by Paul Cude
Nipping around the corner of an intersection, reflecting on his decision to part with the sword, on the grounds of it being far too heavy to carry in his weakened state, the distraction and the fuzziness in and around his head almost cost him his life... almost, but not quite. The naga sent to find Steel had just slithered backwards out of a room marked 'Solar Recovery', in which three giant dragon sized beds lay, atop which stretched fabulously strong solar lighting and heating, designed to revive and rejuvenate sickly dragons, particularly those that had suffered the effects of severe cold. Just getting his head around what the beds were designed to do, the naga spun round only to find Steel directly in his path. Both were equally shocked to find the other one just standing there, and both recovered their wits at exactly the same time. Spinning three hundred and sixty degrees, the naga whipped his tail around with ferocious force. Steel leapt back, but the tail managed to catch the talons on his left foot, rolling him off balance into a small table full of books, newsletters and research papers. With Steel in a crumpled heap, the naga slithered over, determined to press home his advantage. But Steel, despite every bone in his body aching from the freezing cold air, wasn't done. Rolling onto his knees, he grasped the trunk of a huge potted palm and swung for all he was worth. The pot on the end of the plant shattered against the naga's skull with a resounding thud that echoed off down the corridor. Unusually unsure of himself or what action he should take next, an unaccustomed momentary lapse gave the confused naga a chance to get back into the fight. From the look on his face, he was determined to make Steel pay for what he'd just done.
A decision had been made, albeit just a little too late. They'd all finally agreed that they should leave the store cupboard and try and either find the others, or find somewhere warmer to hole up. The problem now was that it had gotten so cold, the doctor was struggling to access his magic and remove the mantras put there to stop the door from being open. And the longer he couldn't do it, the colder it got. Ironic really, given the lengths they'd gone to in an effort to prevent the door from being accessed.
"You need to reverse the effects and get the temperature up quickly," implored one of the medics treating the injured nurse in the control room.
"I'm trying, but I've been locked out of the environmental system. It's going to take me a few more minutes I'm afraid."
"I don't think he's got a few more minutes," stammered a nurse watching the bank of monitors on the other side of the room. As one, they all gathered, apart from the dragon that was trying to crack the computer. There, large as life, was Steel, being pummelled and beaten amongst the remains of a table, barely able to bring his hands up in front of himself for protection. No doubt the cold had taken its toll, more so on his newly reformed scales than it had on any of the others watching.
"He needs an injection of heat... and fast," put in the nurse that had called them over.
That was stating the obvious.
"What about the solar recovery room?" suggested 'Nurse Conscience'.
"I'm not really convinced he's got time to lie down and be recharged. I can't be sure though."
These medical staff, she thought, were unlike any she'd ever worked with. They were always so arrogant and sarcastic, more often than not missing an idea or a point entirely.
"I don't mean to go and lie down on. I mean, is it possible to overload the beds and make that entire area hot?"
"Ohhh," replied the sarcastic one, scratching his bony jaw line. "Maybe it is, maybe it is," he mumbled, wandering over to one of the other computers. "Is it just the environmental controls you've been locked out of?" he shouted over to the other dragon, working hard to get the heating up to speed.
"As far as I can tell," he replied.
With blinding speed, and no thought other than overloading the solar recovery beds, commands were punched in, sliders moved, safeguards and alarms overridden.
Feinting one way, with all the speed he could muster, Steel then rolled the other. Done a little faster, it would have fooled his naga assailant, but the cold and the beating he'd taken over the last few minutes had caught up with him. A solid mass of tail whirled round, sending bits of paper fluttering into the air, before catching him a glancing blow on the top of his thigh, forcing him to cry out in agony, a new and unusual experience for him. Slithering back to the far side of the corridor, the naga now had a huge mocking smile covering his serpent-like face, as Steel, doubled over on the floor, tried desperately to pull in a decent breath, puffing and panting like an overworked husky, not needing to look up to know exactly how much trouble he was in. As he ran his fingers across his ribcage, trying to feel the damage he'd taken, his hands shook uncontrollably. If he was any judge, it was continuing to get colder, playing right into the hands of his foe.
"You certainly don't lack spirit," remarked the naga, barely a scratch on him, despite Steel's best efforts. "But I think now it might be time to concede defeat. I'll make it swift for an honourable dragon like yourself."
He supposed for some in his position, it might be tempting. But that wasn't how he rolled. If the naga couldn't see that, bigger fool him.
"Swift?" gulped Steel, now shivering all over.
"Think of it as a measure of respect, from one warrior to another."
After a momentary pause, still on his knees, Steel nodded and said,
"Do it!"
