by Paul Cude
Emergency lights barely flickered through the thick, choking dust. Screams from those still alive were muted at best, mumbled and incoherent at worst. Those that could move had nowhere to go because they were all trapped inside a metal skeleton cage, unable to get out because the wreckage was so badly damaged. Survivors turned to their phones for illumination, and a chance to get help, and despite the damage they sat amongst, thankfully there was still Wi-Fi, which some used to get a message out. With the emergency services on their way, all they could do was close their eyes in an effort to try and forget the misery and death that they sat amidst.
Being so far from both stations, exactly as planned, the police, fire brigade and paramedics had THE most difficult time in getting to the derailed tube train, wasting valuable resources through no fault of their own, allowing injuries to get worse, more people to go into shock, and with some of those that could have been saved, instead dying through lack of quick, coordinated emergency response.
As it turned out, it would be one of the most deadly train crashes in the whole of the United Kingdom, with answers for what had happened few and far between. Most importantly though, it started to spread fear and panic throughout the general population, something that from the very off, it had been designed to do, so in that sense, it became regarded as something of a success.
29 A Bridge Too Far
Tougher than tough, a warrior with few equals on the battlefield, all of this counted for nothing as her fighting spirit crumbled into despair, as the magical shield that had surrounded them hissed into oblivion. Amelia Battlehard watched stoically as the king surrendered, taking in what she knew to be her last moments on this planet. She had no problem laying her life down for her monarch, because that was indeed part of her job. But like this... it seemed madness. Fighting, clawing, scratching the eyes out of her enemy until she bled out and her last breath left the dying husk of her body, that was how she'd thought it would end. But to concede to these savages was nothing short of insanity. Looking on, she hoped that the king had a plan, ninety-nine point nine, nine percent sure that he didn't. Deep within, she prayed for the dragons under her command. They didn't deserve this. They deserved to die with dignity and at least have the opportunity to take a few of their enemies with them.
With the shield lowered, there was nothing to stop another magical attack; he knew, however, that it just wouldn't come. Not that they wouldn't want to of course. No! They wanted him alive. They wanted him to suffer. And no doubt he would, over and over again. Almost broken to his very core and with little hope left inside him, he concentrated on the ring, and commanded it to rebuild the bridge that they'd blown into smithereens only a short time ago. With only the intake of breath from those dragons around him for company, strangely there was nothing from the exotic piece of jewellery. Not a peep. Once again he gave the order. Once again, it was, oddly, ignored.
Energy and magic sapped by the binders that held him in place, blood dribbling around the base of his neck and onto his chest, for the first time in an age he felt totally hapless and lost. Allowing himself to be captured and now used, without putting up even a hint of a fight had now cost the king and more importantly, the kingdom, any chance it had to rally against the deceitful acts that had been perpetrated against it. Alright, he'd been taken by surprise, and once confined by the power draining binders he'd had no chance to do anything, but he was pretty sure that others would have found an approach. There was no way in hell that Tank would have stood for all of this. Without a doubt, he would have found a way to escape and fight back. Gee Tee was another. Some fancy spell or other would have set him free, with more of his unusual, ancient magic no doubt inflicting serious casualties on the psychopaths that were behind all this.
Watching the king from a distance, head spinning, the breath of Manson's evil queen washing over his left ear, Peter's thoughts turned to his friends: Tank, Richie, Flash, Gee Tee, Yoyo... were they even all still alive? He didn't doubt for a minute that Richie was blissfully ignorant of her surroundings on the planet's surface, just like his love... Janice. Part of him felt sorry for Richie, not able to remember her true heritage. The rest of him envied her for not knowing the double-dealing hell that was now playing out, here, far underground. The others though, they had to at least be in a world of trouble. If Manson had gotten this far, then clearly he had plans for the rest of the world. Nagas would almost certainly have been the order of the day. Fighting back the tears, he tried desperately not to think of them as dead. But given the situation he found himself in, that was the only logical conclusion he could reach. Figuring the rest of his life could now be measured in minutes, rather than hours or days, he vowed there and then that he would look for that one opportunity to make somebody on the other side pay... with their life.
With enough to worry about already, the king had no idea why on earth the ring was failing to comply with his intent. Pushing everything else aside, he used the full force of his will to once again echo his command. The silence in his mind was brutally shattered as the ring screamed throughout his very being, shocking him to his core. Never in all his years had such a thing happened, and it took everything he had left not to drop to his knees. Lost in a melee of psychic screams, the monarch did everything he could to try and understand what the ring was trying to tell him. Almost instantly it became clear that it was some kind of complaint, rebellion against his chosen course of action, laid out in the most vigorous of fashions. Using what little energy he had left, he tried to lay it all out in front of the ring, explain the rationale behind his thinking, in the hope that it could be brought onside. But it wasn't to be, with the fabulously flamboyant band steadfastly refusing to do his bidding. Without warning, the enigmatic piece of jewellery became silent and inert.
Dropping his head into both hands and letting out an almighty sigh, the king propelled his voice across the void, out towards his enemies.
