by Paul Cude
Nodding in agreement, Greger could clearly see the advantages, knowing more than most just how important real time communications could be to the regime that he’d set in place across most of the planet, for instance in responding to emergencies of any kind, such as natural disasters as well as potential insurgencies or rogue magic users. The potential was almost endless, he had to admit. And being able to contact his friend during the risky negotiations he was now stuck in the middle of, brought him a little comfort, knowing full well that For’son had only really agreed because of their special friendship. Getting this up and running, he decided, was of the utmost importance.
“Take whatever you need to get this done, Orac. Our full resources are at your disposal. I want to know when it’s possible to safely contact our friend. Make haste.”
Bowing as he left, he shouted back over his shoulder.
“Yes Majesty... I’m on it.”
Watching the back of the librarian scuttle off out of the room, Greger couldn’t help but wonder if he’d done the right thing, not so much sending Orac to get the crystals to work, but having sent his friend and protector to Ahrensburg. The more he thought about it, the more a nagging sense of doom chomped away at the lower part of his stomach. Trying to suppress it, telling himself, quite unsuccessfully, it was nothing, he went back to work, wondering what the hell was going on in the frosty far north.
Hemmed in all around by what remained of the diplomatic contingent that had been sent to meet them, For’son’s group of dignitaries had for the most part remained silent across their group link as they soared through the skies of Ahrensburg, taking in all the unusual sights below, most of them covered in snow, ice and frost, the most unwelcoming climate and landscape for any sort of dragon, let alone those unused to the surroundings.
Brave and courageous as he was, the circumstances they all found themselves in even had For’son worried, and that was saying something. Normally optimistic, bright, forward thinking, in the past little had ever really unnerved him. But here and now he felt a chill, and not one related to the bitterly cold temperatures they found themselves battling. Something dark and insidious was in the air, of that he was sure. But what, he just couldn’t put his talon on, and so out of options, and with little choice, he soldiered on, surrounded at every angle by the natives designated to bring them all to their leader. It felt very much like a chicken being delivered to the fox itself. Worried for the rest of those he was responsible for, he continued riding the nippy updrafts, pleased, at least for the time being, that his supernatural powers were deflecting the cold as they’d been designed to do. Without them, he’d be done for.
Encompassed by evil looking monstrous beasts on all sides, that wore their scars of battle with pride and anything but humility, the mood amongst the diplomats who had been selected to accompany For’son was sombre and serious, with all of them now having some idea of just what they’d let themselves in for. If this was how it had started, what on earth would be there to greet them in the capital, they all wondered. To a being they were scared and not just a little, but were determined to do their job to the best of their ability and return home to see their families, one way or the other. Little did they know that Fate had other designs on them.
Far below, desolate frost covered plains came and went, little or no life at all visible, only long, pale green grass stretching in the harsh winds, almost always bending over backwards, the force of nature hammering home constantly. Frost encrusted lakes came and went, their flying images perfectly reflected in the thick pack ice that covered the surface, again not a single sign of life. Off in the distance, snow capped mountains rose up out of the earth, standing proud, resembling soldiers on the parade ground, respectful and quiet, some ready to erupt at any moment, noxious fiery fumes visible even at this distance. They served as a constant reminder of not only the dangers of this realm, but of just how foreign and outlandish it all was.
Although there was no chat through their telepathic link that remained constantly open at all times, it was at least briefly possible to feel another’s emotions if they were left unchecked, something that the youngest of them all, Fanti, seemed to be struggling with. Not wholly unused to this situation, Thomas, the most senior of the diplomats, tried very carefully to send back a sense of reassurance and stability, encouraging the youngster to focus her mind on the tasks before her, hoping that in itself would distract her enough to get through all this.
Travelling light, with just three of the king’s usual guards accompanying him, Orac touched down on one of the outlying northern isles of Scotland, three hours after his conversation with the king had ended. Fighting off the biting cold winds and the chill in the air, the librarian, having found a suitably protected environment in the form of a cave that extended back some thirty or so metres, leaving the elements well behind, opened out his bag of crystals, and selecting the most suitable surface he could see, started to use his magic to integrate the gemstones onto the side of the walls in the hope that they would maintain their integrity and serve the purpose they seemed to have been designed for.
Occasionally glancing over their shoulders at the eccentric librarian they knew the king favoured, the three hulking great dragons, one mostly yellow in colour, the next a dull, matt grey with the exception of his head that was nearly all white, the last crimson and orange, all stood back within the cave, guarding the entrance, ready for any threat, not that there should have been one, aware that the mission they’d been chosen for was important, but not understanding the details, only that they should give the librarian as much latitude as he required to get the job done. Vague didn’t begin to cover the commands that they’d been given, they all thought simultaneously, but they were as professional as they came, and very stoically got on with the mission they’d been tasked with.
