by Paul Cude
A split second before a red death took him, Peter bit down on the alea and in his mind screamed the words that Gee Tee had assured him would trigger the last chance or gamble that it represented. Amongst the chaos of his surroundings, he had almost expected nothing to happen. After all, he was totally reliant on the master mantra maker in all this.
Sucking in a small breath, she shivered despite the humidity and heat. Eyes open now and focused fully on one person only, she watched helplessly as Manson's evil queen summoned her blood red magic and prepared to destroy the love of her life with it. Inside her head, a voice echoed gently throughout her thoughts, providing focus and a measure of calm despite the circumstances.
"Concentrate! You need to concentrate if we're all to get out of this. He'll be alright until we can get to him. He's actually quite resourceful, you know."
Heeding the wise weapon's words, Janice closed her eyes again and immersed herself in magic. Being surrounded by ancient beings had never felt so good.
Watching the dark objects head for Flash and his party of dragons at quite a rate, Hook made the only decision he could: to fight! Having very little left to give, he whirled around and punched the dark dragon standing over him with everything he had left. In all honesty, it was a gamble, like the one Peter had just taken with the alea. But in Hook's case it was a calculated risk. After all, they had to procreate? Didn't they? As the pain in his hand from making contact dropped him to his knees, a moment later he had his answer in the form of the most barbaric of howls. Rolling over and over, all too aware of the giant shadow getting ever closer, Hook barely made it out from underneath the body of the flailing dragon as he collapsed to the marble surface with the loudest CRUNCH in the world. Beside himself with laughter at what had just happened, all the time pushing away the pain from his hand, broken arm and assorted other injuries, he crawled into a crouch and began looking for some cover. As he did so, magic blossomed into existence all around.
Drawn to the brilliant, bright reddish magic ignited by Manson's queen directly behind Peter, a feeling of utter helplessness threatened to overtake her. What broke that spell, bringing her back to her current predicament and almost brought a smile to her face despite the dire situation, was Hook off to one side, turning in one swift move and punching the dragon hovering over him right in the 'hoard of treasure'. As the magic from the laminium dagger consumed her totally, all she could think was that the rugby playing human was something special, to say the least.
The time had come, and so without any regrets at all, telepathically, she sent the signal, before turning her attention to the rather sticky situation she found herself in. Bringing one of her hands up so fast it was a blur, even to all those with magical powers, she just managed to get it between the dark, shiny blade and the scales around her neck. Even that would only buy her a matter of moments, so with her other hand straight down by her side, she conjured up a fragmented bolt of dark blue lightning and proceeded to ram it into her guard. The resulting yelp had been reassuring, but not quite the reaction she'd hoped for, having been certain that the guard would have dropped to the ground or been thrown back by her attack. Unfortunately he'd remained professional throughout and still had his lethal looking, sharp as hell bastard sword up and around her throat. Undeterred, and with the blade now cutting into the flesh of her hand, instinctively she kicked out, aiming for the exact same area as Hook, but not quite making the same kind of contact. With magic exploding all around her, it was hard to concentrate and bring forth any of hers now, with her opponent's strength threatening to overwhelm her. Thoughts of the king and how she'd let him down punctuated the tears zigzagging across her scales. As her hand gave out, almost cut in two, she said goodbye to the only world she'd known and waited for her head to be cleaved from her body. Knowing that some dragons prayed to long forgotten gods, it had never really been her thing. Imagining a higher power and believing in miracles was an absolute impossibility for her. But what happened next would make her re-examine every belief she had.
From completely out of nowhere, a rusty, old, bent dagger slashed through the right elbow of the arm holding the dark and dangerous blade, powered by magic with enough force to sever it completely. With a CLANG and a THUNK, the sword dropped to the floor, swiftly followed by half a dragon arm, the dark dragon still having barely realised what had happened, it had all been so fast. More than a little surprised at the unexpected turn of events, Amelia Battlehard swept up the dark sword without a moment's hesitation, and with the blade held firmly, pirouetted, decapitating her enemy in the blink of an eye. Looking around for the king, out of thin air only a couple of metres away, a dragon's head appeared, all on its own. To say it nearly frightened the life out of her was an understatement. With a million questions running through her mind, and a raging battle kicking off all around her, the head in question winked once, roared, "You're welcome," and then suddenly disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. Unable to ponder the total impossibility that had saved her and with the giant black beast of a sword firmly gripped with both hands, she took off at a sprint, weaving in and out of the explosive magic that ravaged the air all around her, all the time heading for the king's last location.
