by Paul Cude
It felt different this time, whether because of how out of control he was, the fact that he’d given all of himself over to it, or maybe, he thought, feeling more than a little nervous, perhaps he’d cast it wrong. If it were the latter, he’d be dead in a moment or two. The forking, arcing lightning had changed colour, alternating between fluorescent pink and a cool, dark purple, splitting the air with a series of constant low pitched BOOMS, underscored by a vicious crackling and hissing and the feel of the air getting heavier. Drilling into the thick, white layer of ice that looked like a frozen sea retreating on the tide, the ignited air sent shattered fragments scattering in every direction as a series of mini explosions tore apart the fjord below For’son, a roiling, boiling cloud of steam enveloping everything, including the blue shaded warrior himself momentarily.
Plunging after his prey at breakneck speed in the sharpest of dives, for an instant Chillblade lost sight of his target, as the thick, steamy white cloud of superheated water vapour spread out below. Sure that he was on the right track, he poured on as much velocity as he could, determined to end the wretched beast’s life before the ground could do it for him, ready to reverse his body and use the razor sharp talons that had killed so many times before to ‘slice and dice’ as he liked to think of it. Doing just that, knowing that the ground was only metres away now, certain that his target would present itself through the thick fog that obscured his vision completely, he knew that the hunger within him was about to be satisfied by yet one more kill, the latest in a series that numbered in the hundreds over the last ten years alone.
Filthy yellow razor sharp talons outstretched, Chillblade arched his legs, his powerful thigh muscles as taut as they’d go, and waited for the gratifying feel of scale and sinew being ripped apart, his wings now outspread, burning off just some of the speed.
What would become a defining phrase for physicists everywhere some twenty thousand years or so later, could most certainly be applied in this instance. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction, the lightning surging out of him into the ground, slowing his descent, until he rather uncomfortably and clumsily landed feet first on top of the ice, a deadly ripple of dangerous forked cracks spreading out in all directions, with him at its centre. Taking a split second to appreciate how lucky he was to still be alive, engulfed in the thick, misty cloud of steam that currently felt like heaven, it was only then that For’son’s sense of danger kicked in, having been too panicked and in too much of a spin to take note of his attacker heading after him. Really not wanting to, and knowing that the cold would pierce his body like a thousand puncturing needles all at the same time, the royal protector could see no other way out, and so without delay, he leapt off to one side and tumbling head over heels (not easy for a dragon to do), rolled over and over and over, putting at least fifty metres between himself and the spot where he’d landed. And that was probably the first break he’d gotten since this whole thing started because as he awkwardly staggered to his feet, his pursuer hit the ice HARD, in that exact same landing spot.
BOOM! Having misjudged where the ice of the fjord began, fully expecting to feel the tearing of plump dragon flesh and scale beneath his dirty yellow talons, Chillblade’s whole body felt the impact with the slippery ground, a bone shaking rattle running up his primeval body, jolting his knees and back, his filthy teeth ringing like church bells, the agony absolutely exquisite.
Not usually one to take pleasure in another’s pain, the bright blue leader of the diplomatic delegation from the south felt a pang of satisfaction watching the dark dragon smash so brutally into the ground, figuring he’d got his just deserts, hoping that would be enough and that they could all now get back to politics; after all, that was the whole reason they were here. Unfortunately, it was never going to be that simple.
Compelled by his leader’s orders, with them feeling like a collar around his thick, dark, scaly neck, Chillblade fought off the pain from his unqualified landing and rose to his feet, spotting his prey through the clearing steam, just off to the side, looking intact and a little smug, something that riled him even more, if such a thing were possible. As the anger inside him took over, he roared the most heart stopping vicious roar of his life, and intent on having revenge for being made to look a fool, at least in his eyes, he bounded forth over the ice, flapping his two giant wings low to the ground in an effort to gain as much momentum as possible in his haste to reach For’son.
With his attacker almost on him once again, the king’s friend had little time to react. Fortunately his battle trained mind instinctively commanded his body, forcing him up into the air and out of immediate danger before he’d even had a chance to realise exactly what had happened. After that, a decision was made.
Right or wrongly, he’d held his magic in check up until this point thinking that to do so was part of some unwritten code or diplomatic policy. But he’d had enough of whatever was going on, and in a decision that he knew might have huge ramifications, he allowed his ethereal energy to flood through him, one thought alone at the front of his mind: be damned with the consequences.
Almost ready to pounce, once again he watched his cowardly prey streak up into the air just out of reach, making him angrier than Bruce Banner’s alter ego. Stretching out both wings and lowering his centre of gravity, he drew to a halt, his sensitive feet burning from contact with the ice, something he pushed to the back of his mind, determined to end this as quickly as possible. In a fit of rage, and ignoring what should have been protocol, resolutely he followed the dastardly orders of his leader, in his case certainly not a friend, just another being in his way, and he knew if he didn’t get this right, he’d be done for. I’m not talking about being demoted or punished, he’d simply be... DEAD! That was the plain truth of the matter. And so with his life on the line, he belched up a couple of huge fireballs in a row, spitting them out in his adversary’s direction, and bounding into the air after them in one single leap, brought forth the most vicious of his magic, even though he knew he shouldn’t have.
