Bentwhistle the Dragon Box

by Paul Cude

  "Yooooouuuu muussssst coooome baaaack toooooo usssss," the snake-like voice hissed throughout his mind. "Everyyythiiinnnngg depeeeendsss upooon iiittttt!"

  Still he ignored it. Not on purpose, but because he was lost... lost in his own misery, lost in his own family, lost in his own mind. Vasuki's words were little more than insignificant background noise playing out far away. As far as Fredric was concerned it meant less than nothing. The words themselves were barely recognisable against the backdrop of the grief that had stalked him during his time imprisoned in Antarctica, which had got a firm grip on him and was determined not to let go.

  Rattling off a series of super powerful mantras in quick succession, George blasted a hole through the wing of one dark dragon sending it spiralling out of control, melted the sword and the hand grasping it off another, before electrocuting a bold naga who'd slithered out from behind the nearest stack of rubble, leaving a smoking and sparking corpse in its place. While not being truly tested, things were starting to heat up, in more ways than one. And he didn't dare glance over to his left and back across the magically recreated bridge. The last time he'd done that, he'd become hugely concerned at the numbers gathering on the far side of it. To his mind though, things were becoming a little, how should we put it... reckless. Covering for Vasuki's conversation with his best friend, he was having to cast mantra after mantra, and while he didn't feel particularly drained, having the ring back on his finger would at least have provided some reassurance in that department. But he'd only gone and blown it. Relationships had never been his thing... not with dragons, people, and most amusingly, not with inanimate objects. Complacency, it would seem, had bred failure. If he could have his time over again, he'd have done so many things differently. But what being wouldn't? Pushing the regret he felt to one side, a brief lull in the action enabled him to take in what was happening elsewhere within what was HIS private residence. Marvelling at the all encompassing shield that had sprung up around his rescuers, it was no surprise to find the beautiful, young former dragon, Richie Rump, powering it with what looked like Peter's, nay, Fredric's, laminium dagger. Wonders would never cease, he thought, turning his attention away from the shield. Across the way he could just, behind all the bloody battle chaos, make out Amelia Battlehard, a couple of the councillors and what remained of his guard, all putting up a staunch fight against what appeared to be overwhelming odds. Momentarily he wondered if he could help them. Realistically though, he knew he wasn't going to leave his friend, not having just found him after so long. As well, he knew what the guard captain was doing... drawing the enemies towards them and away from him, effectively buying him some more time. Deep down inside, he hoped it would be enough.

  You don't just get to be king of the nagas for no apparent reason. You have to be special, and Vasuki was certainly that. Possessed of no small amount of unusual magic, he had a knack for not only leading and negotiating, but communicating with other beings, something that currently fuelled his frustration. Fully aware of the dire situation they all found themselves in, he'd tried everything to get through to the former prisoner, a dragon he now thought of as his ally. But his efforts had all been in vain. Fredric remained on the ground, tears still streaming from his eyes, mind locked solid, thoughts inhabiting a faraway place. Reluctantly, Vasuki rose up to his full height and turned towards George.

  "It'ssssssss noooo goooood. I caaannooot geeet through toooo hiiiim."

  Fighting off the hopelessness of their situation, a hell bent naga, and two dragons peppering him with projectiles from the air, it was tough for the dragon king to hear that his naga counterpart had failed. Options, he knew, were in short supply.

  Grasping Richie by the arm, almost able to feel the thrumming power from the laminium dagger she held out in front of her coursing through her muscles, Flash was keen to acquire the young woman's attention. Having caught her eye, he conveyed his thoughts.

  "I need to get out there Rich! I need to help the king!"

  Fully focused on maintaining the shield, safeguarding them all, she glanced over at him.

  "I can't take it down... not even for a second. We'll be overrun, of that there's no question."

  "What about creating a gap for me to charge out of?"

  With beads of sweat gradually building up on her forehead, the dagger wielding lacrosse player thought fleetingly about his request.

