Bentwhistle the Dragon Box

by Paul Cude

  Usually well lit, before all this, anyway, the wide, high ceilinged corridors were masked in shadow, a foreboding presence staining their entirety, and as the three friends traversed them, nerves started to fray.

  "I have a really bad feeling about this," murmured DomCon, his dour demeanour blending in with his surroundings.

  "Everything's fine. They let us through didn't they?" replied Jar Man, his face neutral, staring straight ahead.

  "Something's not right. I think they might be on to us."

  About to answer his friend, the slightest telepathic tug on his mind was enough to still his mouth.

  "Both of you calm down and please... don't speak like this. We have no idea if anyone's watching. If I were them, I'd have rigged up some kind of underhand security. If they see anything out of the ordinary, it's over before it gets started. We must maintain our discipline; play our roles right up until the very end. Only then can we reveal ourselves, which hopefully will prove too late for them to do anything about. I would suggest from now on that there isn't any telepathic contact. Who knows what abilities these damn nagas have? If they have a knack for anything mind related, using telepathy might well give us away. I'll say it now and be done. It's an honour fighting alongside both of you, and know that I'll do all that I can to make sure our mission here is a success. Also, if push comes to shove, I have your backs, just as I know you both have mine. End all contact now. Good luck."

  And with that, silence returned to their minds, pierced only by the plod, plod, plod of Steel's huge feet on the brown, rocky surface as they made their way further into the enemy's stronghold.

  46 Macabre Magical Madness

  To most humans multitasking simply means doing two things at once, but to most dragons it means much more than two, something Amelia Battlehard was ably demonstrating right at this very moment. Hovering in place above what was left of her meagre force, she tried not to notice the dark dragons leaping into the air on the council building side of the bridge, or the flurry of nagas swarming across it. Instead she chose to bat away yet another sizzling cone of flame meant to incapacitate her, with the edge of the dark bladed sword she'd wrestled from the hands of a dying adversary. It had been some time since she'd hefted the weight of a bladed weapon in battle but the feel and possibilities came back to her almost instantly. So now she was defending not only herself, but the dragons below, swatting away attacks like a child would an errant bubble, as well as getting in a little punishment of her own when the chance arose. Swinging round to face the onrushing threat of a spiky looking dragon zipping quickly in her direction, murder written into his face, Captain Battlehard left it until the very last second to roll beneath the blunt and obvious attack, all the time maintaining the shield above her comrades below, not allowing them to become vulnerable to an aerial strike. With the 'disappointed off' attacking dark dragon already contemplating coming round for another pass, a valuable lesson in keeping up your concentration at all times was about to be handed out. Mid-way through her avoiding tumble, Amelia Battlehard's spatial awareness kicked into overdrive, alerting her to the fact that for a few brief moments there was nothing else in the air around her small group apart from the murderous dragon now flying right over her. It was a small gap to be sure, the reinforcements she'd spotted only moments ago would be here in no time at all, but the opportunity to rid the battlefield of one more enemy was just too good for her to pass up. Momentarily dropping the shield covering her allies, she soaked up the extra power that flooded her, and with two quick beats of her wings, threw herself after 'Spiky', who'd just started to bank into a very lazy turn. Pouring on as much speed as she could muster, she caught up with him as he came out of his turn, facing back from where he'd just attacked.

  'Where on earth did she go?' was his first thought, seeing the small band of his enemies undefended from above. 'Perhaps I did some damage to her after all. Or perhaps in avoiding my brilliant assault, she damaged herself,' were both subsequent thoughts on the matter at hand, as he looked this way and that, over both shoulders, at the air all around him. Either way, he decided, now was the time to go back and put these second-rate beings out of their misery once and for all. If only he'd noticed the underside of his wings being buffeted just that little bit more than usual. But like most of Manson's force of part-timers, he was more brawn than brain, something that would prove a little costly.

