17
Biting Back
Where dragon domain magic was concerned, they were the most knowledgeable in Manson's entire force. Made up of academics, priests, librarians and archaeologists, the group of eight had been almost exactly mirroring the nagas who'd spent so long trying to break into the magical creature containment area in the basement of the building, only on a different level entirely, in more ways than one. Theirs, one floor up, was a much more important assignment, in terms of both difficulty in gaining access and in what lay beyond the sealed doors. They were Manson's most trusted advisors, or so they thought. Their task? To find a way into the council chamber and purloin all of the artefacts and items in there. Ever since the first alarms had been raised in the building, complex magical shields, hexes, spells and mantras had aligned themselves in the protection of that particular room. Gaining access had been one of Manson's chief objectives on taking the building, and he was growing increasingly frustrated as each hour passed. Constant reports of their progress, or lack of it, had been relayed regularly. They didn't need to see him to get a sense of his dissatisfaction. It was plain and clear in the communications they'd received. Doubling their efforts, no stone, magical or otherwise, was left unturned.
And so it was that the archaeologist, a particularly crotchety dragon called Ned Hardtoignite, after spending over two hours with his head buried in a very dusty and withered old tome, and having disappeared off for twenty minutes or so, approached the others at the grand old doors to the impenetrable room.
"I think I may have something," he announced.
"Really?" quipped a few of the others together.
"Yes really."
"Do tell."
Taking a breath, while at the same time organising all the information he'd discovered inside his head, the others looked on, waiting impatiently. He began.
"As we know, the power here is intrinsically linked to the consciousness within the king's ring... as far as we can tell, anyway. It's a good bet that the safeguards on this door are in some way connected. I think I've found a way to fool the door into thinking we have the ring."
From the looks on their faces, he knew he had their complete and undivided attention. He just hoped he was right.
"So what's the plan?" asked one of the priests inquisitively.
"Legend has it," explained Hardtoignite, "that tens of thousands of years ago, an envoy of the dragon king at the time was betrayed by the leaders of the lands he was trying to bring together. On the pretence of an alliance, the envoy, on the instructions of the king, was ordered to the land in question, that we now call Scandinavia but was then known as Ahrensburg. The leader of this cold and desolate territory was renowned for his hatred of the bipeds of his land, and for just how brutally he hunted and tortured them for sport. Not only that but the dragons he ruled lived in poverty and constant fear. It was hoped that by bringing Ahrensburg into what was rapidly becoming a growing coalition of dragon states, all under one supposed banner, that these traits, amongst other distasteful practices, could be outlawed and everyone could benefit from a much more cohesive and stable planet. It was all a ruse, however. The Ahrensburg leader had no desire to align himself with anyone, let alone dragons he considered weak and submissive. So when the envoy, a brave, battle hardened dragon called For'son Flail arrived, he was greeted in the usual way. All the diplomatic courtesies were extended, with a huge feast laid on in his honour. A fabulous time was had by all. By now you can probably guess where this is going. Each and every diplomat in the group of visiting dragons was poisoned, with For'son forced to watch as his defenceless retinue were slaughtered in front of him. Vowing retribution whilst trying every form of magic he knew, he was tortured for weeks, before eventually succumbing to the same deadly poison. This one event started a war that would last over twenty years, one of the deadliest in the planet's history. Some two decades later, what was left of For'son's body was repatriated, on the orders of the king himself."
"That's all very interesting," exclaimed one of the librarians, "but what the hell has it got to do with getting us into the council chamber?"
"Patience my friend, patience. I'm coming on to that."
"I do hope so. As someone who's spent nine decades working in a library, you can be sure I've had my fill of tall tales."
Ignoring the librarian, Hardtoignite continued.
"It turns out that the king and For'son had a much deeper relationship than anyone first knew. They had both fought alongside each other in an earlier time and had maintained that friendship throughout the ages. Distraught at the loss of his friend, it's rumoured, and it's only a rumour, that the king, in tribute to his friend, had an expensive, intricately crafted ring made to honour him."
"You're telling us the ring that the king had made is the one on the current monarch's finger."
"It would appear so."
"So exactly how on earth does that help us?"
"When the king had the ring made, he made sure the crafting dragons included some of For'son himself."
All listening intently, the rest of the group inhaled simultaneously.
"Not just any bit of For'son either. Supposedly his... heart!"
"Nooooo," the group voiced as one. "How is that even possible?"
"Whether from the poison, the torture or from For'son's own magic, the heart inside his recovered corpse had crystallised completely. On the king's instructions, the crafters took part of that, shaped it, and now it adorns the ring that sits on our current king's finger."
Total and utter silence enveloped them. It was nothing short of a revelation, if indeed it was true.
"I still don't understand how this helps us."
From behind his back, the dragon produced something covered in a white, cotton cloth, about the length of a man's arm, and proceeded to unwrap it as the rest of the group eagerly watched. Moments later, Hardtoignite revealed what was inside. It was a model of a dragon standing up, wings spread, teeth and talons bared. Incredibly intricate, the quality of the work was majestic, some of the best any of them had ever seen. But still the group were perplexed, something that showed across their faces. Before they had a chance to ask, Hardtoignite resumed.
"Crafting the king's ring took a number of dragons nearly ten months in all, working around the clock each and every day. It was a full time job, with no days off and all of them sharing the same accommodation. But they were the best of the best and exceptionally professional, so the hardship didn't bother them in the slightest. There were, however, times when it was only possible for one or two dragons to be working on the ring itself. So to keep themselves amused, distracted, relaxed, call it what you will, the dragons used their combined skills and took turns to create a model in what little spare time was available to them. A model of the dragon in question... For'son. It was, in their eyes, a tribute to a brave and daring dragon and a chance to practise and develop their skills. After the ring was created and presented to the king, much fuss was made over the crafters, and rightly so. Their work was of the highest order and their services were now hugely in demand. From what little I can make out, the model," he said lifting up the representation he held in his hands, "was discarded and forgotten. Sometime after, it was recovered, and although not really recognised for the part in history it represented, it has ever since been sitting in the relics and artefacts section of the Council's storage wing, two floors above where we are now standing."
Considering carefully what Hardtoignite had said, none of them had ever heard this story. Perhaps that was the idea.
"So just how does that model get us through the door?"