'Oh no. What have I done?!' he thought, desperately reassessing the situation. But it was too late for that.
Stepping forward, much to the delight of the crowd, she hit him once again, hard across the face.
"YOU BASTARD!" she screamed.
"I... I... I... I..." he managed to stutter.
"You spied on me, followed me here. Well... THAT'S IT! No more. We're done!" she spat.
"B... B... But y... your mother. W... w... what about your mother?"
"Leave her out of this, you stupid old man. We're done... for good. Now... get the hell out of here!" she ordered, before the throng of patrons folded in all around her, and then him.
Righteous fury ignited inside him. She was his flesh and blood... his daughter! He wasn't about to leave her here... with these despicable beings.
'This is it!' he thought. 'No more.' Reaching into that mental cupboard under the stairs in his mind, he opened the box. His power exploded out of it deep inside him. It was then that he took in his surroundings. Guns were out... everywhere! Lugers, machine guns... the lot!
Swallowing nervously, something of a new experience for him, as he could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times in his long life that he'd been outgunned... on one finger actually, he ran through all the possible outcomes.
Weighing up the options, he'd already decided he could take them... well, maybe. Figuring it would be a close run thing, to him... it didn't matter. He wanted to do it so badly, just wanted her back in his arms more than anything else in the world right now. However, he knew how to control his emotions, knew that at times you needed to walk away, live to fight another day, when the odds were that much better. So his heart told him to fight for her, but his head told him to retreat. It was a draw, at least up until now. But somewhere in the multitude of beings that surrounded him, he felt a presence, something unusual, something odd, something dangerous... something definitely not human. Suddenly it wasn't just one. There was another, and another, and another. Things had just gone from bad to worse. He didn't know what it meant, his daughter being tied up with all this, all he knew was that he had to get out of there... now! Channelling all his dragon power, he spun as fast as he could, lashing out at those nearest. Immediately, they flew back into the crowd causing a domino effect, the first four or so rows all falling to the floor. Guns started firing in his direction. However, he was already on the move. Each arm whirled with uppercuts, smashing his way towards the front of the bar, the satisfying crunch of broken jaws music to his ears. Determined to stop him from leaving, the crowd flocked to the narrow entrance. But that was never his destination. Leaping up onto a three legged, circular, wooden table, he lashed out with his foot, catching one of them full in the face with his boot, blood splattering the nearest half a dozen or so patrons. And then he launched himself. It wasn't pretty or graceful, but it was effective. Tucking into as much of a ball as he could, he hit the massive plate glass window shoulder first, the impact rippling through his body. But he didn't have time to worry about that, not with the tiny pin pricks from the flying shards of glass stabbing him all over. And then he hit the cobbles outside... HARD, taking the full force of the blow on his lower back. Sure he would pass out, the pain was out of this world. But he didn't, and knew that he had to act now. In a few seconds it would be too late, he'd be dead and his daughter lost forever. This thought alone spurred him on as he staggered to his feet, taking one last look over his shoulder at the baying crowd in the bar, frantically trying to get through the narrow entrance to give chase. But by then, he was on his way and assisted by more than a dab of dragon power. He sought refuge once again in the shadows, using a very different way to get back to the dragon domain, all the time hoping that she'd return to him. She never did! He never saw her again. Not an hour went by that he didn't ask himself where she was, what she was doing, and who she was with. His Crimson Guard had orders to look out for her and to report to him at the very first sign, but to no avail. It broke his heart.
Tears raced from his eyes as despair, sorrow and the familiar underlying feeling of failure ripped through him. Freezing before they'd got halfway down his cheek, building steadily into some kind of stalactite formation, stubbornly he refused to wipe or chip them away. The pain from that particular memory hurt him the most. Through glazed eyes he looked across at the naga king, envious of him curled there, emotionless and stoic. Briefly he wondered if he too suffered from thoughts of all the things he'd done. But that was soon forgotten as the next memories faded in and out, tearing into parts of Fredric the cold just couldn't touch.
53
Dragon's Hide
If in fact there had ever been one, the plan was to stay in the nursery ring for a few more hours, get some rest, try and recruit a few more dragons and then move on, splitting into two groups to carry out the separate missions agreed upon. The tors had other ideas though. They'd provided food and in the valued safety of the nursery ring, a climate for much needed rest. Gee Tee was utterly exhausted from the day's events and he wasn't the only one. Having fought valiantly, the humans, to one degree or another, were still intoxicated from the alcohol consumed on their night out. It was no state to go charging blindly into an all out battle for the planet's survival and so, reluctantly, Richie had agreed when the tors had insisted they stay, eat, drink and recover as best they could, at least until morning. That was some time ago now, with the food having been mostly packed away, a few remaining scraps scavenged for the trip ahead stowed here and there by dragons and humans alike. Young dragons, the tors' charges, roamed around the nursery ring, hardly daring to believe that real humans sat and slept amongst them. Too excited to sleep, they were starting to become a real distraction, and Richie wasn't the only one to think so.
Snoring away soundly in the far corner of the courtyard they all found themselves in, the master mantra maker grunted and wheezed occasionally, reminding everybody of his presence. The humans, well most of them anyway, had curled up against the back wall, asleep for the most part, Hook supporting two of the girls' heads on his hulking great thighs, saving them from bedding down on the uncomfortable flagstones. Hook himself sat upright against the wall, eyes shut, not entirely asleep. Taibul leant next to Sam, eyes closed, breathing shallowly. Midway between the sleeping old shopkeeper and the sportsmen and women from the surface, sat Janice, cross legged, awake and entirely lost in thought, all the time twisting and turning the legendary sword Fu-ts'ang in her lap, its frosty glow giving the skin tone of her face an odd, blue radiance.
Looking over, Richie knew full well what was on the young human girl's mind: Peter! It had to be. Nothing else could explain that faraway look. Well, perhaps the discovery of dragons, and the battle to end all battles, but she knew that look too well. It was one she herself was trying desperately to mask. Her worry for Tim would have to wait. She had given herself over to more important matters.