"The ring has refused to rebuild the bridge. I've done everything I can to try and convince it otherwise, but it's simply out of my hands now. You'll have to do it yourself."
Manson's queen, Earth, cackled uncontrollably.
"Look at you old man, unable to even persuade an outdated magical relic to do your bidding. PATHETIC!" she spat.
Still clinging on to Peter and Tim's necks with her razor sharp nails, Earth looked back over her shoulder towards the array of nagas behind her.
"USE YOUR MAGIC!" she commanded. "REBUILD THE BRIDGE!"
As one, half a dozen of them slithered forward, the sickening noise of their bodies shifting across the ground inducing terror and fear into Peter and Tim simultaneously.
Painfully pulling her captives back from the death defying drop by the nails dug deeply into their flesh, ignoring their muffled screams, Earth made way for the six nagas, keen to see the extent of their magical abilities.
Slinking around so that each of them faced outwards and the tips of their tails all touched in the middle, the snake-like creatures formed a circle and all closed their eyes. Moments later a loud hum echoed throughout the chamber and the air almost felt like water, thick, heavy, pushing out against everything. Immediately every being there developed a headache, blistering agony blossoming out from behind their eyes and noses, some almost unable to stand because of their acute anguish, as the strange and unusual magic filled the air.
If not for the fingernails piercing their muscles, the two hostages, Peter and Tim, would have dropped to their knees, instead choosing to close their eyes and ride out the wicked waves of pain that assaulted them.
The magic was powerful, he had to give them that, but it was nothing he hadn't experienced before in his many centuries of service to the domain he'd dedicated his life to. Stoic spirit almost crushed, he chose to remain standing, steadfastly ignoring the assault on his false human appearance, a little part of him remaining open to the mysterious ring on his finger, hoping against hope that it would relent and at the very least talk to him. But so far... it wasn't to b
e.
Wrapped in darkness, the air around her abruptly took on a whole new dimension. Closing in, it felt as though it were trying to crush her, consume her magic, bury her spirit. Pulling the dark cowl down over her face, she smiled as the original pain from behind her eyes, that which had caught her by surprise, faded somewhat. The cloak, however it worked, had provided her with some kind of protection, for which she was eternally grateful. Now if only the others would arrive and join the party, then she could get on and finish this. Impatience was starting to eat away at her.
'Statuesque' would describe the circle of nagas. Not one of them moved a muscle, but clearly they were in contact with one another. Out of nowhere there was a brilliant, bright flash, followed by a booming thunderclap. Dragons on the king's side of the chasm dropped to their knees, afraid for their very existence.
Earth smiled as her eyes refocused, the brilliant, bright white light fading into nothingness as out in front of her, every conceivable shade of brown rock materialised from absolutely nothing, melding seamlessly with that on which they were already standing, a slight crunching ricocheting around all the walls as it did so. It wasn't quick, taking almost four minutes in all, but it was a rare sight and pleasurable to watch the smugness being wiped from the faces of the king's supposed protectors as they realised that now there really was nowhere to run. As the air returned to normal and the headaches disappeared, evil started to slide across the magnificent bridge that had just materialised out of nothing. Clearly, it was over now, and nothing could stop them ruling the planet, once and for all.
Relieved that the torture beneath their faces had subsided, Peter and Tim were cajoled across the bridge, towards the waiting monarch, each of them wrapped up in their own robes of despair and hopelessness, their bindings rattling around behind them.
Resonating across the bridge from far off behind them, a self-righteous, conceited and rather slimy voice caught everyone's attention.
"Ah... my love. It seems that once again you've surpassed my every expectation. What a wonderful ruler and consort you will make. Those fortunate to survive should be honoured to live under your rule."
"Eloquent words, my darling," replied Earth, licking her lips sumptuously, before blowing a kiss off in Manson's direction. "Why don't you join us and get acquainted with the last dragon monarch? I know he's just DYING to meet you."
Manson chuckled at her witty reply as he strode purposefully across the replacement structure, taking little interest in the magic that had created it.
Reaching the king's end of the bridge, Earth thrust each of her tortured captives to the floor directly in front of the monarch, as a large contingent of nagas spread out amongst the pathetic dragon force left. Here and now, the king knew that nothing but despair and wickedness was to come. It was hard for him to see it all end like this. Still he fought to contact the ring. Still the enigmatic band was having none of it.
Slowly, and very deliberately licking the blood off her fingernails, Earth caught the king's eye. It was a moment she'd been longing for, anticipating, relishing almost, for many, many decades. Now it was here. And it didn't disappoint. To her satisfaction, he was broken... once a mighty warrior, feared by many, respected by all, she could remember being in his presence as a youngster, being in awe of both him and... hmm, someone else. No longer... now he stood before her. It seemed only fitting that he bow.
"BOW BEFORE YOUR QUEEN!" she bellowed.
Broken, full to bursting with self pity and much more fearful than he would ever let on, he knew only one way to behave, to act. Needless to say, he didn't bow.
Approaching the end of the bridge, the tap, tap, tapping of his walking stick alerting all to his company, he wondered just how the next few seconds would play out, knowing full well that his beloved queen did not generally play well with others.
