Bentwhistle the Dragon Box

by Paul Cude

  Within minutes of disembarking, the small group were sitting down at a table in the nearest bar, nursing drinks, letting their unfamiliar bodies get used to the feeling of being back on land. Blending in once again, all five of them used their magical abilities to listen in on conversations, whilst simultaneously watching the news reports blasting out from the television on the wall. Unsurprisingly, all the talk was of the unremitting downpour across the Amazon basin, the flooding and of course devastation. Fear in the voices of the other customers was evident, with each and every one of them concerned about the same thing happening here. Realisation of that very fact brought a smile to all five faces at once. The mischief needed was identified in an instant. They would of course be doing exactly what they'd done before, and not only would it terrify and ruin lives here, but much further down the line it would once again bring fright, horror and panic to those already suffering, further downstream, killing two birds with one stone if you like. Supping contently, all five imagined the chaos it would cause, and the recognition they would gain.

  35 A Surprise Return

  Huddled in and around the outreach building on the outskirts of Fleet Street itself, Gee Tee's rather large group lay low in and amongst the shadows, guards patrolling the perimeter; only their breathing could be heard. Amongst them, the small human contingent slept, curled up next to each other, exhausted not only from the journey, but from the stress of constant unseen threats. Their dragon comrades watched over each of them as if they were one of their own.

  With Jar Man and DomCon sharing rude and amusing stories in one corner, quietly Gee Tee delved the depths of his knowledge searching for anything that might be useful in their forthcoming attempt to retake the crystal node. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a hooded, cloaked intruder appeared amongst them. Too startled to even react, let alone put up any sort of defence, the dragon force scrambled to get to their feet. But by the time they had, the need to do so had evaporated.

  "Nice to know you're all paying attention," smirked Steel, having folded down the dark green hood that had concealed his face.

  "You surprised the living daylights out of us. How on earth did you get in here without the guards spotting you?" queried the master mantra maker, the others all looking on, eager to know the answer.

  "I think it's something in these cloaks and hoods. There are a few human shapes wearing these in and around where we want to be. I'm not sure if they're dragon or naga... it's difficult to tell. But inside one of the storage buildings, they had a supply of them. So naturally I appropriated as many as I could."

  "What about the node exchange? Is there an army there waiting to ambush us?"

  "Not an army, no. But enough of them to make it quite an even fight, if you take into account the hooded and cloaked shapes patrolling the outskirts."

  "I see," remarked the old shopkeeper, thinking. "Do you have anything in mind that might help us gain the advantage over all of them?"

  Nodding in the direction of Jar Man and DomCon, whilst continuing to smirk, Steel replied,

  "I believe I do."

  36 Tooled Up

  With Yoyo's youngsters having looted weapons from the corpses of those who had tried to slay them, whilst a group of the gifted individuals had cobbled together two of the heat insulating camouflage suits from the tatters that remained after the fight, they were almost ready to act and be gone from this place. Hillier and a young dragon by the name of Zebediah had the honour and responsibility of donning the two working suits that would render each of them all but invisible. It had been stressed just how important they would be, should their force find themselves in the middle of a pitched battle. They weren't to focus on one target, but were to move as fast as they could, saving dragon lives where possible in order to keep as many of them and their allies alive, sustaining the size and momentum on their side of the battle. Not all believed that they would blunder into the enemy; most of the youngsters thought the worst they would find would be a bad tempered king who very much disliked having his privacy disrupted. But not Flash, Yoyo, or Fredric. Realists each and every one of them, they'd seen fate in action before, albeit not on this kind of scale, and had a vague idea of how she worked. Each of them figured they'd be walking into a full-scale war.

  Surrounded by a wall so white and bright that thirty full sized polar bears could currently be hiding against its backdrop, the icy vault they found themselves in had started to feel claustrophobic for most of them. But in only a few moments, that wouldn't matter. Gathered together as a group, the naga king at the front, Fredric and Flash behind him, followed closely by Yoyo and his band, the atmosphere was quite literally electric, zigzagging lines of radiant magic zipping amongst the stalactites and stalagmites, burning through the ice and snow, crackling into the rock, steam rising into the chilly air.

  The upper part of his body weaving from side to side, the naga king resembled a snake that had been charmed, guttural moans and noises that could have been words, at least for another race, slipped from his lips, barely audible over the hissing of electricity.

  Chests bare and puffed out, the laminium chains criss-crossed the two former Crimson Guards creating a large X over each of their torsos, not weighing them down at all, quite the opposite in fact. Both dragons were determined to be the first through the wormhole when it opened. Flash because it was his mind the naga king was taking the coordinates from to determine the exit point, which was thought best as he had stayed at the king's private residence. And Fredric because he was desperate to see his friend... the king, and put a stop to whatever heinous crimes were in the middle of being committed. Once a leader, always a leader as far as he was concerned, and so with the wide-eyed young dragons lined up behind a very worried looking Yoyo, magic and mayhem erupted in the cavern, as a blinding bright green circle of light, constantly rotating, appeared, about the size of a tennis ball to start with, getting every bigger with every second that passed.

