"We've stopped for two reasons. One, so that we can all take on some much needed water. And two," continued the old dragon, "so that I can apply something that might just give us an edge."
One or two of the dragon faces in his tiny audience perked up noticeably.
"It's a little mantra that SHOULD render everyone here totally and utterly silent in everything they do, other than their speech."
He was rewarded by a collective intake of breath. The experienced warriors amongst the dragons had a very good idea of exactly what this could do for their chances. Motioning for those on lookout duty to rejoin the group, Gee Tee pushed his glasses as far up his nose as they would go, closed his eyes, relaxed his body and focused his thoughts. Eventually he found the solace he was looking for, but not before getting slightly disappointed at how much longer it now took. In his youth, he'd have been ready to go in the blink of an eye, but now just finding that state of mind was a struggle. Old age, no doubt, just like all the other things that niggled him about his body. Trouble remembering, clumsily knocking things over, deteriorating vision and feeling the need to pee almost as soon as he'd just gone... he was sure if Tank had his way he'd be wrapped up in some kind of rubber pants, sooner rather than later. Imagine that... a dragon in rubber pants. It doesn't bear thinking about, well... unless that's your thing.
Cleared of all thoughts, he let his mind call forth the words he'd last whispered in the Mantra Emporium with Tank, when Peter had wandered in right at the end. Briefly the air in and around the ruins shimmered, like glitter being sprinkled onto a picture by a small child. And then it was done. None of the group moved... at first. Then one or two of them tentatively padded across the broken rubble of the shop. Gasps of surprise abounded all round at the effectiveness of the old shopkeeper's magic.
Knowing full well that every second mattered in what they had set out to achieve, Gee Tee figured that, with their movements shrouded in silence, they could perhaps pick up the pace a little. Not running exactly, but more of a fast walk. That should at least get them back on track, and might well prevent any nasty surprises from the enemy.
"It's time to move out," he whispered, a large part of him really not wanting to. As the force picked up their belongings and arranged themselves in their previous order, with the humans in the middle, himself towards the front and one or two of the more combat experienced dragons at the front and rear, he once again thought of his friends, hoping that they were safe.
15
Stampede
Irritated, that's how the leader of the small group of nagas felt. Whatever was so important, why not just say it in person, he thought. Telepathic contact was so draining and unnecessary. No doubt he'd made some terrific discovery about one of the species down here. BOO HOO! There were hundreds of different varieties held captive here, and he was going to catalogue at least a dozen before it was time to go back and report to their so called leader. He knew if he didn't, things would go very badly. Although he'd not been told to do so, his imagination played out some brutal scenes, with Manson asking him time and time again as to why he hadn't used his initiative and made a note of some of the different types. So he was damn sure that's what he was going to do, and as far as he was concerned, the more the merrier.
Back towards the entrance to the underground enclosure, the relative silence was pierced by the ripping and twisting of metal, a small hole at first, made much larger in only a short space of time. Without warning a massive claw began to peel back the alloy of what only a few moments ago was the wall of one of the cells, and then another, and then another, until the gap was large enough for one of the creatures to clamber through. Which it did. A scorpion's body, nearly the size of a car, its venomous tail darting this way and that, clearly looking for a suitable target. Although unusual in itself, that wasn't the weirdest thing. Exactly where the head should have been, mid-way between two thick, meaty claws was instead the torso, head and arms of a human. Long, mangy, matted dark hair ran halfway down the back of the first male to make it out, anxious to see the outside of the prison he'd only just discovered had held him and his friends. It wasn't long before there were scorpion men as far as the eye could see, well if you had night vision, which indeed they all did. Their clacking pincers added to the ever building noise.
Elsewhere in the basement, creatures from only the darkest of nightmares roamed. Eagles with two heads soared above the cells, occasionally dive bombing other species. Pixiu... winged lions darted through the air, from one walkway to another. Asena... blue maned wolves, skulked in packs throughout the darkness, on the hunt, but on the hunt for what? Conaima... giant were-jaguars padded softly this way and that, most on the lookout for their next meal, the rest guarding their newly born young. The evil trumpeting and stamping of a giant elephant beast off in one corner caught the attention of more than one group of animals. All had the same reaction. Whatever that was, it was to be avoided at all costs. All of that combined with the shape-shifting venomous snakes, myrmecoleon, a sort of ant/lion hybrid, hundreds of fire breathing gnats, a group of scaled apes, all having four arms, a pack of vampiric lizards that were spitting lightning, and something called an asag, if the name on the cell was anything to go by, a giant hideous rock demon. More and more species were coming to the fore. How long would it be before they escaped the basement good and proper?
It started out of nowhere. Using one of their ancient hunting techniques, one single nifoloa had used its razor sharp tooth to secret itself beneath one of the alleyways, the rest of the swarm sitting on a wall just around the corner.
All aware that something was wrong, but not knowing exactly what, the group of nagas were more hesitant now. They slithered to a halt at a four way intersection, each facing in a different direction, all looking out for trouble.
Tapping into all his magic, he'd tried to contact his missing comrade telepathically, ironic given that he'd rejected his last communication. But there was nothing. No contact... just a fuzzy kind of background static. He ordered the others to try, but they had no luck either. Something was wrong, and despite not having had any communication with the different species that were contained here, only moments before he'd come to the conclusion it was time to get out, even if it meant facing the wraith of Manson. His thick, forked, snake-like tongue hissed from his mouth as he opened it to tell the others of his decision. Excruciating pain blazed into existence deep within his tail, forcing him to temporarily lose his balance.
"Whoa... are you okay?" asked one of the others.
"I... I... I..." was all that the leader could get out.
Surrounding their stricken colleague, the others hoped to gain some insight into what had happened. But before they could, a fierce buzzing came out of nowhere, igniting their threat sense and alerting them to a much more imminent danger.