  Realising that whatever she was going to do, she'd have to do it fast, without hesitation she let the battle take her, and fuelled by thoughts of those already killed, and the danger to her monarch, she did something most dragons would find utterly impossible. Her burst of speed had put her directly beneath her spiky, would-be attacker. That was why he couldn't see her anywhere, and that was what was about to cost him his life. Instinctively Captain Battlehard, all the time mirroring her opponent's moves from below, inverted, difficult at the best of times, all but impossible when flying in the shadow of another dragon. But she pulled it off with consummate ease, being the forward thinking, risk taking daredevil that she was. With the delicate current of air now tickling her back, and looking straight up at her attacker's slightly larger body, any number of means to take him down whistled through her mind. In the end, she chose the most obvious, still wary of her unprotected charges. Clenching the talons on both her feet together, in one fell swoop she thrust them simultaneously into the wings of her enemy and raked them across, then down, as far as she dared. The result was immediate. In that instant, 'Spiky' had no idea what hit him, until his crazed and confused face passed within inches of a very pleased with herself Captain Battlehard, who watched the tumbling, out of control death dive with a great deal of satisfaction. Only then, and with one less enemy from a hundred to deal with, did her attention return to what she was supposed to be dealing with: covering those who she'd pledged to defend, in an effort to draw fire away from her king, hoping to at the very least give him a fighting chance. But to her absolute horror and astonishment, George, now looking magnificent in his natural dragon form, the rightful monarch of this failing dragon domain, had appeared in her position, directly above the small cluster she'd been defending, rallying his troops, preparing himself to take on all comers. Swiftly she plummeted in his direction, pulling up at the very last moment.

  "Sire... what are you doing here?"she enquired.

  "I'm doing what every great monarch would do in this position. I'm fighting with my kin. I wouldn't ask you to do anything I'm not willing to do. Look around you Amelia, what do you see?"

  Tentatively, the young captain glanced around. Before she had a chance to say anything, the king spoke up.

  "Evil everywhere," he announced, "all wanting to kill us, except for me of course. I'm sure they have very specific plans for me. Well, as far I'm concerned, it ends here... and NOW! No quarter given, no laying down arms, no surrender... WE FIGHT WITH EVERY LAST BREATH... for ourselves, for each other and for those defenceless creatures who can't do it themselves. Across the globe, the human population has virtually no idea what's going on here and exactly what impact it will have on them if we fail. And it will have an impact. They'll be hunted down, killed in packs and on their own, used by these atrocious beings as sport, slaves or for other perverse pleasures. I'll tell you now, that only happens over my dead body. With my dying breath I will defend and protect every last noble being on this wonderful, beautiful, bountiful planet. I'm in charge, and so help me God, I'm going to make these scum sucking cockwombles (he'd heard Peter and his friends use this world, and had instantly taken a liking to it) pay for every single dragon and human they've slain."

  A little taken aback at first, the start of a small smile slid across Captain Battlehard's scale encrusted face at the thought of the king having his mojo back. The passion and commitment with which he spoke roused her hopes, and although it didn't quite fill her with confidence, mainly because of just how badly outnumbered they were, she did at least know that dying for this dragon and the cause he supported was not o
nly the right thing to do, but the only thing to do. Glancing down, she realised those below her had heard every single word and were on exactly the same page. As Manson's reinforcements started to arrive, George and Captain Battlehard hovered back to back, covering their buddies beneath them, readying themselves for the onslaught.

  "RICH!... we need to get out there!" he screamed. "Flash is hurt!"

  Swallowing awkwardly, she continued to let the magic from the necklace that Yoyo had thrust around her neck flow continually through her, using it to power the shield under which they all sheltered. Steadying herself and ignoring the build up of heat not only in her hands from the dagger, but now around her throat, she moved her head barely an inch to look one of her two best friends in the eyes.

  "We can't do it Pete. You know that. I'm sorry."

  "But..."

  "PETER! Dropping the shield means instant death for all of us. What would you have me do?"

