashioned and used to torture Bag O' Bones. Ears ringing, head spinning, he staggered towards the leader's prone body, determined to end it and quell his blood lust.

  For all he was worth, Fredric screamed at the top of his voice for the dragon to get up, get up and face his foe, the disorientated jailer that even now was heading his way. With no luck, he began kicking bits of ice towards the unconscious dragon's face, hoping in vain that might rouse him. But he just lay there, unable or unwilling to get up.

  Incapable of making any sense of the fuzziness inside his mind, he tried desperately to remember where he was and what had happened, but it all seemed just out of reach. All he knew was that he was cold, much colder than he'd ever been in his entire life, and that his magic was gone. In a dreamy haze, he wished for the sun to beat down on his scaled wings and warm him up, as it had done many times before.

  Reaching the motionless body of the attack force's leader, Joshim took great pleasure in Fredric's anger at what he was about to do. So much so that he thought a little amuse bouche was in order before he feasted on the main course. With little concern about what was going on around him, he charged at Fredric who he knew only as the dragon that would reveal nothing. Not for the first time, he found the well honed and physically imposing dragon up for the fight, but without the magic that was his birthright, he never really stood a chance. Imbued with power, the sick jailer kicked down hard, straight through his knee cap, a deafening 'CRUNCH' his richly deserved reward. Not stopping there, he rained down a series of brutal punches into his prisoner's face, splintering his cheek and breaking his nose. About to get lost in his blood lust, it was then that he remembered the reason he'd come over here and the pain he still felt from being tossed into the cavern wall. Throwing one last punch into Fredric, he returned to his feet and picked up the menacing looking screwdriver that he'd disregarded during his charge.

  Flash, meanwhile, had all but come round, albeit still mightily confused, but had one last goal in mind before he gave up for good, and could see it only a couple of metres away. So as Joshim continued his assault on Fredric, Flash pulled himself across the ice, his broken leg sending brilliant spikes of pain up his back, tears instantly freezing on his cheeks. Just as the jailer had finished his attack and had bent down to retrieve something from the ice, Flash reached his goal and with what was left of his willpower, searched his memory for the words he needed.

  Back in Salisbridge, before he'd boarded his ride to the surface, before he'd put on the boots and travelled halfway across the world, his friend, Tank, had told him about the chains... what they did, not how to break them of course... they were unbreakable. Apparently though, they could be changed... changed to something that would almost certainly benefit those on his side, those fighting to be free. And so reaching out with one hand, watching as the jailer approached wielding some kind of terrifying weapon, Flash gripped Fredric's tethered chain, and with what little belief and willpower he had left, whispered the words.

  Disorientated, but still in one piece, Yoyo once again prepared to enter the fray, taking a moment to decide what to do. It was then that he noticed it... the jailer advancing on Flash, waving about something sharp and deadly. Bringing forth the most powerful magic he knew, he let rip with brilliant purple shards of energy, hoping against hope to strike the jailer down, but not reall
y believing such a thing was possible from so far away.

  Amused at his opponent making a grab for one of the unbreakable chains, Joshim, in his heightened state, was almost in total frenzy now. There could be no denying him this, nothing was going to stand in his way. The life was his to take. And with no ceremony, no fuss, just a roar that was pure, unadulterated pleasure, he thrust his rust ridden, achingly sharp screwdriver straight through Flash's heart.

  Tense couldn't do justice to how Hardtoignite and his comrades were feeling right at this very moment, facing off against all the creatures from the capture and containment level. Throughout the cold, dark and foreboding council chamber, crusty black lava adorning most of the marble pillars, an undercurrent of magic was almost tangible. At the back, by the door, the orchestrators, the ra-hoon, waited, letting their new subjects take the lead. Formidable as they might be, their enemy stood little real chance against the combined fighting force of the creatures here. Schemes, plans and plots whirled throughout the intelligent creatures' minds, barely able to contain their excitement about what was to begin, eager to see if their predictions would come to pass.

  Although generally quite self absorbed, it hadn't taken long for Hardtoignite to realise there really was no other way out than to fight. With that in mind, he'd briefed the others telepathically on what he thought was their best chance of success. It relied wholly on surprise, with them all throwing everything they had into a major area of effect attack at exactly the same time, targeting the entire force in front of them. Inside their telepathic connections, a timer was counting down, and currently stood on seven.

  Unfortunately for them, the asenas could smell the magic they'd concocted for their private chat, and took that as a sign to attack. And so they did, their brilliant blue manes waving majestically as they took off at full pelt towards Manson's caught-off-guard force of priests, academics and librarians, who were standing still, nervously waiting for the timer to reach its conclusion.

  Hardtoignite reacted first, unleashing his magic on the count of four, before his comrades had even thought to act. Striking dead centre, that first devastating attack killed one or two of the impossibly rare magical creatures on impact, as well as destroying a huge chunk of the massive trident shaped table, but forced the rest to scatter randomly throughout the room, negating Hardtoignite's plan of hitting them all at once. As things went to hell, magic exploded, energy rebounded, creatures roared, cried out and went berserk, savagely assailing their opponents, killing them all in the most brutal of fashions... scaled apes feasting on intestines, pixiu scrapping over discarded limbs, wicked brown lizards lapping up bodily fluids, with the nifoloa plunging their single giant tooth into anything that remotely resembled food. All the time the ra-hoon looked on from the doorway, taking a keen interest in just how long it would take their task force to destroy these so called superior beings. Not long as it turned out. Not long at all.

  In the midst of the battle deep beneath the Antarctic, pure unadulterated ecstasy rolled through every atom of his body as the menacing screwdriver slid through the leader's heart, eliciting a laugh that was so vile, so sickening, that even the devil himself would shy away from it. Given everything going on around him, it would have come as a surprise to find that the most magical thing going on right at that very moment, not just in that cavern but across the entire planet, was only an arm's length away.

