'BOOM!' Tank hit the king full on in the chest, knocking the monarch to the hard stone floor, taking the wind right out of him, much to the amusement of Manson's hangers on. Having landed fully on top of George, Tank slowly untangled himself and rose gingerly to his feet, having already exchanged the fake ring for the real one on the king's finger, in the melee, hoping desperately that the monarch wouldn't give the game away. Deliberately losing his balance and falling painfully back to the floor on his arse, Tank secreted the real ring back in the small pocket of his shoe, in a sleight of hand even the best magicians in the world would be proud of, before being dragged upright by the two nagas that had previously been restraining him, who'd slithered over to his position next to the king.
With a grunt and a groan, George crawled back to his feet, eyes locked on Peter's friend, the master mantra maker's partner. Despite the unbelievable speed and precision with which it had been done, he knew what had happened and, in his mind, commended the young dragon for his bravery and cunning.
Still some way away from the action, even using her dragon abilities she couldn't see quite what had happened. But something had... something important if she was any judge. It was almost as if her friend had deliberately got himself thrown into the king. That just sounded stupid, she was sure. But that's what it had looked like. Why? That's what she asked herself, but no obvious reason presented itself. Logic would dictate it was to pass on some information, but she was certain nothing had been said. Perhaps they'd communicated telepathically, but she was sure their captors would have been on the lookout for that. It was odd, of that she was sure. Going back to flexing her muscles, and keeping alert, Richie felt sure that the moment of truth was fast approaching.
Giving the naga clutching Fu-ts'ang a nod, Manson ordered him to keep hold of it, knowing that now was not the time for a detailed inspection of the outlandish blade. Slipping back behind some of his colleagues, said naga marvelled at the sheer power contained within the weapon he was holding. Bathing in the cold radiance that it gave off, deep within his mind he coveted the awesome beast slayer for his own personal use.
Earth's surface. New Delhi, India.
It was virtually the same for nearly all twenty or so hospitals situated in and around New Delhi. A steady trickle of patients over the previous eleven days had stretched the infrastructure almost to breaking point. Cases of eye irritation, inflammation of the lungs, chest pains, breathing difficulties and asthma attacks had risen to an all time high, with patients lying two to a bed and, in some cases, stretched out on the floor in the corridors. It was bedlam on an unprecedented scale. Accident and emergency departments were working twenty four hours a day, with extra doctors and nurses utterly exhausted, though committed to doing their very best for their patients, but still they couldn't get to grips with all the symptoms caused by the noxious smog cloud that hovered over the city, simply refusing to go away.
Today, however, things had ramped up to a totally different level. People from across the region had been presenting themselves all morning, coughing, wheezing, rubbing their bloodshot eyes, clutching at their chests, all deeply distressed. About mid-morning, individuals started showing up with extra indications of illness, as well as those already mentioned. On top of the familiar smog symptoms, people now complained of nausea, vomiting, diarrhoea, a high fever, dehydration and a couple of cases were actually foaming at the mouth. As you can imagine, this changed things a great deal. Government emergency contingencies were rushed into place as parts of the different hospitals were quarantined off, with infectious disease specialists attending as many sites as their limited manpower allowed them to in such a short space of time. As if all of this wasn't bad enough, anonymous leaks to national newspapers spread panic like wildfire, with families and individuals alike running for the hills, or in most cases driving. Every single road leading out of the city was at a standstill, as cars full of people rushed to get out into the countryside. In some cases whole families made up of several generations walked in the pitch black, alongside the mile after mile of congestion, sucking in the poisonous petrol and diesel fumes, which understandably put them at more risk of becoming ill and spreading the airborne toxin to the outlying areas, something that supplemented the diabolical plan even more.
31
Hoodwinked
Lumbering breathlessly across the renowned bridge constructed purely out of magic by the naga contingent a short while earlier, an aged, primordial, dark shape, seemingly unable to take flight, straight out of history, hushed every other being in the king's private residence. Those few that didn't recognise him were cowed by the menace and power radiating off him in waves.
Very little frightened the king, after all he'd been there, done it... seen everything. But the sight of the being in his prehistoric form, that had tried to overthrow the kingdom all that time ago, terrified him right to his very core.
Battered, bruised, bleeding and yet to recover from Manson's brief interrogation of her, Janice was in a sorry state, suffering from as much pain as she'd ever known in her entire life. On catching a glimpse of the monster that laboured their way though, all her worries were trumped by something far more nightmarish.
Like the young bar worker right beside him, Hook had taken a beating and then some, but his injuries were far more severe. Left arm hanging limply by his side, clearly broken in more than one place, the pain feeding into his brain from that part of his body was agonising. Legs torn open and bleeding profusely made him look as though he'd been mauled by a pack of dogs. That was nothing compared with his head. Thick, dark red blood oozed from gaping wounds at the back and above both eyes, each of which could barely be seen, so horrendous was the purple and blue swelling. All of this was set off by a nose that was more mashed than broken, and what few teeth remained hung on loosely at unusual angles. A mess, he looked as though he could barely stand, wobbling uncontrollably every now and then. But just like his human comrade, everything was put firmly in perspective with the arrival of the ferocious looking beast that was now nearly upon them.
Earth's breath still tickling his ear, Peter's gaze flickered all over the place, barely able to believe what he was seeing. Just the sight of her broken and battered body caused his heart to swell, a vast array of emotions threatening to consume him. JANICE! OH JANICE! What the hell was she doing here? He'd thought he'd lost her, thought that she'd disappeared out of his life forever. But here she was, battle hardened by the look of things, standing alongside Tank and... HOOK, another human of all things, here in one of the dragon domain's most sacred places. Holding on to the love he felt for the young woman before him, he glanced over at the king, hoping for some kind of reassurance, anything that might make him think they'd be all right. Simply put though, absolute terror was the last thing he'd expected to see etched across the warrior monarch's face. Up until that point, a tiny part of him thought this was all a feint, a double bluff, and that the king was trying to hoodwink Manson and his cohorts. There and then, the hope inside him fizzled out, leaving him feeling helpless, powerless and full of regret. It had all gone so wrong, and now not only were the ones he loved about to pay the price, but the rest of the planet as well. In an emotionally charged delirium, momentarily his mind found itself back on the Astroturf on that cold November night, terrified and frightened, a stone's throw from death's door. Through the pain and the anguish he'd had a chance to finish off his bloodthirsty tormentor. And after short lived joy at thinking he'd done just that, the stark realisation of failure hit him only moments before the ice cold snowflakes pummelled his compromised falsehood of a body. If only he'd done it then. It would have ended. It would have been over.