Bentwhistle the Dragon Box

by Paul Cude

  Ducking down, Tank and Peter shuffled silently along the exposed cross section of the aisle on all fours. Reaching the welcome cover of the bookcases on the other side, both stood up, relieved that no ice bolts had been fired in their direction. Before Tank could go any further, Peter put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

  "Do you think he's going to be alright?"

  "He'll be fine," replied Tank quietly. "Besides, he's got more experience at this stuff than we'll ever have."

  "I know," mouthed Peter. "But he's not done anything like this, since... you know... since he got stuck in human form."

  "He'll be fine Pete. If we work as a team, this will all be over shortly. That's the key to it all... combining our strengths and working together. You should know that better than most."

  Momentarily Peter's mind flashed back to the hockey, and as it did so, a dreamy smile crept across his face. The mere thought of working as a team sent goose bumps up his arms, at the same time filling him with confidence. Normal service resumed, the two friends made their way past the bookcases, aiming to get as close as possible to the front counter without being spotted by the ice salamander queen.

  Meanwhile, Flash had been crawling commando style along the grubby stone floor, with only Peter's phone and Tank's mantra blade for company, knowing he was uncomfortably close to the ice salamander queen's position, the humming coming from only a few feet away, the smell of her icy cold breath being expelled every few seconds assaulting his nose. Lying on his side, snuggled up to one of the small, half yard bookcases, he very patiently and very quietly sat up. Slowly, he raised Peter's phone above the parapet, eyes glued firmly to the reflection on the screen. Nearly frozen with fear at the sight that greeted him, whipping the phone back down, his hands and fingers started shaking with fright as he realised the ice salamander queen was considerably bigger than he'd first thought. Not only that, but she looked... tough, strong... scary even. Unable to remember a time when he'd felt so afraid, even his recent adventures in Antarctica hadn't elicited the same terror that he was experiencing right at this very moment. Quietly, he took a few deep breaths to calm himself, knowing that, despite the fear, the butterflies zipping around in his stomach, the shakiness of his legs, he was going to do what was necessary, because... because he wasn't going to let his friends down. Peter, Tank... Gee Tee. Yes, even the old shopkeeper, he regarded as his friend. Now that he thought about it, he realised that he'd never really had any friends. Ohhh, he'd thought he had... in the Crimson Guards, but looking back on it now, he realised they were only really colleagues, most only associating themselves with him because of his talent and reputation, and because he was well thought of by the dragons in charge.

  Exhaling the last deep breath, he knew now was the time to act. Using the silent touch screen on Peter's phone, he quickly set the alarm to go off after one minute, while counting down the remaining time in his head. On reaching ten seconds, Flash slid the phone along the floor of the aisle, its dark black shell contrasting harshly with the light coloured floor as it silently spun out of sight. Flash tensed himself, ready to act, the mantra blade gripped firmly in his right hand. Immediately a loud, telephone style shrill emanated from the direction he'd flung the phone in only moments earlier. Counting to two, he hoped that the deadly head part of the ice salamander had fallen for the distraction and gone to investigate. As his mouth finished whispering the word, "Two," in a fluid motion, he leapt over the small bookcase he'd been hiding behind and headed at speed towards the front desk, knowing as he leapt that if he'd miscalculated and the salamander hadn't moved from its position, then he was almost certainly dead. It wasn't the first time he'd found himself in this kind of situation, but it had been a little while and he'd forgotten the unmistakable thrill that ran through him at times like this. Counteracting this, somewhere at the back of his mind, a little voice gently whispered,

  "One day you're going to do this and it will go horribly wrong... and you'll die."

