"Seven days ago, the world changed. The very nature of this planet changed. It wasn't predicted or forecast. No one either here or above had a clue what was coming. But come it did. As your king, the responsibility for defending not only our realm, but that of the humans above... falls to me. It was I, who let you down. It was I, who should have been aware of the threat. And let me assure you now, the burden of this failure will live strong in me for the rest of my life."
There was a long pause while the king just stared silently into the camera, almost as if taking the measure of each and every dragon out there.
7
The Mark Of True Evil
Strangely, the underground world which the dragons inhabited wasn't quite the idyllic realm that most liked to think. Much like its counterpart on the surface, it had its fair share of squalor and deeply shady depths. In one of those depths, in a run down, long since forgotten about suburb of London, beings that didn't belong, outsiders, were up to no good.
Through a heavy, metal, rusting, side door, a steady stream of nagas slithered into the dark, abandoned building. A cowled human form stood silently at the front next to an authoritative looking naga who was overseeing operations. As the shop floor of what had previously been a thriving laminium ball merchandise factory, which had moved on to bigger and better premises, filled up with many hundreds of nagas, an overpowering smell of decaying fish pervaded every last part of the run down building. Only when all the available space had been filled did the naga in charge speak.
"You know why we're all here. The debt to our captured king must be honoured if he is to be free again. It won't be long before we can leave all of this and return to the cold solitude of the waters we call our own. Until then, we have instructions to follow, a mission to help accomplish. You are here to swear a magical oath to the future leader of not only the cursed dragons, but of the entire planet itself. When this has come to pass, you will be released from your bond, any obligations forgotten. You will now repeat the chant."
At that, every naga made themselves that bit straighter, that bit taller, in anticipation of what was to come.
Drawing back his cowl, the human shape that had stood unmoving at the front revealed a scarred and disfigured face. Humans, or even dragons, would have gasped, that's how bad it was. But it made no difference to the nagas; they cared not for aesthetics of any kind. Intricately moving his fingers while at the same time weaving his hands out in front of him, he began to recite the chant.
"Droch me ha. Nee somme so ta vecht ma recht."
"DROCH ME HA. NEE SOMME SO TA VECHT MA RECHT," the beasts repeated loudly.
"Tol va diemme growd rolle simme so dul vedre nol rol sect burreme."
Like robots duplicating their master, the nagas continued.
"TOL VA DIEMME GROWD ROLLE SIMME SO DUL VEDRE NOL ROL SECT BURREME."
Swirls of multicoloured energy poured forth from the disfigured man's fingertips, creating a ribbon of rainbow coloured tentacles, stretching out in front of the gathered cast. This time he shouted the commands he wished the nagas to follow.
"AUTARUM ASISIES CONDULT SPERONUM TRACTORIN REDONC VASSIL EARONIST. SEDORST SECRETE SANTORUM FOREVST."
"AUTARUM ASISIES CONDULT SPERONUM TRACTORIN REDONC VASSIL EARONIST. SEDORST SECRETE SANTORUM FOREVST."
A multicoloured rainbow of magic exploded out across the assembled crowd, causing them all to close their eyes, taking more than ten seconds to dissipate. On opening their eyes, they weren't in the least bit surprised to find that they now all bore the same marking, imbued on their bodies. It was a starburst, only instead of being orange, it was the darkest shade of black known, beams of dark light springing out at all angles.
The ceremony seemingly over, one by one the nagas filed out, the same way they'd come in. With one difference. As they left, they were all, to a being, issued with massive, evil looking bastard swords, some with scabbards, others attached to bandoliers, the rest hanging from futuristic belts.
With this going on, it took some time before the building was empty. When it was, the whole process started over again. And that wouldn't be the last time either.
8
A Broken Promise?
A shiver ran down her spine as she shook her head, glad to be away from the father... he was an odd one, and scary too. Footsteps crunching on the gravel as she walked across the courtyard between buildings, well... wooden barns actually, this had been their home for a while now, but that was all coming to an end, hence her little walk in the freezing cold. Opening the wooden framed glass door, she edged through and then pulled it shut behind her, relieved to be back inside. Stopping to pull the zip down on her coat a little, hating that feeling of her breathing being restricted in any way, shape or form, feeling better able to breathe, she followed the maze of narrow corridors until she stood at the entrance to the biggest room. Manson was on the phone, and she knew better than to interrupt him. It would have to be something really important for that, so she waited... and listened.
"Yes... I'm looking at the chaos now, as we speak. The pathetic humans' desire to cover every news event anywhere, in graphic detail, never ceases to amaze me. They're even showing the blast crater in Thailand. Pathetic really," he said, holding the phone to his right ear while gazing steadily at the pictures from the news broadcast on the shiny, metallic television in the corner of the room. Silence followed as he listened intently to what the voice on the other end had to say.
"And you've done exactly as we agreed. I couldn't be happier. More chaos and mayhem than the planet is experiencing now, would be hard to imagine. Ahhh... now just a second," he said, turning on the spot, acknowledging his visitor with a nod of his head. "What we agreed was that I would deliver him to you as soon as I had control of the dragon kingdom, and while I'm the first to admit that this has all been a huge step in the right direction, we're not quite there yet. It should only be a matter of days now if everything goes to plan, and then you'll have him back. I PROMISE!"
She could hear the caller on the other end go very quiet, before eventually letting out a soft, "Okay," that echoed out through the phone's speaker.
"Now I need the coordinates and time of the transfer." There was a short pause before he started repeating what was being relayed to him down the phone. "37° 31'32.28N, 75° 56'42.34W at 1.15am," he confirmed, picking up a scrap piece of paper and a red biro from the desk, and while holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder, writing the information on the paper, using the side of an old wooden bookcase to lean on.
"I'll be in touch," he announced, before hitting the red hang-up button shaped like a phone on his key pad, and looking up at his visitor.
"Problems?" she enquired.
"Uhhhh... just the sweet little nagas wanting their king back." He smiled at the thought. "Of course... they will get him back, just in a few more pieces than they bargained for, when their usefulness is all but up."
Just the thought of the double cross the nagas were about to be on the end of brought memories of the disillusioned sewer worker in Chicago flooding back. Having done her bidding, he'd expected the promised 'big payoff'. Instead all he got was a bullet in the head and a swim with the fishes. Some beings could be so gullible.
Grinning like a deranged clown, he strolled over and put his arm around her shoulders.