Bentwhistle the Dragon Box

by Paul Cude

  Peter could feel his temperature rising as though it was about to shoot through the roof, and had decided to just admit that he had no idea why he'd been summoned. Before he could do that though, the councillor began to speak.

  "You have been summoned here today due to the untimely death of Mark Hiscock. My understanding is that you now hold the highest position of any dragon throughout the Cropptech company. Is that correct?"

  Peter was so relieved to hear that this was all about his job, and not any of the crazy ideas that had been going through his head beforehand, that he managed in one go to bring his body temperature right down, looking both calm and composed at the same time.

  "That's correct," he agreed, nodding his head.

  "Well, as I'm sure you're aware, we take a great deal of interest in what goes on there, mainly due to it being the leader in the field of extracting and processing laminium. Our domain would be in grave trouble if something untoward should happen to Cropptech. It's vital that every precaution is taken to safeguard its wellbeing."

  Peter nodded his head in agreement with everything the councillor said, wondering where on Earth all of this was going.

  "Mark Hiscock was always the Council's point of contact within Cropptech. That responsibility has now fallen to you. So you might find from time to time you get asked to speak to Mr Garrett about specific arrangements that have been made, sometimes about deliveries, often about newly found deposits in out of the way places. You can liaise with this office any time you like, and if there are any problems or anything you're worried about regarding your work, please don't hesitate to bring them to me directly. I will give you my card on the way out."

  Sitting in the huge oversized chair, his tail dangling through the hole in the back, its tip flicking against the floor every now and then, Peter felt a great weight had been lifted off him.

  'At last,' he thought, 'somebody I can turn to and trust about all the odd things that have been happening at work. Somebody that will know the right thing to do.'

  Rosebloom leaned across the desk and said,

  "Anything you're unsure of or want to ask?"

  "There is something actually," he replied, relieved to be passing the burden of Manson and his antics on to somebody else. Over the next ten minutes, he sat and outlined what had been going on at Cropptech, particularly the effect he seemed to be having on Al Garrett and the ever changing state of power. Much to Peter's delight, the councillor sat and listened very carefully to every word that he'd said, even at one point jotting down notes on a pad, despite his perfect recall.

  "So you see, after the funeral I spoke at length with Gee Tee and he suggested we use a mantra to cancel out the toxic effects in Mark's house and..."

  "Hold on a minute Bentwhistle," ordered Rosebloom. "Gee Tee?"

  "Yes that's right. My best friend Tank works at his Mantra Emporium in London and that's how I got to know him and he suggested..."

  "ENOUGH!" roared the councillor, slamming his wings onto the table, causing all his papers to fly off in different directions.

  Shocked by the outburst he'd just provoked, Peter remained seated and wide-eyed as Rosebloom leaned across the counter, so close that Peter could almost taste the acrid stench of his smoky breath.

  "That old dragon is nothing more than a meddling idiot, with barely any idea about mantras or any other dragon lore that he claims to understand," the councillor admonished.

  Not quite sure what kind of reaction was expected of him, Peter sat stock still and remained silent. The councillor pulled himself back to his side of the desk and bent down to retrieve some of the things that had flown onto the floor in his fit of rage that now seemed to be over. After a few minutes passed in total silence, and Rosebloom had finally returned everything to its rightful place on the desk, he turned once again to face a very intimidated Peter.

  "Listen very carefully... Bentwhistle," Rosebloom ventured, with an edge to his voice, "as I'm only going to tell you this once. I don't want any more of this Gee Tee nonsense. Do you understand?"

  Peter started to open his mouth to protest, but read the glint in Rosebloom's eyes and decided against it, realising he was only going to make his predicament worse.

  "That dragon," continued the councillor, "is nothing but trouble, and if I find out that he is in any way involved in events taking place at Cropptech, then there will be serious repercussions for you... Bentwhistle. Do I make myself clear?"

  Peter slumped in the chair and nodded obediently.

  "Now... get out of my office," instructed the councillor, gesturing towards the door. "And I would suggest you use your initiative to take care of that Manson fellow. After all he is only human, and shouldn't present too much of a challenge even for you."

  Closing the door gently on the way out, Peter breathed a sigh of relief, wanting to sit down and sort out his thoughts, but desperate to leave the building and be as far away as possible from the irritable councillor. Hurriedly, he followed the same route out as he'd come in, not once appreciating the majestic surroundings he found himself caught up in. On reaching the exit, he bounded down the outside steps two at a time, getting disapproving looks from the dragons that had stopped to gaze into the bubbling lava pools. He didn't care. But once out of sight of the council building, he had no idea what to do next. His head was buzzing from all the things going on inside it. Continuing to walk, all he could think was that he needed somebody to talk to. But who? Tank, Richie, Gee Tee... oh, he just couldn't decide. Looking up, he found that his prehistoric body had taken him back to the monorail station of all places. Instead of boarding the waiting carriage that would have taken him home in the blink of an eye, he opted to sit down in one of the very few seats on the platform, watching the steady stream of dragon passengers coming and going. He had never really thought about it before, but he supposed the reason there weren't many seats at monorail stations in general, unlike the railway stations above, was that nobody ever had to wait more than a couple of minutes for the monorail to arrive. Yet another contrast between the two worlds he loved.

