by Paul Cude
Siphoning off some of the magic from the laminium dagger that was surely only on loan to her, Richie used the additional power to boost her telepathic range and, opening her mind in a calm and controlled manner (something quite new to the rebellious young lacrosse player) shouted as loud as she could.
"Light sided individuals... fall back to the wall nearest the staircase. There we will regroup and coordinate our attacks with a view to taking the fight to them. As quickly as you can... your commander, Richie Rump."
'Boy has she got some chops,' thought Peter, his friend's every word reverberating around inside his head. Wondering how they would all know to obey the command, he assumed most of the guards here would probably never have heard of her, let alone trust her enough with their lives mid-battle. But a quick momentary look made him think again. Yoyo's group of young dragons who were fighting furiously with magic and conventional means, occasionally helped by their two invisible friends, had heard the call and were slowly shuffling in the direction of the rendezvous. The circle of ably equipped King's Guards continued fighting valiantly on, outnumbered and overwhelmed but currently holding their own, mainly due to Amelia Battlehard's command of the situation. Hovering above them, putting out fires, both figuratively and literally, the captain of the guard glanced over in their direction. Richie pointed with her thumbs, indicating the direction that they all should be travelling in. It was something of a standoff, with the captain of the guard reluctant to trust anyone she didn't know. But given the situation, and the fact that quite probably they'd all be dead if not for her unexpected intervention, she knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. So, one excruciating footstep at a time, their fighting force moved back in the right direction, all the time trying not to trip over the blood soaked cadavers that littered the battlefield.
Grabbing Janice by the hand, Peter poked his head out from behind the huge dragon corpse all three of them were crouching behind, and tried to figure out the best route back to Yoyo's position. It was then that he spotted him, smack bang right in the middle of everything. HOOK! Before he could even think, 'what the hell are you doing?', he realised not what, but just who the rugby playing human was dragging. FLASH! Instantly he grasped Richie by the upper arm, trying to make himself heard over the racket of rampaging magic and very real explosions. Try as he might, he just couldn't. So instead, he pointed, hoping his new found leader would get the message. She did.
Screaming at the top of her voice for her two friends to follow, the lacrosse playing wizard broke into a sprint, tumbling here and there occasionally to avoid the odd long range attack. Following in her wake, the two reunited lovers had a hard time skipping up and over some of the debris, consequently arriving at Hook a few moments after their leader who was, by then, crouched over Flash's unconscious form.
Looking up into Hook's newly repaired face, whilst at the same time deflecting away numerous bright yellow magical spears that would really have ruined their day, and their lives, Richie asked what they were all thinking.
"Where's Yoyo? Why hasn't he healed Flash yet?"
Before Peter had a chance to respond, Hook cut in.
"Yoyo's in a bad shape. I think he tried to heal Flash, but somehow it's all gone wrong. He told me to get Flash's body to him so that he could touch the chains straddling his torso."
Placing her dagger beside one of Flash's chains, it immediately became obvious what the metal they were made of was. Laminium!
'Impressive,' thought Richie. Where or even how the ex-Crimson Guard had gotten such power she couldn't even begin to fathom. Her abilities had been greatly enhanced by the laminium in the dagger, and that must have been only a fraction of what made up the chains. The magical potential alone was staggering. And so if that was the case, why on earth couldn't Flash heal himself? Then she spotted it... the dire infested wound on his leg, leaching a dark, stinking matter, its covering increasing with every second that passed.
'No doubt naga magic,' she thought.
"Peter... you and Hook take an arm each. I'll take his good leg. Let's get him over to Yoyo in double quick time."
Both nodding, and with Janice accompanying them, using Fu-ts'ang to guard their path, Peter, Hook and Richie carried their injured friend back to Yoyo. Of everything that had happened in the middle of the raging fight, and that includes Janice sitting on the floor, eyes closed, all alone for quite a while, this was almost the most bizarre. But in no small part due to a considerable amount of luck, they made it back, placing their friend at the feet of the statue-like healer. Puffing and panting, having exerted considerable strain, Hook told them again that Yoyo needed to touch the chains. No sooner had the words left his mouth when Richie, enhanced by the dagger, picked up the injured Flash, careful not to touch his toxic wound, and slowly walked him across to the healer. With Flash in place, Peter gently lowered Yoyo's right hand, and despite him being in a trance-like state, he found very little in the way of resistance. The instant his dragon hand made contact with the magical metal, Yoyo let out a long sigh, accompanied by the words,
"Oh my."
Taking a step back, Peter asked Richie if she needed a hand with Flash. Smiling, she declined. With Janice still using Fu-ts'ang to great effect and Hook watching out for any kind of sneak attack, Peter found himself encouraging Yoyo's contingent of misfits to head his way faster. Marvelling at their mastery of so much dragon magic, particularly given their apparent age, he couldn't help but notice just how lucky they were getting. Opponents' feet would give way at just the right time, while swords either slipped away or were mysteriously blocked for no apparent reason. Absolutely convinced something else was going on, he really couldn't fathom what.
