The Dragon's Game

by James Erith

  Isabella studied their position. ‘We’re trapped, Archie,’ Isabella said, her voice shaking. ‘All it has to do is fly over.’

  ‘No we’re not. Look,’ he said. ‘New plan. You’ve got one more dart. On my signal, sprint into the middle of the room as fast as you can, directly towards the plinth, get as close as you can and let go. Physically put it on there if you can.’

  Isabella looked appalled. ‘That amounts to suicide, Archie. And what are you going to do?’

  Archie winked. ‘Trust me,’ he said, before haring across the chamber towards the far side.

  39 SUE YIELDS

  ‘Don’t struggle, whatever you do,’ Kemp said. ‘Just try and go with the flow. I mean, that’s if you can.’ He didn’t intend for it to sound like it did.

  Sue shot him a look. ‘Sure,’ she said. Her arm shook so much she couldn’t find the entrance to the coat sleeve.

  Trying to compose herself she glanced at Kemp, seeking reassurance, but all she saw was Kemp’s smirk. The one he used on her and Isabella whenever trouble was lurking.

  She hesitated.

  The ghost growled his impatience. ‘Is there a problem?’ he said.

  ‘What if Gus is still alive,’ she blurted out.

  The ghost chuckled. ‘I can vouch that more likely than not, Gus is already in the digestive tracks of the beast. I tell you this, so you are not fooled into believing there is any hope he is alive.’

  She bowed her head, the pain of his loss sharper every time she thought of him.

  ‘Are you ready,' Cain said, his tone softer. 'My dear girl, the universe waits for no man — or girl.’

  Slowly, Sue pushed one arm into the sleeve of the overcoat. Instantly, a cold freeze enveloped her, tingling her nerves. She twisted as her other arm dived in, and she drew the front of the coat around her frame. Exquisite feelings of cold, yet burning, treacle-like sensations flooded into her heart, as the liquid ice poured through her veins and into every sinew, taking her breath away. The feelings crept down her midriff, through her groin, washing, like thick oil, into her legs and down to the tips of her toes. She groaned as the intense feeling took hold of her.

  The ghost’s hat rested on her head, and the burning liquid continued its journey up, through her neck and into her brain.

  Sue cried out as the cold flashed through her skull and around her head quickly turning into a heat, like molten iron, which plunged into her eyes. The pain, like nothing she’d ever experienced before.

  She winced but, as the discomfort subsided, she remembered Kemp’s advice to relax as much as she could. She breathed deeply and let herself go.

  She soon realised she could hear, in a muffled way, as if cotton wool had been crammed in her ears. And as she dared to open her eyes, her vision was distorted as if a film of privacy glass had been coated over them.

  She stood still and a tingling sensation in her legs, like mild sunburn, left her wondering what it meant.

  The pain grew, so she moved, alleviating the pain. The same happened to the other leg.

  So, she thought, this was walking.

  Her arms suffered the same sensations, and she learned that resisting movement resulted in a burn, just as Kemp had shown her. At least he hadn’t lied.

  She closed her eyes, relaxing as best she could, feeling for nudges of heat and reacting accordingly. In no time, almost as if by second nature, she could tell exactly what was coming.

  40 AN UNEXPECTED WEAPON

  Isabella heard a breathy hooting sound. Archie’s signal. She took a deep breath and, armed only with a paper dart, climbed out of the gully and ran directly at the plinth her feet taking her at full speed.

  Archie watched her go. In a flash, he fished out the original postcard, now a card-sized paper-plane and kissed it.

  He scanned the chamber. He could just make out the head of the beast, distracted by Isabella’s suicidal run.

  Excellent. If he could just sneak a teeny bit closer.

  He tiptoed.

  Then he glanced up.

  A head, suspended by an impossibly long, thick neck, with smoke snaking out of its flared nostrils, and huge, marble-like, green eyes bore into him. He felt momentarily winded, as if his soul was being sucked out of him.

  But how? The head he’d seen had gone towards Isabella who was, to all intents and purposes, shielding him from a flame attack. His heartbeat quickened and dizziness washed through him.

  Isabella screamed.

  The beast had multiple heads.

  This wasn’t in the plan.

