Bentwhistle the Dragon Box

by Paul Cude

  Rip-roaring fires blazed away in the midst of a gigantic, grey, granite table in the shape of a trident. The table must have been ten feet high, with comfy oversized dragon chairs littered along each side of the fork of the trident. At the very end of the shaft, a raised throne made of gold and dotted with every kind of precious gem you could imagine, overlooked everything. Laid out for the dragon councillors who were expected at any minute, the table was scattered with tall vases, filled to the brim with sticks of every conceivable flavour of charcoal, the size of a man's arm. Over the sizzling fires, succulent meat slowly turned on ancient spits, brightly burning chunks of charcoal embedded in each animal. So much care had been taken with their preparation that they could almost be described as works of art, rather than the pre-meeting feast. Gleaming silver plates the size of a car's bonnet were piled high with freshly baked bread infused with different coloured charcoal, chocolate and charcoal pancakes, and of course the king's favourite... doughnuts with a jam and charcoal centre. What little room remained on the actual table itself was taken up by tall, silver flagons of what could only be described as a kind of carbonated metholated spirits... a dragon's drink fit for a king.

  Grand and important as any currently in existence, two important features of the room still need to be mentioned. A giant gold coloured abacus, the length and size of a double decker bus, sat along the far wall, its rails made from pure silver, currently reflecting the light from the crackling fires around the cavernous room to great effect. Attached to the rails were balls the size of footballs, crimson in colour, twenty-five in all, one for each of the councillors and the king. Once the council was in session, each ball could be linked to a particular councillor's mind anonymously so that nobody knew who voted which way on an individual motion. Balls were allocated randomly each time telepathically, because the core of each was made from pure laminium. This process had been used for centuries because it was seen to be the fairest, and made sure everything was above board, so to speak. Stunning in its complexity, the whole abacus looked magnificent against the backdrop of the rest of the room.

  Finally, one last feature needs a mention, if indeed it could even be called a feature. A bizarre looking darkened corner of the room, as far away from the table and entrance as possible, had been given over to something far more... chilly. 'Hot' was the best way to describe the room in a single word (as that's how dragons like it... the hotter the better), and with lava spitting from pillars all around and the heat from the roaring fires, the large room was scorching... apart from this one corner. Tucked away in this section of the wall, deadly icicles draped down from rustic wooden shelves a foot deep and fifty feet high. Individual items could just be made out through the shimmering blue glow that ensconced it all. If you were to look carefully, there were daggers, bows and sets of dragon armour, all carefully laid out. Even an alea that was an exact match to the one Peter and Richie currently both wore was hidden away in there somewhere. Tucked back against a darkened corner, about half way up the shelf, almost totally out of sight, sat a black silk bag, containing a dozen tiny, matte black scales... Troydenn's scales from when George incapacitated him during their fight long ago in the city of Salisbridge. A much more valuable prize it would be hard to find.

  Each shelf was bursting with 'dark' and 'light' outlawed items from ages and wars long since past, protected by the most powerful of mantras, so much so that even the king, should he have wished to, would not have been able to retrieve said items. This cold corner was always avoided by each one of the dragons, well... by almost every one. On very rare occasions, Councillor Rosebloom would casually stroll this way, deep in thought about some council motion or another. He was the only one that ever ventured near that cold, dark and dangerous part of the room.

  With a cold rush of air and a shudder, the large, silver, double doors slowly opened to reveal a solemn looking line of dragons. Slowly, with the king at its head, the line made its way into the cavernous room and once the doors shut firmly behind them, the dragons broke off to make their way to the seats they normally occupied, with the king giving one powerful flap of his wings to land perfectly upon his raised throne.

  With the sounds of crackling fires, the sizzling fat from the spit roasted meat dripping onto the floor and the lava leaping off the pillars for company, the king stood and cleared his throat, before uttering words that have been used to get dragon council meetings started for centuries...

  "Before we talk, argue, discuss and chat,

  First we must consume, eat and get fat.

  Once full to the brim with food,

  Our minds and bodies will have attained the right mood.

  Thinking and decision making will be right,

  And can go on well into the night.

  Let the feast begin..."

  Well over four hours, that's how long the feast lasted, with just about everything being consumed. By the end, only a few solitary crumbs of charcoal lay scattered across the floor. As well as eating and drinking, a few of the dragons, mainly the younger ones (still hundreds of years old) wing wrestled each other, faced off in a fire breathing contest and nearly all had tried to outdo each other with the latest grooming ideas. Some had intricate tattoos carefully inscribed on a few of their scales, others had scales painted different colours to form a much bigger and brighter pattern. Rosebloom tried to show off his 'hair', but most of the other councillors just poked fun, thinking this a step too far on the grooming scale. This was the informal part of the process, designed so that those attending could let off steam before they all got down to the business of governing.

