by Paul Cude
"I know you're in there, and I know you're hurt. And I think I can guess why. But you need to snap out of it right now. We're in need of your extra special skill sets. I don't think we'll last much longer without you. Do you think you can help us?"
Peter's grandfather's inert form barely moved. If not for the soft, gentle breathing and the steady stream of tears, he might well have been mistaken for a larger than life statue.
Deflecting away a few powerful supernatural bursts heading his way with just the wave of his hand, George was still a force to be reckoned with, even without the ring, his magical companion for so long. Single-mindedly he fought off the blistering attacks that were converging on them both, his resolve determined to keep them safe. But as one part of his mind dedicated itself to doing this, another much smaller part wondered what he could do to shake his friend out of his shocked, trance-like state. If he didn't do something quick, then the rescue efforts of those that came to save him would all have been in vain.
"Well? Wyvern got your tongue?" ventured Tank into the thick, all encompassing darkness, somewhat fed up at not having had a reply yet.
"Well... what?" a much softer, sombre voice came back.
"You claim to be sentient, to be able to make informed decisions based on all the experience you've accumulated over the centuries..."
"I am sentient," beseeched the ring firmly, "and my experience makes me a better judge than almost anyone else on the planet."
"If that's so," replied Tank, "then tell me about Manson's group. Is it right that they've killed and maimed so many innocents... not just dragons, but humans as well? And what about their vision of the future, surely you must know about that. There won't be any room for the ordinary dragons that currently inhabit what's left of the domain. They'll be slaughtered by the thousands, which compared with what awaits the humans on the surface, is probably quite a good option. They'll be hunted for sport... doesn't that seem like a pleasant way to go?" Tank added sarcastically, his patience finally starting to run out with his magically enhanced captor.
"You don't know that's what'll happen."
"I DON'T KNOW?!" Tank screamed. "I DON'T KNOW?! I've been there, seen the pyres of dead dragon bodies set on fire, witnessed the sheer cruelty of his minions, and been a victim of what he has planned for every being on this planet. DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME I DON'T KNOW!"
Letting his words ring off into the distance, Tank's hands and legs shook with the rage he felt, his temper spilling over. Lacking clarity of thought, he only knew one thing: it was time to get out of here and back to his friends. This had been nothing more than a huge waste of his time. While the being controlling the ring might have power to wield, it certainly didn't have the right attitude, as far as he was concerned. Gathering his thoughts and any remaining spark of magic, the rugby playing dragon's mind turned to just how he might leave, hoping to hell he didn't have to fight.
With the young dragon Wiz watching over him, Peter placed his hands on both of her injured friends' bodies. To say he wasn't sure of what he was doing was something of an understatement. Of course he'd had rudimentary medical training, back at the Purbeck Peninsula nursery ring, but that was a long time ago and it had only covered the very basics, such as what to do in an emergency, something that in peacetime rarely presents itself to any dragon at all. And so here he was, two young dragons on the edge of life itself, ready to drop into the chasm of death, because he needed Yoyo to heal Flash to give them any sort of chance at turning the tide of the raging battle going on all about them.
Remembering what he'd been taught all those decades ago, the young hockey player did the most obvious thing he could... he flooded both of them with magic. Normally he'd struggle on this front, but his reserves were almost fully topped up because he hadn't been able to use any supernatural power over the last few days due to being constrained by those damn binders. And since the alea had broken him free, he'd used very little. In theory it should at least give them half a chance, as flooding them with magic should boost their immune systems and allow their own bodies to start repairing the devastating injuries they'd suffered. Both dragons moaned simultaneously, startling both Wiz and Peter.
"What have you done to them? She demanded.
"Nothing. I mean not nothing... no. I've flooded them with energy. It should help them heal."
"Is it? Is it helping them heal?"