  But not today, at least... not yet. The ice salamander had indeed gone to investigate the shrill noise of the phone, well, the front half of it had anyway with the remaining half of the salamander curled tightly around itself atop the front desk, wisps of cold infusing the air all around it. No time to lose, Flash pulled back his right arm and, with all his might, buried the mantra blade into the nearest part of the ice salamander's tail. An ungodly screech echoed from the direction of the phone, as the huge tail started to jump and flail about. Suddenly the top half of the salamander whipped round the corner of a giant bookcase, its dull white eyes filled with hatred, anger and... revenge. Knowing he'd outstayed his welcome, Flash was already moving in the opposite direction to where he hoped Tank and Peter were hidden, desperately trying to find some sort of cover from what he knew would be an imminent attack. As he hurdled an untidy pile of tomes, the sound of multiple projectiles cutting through the air and heading in his direction assaulted his very sensitive ears. Maybe the little voice in his head had been right after all.

  Tank and Peter were as close as they dared get when the phone's alarm had gone off. Peter's reaction had been to try and look over the top of the counter behind which they were hidden. Tank had known better and had used one of his giant arms to anchor Peter to the floor, having a fair idea of what was coming next, and wasn't surprised when the hideous screech echoed around the shop. Waiting for a split second after the haunting sound, Gee Tee's young partner popped his head over the parapet of the counter to see the ice salamander, only a few yards away, sitting up like a cobra, firing a seemingly endless bout of ice bolts, then slithering off in the opposite direction after Flash, its long tail uncurling from the top of the counter, freezing cold vapour evaporating into the air all around it. As the last of the tail slithered off in chase of its body, Tank spotted what he was looking for... the scroll with the mantra on it. Ordering Peter to keep an eye out, Tank dashed over to the counter and grabbed the scroll, causing waves of pain to shoot through his fingers and up his arm, forcing him to drop the scroll. Shaking his hand to try and get rid of the pain, Tank examined the scroll closely. An icy blue grain had formed on the parchment, accompanied by a similarly icy blue mist, something he was quite sure hadn't been there originally. This, he thought, was far from good. With the crashing of bookcases and the sound of books and ice bolts flying indiscriminately somewhere off in another part of the shop, Tank knew he had to act.

  "PETER," he shouted, "open the door to the workshop and then get the hell out of the way."

  Although Peter couldn't quite understand what was going on, he did at least recognise the command and urgency in Tank's tone of voice. Running over to the door, he slid to a halt. Giving it a sharp yank, he continued to hold it open for whatever his friend had in mind. As he stood holding the door, a smooth whisper drifted in his direction.

  "Hello Child. Come to join in the fun?"

  It took Peter over a second to find the source of the voice, but when he did he found himself smiling. There, poking out from behind one of the oversized dragon chairs, were the distinct, square glasses that could only belong to one being... Gee Tee! With the smile still on his face, he gave the old shopkeeper a 'pleased to see you' nod, and turned back round to see what Tank was doing.

  Tank, by now, had decided on a course of action. With his friend holding the workshop door open, he grabbed the mantra and began tossing it from one hand to the other as if it were a hot potato, all the time heading for the workshop at speed. Positively flying past Peter by the door he then threw the scroll down onto the nearest workbench, all the time trying to ignore the burning pain running up his hands and arms. Gee Tee stood up, giving his former apprentice a puzzled look. Making to pick up the scroll, one of Tank's powerful arms shot out to stop the master mantra maker.

  "There's something wrong with it," Tank spluttered painfully. "It seems to be imbued with cold."

  Shuffling his glasses back along his nose towards his eyes, the shopkeeper leant over to get a better look.<
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  "Fascinating!"

  A deafening crash followed by a rumble and a bump, reverberated throughout the shop.

  "I don't mean to hurry you, or anything," exclaimed Peter, "but Flash is being chased by that thing, and I'm not sure exactly how long he can last."

  Gee Tee glared across at the two friends.

  "Why on earth didn't you say so?" With that, he grabbed a couple of mantra pens from a pile on the desk and proceeded to use them to fully unfurl the scroll.