  Of course, the king was above all this... frivolity. Well, mostly. A small part of him would like to have taken part and he could remember a time when not only would he have joined in, but would almost certainly have been the ringleader... organising crazy competitions, egging on other dragons in stupid stunts... The wildest thing he could remember doing was getting nearly all the other councillors at the time to agree to play a game of... chase! Instead of the chaser having to touch the other dragons to catch them, all he had to do was hit them with a blast of fire from his mouth. The king at the time and a few of the more mature councillors had looked on in disbelief, right in this very room, as dragons circled and spiralled, crouched behind the table, hid amongst the tapestries and blew fire across the room. Of course the whole thing had ended in disaster, pretty much as the dragons who hadn't taken part had predicted. In an effort to get away from a dragon chasing him, one councillor had dropped down from the roof, as fast as he dared, turned sharply and sped behind the mosaic of scales, glancing over his shoulder to check if his pursuer was still there. He was, and the dragon in front, watching the jet of flame close in on him, panicked, attempted a really tight turn, too tight in fact, and... BAM!... he ended up crashing into the mantra protected, ice covered bookshelf. The noise had been earth shattering, not just the sound of the collision, but the blood curdling scream the councillor let out. Try as he might, he would never forget that sound. He and a lot of the other councillors learnt a valuable lesson that day, one of the reasons that he sat back now and let the others get on with things. Plus, council protocol dictated that he should remain aloof and keep his distance, something that as time had gone by, he was happier to do.

  But now the feast had come to an end, it was time to get down to the serious business of running the planet. Picking up two of the silver plates in front of him, the king used the full force of his massive limbs to crash them together. Deafening, the noise bounced off the walls inside the chamber for much longer than its occupants were comfortable with. When all the dragons had stopped stock still, the king spoke with all the authority that befitted his position.

  "The time for merriment is over. Please be seated."

  Instantly the atmosphere changed to one of seriousness, as each councillor took his place at the trident shaped table, all alert, focused and ready to begin. Slowly at first, the matters at hand came and went, as was the dragon n
orm, starting with the smaller issues of the day, with the much more important topics being saved until last, the theory being that the council would sit until everything was sorted, however long that might be. By having the small matters first, it meant that things wouldn't be rushed. The record for a council sitting currently stood at six days, nine and a half hours, a meeting that had taken place during World War Two.

  Slowly and diligently, the councillors discussed subjects such as the quality of charcoal being provided to under five dragonlings in the nursery rings; whether or not to grant a licence to a dragon entrepreneur for blanket mobile phone coverage below ground, encompassing the entire dragon domain; the enterprise to drill for oil in the Gulf of Mexico which had punctured the subterranean membrane that separates the human/dragon world; and, the most bizarre so far, the problems of charcoal bubblegum! The king, up to now, had barely said a word. It was of course his right, being king, to let the others get on with it, but to interrupt and offer his opinion when and where he thought needed. Biding his time, he was saving his influence and energy for the right battles, in the hope that he could win the most important ones. Listening to how the latest craze amongst young dragons freshly out of the nursery rings was gum, not just any gum, but charcoal bubble gum, you wouldn't have thought this was a subject that would appear before the council, but you see... there were problems. The first was the young dragons chewing while at the same time superheating the gum with their breath. It was all well and good until a bubble was blown, and then the gum exploded across their entire jaw and face, turning into a sort of glue, setting almost immediately, hospitalising many dragons because the gum blocked their nostrils and jaws simultaneously. Not only that, but dragons had been blowing bubbles with the gum and then opening their mouths. Filled with superheated air, the gum acted in the same way as a balloon and drifted up into the air. Huge swathes of some dragon cities were dotted with large blobs of sticky gum. There were a lot of unhappy dragons, calling it a disgrace and saying that something like this wouldn't have happened in their day.

  Sitting and pretending to listen, the king's mind was on other matters... primarily Antarctica. Try as he might, he found it hard to piece things together from all he knew, from what Flash had told him, and his other sources. If everything that he had heard was true, and he had no reason to suspect it wasn't, the one thing which was blatantly obvious was that a traitor, or traitors, existed somewhere close to him, either in the council or one of the other related departments, maybe even in the King's or Crimson Guards... heaven forbid! So, for now, he was isolated. Having no idea who to trust, he felt lonely, tired and racked with guilt... guilt about his friend, the dragon he loved like a brother, being trapped in what could only be described as dragon hell, and for all this time too. All he wished to do was call the dragon world to arms and mount a rescue for his friend and the others who were incarcerated there. But it just wasn't possible... not at the moment.

  As his thoughts continued on the same line, the bubble gum debate came to its conclusion around the table in front of him. Suspicious for a while, he hadn't been sure what he'd been suspicious of. Certainly he'd lost some of the power and influence he'd once wielded as king, but for as long as he'd been part of the council there had always been alliances of one sort or another and he'd just assumed that, once again, different friendships and associations had been forged and would at some point split and be reformed all over again. But something was different in the council these days... and that worried him beyond belief.