  She hadn't meant to be so harsh, but that's exactly what she had to be, having seen the sacrifice Flash had made for his king, watched in slow motion as his burnt and smoking body toppled to the floor, fought off the need to cry out in pain and ignored the urge to drop the shield and go to his rescue. Now she felt trapped in the most precarious position she'd ever known. Every fibre of her being called out for her to fight, use all her magic to harm those vile, wretched monsters for all that they'd done, and all that they continued to do. The merest glimpse over her shoulder, however, told her to stay put and continue to keep Yoyo and his young dragons, Hook, Janice and of course Peter, safe, by maintaining the shield that was still being constantly bombarded by onrushing dragons in the air, and nagas on the ground. It was an impossible situation.

  "I'm sorry Pete," she called out, turning once again to look out at the battlefield, "but I just can't do it. You know that, maybe not in your heart, but your head fully understands."

  And truthfully, he did, he just didn't want it to be so.

  "What can I do to help, Rich?"

  "Continue to funnel your magic and keep my hands and throat cool. If you can do that, it'll be easier for me to concentrate. And if you spot anything that you think might help get us out of this situation, don't hesitate to let me know."

  Nodding his agreement and understanding, he trickled the tiniest amount of healing magic across his friend's hands and coated her neck, absorbing the residual build up of heat, all the time holding the hand of the woman he loved, hoping to hell that she was having better luck attacking than they currently were.

  'So many targets,' he thought, momentarily confused. Immediately she agreed with him, but her firm and concise thinking was exactly what he needed to regain perspective, regain focus and remind him of his purpose.

  Their bond was extraordinary and had reached dizzying new heights, getting stronger with each second that passed. Both could read the other's mind, hear the other's thoughts as if they were right there, and now they were starting to sense emotions across the connection. It was truly awe inspiring, at least that's how Janice viewed it. For Fu-ts'ang it was all of that and more, with the more being set free, after centuries of being locked away in Gee Tee's magical vault deep beneath the Mantra Emporium. Like a bird finally being released from its long term cage, the ecstasy Fu-ts'ang felt at coursing through the air, the wind whipping across the razor sharp edge of his cold, cutting blade, was like nothing he'd ever felt. And of course Janice was now starting to feel it, something so rapturous it was hard to ignore. But ignore it she did, all, of course, for the sake of the mission.

  "You have to continue," she urged the dragon slaying weapon from the relative safety of her warm and slightly strange mind.

  "There are just too many of them. Perhaps we should flee?"

  "FLEE?!" bellowed Janice's harsh response. "Even if I wanted to, how would I go about that? I'm trapped behind this shield and without me, your essence would go back to being entombed in an inanimate object. PLEASE! We need to fight, not just for ourselves, but for every other being here. We're making a difference, you and I. We can continue to do so."

  Not a selfish being, just one that had been lonely and lost for so long, and one who'd do practically anything not to go back to his previous state, her words struck a chord. It wasn't just the way she said them, more the passion and the feeling behind them. Intoxicating was the only way for him to describe it, so with all thoughts of escape put to one side, he shot straight through the back of the nearest naga that had been pounding the shield with cream coloured bolts of magic, not satisfied until his eerie blue tip exited the scales at the front of its chest cavity. Achieving this under the petite bar worker's guidance, he pulled out at speed and as the naga's dead body slumped to the ground, both of them selected the next target, before his dynamic and deadly streamlined shape disappeared swiftly in that direction.

  Explosive magic ringing in his ears, wayward projectiles zipping all around him, he rocked up right next to his target, sliding to a halt on the shiny white flooring. Immediately he wrapped his tail around as much of the body as he could and without wasting any time at all, he lowered his head on to the being's forehead, only to feel... NOTHING! Whatever should have been there was gone, almost as if nothing there had ever existed. This, he knew, was definitely not the case. After all, this one selfless being had risked his own life to rescue him from the confines of the icy prison in Antarctica, giving him hope for not only his future, but for his entire race.