Yoyo felt fulfilled... spiritually, magically, in every possible way. That's how this abundance of magic impacted on him. Clearing his mind from the fog that had clouded it, and glad he didn't now have to face the consequences of embarking on a mantra and not having enough magical energy to complete it, he turned his attention, not for the first time, to the dragon before him. Before even delving into the depths of Flash's injury, something tickled his senses, brushed his brain. But before he could latch onto it, it was gone, scooting off into the ether. A feeling of change somehow played over him. Was he supposed to change? Had the battle somehow changed? He didn't know and right at this very moment, didn't actually care. Dismissing the strange sensation as just one of those things, the dragon healer once again cast a mantra, this time not even vaguely concerned about the amount of mana needed to see it through. Pure, raw, unadulterated magic seeped out of Yoyo and flooded Flash's damaged body. But a connection remained... one tiny strand of the supernatural held the link together. Through that bond, information filtered back and forth. As the power invaded Flash at a cellular level, an unrivalled level of detail found its way back to the dragon healer. Over the course of twenty seconds or so, Yoyo built up an unparalleled picture of Flash's physiology. In this case, magic trumps science every time. Studying the information for but a few seconds at most, it became clear just how invasive the enchantment he'd been struck with was. It was multiplying and spreading at quite a rate. Normally Yoyo would have been encumbered by the amount of mana available to him, but for the very first time in his life, this wasn't the case. And so with that in mind, he let his imagination run rife, dreaming up the most outrageous and majestic solutions to the almost unimaginable problem. In two blinks of an eye, he had it. Desperate didn't begin to cover it, and under normal circumstances he wouldn't have even dared dream of it. But normal had caught the bus out of here long ago. Only drastic measures remained.
Breaking his concentration, he returned to reality, Richie, Peter, Janice and Hook all pleased to see him.
"Thank goodness you're okay," exclaimed Peter, clutching Yoyo's free hand.
"Yes, yes, yes. I'm sorry, but we don't have time for all this at the moment."
With Peter wondering what he'd done wrong, the healer's eyes fell on Richie and more importantly the dagger sh
e held.
"Ah... you must be Miss Rump. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard all about you."
'That could mean anything,' Richie thought, but went along with it anyway.
"I'm afraid I'm going to need you to do something that you really don't want to," insisted Yoyo.
"And what's that?"
"You must cut Flash's leg off somewhere above his injury. Make sure you're not too close to the magical infection itself and use your weapon's magic to cauterise the wound or all this will be for nothing."
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME? CUT HIS LEG OFF?"
"I don't have time to explain everything, but it will be all right if you follow my instructions to the letter. There's no time to waste."
Richie shook her head, cursing under her breath.
"It'll be alright Rich. I trust him implicitly. You can too," urged Peter.
"Okay... I'll do it. But this had better work."
"It will, little one, it will," assured the healer, about to get back to work. "Just remember to cut off the correct one, and things will be fine." And with a wink and a smile, Yoyo's face turned blank once again, all his concentration focused on the wellbeing of his patient.
Richie turned to Peter.
"Well... that's reassuring. Make sure you cut the right one off."
All Peter could do was grin.
"Sounds like good advice to me," he chipped in.
Turning away, she handed Flash's body over to Peter, and blocking out the sounds of fighting all around her, the superstar lacrosse player wiped the dagger once again across the front of her t-shirt, why she didn't know... it wasn't as if it was sterilised. Kneeling down level with the wound, she sucked up yet more of the dagger's seemingly unlimited power. Gripping the hilt tight, before taking a calming breath, there was no way on earth she'd normally do this to one of her friends. But circumstances required her once again to do something totally and utterly against what she believed in, and so telling herself it was down to her and nobody else, she dragged the dagger across Flash's leg, just below the knee, scything through bone, muscle and cartilage all in one fell swoop. Landing with a mighty CLUNK, the bottom half of Flash's left leg dropped to the cold, marble floor without any sort of fuss. No blood, no mess, just a nice clean incision with the magic from the dagger sealing both sides.
"Ughhhhhh..." groaned the ex-Crimson Guard, still for the most part not with them at all.
Surprised that Flash hadn't made more noise... Peter knew he would, had somebody just cut off one of his limbs. There and then his job of holding Flash up straight was now made more difficult with him effectively only having one leg to stand on. Using all the strength he had, the young hockey player wondered just how long it would take Yoyo to weave his magic.
Eyeing the infested stump that only moments ago had been attached to one of her closest friends, Richie could still see the darkness within the gaping wound multiply. Eerily creepy, she wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Part of her wanted to kick it away, while another part wanted to destroy it entirely. Not sure if either option was a good idea... (what if she obliterated it and Yoyo needed it back?) she settled for keeping a close watch on it.
Things all around them were getting louder and closer, with Janice still using her precious partner, the weapon that resembled a frosty buzz saw, Fu-ts'ang, to carve a path for the group of young dragons. Only about twenty metres away now, it was plain to see they had all suffered numerous injuries, with two of their kind being dragged along the floor, bleeding profusely, to what they hoped would be relative safety.
