"On top of all of that," piped up Flash, "they'll also say that to trust the word of a dragon who's stuck in human form for the rest of his life, is the wrong thing to do."
The king nodded in agreement.
"Sadly, Flash is right. Most of them would feel him to be tainted at the very least. I know... huh... I know it's wrong, but that's how most of them think," added the king, waving away the protests of Tank and Peter. "I'm sorry Peter, I truly am. I would do anything to get your grandfather back, even give my own life if I could be certain it would work, but at the moment, there are too many other things to take into consideration. This may affect the dragon world in some way, so we have to find out what's going on with the nagas, why they're fighting against us and how we can stop it. Then, and only then, can we consider rescuing your grandfather, and believe me when I say we WILL rescue him, I give you my word as king of this realm.
Peter was lost for words. It was all so much to take in. Tank wrapped one of his huge arms around him and gave him a badly needed hug.
"It'll be alright. The king will get him back, you'll see," stated Tank cheerily, trying his best to look on the bright side.
Peter, however, wasn't convinced and before he had a chance to voice his reservations, the king very politely told them it was time to leave as he wanted to thoroughly debrief Flash and report his findings to the council, his thinking being that the sooner they got the ball rolling, the sooner they'd get Peter's grandfather back. Before they left, he thanked them for everything they'd done, swore them once again to secrecy, and then told Peter that his trunk and its contents would be delivered before the week was out and that he would be in touch. Flash shook their hands and gave each one of them a hug, something that seemed utterly appropriate, and was totally new to him. After Madeline had appeared and escorted them back to the main entrance of the council building, the four of them trudged through the doors and down the steps, stopping to reflect on the day's events at the nearest of the two lava pools.
Leaning over the lava, watching the bubbles plop, gurgle and fizz, Peter could see his friends' faces reflected in the fiery, molten liquid of the pool.
'They all have pained expressions,' he thought as his mind tried to make sense of the day's events. So far he'd met and made friends with Flash, who had nearly died but had been saved by Gee Tee, received the amazing contents of his grandfather's trunk, been told his parents had collaborated with the Nazis, learned of a massive threat to not just the dragon world, but the planet as a whole from the mysterious nagas, found out that his grandfather was still alive, and last but not least, learnt that the king wielded more prestige than power and was really quite toothless in a political sense.
'Whatever happens at work tomorrow will seem quite dull by comparison,' he mused, trying terribly hard to look on the bright side of things.
Yoyo interrupted Peter's train of thought.
"I'm sorry friends, but I really have to go. It's going to take me quite some time to get back to Perth and think up an explanation as to why I've been away. It's been one hell of a day for me, and it's been great to meet all of you, and Flash, and see the king again. Perhaps you could all come and visit me if you get the chance? You would all be very welcome. It would be great to meet up, and if you haven't visited Australia, you don't know what you're missing. I would be more than happy to be your tour guide."
Peter, Tank and Gee Tee all bade farewell to the healer, wishing him well and promising to keep in touch and even try and arrange a visit, assuring him that they would keep an eye on Flash.
Soon after Yoyo left, the three of them split up, with Tank escorting Gee Tee back to the Mantra Emporium, and Peter heading back home, but not before the old shopkeeper had assured Peter that the king would rescue his grandfather and that he, as the world's foremost mantra expert, would lend his valuable experience and expertise to the cause, putting the outcome beyond any doubt. If nothing else, this put a smile on the young hockey playing dragon's face for the first time in a little while, something he supposed was the intention of the crafty old shopkeeper. As he strolled slowly towards the nearest monorail station, he had no idea at all of what to make of the most bizarre Sunday of his entire life.
12
Sub-Zero Hero
Lying against the freezing wall of ice, the human shaped dragon scientist cried constantly, shivering and muttering as he did so. Nearly all his rounded bones were visible through his skin, taut from lack of nourishment. Resembling a waif from a very hot third world country, in dragon terms he was... very ordinary. A model dragon citizen, he had a mate waiting for him, or at least he hoped he still did, back in Manchester, England. This chained, dirty, filthy, ragged, emaciated and frightened dragon, was one of the brightest minds on the whole planet. What he wasn't, however, was a hero. Not brave, steely or tough, he had a low tolerance for pain and wanted nothing more than to live a nice, straightforward, peaceful life. Most certainly he was the wrong dragon in the wrong place at the wrong time, a time that was very nearly at an end.
Night and day blended into one in the icy prison, the lack of daylight making it impossible to know the time, the only constant, the gurgling of the stream, which slowly chipped away at the captives' sanity.
Curled up in front of the icy wall, his weight supported by his giant, shiny blue tail that sparkled beautifully, the naga king, as always, had one eye open, resting like this ever since his incarceration, always on the lookout for an opportunity, but in all the time he'd been trapped, the right one had never presented itself... well, not yet anyway.
Lying asleep, flat on the ground, the ancient dragon spluttered and coughed, much as he had for most of his confinement. The only time he woke was when the evil human appeared with food, kicking and beating him awake, only stopping when his thirst for violence had been sated.
Crouching in the flickering light, stretching some of his leg and shoulder muscles, the last prisoner, the dragon shaped as a human with long scraggy hair and a blue birthmark splattered across his chest, was another waiting for an opportunity to escape and hoping, despite what the evil human had claimed, that the dragon he and the naga king had aided, had indeed made it back to the underground domain.
Hours after the dragon had escaped, the spiteful human and a naga he'd never seen before appeared from out of nowhere and had inflicted one of the heaviest beatings yet on everyone except the naga king. Afterwards the human jailer had spent a long time explaining how the dragon had been killed in his attempt to gain freedom. For what seemed like an eternity they'd both gone on about it, almost trying a bit too hard. What Fredric Bluewillow, Peter's grandfather, thought, was that he had indeed escaped, because if he had been killed, his broken body would almost certainly have been brought back for all to see. A tiny twinkle of hope lit up the back of his mind. All he had to do was survive, survive like he'd been doing for decades... oh, and not go insane.
Abruptly the freezing monotony was interrupted by the sound of voices carrying over the cold, frosty air from somewhere close by. This was something completely new. In all the time the prisoners had been there, they'd only ever seen the evil human that fed them, or the odd naga or two. On occasions, it had seemed as though there had been another presence flirting in the background somewhere just out of sight, but never had they actually heard anyone talking. And more intriguingly, the voices seemed to be heading in their direction.