  At one with the ancient magic that flowed through every molecule of his being, he commanded it to flood the smouldering body and seek out what he was looking for. Very slowly, a crystallising blue haze started to create a shell on the motionless human shape, working its way down from the head, until every last millimetre had been covered. Still nothing!

  Acutely aware of the danger surrounding him, a sense of ethereal power closing in on his position startled him away from the task at hand. With his head still planted firmly on Flash's brow, he glanced across to face the threat. Sure enough, a barrage of flaming orange spears headed his way at speed, their intense heat causing them to shimmer as they cut through the air. Bringing up his right hand, momentarily he held it fully open, stretching his fingers as wide as he could, seeming to get a lock on the target heading swiftly towards him. Simultaneously closing his fingers, locking them into a tiny fist, the fiery projectiles seemed to get sucked in towards each other before causing one hell of an explosion, about thirty metres from where he crouched. Shielding his eyes from the blast, he felt an array of fast moving magical shards pepper his body and tail. Only then was he grateful that he'd had the forethought to offer up the extremity to his would-be rescuer for protection.

  Interspersed with the recurring ground quakes, tons of debris started to fall from the surrounding walls and the hidden ceiling, making the already lethal battlefield of the king's private residence deadlier than ever. In the last thirty seconds or so, a tidal wave of rubble had slipped down the wall adjacent to where the light sided force were shying away behind their extremely well defended shield, and with the kind of force usually only associated with Mother Nature, had washed away half a dozen unsuspecting dark dragons who were caught so off guard they hadn't even had the chance to take to the air, providing a temporary respite for the beleaguered force.

  But what the huge fight gave with one hand, it easily took with the other. From out of nowhere, crashing through the air at quite a rate, tons of speeding debris shaken loose from the ceiling nearly set the air on fire as it plummeted down towards the circular group of dragons atop which the king and Amelia Battlehard fought back to back. In the end, it was only George's outstanding awareness and battle hardened experience that had saved them. That and the fact that as a unit, they'd all instantly obeyed his command to move, in the end suffering no more than a few scratches and bruises. Luck, at least for the time being, was well and truly on their side.

  A fast moving blur, that's all anyone would have seen, and that's including all the beings with magical
ly enhanced senses, so fast were they moving. Wrapped around each other, on opposing sides of the fight, each looking for leverage over the other, just the tiniest of edges, hoping to gain the merest advantage, in this very moment the ultimate dysfunctional family was baring its teeth, quite literally in this case. With both of their personal shields having melded into one, flickering and sparking as they crashed together, constantly creating weak points in some prime spots, failing altogether in others, the two combatants, father and daughter, went at it hammer and tongs. Grinding to a halt momentarily against a huge mountain of rubble that had fallen from the ceiling, Fredric had the upper hand as he lay on top of his daughter, left hand pinning her right hand, the thumb on his right hand only a centimetre or so away from his daughter's left eye as he tried to gouge her with all his might, all the time avoiding the venomous, vicious viper strikes from the serpents her hair had changed into. Just the thought of his daughter being able to generate these horrors was enough to make him feel nauseous. It was disgusting, disgraceful, despicable and on most levels truly terrifying. How the best part of him had ever turned into that, he had absolutely no idea.

  Quelling the panic rising within her, she summoned all her strength to escape... but it wasn't enough. Desperate times called for desperate measures and so, unable to break free from his grip, she thrust her head upwards and bit down on his thumb as hard as she could. Instantaneously he yelled in agony and wriggled what remained of the bloody stump out of her mouth, his body reacting as it should, shooting his hand up out of the way, but not before the passing fingernails raked at the criss-crossing purple lines that tormented her lunacy ravaged face. This time it was her turn to let out a cry, much to her father's satisfaction. But that spark of pain provided the impetus for her to fight back, because of course she was used to the pain; it had been a constant companion for as long as she could remember, and now felt as though it were her friend. Instead of making her weaker and fearful, it actually made her stronger and more determined than ever to put her father down, once and for all.