Throughout the complex, King's Guards fought against their assailants valiantly, despite being severely outnumbered, even though most, like Amelia Battlehard, had a sharpened blade to their throats. Some used magic to fight their way free, others used cunning and guile. Most failed, some survived and won their personal duels, procuring a weapon and a very small amount of thinking time.
Ignoring the explosions, animalistic cries and the debris all around her, she opened her mind and let it wander, gaining a bird's eye view of everything raging across the field of battle. Not only was she the eyes now, but in charge of the decision making too. And so it was that as the battle commenced, the sole point of her focus was the group of nagas which Fu-ts'ang found himself in the middle of. Held out in front by one of them, not at all fazed by the cool frost constantly circling the blade, he was suddenly startled when the extraordinary weapon, of its own accord, turned up, its tip pointing directly towards his throat. Halfway through his thought of, 'what the hell is going on?' suddenly the weapon surged forward with all the supersonic speed of a bullet, the blade plunging up through his jaw and into his skull, killing him instantly. His comrade beside him was the only one to have seen clearly what had happened and so started to slither away. Those around began to berate their colleague in the middle of the battle for breaking formation. Before he had the chance to explain about the weapon, Fu-ts'ang and Janice turned their attention towards the whole group of them, slicing two in half before they'd even registered a threat. Finally the nagas in that small cluster got into the game, bringing out their best magic, aiming wonderfully coloured bolts of electricity, fire and even ice at the majestic looking weapon as it manically flew through the air, on the hunt for each and every one of them. It was, however, all to no avail. Fu-ts'ang was far too nimble and agile for any of the attacks. Janice had found peace and a perfect partnership. While she detested the killing, she had no doubt it was necessary, not just for the here and now, but for the much bigger picture. It went beyond all of this and affected everyone, everywhere. This wasn't so much about surviving for the next few minutes, as about the whole planet and saving the entire population of the earth and their way of life. In less than twenty seconds, a pile of dead nagas had appeared in the middle of the chamber, leaving the previously pristine floor and the blade of the deadly weapon slick with naga blood.
As the blood red magic in all its rage left her fingers, the thrill of yet another kill ran through her, chilling her spine, igniting her senses, fulfilling her blood lust. Imagine her surprise when instead of shredding its target, it failed to make contact entirely, bouncing harmlessly off a pale yellow defensive shield that had sprung up out of nowhere. Before she had any chance to react or make any sense of what had just happened, a white-hot superheated nova exploded outwards at w
aist height, with Peter at its centre, shredding one or two of the goons nearby, forcing the dragon king to remain on the floor, and most joyously of all, tossing Earth halfway across the vast open space of the residence. Peter savoured the moment Earth crashed clumsily to the floor, some way away. Landing in a twisted heap, she looked as though her head had taken the brunt of things. For all he was worth, he hoped that she was dead, and that looked to be the case from where he was standing. But what had happened? Looking down at his feet and off to either side, it became apparent that he was surrounded by some kind of energy shield. Not only that, but the magical binders that had been the bane of his life for as long as he could remember had shattered, their metal remnants scattered across the floor behind him. The alea had worked perfectly. Unsure of just how long it would hold, or just how much magic it could absorb, he quickly scouted around, unsure of whether to join the fight or beat some sort of retreat. But where could he retreat to, he wondered. Out of the corner of his right eye he could just make out Yoyo, hidden in the shadows, showering what he assumed where helpful healing spells on the cast of young dragons that had appeared through the wormhole. Should he cover Yoyo, or were there more pressing matters?
Simultaneously, in a huge room packed full of chaos, the two women smiled. Scything down their enemies from a position on the floor through her telepathic contact with the deadly weapon, Janice had managed to catch Peter's miraculous feat and escape from certain death. Hope swelled inside her as her flying comrade Fu-ts'ang urged her to concentrate. They were still massively outnumbered with nowhere to escape to. Now more than ever they needed to even up the numbers, if that were at all possible.
