The Dragon's Game

by James Erith

  Jesus.

  Then the beast changed tack and flew at Isabella. She looked exhausted, struggling to hold it back with the red energy particles emanating from her hands. Daisy fired again, catching the monster in the throat but, from where he watched, he could tell the strike lacked the same power.

  Unbound fury crashed out in its bark, in its roar.

  It jumped at Isabella again, but now Archie rushed in, recklessly smashing into the beast with his spiky head. White blood flew everywhere.

  Screaming, Archie took a blow to the shoulder only to run at the beast once more, sending it sideways.

  Gus could scarcely believe his eyes.

  This time the beast took time to adjust, shaking itself down, stabilising itself. It too, gasping for breath.

  He thought of Sue, seeing her so identically in Isabella’s face, so similar that it filled Gus with strength injecting him with steel.

  He had to do something. He had to help save the de Lowes — wasn’t that what Sue would have wanted more than anything?

  Now, a serpent-like monster reared over Isabella, hissing and roaring. Isabella kicked out, whacking the sides of the reptilian face. Daisy flashed another light beam out of her eyes, sending the beast reeling.

  Gus felt in the pockets of the coat. A penknife, and the strange jar. He pulled out his Swiss Army knife, took off Old Man Wood’s overcoat and, holding it under one arm, crept as quietly as he possibly could, hugging the wall, to the far side of the beast.

  Head down, the beast surveyed the Heirs, saliva dripping from its mouth, its sharp teeth ready to plunge. Then, in an instant, it changed.

  Smaller, faster, menacing, like a raptor.

  As one, the de Lowe children shuffled backwards, the beast flashing its head from one to the other.

  Gus knew he had to act now. And then, from the corner of his eye, he saw it. An oblong block of stone lying on the floor, next to where the previous monster’s feet had stood.

  He crouched down hardly daring to breathe.

  Commando-style, on hands and knees, Gus crept forward. He stretched out a hand, grasped the stone in his fingers and began to pull it ever-so gently towards him, trying to keep his breathing even, his face buried in the ground, praying he wouldn’t be noticed.

  A strange, high-pitched bark crashed into his ears and made him stop stone-still. The beast was ready to attack, he could sense it.

  Gus crawled forward and kept drawing in the tablet as though in ultra-slow motion. With a gentle release of breath, he dropped it into one of the large coat pockets.

  A plan formed in his mind. Reckless and crazy, yes. But he had to do it.

  The beast had moved further forwards towards his friends, snaring them in the corner.

  With a deep breath, Gus stood up, and, remembering his words to Sue on the boat, he summoned the haunting theme tune from ‘Titanic’ into a whistle, stepped out from behind the monster, and started walking.

  58 SUE MAKES A DECISION

  To Sue, it felt as if hours had passed. She walked around the vast palace, dusting off corners of paintings and the edges of rocks finding sparkling stones glowing back at her, most bearing a colour and depth such as she’d never seen before. And the more she walked, the deeper her mind churned. Besides not saying farewell to her loved ones, especially her mum and Isabella, her thoughts returned to Gus.

  Her dear Gus.

  Heroic and fabulous and funny and talented. Sue's heart ached as if might shatter at any moment. An intense sorrowfulness she’d never considered possible filled her bones until she reminded herself that it was nothing short of a miracle that she was still alive. Wasn’t that in itself worth treasuring?

  Gus had made her life possible. More than anything, he would have wanted her to live, and to live in a way that captured the sparkle and dynamism and love that he’d shown her on their brief, yet exhilarating adventure.

  Perhaps, she thought, this was his gift. A special underestimated gift, just like him.

  And when she thought of Kemp, the gut-wrenching revulsion she previously felt for him faded like a stain coming out in the wash. Sure, she could never – would never – love him like Gus. He was just an insecure boy, she figured, shy and sensitive, masked by a bully’s shell. She recognised that he'd understood the luck of the cards in this strange game of survival. Funny how things turn out.

  And here she was, wandering about on an alien planet. A place beyond imagination, scarred by a tragic history that concerned Earth and the unknown accounts before the known dawn of humankind. And all she could do was wait for news of Earth’s demise and the loss of numberless souls.

