Earth's surface. Coari, Amazon River, Brazil.
With the sound of the thick, brown river water gurgling and wriggling only a matter of yards away, the three men and two women slipped silently through the rickety door, closing it as tightly as possible behind them. Flicking the switch, bringing the room's solitary light bulb to life, all five of them formed a circle on the hole-ridden, partially rotted floorboards. Instinctively they joined hands, something necessary for the magic to work, at least on the level they were looking for. One of the women, dressed head to toe in green, her dark skin looking rich and magnificent against the different shades, started to chant, softly at first, rising with every second that passed. One by one each of them joined in, all in tune, sounding very much like an award winning choir by the end. As their song continued, a barely noticeable drumbeat started up on the metal roof above their heads. Lost in the words and rhythm of what they were doing, one by one the individuals opened themselves up, exposing their true selves, letting their magic and power be harnessed by the chant itself. Wisps of supernatural power in every different colour imaginable arced across the room, bouncing off walls, ricocheting off the ceiling, clashing with one another, exploding in tiny clouds of multicoloured madness. Drizzle turned to teeming rain, the thump of the drops hitting the roof sounding like a military beat, so loud now that it almost drowned out the chanting, which itself had reached fever pitch. Amongst those gathered, eyes rolled, extremities shook uncontrollably, heads flopped, madness reigned in their eyes, briefly anyway. By now the din had become almost deafening. How the surrounding townsfolk couldn't hear was yet another mystery, but magic had a way of doing its master's bidding, even on a subconscious level at times. Wisps turned to multilayered explosions, every possible combination of colours running riot inside the small shack, the roof now being battered from the torrential downpour on the outside, and the violence of the magic on the inside popped up and down nervously on the flimsy wooden supports that held it in place.
Hearts raced, ears burned, eyes were nearly overloaded by the sensation of bright, brilliant, bold colours. And then, almost as suddenly as it had all started... there was nothing. No noise, no colour, just the dull, white light of the bulb, casting long, thin shadows in the corners, barely showing up the treacherous holes in the floorboards. As the five of them returned to the here and now, each wiping sweat from across their faces, the woman who'd started it all spoke up.
"That should be enough to keep the rain flowing for weeks. We'd best leave this place and quickly. The Amazon is already high, and it won't take much for the flooding to start. We do not want to be anywhere near here when this gets out of hand. I suggest taking the first boat upriver out of here in the morning."
The other four all nodded in unison.
"Where do we go?" asked one of the men.
"We'll just head upriver, and away from here. Pucallpa might be our best bet, but that's at least a week away. Let's just get on the move. I'm sure any orders they have for us will reach us just like the last lot did."
As they boarded the well travelled boat, all of them thought back to the scruffy, dark skinned boy, wearing nothing but a tattered pair of shorts, if that's what they could be described as. Perhaps that's what they'd once been, but now looked like a gathering of holes, off on their family holidays. During one of their trips for supplies, the boy had approached them, and despite them all trying to shoo him away, he remained very persistent, claiming that they should follow him as he had something of great value for them. Sure that it was a scam, and knowing that many a foreigner was lured away to a rather untimely demise in this very manner, eventually the child did something that captured all of their attention. He uttered the word, "propositum," something they all knew to mean 'objective'. Needing no more convincing, they followed the boy to a secluded riverside about two miles out of town. There he recovered a hand written letter that he'd hidden beneath the roots of a huge overhanging tree. Gathered round, the group eagerly read their orders. They were to use their abilities to create as much mischief as they could up and down the waterway they were on. If lives were lost... so be it. After reading the letter, they all knew there were two immediate priorities. So one of the men retrieved his lighter from the side pocket of his dark blue backpack and immediately set fire to the paper, letting the charred remnants of it drift out over the meandering river, while the other four took care of the boy. There could be no witnesses. Now was not the time for any mistakes.
16
Cold As Steel
They watched, stony faced and cold hearted as one of their number was killed right before their eyes. The murder was not only unexpected, but something of a feat given the identity of his attacker, a dragon now slumped against the wall in the narrow corridor on the monitor they were watching in the control centre. He looked scrawny, weak... almost kind of new. But there was no mistaking the strength of will that he carried. Any enemy with that much endeavour and courage would be hard to take out, but take him out they would. Their instructions were to leave no being alive, and raze everything to the ground. As the shattered dragon on the screen crawled to his feet and limped back down the corridor, the two of them started to hatch their plan.
Deep within the barricaded store room, the rather awkward discussion had turned into a full on argument, the nurse with the conscience having finally had enough, telling the specialist medics, and the acerbic doctor whose idea it had been to hide away in the first place, exactly what she thought, in no uncertain terms. She figured it would cost her the job that she loved, but there were more important things at stake currently, and she knew there was a very real possibility of not making it through the next few hours alive. Most of the medics had come round to her way of thinking, wanting to go out into the facility and back up Steel in whatever way possible. It was only really the doctor in charge, a research scientist, and two of the other nurses, that were all for staying hidden.
"I really think we need to be going out and supporting our patient," pleaded one of the junior medics.
"Don't you understand?" argued one of the nurses. "It just isn't safe. How can it possibly be with all of those beings out there? There's no easy way to say it, but our patient is almost certainly lying dead in a corridor somewhere. We need to stay here until help arrives."
"Well said," stated the doctor in charge. "It's not what any of us wanted to hear, but she is almost certainly right, I'm afraid."
It was just then that the squabbling reignited, with everyone talking over each other, shouting, shoving, with things getting more than a little heated. It made her mad. It really did. Those words... 'Lying dead in a corridor.' Not one of them knew him like she did. He was a fighter, a winner, a dragon who would never quit. And now he needed them more than ever and here they were, fighting like love struck teenagers, while all the time cowering in fear. Enough was enough. It was time to act.
He ached all over. Worse still, his head was spinning like a forgotten coin in a tumble dryer. But, picking up the lethal sword, he soldiered on, carefully, afraid but glad to be alive, ready for whatever else life would throw at him today.