  "I don't think so. I don't have the kind of fine control I would have had as a dragon. For me to conjure up a gap big enough for you to pass through, I'd have to go even bigger again, and that would give our enemies a chance to attack. It's just too risky."

  Knowing that she was right did little to quell the urgency with which he felt he should get to the king. Trapped and with no place to go was a situation he'd been in many times before, but not when the king's life was quite literally in his hands. Drifting down through all his experience and knowledge, the ex-Crimson Guard searched furiously within himself for anything that might help. Rumours of vibrating mantras that could move a being through solid objects from decades ago sprang up. Almost instantly he ignored those. Next, some illicit experiments with phasing mantras, again with the aim of passing through solid objects, from back in his time with the Crimson Guards. None had proven even vaguely successful. Last but not least, a long out of date report of a reclusive wizard dragon that had boasted about succeeding with a teleportation spell. Unfortunately for him, it was mere speculation with absolutely no details. That left him with... NOTHING! Well... maybe.

  Each one is different, coded to that particular individual's DNA. The words might be similar, the intent and willpower behind the magic almost identical, but what happens when that mantra is set in motion depends purely on the dragon in question. The mantra that holds one of the prehistoric beasts in perfect human form was designed millennia ago. Sure, it's been updated across the centuries, with little additions here, a little editing there, all of course designed to make it more sturdy and robust. Refinements have been made available, something every nursery ring student knows off by heart. They should anyway, especially as they spend over fifteen years of their long lives studying that aspect of dragon magic. With the right words and intent, faces can be sculpted to practically any design. Hair of almost any type and colour can be added, be it flowing long locks running down past the shoulders, to a short buzz cut that never needs cutting. Beards and goatees are now a breeze, whereas once they weren't available at all. Like all things, there are fads. For a while a full facial covering of stubble was perhaps the most popular add-on mantra of all for young male dragons. But it didn't last long. Most soon return to either clean shaven or a full-on hairy beard, at about the time they need to consider two of the most amusing hair traits... at least to them, anyway. Ear and nasal hair always causes much hilarity at whatever nursery ring it's being taught. Dragons have virtually no understanding of such things. While it might afflict a few (with Gee Tee being one of those, due mainly because of his super extended age) most won't have to face that threat for many, many centuries, if ever. To see a dragon suffering from either of these would be rare, especially nose hair. Why? Shouldn't it be obvious? Not only does the scorching flame of hell itself come out of their mouths, it also escapes in small amounts through their noses, whether they like it or not. In a hair versus fire fight, I think we can safely say there'll always only be one winner. So from that point of view it's of little concern. Next in the amusement stakes when it comes to add-ons for a dragon's human shape would be bellies, followed closely by reproductive organs. If you thought a gaggle of giggling schoolgirls at a girls only school being taught sexual reproduction was a teacher's worst nightmare, I can assure you it's ten times worse for any of the tors tutoring this particular subject to dragonlings. Dealing with the subject can last for months, with all the usual crude jokes, (elephant trunks, you've got your tail on the wrong way, all that sort of thing) and of course they've all been heard before. The nursery ring staffroom can be quite a depressing place thr
oughout this period of time.

  Surprisingly, particularly given the crisis he found himself in, all this shot through Flash's mind in less than the blink of an eye. Crucially though, it gave him an idea.

  His training had been different. It needed to be because of what was expected of him. Exceptional... that's what he was supposed to be, and so everything was covered in minute detail. From mantras to offensive magic, evasion to spycraft, channelling energy and healing to killing in the sky. It was all there and about as comprehensive as it could be. Right now, he was grateful that it had been.

  Brushing Richie's shoulder gently, so as not to distract her too much, he leaned in close so that he didn't have to shout over the cacophony of magic that was exploding in and around them.

  "What about a small gap? Could you open up one of those?" he ventured, an appealing look smothered across his face.

  "How big would it have to be?"

  "I don't know. What do you think you can safely do?"

  Dividing her focus between maintaining the shield and Flash's question, her mind raced with figures and equations, working out where best she could form a hole and just how big she could make it without letting too much of the magic currently bombarding them from the outside, in.

