'How odd.'
It had been going on since before she'd got to this particular rooftop. Deciding to interrupt her progress, she'd dropped down into her little hidey hole, puzzled at what was playing out at ground level, about a quarter of a mile away.
Surrounded by a quartet of raging fires, three nagas were tearing into the bodies of half a dozen dragons. When I say tearing into, I mean eating of course. It was disgusting, repulsive... gross! They tore and chomped, ripped and gorged, all out in the open, lit up by the fires for all to see.
The bile in her stomach bubbled, but not nearly as much as the hatred inside her. She seethed. Not only did the spectacle disgust her more than anything she'd ever seen, but it pushed her to the very edge of reason. More than anything she wanted revenge, retribution, vengeance. Stoked by the laminium in the dagger tucked behind her back, she knew that making her wishes come true was a real possibility. But the responsibility she'd been entrusted with by not only the beings that had chosen her to lead, but by Flash who'd given her the insight that led her to be here, alone and uncomfortable, crushed any thought of violence against the sick group down below. As well, there was something else... something that niggled at her. She couldn't fathom what it was, but something about the whole thing was just WRONG! Of course what they were doing was wrong, but it wasn't that... something else was going on.
As she stared silently out across the smouldering visage of a gutted and razed London, huge areas reduced to ashes, a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye captured her attention.
Two of them rose from behind a clump of houses. One was smoky blue all over, a giant of a dragon, small protrusions running the length of its back. The other was mostly brown, but with just a hint of green running along its belly, spiralling out along its tail. Not as large as his friend, the fierce look on its face more than made up for its lack of size.
Richie observed the two dragons as they headed at speed towards the filthy, vile group of nagas. Deep down inside, she wished she were with them, adrenaline pumping, ready to do the right thing and send the depraved serpents deep into the realms of hell. But as she watched, too far away to make a blind bit of difference to the outcome, alarm bells started to ring inside her head. Letting out a tiny gasp, a single teardrop trickled from her left eye, plotting a course straight down her cheek.
The two determined dragons were on a high speed course for the centre of the three nagas, who, if they'd even seen the dragons heading their way, weren't concerned at all. And by the looks of things, with good reason. Dark shapes from out of the rubble and ruined buildings, in a concentric circle, with the dragon munching nagas at the very centre, appeared as if by magic. Richie looked on as the shadowy beings weaved their hands and fingers intricately, releasing a torrent of spells in the dragons' direction. They had no chance. The smoky blue one managed to erect a half decent shield as his friend, having been hit by a streak of rippling black energy, plummeted towards the ground. 'Smoky', as Richie now thought of him, had a tough decision to make... she urged him to run, knowing full well just how outgunned he was. Maybe if he had, right at that very first instant, he might have got away, but of course he didn't. She watched as he dropped down, trying to recover his friend. By now, the dark shapes were on the move, weaving in and out of the burning wreckage and debris, homing in on their prey. Valiantly lifting his friend's shattered body above his, 'Smoky' attempted a dash for the skies. But it wasn't to be. By now the dark shapes had all materialised into nagas, and they had all but surrounded the two dragons. It had been a trap all along, designed to prey on the dragons' sense of righteousness, designed to stoke their anger and get them to attack. More tears flowed for Richie as she sat huddled in the shadows, watching her enemy tear each and every bone from both of the dragons' bodies. For her now, the simmering anger had turned to fear. What on earth had she got herself into? And how were they supposed to defeat an enemy so barbaric and brutal? These were the questions that ran around and around her head as she sat and waited for the sordid, sickening beasts to move on.
Earth's surface. Cripple Creek Reserve, Australia.
Weather conditions were absolutely perfect for what they had in mind. And so here they were on the riverbank of a small creek, about to set free one of God's true miracles... FIRE! Lowering the tailgate on the dirty white beat up pick up that they'd bought for $500 two days earlier, both grabbed a petrol can each, before heading in opposite directions along the stream's bank. At roughly fifty metre intervals, they stopped, poured a line of fuel throughout the dry scrub and then moved on, repeating the process five times each, before returning to the truck. It wasn't subtle, clever, or technologically advanced, what they were doing. But they'd been ordered to raise hell, create havoc and have the humans running for their lives. And so this is what they'd decided on. No one would question a couple of mates heading off out into the countryside for the weekend. And who didn't carry a few spare cans of fuel around with them these days? This was of course Australia. Having double checked the weather forecast in an effort to maximise casualties and the fear factor, they'd set out into the Blue Mountains, west of Sydney, to carry out their dastardly plan. The two had been in Australia for months, blending in, carrying on in their day jobs, going about their business, meeting up in the local bar most evenings, joining in with the revelry, whilst at the same time trying to remain aloof. It worked for the most part, with the locals liking them enough to be considered regulars, but having not quizzed them about what they did, or where they came from. As far as they were concerned, anonymity was key and had been maintained as much as possible. Ian and Steve (those were the names they'd been assigned, totally at random) had gotten to like those they'd met around these parts, with neither having had a quarrel with or a bad word to say about the humans they dwelt alongside. But at the end of the day, they were totally and utterly loyal to their race, loyal to their leader, and loyal to the idea of freeing him from evil's grip.
So when the emails arrived, no consideration was given to the humans, despite them not really wanting to hurt them. It wasn't really even a matter of choice. And so the plan had been devised, without even that much careful consideration. It was hard to see what could go wrong with something so basic. Forest fires were always breaking out on their own this time of year. They were just giving nature a little nudge in the right direction, figuring that if they started it in the right place, and with just a little luck with the weather conditions, which were supposed to be very much in their favour, then it just might be possible to initiate a blaze that engulfed the whole of the mountain range. Potentially it could spread as far along as Newcastle in the north, and as far south as Wollongong. If so, then millions of people could be affected, and that was just in Sydney and its outlying suburbs. All they had to do was hope that the wind stayed with them.
Having met up back at the pickup, Ian grabbed the last can of fuel and wandered one hundred metres over to the edge of the forest. Reaching the third tree in, he unscrewed the cap and began shaking petrol all over its massive trunk. Once he'd finished that one, he started on the next, and then the next. After five minutes, he'd drained the can and, discarding it on the floor, took out his lighter. Glancing back over his shoulder, he could just make out Steve back at the truck, ready to light one of the streams of fuel adjacent to the creek. Igniting the lighter, he squatted down and lit the base of the tree nearest to the edge of the forest. Instantly the flame took, caressing and licking the side of the huge trunk, before leaping off up into the branches, while a trail of fire shot along the parched scrub to the next tree. It was mesmerising and Ian found himself hooked on the beauty of the searing blaze. That is until a shout came from back over his shoulder. It was Steve, urging him to run, as the fuel he'd already lit had developed into what could only be described as a roaring inferno. Turning instantly, Ian sprinted back towards the creek, while Steve jumped in the pickup, started the engine and drove off back up the red dusty track they'd come down, stopping only momentarily to wait for his mate. With a sea of yellow, orange, red and blue consuming everything in its path visible in the rear view mirror, the two of them knew better than to stick around. Flooring the gas pedal, the back wheels of the truck spun as sand flew into the air far behind them. As the tyres finally gripped the sun scorched surface, the truck took off up the track, disappearing around a sharp bend that would lead them back to the main road. By now, thick plumes of dark black smoke bellowed into the bright blue sky behind them. The wind had picked up, as was its wont, and now a howling gale threw fire not just from tree to tree, but carried it for hundreds of metres. In the friends' wildest dreams, they could never have imagined their plan starting off so well.