Frozen to the Core

by Paul Cude

  Excusing himself in favour of one of his men continuing the tour, he feigned having to oversee preparations for the planned meal. Their guest bought it, hook, line and sinker.

  Returning to his quarters, the leader was glad to see Man waiting there for him, having been fetched by two of his guards. Off in one corner, a makeshift pile of scrap wood had been cobbled together. Something unusual was going on.

  With little time to spare, he turned to his son and nodded in the direction of the scrap pile of wood.

  “Light it!” he ordered, his voice clear that it was a command.

  “I...I...I...I...”

  “Light it now! I don’t care whether you use your magic in your current form, or change back into that prehistoric monster and light it with your breath. There’s no time for games. Get it done... NOW!”

  Terrified to his very core at the menace behind his father’s words, Man reached within himself for the spark that had been transformed into a raging fire by the lost and befriended naga. Immediately he found it, and so reaching out with his right hand towards the damp, dank wood, he urged the power inside him to flow steadily out. Not quite in the way he would have wished, a stuttering stream of flame erupted from his fingers, singeing the scrap pieces at first, before eventually setting them alight.

  A tension of epic proportions building between them, the leader stomped on over to his son. For Man’s part, he quite literally had no idea what would happen next. Would psycho Father poke his head, or more likely his fist out, and make an appearance, or would the more shy, reserved and polite personality give it a go? Who knew? Not him, not even after all this time, that was for sure. Nervous as hell, he waited to see just what his raffle prize would be.

  “I’m sorry I shouted,” announced his father, sounding completely and utterly genuine.

  His son, however, had heard it all before, and failed to fall for it.

  “It’s just that there’s so much going on, the arrival of our new guest, some of the food’s been tainted recently, running our stocks precariously low. The pressure’s really started to tell, more so now than at any time I can remember.”

  With very little space between the two of them now, as Man gazed into his father’s eyes there did seem to be an authentic plea there, something resembling honesty at least, compelling an almost automatic reaction from the young boy dragon.

  “I’m sorry Father. I know you’re under a lot of stress most of the time. If there’s ever anything I can do to help, you know that you only have to ask.”

  Glassy eyed, his father started to well up, something that shocked Man to his very core, having never once having seen this happen.

  “That’s very nice of you to say that son, and who knows, maybe one day I’ll take you up on that. But for now, I’ll probably only need you to apply your considerable will to the magic. That in itself will be a great help, and may well move us one step closer to leaving this despicable place, once and for all. Do you think you can do that?”

  “Sure thing... whatever you need.”

  “That’s my boy,” declared the leader proudly, moving closer and in an even bigger shock, hugging his offspring, something that had definitely never happened before.

  Man relished every moment.

  At exactly the same time, his father, deep within his mind, unleashed something he’d been saving up since before he’d been incarcerated here. One word.

  ‘SURRIPERE!’ which in an ancient tongue somewhere, meant STEAL!

  It was in essence very much a magical one off shot, a last chance at jump-starting his magic. If the word was pronounced with all of a being’s willpower behind it, (as it had been) and there was magic in the immediate vicinity, supposedly it would pilfer just a tiny amount of power, siphoning it off without the other being knowing it. The leader had high hopes for this, and had secreted it away in the back of his mind for a very long time. He’d almost used it in that very last fight all that time ago, but with all the chaos that ensued, the chance hadn’t presented itself. As well, you see, it was a onetime thing. For whatever unexplained supernatural reason, a being could only use this particular mantra once in their lifetime. After that, it would never work, which was no doubt due to some magical side effect. While Man’s father didn’t think for a moment that it would kick start his magical birthright, he had what can only be described as a cunning plan to use that tiny spark, in an effort to gain a roaring flame, something that could well save them all. For decades he’d sought out the tiniest inkling of magic, in the hope of using this mantra, but of course there was nothing here in this vile place. Not one of the beings trapped here had possessed even the tiniest amount of accessible magic, and that included the traitorous prisoner that his sons had the displeasure to feed every day. That’s right, he’d even scouted him out as potential... but still NOTHING!

  When he’d first clapped eyes on the naga, that had all changed. But it would have been too much of a risk to try it out on him. If something in his alien physiology caused a problem, then it was all for nothing. But his son... wow, what an opportunity! And of course the magic should work just fine. After all, he was still a dragon, albeit not one created in quite the same way. The thoughts of freedom and revenge tugging away at his insides disappeared instantly, he enabling him to shrug off fantasy and return to reality with a bump.

  Pulling away as quickly as he’d stepped in, aware of the stunned expression of his son, he nodded his head in recognition of what had just happened, pleased that once again he’d managed to totally and utterly hoodwink the boy. Gullibility like that was rare to find, he thought. Back to their pre-perceived roles, things continued as they should have.

  “Good,” announced his father. “You may go for now. Rest assured though, your talents will be in great demand over the next few days.”