  He carried on running, his head in turmoil.

  The beast arched its neck. A blast was heading his way, but he wasn’t nearly close enough to let go.

  As he heard the roar of angry fire, his foot snagged and he tripped flat on his face, the dart slipping through his fingers.

  Archie’s head hit the floor, and then he rolled. Needles of fire pushed through him, his clothes flaming orange. He continued rolling and rolling, his body tingling as if boiling oil had been poured over his skin.

  He came to a stop not far from the plinth, at the full mercy of the beast. Quickly, he ripped off the remains of his coat and there, strapped across his torso, were his collection of knives.

  ‘Fantastic plan, Arch — extremely well thought through.’ Daisy yelled over, conscious that blood from her wound now seeped over her hand.

  ‘Yeah, thanks,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘I reckon it’s going pretty well.’

  ‘Any idea what we should do now?’

  ‘Old Man Wood might have a plan.’

  ‘Old Man Wood? You’re joking.’

  He twisted around to see Isabella catching her breath, gawping at the two-headed beast who remained on the plinth. ‘Bells, what do you think.’

  Isabella, her hair stuck to her forehead, regarded Archie with nothing less than animosity.

  ‘Archie de Lowe,’ she seethed. ‘If you so much as breathe another word about a plan, I’m going to personally offer you up—’ She spotted his knives around his chest. ‘Your knives! Do feel free to use them. For once, you have my complete authority.’

  The beast’s head jerked towards him.

  It was now or toast, Archie thought, as he reached into his knife holster and weighed up a knife. Then, darting forward as the beast’s heads lowered towards him, his arm flashed forward. The weapon zinged through the air, slicing into its neck.

  A terrible roar filled the cavern as the beast reared up. Archie let another go, this time the blade disappearing into its chest.

  Suddenly the beast vanished.

  Instinctively, they turned and sprinted back to the edge of the cave entrance where they huddled together, edging backwards.

  ‘You’re quite good at that,’ Isabella said.

  ‘Years of practice,’ he smiled, ‘when you weren’t watching.’

  ‘Any paper planes remaining?’ Daisy asked.

  ‘Nah, all gone,’ Archie answered. ‘Didn’t really factor in the fire-breathing bit.’

  ‘Your planning skills leave a lot to be desired, ‘Isabella said. ‘I should never have trusted you.’

  Archie shrugged. ‘It was worth a try.’

  Isabella noticed Daisy’s lacerated shoulder and ran her hands over the wound, halting the blood flow. ‘Looking at the state of us, Archie,’ she spat, ‘I’m not sure it was.’

  ‘There’s one dart left, a duff-shot,’ Daisy said. ‘It’s lying on the ground…’ she pointed towards the plinth. ‘Over there.’

  ‘What about the postcard?’

  Archie coughed. ’Oh yeah. The postcard … well—’

  Isabella rounded on him. ‘What happened to the postcard, Archie?’

  ‘I dropped it,’ he said.

  ‘You did what?!’

  Archie reddened. ‘I tripped, which kind of helped me avoid a full frying. As I fell, it slipped out.’

  ‘Where did it go?’

  He shrugged. ’I don’t know. Could have gone anywhere. I
t’s probably been incinerated, like most of me.’

  ‘Great,’ Isabella said. ‘Now what?’ She suddenly shuffled backwards faster. ‘OM bloody G.’

  Archie whistled. ‘It’s a pulsing yellow mishmash of a triceratops, a gigantic toad and a—‘

  ‘Diplodocus,’ Isabella finished off for him.

  ‘And it smells,’ Daisy volunteered, ‘like rotten eggs, with a touch of spirit, like alcohol, infused with dung.’

  By now, they’d retreated even further down the passageway and re-joined Old Man Wood.

  Isabella felt agitated. She sniffed the air again and crouched down.

  ‘Daisy,’ she said, ’Scour the air. Look for anything unusual.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Gas particles.’

  ‘What the hell do they look like?’

  ‘Different, Daisy. The particle structure won’t be the same.’

  ‘Not helpful,’ Daisy said, her red eyes scanning the air surrounding the beast. ‘Actually, I think I’ve got something. A yellow, spiky mixture of elements.’