About to unleash some of his supernatural brilliance, instantly he was caught off guard as two flame dripping fireballs resembling tiny suns, brilliant bright yellow at their centres, surrounded by orange, red and blue licks of flame on the outside, came hurtling his way, their fiery tails making them look like explosive comets. Flipping upside down, defying gravity, he rolled over upon himself as the flaming projectiles flashed past, their heat scorching his wings, the pain from which kicked him into action. Jinking all the time, he sprinted towards the ice at a dizzying rate, pulling up at the last moment, skimming just a few centimetres above the dull, reflective surface, a cold, ice field cloud spiralling up in his wake.
Madness having almost fully taken over now, Chillblade had done the one thing all battle hardened beings are warned against doing when they’re trained... he’d lost control. Not only of the situation, but of himself and his emotions, determined as he was to take down the shaded blue dragon no matter what the cost, the stark realisation that it was either that or be killed hitting him like a lumberjack’s axe burying itself into the trunk of a tree.
Doubling back in the tightest turn possible, he swooped down onto his opponent’s tail as debris in the form of rocks, stones and shards of pointed ice peppered his face. Ignoring all these whilst flying as close as he could, in his mind, he opted for one of his most vicious mantras, knowing that it would all be over in only a matter of moments.
Recognising the familiar touch deep inside his well balanced psyche, the royal protector and warrior instantaneously spoke the spell they’d all discovered on their last mission, used to protect them from the ra-hoon. Right here, right now, it saved his life, preventing Chillblade from mashing his brain from within, something that only stoked the dark dragon’s rage and frustration.
‘Impossible,’ he thought. ‘No being has ever managed to resist that particular mantra. What in the hell is going on?’
Sweat dribbling down his spine, despite the chill
y conditions, For’son knew that it was time to turn the tables and take this bully down. For good or bad, he just couldn’t allow this to go on much longer. How their leader would view this was anyone’s guess.
In a series of frantic manoeuvres that had him sweeping past the frozen sea’s breakers and up onto the pointed rocky coast on the far side of the fjord, only then did he remember his friend the king’s cunning ploy back over the forest not so long ago, the one that had whittled down the number of pursuers and had allowed him to enter the cave below the rocky overhang, the one which he’d helped collapse. Reaching out with his mind, the demonic, murderous looking dark monster almost clinging to his tail in his slipstream, he lurched this way and that as more fireballs with a fierce intensity came scorching past, missing his wings and head by less than a gnat’s genitalia. Knowing that it was now or never, opening a tiny hole in the defences surrounding his mind, he allowed the supernatural within him to leak out and find its target. No... not the revenge filled hunter firmly on his tail, but the huge jagged boulders over which they both flew. With a few selected just in front of his whistling form, inside he whispered the words, let the magic within him flow and, barrel rolling this way and that, gave over all the will he could spare.
Close now, almost able to chomp down on the tip of the brilliant blue tail in front of him, ignoring the pain from the debris flying up in his opponent’s wake, the dark dragon, Chillblade, almost admired the guile of the opponent ahead of him as he opened his huge prehistoric jaws, ready to bite down and bring things to a conclusion. Distracted by this thought, revelling in potential glory, having taken his eye off the ball, he never saw it coming.
Below them, the ground quaked and rumbled as spiky boulders the size of cars broke apart at their base, half a dozen quivering as they did so. As the blistering fast blue blur cruised over them, like rockets leaving Cape Canaveral, they blasted into the air, missing For’son by a hair’s breadth, skewering his dull witted shadow through his belly, both wings and tail.
As thick, brilliant green dragon blood splattered throughout the air, a shrill, piercing scream echoed across the ice and rock, one so loud and so bone chillingly terrifying, that it could only signify one thing... DEATH! And that of a dragon. With an almighty THUD, Chillblade’s body fused with the rocks that had acted like missiles and taken him down, smashed to the ground, and all the time gathering momentum, rolled down the side of the rocks and fell atop the frozen fjord, burying itself into the ice, only the tip of the rocks, one wing and his snout remaining showing. A more brutally sad sight it would have been harder to find.
Swishing his tail hard to the right, For’son banked back towards the two groups of opposing diplomats and pumping his wings, headed directly for them, magic surging through the whole of his monstrous, dinosaur-like body, ready to do battle should those from this land deem it necessary. Sending stones skittering in every direction, he landed with a bump between both factions, ethereal energy visible in shades of green and blue atop his fingertips, waiting to come into being, ready to be unleashed at a moment’s notice, should the need arise. Thankfully though, it didn’t appear to be the case, the diplomats from the other side looking more disinterested than anything else, one or two seemingly almost joyous at the demise of their colleague.
Studying his fingernails matter-of-factly, one of the others, now supposedly their leader, turned to face For’son, not bothered at all about what had happened, or the magic clearly visible in front of him.