  He died. The jagged metal length of the screwdriver had pierced his heart. There could have been no other outcome. But fate, if that's what it was, had other ideas. Microseconds before he'd been killed, he finished mouthing the words... Tank's words, the mantra that he'd recounted, the one that would turn the unbreakable chains restraining the prisoners into laminium. Instantly the magic had taken effect, and as the weaponised screwdriver had plunged deep into Flash's false form of a body, something wholly supernatural had happened in his immediate vicinity. If time had slowed right down, it would have gone something like this.

  As the tip of the screwdriver entered Flash's flesh, he finished reciting the mantra. Immediately and with little fuss or indication, the metal in the unbreakable chains that had spent decades restraining Fredric, transformed into pure laminium. In less than a heartbeat, very much like the metal, Fredric was reborn. Unimaginable, that's how it felt. Like a harsh winter's day suddenly turning into the height of summer... darkness into light... a strong spirit crushing hopelessness out of sight. In less than a hundredth of a second, Peter's grandfather totally repaired his destroyed kneecap, broken nose and splintered cheek, flooding them with just a fraction of the absurd amount of power he found himself possessed of. Flushed with magic that had been missing from his life and body for so long, his mind reached out into his surroundings, exploring, searching, looking to see how he could best be of use. In that instant, he developed a very real and personal connection with Flash, whose skin, like Fredric's, brushed firmly against the metal of the chains. There and then, they were one. Flash, Fredric, the chains... there was no telling them apart. For all intents and purposes, they were one entity. And so as the screwdriver slid deep into Flash's heart, extinguishing his long and eventful life, the part of the entity that was Fredric called on the almost limitless supply of power at his disposal and reversed what had just happened, acting much as a god would. A billionth of a second after Flash had died, the screwdriver's barbed and sharpened shaft disintegrated, leaving just the worn wooden handle in Joshim's grip. Infused with magic, the damage to Flash's heart was undone, along with the deadly wound. As the magic flowed across both beings, and the metal linking them, the ethereal power, almost of its own accord, found something else, something unusual, something incredibly wrong, all the way down at the subatomic level. Instinctively and without any guidance from either of the beings, it righted a wrong in the blink of an eye, returning that which once was, and should always have been. Satisfied at its work, and having all but topped up both beings, the magic retreated back into the chains, stored and waiting, ready to be called upon at a moment's notice.

  Dumbfounded and momentarily confused, the expression on Joshim's face was priceless, as he stood there, wondering not only where the rest of the screwdriver had gone, but how the hell the leader, strewn out in front of him, had just opened his eyes wide, a tantalising smile spread across his face.

  With the chaos of the battle still raging all around them, their own private war broke out there and then, the vile little jailer roaring with fury, his temper boiling out of control. Instantly he leapt at Flash, diving full force, his chipped yellow teeth bared in a snarl, the flimsy looking rags adorning his body flailing out behind him. A new found awareness having inundated every atom of his being, Flash found himself vaguely amused by what he knew now to be a rather pitiful attempt at an attack. Ready, willing and more than a little able, he flooded himself with as much power as he dared, and readied himself to take down the depraved little beast. From out of nowhere, a high pitched whine sliced through the cold, frosty air, only inches above Flash's face. Common sense told the ex-Crimson Guard that he should remain flat on the ground and so he did, grateful to let the huge chunk of laminium chain bypass him. The jailer, on the other hand, was not nearly so lucky. Having ripped the chain fully from the wall of ice that had so long contained it and him, Fredric had whipped it around using all his newfound magical power, catching Joshim full in the face, mid-dive. Metal carving through bone and flesh had never felt so satisfying, as the unedifying form of the distressed jail keeper ploughed into the base of a nearby wall. Sure he could leave Fredric to the sweet revenge he knew he must have craved, Flash leapt to his feet and, powered by magic, rejoined the fight, determined to assist Yoyo's ragtag band of dragons in ridding themselves of the rest of the fighting force.

  Striding barefoot across the frozen floor of the cavern, chest puffed out, magic oozing from every pore of his glistening body, Peter's grandfather approached the broken form of the most wicked being he'd ever encountered. Part of him wanted to exact revenge, ma
ke him pay for the evil deeds he'd carried out over the course of decades. It was more than part of him... most of him in fact. But that tiny part of reason which had long since been responsible for keeping him sane throughout his captivity, roared at him to get it over with, if for no other reason than to help the others and get a better understanding of the much bigger picture. And so without further ado, Fredric called forth the might of all of his supernatural power and with a fury built up over decades, unleashed a devastating magical attack that no being on the planet would have been able to defend against. Air atoms imploded, fire and electricity forked out of Fredric, crossing the gap between the two enemies in the blink of an eye, incinerating every last molecule of the depraved jailer, leaving only a steaming, charred mess scorched into the ice. Briefly soaking up the wave of satisfaction that rolled across him, it was then that his professionalism and training kicked in, and the former founder of the Crimson Guards returned, the outcome of the underground battle now totally and utterly assured.

  Earth's surface. Primm, United States of America.

  Having just finished brushing his teeth for what seemed like the hundredth time, he sucked in a breath mint, hoping against hope that it might just brighten up his senses and get rid of the stale, musty cigarette odour that permeated the whole of the room he'd paid handsomely for. Buffalo Bill's hotel and Casino! Come to Primm, see the sights, stay in the lap of luxury. What a crock! Any cheap, roadside motel would have been cleaner, and CHEAPER! Still, he did at least blend in. There was a conference of some sort. He wasn't sure who was running it or what it was for, but the attendees were nearly all single businessmen. And so the hotel was full to the brim with them, ideal for him and cementing his cover almost perfectly.