Dragon's Flight

by S. R. Langley

  “Don’t think you can essscape me, Night Imp! You’re not getting away ssso easssily. I’ll drain your sssickly, black blood first!”

  Shlik then hurled himself toward the still unconscious Nimp. All caution thrown to the winds, all he had mind for now was the Night Imp’s blood.

  Roger could see that the Hircumen were still too far away to be able to intervene. He was the only one anywhere near enough to do anything. As the enraged Black Imp charged and pounced, Roger desperately threw himself at him, catching his legs in a rather ungraceful rugby tackle. But as they rolled together, entangled in the dust and dirt, Shlik proved just how dangerous he was, despite his diminutive size. He crouched on all fours, confronting Roger with an evil leer and then vomited an oily stream of black goo right at him. Roger didn’t have any time to think, he hurled a ball of blue dragon fire just as the black goo came at him. This gave the Hircumen time to get Nimp away, but now the enraged Black Imp turned his full attention to Roger.

  “Ssso, you humdrum traitor, you assist your nasssty Night Imp friend to essscape, do you? Then you will die in hisss place!”

  With that, Shlik hurled an even greater ball of his black, sticky goo and this time caught Roger off guard. The oily ball hit him square in the face and he found himself drowning in a glob of the slimy, tar-like substance. His eyes, ears and mouth were clogging up and he couldn’t breathe.

  The Black Imp laughed viciously and pounced on top of him, pushing him into the ground, as he gurgled and spluttered, clawing at his face, trying to get free of the suffocating web of black goo.

  Shlik sat triumphantly on Roger’s chest and screamed out at the approaching Hircumen.

  “Don’t you’sss come any nearer or I will kill thisss one!” he hissed, now suddenly holding a small, curved, obsidian blade to Roger’s neck.

  The Hircumen halted, not sure what to do. They could see that the Black Imp’s goo was slowly suffocating Roger and he’s die anyway, but knew also that one quick slice with that knife, then he’d be dead for sure, in a split second.

  Mr. Briggs had watched the attack on his son in horror. He called out to the Black Imp, ordering him to let Roger go. But the Black Imp was too far gone to listen to anyone now. Mr. Briggs could see he wasn’t going to be able to save his son and scuttled away to radio for more help.

  Then the Green Witch spoke in a clear and commanding voice from atop her snarling Sabre-tooth steed.

  “If you harm the boy, you sign your own death warrant, Imp. Let him go now!”

  “You don’t ssscare me, you sssenile old Witch!” he screamed at her. “Ssso don’t come any nearer, or the boy diesss right now!” he snarled, glaring with fuming hatred up at her. “That goesss for any of you Goatsss too!” he screeched at the Hircumen, now standing some distance away at the edge of the wood, the troop having safely retreated and gathered there along with Mary, Yllib, and the wounded Taog. still gingerly holding his scorched arm and Mary still tightly clutching her Grannie’s handbag, (and her miniaturized Grannie within it, of course).

  It was a stand-off, but one where Roger very soon was going to end up dead, if he didn’t escape from the deadly effects of the oily, black ooze covering his head.

  And it was almost too late. Roger was very close to losing consciousness. But now the Black Imp suddenly realized that if he allowed Roger to die then he would lose his only bargaining chip for himself to escape.

  “I will let thisss little Humdrum ssslave live – for now, if you let me leave thissss place right thisss inssstant!” he hissed at the Green Witch. And with that he deftly sliced at the web of ooze covering Roger’s mouth.

  The Black Imp’s knife skills were perfection. Without drawing one drop of blood on Roger’s face, he cut a slit through the congealing ooze right over Roger’s mouth. Roger took a huge and gulping lungful of air as he suddenly found he could breathe again. The rest of his head though was still covered with the filthy stuff, so he could still see nothing and barely hear what was being said.

  But then he did hear something. He heard an old, familiar voice, but this time, in his head.

  “Hello, Wodjer, I’m feeling mush, mush betters now. Have I mished anything mush?”

  It was Regor. The unborn baby Dragon had at last decided to wake up!

  CHAPTER 14:

  THE BATTLE OF THE BLACK HEATH.