  And then there was his ring. For as long as he'd had it (since his coronation), he couldn't decide whether it was a blessing or a curse. Every dragon that had ever lived would have wanted that ring... well, who wouldn't? It was the source of an almost limitless supply of magical energy... mana... call it what you will. But there was more to it than that. It had a will of its own. It could call to you, act, refuse to act... and just sometimes it would be as though it were giving you a little nudge in the right direction. During council meetings over the last year or so, he'd considered that many of the votes had gone against his wishes, despite his hard work and belief that the decisions in question would go his way. During each of these votes, using the gigantic golden abacus that stood proudly off to his left as he surveyed the room from his throne, the ring had gone nothing short of berserk each time. Waves of spiky energy would wash over him, starting at his finger and racing through his body. It was overwhelming, and most of the time it was all he could do to stay conscious. But the odd thing was, it was only during these important votes... the ones he'd saved all his energy and influence for, the ones he considered he should have rightfully won. For the life of him he couldn't work out what the ring wanted, or was trying to tell him. The abacus was centuries old and was impossible to break, influence or corrupt... that was why it was used. But still, something wasn't right. All this left him with a bad feeling in his stomach. The last vote today was going to be all about Antarctica, and he hoped that no such repeat of the unusual voting patterns would happen on that one. This had been what he'd been saving himself for, and had spent the last week using his contacts, friends and allies on the council, in the hope of influencing the outcome of this vote. He knew he'd done enough, but he'd thought that on previous occasions when the outcome had gone against him. It had to work this time. It just had to.

  After the bubblegum debacle, the meeting progressed a little faster, with the king only voicing his opinion on two occasions... the first when the subject of human/dragon relationships was brought to the fore by one of the councillors with regard to the punishments for committing such atrocities. Paying little attention, still mulling over everything in his mind, when the word 'Salisbridge' caught his attention, instantly he became alert, noting that the discussion had turned towards a young, rebellious dragon from that city, who had been apparently involved in a relationship with a human male. Having made it his business to know all about this, the king instantly jumped into the conversation, startling almost all the councillors, so quiet had he been previously. Telling them in no uncertain terms that the matter had been dealt with, that he knew for sure that the relationship had ended, the dragon in question had fully learned her lesson, that now was not really the time or place to debate the wider issue of mixed species relationships, and perhaps in the future at some point a committee of council members could be set up to look into the matter once again with a view to making a full report for the council at large. This had the desired effect of placating the rest of the councillors, some of whom seemed very keen to discuss the young dragon from Salisbridge. Sensing some mischief making involved somewhere, the king returned to his quiet contemplation.

  A few more dull issues passed, all of which, in the king's mind at least, took a ludicrous amount of time. It was then that one of the councillors stood and addressed him directly. This was the second time the king had to voice his opinion, and in his mind he thought the two matters might well be connected, again in a mischief making kind of way.

  The councillor who stood up asked the king about a dragon, formerly a Crimson Guard, who it was rumoured was working for the king directly, but who had in fact suffered the worst fate possible... he was, as the councillor so delicately put it, "immutable and stuck in the form of a human... permanently!" Not so hushed whispers echoed around the room as this shocking news passed from one councillor to the next, with nearly all of them outraged at the king for employing such a damaged dragon. Words such as "crossbreed", "mutant" and "monster", could all be heard over the crackle of the almost deceased fires. Barely restraining his temper, the king leapt majestically off his throne, slamming down one of his giant fists on the solid, granite table.

  "ENOUGH!" he roared, at the narrow minded councillors. "The dragon in question is undoubtedly braver and more courageous than any in this room. To say that we all owe him a debt of gratitude is something of an understatement, and I WILL NOT allow the words that I've just heard whispered in such a cowardly fashion around this room
, to be associated with him. DO YOU ALL UNDERSTAND?"

  A few of the councillors answered the king directly with a, "Yes," while others nodded, slightly ashamed, and one or two (Rosebloom came into this category) sneered and said nothing at all.

  "Now," started the king, silently seething, "I think that it's time to move on to the main reason for this council meeting... the problems in Antarctica!"

  Most in the room nodded in agreement, while just a few glanced at each other surreptitiously.

  "Perhaps Councillor D'Zone would be kind enough to bring us all up to speed with developments before we debate how best to proceed."

  "It would be an honour Your Majesty," stated Councillor D'Zone politely, rising from his chair and striding into the space beyond the tips of the trident shaped table, so that he could address the whole council.

  For the next half an hour or so, Councillor D'Zone recounted how two Antarctic expeditions of dragons scientists, a month apart, studying global warming and the effect it was having there, had mysteriously gone missing. Also adding that a representative of the council had gone on his own to check things out after the second expedition had failed to report back, and that after he'd arrived at Antarctic Casey Station, a whole series of unexplained events had begun to unfold, including destruction, a missing scientist and two potential murders that were currently under investigation. Councillor D'Zone explained that there had been no sightings of the dragon representative, and that he'd not reported in at all. It appeared that another dragon had gone missing.

  Holding on to his stoic look throughout, knowing that he was the only one in the council chamber who knew what had really happened during Flash's trip to Antarctica, the king was determined to keep it that way, at least for the time being. For Flash's sake, and maybe even the domain as a whole, it was probably best for now if every councillor was told that the representative hadn't returned. If there was a traitor, and he was sure that was the case, lulling them into thinking that the representative, that is, Flash, hadn't reported back or even survived, might well buy him some well needed time to try and flush them out, although how he was going to do that, even he didn't yet know.