  ‘It’s gassing us, Daisy. It’s going to subdue us — make us helpless.’

  ‘Old Man Wood, can you please do something with that branch thing?’

  ‘I’m trying. The beast is too powerful—’

  Suddenly a large puff of yellow gas cloud sped towards them.

  ‘Get down!’ Isabella ordered. ‘Right down, on the floor. Closer,’ she ordered. ‘Heads together.’ With a swirl of her hands, she forced out a pink cocoon. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, holding the protective film as the musty, swirling gas cloud filled the chamber and leeched down the passageway.

  ‘I don’t know how long I can hold this.’ Isabella cried.

  The bubble began to deflate like a balloon with a tiny pin prick in it.

  ‘Keep going,’ Archie said. ‘As long as you can.’

  Beads of perspiration rolled off her brow.

  The bubble soon circled around only their heads and as the gas sank lower, drowsiness began to fill them.

  One by one, their eyes closed and their breathing shallowed.

  With one final effort, Isabella forced the bubble to expand once more, giving them a last, desperate supply of oxygen, but now she too struggled to keep her eyes open.

  Daisy opened her eyes and looked out towards the plinth.

  She noticed that the beast had changed into a huge T-Rex creature and was sniffing around the plinth, its head darting here and there as though agitated, nervous.

  Maybe, she thought, it was readying itself to get us.

  With that she joined the others and slipped away.

  41 SOLOMON UNDERSTANDS

  ‘Q uiet!’ Dickinson said. ‘Listen.’

  Not far away, the beat of hooves patted the ground, walking.

  ‘They’re coming closer. Maybe it’s the gunmen.’

  ‘Are they dangerous?’

  The soldiers and Solomon crouched down, as still as statues, waiting, as the hooves and snorting of the beasts approached through the fog, their hooves occasionally catching stone or clipping bits of wood.

  ‘Put that weapon away, Talbot,’ Dickinson ordered.

  ‘But you heard the shots?’

  ‘I don’t care,’ Dickinson said. ‘These animals don’t mean any harm. They’re probably scared to death and looking for company. No point intimidating them.’

  ‘What about the gunfire, who was that?’

  ‘That was way off, Talbot. If you hadn’t noticed, it’s impossible to see out there. As you’re fully aware, you never fire guns when you can’t see.’

  Talbot slipped the automatic back in its holster as a head broke through the fog.

  ‘Goodness gracious me,’ Solomon exclaimed. ‘Well, would you look at that!’

  Into the clearing emerged a long, ivory-coloured, spiralling horn followed by the snow-white nose of a horse.

  ‘Hey! It’s a pretty horsey,’ Talbot said. ‘And some joker’s stuck a tusk on it.’

  Solomon smiled. ‘Quite right, Talbot. I wonder what else that sort of creature might be known as?’

  Dickinson scratched his nose. ‘A horse with a spike on its head,’ he mused. ‘That’s unusual - handsome enough though.’

  Solomon burst out laughing. ‘Don’t get me wrong, but horses with spikes on their heads are generally known as “unicorns”.’

  ‘Oh, that’s bleedin’ hilarious,’ Talbot said. ‘A unicorn, right, here in Yorkshire? My arse. Next you’ll be telling me there are two-headed dragons kicking about, or animals that can talk.’ He laughed at his words, as another glimmering unicorn entered and stood by the first, both of their long horns shining like polished needles. The first unicorn whinnied, then backed off, nudging its head to one side.

  Talbot whistled. ‘Bleeding’ heck. It’s like a cartoon round ‘ere. Next thing you know there’ll be a handsome prince swanning along with a sword and armour ‘n all.’

  ‘What do you think it wants?’ Solomon asked.

  Dickinson pulled his jaw from the floor. ‘Want? What do you mean, “want”?’

  ‘Well,’ Solomon began, ‘in my experience, unicorns don’t exactly show up every day, do they?’

  ‘Good point,’ Dickinson said, recovering his wits. ‘This lot don’t look as if they would harm a fly. Aren’t they fabulous.’

  ‘Maybe they want feeding?’ Talbot said.

  ‘Or, maybe,’ Gates, the scrawny young soldier said, ‘we’re dead. Coz, these are, like, heavenly creatures, ain’t they?’

