Bentwhistle the Dragon Box

by Paul Cude

  Fortunately his mate was much quicker, not only on his feet, but behind his eyes.

  "We were told to bring the prisoner here for interrogation."

  "Hmmmmmmm..." answered the voice. "One moment."

  Facing straight ahead, not daring to look away, Jar Man maintained the stoic look on his face, very much hoping it resembled that of the guards they'd already passed. Moments later the utterly boring voice rang out once again.

  "Access will be granted imminently."

  And with that, a loud, grating rumble filled the air, as the gigantic, magic infused disc slowly rolled back to reveal a well lit assembly hall. Swallowing hard, Jar Man strode forward, doing his best to ignore the somersaults his stomach had been performing for some time now. Giving the prisoner a shove to encourage him to move, DomCon played his part to perfection. Out of the corner of one eye he could just make out the energy infused crystal node in the far corner of the antechamber. Using all his concentration, he did his very best not to stare at it.

  'Finally!' thought Steel, shrouding his mind in magic, just as any prisoner brought forward here would do. They were now exactly where they needed to be. The end game could begin.

  Passing the grenade over to his left hand as carefully as possible, he wiped his free hand against the back of the black jumper that he wore, hoping to get rid of most of the sweat, before returning the weapon to his dominant hand. It was hot here... baking hot, with absolutely no relief. The dragons around him seemed to be lapping it up, all extremely comfortable with the intense heat; if anything it seemed to give them more get up and go, make them more eager for confrontation. Following behind the three other humans, he'd lost sight of the master mantra maker and the other dragons spread out at the front when they disappeared into the darkness. Spooky, eerie, ghostly, spine-chilling were all words he felt summed up his existing situation. Moving through a place like this was bad enough, but doing so in complete and utter silence gave him the 'willies', so to speak. On top of which he kept on catching stray glimpses of some of the dragons he was travelling with, which made it all the more alarming. Part of him thought that he should have been used to them by now, and to a certain degree he was, but given that fantasy creatures he only knew from computer games, movies and books were right at this very moment alongside and behind him, his perception was all over the place. Knowing that he needed to concentrate, because almost certainly there was going to be another crazy battle similar to the one at Salisbridge, he pushed the part of him that was terrified to the core away to the back of his psyche and embraced the equal amount of him that loved every second. Wiping the sweat from his chin on his shoulder, Taibul carried on bringing up the rear of the human contingent, determined to do everything in his power to keep them, and his new found dragon allies, safe.

  48 Swamped

  Sensing the danger a split second before it hit them, George thrust out a wing and shoved Amelia Battlehard out of the way, before diving off in the opposite direction. The mammoth chunk of rubble missed the end of his tail by millimetres, crashing perilously onto the top of the magical dome protecting the fighting force beneath it. Fearing more debris falling from the roof cloaked in shadows, far out of sight, George thought he had best tell those below him to move themselves out of the way quickly, even if it meant breaking up the safety of their shared barrier. Opening his mind to do just that, tearing a wing from a dive-bombing dark dragon with a compartmentalised part of it as he did so, it was then that he spotted what had actually happened, and the slight change in tactics his adversaries were now adopting. Clusters of dragons were picking up parts of the roof that had all ready fallen to the floor, before flying high up above the king and his group of light sided fighters and dropping said debris from a great height towards their protective shield. As the king watched dispassionately, two more dragons circled around, ready to make their bombing runs. Knowing that the shield couldn't possibly take this kind of bombardment for long, the rather angry monarch decided to take matters into his own hands.

