Bentwhistle the Dragon Box

by Paul Cude

  "Smashing!" declared Steel, much to the amusement of the others in his group.

  "Don't start all of that or his eyes will 'glaze' over," added 'Ginger'.

  Dom, still gazing down at the ground, just shook his head.

  "He must have been 'shattered' after such a long night," continued Steel.

  "Quite possibly," chipped in 'Ginger' once more. "I still wonder though if he might not have been 'framed'."

  They all smiled at that, even the increasingly embarrassed DomCon.

  "So what now?" asked Steel, loosening his stance, but not entirely lowering his guard.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well..." continued the laminium ball captain, "clearly it's a challenge staying under the radar of whatever's going on. And although not ideal, I would suggest that teaming up is the way to go. There's no doubt we'd be stronger together than on our own." Both 'Ginger' and DomCon paused for thought, taking in the offer.

  "You don't mind if we have a couple of moments to talk it over, do you?" asked 'Ginger'.

  "Be my guest," ventured Steel.

  Both dragons, looking quite a sight, ambled over to a pile of rubble, 'Ginger', a hulking monster of a formidable opponent despite his agreeable demeanour, dwarfing his pent up partner, who resembled the typical pocket rocket, looking as though his fuse had already been lit.

  Much sooner than Steel expected, the two reached an agreement and turned to face the famed laminium ball player and his entourage.

  "We're in... if you'll have us. What's the plan?"

  For a split second he considered not telling them, but dismissed it out of hand almost immediately. Everyone else knew... why shouldn't they?

  Explaining that they had, as a group, all talked it through, deliberating long into the night, opinions had been split between heading towards Buckingham and the council building, fearing what was happening there and for the king's safety, or sneaking off to Fleet Street because if there was anyone that would know what was going on in the rest of the world they would be there, at the centre of the telepathic papers. Also, if this was purely a localised event, it might be possible to use the telepathic facilities to alert the rest of the world to what was going on and send a shout out for help. And so it had been narrowed down to those two options, with the eclectic group being pretty much split down the middle. In the end it came down to their leader... Steel! After careful consideration, he had opted for the Fleet Street option and so as quickly as possible he explained why to both of his team's new recruits.

  Both nodding in agreement all the way through, 'Ginger' and DomCon certainly couldn't fault the brave laminium ball captain's logic. A rallying call to arms across the rest of the dragon domain should certainly clear the mess up quickly and efficiently, unless of course this was happening planet wide, something that was pretty much unthinkable.

  With the extended group about to set off once more, 'Ginger' thought a proper introduction appropriate.

  "My name's Jar Man," he stated, smiling.

  "Most probably call you 'Ginger' though, don't they?" put in Steel.

  "Strawberry Blonde!"

  "Sorry!"

  "I'm not ginger... I'm strawberry blonde."

  "I heard... I'm just sorry."

  "Oh... very good... not only a laminium ball superstar, but a comedian as well."

  "Just kidding... it's great to meet you Jar Man, you too DomCon. Now you're part of my team, and with that, you have big boots to fill. On the plus side, there's nothing that I wouldn't do for you. We're all in this together. Those cockwombles that have done this to our domain have no idea what they've let themselves in for. Let the games commence."

  21 Deep ****

  Shrouded in oily black shadows, she weaved in and out of the industrial pipes that made up the sewage reclamation plant. Logic told her that her enemies wouldn't be anywhere near a place like this. It had no real strategic value as a target... all it did was process the industrial waste for the whole of London. But these were strange and uneasy times. She knew better than to take anything for granted. Slipping silently into a dark recess, she stopped to catch her breath, the comforting reassurance of the laminium dagger's hilt nestling against the small of her back. Of all the places in the dragon domain, it just had to be here! But Flash's instructions had been quite clear when he'd whispered them in her ear, just before taking his leave, back in Salisbridge, what seemed like a very long time ago. Running her hands through her dark, curly locks, the superstar lacrosse player wiped away the sweat from her forehead with the backs of them. It had been tough going to get this far. Marauding gangs of dragons, nagas, and a mixture of the two were everywhere. Skirting around, above and below, had cost her valuable time. But in reality she'd had little choice. Taking them on alone would have been suicidal, despite having the advantage of the all powerful dagger. So, using her magic to the best of her ability to help keep her concealed, she'd trudged on, taking her time with every footstep, quieter than a spider sprinting across a carpet. Truth be told, it had drained her as much mentally as it had physically. But now she was here... here where, she'd been led to believe, the very start of the secret entrance began. All she had to do now was find it. And of course avoid falling into the humungous silos of dragon poo that were spread out all around her.

