Frozen to the Core

by Paul Cude

  “Done in the name of survival, to see all of us through this, out the other side in an attempt to escape this prison and take our rightful places back in the real world.”

  “You can justify it however you like, but it’s still wrong, something you’re acutely aware of.”

  “My, my... aren’t you a wise old head on very young shoulders. I’ll ask you once again. Are you going to help? Think very carefully about your answer.”

  Not missing for one moment the menace and threat behind the words, he knew in his heart of hearts that he couldn’t help with whatever dastardly plan his father had that involved the nagas. It went against everything he believed in, and there was nothing he could or would say that might change his mind. Words, however, were not the leader’s strong suit. Actions were.

  “I’d say it’s a shame that it’s come to this... but I can’t really say that I’m surprised. You always were a bit of a softy. But now you get to choose what happens next.”

  From alongside his father, another concealed entrance that he hadn’t known about revealed itself, as two bulky men, one either side of his mother, marched out, both carrying glisteningly sharp stalactites, one only millimetres away from his mother’s throat. The fear and terror in her eyes were there for everyone to see.

  The very first thought to enter his brain, was whether or not he could cross the distance between them and disarm both, before they could do her any harm. Instantly he dismissed it as impossible. But just maybe there was something he could do. Tired, scared, fed up and utterly ashamed, delving inside himself, he yanked on the magic, forcing it up into his limbs, ready to dispense it at will.

  Out of nowhere, bright light and the most violent pain he’d ever felt erupted from the middle of his back, dropping him to his knees, forcing him to cry out in pain.

  “MAN!” screamed his mother, trying to break free from the vice-like grip her attackers had on her.

  Through the existential agony he could just make out the stuttering power inside him that had started to flicker away. It was now or never. Reaching out to grasp it and end everything playing out around him, a huge ‘CRACK’ tore through the room. Milliseconds later he realised that the sound had been his right kneecap splintering into a dozen pieces. Unable to catch his breath, even enough to shout out in pain, as the beating continued, he watched his mother’s attempt to break free and reach him. Of course she couldn’t. Curled up in a ball, constantly battered by metal wielding thugs on either side of him, the ethereal power he’d sought to bring forth had disappeared off into the wilderness of his mind, hardly a hint of where it had gone remaining. Watched by his father, brother, struggling mother and the two handing out the beating, the violence subsided after an instruction from his father, a minute or so later. Having recognised what the boy was about to do, the leader had handled it in the only way he knew how, and had overcome his son’s newly found magical abilities.

  As bright red, viscous blood pooled in the ice on the floor all around him, still curled up in the foetal position, Man whimpered and cried, sniffled and sobbed. It was an unbecoming sight for someone with so much power.

  “Not so wise it would appear, after all,” scoffed their father from across the room. The words had no effect on his son, even if he had heard them.

  “LET HIM GO!” bellowed his mother, still desperately trying to break free in an effort to reach her boy, still without any luck.

  Two strides, and instantly the leader found himself standing in front of the boy’s mother.

  “NO!” he screamed in her face, before drawing back his arm and punching her full in the nose, blood, bone and cartilage spraying the wall behind her.

  Josh jumped up, or at least in his mind did, but that’s all it was... a fantasy. In reality he stayed locked in place, far too scared to act, all too aware of the price caused by the decision he’d made.

  Grabbing the boy’s mother by the throat, a deep seated pleasure at the sight of what he’d done to her coursing through his body, very dispassionately the leader spoke.

  “You’re mine, BITCH, to do with as I please. You always were and you always will be. Don’t ever forget that.”

  From his position on the floor, Man could see what was happening and just make out the words. There and then, reality hit hard, driving home the precise order of things.

  “Let her go,” he coughed from the ground, blood oozing through wobbly teeth before falling precariously to the cold encrusted floor.

  “NO!” yelled his father.

  “I’ll do it! Whatever you want. Just let her go.”

  Letting go of the woman’s throat, the leader turned around to face his battered and bloody son.

  “She stays safe with me until this is all over. After you’ve played your part, she’ll be returned... you have my word.”

  Man knew there and then, that it was the best deal he was going to get, and although comprehending that his father’s word could never be trusted, he nodded his head in agreement, despite the reservations he had. With his brother having betrayed him, getting them all into this in the first place, his overwhelming sense of duty, loyalty and passion resided very much with his mother. She was all he had now, and he’d do anything to keep her safe. Slowly, he sat up, waves of pain surging through his body as he did so.

  Noticing his son’s discomfort, the leader smiled as he spoke.

  “I would suggest you use your gift to heal up. You need to be up and ready, starting tomorrow.”

  “To do what, exactly?”

  “You’ll befriend our guest, stay with him at all times, apart from when he’s resting.”

  “To what aim?”

  “Hopefully he can help you unlock the secrets to your powers, maybe even teach you some more magic. Act reluctant at first, almost as though it’s him giving you the ideas. Gobble up as much of it as you can, especially anything offensive. You may well need that at a later date.”

  “What if he doesn’t want to teach me anything?”

  “Then I suggest you use all of your skills to get him to do just that. It would be a shame if anything were to happen to your mother whilst you were away.”