  * * *

  All he could feel was his heart pounding in his chest. It was so loud, he thought he might die. Sprinting around another corner, he grabbed books from bookcases on either side of him and flung them as hard as he could back over his shoulder. Sweat dribbled down from behind his ears, racing down his neck, flooding his T-shirt with moisture. Instinctively he pushed the top half of his body forward, forcing himself into a roll just as two more deadly ice bolts carved through the air where his head had been only a split second before. Feeling exhausted and somehow... different, whether it was something to do with his transformation and being stuck in this ridiculous human form he didn't know, but he did know that he couldn't go on for much longer. It felt almost as if his human fuel tank was running on empty. Even in his most desperate state after being attacked by the naga's poison, he'd never once felt like this. With no time to think, he came to a T junction and without knowing any different, turned right... skidding straight into a dead end. His first thought was to clamber up the bookcase he was facing and jump down on the other side. But the bookcases he found himself enclosed by were at least fifty feet high, and he knew that the salamander would be on him before he could even get half way up. Turning round, he wondered if he had time to cross over to the aisle that lay directly opposite him in the distance.

  Before he could take a step, he had his answer. Steaming with cold and pure, unadulterated rage, the giant ice salamander queen slithered into view, her vicious fangs bared, her scales bristling. Flash instinctively threw some more books at her from the shelves, despite the futility of it. Her snarl turned to more of a smile as she realised that her prey had nowhere else to go. Backing up the aisle as far as he could go, Flash only stopped when his back rested against one of the giant bookcases. She followed him, her head swaying from side to side, powered by her injured tail. For his part, the former Crimson Guard racked his brain for anything that would help him out, but nothing sprang to mind. Having done all he could, he hoped, with what he supposed was one of his last thoughts, that he'd bought his friends enough time for them to get out of this safely. As the frosty queen pulled back her head, baring her icy-white, needle sharp fangs, ready to strike, Flash looked on determinedly, facing his death with strength, pride, dignity and courage. Just as the queen's head darted forward, a look of shock and confusion rippled across her face, before the loudest POP in the world sounded and her whole body disappeared for good. Slumping down against the bookcase, sweat racing down his arms and legs, Flash had never felt so relieved in his entire life.

  Seconds later, two sets of footsteps closed in on the aisle's dead end. Tank and Peter skidded round the corner, both coming to a direct halt right in front of the glittering puddle that only moments earlier had been the ice salamander queen. Both friends had exactly the same thought at exactly the same time... that Flash looked an absolute mess. Both had the forethought not to say it out loud.

  "Somehow I imagined you'd be a bit fitter," Tank deadpanned.

  Flash looked up from his sitting position on the floor.

  "You're kidding me... right?"

  "Well... you know... all that training and everything... seems to have been wasted, if you ask me."

  Not able to contain himself, Peter burst into a fit of laughter as Flash hurled two dust laden tomes in Tank's direction with the very last of his energy. Tank dodged out of the way with much more agility than most people, or dragons, would have given him credit for.

  Sidestepping the puddle, Peter and Tank each offered Flash a hand. Gratefully accepting, Flash let himself be pulled up by his friends. Tank slapped the exhausted ex-Crimson Guard on the back in admiration.

  "Sorry it took so long," quipped Tank, "but you know what he's like... can't be rushed and all that, even when someone's life's on the line."

  Flash just shrugged his shoulders in acceptance. It wasn't the first time he'd been a bedbug's eyelash away from death and he was pretty sure, the way things were going, that it wouldn't be the last.

  Making their way back through the maze of bookcases, stepping over the wreckage as they did so, Tank already had a pretty good idea as to who would be tidying up the shop, and as usual, he was pretty sure it wouldn't be the old shopkeeper. Striding through the gap in the counter, the three of them sauntered into the workshop, just as Gee Tee appeared from behind one of the huge filing cabinets.

  "I'm so glad you're okay," he whispered huskily, patting Flash gently on the head. "I would never have forgiven myself if anything had happened to you."

  "It was a close run thing," gulped Flash, "but you just managed to reverse the mantra in time. Thanks."

  "You're welcome youngster, but it is I who should be thanking you... what happened was a whole lot more than we'd bargained for... and yes, before you say it app... Tank, I've learned a valuable lesson today."

  Tank nearly fainted in disbelief. In all the time he'd worked for the shopkeeper, hardly ever had he heard him apologise, let alone in the manner he just had.

  'Who's stolen Gee Tee, and what have they done with him?' he thought, only half jokingly.