  Craning her neck as far back as it would go she instructed the magic inside her to find her night vision. Suddenly the murky gloom she'd been looking at, high above her, jumped out, casting everything in an outstanding overall shade of blue. Jutting out from the side of a craggy rock face, a rusty looking yellow balcony, housing a myriad of conduits, ducts and pipelines, swam into view. Excitement welled up inside her on seeing the number 34 printed on the back of the control panel sitting off to one side. This was her destination. All she had to do now was get up to it. During the course of normal operations, this would not have been a problem for anyone working here. Of course, how could it have been... all they had to do was flap their wings, and... BOOM! There they were. But not so for her... not here, not now. Even if she'd been able to transmute back into her natural form, something deep inside her screamed that she shouldn't. Maybe it was a trap, perhaps the place was being watched? Who knew? All that she did know was that she had to get up there and quickly. Not to mention quietly, and unseen.

  Exiting her hidey hole before crawling nearly two hundred yards on her belly across the oil splashed floor beneath a series of interconnecting pipes that fed either directly in, or directly out of the huge excrement containers, by the time she reached the starting point of her journey upwards, she was absolutely shattered, not to mention nursing rather sore knees and elbows. Without a second thought, she bounded up the first series of pipes, using the kinks and twists in the smaller ones as foot and hand holds, gaining as much as fifty feet or so in height, but then finding herself only about a quarter of the way up the ever imposing giant vat of poo off to her right.

  Crouching down on top, the concealed lacrosse player tried to map out the next part of her precarious route in the dark, all the time extending out her senses as much as she dared, on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary. While at first glance it appeared that there were numerous ways to reach the balcony that was her destination using the array of pipes to climb up, by tracking each one through, her senses seemed to almost always hit a snag. After a matter of moments it became obvious to her that there was actually only one way, a route that would consist of using the only, rather fragile looking pipe that extended right out above the waste silo housing most of the dragon excrement. Perhaps it had been designed with that in mind, putting off any would be interlopers, or anyone whose curiosity had got the better of them. Anyhow, at least now, she knew what she had to do. Steeling herself, and focusing all her thoughts on getting to that tucked away little balcony, she started off, determined to carry on in much the same way as she had been for some time now: putting one foot in front of the other, taking her time, concentrating on getting it right and remaining hidden. It
was more important than ever now.

  A little over an hour later she found herself at eye level with her destination, some fifty or so yards from the balcony's faded yellow metal rails. One problem alone presented itself, one last obstacle to overcome: a rather flimsy looking pipe, which was rusted in places and was about the diameter of one of her delicate little feet. And of course it cut directly across the open topped silo of dragon waste, the surface of which bubbled away some eighty feet below her. Part of her wanted to sprint for all she was worth, covering the distanced in but a moment or two. But now was not the time. Patience was the key, and so ignoring the eye watering fumes that almost made her gag, she started across, cloaked in darkness, one foot in front of the other, sweat caking her neck and meandering down her back. A few paces in, she knew there was now no turning back. As the hideous stench of tens of thousands of dragons wafted over her, the heat clawing at her feet and shins, carefully she placed one foot in front of the other, having long since reined in her magical abilities. This was all about her physicality, something she never had any doubts about, being the athlete that she was. And so it was that with only one minor hiccup (a very dubious piece of the pipe, almost in the middle creaking like a worn out rocking chair) she made it across to the balcony before sliding gracefully through the bars, relieved to be supported by something much more substantial. Pulling in a deep breath, she turned around, taking in her route before looking down at the drop and exactly what it would have entailed.

  'I didn't think we could be in anymore poo given the current situation,' she thought, 'but I so very nearly was. When this is all over, I'm going to have the biggest and longest bath in the world.'

  Mind back on the task at hand, she turned around towards the control panel and the maze of different sized pipes that ran alongside and above it. Checking each one, it took her a while and some yoga-like twisting of her body to find what she was looking for. Exactly as Flash had described, there was a gap. But it was infinitesimally small. So small in fact, she had a hard time believing that even her lithe little body would fit through it, let alone that of either Flash or the king. But she hadn't come all this way for nothing, and so with nightmarish thoughts of what her friends were currently going through plaguing almost every waking moment, she ducked down on her back and, head first, began pushing herself through the darkness by her toes, managing to scoot along only a metre at a time. It was painfully slow going, as well as blindingly uncomfortable. But after thirty or so metres, the claustrophobic gap opened up into more of a duct, giving her almost enough room to crawl. Stopping briefly to catch her breath, instinctively her hand brushed against the hilt of the dagger, making sure it was still there. Of course it was (she could feel the cold metal nestled against her back) but it felt reassuring just to touch it. Continuing on, the duct remained the same size, providing just enough room to crawl, but not enough to sit up or get even remotely comfortable. Rounding a sharp bend, a giant notice on her right hand side stood out. It read, "Section 312b." Odd that she hadn't seen any other notices, but she figured this one had a purpose, just as the ex-Crimson Guard had explained. Pulling herself along until she was level with the sign, rolling over, she turned to face the opposite wall... no mean feat given her confinement. Running her fingers along the smooth metal, she felt some small imperfections progressing vertically off to one side. Forcing the edge of her thumbnail into the biggest one, she gently tried to lever the metal. Surprisingly, a small panel about the size of a human hand popped off, revealing a dark recess. Reaching in, all she could feel was fabric. Whilst Flash had told her about the secret entrance and the concealed cubby hole, he hadn't disclosed what was in it, only that she might find it incredibly useful. Grabbing a handful, carefully she began pulling out what turned out to be a black as night cloak. In that instant all her hopes were dashed. She was wearing a cloak... alright, not quite as dark as the hidden one. But she'd hoped for something much more, something that would give her an edge in what was to come. To say that she was disappointed didn't really do the situation justice. Lying on her side, spreading the cloak out as much as the space would allow, she wondered why Flash had made such a fuss. It was so unlike him... at least she thought so; the gaps in her memory, whilst fading slightly, were still very much there. About to disregard the newly found garment, it was then that she felt it, or rather not. As she'd pulled the fabric across her arm, something very strange happened. A coarse, cold numbness passed across her, only it wasn't so much physical... more in her mind.

