Like a frozen statue, Manson seemed stuck in time as Rosebloom leapt up and flew at him with everything he had. As the particles of air in the room looked on, there could only be one outcome. And from the expression on Manson's face, he knew he was in trouble.
Air boiled, thrummed and crackled, becoming thicker, so much so that you could almost cut it with a knife. Every inch of Peter's skin felt prickly.
With nothing more than a flick of her fingers, Manson's queen, Earth, unleashed a torrent of deadly purple lightning at Rosebloom, catching him mid-flight and then holding him there, trapped like an animal at a zoo, helpless for all to see. The traitorous councillor writhed and wriggled, shouted and screamed for all the good it did him, his floating mass only inches away from its target... MANSON!
Peter gagged slightly, the overpowering smell of burnt flesh almost too much for him.
Tim sat bound to Peter, goggle eyed, absolutely terrified at the events unfolding to the side of him. If the purpose of this demonstration had been to induce paralytic fear into the White Dragon, then it had succeeded beyond any doubt.
After being momentarily lost for words and surprised at the speed, viciousness and, ultimately, courage Rosebloom had shown, Manson had now recomposed himself, after of course showering his queen with his brightest smile, a small thank you for the timely and most welcome save. Fingers still shooting lethal lightning, she returned his smile with interest, all the time her hair snaking about almost of its own accord, making her look like an ancient Medusa.
Ghostly grey, pungent smoke floated up from nearly every part of Rosebloom. His screams had turned to howls as blood dripped from his body and he tried to squirm his way out of the magical trap. But it was not to be.
"It's a shame you didn't show that kind of backbone when you worked for me," snarled Manson.
Both Peter and Tim recognised that what was left of the councillor was trying to spit into Manson's face, without very much luck. Not only was the air too thick and full of sizzling lightning, but the councillor was just too dehydrated and near death. Turning his head towards his new queen, Manson uttered two words:
"FINISH IT!"
She did. The increase in power to her lightning was intense, enough to force Peter and Tim to close their eyes and look away. Over the blistering assault on Rosebloom's body, the two friends could make out Earth's squeals of pleasure. It terrified both of them to their very cores.
And then without warning it was over, the bright, violent light fading, the crackling and sizzling of the magic replaced by the sound of Earth panting like an exhausted dog. Fighting off the urge to vomit, and really not wanting to, Peter opened his eyes. His imagination had long since run away, but somehow the sight that greeted him was worse. On the floor in front of Manson, Rosebloom's charred cadaver lay smoking away, every bit of it blacker than the darkest lump of coal. Manson strolled over and embraced Earth; the elderly dragon disguised as a human, Peter noticed, looked on disapprovingly.
Bile rose in Peter's throat at the sight of them celebrating their cold and heinous act.
Manson turned and headed in the direction of the two bound friends, kicking the charred lump of flesh on his way.
"This," he pointed at the corpse with his stick, "is what awaits not only the two of you, but the rest of the weak willed dragons and each and every one of their pet humans," he spat. "Now you'll have to excuse me," he said, turning and walking back to Earth and his father, "I've got to go and make sure your friend the king isn't getting too comfortable... laters."
With that the three of them trooped off, leaving the two friends sitting in front of the scorched carcass, pondering their own fate.
13
A Handy Surprise
Surrounded and outnumbered, Flash couldn't believe the situation he found himself in. Fredric, Peter's grandfather and founder of the elite Crimson Guards, shot him a look. A look that said he wanted very much to join the fight, wanted to bet his life, wanted to be free one way or the other. As the captive dragon stretched them taut, the unbreakable chains jingled briefly, just to the side of Flash.
A chuckle, half cackle, half laugh, resounded around the cavern from the foul smelling, deranged looking being that headed across the ice towards them. Fredric's face contorted with rage at seeing the jailer, all smug and full of himself. He had no doubt it would cost him a beating later, or worse. He didn't care.
"How nice of you to join us... dragon," the jailer spluttered in broken English, still considering whether or not his enemy actually belonged to that kind of race.
Swallowing nervously as the nagas closed in around him from all sides, Flash put on a brave face.
"This has to stop now!" he demanded, puffing out his chest.
Howling with laughter, the filthy jailer spat in his direction.
"What makes you think you're in any position to make demands? Look around you. This is only going to go one way. And as luck would have it, we currently have a vacancy for a new guest," he said, pointing to the crumbled corpse of Bag O' Bones off in the distance.
A sickening terror climbed up Flash's legs at the very thought of being incarcerated in this frozen hell. His stomach flipped, while his arms went weak.
'Better to die fighting than be captured and held here,' he thought to himself, setting his mind on a reckless course of action. With the nagas closing in, forming an impenetrable semi circle, Flash started picking out targets, determined to take as many as possible with him. Just as he did so, he caught sight of something ridiculous, directly behind the nagas in front of him. Wavering in mid-air, a hand, seemingly attached to nothing, palm facing him, fingers outstretched, just hovered there. At first he thought he was dreaming. Then the more rational (ha) explanation hit him, as the thumb on the hand tucked into the palm, followed quickly by the closest finger. Time slowed. Every fraction of a second became a minute to Flash. He knew what was happening. It was a countdown. Clearly Yoyo and the others were present in the cavern now... but a countdown to what? That was the question.
Another finger dropped on the hand. Flash plundered the depths of his mind for the right mantra. Hundredths of a second later, he had it ready to go.
'A concussive blast in a 180° arc, perfect,' he thought.
The second from last finger dropped.
The jailer had moved in close, close enough for Flash to smell his sickeningly cloying breath, a mixture of rotting fish and whale innards if he wasn't mistaken. Flash's stomach howled in protest.
As the last finger dropped, in his mind Flash spoke the words, putting all his belief and intent behind them. Immediately, all hell broke loose.
Unleashing the blast, Flash caught them all by surprise and took the jailer and the first row of the surrounding nagas off their feet. On top of that, colourful magic had appeared from all around, to devastating effect.
It was on. GAME TIME!
14
Silent Running (Well, A Fast Walk)
Gathered in the ruins of a burnt out shop, the eclectic group were all on guard, even the human contingent. They'd yet to travel even a mile through the battered and torn fire and smoke filled landscape since leaving the Hampton Court nursery ring. All of them were stunned at the utter devastation of the attacks. Their upbeat mood had quickly changed on seeing the first dragon corpses. A couple by the look of things, taking their dragon egg to the nursery ring. Evidently no mercy was shown, no quarter given. From the position of their bodies, they'd died trying to protect their offspring, with the egg itself having been smashed to pieces. Fragments of shell lay strewn throughout the debris. If the group needed a reminder of the brutality of the events they'd found themselves tangled up in, then this had certainly done the trick. Some of the humans had been sick. At least half a dozen dragons looked pale, almost in shock. It wasn't exactly the kind of start to his leadership that he'd hoped for. So here they were, in the first real defendable position they'd come to. With all those not on lookout duty taking on water, the old shopkeeper wondered how his friends were doing on their separate missions. Silently he wished them well, wondering if he'd ever see them again. These were dangerous times; the future was hard to fathom. Falling rubble off in the distance startled him back to the present. Letting out a huge yawn, he padded over to the gathered group.