  She walked on and on. In every room and along every dust-filled passageway, she noted glass-like, plate-shaped puddles covered by layers of dust. And, when she stopped and bent down to wipe them, she discovered that each one bore the face of a person who stared back at her; some smiling, some waving, occasionally a wink, or a brief upturn in the corner of the mouth.

  Did they know they were trapped? She wondered. The more she examined them, the more she saw in each face the flicker in the eye of yearning, a look that cried out to be loved.

  They were waiting, she thought. Lost in space, floating in an empty void.

  Sadness consumed her. Visions of lost souls swept through her heart, pulled on her sinews and trespassed her brain. She ran hard, crying until she had no more tears, collapsing into a corner of what she imagined must have once been a kind of stable block. More puddles, larger puddles.

  She wiped away the dust.

  In front of her, nodding, a horse’s face looked back at her.

  Horses too? She thought. That was unexpected.

  From her dark place, she noted a pinprick of light in its eye.

  She smiled at its long, white, nose and the way it tossed its head. She put her hand on the puddle and ran it up and down as if stroking, petting the animal.

  It seemed to respond to her touch.

  ‘I think I’ll call you “London”’ she said. The thought warmed her.

  ‘And you,’ she said, sliding over to the next one and brushing the dust away, ‘can be “Edinburgh”. In no time, she’d named twenty-five patches and, just to make sure she wouldn’t forget she went round each one calling out their names.

  On the third circuit, she was sure she detected a form of recognition, as though they could hear, as if they knew they were being spoken to.

  Maybe, Sue thought, if they could hear her, she might be able to learn the names of not only the horses, but the people, so that when they woke up, she wouldn’t be overwhelmed or distrusted. Indeed, she might even gain their trust as she waited.

  She liked the thought that she could enable change. Maybe she could do something significant here. Make a difference.

  The more she churned around in her head what Cain had told her, the clearer her mind became.

  She would stay here for the people in the puddles and for the horses in the stables. Not for Kemp or the ghost.

  Soon she’d know. One more day, that’s all the time they had left.

  As she waited, petting a grey horse she’d named “Paris”, she figured she’d need a plan for either outcome.

  59 KEMP TRIES TO EXPLAIN

  When Cain didn’t return, Kemp assumed that his previous instruction meant he should get to the cottage and, at the very least, try and talk his mother into willingly going with him. He knew she had to be persuaded one way or the other, or his entire purpose would have failed. Besides, if it went badly, this would be his last chance to be with her. And he wanted to be with her more than anything else right now.

  Shots rang out — he couldn’t tell from where, but it urged him on faster, uphill - the fog lifting bit by bit.

  Sensing he’d reached the top of the rise, he turned to the right and followed the outline of the track, climbing logs and straddling puddles, negotiating fallen stones as quietly as he could, keeping his feet soft, making sure that he wouldn’t be found and taken in by the sold
iers.

  It felt like ages when he saw the linear outline of a rooftop. He realised he’d travelled further round than he would have liked, but it had kept him out of harm's way. As he approached the old, grey courtyard, he hid among the scraggly bushes listening, watching, waiting.

  From here, he knew it took only a quick dash up the staircase to his mother’s apartment.

  Tiptoeing across, in no time he’d arrived at her door. He knocked, briefly, then, without waiting for an answer, let himself in.

  Mrs Pye sat in her chair, rocking backwards and forwards, her eyes staring wildly at the door.

  Her alarm disappeared when she saw Kemp, and her face beamed, as much as her facial expression allowed. ‘I knew you’d be back,’ she said. ‘I had a feeling, deep in here.’ She pointed to her chest.

  ‘Couldn’t keep me away,’ Kemp replied, moving in for a hug. ‘Can I make you a cup of tea or something?’

  ‘Don’t you be silly,’ she said. ‘What can I get you? It’s not every day I find out I’ve got a little one all of my own.’ She struggled out of her chair, Kemp helping her.

  ‘I know what. Are you hungry? I’ll make you one of my all-time specials,’ she said. ‘It’s called a Mrs Pye Special. Those others love my MPS’s.’