  Eager to leave, and not having to be told twice, Man marched out of the doorway and, once out of sight of his father’s men, sprinted for all he was worth back to the tiny space that was his.

  Using makeshift metal poles from some of the massive light fittings that had been left behind for them by their captors, a rudimentary spit was created over the roaring fire in no time at all. After that, it was just a matter of fetching the meat that had been in the freezer, so to speak, for quite some time. Since they’d been imprisoned here, nothing but fruit and vegetables had been consumed by any of them. Today would be the first time for any among them to consume a dragon’s favourite delicacy... roasted flesh. But the roasted flesh of what? Probably better not to know. After all, up until now, they’d never had the means to cook anything, fire was for all intents and purposes a thing of the past. With proceedings progressing at quite a pace, all everyone involved in the plan could do was cross their fingers and hope against hope that they could make their own luck and give fate the tiniest of nudges in their direction.

  A short while later, their honoured guest, and only link to the outside world, adjourned to the leader’s room that had been laid out appropriately, smelled heavily of roasted meat, and showed off the finest selection of food available to their humble community. Many had worked hard to put on such an occasion, with most foregoing their nightly meal. Would it all be worth it? Only time would tell.

  Meanwhile, many, many thousands of miles away, in a much warmer environment, tiny little fractures started to occur across the gently curved, matt white surface of the only remaining egg left in the hatchery section of the Purbeck Peninsula nursery ring. In one darkened corner of the room, a short, round dragonling, only a few months old, with big floppy ears more suited to a rabbit, who was predominantly brown with some striking green scales thrown in for good measure in a currently unfathomable shape, sat on his arse, puffing out rings of smoke, or at least trying to, unaware of what was playing out around him.

  Coughing abruptly from having inhaled when he should have exhaled, the inquisitive and slightly timid dragon failed to hear the ‘CRACK’ of a long, zigzagging line appearing on the solitary egg left in the room
. So it came as something of a shock to him when the domed top of the egg slid off to one side and crashed unceremoniously to the floor. Jumping higher than he ever thought possible, he slunk back into the shadows of the corner he currently occupied, afraid and feeling all alone.

  Through a shower of steam escaping from the top of the egg, a sparkling, emerald green, perfectly formed dragonling head poked out over the top, darting this way and that, taking in everything there was to take in.

  Spine pressed firmly into both walls, as far back as he could go, the smoke blower wondered if he should run off to find one of the ‘tors’ and tell them what had happened. But he was too mesmerised to move, intrigued to see what would happen next.

  Sniffing the air for a few precious moments, the stunning green, tiny, prehistoric head ducked out of sight briefly.

  The young dragonling in the corner of the room wondered what had happened. Maybe the newcomer had exhausted all of his energy, he contemplated. Before that thought had even finished forming, a sleek, dragon form tumbled up, out and over the side of the egg, landing perfectly on two feet.

  ‘Wow!’ he thought, looking on from the shadows. ‘That was amazing. Whoever he is, I’d really like to get to know him.’

  Pulling in what was a huge breath from brand new yet ancient, prehistoric lungs, the new arrival rolled their head this way and that, still sniffing the air, wondering exactly where they were. It was only then that they discovered they were not alone.

  A little known fact about dragons is that their inherent, ancient, magical powers exist the moment they are conceived and develop alongside them while they grow in their eggs, taking in everything around them, processing sounds, smells and movements. While the eggs are in the care of a nursery ring, it is usual for music and languages of all kinds to be played constantly, so that the maturing dragonlings have a rudimentary understanding of communication when they come into this world. Most dragons when they hatch would have the equivalent understanding of a human eight year old. This new one here seemed much more switched on than that.

  “Hello,” she positively purred.

  Yes... SHE! That was something of a surprise to the floppy eared smoke blower, who now had little choice but to step forward, out of the darkness.

  “Hi,” he squeaked back.

  “Are you new here too?” she asked inquisitively.

  Trying to pull himself up straight, acutely aware that his form looked more than a little unconventional, he tried to deepen his voice in an effort to impress. Needless to say it didn’t work.

  “Uhhh... I’ve been here a little while... a few months I think.”

  “What are you doing in here?”

  “Oh... we’re on a break from studies. I just wanted some quiet time away from the others. They always seem to want to pick on me. I don’t really know why.”

  “That sounds terrible.”

  “It just is what it is I suppose. I’ve not known anything else.”

  “Don’t the grownups stop it from happening?”

  “They seem to think it’s better to stay out of things and let us handle our own disputes. That was something they taught us almost straight away.”

  “It doesn’t sound right if you ask me.”

  “I concur one hundred percent,” he agreed, his big floppy ears pricking up.

  “What say you and I become friends?” asked the emerald green female, stalking ever closer, a soft shade of yellow now noticeable across her stomach.

  He didn’t have to think about it, not even for a split second.

  “That sounds great!” he exclaimed.

  “Nice to meet you,” she proffered.

  “Nice to meet you too,” he replied.

