The best part of one hundred and fifty thousand dragons rose from their seats in unison, all cheering and roaring at once, Peter, Tank and Richie among them. Niftily, Richie pulled a small paper packet from the back pocket of her jeans, and in one smooth, fluid motion, ripped open the top and poured a handful of the sparkling dust into the palm of her hand. Pulling in a deep breath, she blew the dust out into the stadium. Instantly, it began to coalesce into recognisable shapes. After only a few seconds, six foot high letters formed and began to make words. This wasn't only happening in front of her... it was happening all round the arena. It could only be one name... STEEL! Drifting round the stadium, light from the lava below twinkled off the dust that formed the magical letters.
With the sound and the celebrations having died down, the match could really only go one way after Steel's amazing goal... downhill. Oh don't get me wrong, it was as fine a league match as there'd been all season, but after the stunning start to the game, it could only ever creep back towards mediocrity. Soon after Steel's goal the Buccaneers equalised, before going on to take the lead. After that, things became rather scrappy, with numerous warnings to both sides from the referee. Unfortunately for the three friends, the Buccaneers won 2-1, somewhat taking the edge off the main talking point of the evening... that goal!
As the echo of the giant gong reverberated around the arena to signal the end of the match, Peter, Tank and Richie started to make their way towards the exit. Huge queues meant it took an absolute age to reach the main plaza, where the food stalls were still doing an alarming trade despite the late hour. Throughout their queuing, all the three friends could hear, were dragons raving about Steel's goal. As the friends joined a line to get a charcoal kebab (Peter, surprise, surprise was starving) only one thing was on their minds.
"If I hadn't seen it for myself, then I would probably never have believed it," put in Tank.
"That's part of the problem the papers will have in the morning," added Peter. "However well they describe what happened, not everyone will believe it. I mean we were that close and I still find it hard to take in exactly what happened."
Nodding in unison, they shuffled steadily forward in the queue.
"I still don't understand how he did it," stated Tank, more than a little bemused.
"Me neither," agreed Peter.
Richie paused, her delicate little face screwed up in concentration.
"I," she said, "have a theory about that."
Peter and Tank stared at her in disbelief. Finally Tank asked,
"And?"
"Well," said Richie, moving slightly further forward. "I think what Steel did was... suggest to the ball what it should do."
"Suggest... to the... ball?" mocked Peter.
Tank joined in.
"Oh ball, oh ball... I have a suggestion for you," he called out in a stupid voice.
"Very clever," responded Richie dryly. "I think he planted the suggestion a little more forcibly that that. And yes it's not as ridiculous as you two half-wits seem to think. You wait and see what it says in tomorrow's papers. They normally get to the bottom of stuff like this. Mark my words. If it's not that, then I bet you I'm not a million miles away from what really did happen."
Recognising that they'd been suitably chastised, Peter and Tank knew well enough not to mock Richie any more, not about the same thing anyway. Tank had reached the head of the queue now and was ordering something called a Super Sumptuous Double Deluxe Charcoal Kebab. Peter slavered with anticipation behind him, just at the mere name, and waited patiently for it to appear. When it did, it lived up to its name... and more. The pitta bread that it came in was the size of a small tent, with Tank barely able to hold it in both his giant hands. Inside, delicious roasted meat tangled with vegetables of all shapes and sizes. Peppers, cucumbers, tomatoes, lettuce, carrot, onion, cabbage, they were all there, interspersed with squash ball sized chunks of steaming hot charcoal. It looked and smelled beyond fantastic, and Peter ordered one before the server even had a chance to open his mouth to ask what he wanted. Richie wasn't quite so taken with the monstrosity that was the kebab and opted instead for pitta bread stuffed with just salad, much to her friends' surprise. Making their way to a vacant table, the three friends sat down, remaining quiet, choosing to eat rather than talk, as the crowds around them slowly dwindled. Richie of course finished first, followed by Tank, as a determined Peter steadfastly refused to let the kebab get the better of him. As Peter wrestled with the last giant chunk of charcoal, a shadow fell sharply across the table. Three of the biggest, meanest looking dragons Peter had ever seen stood side by side, towering over Richie. Tank moved first, his chair scraping across the stone of the courtyard as he leapt to his feet. Richie rose calmly, as did Peter, leaving the remainder of his food strewn across the table. Of course there was no real contest. Tank, even as big and powerful as he was in his dragon form, would still only have been about two thirds the size of the smallest dragon facing them. Suddenly, two of the large dragons parted, making way for someone. The troubled, scared and determined looks of the three friends disappeared as a dragon councillor walked serenely into the gap provided.
"Stand down," ordered the councillor.
All three dragons withdrew just slightly, turning their backs, affording the councillor a degree of privacy.
Peter marvelled at the councillor's robes which seemed to shimmer and change colour at will; the complex trident design hadn't changed much in hundreds of years and commanded the same respect now as it had back then.
Tank was more interested in the councillor himself. In all his life, he'd never seen a dragon that was so... slim. Oh he wasn't short, quite the opposite in fact, but he was unbelievably slender and narrow. It didn't help that his stubby little wings were folded behind his back. It gave him the look of a wounded bird rather than a dragon with an air of authority. Also, Tank noted he had very beady little eyes, most strange for a dragon.
Richie had no interest whatsoever in the councillor and now that any potential threat had disappeared, she chose to sit back down in her silver coloured chair.
Casting his beady eyes over all three of them, the councillor asked,
"Are you Richie Rump?"
Surprised, she turned to face him and nodded.
"I am councillor Shady Swampbottom and I need to speak to you, in private please."
A million possibilities ran through her head all at the same time, causing her to smile.
"Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of my friends," she replied nonchalantly.
Forcing his face to remain neutral, the councillor continued,
"It really would be best if we spoke in private, young dragon," he declared, more than a little patronisingly.
That in itself was enough for Richie to take offence. It seemed that the councillor had no choice but to accede to her demand that her companions stay.