  Roger couldn’t believe it. “Talk about timing!” he thought. “Yes, Regor, you’ve missed quite a lot really, but no time to explain now. Can you help me please?”

  Regor quickly read Roger’s mind and looking about him, using his dragon powers of extra sensory perception, he immediately understood the predicament Roger was in.

  “Alwight, Wodjer, be weddy to wun for it when I says!”

  With this, Regor focused upon the Black Imp’s knife, now back at Roger’s throat. All at once, Roger felt the cold knife crumble into a fine dust on his neck.

  Mr. Shlik stared at his empty hand in horror as he realized he’d been rendered weaponless.

  “Now, Wodjer, now! Wun for it!”

  Roger immediately shoved the Black Imp off his chest and scrabbled to his feet. And ran for it!

  Shlik sat momentarily stunned. And before he had time to take any other hostile or even evasive action, the Green Witch, astride Jericho the Sabre-tooth tiger, suddenly pounced.

  Roger stood, tearing at the congealed goo covering his face, but with Regor’s help, this too was quickly transformed into dust. Roger was only yards away as the giant cat, with jaws wide open, fell upon the cowering Black Imp as the Green Witch now commanded.

  “Get the rancid rat-imp, Jericho. Teach him to respect the powers of the Great Forest!”

  The great cat obeyed, taking hold of the now sniveling Black Imp in his powerful jaws.

  Mr Shlik wriggled and squealed like a terrified mouse; all courage and bravado deserting him as he felt the powerful jaws of his captor ever ready to clamp down tight and crush him to pulp.

  “Easy there, boy!” the Green Witch murmured, patting Jericho on the side of the neck. “You don’t really want to eat the disgusting thing, now do you? I don’t think he’ll make a very tasty meal. Put him down and I’ll use my wand magic to bind him with some green twine.”

  The Great Cat turned his head and briefly eyed her, as if to protest, but he was just playing with the scrawny morsel of greasy, black meat. He didn’t really intend eating such a nasty, horrible creature at all. Like most cats, he just liked to play with his prey, whether it was food or not!

  However, Shlik didn’t realize this and on hearing the Witch jesting about him being eaten, he totally lost it and panicked. The Sabre tooth’s jaws were far too powerful for him to free himself from, so there was only one weapon left that he had available, his sticky, black goo.

  With a sudden wrench, he violently vomited a great gout of it straight into Jericho’s mouth.

  The Sabre-tooth was stunned. He dropped the Black Imp in shock and disgust. The sheer cheek of the slimy piece of filth! If Jericho hadn’t been such an intelligent and civilized beast he may very well have lost his temper and killed the Black Imp, there and then. But he was, and he didn’t. And anyway, Jericho now realized that his mouth was full of an extremely disgusting taste, not to mention the disagreeable, slimy ‘feel’ of the stuff. He needed to get rid of it, quick!

  Regor however, was well-aware of Jericho’s predicament and performed the same service for him that he had done for Roger. Soon the coughing and spluttering and very angry Cat was spitting out clouds of the fine, black dust Regor had quickly transformed the goo into.

  But the cunning Black Imp had now taken advantage of the Sabre tooth’s situation and before the Green Witch could wave her magic wand and cast the correct incantation and bind him for good, Shlik had scampered away and made good his escape.

  The Green Witch wheeled her mighty steed around and came alongside Roger and called to him, “Jump up here with me, Master Roger, you don’t want to be hanging around down there ve
ry long, there seems to be more reinforcements coming our way. I think we’re going to have a bit of a battle on our hands, look!”

  Roger dutifully hauled himself up behind the Green Witch and peering round her shoulder he now saw just what she’d meant. Dozens and dozens of jeeps and trucks were now hurtling in towards them from all directions. It seemed that Roger’s father had managed to radio for further back-up. Not from just the retreating jeeps that had chased them before, but from many fresh resources. It looked like the Humdrums were throwing all their camp-site resources at them.

  “Oh, Gobbledy-Gamow!” he exclaimed, “they’re throwing everything at us; they really do want to capture us, don’t they?”