And this was where it got tricky. He didn't know. How could he? After all he wasn't a dedicated healer like Yoyo. To reach even the most inexperienced level of healer took many, many decades. All he was doing was guessing. It was all a sham to buy Flash some time with Yoyo. To say he felt bad did no justice at all to the meaning of the word. About to 'fess up and take whatever he had coming to him from the concerned and spirited Wiz, it was then that Yoyo spoke through gritted teeth.
"It's okay Peter. You've done a good job showering them in your magic. But I can take over now."
Not wanting to... really not wanting to, because he was afraid of the answer, he just had to ask.
"What about Flash?"
Yoyo's face kind of grimaced.
"Don't worry, I've got him covered too. Boosted by the laminium in the chains around Flash's chest, I'm more than confident I can heal all three of them. Why don't you see if your friend Richie needs some help?"
Never having been more relieved, he left Wiz and Yoyo, heading over towards his friend who had created the most magnificent shield around them all. Glancing down at the dagger in her hand, he just hoped it held enough magical energy for her to power their defence indefinitely.
Juggling five balls in the air at once was the only thing Yoyo could compare with what he was doing. Just as he'd gotten the hang of regenerating a new lower leg for Flash, two of his happy gang had turned up with life threatening injuries, and there was just no way he couldn't attend to them immediately. But that was the beauty of the laminium chains... he didn't have to pick and choose. With so much magic and mana available to him, he could continue to heal all three of them at once. It wasn't easy mind you... far from it in fact. He'd had to compartmentalise his mind into three sections... one for each of his patients. In the first one, he continued with the leg; that was coming along nicely, even if he did say so himself. Next, he began to heal Trayrin, the more badly injured of the two. This was beyond difficult. Her internal organs had been severely damaged, so much so that there wasn't even an option to patch them up. They had to be fully repaired, here and now. And so that's what the second part of him was doing. Montague or Monty as he was known was next. Not as badly injured as Trayrin, he still had significant damage. A broken jaw, shattered kneecap, broken left arm and a perforated spleen. He probably wouldn't die from the damage, but his condition wouldn't allow him to be mobile or move in any way, shape or form, which wasn't ideal given their current situation.
And so, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of supernatural power deluging his prehistoric body, Yoyo went about his work, thinking that without the ravaging battle they were caught in the middle of, and the crisis that could involve the end of the earth as they knew it, he could hardly remember being happier.
That could all change at a moment's notice.
Most of his dark force settled for attacking the remaining group of King's Guards that were trying with every step to edge closer to the main group that had somehow managed to hide themselves behind a huge, formidable defensive shield. Just as they should, he thought, not exactly pleased with how things had gone, but slightly happier now that events seemed to be getting back under control, with the balance tilted much more in his favour. His mood, however, could change in the blink of an eye, something those who fought under his banner could attest to. That was how the madness worked... never predictable, which was, of course, its very nature. Lucid right at this very moment, he brushed himself down and turned just in time to be greeted by his queen. Resembling a giddy schoolgirl, she threw herself into his arms. For his part, he caught her, holding on to the embrace f
or quite some time. When their bodies parted, they lowered their foreheads towards each other, making telepathic communication that much easier.
"I'm sorry for my part in all of this. I should have reacted quicker. He caught me off guard," whispered Earth deep inside her love's head.
"The arrival of the newcomers through that blasted portal certainly threw a spanner into the works. Never mind. Things seem to be much more under control. Don't concern yourself about getting caught out. Let's just end all this, so that we can start ruling over our new subjects once and for all."
Smiling wickedly, she whispered a long, snake-like, "YEEEEEESSSSSSS!!!" and bounded off into the distance.