Standing against the backdrop of Troydenn's huge corpse, Richie smiled at what her friend had just achieved. If she had to guess, she'd say he'd almost certainly found some way to break the alea and release the ancient magic within. That thought provided her with a measure of comfort. Her best friend had survived an encounter he clearly wasn't meant to and was at least safe for the time being. Eyeing up all the dark dragons determined to end her, she settled on one and, harnessing all her magic, set off at the kind of speed Flash would be proud of.
Whipping around at quite a rate, the naga king put all his might into his tail, using it to fell a vicious looking dragon that had made to slice him in half with a two-handed cut of his giant sword. As the prehistoric beast smashed into the plinth that had been designated the heart of the king's command centre, cracking the spotless marble floor in over a dozen places, a violence born of being held in captivity for all that time bubbled to the surface, consuming the serpent-like monarch in a fit of fury. Before the dragon had time to contemplate any kind of defence, needle sharp jaws clamped tightly around its neck, severing arteries and bone alike. Throat a bloody mess, the ancient beast died where he'd fallen. Anger sated somewhat, the naga king cowered behind the corpse and what remained of the plinth as magical attacks detonated all around him. Dragons fought dragons, nagas fought dragons, as humans fought dragons and nagas. It was total and utter chaos. Aware that he had a duty not only to his kind, but to the dragons that had aided his rescue, ducking down to avoid being a potential target, he opened his mind up as much as he could and let go with the most powerful telepathic cry possible. In peacetime, on another continent, this would have attracted the attention of others like him from nearly one hundred miles away. Here and now, he was certain those around him in this building would stop and take heed. But they didn't. There was no lull, no let up in the intensity of the cruelty and carnage. It made no difference at all. Pulling his mind fully back to the present, he wondered just what else he could do, apart from fight alongside the light sided dragons that had rescued him. Ignoring the failure that threatened to tear him apart from the inside, he chose a target... another dragon, for the simple reason that he just couldn't fight against one of his own and, readying his magic, entered the fray.
Still a little surprised at the situation they found themselves in, despite having had it drummed into them in Antarctica before they'd stepped through the magical wormhole, Yoyo's band of young dragons were performing admirably. Terror had gripped them at first, but only for an instant. After that, their 'nothing is beyond us' attitude kicked in and they'd all entered the fight, adhering to Yoyo's strict telepathic instructions not to engage either Manson or Earth. If they found themselves in a direct confrontation with either, they were to flee as though their lives depended upon it. Almost certainly they would.
From out of nowhere a dark green dragon the size of a four storey house, with a black blazing sun and sun rays adorning his hip, landed softly in the middle of them, bellowing brilliant orange and yellow flame in a huge semi circle, hoping to slip past the group's defences. Ignoring the small arms fighting going on all around him, Maggotts (don't ask how he got his name) instantly conjured up a magical shield directly in front of the dragon, not only halting the spread of his lethal flame, but reflecting a fair amount back at the assailant. Surprised, and temporarily blinded because of the heat and flare that had bounced back his way, the nefarious looking beast started to choke on the flame that he'd already pulled up from his stomach. Momentarily distracted, he had no idea that the youngsters around him were coordinating telepathically and that they had already decided what form their attack was going to take. Dropping the shield, Maggotts now peppered the prehistoric creature's wings with tiny little fluorescent, yellow darts, perforating skin and sinew alike, dropping the dragon to his knees as he howled in pain. Taking full advantage of the distraction provided by their friend, Dymist and Wiz, two of the more experienced dragons, both used their power simultaneously to cast a mantra that connected them both by a fizzing, hissing and spluttering, pumpkin coloured streak of energy, the ends of which sat snugly above the palms of their hands, looking in some ways like the most dangerous skipping rope in existence. Having practised in unison during the times Yoyo hadn't been around, the two synchronised their attack perfectly, both bounding off in opposite directions before winding back in, wrapping the sadistic cord of energy perfectly around the attacking dragon's thick, scaly neck. Aware now of the trouble he was in, he ducked, wriggled and kicked out, all the time flapping what remained of his wings in an attempt to get away. But there was now no escape. The youngsters' plan had worked flawlessly and with one giant pull on each end of the magical rope from both Dymist and Wiz, the dragon's head smashed to the ground, followed immediately by its body. Through their telepathic link, both young dragons expressed their joy at having succeeded in their efforts, but the time for congratulations was not now, and so with Yoyo looking on in astonishment at what he'd just witnessed from the shadows, the two youngsters melted back into the mayhem, hoping somehow to make a difference.