Through the connection the two shared, Yoyo could sense the molecules within his friend's body start to return to normal now that the esoteric, dark magic had been removed from the equation. Keen to get the ex-Crimson Guard back into fighting shape, he knew with access to this much power and mana that virtually nothing was beyond his will. And so, without a moment's hesitation, he immersed himself in the supernatural and, using the blueprint from the magic he'd showered Flash with earlier, began to create another limb that he hoped would be an exact replica of the one they'd had to cut off. Igniting the magic one molecule at a time, it was a dizzying prospect and one that under normal circumstances, he wouldn't even have attempted to take on. But as well as enhancing everything magical within him, the powerful metal of the chains had also boosted his self confidence and belief. There was nothing he couldn't do or achieve, and Flash's little scratch was nothing more than a temporary inconvenience.
Hurried by a trio of wicked looking nagas, what was left of Yoyo's band of young dragons backed their way up against the wall, all the time making sure their injured were covered and protected.
"We need Yoyo right now!" screamed Wiz in Richie and Peter's direction.
"He's a little busy, but it shouldn't take long," replied the lacrosse playing dragon, trying to sound as calm and as reasonable as possible.
"They're hurt... really badly. He needs to heal them NOW!"
That was it. Richie had finally reached the end of her tether and despite the severity of the circumstances, was about to go off the reservation. Knowing what to look out for with his friend, Peter managed to step in just in time to defuse the situation.
"Why don't I take a look at your friends?" he suggested, while uh... Rich, perhaps you could help out with... THAT!"
As a group, they all looked around. Beyond the trio of nagas fighting furiously with the group of young dragons from Perth, five of the meanest looking dragons they'd ever seen had taken to the air and were currently approaching the group at speed. Trapped against the marble wall of the lower floor, as a group they were sitting ducks, something their leader, Richie, now realised. While it did offer them a modicum of cover, and it was the only part of the chamber to do just that, it hadn't occurred to her that a situation quite like this might arise. Silently cursing her stupidity, she leapt up and over Yoyo's charges, planting herself fully in front of them to face the oncoming aerial foes. Leaning back, almost as far as she could go without toppling over, she narrowly avoided having her throat cut by one of the nagas and his trusty shadowy sword. Disappointed to say the least, and now harbouring a thirst for vengeance, the petite lacrosse player stabbed the naga straight through the middle of its face, watching it die full of surprise. Before the beast's slack body hit the floor, it was back to the job at hand, the five dragons streaking in at top speed, almost a blur, even to her magical senses. Knowing that they would make run after run at them with a view to incinerating the group with bursts of their deadly flame, she could only think of one thing that would prevent all-out slaughter. Drawing on all the power her weapon possessed, Richie brought up her personal shield, letting it flicker into being all around her. Absorbing the magic into her entire being, she commanded the shield to expand. Much to her surprise... it did, covering the entire group in the process, as well as decapitating the remaining two nagas who'd been mid-attack as it sprang into life, Richie hadn't been sure of success at all. It had, if nothing else, bought them all a little more time. Smiling at the outrageousness of it all, the one problem it threw up concerned her greatly. The others... the group of King's Guards, were all outside the shield, and although slowly heading in this general direction, were still some way off. Tank was nowhere to be seen, while George, the dragon king, was right at this very moment dodging and ducking, rolling and weaving his way across the combat zone, heading directly for his best friend... FREDRIC! And then there was the dazzlingly bespoke naga that had come through the magical wormhole with Flash and the others. Assuming it was the naga king that had been previously mentioned, whoever he was, he was more than holding his own against dark dragon opponents, laying waste to nearly a dozen so far, and those were just the ones she'd witnessed. He'd need a safe haven, along with all the others. What she'd done was trap all of them here behind a shield, without any way to get out and help their allies. Oops.
Sprinting as fast as he could, the aching in his magically designed bones increased tenfold, almost forc
ing him to stop. Determinedly he ploughed on, knowing that only death itself would prevent him reaching the best friend he hadn't seen in decades. And while his spirit had been crushed by that wicked Manson dragon fellow, it was able to recover somewhat as he ran. Skipping around a small blast off to his left, he dipped out of the way as a string of electrically charged bolts came zipping past him. Sucking in another deep breath to fuel his falsehood of a body, George wondered where on earth the burning he could smell was coming from. Gracefully sliding to a halt directly in front of his friend, it was then he realised the source of the acrid smell. HIM! He was on fire, well... technically his clothes were on fire, but you know what I mean. Throwing himself to the cold, white floor, the current dragon king rolled over and over, all the time patting his arms and legs. After only a few seconds, the flames were out and so instead of standing, he knelt in front of Fredric, having to shout to be heard.
"My friend... it's so good to see you. I never gave up hope you know. I always thought we'd meet once again."
Nothing! The king's words had no effect at all on the motionless form of Fredric, whose head faced the ground, as a river's worth of tears trickled to the floor. Brushing aside the long and dirty matted hair, George reached in and put his hand gently beneath his friend's chin, slowly lifting his head up so that it was level with his.