  His face bathed in the eerie green light from the portal, Fredric turned to face Flash, and with the tiniest of grins at the thought of finally leaving what had been his prison for so long, said,

  "Let's do this, shall we?""

  37 Bluffing, Huffing and Puffing

  'It's a bluff. It has to be,' thought Peter, taking in everything that was playing out before him. 'An outlandish one, it has to be said, but nevertheless a bluff.'

  Tank felt the same way, momentarily anyway. But the young rugby playing dragon was a good judge of character and an excellent reader of beings of any sort, something that here and now gave him cause for concern.

  'I think Manson might actually mean it,' crossed his mind, on studying the evil dark dragon's face from a distance.

  You'd have thought George would have had some insight, given how long he'd been on the planet and some of the roles he'd played during that time, but he was as confused as everyone else, including the gobsmacked Richie, whose mind was racing with everything going on.

  Just like her best friend, the only real conclusion it was possible for her to reach was that it was a bluff, designed to throw her off guard and buy Manson's opposing force more time to get into position. Well, they could be bloody sure she wasn't about to let that happen.

  "I'LL DO IT!" she exclaimed, sliding the laminium dagger's blade another millimetre or two deeper into Troydenn's underbelly, much to the elderly dragon's horror, the battle for her sanity playing out across her delicate freckled face.

  "GO ON THEN," urged Manson, his mouth coiling up into a very sick smirk.

  "SON!" boomed Troydenn's voice, almost knocking down those closest to the ground with the full force of it. "THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR GAMES!"

  Still smiling, the hateful beast, egged on by his queen, locked eyes with his father. It was then that Troydenn knew. This had been the plan all along. Well, maybe not this... but his death at some point. Having served his purpose he'd been betrayed by his ungrateful, spiteful son. In finally coming to realise he'd been well and truly stitch
ed up, a small part of him couldn't help but admire what his son had achieved. Something he probably would have done had their positions been reversed... a deed so very Troydennesque. Never in a million years had he thought the young half-breed had it in him to be so ruthless. Clearly he'd taught him well, and he would die appreciating that he'd learned from the very best there was. Knowing now that there was no way out, at least not with the help of his so-called allies, Troydenn, master of the dark, leader of coups and survivor of that sickly ice palace he'd been imprisoned in for so long, decided to take matters into his own hands. And so summoning every molecule of magic that existed inside his own body, he fed it directly into himself in an effort to increase his speed for what he was about to do, convinced he could fly up and off the blade before whoever it was that held him captive had a chance to react.

  More than anything... it was a feeling. Prickly, if she had to put words to it. That's how it felt. But it was a magical prickly, rather than a normal prickly or an imaginary prickly. Magic was most certainly involved, and that could only mean one thing... he was about to try and escape. Not on her watch. Without hesitation, and while keeping the blade at the exact same depth within the mighty dragon's weak spot, Richie pushed her hand gripping the hilt of the dagger deeper into the matt black belly of the beast, reminding her of Flash's torture back in Salisbridge marketplace. As her hand pushed through the gloop, and up against an organ or two, she fought valiantly to contain the nausea inside her. There... the tip of the blade remained in exactly the same spot, but now, having pushed her hand deep inside, the whole of the dagger was almost horizontal, making flying up and off the cutting edge all but impossible, even with magical assistance.

  But a moment away from reacting suddenly he felt movement... inside him. Anger roared through him at the timing of his enemy's counter. Had they known what he was about to do? He wouldn't have thought it possible. Even so, it seemed unlikely it was a coincidence. Whoever was down there had real power with a mind to match and, as far as he was concerned, presented a very real threat, not only to him, but to his son and that bitch of a queen he fawned over. Why couldn't they see that? Together they were stronger and could defeat whoever it was, but on their own little breaches opened up in their defences, breaches that if they weren't careful, could become full blown liabilities.

  'Oh son... what on earth have you done?'

  Manson was able to sense it, he always could when his father was about to unleash something magical... an attack, an escape, a diversion, just something. And then abruptly, he stopped. On closer inspection, he noticed that the young lacrosse player, dragon, human, whatever she now was, had adjusted her point of attack, no doubt preventing him from either fleeing or striking out. Ha! How ironic was that? He'd spent an age mulling over just how he would do it. Poison... that seemed like a good one, but there were unaccountable risks involved. Killing him in his sleep had been next on his list. But he wouldn't put it past the old dragon to lay magical traps just in case of treachery. While his father had taught him a great deal of what he knew, of one thing he was totally sure, that he hadn't taught him everything. And knowing the crafty old scum bag, he'd saved the best for last, for his personal protection, should the time come. A surprise combined all out attack from everyone... himself, Earth, each and every one of the guards... he'd determined that course of action to be the riskiest of all. Troydenn was powerful, even as aged as he was, and he knew better than to underestimate the elderly vulture. Just like books, you should never, ever judge a dragon by their cover.

