by Paul Cude
"What can we do to turn the tide of everything that's happening, Rich?"
Aware of his presence next to her for some time, she'd been lost in powering the shield and keeping them safe up until now. It was only when he spoke she realised quite how drained she felt, despite the laminium from the necklace and the dagger augmenting her own reserves. Head twisting to face her friend, she shook it from side to side to loosen up her neck muscles that had started to tighten. Wishing for a soothing massage, once again she turned to face her friend.
"What do you mean?"
"We can't stay like this forever? Can we?" he asked.
"There's enough power in the laminium for the time being," she replied.
"And then what? The shield runs out and that's it. We're just ripped apart by that horrific force continually bombarding us at the moment. Shouldn't we at least try and fight back? What about the king, Flash, the naga king and... my grandfather?"
Ignoring the strain powering the shield had on her body, Richie's face broke into a sympathetic smile.
"I've tried to come up with something, I really have. But powering this monster of a barrier takes a lot out of me, not just physically, but mentally as well. It's as if my head's full of a fog that I just can't clear, no matter what I do. As you may well have surmised, I haven't been able to come up with anything that either allows us to go on the offensive, or gives us the ability to help those outside the shield we care about, without risking life and limb for everyone already trapped with us. I'm open to any suggestions."
"What about extending part of the shield outwards to encapsulate either the king and his group, or the naga king and Flash?"
Pete, I'm already at about the limit of what I can do. Even a tiny little bit more, like creating that hole for Flash, pushes me right to the very edge and risks the shield collapsing totally. I'm sorry."
"It's alright. It was a bit of a stupid suggestion anyway."
"Not at all," Richie replied. "We need to think on our feet, pool our resources, think outside the box if we're to do anything but die here today. Perhaps you should ask Yoyo and the others if they have anything we could use. I'd do it quick though, if I were you. There's a whole new wave of reinforcements massing outside the council building on the other side of the bridge. If they get over here, I don't see the outcome being anything but us dying in the most horrific of ways."
Nodding at his friend, he turned, brushed past the blonde haired human he loved more than life itself and rushed off in Yoyo's direction, hoping that the experienced dragon healer had something useful to offer.
For a moment, the king's back had become vulnerable. Amelia Battlehard, hanging in the air behind him, had taken a sword strike to her cervical ribs at the base of her neck. A painful scream from directly behind was what alerted the monarch to his fighting partner's dangerous dilemma. Ignoring the pressure from several mental attacks that were nibbling at his consciousness, George unleashed a wave of pure energy from his bruised and bloodied fingertips, in the direction of two dragons intent on having his head. The magic honed in on its intended target, bursting the creatures' subcutaneous air sacs that are located deep beneath the skin, acting as bellows not only for the lungs, but to pneumatisize (fill with air) the bones. Two simultaneous ear ringing 'SPLATS!' accompanied the gore infested, bloody explosions, as internal organs drenched the surrounding area.
Immediate threat seemingly dealt with, the king turned to his collaborator in a world of significant hurt. Wrestling Amelia's sword from her limp hand, with all the strength he could muster George thrust it up into the jaw of the prehistoric beast that had dropped down out of the air and was about to take a bite out of the fearless captain. The look of horror as the beast tried to recoil was accompanied by a satisfying gurgle as it spiralled out of control towards the deck. Knitting together the captain's wound as best he could without stopping to take a look, the king thickened the air around another would-be attacker's windpipe, causing him to suffocate mid-flight, and watched as the speeding body of his foe dropped straight onto a particularly vicious naga fighting one of the guards below. The wicked looking serpent never knew what hit it.
Really, George should have known better, being the seasoned fighter that he was, but his genuine concern for Captain Battlehard's welfare momentarily blinded him to the danger of the situation, leaving him vulnerable to a surprise strike from one of the dragons that had tumbled to the ground some time ago.