Across one wall inside the grotto, Orac had lined up a series of transparent white crystals in all lengths, shapes and sizes, his supernatural power having fused them permanently in place to the dark, surrounding rock. With that completed, next he used the remaining gemstones in his pack, all various shades of purple, to line either side of the translucent ones, carefully placing each, knowing that the amplification process would depend on him getting it just right. Double checking his work, putting more pressure on himself than anyone else could, the brilliant, slightly eclectic librarian drove himself on by thinking of his friend deep within Ahrensburg, hoping that he remained safe and sound and that negotiations were going well.
Cotton wool clouds dropped from up above, obscuring their long range vision, putting For’son and his group of diplomats more on edge than they had been at any other point, the occasional glimpse of their escorts, or more like captors, as that’s how it felt, sending a shiver down all of their tails and spines.
Abruptly those around and above dropped, losing altitude, forcing the diplomatic group downwards, letting the tug of gravity take them.
For a moment it was a worry until, as the clouds fizzled out, they all clapped eyes on their destination, the Ahrensburg capital, Axalangst. Set mainly against, but with some buildings up above the gigantic bluff that must have been nearly half a mile high and about five miles long, the landscape looked both alien and futuristic, with stunning water and lava falls running side by side down the solid granite cliff that separated what appeared to be an upper and lower part of the city. Three huge, clear blue rivers flanked by mighty, unfamiliar trees with warped and twisted branches meandered majestically through it all, dividing up different coloured farmland on the outer edge, the individual crops not visible at this range, but clearly nothing they were familiar with. Random flat buildings, some housing gigantic greenhouses made from extravagant panes of glass, reflected what little sunlight there was back in their direction, temporarily blinding them, that is until one of the huge fluffy clouds drifted lazily between it and the shiny surface. From where they were some twenty or so miles out, carefully arranged dwellings made from rock, slate and gigantic natura
l boulders, some easily three storeys high, others much lower, stretched on for miles, all radiating out from the cliff face that appeared to be not really the centre, but the height of all the activity. A huge number of dragons were flying between the upper and lower parts of the city... enormous looking metal lifts also carting an array of different goods, powered by what appeared to be geothermal energy, something those at home were only just coming to grips with. Just the sight of that made their leader think of his friend... Orac, the librarian, wondering how on earth he was getting on with his new found crystals, and whether or not he’d yet had any sort of breakthrough. It seemed unlikely given the short amount of time he’d had to study them, but For’son knew that if any dragon alive could get them to work, it would by his pal, the repository guardian, because although he didn’t like to say it, the shy, retiring and eccentric dragon was one of the most intelligent beings he’d ever had the pleasure of meeting.
Plunging even lower now, resembling a plane on its final approach to the runway, high curved towers made from the same grey, granite stone as the cliff side popped up in the extended part of the enclave on the flattened ground adjacent to the sea, their curved architecture a wonder, each easily able to contain at least a dozen dragon bodies comfortably, a lookout visible at the height of their spire, appearing magnificent against the backdrop of so much water, not just the rolling waves, but the three huge rivers that appeared to flow naturally through the land.
Atop the cliff, facing out to sea, a translucent, supernatural shield ran off in the distance for as far as was visible, deflecting away the harsh weather from the upper part of the city that shone green and white, the former a thick weed-free grass in every gap where there weren’t dwellings or pathways, cut to perfection, no longer than an inch tall, the latter making up the buildings, most supported by humungous pillars of shining white stone, arched rooftops, the odd sunken pool or two of crystal clear, light blue water thrown in for good measure. One gigantic lake of lava stood in the middle of it all, surrounded by the pale stone trails, none of which appeared straight, all curving around at wonderful different angles. If gods had existed, this is where they would have chosen to live and it wouldn’t have been a surprise to anybody.
Momentarily, it took the delegation’s breath away, that is until their leader, the bright blue hero of the piece, pointed out exactly what was going on.
“Look at the rising, corkscrewed spires you admire so much... tell me what you see?” asked For’son softly, wanting them to use their brains and the information that had already been passed onto them about what they were flying into.
First to answer was the youngster, Fanti, glad to have something to take her mind off the terrible situation they all found themselves in, utterly astounded as she soared towards the fantasy setting in front of them.
“Graceful buildings, modern architecture and an abundance of food and water... it looks so calm and peaceful, and a brilliant place to live... clearly an advanced civilisation.”
Across the link he could feel some of the others agreeing with not only her words but her appreciation as well. But not Thomas, no... he was far more streetwise and prepared than that.
“Look closer,” urged For’son as they descended even further, curtailing some of the previous speed that they’d built up.
“Oh my...” declared Francis throughout their minds, having zoomed in on some of the more horrifying details.
One by one, the rest of them followed in Francis’ footsteps, almost sick to their stomachs at their costly error. What they had mistaken for an out of the way paradise was of course nothing of the sort. The stunningly curved buildings that dotted the landscape within the confines of the city, both at sea level and atop the perfectly precise architecture of the cliff, were nothing more than guard towers, housing dragon lookouts who’d been delegated to watch over the downtrodden denizens, making sure that no laws were infringed, enforcing everything with the deadliest of magic. The more they took in, the more brutal it became with everything they’d been told beforehand all materialising before their very eyes.