Limping badly, but still smiling beneath all his injuries, Hook weaved his way between corpses, dodging brilliant coloured magical attacks, all the time trying not to choke on the smoke that was starting to encompass the chamber. Briefly he'd caught a glimpse of a dragon tucked up in the shadows, one that he was sure had come through the wormhole, or whatever it had been, with Flash and the others. If that were so, and he was sure it was, then he'd be an ally, something he dearly needed right at this very moment. About halfway to his objective, the mightiest roar in the world from behind him nearly swept him off his feet. Glancing around, terror froze his heart, the smile gone from his face forever. There, stomping towards him, drool dribbling from his razor sharp teeth, an expression of pure hatred etched across his prehistoric features, was the dragon he'd punched firmly in the baby maker, clearly on a mission of revenge. Hook fought against his fear, bravely, fiercely, but whether because of the situation, everything going on around him, or because of his grave injuries, he remained firmly rooted to the spot, unable to move even an inch.
Sensing something, he allowed the little tug at his consciousness to turn his head away from his young charges. Fifty metres or so, directly in his line of sight, a frightened young human stood rooted to the floor as a very dis
appointed off (see what I did there) dark dragon plodded furiously towards him.
'That must be one of the brave humans that Flash told us about,' he thought. With the dragon bearing down on the defenceless human, Yoyo pondered what to do. His array of offensive mantras was limited to say the least, and he couldn't think of anything that would take down that dragon at this range. Feeling more than a little helpless, and not able to see where any assistance would come from, closing his eyes, he did the only thing he could and hoped it would be enough.
Heart threatening to jump right out of his chest it was pumping so hard, the pain from his broken arm, his bleeding leg and the blows to his head finally threatened to overtake him. Never having previously faced death or anything remotely like it, he closed his eyes and let his thoughts turn to rugby, his sport and those that he'd called his teammates, Tank among them. Not sorry in the least to have come on this rollercoaster of a journey, he wouldn't have changed a thing, and so with one calm breath he relaxed and accepted the fate he was about to be dealt. Towering over him menacingly, a sickly grin appeared as the dastardly dark dragon opened his mouth in an effort to summon the flame with which he intended to barbecue the insignificant creature in front of him, and drew back his head. It was exactly then that a warm, light embrace smothered Hook, hugging him tight, replenishing him fully and curing every ailment that plagued his body. Thinking that he was being cooked, it was only when he opened his eyes that he realised he'd been restored to full health. In fact full health didn't really do it justice. He felt great, better than great. He felt the best he'd ever felt... strong, full of energy, ready for anything.
And so with that in mind, and his body having shaken off all the fear that had previously incapacitated him, Hook cartwheeled off to one side as the superheated column of flame that was meant for him vaporised the marble in the exact spot he'd been standing only a split second before. Satisfied with revenge, the dragon was wide-eyed to spot his ape shaped nemesis off to one side, not only un-barbecued, but fully healed by the look of things. It didn't matter though. This persistent pain was nothing more than an insignificant insect and would be dealt in much the same manner. Surging forward, the dragon stamped the ground with all its might, causing a minor quake in the immediate vicinity. Hook toppled like a domino next in line, falling flat on his chest, the wind temporarily knocked out of him. Pushing himself to get to his feet, it was pretty much all he could do to dive up and over, out of the way of the blur of a tail flashing out of nowhere as the dragon turned full circle. Slamming down once again on the painfully hard floor, the tough rugby player turned to face his opponent. Not sure exactly what he could do against him even in his fully fit state, suddenly he wished for the master mantra maker's backpack. But it was in vain, as he'd been relieved of it before they'd been taken into the big council building. Thoughts of running away were contrary to everything he'd been taught and believed in. And so as the ancient beast trampled towards him, the valiant young man bravely stood his ground.
