Richie let out her breath, not really aware that she'd been holding it in. It felt as though a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders, despite her battered and bruised body.
"You're all very welcome," she mumbled, not really knowing what to say.
"Just one thing though," whispered the dragon. "Are you out of your tiny little mind? Bringing humans here?" Shaking his giant skull, the huge dragon roared with laughter. "Inspired, truly inspired."
Joining the dragon laughing, it was only then she wondered what she must have been thinking? Humans... saving dragons. Mad, absolutely mad. Quickly, the moment passed and, for her, it was back to the business at hand.
"What now?" she enquired, eyeing the motionless Casey suspiciously. She hadn't forgotten he was there, quite the opposite in fact. She was looking forward to someone extracting some information from him.
Kneeling down beside Tank, Flash looked over his shoulder to see if he could summon a little help. Richie, he could see, was deep in discussion with the group of local dragons, while the humans (he smirked at that, still not able to believe that they were here and more importantly, had saved everybody) remained gathered around the old shopkeeper, doing their best to rouse him. Help looked as though it wouldn't be forthcoming anytime soon. Deciding to fall back on his training, he'd already tried everything obvious, perhaps it was time for the unconventional.
Something that had always stuck with him was an afternoon spent alone with one of his dragon trainers, many decades ago. The trainer in question was thought to have been a little... long in the tooth both in age, and quite literally. His name was Smoking Bandit, and derived from his time raiding human settlements across Nepal, throughout the early seventeen hundreds. Once caught by the council, who at the time had no idea what to do with him, the death penalty had been one distinct possibility, but on closer cross examination they discovered that Smoking Bandit had an almost unrivalled knowledge of human weaponry and guerrilla fighting tactics. Arguing for many days, the council's vote eventually led to them giving him a training position, after using a mantra to bind him to the dragon domain, thus preventing him from ever seeing the surface of the planet again. And so it was that Flash found himself under the tutelage of the elderly dragon, who, on getting to know him just a little, was much more than he appeared. As well as being a human weaponry and battle tactics expert, Smoking Bandit had on occasion, mixed with the other dragon colonies on the surface. At that time, there weren't many, well, not in their natural form anyway. But tucked away, particularly in the more remote parts of Nepal, small enclaves of their race thrived in secretive communities. One of those communities had welcomed Smoking with open wings, letting him stay for a while, trying to encourage him to join on a more permanent basis. It wasn't really his thing though, but he had for a while enjoyed the company of members of his own race. And in doing so, he'd gained much in the way of knowledge, in particular, obscure mantras, a wealth of medicinal knowledge, and some rather bizarre and unlikely seeming cures for all sorts of dragon ailments. That afternoon, Smoking Bandit decided that Flash was worthy, well, those were his words, of being the custodian of all the information that he'd been entrusted with. Amongst everything that he'd gleaned that day, there was one mantra in particular called 'fanning the flames', that he always thought about. It was always kicking around inside his head at the end of every battle, especially if there were casualties of any sort. He'd never had to use it before, but since nothing else had seemed to work, he figured he had nothing to lose.
In front of them, the old dragon with the glasses who'd given them the weapons lay still on the cobbles. Flash had already determined that his breathing was okay, but every few minutes, one of the humans leaned in just to check this was still the case. They were taking it in turns, and it had come to be Janice's. Kneeling down next to his giant head, she rested one hand on the scales that ran down from his cheek, and moved her head slowly forward, turning it to one side as she did so. She could hear the air escaping his jaws, and there was no mistaking the fetid odour of methane. Rising back to her feet, she nodded to the others.
"He's still breathing," she uttered. They all nodded back, still not knowing what to do, desperate to help the old dragon; after all, without him, none of this would have been possible. Staring solemnly in silence, apart from Janice, who was keeping a close eye on Flash and Tank on the far side of the huge square, she wondered what was going on. Judging from the look of concern carved into Flash's bruised and beaten mug, he faced a dilemma of his own. In her head, she whispered a silent prayer for both Tank and the dragon sprawled out in front of her.
In response to the lacrosse playing dragon's question, the freed dragons, all local residents, had gathered into a huddle. Richie stood, looking on, wondering exactly what they were discussing. One of them she knew had to take charge... and soon! The situation called for it. They needed to collate everything they knew from everyone still alive, try to work out exactly what was going on, and formulate a plan. They needed a leader, someone to follow, someone to inspire... someone who could help them... WIN! Knowing they had little time to waste, she hoped their discussion would end soon. As always, she found waiting the hardest thing to bear. More importantly though, she was fully aware of everything around her. Although she hadn't looked in either direction, she knew that Gee Tee was lying prone off to her right, just as Flash was tending to Tank further off to her left. Desperate to see how her friends were doing, her instinct screamed inside her to wait here for the dragons' decision. Closing her eyes, taking a deep breath, she softly wished to be granted more patience, as every second that passed while she just stood there, seemed to ring out in her head.
'Come on, come on, how hard can it be?' she thought. 'It can't possibly take this long. You're all dragons, after all.'
Knowing what he had to do, oddly, the injuries inflicted by the sadistic Casey with his crackling energy whip made things easier. Tank lay on his back, his chest exposed for all to see, huge amounts of skin missing due to the welts of the whip. Just looking at the state of his friend made him want to throw up, although he himself had pretty much the same injuries, just not quite as deep, because Casey had taken more pleasure and put more energy into every stroke of the whip when he'd hit Tank. In some ways Flash thought himself lucky. But now he needed to ignore his own pain and concentrate on his friend. Bringing his left arm over and above Tank's damaged chest, Flash found a part that was bleeding profusely and pressed it firmly to a bloody section of his friend's torso. At precisely the moment of contact, Flash's head swam with more pain than he could cope with. It took him several seconds to regroup and push the pain to one side. He felt for Tank, fearing for him at the same time. The extent of the agony was truly staggering, very much off the scale. He'd been trained to deal with it, and almost couldn't cope, but his friend... Over the course of his colourful life, he'd heard of beings driven mad in such situations, and could now understand why. Aware of just how strong his friend was, he knew this would be the test of his life. Flash hoped with all his heart that Tank passed with flying colours.
The dragons' impromptu discussion broke up, all of them striding purposefully back in Richie's direction.
'About time,' was all she could think, desperate to offer Flash all the help she could, and see how Gee Tee was doing. Walking right up to her, the dragon who'd asked the question would be intimidating for most, not even close for Richie. As they gathered round, Richie's impatience got the better of her.
"Well?" she declared.