Through the relentless onslaught of magical attacks and from her position above her circling troops, she could just make out the one being she'd been tasked with protecting, off in the distance, kneeling beside a ragged looking human shape, draped in glistening chains, having appeared through the magical wormhole with all the others. Briefly she wondered what he was doing there, but almost instantly cast that thought aside. Whatever the king's reasons, she knew better than to question them. If it was important to him, then it was important to her. And with them both attracting additional attention from the enemy's force, telepathically she sent out a shout for the meagre force she commanded to engage more and more of their vile opponents, in the disillusioned hope that it might keep the dragon monarch safe for just a tiny bit longer. Spitting roaring flame at a dive bombing dragon off to her left, Amelia Battlehard couldn't help but wonder how much longer they could hold out. Unless reinforcements showed up straight out of nowhere, just as they had done previously, then they were all fighting a losing battle. And with nowhere to retreat to, it could only end one way.
Barely able to contain his temper, Tank took a long, deep breath and composed the words he wanted to say. For him, time had run out, having already given the ring's sentience enough time to respond, he'd heard absolutely nothing back. So it was time to leave, and not knowing how, it was time to ask.
"I wish to leave this place," he declared. "Please can you show me how?"
As his words floated off into the distance, silence returned. Controlling his breathing whilst suppressing what little magic he had, that was just itching to escape, inside a worry that he'd offended his captor or host, depending on how you looked at it, nagged away at him. About to repeat the exact same words, he was slightly startled to hear a reply.
"You're a very interesting character."
Not sure of what to make of it, all he could think of saying was,
"Thank you."
"You talk with such passion and belief, which I find quite remarkable and intoxicating in someone so young."
This time Tank remained quiet.
"Are we taking it in turns to stay silent?"
"I'm not at all sure what you want me to say. I'd like to be able to get back to my friends and help them in their fight."
"What if I told you it would make no difference? What if I told you you're doomed to fail?"
"I'd still want to return to them and try."
"But why chase a lost cause? You could stay here indefinitely, safe and sound."
"I won't desert my friends, and would gladly lay down my life for theirs."
"Even if they're going to die anyway?"
"In a heartbeat."
"I believe what you're saying to be one hundred percent true... extraordinary!"
"Please can you help me return now?"
The ring went on...
"The king was once like you, you know."
A puzzled expression that shouldn't have showed up at all given just how dark it was, wormed its way across the young rugby player's face.
"You're surprised at that?"
"Which king? Do you mean George?"
"Ah... yes, I'd forgotten that you are one of the few to know his true history. George... he was once like you... possessed of a fierce and undying loyalty to those around him. Never afraid to stand up for what was right. Constantly putting himself in harm's way to save those that couldn't save themselves. All mightily admirable qualities in any being, don't you think?"
"Sure."
"But slowly, over time... things changed. Maybe because of the position he found himself in, or just because of the political circumstances surrounding him... who knows? Those qualities were buried, hidden away deep within his very being. It made it hard for me to like him, to share my thoughts and experiences with him. I purposely became withdrawn, occasionally withholding my power, purely out of spite, just when he needed it most. I knew it was wrong, but I just couldn't help myself."
If anyone had been able to see through the all encompassing blackness, they'd have seen Tank, mouth hanging open, listening intently to every word that was being spoken. Of course, they couldn't.
"Over time we drifted apart... stupid really, given our bond and joint pledges to protect not only the dragon domain, but the human world as well. He threw up robust mental barriers that effectively closed me off from any of his thoughts. I returned the favour to the same extent. Tit for tat, some might say."
"Surely the two of you could have worked things out?" blurted Tank unexpectedly.
"We could have... should have, even. But we didn't. Our differences became irreconcilable, and for my part in that I'm hugely sorry. And if that wasn't bad enough, suddenly humanity and dragonkind find themselves facing an extinction level event. How could I have possibly known all this would happen? I just assumed George would at some point discard me, and lock me away for the next dragon monarch. I never thought it would come to this."
"It's not too late to do the right thing."
"Says you."
"It isn't. Join the fight, right now. You could be the difference between winning and losing."
"I think all you're describing is losing. And if that's the case, then almost certainly I'll end up in the hands of that psychopath Manson, forced to do his bidding, being partly to blame for an inconceivable number of deaths. What kind of fate is that?"
