"You've got a bit of..." he chuckled.
Tim frowned, not sure what was going on. Running his hands over his face, all the while continuing to glide, he came across two large rocky protrusions embedded in his prehistoric forehead. Gingerly pulling them out, he dismissed each, tossing them into the abyss.
"What's so funny?"
"That's gonna be your new name!"
"What?"
"Cliff Face," coughed Peter, still laughing.
"Good one," replied Tim, picking up on what his friend meant.
Drifting off to explore all four corners of the gigantic cavern, their hissing, chuckling and coughing echoed out behind them.
Having lost all track of time, it was only on one of Peter's sitting out phases that he realised just how long they'd actually been there, and just how much trouble he'd be in once he eventually got Tim back. Unsurprisingly, it was difficult to tear Tim away from the falls, but the promise of another trip later on in the week eventually did the trick. As they retraced their steps, Peter marvelled at the progress Tim had made during the course of the day. Basic aerial manoeuvres were nearly well within his grasp. It wouldn't be long before he could consider full mastery of the skies, he thought, longing for his comfy bed so that he could close his weary eyes.
26
Secret Splicing Stupidity
Exhausted, that's how he felt. Deep down inside, he knew it was mainly due to his age, but it still disappointed him. In his youth, a very, very long time ago, he would have managed on little or no sleep at all. Now it was very different. Still, he'd had six hours a few nights ago and that should at least see him through until tomorrow night. Snuggled in the darkness, underneath the cosy covers of his huge dragon sized bed, he whispered a few carefully chosen words and waited for them to take hold.
'What was my app... associate thinking? Of all the things he could have done. This! Installing that blessed... what's it called? Oh, that's right. A webcam! How could he possibly think that I wouldn't find out about it? STUPID BOY!'
Rolling back the covers of his living room sized bed, the master mantra maker shook his wings and planted his feet firmly on the floor, happy to know that he wasn't being watched. The words he'd just spoken had cast a mantra which projected an image of him sleeping straight onto the lens of the webcam, allowing him to go about his sneaky business and continue his important after hours work. Disregarding his night cap, he plodded out through the door and downstairs into the workshop. Foregoing any kind of drink, not needing to be glued to the toilet any longer than he actually had to be (it was an age thing, much as in humans. Being as old as he was meant that there was nearly always an imprint of a toilet seat on his scaly old buttocks, that's how regularly he went, something that seemed to become more and more prominent with each and every day that passed.) That and the fact that it made him more grumpier than usual in the mornings, he started scrabbling around in one of the cupboards underneath the sink, the one marked 'Recycled Mantra Paper'. He'd had to be extra specially careful, particularly after Tank had caught him out with the Peruvian Mantra Ink.
'Goodness knows what else the young dragon's found out,' he thought as he rummaged. And so it was that the intricate work he'd been doing every night for months now, had to be wrapped up and hidden amongst an infernal number of old, useless scrolls. Eventually he found what he was looking for: a large, rolled up, shabby looking, piece of flimsy parchment, tied together with two pieces of ropey string. Holding it with both hands almost as if it were about to explode, he carried it over to one of the work benches, set it down and flopped into the oversized chair in front of it. Carefully, and with superb dexterity, he undid the string and removed each and every piece inside, placing them all just so on the work surface in front of him. What to him was the result of months of exhaustive experimentation and delicate work would have looked to anyone else like the aftermath of very young children sticking and gluing. But to him, the mess was exactly as it should be.
Starting some months ago, springing from an idea that had occurred to him while he'd been trying to save Flash's life at the king's private residence, the source of the idea had been all the talk of nagas and how they'd infiltrated the humans, much in the same way dragons had, the only difference being that the dragons were following their vow to protect, which almost certainly couldn't be said for those slippery serpents. Being the sneaky, off the wall maverick that he was, Gee Tee had decided something needed to be done about the naga situation. All his thoughts on the matter had centred around being able to stun the entire lot of them temporarily. Although not ideal as a permanent deterrent, it did at least seem achievable, and would buy the dragons some time, or just maybe get them out of a sticky situation.
In theory at least the idea was simple, but putting it into practice was something else altogether, not to mention dangerous, hence the reason he was doing it after dark and not giving his co-worker any clue to its existence. Having scoured his memory, the only way he could come up with to incorporate everything he needed into one mantra, was to use a method known as 'splicing', something that had been outlawed over one hundred and fifty years ago, that's how dangerous it was. But despite its illegality it was still practised, here and there anyway. Having not put his knowledge to good use in this format for many, many decades, the master mantra maker's keen mind was sure it would have no problems in completing this intricate and time consuming task. One thing he wasn't short of was confidence. So his night times at first were all about finding the right components from other mantras kicking around the Emporium, so that he could splice them into his alpha mantra. It took over a month to find what he was looking for. After that, the fun really began.
Splicing by its very nature can be dangerous in oh so many ways. Not just from the magical energy contained physically, such as in the page, scroll or tome. The power of thought can be a wonderful thing, as all dragons know. But when mantras are crafted, stray thoughts, ideas and willpower can be transferred, or can just unintentionally stick around. Either way, loose thoughts drifting around, combined with a sure supply of magical energy... not something you want to muck around with too much if you can help it. But if you want to splice, then it couldn't be avoided. Taking apart intricate details of a mantra with all these variables had proved disastrous in the past, leaving the council no choice but to officially ban such undertakings. But if you're careful, and more than a little lucky, it is possible to produce something so magical, so breathtakingly perfect, that all the risk would be considered worthwhile. This had been his goal, his aim, his obsession. Hopefully nobody knew of his out of hours exploits. Tank, of course, had always fussed over him, more so recently. Hence the reason for the webcam, he assumed, making sure that he was okay and got enough rest. Part of him felt warmed by the fact that his friend, as that's how he now thought of him, cared enough to do such a thing, but he was disappointed to have his liberty contained. It hadn't taken long to find out what it was, how it worked and just how it could be deceived, but it was a fuss to go through every night. Assuming it must be working perfectly, as the young dragon hadn't mentioned anything out of the ordinary, he was hopeful that things would stay that way, just for a little while longer. Tonight, if things went well, his dream would become a reality.
Having already gathered everything he required and retrieved the vital ingredients from their original mantras, the old dragon was ready to have a go at splicing together all the magical parts. Clearing his mind and focusing solely on the puzzle in front of him, he staved off the energy and willpower swirling around him from words, numbers, letters and symbols scattered across his desk. Very slowly, he moved the separate pieces around, this way and that, trying to find the most efficient order in which to channel the energy from the spell. So deep in concentration was he, that he missed the soft pad of footfalls slipping through the shop and into the workshop behind him.