  The second unicorn retreated and disappeared into the fog. Then the first did the same, before returning.

  This curious action was repeated.

  ‘By George!’ Solomon said. ‘I think they want us to follow them.’

  The unicorn whinnied and pointed its horn towards Solomon before retreating again.

  ‘Well, there we have it,’ Solomon said. ‘Come on. These things don’t happen without a reason. Let’s try, eh? See what happens?’

  They gathered their bits and, as one unicorn moved in front of the other, the party did the same, making a single file. Dickinson behind the unicorn followed by Solomon and the other troops.

  Dickinson noticed it first. ‘The tail,’ he half-whispered to Solomon. ‘Look how it shines?’

  Even in the fog, wisps of fine hairs glowed like threads of brightly coloured luminous tinsel. Following this strange beacon proved easy and, for the first time, the section found themselves walking rather than scrabbling and tripping up the hillside. The animals wove a true path through the decimated forest.

  Soon their footsteps were surer as the ground became stony and solid. They had moved onto a track or a path. Moreover they noticed that instead of climbing they were on a level, as though walking along the brow of the hill.

  ‘I do believe,’ Solomon said, ‘that they’re taking us to the cottage.’

  Dickinson turned briefly. ‘Really, headmaster? But why?’

  ‘I would have thought the reason was obvious,’ Solomon said, catching his breath. ‘Right now, who is the most considerable threat to the success of the children?’

  ‘Stone?’

  ‘Indeed. And, if I’m right, these beautiful animals have entrusted us to sort Stone out and get there before he does.’

  42 GAIA FINDS A DREAM

  Gaia, the dreamspinner, flashed through her electric maghole into the chamber.

  It wasn’t long before she recognized she wasn’t the only dreamspinner checking up on the Heirs of Eden’s progress. Tiny flashes from other dreamspinners bursting in and out told her and soon she could see many suspended in the air high above in the cavern ceiling and also on the sides.

  Looking into the chamber she noticed a yellow substance mingling with the air. It reminded her of the mixture used by the traitor, Asgard, with his poison-filled dream powders that had spread plague to humans as they slept.

  Was this the same lethal matter? Whatever it was, she knew she had to do something
.

  Immediately she inverted and arrived beside the bodies of the three children and Old Man Wood, who lay prostrate on the ground with an almost deflated bubble surrounding their heads. Reverting into her visible form so that other dreamspinners wouldn’t see her unless they too did the same, she stretched a long, thin claw into her maghole in search of some dream-powders. Moments later, she had converted them into a dream for the old man concerning fresh air. A simple tonic she had used for those trapped under water or in the airless reaches of space.

  She pushed a claw end that was like a tiny needle through the barrier and applied the powder the moment he drew in a shallow breath.

  The old man had regained his branchwand, but, she realised, he still had no idea how to use it.

  Before sealing the hole Gaia pushed in a body of fresh air particles. Enough to keep them alive while the powder set to work.

  A sound from nearby made her turn.

  Asgard appeared in his visible form. Immediately, his legs hummed together in speech. ‘Gaia. Do you meddle?’

  ‘I check if the Heirs are alive, Asgard. For gas and poison is a miserable and cowardly way to die, isn’t it?’

  ‘How would we dreamspinners know such a thing?’ he responded. ‘The Heirs of Eden have little time left in this world,’ he said, his legs vibrating fast. ‘Join me. Let us be rid of this world and start afresh in another place where dreams can still be made.’

  ‘Havilah is a last resort,’ Gaia retorted. ‘And maybe soon, Earth will be too. If this is the choice of the universe, it is also the fate of dreamspinners. There is still a chance, Asgard.’

  ‘You still think they can win, don’t you, Gaia? Did you not see how the Heirs of Eden in their great wisdom sent flammable birds to defeat the beast? A sick universe is one that sends children instead of men. Meddle if you must with the old man. It will not matter.’ Then, with a tiny flash, Asgard vanished.

  Gaia waited until the dreamspinner’s vibrations had departed.

  Sending thin, wooden darts was indeed ludicrous, but these Heirs were selected because they were strong and fast and smart. There had to be a reason for their actions. But what was the purpose?