  Glancing away momentarily from what was transpiring, Peter caught the barest hint of fear in the king's eyes, something that immediately made him worry about his friend's predicament. If George had cause to be afraid, then almost certainly Richie had bitten off more than she could chew. In his mind, there was now no way this played in their favour. Whether Manson wanted the old dragon dead, or whether he was just bluffing, either way, Richie was in over her head so to speak. After the debacle with transferring her consciousness into the ring, he just couldn't lose her again. Allowing his mind to fold up into itself he frantically started searching for anything... anything at all that would help him out. He'd done it twice already, on the march to London. But this time he redoubled his efforts, determined not to let his friend down when she needed him the most.

  Out of nowhere, the background noise, haze and clutter that had been playing out over the top of their bond ceased. Eyes still closed, a deep serenity consumed not only Janice, but Fu-ts'ang as well. Across the mental connection, they shared everything. Janice's love for Peter, her surprise at the events of the last couple of days, and just what kind of person she was. The experienced killer weapon forged many thousands of years ago briefly got to glimpse through a window into her soul. And was surprised at what it found. Good: pure, honest to God good. If it were at all possible, he/it was slightly taken aback, having never come across this from any of his previous wielders. Mostly they'd had dark, morbid souls. Oh don't get me wrong... some were well intentioned... but overwhelmingly they were killers, takers of lives, perhaps doing the right thing for the wrong reason, or the wrong thing for the right reason. Never before had he encountered such a shining beacon of goodness, her goal utterly selfless, attempting to rescue the one she loved. And surrounding that bright, white, noble soul were all the other virtues that she possessed. Courage, bravery, kindness, compassion, a strong will and a high regard for other beings, not just people.

  'This one,' thought Fu-ts'ang, 'is like nothing I've ever encountered before. She's special, and not just a little.'

  All too well aware of the responsibility he carried in the form of one of the most powerful magical artefacts on the entire planet, tucked away out of sight in the tiniest pocket in the world on the side of one of his walking boots, Tank only had a bad feeling about where this was all going. After having watched Richie let her anger get the better of her and back herself into a corner with nowhere else to go, Manson's bluff, if that's what it was, had now weakened her position considerably, at least in his mind. If she killed the monstrous matt black beast, and there was no doubting in his mind that she wished to, then there would be no hiding. There would be no way out, and undoubtedly Manson's entire force would attack her as one, resulting in one thing only. HER DEATH! If she conceded just a little, then just maybe she could bargain for their lives, that is if Manson's play was a bluff. If it was, then he must have been the best poker player in the world, because right now, as it stood, it did truly look as though the evil dark dragon and ex-hockey player wouldn't mind one bit if Richie exacted her revenge for Tim's very brutal and public execution. Knowing he had to be ready to act, he slowed his racing heart, ran through in his mind how the first few seconds of the encounter would play out, and hoped to hell that once on his finger, the temperamental ring would obey his every command straight away. If it didn't, then they really were in awesome amounts of trouble.

  Not daring even to gulp, due to the cold dark metal of the wicked looking bastard sword held firmly against her throat, Amelia Battlehard looked on in admiration at what the young woman, previously a dragon (yes... she knew all about the lacrosse player, and most of the stunts she'd gotten up to on the surface) had achieved. Taking a dragon such as Troydenn by surprise was no easy feat. For a split second, she wondered how she'd done it. Magic... maybe, skill, cunning and guile... quite possibly... or something else. Maybe even a combination of all of those things. However it had happened though, it gave them a worthy distraction, something they hadn't had before. So immersing herself fully into the situation, the dragon captain got ready to give the signal, knowing that more of her troops would die than live during the first few seconds of the fight, given the precarious situation they all found themselves in. Now was not the time to be sorry about that. Now was the time to focus, concentrate, be ready. Later there would be time for mourning. Now was the time to fight, fight for their monarch. And win not only their freedom, but that of the planet as well.


  Dagger in almost as far as it would go, and almost up to her elbow in Troydenn, she fought off the red mist threatening to engulf her, realising that whatever action she took next didn't just affect her, but had massive ramifications for her friends and the king, as well as the entire planet.

  'Be calm,' she told herself, inhaling another deep breath, holding it in, and then puffing it out and starting over again.

  Patience not really being his strong suit, Manson had become tired and almost bored with the situation. All he wanted was for it to be over. And with that in mind, he decided to take action.

  "So," he announced to everyone present, his words clearly aimed at Richie, "you're a spineless coward just like your friends here. It doesn't surprise me. BENTWHISTLE had the chance to finish me off some time ago, but lacked both the courage and intelligence to follow through on such a deed. I can see now that you're made from exactly the same stuff. As well, I suppose being a female must make it so much harder. Having to fight I mean. Generally you're all frightened little children, who are far better off staying at home, cooking cleaning, minding the offspring, awaiting the return of the warrior of the house."