Slithering closer, Steel seemingly done, the naga gathered up the magic in his mind, ready to release it in one fell swoop. Pulling in a breath, Steel flooded every cell in his body with everything he had left, determined to go out fighting. From the very corner of his right eye, Steel could just see his opponent about to do exactly as he'd asked. Without hesitation, the laminium ball star threw everything into his shield, expanding it as far as he dared, before rolling up onto his feet and throwing himself at the naga. The slippery beast nearly choked on his magic, if that were possible. One second it was there, the next he was being knocked to the ground by an invisible force. Some of the magic released, all by itself, not finding its target, instead lighting up the walls of the corridor on both sides. Steel just let himself go. In the preceding moments, he'd told himself to do anything and everything to prevail, that the lives of those dragons who had nursed him back to health depended on it. It was all or nothing. So on hitting the naga full on, he withdrew his shield and let rip with a stunning mantra, putting all the belief and willpower he had left behind it, while at the same time punching, kicking and scratching for all he was worth. In truth, he'd gone berserk, without even knowing it. To the naga's credit, he gathered his wits about him quite quickly, but not before admonishing himself for being tricked. As he righted himself, throwing the pathetic looking dragon off in the process, he had one thought. 'NO MORE MISTER NICE GUY!'
Steel's head smashed straight through the glass separating the corridor from the solar recovery room. Half of his body had gone through the wall. Plaster dust blossomed into a small nuclear cloud. Razor-sharp shards of glass tinkled to the floor, those that weren't embedded in some way in the laminium ball player. With all the effort he could marshal, he tried to stand, well... pull himself out of the wall. Try as he might, he couldn't move. The cold very firmly had him in its grip.
Helpless to intervene, all they could do was watch the screen, apart from the two at separate computers, who were working feverishly.
"It needs to be now," begged 'Nurse Conscience'.
"Nearly there."
Never before having felt so powerless, she stared at the screen as the naga slinked back to an upright position, having tossed Steel almost through the wall like a rag doll. She willed him to get up. Get up and fight. Briefly she thought he would, but as the naga approached, full of magic, Steel's limp body hung there, half in, half out of the wall... totally static.
Wary of being fooled again, the naga, scratched, bruised and more than a little shaken from Steel's desperate attack, hung back a little, pulling in refreshing breaths of replenishing cold air. He had no more tim
e to waste. No doubt his partner had monitored everything that had gone on and would berate him on his return, something he wasn't looking forward to. It did seem a shame to have to kill this one though. He'd fought valiantly enough. If it were down to him, he would just leave him here with his wounds. But it wasn't. And the orders had to be obeyed, that he knew. Reluctantly, he prepared himself for the grisly task.
BOOOOOOM!!!!!!!! The wall, windows, Steel, the naga and the entire corridor were suddenly engulfed in the mother of all fireballs. In the blink of an eye, the partition disintegrated, the glass melted, the naga was pelted with fiery debris and Steel... well, Steel embraced the warmth, the fire... the HEAT! It was glorious, delicious, overwhelming... almost. All he wanted to do was stand in the middle of it all and soak it up. But he was aware now that the cold had been peeled away and recognised just what the naga was about to do to him, and how much of a threat it still presented. So without hesitation, and as much for the others as for himself, he attacked with everything he knew. With the roles reversed, the naga struggled with the heat as Steel had been struggling with the cold, and after being hurled back down the corridor from the explosive force of the fireball, as well as being pelted with wreckage, the naga didn't stand a chance. Steel was on him in an instant, and almost as a mark of his respect, finished it instantaneously. With the explosive force of the fireball having passed, Steel stood in the middle of the burning wreckage, thick black smoke wafting all around him, burnt, battered, bruised and beat. Most importantly though, he was still alive. A tiny whirring further back down the corridor caught his attention. The security camera mounted on the ceiling turned in his direction. He could sense the dragon presences behind the technology.
"Thank you," he mouthed in its direction. It moved up and down in response. Plodding over to one of the only remaining pieces of wall, slowly he slid down it until his giant scaly bottom hit the floor. Slowly shutting his eyes, he savoured the heat from the blast and the fires all around him, waiting for them to come and find him.
Discovery was the watchword of the next two hours. Heroic staff in the control centre had to use all their wits to work out how to reverse the temperature change, which eventually they managed to do. As the staff arrived to find their injured patient, Steel couldn't remember ever having been so pleased to see other dragons. Heading back to the store room in the bowels of the building, the discovery there was nothing short of grim. After spending over an hour breaking in, they found that the doctor and his followers had all frozen to death. Everything was covered in a thick layer of frost, despite the temperature having been reversed. Devastated, they all realised there was no time to dwell on the tragedy. After a heated discussion it was decided, pretty much unanimously, that as a group they should leave the facility. It was just too dangerous to stay. No doubt others would come when they noticed the nagas were missing. Staying on the move appeared to be the best option.