  With multiple spells constantly on the go, stretching the mana inside him this way and that without thinking about it, he applied a shocking touch to a dragon opponent that had dropped in from the sky just behind him, hoping no doubt to take him by surprise, before performing a one-hundred and eighty degree roundhouse kick to send the prehistoric monster's body flying off the top of the dome, tumbling onto some of his comrades below. Intently watching the next dragon from a group circling some way off head towards him, all the while deflecting dazzling bolts of magic from both himself and Amelia, he conjured up two potent and very different mantras and, without hesitation, despatched them towards their targets. The first, what he liked to refer to as an Arctic blast, was plain for all to see. Five frosty bolts materialised from the palm of his right hand, rocketing off into the mayhem of magic, dedicated fully to searching out their target, the next dragon on the bombing run. Simultaneously, his second attack appeared without warning above and around the rest of the dark dragons circling, all clinging onto humungous chunks of debris, waiting for their bombing runs to start. Still multitasking on an epic scale, George couldn't help but turn his attention to his adversaries far off in the air, pretty sure he'd like the result of his spectacular effort. As acid rain cascaded down on top of all of them, burning straight through their scales, annihilating their soft organs, screams, screeches and shrills of terror carried throughout the private residence, momentarily catching the attention of every being fighting there. Pleased with himself for a very small moment, he turned his attention back to the more immediate threat, having fleetingly lost track of his Arctic surprise, whilst at the same time crushing the skull of a naga who'd almost gotten the edge on the only surviving councillor down beneath him. Receiving a mental nod of thanks from his ally, he went back to tracking his frosty projectiles.

  Gripping the twisted chuck of debris, steel girders, marble and all, the cruel creature thought nothing of dropping his load on top of his target, in fact it gave him great pleasure just thinking about the results. Flapping his mighty wings twice as hard as he normally would because of the load he was carrying, causing tiny vortices in the air behind their tips, his bulky cargo proved to be his undoing, because the king's mantra had one little addition that most magic being cast in and around the battlefield lacked. It had a slight semblance of sentience built into it, taking into account how magical creatures might act, defend and dodge its ultimate purpose. A hint of sadness trickled through the dragon monarch briefly as he remembered this. His ring, the magical one he had once thought of as his friend, handed down from dragon monarch to dragon monarch, had taught him this. Apparently, no other beings on the planet knew how to do it, and it was a secret each and every king was sworn to take to their grave, something he fully intended to see through. Ever since gaining this knowledge at the very beginning of his reign, part of him delighted in knowing something his friend the master mantra maker never would. A much smaller part wanted to share the secret with his estranged friend, understanding just how wondrous he'd find it, but of course he never had. Sad at missing the ring he'd reluctantly given to Tank a little earlier, he wondered where the young rugby player was, realising only now that he hadn't seen hide nor hair of him. Wherever he was, at least Manson didn't have that ring. If he got hold of it and could bend its will to his own, this battle and their lives would all be over in a split second.

  Looking on with great satisfaction, George watched the result of his handiwork as yet another dark beast dropped on top of the shield in front of him, taking an almighty swipe with a lethal looking sword. Arching back so as to avoid the vicious blow, all the time with one eye on the approaching bomber, the king, letting the rage he felt bubble to the surface for just a moment, moved in with lightning quick speed, and in one fell swoop, head butted the monster so hard that every bone in his skull cracked. Flopping clumsily to the ground, the incompetent dragon's lifeless body slid down the side of the shield, once again hampering his attacking colleag
ues below.

  Zooming in a blur far beneath their target, dodging in and out of all of the explosive magic going off around them, one of the chilly bolts got caught in the wake of a huge flaming fireball which destroyed it immediately, leaving only four of his brothers left. Of those four there wasn't a leader, only one singular purpose driving all of them on together... to destroy their target. Banking hard left in a turn so tight no being there would have been able to follow them, they approached the target on exactly the same line but from below, knowing full well they'd never be seen due to the payload he carried. Hammering every last ounce of speed from the magic that drove them on, their sentience felt fulfilled as it achieved its ultimate purpose and made contact with not only the underside of the mighty beast's wing, but along the back of its tail as well. Instantly frozen, not knowing what the hell had just happened, the hapless monster plummeted to the ground at breakneck speed, slamming itself and the debris it had been carrying into one side of the group attacking the shielded dome, providing a temporary respite for some of those inside. Thrilled at the outcome, the king turned his focus back to the air around him, lighting the next attacker on fire with a brilliant burst of flame, enhanced in no small way by the magic that was his birthright.