  Frustrated, and not for the first time today, he buried his head in between his wings, confused and unable to come up with a course of action. He was so consumed with his own predicament that he failed to notice somebody slide into the oversized chair next to him. After a few more minutes of self pity, he decided that he would be better off at home. Unfurling his wings, he noticed for the first time the occupant of the next chair. It was the old man, the same one who used to come and watch him in the nursery ring. What a coincidence! Unusually in human form... well, for anyone around here, he looked much the same as Peter remembered him, but with slightly longer grey hair and a face that looked just a little more weary and tired, despite the fact that it was currently flashing him, a great big smile.

  "Peter, isn't it?"

  "That's right," he replied. "Long time no see. Fancy meeting you here," he said noticing that the old man was staring intently at the trident hanging around his neck.

  The old man managed to tear his gaze away from the trident long enough to look Peter in the eye.

  "I have an office close by and was just on my way to catch the monorail when I thought I recognised those markings," he said, motioning towards the bent whistle markings on Peter's body.

  Peter nodded his head, and asked,

  "Have you been back to the nursery ring recently? I go when I can but it's not as often as I'd like."

  The dragon in his old man guise smiled, a faraway expression etched into his face.

  "I've not been back for quite some time. Like you, finding the time becomes increasingly difficult."

  Peter nodded in agreement.

  "So anyway young Peter, you look... troubled."

  "More than you could ever know," Peter uttered in reply.

  Stroking his grey stubbly chin, the old man considered Peter's words carefully.

  "Perhaps it would help to talk about it. I'm a very competent listener you know."

/>   Shaking his head, Peter stressed,

  "I've already told too many people about it as it is, but thanks anyway."

  "No problem," said the old man, getting out of his chair to continue his journey. But before he did so, he turned to Peter and added,

  "This may not be much help, and I don't know the details of your dilemma, but having witnessed some of your time in the nursery ring, I have little doubt that you will make the right decision in whatever it is that you have to do. I've always found that trusting my gut instinct has served me well, whatever the situation. Go with your gut feeling and trust your friends. It will all work out for the best, of that I'm totally convinced."

  As the old man staggered off down the platform, Peter was left speechless at what he'd said. Bounding up from his seat, he raced after the old man, finally catching up with him just as the next carriage arrived.

  "Who are you?" Peter asked. "I don't even know your name."

  "Trust me, it's much better that way," the old man replied, and with that he squeezed his way through the closing doors of the carriage.

  As the monorail pulled away, Peter locked eyes with the old man through the window of the double doors and sensed there was much more to him than there seemed. With the glistening silver carriages having disappeared into the dark circumference of the tunnel, Peter stood stock still on the platform for a few minutes, pondering the encounter that made him feel more than a little... uncomfortable. But the more he thought about it, the more the words the old man had uttered made sense. He regarded himself as a great judge of character (don't we all), and thought that he had the best friends on the planet. All of which led him to believe that he should go and see Gee Tee, no matter what that... berk of a councillor... thought.

  With a course of action decided upon, Peter startled himself out of his daze and looked around the platform to see where the cross-London monorail would depart from. He garnered the required information from the nearest LCD screen and noticed just how busy it had become since he'd arrived. Carriages were turning up full to the brim with dragons decadently dressed, brightly coloured cloaks, hats and even tights seemed to be the order of the evening, the kind of wear generally reserved for some sort of ball or formal dinner.

  Instead of using the bridge provided, Peter flapped his wings twice and delicately looped over to the opposite platform. He could of course have taken a flying jump, but that in itself presented an ever present danger. Although there wasn't one due any time soon, it wasn't a given that a monorail wouldn't come charging through the station at top speed. Occasionally heavy test rigs filled with equipment ran the line, and were to say the least, unpredictable. If anyone were hit by one of these, then all of their dragon abilities, along with the services of the nearest dragon medical facility, would be required to keep them firmly in the land of the living. So although it was okay for passengers to cross the tracks themselves, the unwritten rule was that they should allow enough height not to get hit by an onrushing carriage, something that seemed prudent to say the least, and was in the most part obeyed.

  As he stood waiting for his ride to arrive, it suddenly occurred to him that it being Saturday evening, the Mantra Emporium would be well and truly shut, and he had no idea whether Gee Tee lived at that address or not. He could have phoned Tank to ask him, but he hadn't brought his phone with him. There had seemed no point. Much as it was a handy piece of technology, for the most part they didn't work underground. The domain was catching onto the fact that they needed to address the issue, what with so many of their kind working and supposedly living amongst the humans. To be out of touch when they returned to their true home for any period of time had started to become more than just an inconvenience. There were a few places that had transmitters which acted as boosters to the very different phone networks, but not nearly enough. It was something the Council had agreed was a very high priority to sort out. He supposed here in London was no doubt one of those places that he could have gotten a signal, had he thought to bring his phone with him.

  'Oh well', he thought to no one but himself.