  "Maybe the size of a football at best, but it'll be sketchy. As well, I won't be able to hold it long, especially if our friends out there spot it."

  "I understand," replied Flash. "Can we get on and do it?"

  Turning to face her friend, whilst holding the laminium dagger firmly out in front of her, the tiniest of smiles weaved its way through the freckles of her pale skinned face.

  "I have to ask... how in the hell do you think...?"

  Holding up his hand, Flash cut her off there.

  "Trust me... you really don't want to know!"

  Brushing himself off, whilst at the same time harmlessly deflecting away a couple of stray bolts of magic heading directly for him, the monster that was Manson blew out a long breath as he assessed his force's situation, all the time twisting the dragon king's ring around his finger. For the life of him he couldn't work out why he didn't have access to the power it held. If he'd had control over it by now, something that he'd planned for, all this would be well and truly over. But he didn't, and it wasn't, and that in itself was odd. From everything he knew, all the research he'd done, he should have at least felt its presence. But there was nothing, no trace of magic, no inkling that any intelligence either existed now or at some point in the past. Pushing all thoughts of this aside, he returned to the moment and a few of the other conundrums.

  It had all been going so well only a short time ago. And now this! Fate, he knew, could be a fickle mistress, but sometimes she just downright sucked. Now was one of those times, and the more he thought about everything he could see all around him, the more puzzled he became. The reinforcements arriving through that strange magical portal that almost certainly had the stench of naga power written all over it. Clearly those slithering serpents hadn't offered up all their magic. They'd pay dearly for that at some later date.

  Brilliant bright intensity of shocking blue electricity bouncing up off the huge defensive shield hiding the vast majority of his enemies caught his eye from across the way. Glancing over, his mind veered off in another direction. Her! How in the hell was she here, and doing all of this? As far as he knew, she'd been stripped of all her dragon powers and her memories. And yet here she was, a spanner in the works of everything he was trying to achieve. Alright, she'd killed his father, the one being on this planet he'd hated the most, and he supposed he should have been grateful in some sick sort of way. But he wasn't. It should have been him, and it should have happened a long time ago. But when it came to his father, he'd always found it all but impossible to stand up to him. Something inside him, gut wrenching and twisted, had always prevented him from being strong, being counted... saying his piece. For decades he'd had dreams about killing the infamous Troydenn. He'd take his time, string it out and let him suffer for months. NO! Years! Torture him until he begged for mercy, only then putting him out of his misery. But now any hope of that had gone. A quick glimpse over to his left at the humungous, matt black corpse that lay splayed out on the pristine, white marble soothed his aching gut. Pleasure and pain tugged on opposite ends of his heart strings, if such things even existed inside him. Pleasure because he was finally free, pain because the foul psychopath of a beast that had called himself his father hadn't died by his hand.

  Turning back to events across the way, the tiniest part of him, hidden deep inside, marvelled at the young female powering the magnificent shield. In very different circumstances they could have been friends... she could have been his queen. As soon as the idea nestled into his head, he dismissed it immediately. That would never have happened because he'd seen her defiance up close and personal, and there was simply no way at all that they'd have had anything to do with each other. Pondering the best way to deal with the 'Rump' girl and all those cowering behind her protection, he sought to get an overview of everything that was going on. Off to his far left, dark dragons and nagas under his command bombarded a circling group of what remained of the forces he'd found here. No doubt it was a stray contingent of King's Guard from the council building putting up a valiant last stand. Instantly he dismissed them as no threat. They wouldn't last much longer against his unstoppable legion.