  "I think it might just be about time for a drink, don't you?" announced Gee Tee.

  "I'll put us all on some hot charcoal," declared Peter, looking to be helpful.

  "That wasn't quite what I had in mind, child," purred the master mantra maker, a mischievous glint in his eye.

  Understanding immediately, Peter wondered just how Tank might react to what was about to happen. Dragging his tail in the direction of the nearest filing cabinet, Gee Tee was about to try and reach up when in one leap, Tank jumped and grabbed something long and silver off the top. Slamming back down onto the floor, Tank held out the dusty, silver cylinder towards the old shopkeeper.

  "Would this be what you're after, by any chance?"

  Gritting his teeth, Peter held his breath. Flash stood, bemused by what was going on. Gee Tee turned his head back over his shoulder, giving Peter an icy glare, not realising that he hadn't revealed the old shopkeeper's secret.

  "It might be," replied the master mantra maker.

  "Hmmm," voiced Tank, clearly enjoying every second of the Emporium owner's discomfort. "I have to ask why you would want some..." Tank took a deep breath and blew off part of the thick layer of dust, "Peruvian Mantra Ink."

  As a single thought circled throughout his head, Peter's lips creased into a tiny smile. Tank knew about the ink, and what it really was. The follow on thought was: how? Most certainly, he himself had never even so much as hinted at its existence.

  "Might I ask how you know?"

  "No... you might not," countered Tank, grinning from ear to ear. "But you should know two things. One... Peter didn't tell me, as I assume from your little glance at him, that he knew. And two... you're not nearly as sneaky or clever as you seem to think you are." And with that, in one fluid motion, Tank whipped the cap off the cylinder and let a small sip run gently down his throat. Peter, Gee Tee, and in particular Flash, who had no idea what was going on, all looked on in anticipation. Rolling his head and neck from side to side, seemingly swirling the liquid round and round inside him, Tank's face changed in an instant, but not how Peter pictured it would. A dreamy quality etched itself across the rugby playing dragon's bold, rugged features. Peter could almost see the liquid making its way up inside his friend's neck. Effortlessly, Tank opened his mouth just slightly and exhaled. A long, drawn out, blue flame, tinged around the edges with red and orange, snaked out across the room. Gee Tee, Peter and Flash all looked
on in awe. Just when Peter thought it couldn't get any more amazing, the flame started to curl up in the air and form a shape. The line of flame cut off and then started again, in much the same way. All the time the room's occupants stared in disbelief. Four separate lines of flame hung in the air on the far side of the room, as Tank stood making tiny motions with his fingers. Ever so slowly, the flames twisted and turned and... changed. Changed into four separate letters, spelling out the word... T... A... N... K.

  Surprisingly, Gee Tee was the first to react.

  "Very good. I'm... impressed. Some of my tutoring must have rubbed off after all." Tank grinned and shook his head.

  Peter patted his friend on the back gently to get his attention.

  "How did you get it to do that?" he asked. "When I had a go, it was like a raging tempest that I couldn't control."

  "The raging tempest responsible for that slag heap of a filing cabinet that I spent most of one morning cleaning up?"

  "Uhhh... yeah, sorry about that," replied Peter sheepishly.

  "You two must think I've got the brains of a politician," ventured Tank, offering the silver cylinder to Flash.

  Still a little behind on the conversation, his experience had enabled him to catch up on a few things. Gripping the dusty cylinder, he put his nose directly above the top and sniffed.

  "If I'm not mistaken... 'igneus saevio'... very impressive."

  "Igneus saevio?" questioned Peter, just beating Tank and Gee Tee to it.

  "Yeah, means... 'fiery rage'," remarked Flash thoughtfully, "from my least favourite beings on the whole planet... the nagas. Although, to give them credit, this was one of the best things they've ever produced and if memory serves me correctly, it was specially concocted for one of the dragon kings, a gift for the aid he rendered them in some kind of battle they were losing. A gift that incorporates all their renowned alchemy skills, I might add."

  The three others all looked on in astonishment.