  'Odd,' was all that she could think. Slipping off the dark brown cloak currently shrouding her, she clumsily managed to slip on this new black as night one. Pulling the hood up and wrapping the front right across her body, suddenly she understood exactly what it was, and just why her friend thought it so important.

  'It's imbued with laminium! It can stop anyone from sensing me.' Memories from her early days in the nursery ring flooded back, particularly one class discussion which had centred on magical objects rumoured to be at large. One such rumour focused on a cloak very much like the one she'd just discovered. It was believed to have existed centuries earlier, but had been mislaid during the course of a dragon battle. If what it could do was true, and she was quite sure it was, then it might let her get unbelievably close to the action without anyone knowing she was there. Silently she thanked the ex-Crimson Guard, wishing him well in whatever endeavour he currently found himself caught up in.

  22 What Would Admiral Ackbar Say?

  Ironically, not seven miles away, Tank and his merry band of renegade dragons were experiencing almost exactly the same smell as the one Richie had so recently discovered, whilst trudging through a fetid river of waste deep beneath the Buckingham area of London. Janice and Hook were appalled at the almost motorway sized sewer that they found themselves on the edge of, deep beneath the underground dragon city. It was much too dangerous to do anything other than stick to the perimeter, as they'd been told the waste in the middle could be anything up to thirty feet deep. Scary enough you'd think, but the smell... oh the smell! Janice had nearly passed out on climbing down here. It was all she could do not to be sick. One of the other dragons had cast... now what was it called? Oh that's right... a mantra, on all her clothes, making them smell like a fresh summer's meadow. It had helped, that's for sure. Hook though, being the tough rugby player that he was, just sucked it up (not literally) and carried on regardless, wading through God knows what (well, he knew), mind focused on his backpack and how best to use it in the forthcoming confrontation.

  Tank was doing his best to lead. It wasn't easy, and to say he had his doubts was nothing short of understating everything that currently swam around his head. It hadn't been his idea to come down here, but once suggested, it did seem like the obvious solution to the problem of how to get within range without being spotted. And so while he plodded through the dragon excrement and goodness knows what else, his mind drifted off towards his friends, near and far, wondering exactly how they were doing, and if he'd ever see them again.

  Whispered words echoed in the darkness over the bubbling, steaming river of slurry. Steadily the line of beings drew to a halt, the dragon in front of Tank turning around to face him.

  "It appears we've reached the nearest dragonhole cover. What do you want to do?"

  Signalling for those behind him, Janice and Hook included, to remain where they were, Tank waded out further into the ever-moving conveyor of waste, skirting past those dragons further down the line until he reached those at the front, crouching down below a huge circular dragonhole cover the size of a car. Ancient words adorned the circumference, most unreadable and caked in filth.

  "As far as I can tell, this is the nearest cover to the council building from this particular sewer. There are others, but I would think there's a much greater chance of being discovered if we were to try and get much closer. This one comes out about a block away from the square that sits directly outside the council building, and is located in a secluded alley
that runs along the back of a line of shops. I can think of no better place for us to exit."

  Tank nodded his approval. Dymo had done an excellent job in getting them here, he knew. Of all the dragons to have on his side, an ex-sewer worker had seemed like something of a mismatch, but he'd proved his usefulness ten times over in what he'd done. Tank was grateful for his counsel, but now it was time to listen to the fighters on the team, the ex-King's Guards, all of whom were now standing with him below the gigantic dragonhole.

  "What do you think?" asked Tank of the group.

  "From what we know, it does seem like a good place to get topside. And if things take a turn for the worse, we should be able to retreat back down here and lose ourselves in the sewer system."

  'What a delightful prospect,' thought Tank.

  "Should we all go up above?" he asked.

  "I don't see why not," piped up another of the former guards. "If the plan is to gain access to the council building, then there doesn't seem much point in either splitting up or only taking a small contingent with us. I'd guess it's all or nothing."

  Tank's thoughts exactly.

  So with seemingly little choice, the young rugby playing dragon ordered them to take a look and do their best to make sure they weren't walking straight into an ambush. Tentatively, two of them lifted up the dragonhole cover, while two more assessed the situation. It seemed to take forever, with Tank's nerves becoming more and more frayed. Eventually they gave the all clear and without a sound, two of them darted out into the scorched ruins of the capital to see if there was any way forward.