Clambering out from underneath numerous corpses and extraneous body parts, still clutching the dark bladed sword that he'd been handed some weeks ago, he wiped away the green blood oozing from a vertical cut that ran from just above his right eye to beneath his chin. Caught off guard, the assault that had started and finished with said cut, knocked him unconscious, sending him into a dizzying spiral before crashing firmly to the ground, all of which he remembered very little of. What he did remember though, was the mission, and to whom he'd pledged his loyalty. So with that in mind, and infuriated beyond belief, he scouted about the immediate area to see exactly how he could repay those that had inflicted the hurt he currently felt. Not fifty metres away, he saw the circular group of dragons made up of a lone councillor, what remained of the King's Guard, and of course Amelia Battlehard and the king. Fighting for all they were worth, sizzling shields protecting the main group around their circumference, Captain Battlehard and the current dragon monarch defended them aerially as supernatural magic detonated all around them. Wading through the broken carcasses, his head still ringing, the sound of the raging battle alone increasing the pain he felt from his headache, the dark dragon set his sights on destroying his enemy's defensive line, determined to do as much damage as possible. And then he spotted his chance. The female of the two fighters situated at the top of what looked like a dome, had unexpectedly taken a sword to the base of her neck. Watching intently, he waited to see what would happen next. He doubted her partner would intervene, because it would mean leaving a weakness, an opportunity, one to be exploited for those looking to do so, and he seemed way too savvy for that. Or was he? As those thoughts finished playing through his head, unbelievably the dragon (he had no idea it was the monarch, as he'd been one of the first to fly over from the council building once things had already kicked off) did exactly what he thought impossible, dropping his opponents in an instant before rushing to the female's aid. This was it, he thought, this was his chance. Without hesitation, he dropped into a crouch and, using the attacking dark force of nagas on the ground as cover, sprinted for all he was worth towards the dome, covering the distance in all but a split second. Coming up behind the ring of nagas spitting poison, battling with swords and magic, all the time trying to take out the beings that formed the ever moving dome's magical shell, in one fell swoop he leapt into the air and, hugging the surface of the shield that curved upwards, he snuck up at speed towards both hovering dragons, approaching the male from behind.
Closing Captain Battlehard's wound properly, eager for them both to retake their defensive positions, George felt a surge of pride at how well the dragon he now tended to had fought. Surely they could prevail if each and every one of them battled like that. And then he sensed it. Astonished, dismayed and terrified all at the same time, he knew without a doubt that it was far too late for him to do anything about the sneak attack one of the dark dragons had just launched. Barely able to turn half way towards his adversary, he wondered if this was just the beginning of the end, as the tip of the matt black blade thrust down towards his neck, a smile of deep satisfaction etched across the unhinged dragon's face at just the very thought of the killing stroke. Stuck in a moment, George steeled himself to meet his maker, if such a thing should ever happen. But something in that instant changed. The look of utter delight on the dark dragon's face transformed at first into puzzlement, followed immediately by anguish, as the apex of a frost shrouded cutting edge burst through his chest, hissing and spluttering, throwing tiny particles of cold into the air all around it. Mesmeris
ed completely by not only the beauty of the weapon, but by the cool, elegant blanket of brilliant, white frost that continuously circled the blade, it was only the echoing clang of the dastardly, black sword bouncing off the top of the shield, that startled the king back to reality. Shaking himself alert, he wondered who had just saved his life, hoping to see Flash's smiling face appear from behind the deceased form of the prehistoric monster that had come so near to ending his life. But he was about to be disappointed. With the tiniest of wriggles, the blade pulled itself free of the monster that it had just impaled, allowing the despicable creature to slump on to the shield, spewing brilliant, thick, green blood this way and that. With the dragon out of the way, the futuristic foil floated closer to the king, all the time pointing upwards, as if to say it offered no threat to the incumbent monarch of this world.