  Over to his right, something much more interesting caught his eye: three beings he was more than a little familiar with... all of whom he had some history with... the king of this godforsaken realm, the one he'd already broken, the one he'd intended to make suffer for many, many months to come. George, as he'd once been known, a brave and courageous knight centuries ago, according to his father. What he was doing away from the shield, deflecting and defending the other two, was anybody's guess. And that brought him of course to them. Prisoners from Antarctica, both of whom he'd overseen personally, both of whom he'd hoped would die in the prison he'd been confined to when growing up. How they'd escaped was an utter mystery. Worse still... he hadn't heard anything at all from Joshim, the jailer that he held accountable, the one he'd left in charge of the trap he'd set, just in case anyone was stupid enough to try and mount a rescue attempt. What it all meant, he had no idea. Vasuki, the naga king, was supposed to have been taken care of by now. His appearance could upset the plans he'd set in motion with the rest of his race. It was a good job they'd been magically enthralled. If not, their king might have taken half of his force away from him. As it stood, that really wasn't going to happen. And the other one, why on earth was he just kneeling there, in the middle of all the chaos, the other two protecting him? It didn't make any sense. Had he been injured? It didn't look like it. Then what? Something didn't add up. He didn't know what, but there was something missing from the information he had at his disposal. And that made him nervous. Without all the facts, acts and events became harder to predict. Wildcard elements came into play, as they'd already done over the course of the last hour. It was time to put a stop to all of that. No random fluke was going to prevent him from ruling this world, putting his stamp on the planet that had, for the best part of his life, turned its back on him. Now was the time to act. And act he did. Holding his arms aloft, he closed his eyes and let out the loudest telepathic shout out of his life, encouraging, no... ordering his dark, demonic troops on the council building side of the bridge and the bridge itself, to swarm on over and finish off the puny pocket of resistance remaining. Satisfied that he'd ignited the fuse that would lead to the conclusion of events, the tiniest smile snaked across his chiselled jaw.

  Shrouded in long forgotten, ancient magic, the deranged being known as Earth, Fredric's daughter and Peter's mother, skulked in and out of rubble, using both debris and magical explosions for cover, getting closer all the time to her main objective. Stifling the laughter building up inside her so as not to give her position away, it amused her greatly to see the dragon that had once been her father re
duced to this. Assuming he still thought of her as his daughter, even after her memories had come flooding back, she still couldn't come to regard him as ever having been her father. To see him on his knees now, a supposed mighty warrior reduced to this, bought her tremendous joy. It was all she could have wished for in the middle of this almighty battle. But it still wasn't enough, and that, she was about to put right.

  Through the blossoming explosions that constantly rained down on the shield Richie held in place through force of will, powered by the exotic laminium dagger, Flash, preparing yet another of his party pieces, caught the briefest slither of movement, outside and vaguely in the direction he'd planned to travel. Off in the distance, unnoticed by the trio he intended to get out there to protect, a dangerous woman, protected by magic by the looks of things, cloaked head to toe in brown, appeared to be traversing the battlefield with singular intent. Right there, right then, it was all the motivation he needed. As a pinprick of a hole started to appear at his feet, the ex-Crimson Guard closed his eyes and commanded the bonds of his now fully dragon DNA to unshackle. On doing so, he gave them a totally unfamiliar command, one from far off in the past, one that he hoped would still work, one that he prayed would get him out in front of things and into a position to serve the being he'd pledged his life to.

  With the bulk of Manson's force having headed through the council building and out onto the courtyard before the bridge on the other side, a small contingent remained in case any sort of resistance force should show up. It was unlikely, but this plan had been long in the making and no detail, however small, had been overlooked. Well... almost.

  On the third floor, two dragon guards stood stoically at their posts, ready to fight tooth and claw, ready to unleash the magic that rallied within them. On guard, they fully expected trouble. What they didn't expect was the sound of soft buzzing, lazily drifting up from one of the stairwells next to their posts. Both giving the other puzzled looks, the bigger of the two indicated to his colleague with a nod of his head that he should check it out. Confused about what could be making the sound, the smaller dragon plodded over to the edge of the stairwell, leaned over the railing and looked down. From out of nowhere, up popped two nifoloa, and in one swift, coordinated action, both picked a different eye and stabbed their single large tooth into it, releasing a huge amount of toxic venom. Before the prehistoric, dark dragon had been dragged over the side by the bright, blood red hands of the gaki, it was already dead.