"But at least you'll have tried, given your all. If we go on to lose and you end up in Manson's hands anyway, not only will you be burdened by everything you've mentioned, but for all eternity you'll wonder: what if? Join us now and help make the difference. Together we can all send this creep and his goons packing."
One giant swing of his tail felled yet another dragon stupid enough to attack him from the ground. It was a good job for him that they hadn't peppered him with assaults from the air, as they were doing to so many others throughout the chamber. Riding the shockwave of the huge, prehistoric beast crashing to the floor, Vasuki sank his needle sharp teeth through the dragon's tough, scaly neck, clamping them as far shut as he could. Like a drill striking oil for the first time, brilliant, bright green blood gushed up into the air, showering him immediately. With the beast dead and the air tasting of spent magic, the naga king slithered off at speed, concerned about just how exposed he was, here in the middle of the makeshift battlefield. However, he had nearly reached his intended target.
Batting away yet another charging dragon, George, the current dragon king, whirled around ready to discharge yet more magic and mayhem, only to find an onrushing naga heading his way. As pure, ethereal energy flickered from his fingertips, something about this particular being gave him cause for concern. Sky blue around his head and gills, gradually the blue on the snake-like beast got darker the closer it got to the tip of its tail. It wasn't just that. It looked somehow... regal. And then it hit him. It was the naga king... who'd come through the gateway with Fredric and the others. His attention had waned somewhat, focused only on the fact that he'd been reunited with his best friend after all this time, even if it was in the most dire of circumstances. Commanding the power within him to stand down, he lowered his arms to his side, trying to make himself as least threatening as possible. It seemed to work.
Sliding to a halt, using his tail as a brake, Vasuki bowed his head in George's direction. The drago
n monarch responded in kind.
"I ammmm Vasuki," announced the king of everything naga.
"George, Your Majesty."
"Whaaaat issss wrong wittthh Fredriiiiic? Why doessss heee juussst kneelll theeere?"
It took him a moment to adjust to the naga king's speech, but that's all.
"Truth be told, I'm not quite sure. I could take an educated guess, but that's all it would be. He won't respond to me no matter what I do. I've tried contacting him telepathically, but it makes no difference. In all honesty, I'm at a loss."
"Mayyyyy I?"
"Of course," answered George, a little wary.
Slithering forward, Vasuki leaned in towards the seemingly paralysed Fredric. Closing his eyes, whilst swaying ever so slightly, the reptilian started to mumble what George assumed were words... assumed because they came across to him as just sounds, and strange ones at that. Guttural and instinctive, they did at least cause the hairs on his arms to stand on end. Willing his friend to return to the present, the dragon monarch wondered just how it was that Vasuki knew Fredric's real name. Assuming they'd formed some sort of captive's bond whilst imprisoned, at the very thought of this, his heart nearly imploded as a crushing cloud of sorrow threatened to overwhelm him. Bravely, and while staving off two more magical attacks from the air, he pushed his feelings away, firmly shutting them out, knowing that dealing with them here and now was not the answer. On the lookout for more danger, he willed his friend to snap out of it.
Breathing the biggest sigh of relief he could ever remember, Yoyo wiped a whole lake of sweat from his forehead, and whilst continuing to heal the two young dragons he thought of as his own in the compartmentalised portions of his mind, he opened his eyes and looked down at the patient he'd given his all and more to. Flash looked serene... sleeping like an angel. Of course it was the healer's doing. After all, if he was going to build the ex-Crimson Guard a brand new leg out of nothing, he couldn't have his courageous friend wriggling around. But it was done, and from the outside it looked as good as new. But the proof, as they say, was very much in the pudding. More than a little concerned, he would have liked to have Flash rest some more, but the current situation they all found themselves in would not permit it... and so without further ado, Yoyo woke his friend up, hoping against hope that all would be well.