'Fascinating,' thought the king, eyes glued to the most amazing weapon he'd ever seen. 'Does it have a will of its own? Is someone controlling it? How was it made, and by whom?' All these questions scurried through his mind at almost the speed of light. At the moment though, the answers would have to wait, because right at that second his tingling, magic enhanced sense of danger kicked in, shocking him out of his reverie, forcing him back to reality, which in this case represented half a dozen murderous looking dragons, all speeding towards the top of the dome, all looking to tear the duo apart. Readying his ethereal birthright, George watched with a certain amount of amusement as the weapon seemingly bowed in front of him before turning to face his attackers, and then zipped off at speed towards them. Mere moments later, when it was time for the king to use the power he'd already prepared, half a dozen had been whittled down to two, something he was not only grateful for, but more than confident he could cope with. And so ripping off one of his attacker's wings, whilst continually blasting the other with freezing cold darts of ice, he wished his ultramodern ally good luck, as a part of him wondered if the famed master mantra maker had anything to do with it. He wouldn't have been surprised to find that he had.
Eyes closed, bathed in an inner tranquillity she'd never, ever known before, the love of Peter's life was bowled over at having saved the dragon king's soul through her newly found bond with the ancient blade. Fu-ts'ang... not quite so much. In his case, it was more a mutual respect kind of thing; having taken the tiniest of glimpses into the soul of the dragon monarch, he knew beyond any doubt that he was a righteous, kind and good being. Whether that was enough to turn the tide of what was happening here, he had no idea. The cold, logical part of him screamed out that it wasn't, and that if he didn't leave now he'd be captured, put in the hands of these foul and wicked criminals and used for dreadful and despicable deeds. He might have been right, but he just couldn't leave. Besides, he wasn't able to go on his own, he'd have to take the girl with him, and having shared her memories and feelings across their link, he knew there was no way in hell she was leaving, not without her love and the rest of their friends. Accepting that it was now a full on fight to the death, Fu-ts'ang continued on his destructive rampage, fulfilling his purpose, destroying evil in all its forms without hesitation, all the time having one eye on friends and allies strewn across the battlefield with a view to protecting them at all costs, thanks in no small part to the human whose mind he shared.
Sliding to a halt on the shiny marble next to Yoyo, he waited patiently for the experienced Australian healer to finish his ministrations, gawping at the stunning looking ring that now adorned his right hand. It didn't take long.
"PETER!" exclaimed Yoyo, "what on earth can I do for you?"
Grinning inanely, the young hockey playing dragon relayed Richie's appeal, asking his friend if he had any idea of exactly how they could get themselves out of this seemingly impossible spot and take the fight to those that were trying their best to crush them. Scratching his chin whilst at the same time wriggling his jaw, Yoyo pondered Peter and Richie's request.
"No, no... that wouldn't work at all," he mused. "Hmmm... maybe, maybe... NO! What about... no, that probably wouldn't cut it. Hang on a second... that might just work. Yes... out of all the options, that's the one that gives us the best chance... I'm sure of it."
"Sure of what?" urged Peter
"I've nearly healed every dragon here. We're almost all ready to re-enter the fight. What about if we kept the shield up around us and, as one, moved out into the battlefield, all the time attacking, making our way towards those we care about, able to offer protection and a temporary safe harbour?"
It wasn't quite the idea Peter had been hoping for.
"It would never work. Richie says she can't maintain the shield whilst moving, even powered by what's left of the laminium in the necklace and the dagger."
"I wasn't thinking of letting our superstar leader do it all by herself. We can share the load around. Now that they're healed there's enough of us to take on some of your friend's burden, and knowing my lot as I do, I suspect they'll all have a few ideas about how to build on the shield that she's developed. It won't be easy, but I do believe it's most certainly doable. What do you think?"
"If you're sure, then it sounds good to me. I'll let Richie know."
"Just give me a couple of minutes to finish up here and inform the others of the plan. When I'm ready, I'll contact Richie telepathically."
"Sure thing," replied Peter. "Good luck!"
"Right back atcha!" remarked Yoyo, smiling.