  And with that, the two friends wandered off to find the ‘tors’, a new friendship forged, one that would stand the test of time and maybe, at some point, even save the planet itself. If history could have taken a selfie, right at that very moment, it would have.

  As the leader and his naga guest tucked into everything the icy prison had to offer, an awkward silence developed, much to his satisfaction. If the roles were reversed, he knew he’d barely be able to contain his desire to ask certain questions. He only hoped the alien looking beast’s mind worked in much the same way. Moments later, he had his answer.

  “I must say you cope with your situation with as much good grace as is possible. Do you mind if I ask you how you come to be out here, under all of this, in these quite devastating temperatures?”

  Pausing for effect, letting as much sadness as he could muster trample all over his face, the leader, jumping up and down inside, let out a slow, deliberate, very resigned breath.

  “It all happened quite some time ago.”

  The naga looked on in rapt attention.

  “We formed an outlying part of the dragon domain, a small, secluded community that kept itself to itself. Often representatives of the dragon monarch would come by, insisting that we comply with this or that order or law, trying to bind us to their will in one way or another. We would of course respect their views, whilst trying to present our own. Eventually we were granted a representative on their council. It was a way of life for us that lasted over a century without much complaint or argument.”

  Man’s father “tried” unsuccessfully to stifle the tears that were building behind his eyes. The naga was moved, hooked on every word. As the tears flowed, and the laughter inside was pushed away, the leader resumed where he’d left off.

  Suddenly, out of the blue one day, a delegation of dragons and five squads of guards arrived without warning. It was a shock to all of us. But that was nothing to what followed. We were threatened with eviction from the land that belonged to us, and had to our fathers, and our fathers’ fathers before that. A scuffle ensued, but we were badly outmatched and for the sake of the dragonlings amongst us, we stood down, cowed before those who would do us harm. On hearing of our predicament, our councillor brought the case in front of the council, all to no avail. For a brief period, we were prisoners in our own homes, our resources plundered by those we stood side by side with. None of us knew what was going on. Undeterred, our representative in the capital plugged away at the bureaucracy, trying to find out exactly what had happened. It turned out that a diabolical, underhanded plot to take control of the planet had been underway for many, many decades. Our councillor stumbled onto it quite by accident and managed to find the resistance that had been rallying against it for quite some time. It cost the councillor his life, but he managed to get word back to us about exactly what was going on. In his last missive, he mentioned that the dragon king himself had sent out orders that the world’s ancient races were to be hunted down to extinction. That was enough to convince all of us to join the rebellion against such demented evil. At the last minute though, we were tricked and captured, held against our will, our homes and lands pillaged and ruined.”

  The naga’s eyes remained wide with shock, so outrageous was the story. But not at any point did he doubt anything that he’d heard.

  Taking a small sip of water before carrying on, the cunning leader delved deeper into his wicked box of dark lies.

  “Rounded up as a community and held deep underground, starving and afraid, it looked for all intents and purposes as though we’d be killed as an example to anyone else that fought against their cause. But that was not to be, because they had a much crueller punishment in mind, something we could never have imagined.”

  Man’s father paused, swallowing awkwardly, visibly upset, barely able to continue.

  The naga, completely gullible, having swallowed every last word, filled in the gap.

  “They brought you here... didn’t they?”

  Man’s father could only nod in confirmation.

  “How long ago was this?” asked the serpent-like beast.

  Having long since planned all this, the words floated convincingly off the leader’s lips.

  “Over one hundred years ago now, although being stuck here makes it impo
ssible to tell exactly.”

  This time it was the naga’s turn to nod in understanding.

  “And you’ve survived here like this during all of that time?”

  “Yes....it’s been a struggle, and I’ve tried to lead as best I can, but honestly... I don’t know how we’ve coped. At times, it’s been one tragedy after another. Cave-ins, accidents, you name it, it’s happened, pretty much all of which would have been preventable with our magic. But as you’ve seen, the cold has held it in check, making us nothing more than onlookers during these desperate times.”

  It was a true tale of woe, or at least that’s how the ancient, reptilian beast viewed it.

  Taking stock, the two sat there in silence for quite a few minutes, until at last the naga broke it.

  “Over the course of the last two decades, I’ve never heard of our kind coming into conflict with dragons.”

  “I don’t suppose you would,” uttered the leader dejectedly. “From what little I can remember, you as a race, because of where you reside, were very much last on their list. For dragons to come for you, would take almost all of their magic to stave off the cold. It would be a Herculean task, one that they’d have to devote all their resources to. I would imagine they’d get rid of the others first, before going after you.”

  The naga seriously contemplated the words. It was only then that the leader tried to close the deal.

  “Have you heard from any of the other ancient races?”

  It was a gambit of course, but a very calculated one at that. Over the course of time, each of the races had drifted apart, finding their own little niche on planet earth, determined to stay off the radar, letting the humans make their own way, well, all apart from the dragon domain that is. The leader was counting on exactly this, right here, right now.