  Not even a thinly veiled threat, Man knew.

  “If I can get that far, what then?”

  “Under no circumstances is he allowed to leave. He’s that far from the stream for a reason. Should he look as though that’s what’s happening, you are to warn my men. Do you understand?”

  Man knew a command when he saw one.

  “I do.”

  “Good. Make sure you do, otherwise there’ll be hell to pay.”

  “And then that’s it... she’s free to go, and will be left undisturbed?”

  “To a point. When more of his kind turn up, I’ll have other uses for you. And you’d damn well better comply. This is important and will secure freedom for all of us. Now go! Heal up, and first thing tomorrow, find your way to the naga and do as I’ve instructed.”

  “What about feeding the dragon prisoner?”

  “Huh. Who cares?”

  “He needs to be fed,” quipped Man, “particularly if he’s to survive more torture.”

  That got his father’s attention. Both beings locked eyes on each other, each trying to figure out what the other was thinking. Silence reigned, apart from Man’s heavy, troubled breathing.

  “I see,” commented his father. “This one,” he said, cuffing Josh across the top of the head, will continue to feed our prisoner, although not too well. Food is a valuable commodity here and now, and I don’t want it wasted on the likes of him. Is that understood?”

  From a crouched position on the floor, Josh managed to grumble a, “Yes sir.”

  Trickling the tiniest inkling of magic into his broken knee, Man desperately tried to keep a straight face as the euphoric feeling of the power knitting the bone back together threatened to overcome him. He succeeded, but only just. Stumbling to his feet, his newly repaired knee feeling as good as new, he wiped the blood from his mouth and chi
n, and with one last look at his mother, turned and left, all the time cursing his father and brother.

  Reaching the insignificant, tiny space that he’d always known as his, he curled up beneath the damp pile of rags that lay atop an icy block and pulled them up over his head, letting darkness shroud him. With his head still ringing, and the broken parts of his body calling out in pain, he set about putting that right. For the next few hours, he discovered almost all he could about healing... setting teeth, knitting bone, repairing skin and dampening down bruising. It was one hell of an education. Exhausted from the beating and using his magic, slumber overtook him, sending him off into a state of delirious dreaming.

  Waking early, his body refreshed and fully healed from the thrashing he’d received at the hands of his father’s men, Man’s only, all consuming thought was for the safety of his mother. And so with that in mind, after washing briefly in the ice cold water, he set out to find his target, and follow his father’s instructions. Keeping his mother safe was all that mattered.

  Curled around in a huge circle on the frost bitten ground, although technically asleep, Marg could still sense the approaching life force of another. Gracefully the serpent-like beast opened one eye, and rose to full height.

  “Good morning, youngster,” he prompted.

  “Good morning to you,” Man replied, smiling profusely.

  “Is there anything I can do for you?” asked the naga brightly.

  ‘If only you knew,’ thought Man, his mind focused on one singular purpose.

  “I...I...I...was wondering if you could tell me about your race. Ever since you popped out of the water the other day, I’ve been absolutely fascinated. I hope you’re not offended in any way shape or form. I’m just curious, that’s all.”

  It was a good opening gambit, and one that Man thought just might break the ice, so to speak, metaphorically and not literally.

  “Of course, of course,” answered Marg keenly. “I’d be only too happy to tell you all about us.”

  And that was how it started.

  Over the course of the next few days, Man would turn up at the remote enclave Marg used as his quarters, sometime in the early morning, and the two of them would either stay there and chat, or move about the compound, with Man subtly leading him in any other direction other than that of the stream and the dragon prisoner.

  At first all they talked about were his race. Feigning interest in everything their visitor had to say, he was wide-eyed in the appropriate places; using phrases such as ‘wow’, or ‘tell me more’, were regular occurrences. For his part, the naga was lured into a false sense of security, and felt as though they’d formed a reciprocal friendship. In Man’s case, it was nothing more than him doing everything he could to secure his mother’s freedom and safety. Getting her away from his psychotic father was the only game in town.

  During the course of their discussions, Man learnt as much as he could about his new found friend’s kin, figuring that at some point in the future, it might just serve him well. Marg recounted some of their history, explaining how their king at the time, and the rest of their race, felt betrayed by the Manticores and the Basilisks in the run up to the prophecy agreement. After becoming excluded through no fault of their own, a decision was taken to retreat very much out of the public eye so to speak, and return to their native regions which included the Arctic, the Southern seas and of course Antarctica. Gradually, nearly all the nagas across the planet slipped back into the water and headed for much colder climes, leaving the rest of the ancient races to govern and guide their human charges. Over the remaining centuries, nothing had really changed in that regard. Of course the Manticores and the Basilisks had gotten what was due to them. Who hadn’t heard of that? Other than knowing that though, no information on anything else had been heard. Occasionally their world would collide with that of the humans, sightings of a stray vessel here, the sporadic explorer there. But these encounters were infrequent at best and not really monitored.

  Explaining about their diet of fish, seal and marine mammals on day two, Man found it odd when Marg mentioned the delicious meat he’d been fed on his very first day here.