With that, Peter turned and headed back towards his friend, buoyed ever so slightly by Yoyo's plan, knowing from all his life experiences and in particular the hockey, that if you work together you can far exceed what you can do alone. Deep down inside, he just hoped it would be enough to overcome these insurmountable odds.
Arms stretched wide open, standing atop the largest pile of rubble within the private residence, Manson, eyes closed, willed his force on, willed them over the bridge, willed them out of the council building, all in an effort to finish things off. Bored and unable to see how this would end in anything but a victory for him, thoughts of how he would dominate this world, ruling not only the humans, but what would be left of the dragons as well, played through his mind. They'd be his slaves until the end of days, subjugated and robbed of any life they would ever have had. Part of him especially liked the thought of using humans as sport. Dragons chasing humans through cities both on the surface and here underground, with a specified destination in mind... If the human reaches it before the dragon catches up with him, then he or she may prevail that little bit longer, perhaps to try again another day. Should the dragon catch up with the human... that would then be another matter, with a tasty morsel of a snack always being appreciated, no matter what time of day. In his experience, human flesh tended to taste a little like chicken, rather nice if chargrilled. Once he was king, he'd make sure it was available everywhere, twenty four / seven, for every one of the beings that had helped him achieve his goal. There'd be queues at slaughterhouses a mile long as they looked to keep up with the demand for delicious human kebabs. Children, he found, were especially tasty. Stomach rumbling at the mere thought of food, gently, and very slowly, he allowed the magic to flow out of him, to wander through the air, connecting with as many of the beings that had pledged him their allegiance as he could, implanting one thought, and one thought alone. ATTACK, ATTACK, ATTACK!
Rolling like giant marbles through everything in their paths, Earth and her father tumbled at speed, fighting hand to hand, each once again doing their best to physically hurt the other... gouging, scratching, punching and kicking, with the deranged daughter even at one point head butting her father, much to his astonishment. Spinning across the battlefield in blind panic, their rounded shields colliding with corpses and cadavers, debris and rubble, and even the odd living being or two, who were either too consumed by their actions or just too slow to get out of the way, the dysfunctional relatives fought tooth and nail, both firmly believing in their righteous cause, Earth long since lost to the madness that consumed her.
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nbsp; Pitching forward, the crazed witch lunged at her father, driving him back, whilst at the same time connecting her hand with his face. It was more of a backhanded slap than anything else, but it carried the weight of just some of her magic, rattling his eyes and everything else within his skull. Dazed for but a heartbeat, suddenly all the breath was forced out of him by a violent knee in the crotch. Nearly causing him to go cross-eyed, but not quite, it did at least stir a very real anger inside him, provoking him to fight back with everything he had. Wrestling in close proximity wasn't ideal as far as he was concerned, but long ago he'd been trained for all eventualities, so he allowed the memories of that time to come flooding back, hoping to allow his body to fight instinctively. To some degree it worked.
Pleased to have caught him just a little off guard, particularly at having inflicted pain 'there'... her short lived victory came crashing down around her as the sharp incisors in his gaping mouth closed in around her purple-lined, delicate nose, and bit down as hard as they could. A sickening 'CRUNCH' that would have caused most beings to spontaneously vomit resounded between them, followed quickly by an almighty, high pitched shriek. Encouraged by the sound, Fredric shook his head viciously, a great white shark tearing apart its prey, shaking loose blood, bone and sinew, all the time keeping his human mouth firmly clamped around what was left of her nose. In her heightened, frightened, terrified state, her magic took over, exploding out between them in a kinetic rage that mirrored everything the insane woman felt. Crackling into nothingness, their shields disintegrated as both father and daughter flew violently apart, both crashing thunderously down on opposite sides of the residence.
Slightly concussed and feeling sick from the contact of his daughter's knee, it was the founder of the Crimson Guards that rose to his feet first, battle weary and tired, despite the power the chains surrounding his chest offered up. Until now, his body hadn't really realised it was in a fight. Now it certainly did.
