Remaining stoic and completely motionless, surrounded by not only nagas, but dark dragons, their evil looking bastard swords only a hair's breadth away from being drawn, Amelia Battlehard slowed her breathing and reached out telepathically as far as she dared. It was a risk, she knew, especially given the way one of her dragons had been dispatched, but she felt there was no other alternative. Her life up until now had been all about duty, and even with the threat of death hanging over her, it still was. And so she was determined to go out on a high, fighting alongside those she was responsible for. If nothing else, they would do some damage to the enemy, and just maybe do some good for their monarch. As one, a tiny glowing triangle sprang to life in the minds of her fighting force. Outside this tight knit group, it would mean very little to anyone, only ever applicable to a young dragonling in his or her first year in the nursery ring, but to the well trained males and females under her command it meant only one thing. GET READY!
Despite feeling as broken as he could ever remember, that little spark of rebellion and defiance remained. And on seeing Peter's friend Tank and of all things... two humans dragged before him, it ignited something within him, causing him to throw caution to the winds, to once again stand up and be counted, all thoughts of the ring long since forgotten.
"ENOUGH!" declared the king, much to the shock of pretty much everyone there. "I've surrendered myself to you. No one else here needs to die. Let the others go, or I promise you I'll make things difficult."
Manson swivelled around on the spot, both his eyebrows wriggling to a different beat, unable to subdue an almost manic twitch that had developed just beneath his left eye.
Thinking this was it for their king, Amelia Battlehard readied the signal to attack, almost glad the time had come. But it was never going to be quite that easy.
"HAAAAHAAAAHAAAAAAAA," laughed Manson, doubling over in mirth, his change in attitude catching everyone off guard.
George stood puzzled, unable to believe what he was seeing.
For Peter, Tim, Tank, Janice and Hook, this only really confirmed what they'd all been suspecting, that Manson really was a deranged psychopath, probably with more than one personality fighting over the controls to his brain. It was a sight to behold, horrific beyond belief. What was more worrying though was the look of utter adoration sweeping across his queen's face. Madness like this could surely only exist in the depths of hell.
Standing up straight, tears of laughter streaming down both cheeks, Manson shook his head, getting rid of the last few chuckles.
"What on earth makes you think you're in any position to dictate anything?" he chided the king. "Do you really think your pitiful force could put up any sort of resistance against us? Or perhaps you're under the illusion that someone somewhere is coming to rescue you. I assure you they're not. The dragon realm is mine, alright maybe not quite all of it, but it won't be long before those small pockets of resistance are wiped off the face of the planet. In another twenty-four hours it will all be done. And then, we can do as we please. And let me assure you... WE WILL!"
Standing there in two minds, the king pondered which course of action he should take. One screamed to FIGHT! Use the magic of the ring if that were still at all possible, and go absolutely berserk, no matter what the consequences. The other cautioned reason, to wait and see what would happen, to try and negotiate. Both choices seemed downright catastrophic, with the king finding it impossible to choose between them.
As Manson turned away from the monarch, back towards Tank, Janice and Hook, one of the nagas behind them slithered forward, brandishing Fu-ts'ang, a cold blue mist lighting up the air around it.
"The girl... she was using this in the attack."
"Interesting," sneered Manson, limping closer to the increasingly afraid Janice, who was, by now, shivering in terror.
"Where did you get this, GIRL?" he fumed, his mood once again having turned itself on its head.
Janice said nothing, her eyes remaining focused firmly on the floor.
Mere metres away, Peter rallied against the chains containing his magic, binding him in place, much to Earth's amusement.
Manson stepped in close, grabbed Janice by the hair, forcing her to cry out in pain, and pulled her head up to his.
Peter gave everything he had. EVERYTHING! Still it wasn't enough.
"WHERE DID YOU GET IT?!" he bellowed right into her face.
Much as he hated to see Janice suffering like this, Tank recognised this as his one opportunity, and with unflinching resolve, he took it. Abruptly he shook off the two nagas holding him by the shoulders and, almost faster than the eye could see, grasped Manson's arm, squeezing his biceps with all his might, forcing the dark monster to relinquish his grip on Janice's hair, whilst at the same time screaming,
"Leave her alone!"
As Janice dropped to the floor, there was only ever going to be one outcome. Manson whirled furiously, catching Tank full on in the chest with a punch imbued with almost as much magical power as he had. A sickening 'CRUNCH' saw the young rugby playing dragon scythe back through the air in the direction of the watching king. Mid-flight, two things happened, both using magic, but not the dragon kind.
When the three friends had first taken their places above ground in Salisbridge, having mastered maintaining their human forms, Tank, like the other two, had fully immersed himself in as much topside culture as he could. Briefly, the best description of him would have been 'nerd'. Quite by chance he'd stumbled into a tiny little comic book store called the 'Floppy Tongue' on one of the main routes out of the city, and had fallen completely in love with tales of superheroes and their arch enemies. Comics and books were purchased, alongside action figures and other trinkets, all over a few weeks. Before he knew it, he was attending much bigger events, much further away. At one such event about thirty miles away in Bournemouth, his fascination for the human way of life took an about turn. Whilst in the foyer of the building, queuing to get in, he was approached by a well dressed man in a top hat, brandishing a deck of cards. Asked to pick one from the fan-like assortment in front of him, he did just that, watched eagerly by everyone in front and behind in the snaking line. To his utter astonishment, moments later, the magician, for that's what he was, revealed to him exactly what card he held, even though Tank was sure he hadn't seen it. Gasps of amazement and sharp intakes of breath, before a loud round of applause, were the order of the day. In that exact instant, all thoughts of comics, novels and action figures were forgotten for the youngster Even with his dragon powers, Tank still couldn't figure out how the trick had been done. And that sent his mind racing, well... that and the applause and recognition the artist had received from those around him.
Many books and YouTube videos later, Tank found himself performing in front of Peter and Richie at almost every opportunity, much to the friends' amusement. Whilst he had eventually grown out of card tricks and sleight of hand, the skills that he'd gained remained with him at the back of his mind at all times. What, you're probably thinking, does this have to do with his current dilemma? Everything!
Flying backwards through the air, having taken the fiercest of punches before leaving the ground, Tank had altered his body shape to change his trajectory to get him to where he needed to be. Halfway to his intended destination, he twisted one hundred and eighty degrees, making the movement look natural in an effort to conceal what he was really up to. With the king looming large, and the young rugby playing dragon all but a blur, in one swift move, using all the sleight of hand he'd gained during his time impressing his friends, he reached down and grabbed the forgery of the king's ring that Gee Tee had given him, from the tiny little pocket on the side of one of his walking boots. Bracing himself for impact, he hoped the king would forgive him for what he was about to do.