  As the lights of the carriage he was expecting appeared in the darkness of the very narrow tunnel, he decided he would go to the Emporium anyway and see if the old shopkeeper was there. It wasn't as though he had anything better to do. Squeezing past more partygoers alighting, he boarded the monorail for the three and a half minute journey, including stops.

  Disembarking, he made his way towards the Emporium feeling almost claustrophobic in the confined narrow streets and alleys after the openness and freedom surrounding the council building from where he'd just come.

  Hardly anybody appeared to be about away from the monorail station, which he thought odd, as the only other times he'd been this way there had always been plenty of dragons around. But not now, it seemed. Finally reaching the door of the Mantra Emporium, he knocked and waited. After two minutes of no response, he knocked and waited again. Still no reply. Peter took a few paces back and looked up at the front of the building. A dim light shone out of a small, grubby, first floor window. Peter gave it one more go, knocking as hard as he dared on the wooden front door. Waiting another three minutes without any response, he decided to leave. Just as he did, a noise from above caught his attention. The small grubby window creaked open slightly and Gee Tee's nose poked out.

  "Hello. Who's there?" remarked the old shopkeeper from above.

  "It's me... Peter. Peter Bentwhistle. Tank's friend," said Peter, trying unsuccessfully to whisper.

  Gee Tee's head disappeared, and then, after some fumbling, reappeared with his glasses firmly attached to his nose. As the old dragon looked down from the window at him, Peter found himself suppressing a laugh, due to the fact that the master mantra maker was wearing a red and white stripy night cap, and looked like something from a Victorian story.

  "Ah... youngster," chided Gee Tee. "Don't you know what time it is?"

  "It's five past seven," replied Peter hesitantly. "I'm sorry if I've woken you."

  "Five past seven? Really? In the evening?” queried the old shopkeeper.

  "Yes," replied Peter, nodding vigorously.

  "Hey ho," laughed Gee Tee, throwing something in Peter's direction.

  Stretching out, Peter caught the object, which turned out to be a brass key, much to his surprise.

  "Let yourself in and lock the door behind you," ordered the shopkeeper. "I'll be down shortly."

  Peter slid the key into the lock and after about thirty seconds managed to jiggle it so that the door opened. Entering the shop, which was now in total darkness, he proceeded to try and lock the door back up, which to his amazement took longer than it had to open it. Eventually he managed it, by which time a light had appeared at the back of the shop, in an area that Peter had never seen before. He could just make out Gee Tee making his way down a steep set of stairs, painfully slowly. Weaving his way in and out of the bookcases, Peter skilfully avoided piles and piles of disregarded books, which by now would have tripped up almost any human, on his way to meet his host at the bottom of the stairs.

  It was only when he reached the base of the stairs, that it dawned on him exactly how old and frail the elderly dragon really was. He suddenly felt racked with guilt about involving the old shopkeeper in any of this. What had he done? Why couldn't he handle things on his own, as Rosebloom had suggested? These thoughts ran through his mind as he watched Gee Tee negotiate the last two steps. Poking his glasses as far up his nose as they would go, the master mantra maker leant forward so that Peter could feel the old dragon’s breath on his face. The old shopkeeper looked right into his eyes and just stared for what seemed like an eternity. Peter felt like he was back at the nursery ring, under the scrutiny of one of the stricter tors.

  "I'm sorry you have to see me like this child," whispered Gee Tee, "but I don't need your sympathy or pity."

  Peter was shocked. Was the shop owner reading his mind, he wondered? Before he had a chance to ask, Gee Tee continued.


  "Your expression says it all child. When you've lived as long as I have, you tend to pick up a thing or two."

  Peter felt relieved that the old dragon hadn't been reading his mind, but was still concerned that he'd got him involved and had woken him up.

  "Do you know why I don't need your pity, child?"

  Peter shook his head and stared at the wooden floor.

  "I don't need it because I've lived longer already than any other dragon in history my young fellow,” said Gee Tee cheerfully. "And I don't intend on getting deep fried in lava just yet, thank you very much."

  Peter felt the tip of Gee Tee's wing under his chin, pulling his face up from the floor.

  "I've had a wonderful life, child. The most amazing adventures. I wouldn't change a single thing. How many dragons can say that? Eh? And most importantly, if I want to help someone, like I've helped others many times before, then I think that should be my choice. Don't you?"

  Peter looked up at the old dragon, lost for words. There was such passion in his face. His eyes seemed full of... adventure and mystery. He just nodded his head in acknowledgment. As he did so, Gee Tee caught sight of the trident which hung from the chain around Peter's neck. Leaning in close, the old shopkeeper put the tip of one wing under the chain, pulling it taut.

  "Just when I think I've seen everything, something jumps up and bites me on the bum, as if to prove me wrong," pondered the master mantra maker, shaking his head.

  Without another word, the old dragon relinquished his grip on the chain and turned away, walking over to the counter. Leaning over it he flicked a switch, and the room suddenly becoming bathed in light. Hobbling off towards the workshop, the old shopkeeper turned towards Peter.

  "Let's see if we can't find something to drink and then you can tell me what brings you here at this... early hour," he muttered with laughter in his voice.

  "Do you want me to boil the kettle?" Peter offered, pointing off towards the small kitchen.