A textbook landing brought about the end to their near three thousand mile journey. The entire group settled atop a snow covered ridge enclosed on two sides, offering a degree of protection, very close to the summit. Without fuss, the youngsters prepared to unleash the heat detecting mantra they'd spent so long working on. It was strange just to see the odd sliver of movement, Flash thought, his mind not being able to conceive how on earth the suits they all wore functioned. If he hadn't been looking for it, almost certainly it would have been impossible to detect. For sure, not a human being alive would have been capable of seeing through the almost faultless suits. But he knew the enemies they now faced would prove more inventive and more powerful than any his race had faced in centuries, if not ever. Determined not to be lax, complacent or let his guard down in any way, shape or form, he knew in that lay defeat, something he was too acutely aware of thanks to his rather unsuccessful last visit to this freezing hell. So, for now, he was content to stand and watch, coiled, full of energy and focus, ready to spring into action when the need arose, constantly aware of the seconds ticking away.
52
Haunted
Cold gnawed at the very heart of him. The decades he, Fredric Bluewillow, had been confined here were starting to take their toll. Brief moments of sleep against the freezing, icy walls of the cavern had deserted him recently, replaced by waking dreams... hallucinations if you like. Memories from his past barged in on his conscious mind, assaulting him, forcing him to live those moments over and over again. Of course, only the painful memories returned and there were plenty of those, particularly given the things he'd done. Back then it had all seemed so clear cut, so refined. But as it all came flooding back with crystal clarity, thanks to his eidetic dragon memory, his views became conflicted, his mind lost in turmoil.
'Oh no,' he managed to think in a daze. 'Not anything to do with World War 2 please, and especially not this one... anything but this one!'
He'd had his suspicions for some time now. All the late nights... early mornings even. But it was more to do with her change of character. And that had changed dramatically. Once kind, loving, full of empathy, just about the perfect... he'd almost said 'human being', but of course he meant dragon... she'd won awards for her caring and considerate nature during her time in the nursery ring. Out of everything, those had made him the most proud, the proudest father on the planet. But that all seemed like a long time ago. Longing for that time to return, the professional in him combined with his life experience told him it was gone forever. He hoped not, hoping against the odds that he could get it back. Tonight would be the first step to doing just that.
His spy craft was awesome, as you'd expect from the king's right hand man (or dragon, so to speak) and the founder of the Crimson Guards. So far he'd followed her across to Spain on the monorail, and was currently climbing up a rather well hidden ladder that led into the sewer system beneath Barcelona. Ahead of him by only a few minutes, it didn't matter because he'd used a mantra that was his stock in trade. Once cast, the mantra created a fine layer of magical dust, invisible to all but the caster, and once in contact with another being it formed a shimmering trail for the caster to follow, while remaining invisible to everyone else. Just as she'd been going out of the door, he'd made a point of standing in her way. Although she appeared sulky, defiant and determined, he hadn't made a big thing about it, quite the opposite in fact, but just as she'd stormed past him, he'd ruffled her hair, something he'd done all the time when she was younger, something she hated now, and she'd told him so in no uncertain terms. But with the magical dust, it had done the trick and enabled him to follow her at a distance, with a view to finding out exactly what was going on.
A tiny shaft of natural light filtered down through the rusty looking manhole above him. Searching far and wide with his dragon abilities, it soon became apparent that no one was about. Hastily he pushed open the cover, crawled out and was up on his feet instantly, all without a sound. Sticking to the shadows, he followed the glistening trail of dust from his daughter's hair, illuminating the way just for him, like Christmas lights on a housing estate. Following the trail, he avoided contact when he could, but the further he went, the more people appeared around him. When the shadows were of no use, he pretended to be drunk, weaving and staggering just enough for most to want to leave him alone. Still he carried on, that is until he turned a corner and stood across from a small piazza, around which a number of restaurants, bars and bistros were dotted. From the look of things, the enigmatic trail led into the most crowded bar on the other side of the street.
'This,' he thought, 'is where things might just get a little interesting.' Closing his eyes, he reached deep within his human guise, tucking all his dragon-ness into a small black box, sealed it up and slid it into the equivalent of a cupboard under the stairs within his mind. Appearing fully human and much, much older than he'd normally look, thanks to another stock in trade mantra, he strolled confidently across the piazza and walked straight into the crowded bar. Immediately he became alert (more so than he was already, and that was saying something) because through the haze of the smoke, the smell of sweaty humans and spilt alcohol, and above the noise of the very out of tune singer, nearly all the voices were speaking in... German! This he hadn't expected. For all intents and purposes, this was a very Spanish area, populated entirely by locals. The Germans/Nazis, call them what you will, shouldn't have been anywhere near here. But it looked as though they were, and rather too many of them for his liking. Squeezing sideways past the suited and booted clientele, most of the men wearing ties, nearly all having their hair slicked back with grease, he reached the sticky wooden surface of the bar and tried hard not to touch it. Offering him an enticing smile, the busty brunette behind the bar headed his way. Returning the gesture, he was just about to open his mouth and order a drink in German, when a slender but powerful arm appeared almost out of nowhere, its fist connecting fully with his jaw. Stumbling back, he was surprised at how such a thing could happen and catch him off guard. Abruptly, the singer stopped. The music too, with the patrons having turned totally silent. Forming a circle around him, the group closest had all taken three steps back. Shaking off the stinging pain in his face, he spread his feet, bent his knees into the perfect fighting stance, ready to defend himself against whatever attack might come. He considered himself ready for anything, to take on the whole bar if need be. But he wasn't ready for... THIS! As the German customers slinked back, all the while smiling and nodding their approval as if knowing what was to come, a petite figure, dressed in her usual brown outfit, revealed itself, a savage, wolf-like grin burrowed into her face.