  ‘I know about those,’ Kemp beamed. ‘They’re famous.’

  ‘And I reckon you is going to love them too,’ she said. ‘Come on. Let’s go over and make one, together.’

  In the kitchen, Mrs Pye tossed Kemp an apron, and they set about putting the huge sandwich together. All the while, Mrs Pye chatted, not about anything in particular, but mainly about the recipe and how kind everyone had been to her.

  Finally, they sat down and began to eat.

  ‘I am sorry,’ she said when their plates were empty.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Well, my little treasure, sorry that I never saw you growing up. Now, look at you, all brawn and muscles and handsomeness. I imagine you must have been a right beautiful boy, huh?’

  No one had ever commented that Kemp could be in any way either handsome or beautiful before and he swelled with pride. ‘I don’t know, no one ever said such nice things,’ he said.

  Kemp knew this was his chance.

  ‘There’s something I need to discuss with you, mum,’ he said, before adding, ‘I can call you “Mum”, can’t I? Or would you prefer “mother” or something else? Maybe just Mrs Pye?’

  Mrs Pye reddened. ‘I’ve never given any thought to it,’ she said, and she chortled in a slightly embarrassed way. ‘Mother, for now, I think,’ she said.

  ‘Mother,’ Kemp said, relishing the shape of the word in his mouth.

  ‘Now, go on. What’s this thing you want to talk about? Is it about Archie and his sisters by any chance?’

  Kemp nodded. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I’ll tell you for free; they’re acting most queer, them lot. Out of the ordinary, like they’re trying to save the world.’

  ‘That’s the thing. They kind of are,’ he said. ‘And there’s good news and bad news on that front.’

  Mrs Pye leaned forward. ‘Keep going.’

  Kemp picked his plate up and placed it in the sink. ‘Let’s go back to your room, and I’ll tell you everything, I promise. It’s complicated, but I don’t think it’s safe to talk here. There are soldiers on the hills right now, looking for them. If they find me, I won’t be coming back, I promise you.’

  She stood up and moved quickly to the door. ‘Can’t leave me on tenterhooks. Come on, I’ll lead the way.’

  Inside Mrs Pye’s snug room, she sat down on her chair while Kemp perched at the end of the bed.

  ‘It’s a strange story,’ he began, ‘but it’s all true, however daft it sounds,' he began. ‘Thing is, you’ve got to believe me, because, without these weird things happening, I would never have found you, and I wouldn’t have lost all my hair and the headmaster wouldn’t be here and the soldiers wouldn’t be turning up asking questions and the telly would work and then there wouldn’t have been this unreal flood and the disease and the pandemonium everywhere.’ He stared at his mother. ‘I take it you know about all this stuff?’

  Mrs Pye eyed him curiously. ‘Yep. Nothing but terror-awful stories on my telly-box. And they’re wanting my Archie and that girl Sue too. I wondered if it was some kind of joke at first. But it can’t be, can it?’

  ‘No, mother, it is all very real,’ he said, as earnestly as he could. Then he paused trying to work out how to begin. ‘Look, don’t ask me why, but the three de Lowes were chosen to save everyone.’ He knew immediately that it sounded ridiculous and sniggered. ‘Bit of a weird choice, if you ask me, but, so far, they’ve done better than anyone imagined.’

  ‘Well, go on,’ she encouraged. ‘I’m all ears.’

  ‘The thing is, they’ve got to solve three riddles that lead them to finding three stone tablets. If they don’t, then the world will be wiped out by further rain and disease.’ Kemp shook his head. ‘Oh hell, you must think I’m crazy?’

  Mrs Pye inclined her head. ‘So, that would explain why they turned the house upside down looking at all them pictures,’ she said.

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Yeah, probably.’

  ‘And why they pulled out those strange carpet thing-a-me’s after I’d shoved them in the washing machine.’

  ‘Yeah. That’s right — Archie told me the rugs had clues to finding the riddles,’ he said.

  ‘And does all this explain why Archie has his hair sticking out and Daisy ruddy eyes and Isabella holes in her hands?’