  Colliding together again at speed, not a single magical defence in sight this time, Earth knew nothing about her surroundings or anything of the world outside her personal battle. Raking the sharp, purple coloured nails of her left hand across her father's exposed torso, she hit him hard with an uppercut to the chin as he frantically tried to grapple with her. Dazed for but a moment, it was long enough for the brown-cloaked, deranged dragon to press her advantage. Words from an alien script tumbled out of her mouth, conjuring up one of the nagas' most popular forms of magic... electricity! With ten centimetre bolts of crackling energy lancing out of eight of her fingers and both thumbs, she pressed her left hand against his bare chest, delighted at feeling the sticky, red blood that oozed from the wounds she'd just opened up with her nails. As the blood caught fire and rippled with an electric current, her right hand lunged for his throat, squeezing as tight as she could, forcing the electricity into his skin, watching in rapture the surprise on his face, the pain behind his eyes and the voltage jumping and writhing across both his upper and lower teeth. As the smell of burnt flesh and blood washed up his nostrils, Fredric let out one almighty yell, sounding like something otherworldly. Startled for a second, but not taking her eyes off the prize, a ruthless snarl developed across the bloodcurdling features of her face, forcing the purple criss-crossing lines to pump furiously, making her look more intimidating and evil, if that were possible.

  With loss of consciousness and the inevitable death it would bring only a few seconds away at most, Fredric struggled to bring any of his magic to the fore through all the pain he felt, despite the laminium chains wrapped firmly around his chest. That was it... the laminium chains. Shying away from mounting any kind of defence now... it was far too late for that... instead he searched deep inside the metal that had turned the tide in Antarctica, hoping he could set it alight and use it to part the two of them. All he knew was that he couldn't take much more, and that he had to put some distance between them. It just might work, but it just might kill both of them, something he was willing to risk, not because he had no choice, but because he'd easily give his life to stop her reign of evil, something he should have done a long time ago. Finding what he needed at a quantum level, he shut his eyes, let down his guard and left himself to fate's mercy.

  Throwing back her head full of ecstatic serpents, laughing manically as the electricity continued to burn its way into the blackened skin across her father's chest and around his scraggy throat, it would have been clear to anyone watching that she'd lost her way and would almost certainly never return. Insanity had consumed her totally and utterly.

  The explosion was unparalleled. Everything that had previously taken place on the battlefield paled in comparison.

  A concussive force wrapped up in a brilliant, bright, white ball of magical energy materialised briefly, before exploding out in every direction. Fredric and Earth were both tossed back into the air at an incredible speed, each of them travelling over one hundred metres, both taking the initial impact of the detonated laminium. Originating from the centre of the blast, a powerful ring of supernatural force and energy discharged across the private residence, tearing beings apart, destroying debris and what little infrastructure remained. Those paying close attention managed to fly out of the way, though most of the nagas were not so lucky, having their lives ended prematurely by something that had been designed as a last resort. Vasuki was one of the few lucky ones; having seen it coming, he'd managed to use his very unusual magic to erect a force field that had dissipated most of it. Still he'd been knocked to the ground, alongside both Flash and Manson.

  For the two remaining teams of light sided dragons, it had been something of a blessing in disguise. As the horizontal ring of power cut its way across the combat zone, it killed almost everything in its path, and given how crowded the area had become with enemy forces, it was Manson's dark allies that had suffered the greatest losses. Most had died instantly; some had limbs or extremities ripped out from under them.