Next came a discovery that totally rocked Steel. They'd all decided they needed a leader, one voice, if they were to go outside into the fray. It took no time at all for 'Nurse Conscience' to nominate Steel and everyone else to second him. He was about to discover if his laminium ball leadership skills translated into battle. If nothing else, things weren't going to be dull.
17 Biting Back
Where dragon domain magic was concerned, they were the most knowledgeable in Manson's entire force. Made up of academics, priests, librarians and archaeologists, the group of eight had been almost exactly mirroring the nagas who'd spent so long trying to break into the magical creature containment area in the basement of the building, only on a different level entirely, in more ways than one. Theirs, one floor up, was a much more important assignment, in terms of both difficulty in gaining access and in what lay beyond the sealed doors. They were Manson's most trusted advisors, or so they thought. Their task? To find a way into the council chamber and purloin all of the artefacts and items in there. Ever since the first alarms had been raised in the building, complex magical shields, hexes, spells and mantras had aligned themselves in the protection of that particular room. Gaining access had been one of Manson's chief objectives on taking the building, and he was growing increasingly frustrated as each hour passed. Constant reports of their progress, or lack of it, had been relayed regularly. They didn't need to see him to get a sense of his dissatisfaction. It was plain and clear in the communications they'd received. Doubling their efforts, no stone, magical or otherwise, was left unturned.
And so it was that the archaeologist, a particularly crotchety dragon called Ned Hardtoignite, after spending over two hours with his head buried in a very dusty and withered old tome, and having disappeared off for twenty minutes or so, approached the others at the grand old doors to the impenetrable room.
"I think I may have something," he announced.
"Really?" quipped a few of the others together.
"Yes really."
"Do tell."
Taking a breath, while at the same time organising all the information he'd discovered inside his head, the others looked on, waiting impatiently. He began.
"As we know, the power here is intrinsically linked to the consciousness within the king's ring... as far as we can tell, anyway. It's a good bet that the safeguards on this door are in some way connected. I think I've found a way to fool the door into thinking we have the ring."
From the looks on their faces, he knew he had their complete and undivided attention. He just hoped he was right.
"So what's the plan?" asked one of the priests inquisitively.
"Legend has it," explained Hardtoignite, "that tens of thousands of years ago, an envoy of the dragon king at the time was betrayed by the leaders of the lands he was trying to bring together. On the pretence of an alliance, the envoy, on the instructions of the king, was ordered to the land in question, that we now call Scandinavia but was then known as Ahrensburg. The leader of this cold and desolate territory was renowned for his hatred of the bipeds of his land, and for just how brutally he hunted and tortured them for sport. Not only that but the dragons he ruled lived in poverty and constant fear. It was hoped that by bringing Ahrensburg into what was rapidly becoming a growing coalition of dragon states, all under one supposed banner, that these traits, amongst other distasteful practices, could be outlawed and everyone could benefit from a much more cohesive and stable planet. It was all a ruse, however. The Ahrensburg leader had no desire to align himself with anyone, let alone dragons he considered weak and submissive. So when the envoy, a brave, battle hardened dragon called For'son Flail arrived, he was greeted in the usual way. All the diplomatic courtesies were extended, with a huge feast laid on in his honour. A fabulous time was had by all. By now you can probably guess where this is going. Each and every diplomat in the group of visiting dragons was poisoned, with For'son forced to watch as his defenceless retinue were slaughtered in front of him. Vowing retribution whilst trying every form of magic he knew, he was tortured for weeks, before eventually succumbing to the same deadly poison. This one event started a war that would last over twenty years, one of the deadliest in the planet's history. Some two decades later, what was left of For'son's body was repatriated, on the orders of the king himself."
"That's all very interesting," exclaimed one of the librarians, "but what the hell has it got to do with getting us into the council chamber?"
"Patience my friend, patience. I'm coming on to that."
"I do hope so. As someone who's spent nine decades working in a library, you can be sure I've had my fill of tall tales."
Ignoring the librarian, Hardtoignite continued.
"It turns out that the king and For'son had a much deeper relationship than anyone first knew. They had both fought alongside each other in an earlier time and had maintained that friendship throughout the ages. Distraught at the loss of his friend, it's rumoured, and it's only a rumour, that the king, in tribute to his friend, had an expensive, intricately crafted ring made to honour him."
"Y
ou're telling us the ring that the king had made is the one on the current monarch's finger."
"It would appear so."
"So exactly how on earth does that help us?"
"When the king had the ring made, he made sure the crafting dragons included some of For'son himself."
All listening intently, the rest of the group inhaled simultaneously.