  Kemp nodded. ‘Yes, mother,’ he said. ‘It’s all to do with the same thing. But, you see, it doesn’t finish with simply finding these tablets. Even if they succeed, they must do one more thing.’

  ‘Something else, huh?’

  ‘Yeah, and it’s not good.’ His voice went quiet. ‘In fact, it’s completely shocking.’

  Mrs Pye scratched her nose.

  Kemp hesitated. ‘I’m not sure I know how to tell you—’

  ‘They’re my lot, they are,’ she said, ‘and if it’s got anything to do with them, I’m needing to know. So go on, my boy. Tell me this awful-dreadful thing.’

  60 WHISTLING

  ‘We’ve got to get out of here,’ Daisy whispered. ‘We’re cornered.’

  ‘Any ideas?’

  ‘Not really. I’m almost on my knees.’

  ‘LOOK OUT!!’ she screamed.

  Archie ducked and threw another knife, which lodged neatly into the beast’s neck.

  Now a fearsome dragon, its snake eyes filled with fury, the beast recoiled and then jumped, going at Daisy with open jaws.

  Isabella flipped from her hands into a cartwheel and kicked the beast in the head.

  The animal crashed to the side, quickly turning into a small slippery viper, Archie’s knives falling out of the old body to the floor.

  ‘What the…?’

  ‘Music?’

  Even the snake turned to follow their eyes.

  From out of the shadows, Gus walked casually past, whistling the melodious, haunting tune from the film, Titanic.

  He glanced up, giving them a remarkably big grin. ‘Don’t mean to disturb you, but mind if I let myself out?’ he said. ‘It’s a little bit stuffy in here.’

  ‘Bloody hell!’ Archie said in astonishment. ‘Gus? What the…’

  Gus threw the coat at Archie who caught it smartly. Then he smiled and winked. ‘My friends, I think you’ll find it’s got everything you need—’

  Gus stood little chance.

  In a flash, the viper shot at Gus’s neck, Gus flailing his arms wildly to keep it at bay.

  To the shock of the onlookers, and in the very next movement, Gus lay on the cavern floor being savaged by a raptor.

  61 A DIFFERENT MOUTHFUL

  In a flash three knives lay buried up to their hilt, two in the beast’s neck, which oozed thick, white blood, the other just above its thigh.

  Burn marks sizzled around
the reptiles neck from Daisy’s lasers.

  The beast fell but righted itself quickly, its jaws stained red.

  Archie, with the coat tucked under one arm reached into his breast holster and hurled another. This time the blade sank into its chest.

  The beast toppled and roared. It spun its head around and moved clumsily away from Gus. Turning, it sprang at Archie.

  But, instead of running or ducking, Archie ran towards it to meet the on-rushing jaws of the monster. In one movement, perfectly timed, Archie extended his arm and thrust the coat straight down the serpent’s throat, momentarily gagging it.

  ‘Have your tablet back,’ he said, removing his arm a millisecond before the jaws snapped shut.

  The beast tipped its head back, chewing the remains of the coat with its sharp teeth, devouring it like a chocolate treat.

  From the coat pocket, a glass jar span through the air.

  Daisy studied it. The jar of Havilarian Toadstool Powder!

  In a flash she stood up knowing exactly what she had to do.

  The jar tumbled to the ground, the glass catching the light as it bounced.

  Daisy rushed in - the face of the beast following her movements, it’s jaws opening.

  Daisy had one chance. Her foot connected sweetly, her aim true, the jar flashing like a bullet straight into the beasts mouth. A crunching sound, like breaking glass, the only noise.

  In no time, Gorialla Yingarna had pinned Archie to the wall, reared up over him, triumphant. It is over, he roared into their heads.

  In a flash the beast changed into a smaller dragon. It levelled its foul head inches from Archie’s, its large, hazy green gaze spraying him with an emerald-green light that probed deep into his eyes.

  I have you now,’ the serpent said.

  ‘DON’T LISTEN TO IT!’ Daisy screamed. ‘Hold on!’

  Now the huge snake in front of Archie twitched, the movement reverberating along the length of its body.