Bedraggled dragons up to their knees in water worked until they dropped in the brightly coloured fields scattered precariously throughout the city, overseen by dark, hulking great monsters that enforced their cooperation by means of monstrous shadowy whips that appeared, at least from their point of view, to contain lightning itself. Occasionally one of these grisly lookouts could be seen punishing those under his watchful eye, lighting up the water all around his victim, the resulting harsh, shrill screams echoing out across the sharp, cool air. Now that they knew what to look for, dragon bodies could be seen bobbing about, face down in the knee deep water, no doubt the sick motivation to keep the other slaves in line, should they even think about escape or not giving their all.
Up in the sky, the diplomats’ stomachs turned, growling and rumbling uncontrollably, their owners fighting with all they had not to regurgitate the contents of their last precious meal.
Much closer, it was now possible to see what was happening in the streets, the stand out of which was the dozen or so groups of marching emaciated dragons, all chained together via particularly dastardly metal collars that appeared to be designed to dig in and pierce the scales around their necks, thick, viscous, green blood dribbling down their torsos from the raw and open wounds. Understandably they all looked defeated and downtrodden.
The high rise and low slung buildings became more apparent now, their run down states, disrepair and overcrowding obvious. This wasn’t part of any paradise, more like slums of the worst kind.
And as they zipped over the outskirts, only then could they make out the festering dragon corpses swinging from the leafless tree branches all covered in rotten maggots, hung no doubt as a warning to others.
This city that looked absolutely miraculous from far away probably resembled most beings’ idea of absolute purgatory. Slaves brutally beaten, killed on a whim should any form of non-adherence to the rules rear its ugly head, all living in squalor with nothing to look forward to other than pain, misery and an untimely end. As the diplomats, surrounded by their so-called guides, flew low over the conurbation, their sensitive olfactory senses were bombarded by the raw sewage flowing down some of the streets, the rotten food and fetid corpses that lay scattered haphazardly about, something that looked as though it were an everyday occurrence. To a dragon they all hoped never to encounter such evil ever again and taking everything in with their eidetic memories, vowed to redouble their efforts to bring this land back into the light and righteousness of the realm they lived in, and free these sad, enslaved beings once and for all. No one more so than For’son, who over the years had seen more than his fair share of poverty and desperation, but nothing on this scale, and that was saying quite something.
Almost as if having given them a guided tour, or quite possibly a warning as to exactly what their leader was capable of, the dark envoys, having enclosed their charges from every different angle, abruptly pulled up, taking For’son’s group with them, climbing vertically up the cliff, so close now that splashes of bright orange, searing hot magma from the lava fall peppered their scales, the sizzling warmth a welcome distraction from everything they’d just witnessed. Whistling past the edge of the cliff face, the two groups tracked up a little further, levelled off and pulled a slow, lazy loop, before coming into land on a huge, lush piece of lawn adjacent to the lake of molten lava, practically in the middle of everything. Touching down with the deftness of a feather, well... the diplomats anyway, their guides not actually touching down at all, only hovering a few feet above it before turning sharply and hightailing it back off over the cliff edge, all of them looked to For’son to see exactly what they should do next. With no other beings about and only the lava lake for company, the circumstances they all found themselves in was most... odd, and nothing like any diplomatic protocol he’d ever heard of. Still, they’d been guided to this exact spot for a reason, and once again, it could be another o
f their tests, just like his one on one battle only a short while ago, something from which he’d only just recovered. And so through the telepathic link that they all shared, he sent the shortest message he could, hoping to reassure all of them, wondering who, if anyone, could reassure him, because the longer this went on, the more uneasy he felt about the whole situation.
“Be patient,” he urged. “We wait for as long as it takes. If your mind wanders, try some meditation.”
Meditation seemed to do the trick for a few at least, including Thomas, Harold, Musim, Ecoack and Menning, lessening their worry, focusing their minds, proving a great distraction, and given what they were experiencing, was just what they needed. For the others, Francis, Radivan, S’pest, Simone and Fanti, For’son included, their environment was a challenge to say the least. Nerve wracking didn’t do it justice, not knowing what they were supposed to do next, if anything at all. A few of them had wanted to go off and explore their surroundings, wondering telepathically whether that’s what they were supposed to do anyway, but their brave blue leader had curtailed that straight away, stating that they’d been brought here for a reason, and that wandering around a city where they didn’t belong could get them in a whole host of trouble, something they wanted to avoid at all costs. So it was that they waited, and waited, and waited some more.
“Are you finished, librarian?” one of the king’s protectors asked, over the harsh wind whipping across the entrance to the cave that he found himself guarding from absolutely nothing at all.
He was, in fact he’d been finished for some time now, almost an hour, and had only been pretending to finalise a few things, because there was something that he wanted... no, needed to do, and he’d been trying to figure out the best way to go about getting it. Having come up with absolutely nothing, and now realising the impatience of those that had accompanied him, Orac was left with little choice but to fall back on the truth... well, mostly, in his efforts to get his own way.