  “Yes, they want you all, but they want the Dragon’s Egg more than anything. At least those giving the orders behind this murderous madness do,” she answered grimly. Then, turning her attention to the newly awakened, and as-yet unborn, baby Dragon, she added telepathically, “And Hello and Welcome to you, Master Regor Yram! I’m very pleased to meet you at last and I hope to have more time to talk to you later!”

  “Thanksh yous, your Majesty! I hope shose too!” Regor replied shyly.

  Roger could see more clearly now, not from just being rid of the last shreds of the Black Imps goo-dust, but also due to the brightening sky in the east. The long night was at last coming to its much needed close. The new, morning sun was rising and sending slow fingers of red and gold over the distant horizon.

  The Hircumen, ranged in a ragged rank at the edge of the wood behind the Green Witch, could also see the impending onslaught of jeeps, trucks and men hurtling towards them, now at least a hundred men or more, weaving their ways through the ghoulish remains of the burnt-out wood.

  “What are your orders, Ma’am?” cried Captain Caprinus. “Though I fear there are far too many of them for us to deal with this time!” he stated, in his matter-of-fact manner.

  “You are correct, Captain. This calls for deep, wood magic and for that I will need you all to withdraw into the Woods. I cannot risk you getting caught up in the in the wrath of the wild-wood. Quick now, go! Leave these fools to me. I will meet you soon, at the Observer Tree.”

  Caprinus nodded and assisting Mary, turned with his men to the interior of the Green Witch’s wood, and soon the troop had disappeared within its brown and green wall of branch and leaf.

  “Right, my boy, now you hold on very tight. I’ll manage this lot, I think … but I will definitely need to keep my focus – understood?”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Roger murmured somewhat meekly. He found the fantastical Green Witch an awe-inspiring and almost over-whelming figure. Her authority seemed absolute, at least here right by her Green Wood it did. But Roger couldn’t see for the life of him how she was going to defeat this amassing army of angry workmen, all by herself.

  They were trapped, with rank after rank of jeeps and men, coming to a screeching halt before them and now crowding in on them in several semi-circles. Even with the ferocity of a fearsome creature like Jericho the Sabre-tooth Tiger, Roger couldn’t see how they’d possibly be able to escape from this many marauding, mad Humdrums.

  As the sun continued to rise and the ragged night faded slowly westwards, Roger noticed that the Green Witch seemed to grow taller and brighter. There were also streaks of other colors, besides brown, greens and yellows, showing in her hair and her clothes. Pale ribbons of red, pink, gold and blue, mingled in the green tresses of her hair and the flowing folds of her wood-green dress.

  Roger could feel the very air around him alive with an early morning electric feel, as if the Erf itself was getting ready to burst forth and do battle.

  Roger’s father was now standing in a jeep, in the back row of the encircling army. He had found a megaphone from somewhere and through this blasted out his haughty, perfunctory commands to the glowering Green Witch.

  “Now, now, Madam, that’s enough of your wanton wickedness. Return my son to me now or kidnapping will be added to the charges to be brought against you!”

  The Green Witch said nothing. Roger sat still and silent, watching the unfolding confrontation by peeking around her side. The mighty Sabre-tooth pawed at the barren dirt beneath his claws, ever ready to spring upon the enemy and feed on their stringy, Humdrum flesh.

  The hordes of workmen waited in silence too. Fidgeting and twitching, tightening their fearful grips on their cudgels and poles.

  “Thank Einstein’s Eyebrows that they haven’t called out the Government Militia yet,” Roger mused. “If they call in that lot with their new-fangled guns and rockets and such then we’d really be in for it! But I wonder why they haven’t?” he added.

  Councilor Briggs had waited long enough and gave his final ultimatum.

  “Turn yourself in immediately and keep that wild beast of yours under control or we will have to take further measures. I warn you now, woman, if you don’t allow my men to take you in peacefully, there will be more than just a severe beating with their poles and clubs to be endured, I promise you. Now dismount and return my son to me, right now!”

  In answer the Green Witch just smiled and said nothing. Roger realized that she was probably just stalling, in order to give Mary, Caprinus and his Hircumen plenty of time to make it back to this place of hers that she called the Observer Tree.

  “Alright, Men, at my command, surround this cat and the old crone on it. Pole-men to the front and all net-men right behind them!”