Eyes locked fiercely on the belligerent king, she could see him revel in what he thought to be the smallest of victories. He would kneel she knew, and it wouldn't take very long. Looking across to a dark hued naga in the middle of a group of dragons, she gave him the most imperceptible of nods. Faster than the eye could see, matt black metal scythed through the air with a ring of alarm to it. As the THUMP that marked the dragon guard's skull dropping to the floor rebounded across the king's private residence, a look of total and utter surprise remained engraved across the prehistoric beast's face.
Instantly a struggle started, but it was quelled before it had a chance to get out of hand.
Earth locked eyes once again with the king.
"BOW!" she ordered.
Trapped in a well of despair, tumbling out of control... he gave in, slowly dropping to his knees, head cowed for all to see.
"There... that wasn't so hard, was it?" Earth mocked.
For those on the side of light, the last vestiges of hope died there and then, their mortal bodies no doubt soon to follow.
Arm muscles bulging, still trying to break free from the impossible chains, vomit raced up Peter's oesophagus at the sight of the king kneeling before Manson's evil queen. Whatever had been going on, clearly a climax had all but been reached. Death, he knew, was only moments away. Part of him almost welcomed it, not wanting to see the planet and its many citizens burned, destroyed, hunted for sport or the king tortured mercilessly. It was easier just to die, to be the first of many and just get it over with. Swallowing loudly, he forced the bile back down his throat, wondering exactly how many minutes he had left.
As the tap, tap, tapping arrived, its source spoke.
"Graciously done, my queen."
Earth smiled at Manson's freely given approval.
Wheeling around, arms wide open, cane pointing high up to different points in the walls, the dastardly Manson pondered a different kind of effort than war, a redecorating effort.
"I must say it's all a bit more drab than I expected. Haven't you heard of colour? I think while you're suffering unbearable atrocities at the talons of someone you know quite well, I might have to remodel. Blood green or blood red might well be my first choice, but I wonder if I'll be bored with it by then... having of course seen so much of it... decisions, decisions."
Every being there who served the king fought to hold their tongues, knowing the words were designed to provoke, cause a reaction. Having seen just how easily one of their brethren had been slaughtered by a single evil naga, each of them knew that now was not the time, should a time even exist. Forcing his teeth together, cowed down on the floor in front of what he knew to be a wicked being, the king fought against his overwhelming urge to speak up. It was hard not to, but the thought of getting another being that he was responsible for, killed, kept him in line. For him, it was hard to see just what would happen next. All he knew was that it was the end of the line for dragon monarchs in general. There would be no more. He'd failed, totally and utterly, not just the world here and now, abundant with humans and dragons, but history itself. He couldn't help but ask himself if the great kings of the past would have done anything different, or fared any better.
Pumping furiously through her prehistoric veins, Amelia Battlehard's viscous green blood all but boiled, having witnessed the king's humiliation and the death of one of her own, igniting a rage and anger almost directly emanating from her DNA, coursing through her, unlike anything she'd ever felt before. Only her iron will prevented her from taking action, but even then she knew it was only a matter of time.
'Better struck down in battle, than killed like a defenceless youngling,' she thought.
Wandering casually over to his queen, before leaning in and planting a sticky wet kiss on her cheek, much to her amusement, the psychopathic Manson slowly stepped behind the king's prone frame.
"I think it's time you gave me what I want... old man!"
Out of sight, the monarch's weathered old face contorted in rage, having quite a good idea of exactly what he was talking about.
"GET TO YOUR FEET!" ranted Manson, suddenly seeming to have something of a psychotic epi
sode.
Gingerly, looking frail and showing every year of his time on the planet, George stumbled to his feet and turned to face the purple faced Manson. Across only a few feet, their eyes met, madness and insanity jockeying for position.
"The ring... it's mine now. Give it to me!" he ordered.
An echoing scream of, "NO!" reverberated throughout every molecule of the king's ancient body as the sentient artefact realised exactly what was going on. The pain was excruciating and lesser beings would have dropped to the floor, but not this one. It was almost exactly what he needed, all but waking him from a despairing, self pitying slumber.
30 Shafted
In an almost trance-like state, the young lacrosse playing dragon, barely breathing, sat cross legged at the end of the shaft overlooking events playing out below her across the king's private residence. Emotions deeply under wraps, she'd chosen meditation, something taught to her what seemed like a lifetime ago during the fourth year of her fifty year tuition at the Purbeck Peninsula nursery ring. Used primarily to enhance the restoration of dragon magic or mana as it was widely known, the near catatonic state did at least offer the benefit of replenishing energy and banishing fatigue, something she found herself in desperate need of.
Focusing solely on the miniscule specks of dust hanging in the air, occasionally glinting from what little light forced its way through the metal grille in front of her, she found great solace in being tightly wrapped in the cloak that Flash had guided her to. Not a hundred metres or so from the nearest dragon, she knew that without the mantle she might well be discovered, because these were the King's Guard, supposedly the best of the best, although she was sure Flash would have something to say on that particular subject.