  ‘What the...?’ was all he could think. Meat, here?’ In all his time, he’d never heard of such a thing. ‘What was it? Where had they found it?’ were the thoughts that spun throughout his head. Without thinking about it, the naga moved on.

  “Of course we stay in touch via telepathy, with different clusters of us all dotted across the globe. Tiny way stations around the Equator boost communication between troupes in the southern and northern hemispheres. For the most part it works quite well, and allows us every five or ten years to visit our cousins in remote and distant waters.”

  “Impressive,” stated Man truthfully. “What a marvellous achievement.”

  “We’re very proud of it,” declared Marg.

  After that, they moved on to social conventions and the rule of law within the different groups sprinkled across the globe. It was all Man could do not to fall asleep at this point. It was a good job that he hadn’t because the big payoff was about to arrive.

  “And that really only leaves us with... magic!” announced Marg, knowing this would brighten up his friend’s day.

  It most certainly did, in more ways than one.

  Hours flew by as Marg explained the basic concepts of spell weaving as he liked to call it. Excitement bubbled up deep within Man, not just at the thought of freeing his mother, but at learning ancient magic, which nobody outside the naga race had ever been taught. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes into hours, and hours into days as the two vastly different beings lost themselves in all things supernatural.

  The notions at first were incredibly hard to grasp. Whether because of the cold, their difference in nature, or because his focus was elsewhere, namely with his mother, Man struggled to perform even the most basic tasks, so much so that taking his dragon form was proving much more difficult than it had been. And that he knew was important, because if push came to shove, and Marg wanted to leave, it would almost certainly come down to him to stop him, and the only way he could do that was in the mighty, prehistoric monster guise that he thought of as his own.

  Slowly, with guidance from the patient naga, who was proving to be something of a boon as a teacher, Man started to come around, began to understand some of the underpinning principles of the strange and alien spells, taking in what he’d been told, absorbing every last ounce of information. It was a revelation, and played a huge part in reinforcing his morals, or at least that’s how it seemed.

  On walking back to the cramped and cold place he called his own one evening, from out of nowhere appeared his father, alone and agitated, directly in his path.

  “How goes it? I haven’t heard from you in quite some time.”

  “I’m doing what you commanded, right down to the letter. If there’s anything to report, then I will do, straight away.”

  Instantly his father took objection to his tone of voice, closing the gap between them in a matter of paces.

  “You’d do well to remember who’s in charge here, and just what stake you have in making sure it goes right.”

  “Where is she?”

  “My men are... making her comfortable.”

  This time it was Man’s turn to rally at his father’s tone of voice, implying that something wholly untoward was happening.

  “If she’s harmed...” Man started, but a sneer from his father stopped him from going any further.

  “Keep up your end of the bargain, and she’ll be fine. If you don’t, or you’re planning something stupid, her life will end in as much pain as possible. Make sure you remember that.”

  “I will.”

  And with that, the leader slipped off into the shadows without another word, leaving his son alone with his thoughts and machinations.

  Impossible dreams haunted him nightly, causing him to convulse and wriggle, sweat and call out in what little sleep he managed to gain. In
some, he and his mother had escaped this icy hellhole, living out long and productive lives in the warm countryside of some deserted island, on their own together, just the two of them. Nightmarish scenes of desperate battles with angry nagas hunting down the remaining members of their tiny community, one by one, inflicting unspeakable acts, all because of the attempted double cross by his father, forced him awake, covered in sweat, breathing heavily, scared senseless. Curling back up in an effort to get more rest, his thoughts and heart raced. Should he tell Marg exactly what was going on? On the one hand, it didn’t seem like a good idea, but just maybe they could work together, save his mother and then leave this place once and for all. No doubt it would come at a cost, almost certainly the lives of many of the inhabitants, something he was more than a little reluctant to risk. But the remaining choice, the lies, betrayal and who knew what else beyond that, was killing him, eating him up inside, and went against everything he believed in. He was sure no good would ever come of it, despite what his father and the others thought.

  Unable to go back to sleep, and despite the early hour, Man trudged off in the direction of Marg’s enclave, wondering if it was too early to get started and whether or not at some point the naga would stop teaching him magic. Would he become bored, would it be too much of a risk, would there be certain spells that he just couldn’t share? Or maybe all of the above. Deep down, he hoped that wouldn’t be the case. Not only was it all absolutely fascinating, but for the first time in his life, he actually felt as though he were being treated as an adult, with respect and an appreciation for exactly what he could do. It was a fantastic feeling and one he relished, almost as much as the magic.

  Plodding along the lonely path, in what would be considered the very early hours of the morning, tiny slithers of movement occasionally caught his eye. At first he thought he was imagining it, but that thought didn’t last for long. Slowing to barely walking pace, feigning tiredness, throwing in the odd yawn here, the odd stretch there, he tried his best to see what was going on. Try as he might though, he couldn’t get a grip on what was happening. It had to be his father, or at least his father’s men, because the closer he got to Marg’s quarters, the more the little oddities appeared. Only then did it strike him... he could use his magic in an effort to gain more insight.