  Roger gasped, realizing what their plan was. He could see that it would actually work too. He’d seen several big cats at the Circus being tamed by whips, chairs and nets from just one man and his lovely assistant, and here there were hundreds of men, all armed with scores of poles and nets and just the one, even if a giant and ferocious one, big cat.

  Of course, being Humdrums and subject to the decades of Government propaganda, they had no idea as to the true danger they were all in. Not from the Sabre-tooth but from the Green Witch!

  “I don’t thinks they knowsh what they’re dealings with, Wodjer. Don’t wowwy!” Regor gently telepathed to him as he sat, feeling scared and uncertain, watching the approaching men with their nets and poles. “To them,” Roger thought, “she was just a batty, old crone. Some poor, addle-minded widow who had lost herself in the Bad Wood ages ago, and had then become wild and animal-like herself.”

  This of course was only half true. She was indeed wild, but she was far, far more than just a mere animal. She was a powerful Witch and one of The Great Spirits of the Woods too.

  “Charge, Men!” Mr. Briggs commanded through his megaphone.

  The army of woods-mill men rushed forward as one. Many were twirling large fishing-like nets around their heads, ready to fling them over the Sabre-tooth and his riders. The rest were slowly surrounding them, holding their long poles in front of them, ready to goad the Green Witch and the growling Great Cat into submission.

  But before a pole could be prodded or a net flung towards them, the Green Witch now acted. She raised her green wand and forcefully pointed it down towards the ground, under their very feet.

  Immediately the ground beneath them shook. The erf seemed to writhe and ripple as in the throes of an Erf-quake. This though was no normal erf tremor. All at once several large, twisting green tree-roots sprang forth from the ground, on which the woods-mill-men stood, all now desperately trying to keep their balance.

  Roger gasped as he saw at least a score of long, thick roots, flail amongst the Humdrum horde, some acting as scythes, mowing the men down, some as whips, flailing in the air and threshing the stunned Humdrums as chaff in the wind.

  A few roots behaved like large, coiling tentacles and curled around some unfortunate victims, hurling them high into the air and then flinging them away.

  Within a mere couple of minutes, the large army of Humdrum’s that had, at first look, seemed so invincible, were thrown into total disarray.

  Mr. Briggs, seeing that complete defeat was now staring him in the face, grabbed hold of hi
s bull-horn and bellowed to his men. “Retreat, all of you! Immediately! Fall back. We will deal with this hideous perversion of nature another way!”

  The men, however, really didn’t need telling.

  They were now scattering and running as fast and as furiously as they possibly could. Many were wounded, winded and limping from the pummeling received from the long, thrashing tree-roots.

  Mr Briggs himself took hold of the steering wheel of the jeep he stood in and gunned the engine and drove speedily away, leaving the writhing, arboreal debacle behind him.

  The Green Witch continued to wave her wand, directing the attack of the giant tree-roots with great finesse and artistry. She sat upright and proud on the Sabre-tooth Tiger’s back and there arranged and performed the tree roots twistings and turnings, as a conductor would an orchestra.

  Roots, of all lengths and sizes, had sprung from the ground in greater and greater profusion. The largest of them hung over the fleeing men like giant, swaying, green pythons, occasionally darting down upon the jeeps of men trying to flee and tossing them and their jeeps away like discarded toys, while the medium and smaller-sized roots caused individual havoc.

  Men were running and yelling in all directions, trying to escape from the fury of the tree-roots. The roots wriggled and writhed like brown and green fingers of fire, coiling themselves around bodies, legs and arms and then spinning their victims up into the air, they tossed them from one root to the other. “Almost as if they were having a game of tennis,” Roger thought.

  He also noticed, that as the dawn grew stronger, then so had the tree roots risen, fatter, longer and faster. It was as if the coming of the new day was powering the Green Witch's magic to ever greater power and potency.

  However, Roger also noticed, that despite the obvious power that the Green Witch wielded with the magic of her wonderous wand, she was nonetheless ensuring that no Humdrum was killed. Despite the seeming mayhem being inflicted by the raging roots, no death was being sown here, only a lesson and a warning. A warning doled out with plenty of broken bones and many painful scratches and bruises, but with no loss of life whatsoever.