  Those behind the shields survived by the skin of their teeth, the magical protection that they sheltered under faltering momentarily, shimmering and sparking as the massive amount of energy threatened to overload and overwhelm. In the end, both barriers stayed strong, mainly down to the fact that the burden of each had been shared amongst those behind them. Had it just been one individual carrying the weight of the load on their own, they wouldn't have been so fortunate, something Richie was only too aware of, counting her lucky stars that she'd teamed up with Yoyo's youngsters when she had.

  At the point where the magically rebuilt bridge connected with the king's residence, dozens of nagas and dark dragons that had been streaming across at Manson's summons, to join in the truly one-sided fight, lay dead, decapitated and just plain shredded. Faster than a speeding bullet, Earth thundered into their remains, landing hard enough to shatter the marble surface beneath them, the cracks and fissures themselves spreading out onto the bridge.

  Over two hundred metres away, Peter's grandfather Fredric, the founder of the Crimson Guards, smashed equally hard into something solid, this time part of the wall about twenty metres along from where Peter, Richie, Janice, Hook, Yoyo and the others were sheltered.

  "Noooooooooooooooo..." screamed Peter in utter horror, watching the being he'd hoped to get to know much better land harder than a problematic Soyuz space mission.

  Arms and legs at impossible angles, the mother of all burns in the shape of a hand imprinted deep within his chest, a burning, blackened band circling his neck and with no hint of the laminium that had only moments ago covered him, dust and smoke rose into the air as brilliant red blood spilled down the perfect white wall, producing what was likely the most gruesome scene from the whole sorry play.

  Without hesitation, Peter sprinted across to the part of the shield that was nearest to where his grandfather lay.

  "Let me out!" he cried, banging fruitlessly against the magic. "Let me out!"

  Even with so many of the enemy defeated, there were still dark dragons circling in the air above them, and not just a few. Leaving the safety of the shield would be futile, something all the voices inside Richie's head agreed upon almost immediately.

  Turning to face his friend with a mixture of sorrow, anger and regret etched into his almost schoolboy like features, the hockey playing dragon begged to be let out.

  "I have to go out there, Rich. Please. I have to get to him."

  Swallowing hard, and with the voices in her head dead set against anyone leaving, Richie Rump struggled to maintain the focus on the shield as she composed her reply.

  "You can't go Pete. You'll be killed. None of us can go with you, and we'll never be able to walk the shield over there in time. Without any kind of prote
ction, it's just not going to happen. I'm sorry."

  Boiling red with rage, fury radiating from every part of him, he cried out with all his might.

  "LET ME OUT!"

  Hands shaking, threatening to come apart on the inside, the lacrosse playing dragon knew the voices of the others made total sense and that it was nothing short of suicide to go out there on his own. She just had to make him understand. It was then that a gentle hand laid down on her shoulder, surprising her more than a little.

  Janice!

  "I'll go out there with him. It'll be okay, Fu'ts-ang will protect us. We can bring his body back in here. It won't take long. Let us through. There's no other way."

  Processing the information in a fraction of a second, the de facto leader of the dragons made her decision instantly, ignoring the protests of those that had taken up residence inside her mind.

  "GO!" she ordered the young human bar worker. "Good luck!"

  Pleading for protection from within her mind's eye, Janice hoped the space age weapon would stop killing long enough to offer up its help, but without even checking that was the case, she sprinted forwards towards Peter and the barrier, which fizzled into nothingness just as they reached it, allowing the two of them to leave the relative safety of the others. As fast as they could, they dashed towards what remained of Fredric.

  Reforming the defences behind them, Richie shouted out within her mind, determined to be heard over the squabbling that had broken out.

  "BE QUIET!"

  Instantly they were, and most of them weren't very happy about it.

  "Make sure we're ready to go. When they come back with his body, we'll move off towards the king's position."

  One of the impudent young dragons spoke up.

  "We should just go now and leave them here. They knew what they were doing. I thought the whole point of this was to rescue the king. Metaphorically speaking, Yoyo buried his face in his hands.