As he nodded his agreement, Tank looked as though he might explode.
"Well, that's settled then," announced Janice, leaping to her feet. "Half seven at mine... just bring yourself." And with that, she scooted off towards the bar, leaving the two friends all alone. To say there was an awkward silence was something of an understatement.
Peter gazed at the table, the floor, his shoes... out of the window. In the end he gave in.
"I know, I know. Please don't say it."
As it turned out, Tank didn't have to say anything... his look alone said it all.
Another awkward silence ensued, before the strapping rugby playing dragon stood, swallowed the remainder of his drink and put a hand on his friend's shoulder.
"Just think about what you're doing, Pete. Remember what happened to Richie. No good can come of all this. I think you know that."
With that, Tank bade his friend farewell and left the building. Peter threw back the last of his drink, got up and returned both empty glasses back to the bar. Janice popped up from behind it, gave him one last kiss and said she would see him tomorrow. With Tank's words ringing in his ears and the taste of Janice's kiss still on his lips, he made his way across the dark, deserted car park. Blissfully unaware of the drive home, it was only once he'd showered and was tucked up in bed that he realised exactly how he felt. Despite his friend's warnings, he was ecstatic and felt as though he were flying with the scorching sun beating down on his natural prehistoric frame, like he'd just scored the winning goal in an important hockey match, like the Warriors had just won the Global Cup. Exhausted from training, his eyes fluttered briefly, before sleep overwhelmed him.
21
Great Minds Think... Aloud!
Spitting rivers of molten lava meandered down the outside of the white, gold-flecked, marble pillars. Occasionally the lava would crackle and hiss, all the while throwing out tiny droplets onto passersby, or the intricately designed floor. Depicting one of the most significant moments not just in dragon history, but in the history of the world, the beautifully crafted solid rock floor was the bedrock of the most important council chamber on earth. Dragons depicted in all shades of green, blue, red and purple stood side by side with the Manticores, shimmering in their differing shades of white, complementing the Basilisks' dark, glistening scales, looking almost neutral about everything that was going on. Was that how things had really been, or had the dragon who'd crafted and designed the amazing floor applied some sort of artistic licence? Behind the Basilisks, the Heretics of Antar could just be seen. 'Seething' was the only word to describe their expressions, which could just be made out beneath the colourful hoods that adorned their heads. However, all that was just background. What really caught the eye in the scene, especially from somewhere up above in the guarded cavern that formed the room, were the figures at the centre, looking majestic, dignified, regal and... just plain important! The Hydra Queen herself shone from the water dripping off her, holding a document in her hand. Although in the carving on the floor the document was blank, it was taken for granted that it was the prophecy agreement that she was holding. Beside her, looking very much like a warrior, muscles gleaming, barely clothed, cloak billowing behind him, staff in hand, Artorius the Seer stood, overseeing the single most important gathering of races the world had ever seen. Rumour had it that the carving had taken nearly thirty years to complete, and that blood from the different races featured had been used for the dye that coloured the carving, but it had been done so far in the past, nobody actually knew for certain. It was some floor, that was for sure!
Even without the carving, the room would still have been one of the grandest on the planet. Large, silver, double doors guarded the entrance, delicately designed with images of a nursery ring long in the past, a clear reference to just how much dragons value and respect their young, and how they were as sacred then as they are now.
Hanging across one continuous wall a mosaic, made from dragon scales of all things, depicted a scene familiar to all the council members. A human, neither male nor female, was standing, weapon... maybe a sword or a dagger... in hand, fighting off an unseen enemy, protecting and saving lots and lots of dragons. Mesmerising in detail, it was easy to get sucked in and stare at the work of art for many minutes at a time. Significantly, some of the black scales that had been used to create the effect of the unseen enemy were missing; only a handful, and you'd have to look very closely to notice, which it seemed nobody had.
Rip-roaring fires blazed away in the midst of a gigantic, grey, granite table in the shape of a trident. The table must have been ten feet high, with comfy oversized dragon chairs littered along each side of the fork of the trident. At the very end of the shaft, a raised throne made of gold and dotted with every kind of precious gem you could imagine, overlooked everything. Laid out for the dragon councillors who were expected at any minute, the table was scattered with tall vases, filled to the brim with sticks of every conceivable flavour of charcoal, the size of a man's arm. Over the sizzling fires, succulent meat slowly turned on ancient spits, brightly burning chunks of charcoal embedded in each animal. So much care had been taken with their preparation that they could almost be described as works of art, rather than the pre-meeting feast. Gleaming silver plates the size of a car's bonnet were piled high with freshly baked bread infused with different coloured charcoal, chocolate and charcoal pancakes, and of course the king's favourite... doughnuts with a jam and charcoal centre. What little room remained on the actual table itself was taken up by tall, silver flagons of what could only be described as a kind of carbonated metholated spirits... a dragon's drink fit for a king.
Grand and important as any currently in existence, two important features of the room still need to be mentioned. A giant gold coloured abacus, the length and size of a double decker bus, sat along the far wall, its rails made from pure silver, currently reflecting the light from the crackling fires around the cavernous room to great effect. Attached to the rails were balls the size of footballs, crimson in colour, twenty-five in all, one for each of the councillors and the king. Once the council was in session, each ball could be linked to a particular councillor's mind anonymously so that nobody knew who voted which way on an individual motion. Balls were allocated randomly each time telepathically, because the core of each was made from pure laminium. This process had been used for centuries because it was seen to be the fairest, and made sure everything was above board, so to speak. Stunning in its complexity, the whole abacus looked magnificent against the backdrop of the rest of the room.
Finally, one last feature needs a mention, if indeed it could even be called a feature. A bizarre looking darkened corner of the room, as far away from the table and entrance as possible, had been given over to something far more... chilly. 'Hot' was the best way to describe the room in a single word (as that's how dragons like it... the hotter the better), and with lava spitting from pillars all around and the heat from the roaring fires, the large room was scorching... apart from this one corner. Tucked away in this section of the wall, deadly icicles draped down from rustic wooden shelves a foot deep and fifty feet high. Individual items could just be made out through the shimmering blue glow that ensconced it all. If you were to look carefully, there were daggers, bows and sets of dragon armour, all carefully laid out. Even an alea that was an exact match to the one Peter and Richie currently both wore was hidden away in there somewhere. Tucked back against a darkened corner, about half way up the shelf, almost totally out of sight, sat a black silk bag, containing a dozen tiny, matte black scales... Troydenn's scales from when George incapacitated him during their fight long ago in the city of Salisbridge. A much more valuable prize it would be hard to find.