“That,” he said, “was most unfortunate. My understanding was that we were supposed to just guide you back to the capital and nothing else. You have my sincerest apologies.”
“BULLSHIT!” spat Fanti through their shared group link, surprising them all.
“Calm down,” urged their leader, the king’s warrior friend, doing his best to follow his own advice. “Getting angry now will not serve us well. They seem nonchalant about their comrade’s death which could be for any number of reasons. Perhaps he went rogue or maybe he was just following orders. Either way, we’ll probably never know. I suggest we follow their lead for the time being, but now you know the seriousness of the situation we all find ourselves in. There can be no turning back. For good or bad, we’re here now and have to make the best of it. Stay alert. If you see or sense anything unusual, tell me immediately. Good luck.”
With that he cut off communication, returning to the conversation with their diplomatic opposition.
Taking a long, deep breath in through his enormous nostrils, tiny licks of bright yellow flame sparkling out of each, and out through his humungous prehistoric jaw, he set about moving things along.
“What’s supposed to happen next?” he asked, in a calm and controlled manner, the magic that had been so prominent atop his fingers tucked away for the moment.
“We’ll escort you to the capital where, right at this very moment, a huge feast in your honour is being prepared. After that, you’ll sit down with our leader to try and thrash out some sort of agreement. He’s harsh but fair. You should have no trouble coming to an arrangement that suits you both.”
‘That,’ thought For’son, ‘doesn’t sound entirely unreasonable.’ He was still troubled though. Had it been any other land, any other beings but those here, and the despicable leader who he knew only a little about, but what he did turned his blood cold, then he might just have taken those words at face value. But he just couldn’t, not with so much at stake, not only the lives of the other diplomats that had accompanied him here, but also peace for the whole planet, especially those living under the tyranny and threats of violence who needed to be free as quickly as possible. With all of that in mind, the blue shaded dragon strolled over to pick up his discarded scimitar and fleece.
“You won’t be needing those or anything else,” declared the de facto leader of the other side. “In fact you won’t be needing anything. Leave all of your equipment here.”
Knowing full well that it wasn’t a request, For’son told them through the link to put all their belongings on the ground, something they did immediately, each disappointed to have done so. After a little nod in recognition of what they’d done, the bright blue shaded leader from the south glanced up towards the heavens and said,
“Lead the way,” he said, sounding much more confident than he felt.
“Stick together,” ordered the new leader. “We’ll flank you to make sure you’re safe from any threats.”
“And just what would they look like?” asked Thomas from behind, not at all keen to be surrounded in the sky by all these wicked looking dragons.
“You’re not back in the land of sunshine and flowers now, my friend,” urged one of their opponents. “There are many threats both in the sky and on the ground that could easily take down a dragon or two. We’ll keep you safe until you get to the capital, of that you can rest assured.”
“And after that?” asked the wise and experienced diplomat.
“I’m sure our leader will provide all the comfort and reassurance that you need.”
Those words didn’t instil confidence in any of them.
“Let’s go,” exclaimed For’son, bending his knees, ready to take to the sky.
Reluctantly, the others followed, each wondering what kind of threat could take down a dragon or two in the sky, and exactly what awaited them in the capital. Shortly, they would find out.
Tap, tap, tap.
“Come.”
“Majesty.”
“Orac. What’s so urgent that you needed to see me straight away?”
“The crystals I told you about, I think I’ve figured out how to make them work.”
“Excellent,” exclaimed the king. “When can we hope for a working prototype?”
“That’s just it, I think I have one already.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Then what are you waiting for? You have my permission to gather whatever resources you need to get it working.”
There wa
s a pause as the king, for the very first time, started to notice exactly how sheepish the rather shy and retiring librarian looked. Greger squinted, paying extra attention to the repository guardian. If Orac could have retreated into himself, he surely would have.
“What is it you’re not telling me? Out with it!” demanded the king.
“I... I... I... I think I have a way of finding out what’s going on in Ahrensburg, Your Highness.”
“WHAT!”
Instantly the look on the librarian’s face turned from sheepish to afraid as the king pressed forward towards him.
“What have you done?”
“I... I... I... I secreted one of the smaller crystals on For’son before he left. I had an inkling that I might be able to get them to work quite quickly which turned out to be the case. I thought it might come in handy with the... negotiations.”
Ever the pragmatist, knowing that what was done, was done, Greger considered what Orac had confessed to.
“So you’re telling me we can listen in to what’s happening?”
“I think we’ll be able to contact For’son telepathically even across that distance, but I’ll need to head up north to create a booster node first of all.”
“What does that even mean?” asked the king, more than a little frustrated.
“If I can relocate some of the crystals that we brought back to the northern reaches of Scotland, then I think the sonic resonances will allow us to bolster the signal enough to reach our friend from here in London. Should it work, it would be confirmation that the technology could be used across the world to form a network that would create planet wide coverage. Imagine, sire, being able to contact any dragon that you wanted, anywhere in the world? How fantastic would that be?”
