'Oh well,' he thought, 'here goes nothing,' and with that followed his friend's example, right down to the "GERONIMO!"
Across the world phones rang, emails arrived, text messages were received. Innocuous looking for the most part, but in reality, far from it. All the communications had one thing in common. Three words were used in each. Rare, requisition and relinquish. Innocent enough you might think, but not if the recipients were waiting for those very three words. In this case... THEY WERE! Nagas across the globe, most disguised as humans, some as dragons, were all being made aware that something was imminent. Something was coming, a storm of change. All were now on alert, ready to act at a moment's notice.
34
SUB-mission
A few hours ago, that's when the partying had finished. Clearing up the beautiful little town would begin early in the morning. But now, for the most part, Swanage slept on a warm summer's night.
The bay was the surface of a pizza, the boats and yachts the mouth watering toppings. All aboard had stayed up long into the night. All now slept.
Only a few hundred yards beyond the bay, in the much deeper water, a dark shape silently broke the almost mill pond still surface, creating barely a ripple. By now, the epic submarine's powerful engines were resting, the state of the art craft anchored to the seabed in what would be regarded as quite a minimal amount of water. Noiselessly, hatches opened aboard the dark metallic sea monster. Eclectic shadows scuttled to and fro. A small dinghy with an advanced electric motor appeared from somewhere. Carefully, it was lowered into the sea. More dark shapes, some moving faster than others, transferred aboard the smaller vessel. Its complement complete, it sped off towards the bay, heading directly for the town itself, the gigantic sea monster that had spat it out swallowed up once again by the ocean.
Cautiously, giving the vessels in the bay as wide a berth as possible, the dinghy found its way to the tiny slipway in the very centre of town, adjacent to huge three storey guest houses and fabulous fish and chip shops.
Two nagas in their peculiar human forms were first to step off the boat, followed quickly by Manson, leaving the female sitting next to the old dragon Troydenn. Strolling purposefully up the slippery, cobbled slope, Manson's head darted this way and that, constantly on the lookout for danger. From out of the arched doorway of the nearest guest house, a figure emerged and tentatively made its way forward, past the bins overflowing with fish and chip wrappings and around the plump seagulls, still squabbling over the remnants of what had previously been someone's meal. Both nagas tensed, ready to spring. Before they had a chance, the low light provided reassurance that the figure was a familiar one. Manson clasped the figure's hand tightly.
"Rosebloom!" he whispered, aware that the windows of the surrounding houses and flats were all open wide on this hot summer's night.
The traitorous councillor, currently in his human form, still sporting a ridiculously long pony tail, grasped his co-conspirator's hand.
"Good to see you," he replied quietly. "There's nobody about. We have people keeping watch. We've secured one of the entrances, here and down below. and are ready to go."
Manson nodded.
"Great work," he uttered softly.
"Your father would be very proud," commented another voice from behind them, much too loud for Manson's liking.
"Thank you," ventured Rosebloom. "It's my honour, like it was my father's, to help and serve."
Manson turned to face his serious looking father.
"We need to be quiet," he hissed, pointing up to some of the open windows around them all, "and we need to move swiftly and silently." The ancient dragon's face took on a look of thunder at being told what to do, but at least he had the common sense not to pick a fight in response, not here anyway. No doubt that would be something to look forward to later.
With the woman joining them, Rosebloom led them past the fish and chip shops, across the main road, up a steep, narrow road, into a rundown ground floor flat. Off in the distance, the delicate sound of the dinghy's electric motor faded into nothing. A disguised being in human form held open the front door while they all filed past. Following Rosebloom through a deserted kitchen into a crowded open plan living room, a disjointed group of beings all rose to their feet as the submarine cohorts arrived. Quick, impromptu introductions were made by Rosebloom, something that Manson and Troydenn both seemed unimpressed with.
"Who's that?" exclaimed Troydenn, pointing at a seemingly middle aged human lying on the floor off to one side, his throat cut.
"The current occupant of the flat," answered the traitorous councillor nonchalantly. "I thought I'd secured his cooperation, but he had second thoughts at the last minute... something I'm assuming he's rather regretting at this very moment."
Manson stormed right up into Rosebloom's face.
"YOU ASSURED US IT HAD ALL BEEN PLANNED TO PERFECTION," he growled.
"I... I... I... I... It has been," stammered the, by now, very nervous Councillor.
"If this is your idea of 'planned to perfection', it makes me wonder what else there is that can go wrong," raged Manson. "WE CAN'T AFFORD ANY SLIP UPS!"
"The... the... there... wo... wo... won't be. It's all sorted."
"Hmmmmphf!" snorted Manson.
"I'm sure our good councillor here has everything under control," remarked Troydenn softly, patting Rosebloom gently on the shoulder. "In that, I don't doubt he's just like his father. And I'm particularly sure he hasn't forgotten what those misbegotten, lying, cheating, thieving dragons did to his dear father, after all."
"I most certainly haven't," fumed the treacherous councillor, simmering with anger.
"Good," replied Troydenn, "because it's almost time for payback... for us all!"
Manson looked on like a pent up raging bull. Timidly nodding, whilst still shaking, Rosebloom ordered the guards to pull back the dark green sofa that smelt deeply of cigarette smoke, to reveal a set of wooden steps disappearing off into the dark, rectangular hole.
"And this is your idea of easy, is it?" sneered Manson, wondering how on earth they were going to get Troydenn all the way into the dragon domain down a stairwell.
"It's only four flights," responded the quivering councillor, "and then there's a freight elevator we can use. The previous incumbent used it to transfer fresh fish into the domain. The elevator can easily take us all."
"I hope so for your sake!" spat Manson, stomping off down the steps into the darkness.
"Don't worry about him," reassured Troydenn, all the time watched by the woman. "He's just keen to get on with the next phase. As soon as we start that, he'll be much better tempered."
The woman and the councillor both very much doubted that.
35
Reunited
Having reported in, he'd been told to get some rest. Although that sounded nice, it wasn't what he needed, particularly since he'd been away for so long. There was something more important, more primal, that required his time. So hoping for a little luck, he'd set out... and a short monorail hop and a quick walk led him to Camelot Arcade. Striding boldly forward towards the Mantra Emporium, something familiar begged for his attention. Stopping right in the middle of the deserted walkway, he screwed up his face, trying to seek out just what was wrong. Extending his senses, he searched further, deeper. But he could find nothing, no beings, no mantras... NOTHING! But his feeling of unease was off the scale bad. Looking around, he switched through his different visions, still having no luck. About to give up when it hit him, like one of Tank's brutal rugby tackles... that smell! It was the same smell he'd experienced when tracking across America, the same smell that haunted his Antarctic dreams... NAGAS! And they'd been here, recently. Sprinting the rest of the way, he darted through the door, ready for any eventuality.