All consuming darkness closed in around him. Not an unfamiliar situation, he'd found himself here before, on many an occasion. But not quite like this. Here and now he felt powerless... powerless to resist. A nagging pain from the lower part of his body somewhere relentlessly assaulted him, stopping him from focusing, preventing him from finding his magic and the almost limitless supply of power he could feel wrapped around his physical body. Locked inside his mind, he fought to break out and regain control. Time served no purpose here, he knew. Seconds, minutes or hours could be passing outside in the real world, and none of it would apply here. He was pretty sure it wasn't hours, but a part of him was still afraid it would all be over by the time he got back there, if such a thing were even possible. Bounding out of the way of the pure black that mirrored his every move, he'd taken to running away now, instead of his usual fighting back. In the past he'd fought off what he always supposed had been the pain tormenting his physical being. It had been hard, and he'd needed all his tricks and wits to do such a thing, but it had been possible, as he'd proved on a number of occasions. But this was somehow different, almost magnified in strength if he had to guess. And so continuing to evade by running up walls, jumping off ledges and barrel rolling beneath outstretched shadowy fingers, Flash pushed on, feeling his heart rate increase, ignoring the pounding in his ears that distracted his thinking. He knew he had to live up to his name, even though his very being only existed deep within his own mind, right at this very moment.
'Oh crap!' he thought, deflecting yet another multiple set of attacks on his young band of dragons. That wasn't what had caused his outburst. No! He'd just witnessed his young friend, the dragon whose life he'd saved far beneath Perth, Australia on that fateful day, get his leg sliced in two by some very curious magic, and land hard in a heap, barely moving at all. Feeling more than a little depleted of mana, Yoyo knew that he now faced a very difficult and very immediate choice: keep on supplementing the defence of his young dragon contingent to the detriment of Flash, or take the risk of saving Flash at the cost of his young charges. It was the toughest decision he'd ever faced, and over the course of his life he'd had to choose which dragons had lived and which had died on the operating tables of the battlefield. Pushing any doubts aside, he made his choice based solely on the bigger picture, and what would best give them the likely outcome of winning and surviving. Stepping out from his relatively sheltered position so that he could get a better view of his unconscious subject, he cleared his mind, letting it converge on one being and one being only. FLASH! As his consciousness reached the ex-Crimson Guard, it cast its keen, specialist eye across the whole of his body. When it reached the deep gash on his leg, it almost gasped, as if such a thing were possible. A matt black, tar-like substance had infiltrated the wound and was currently eating away at the surrounding flesh, muscle and bone. That wasn't the most worrying thing. Unlikely as it may have seemed, even to Yoyo's brilliantly unorthodox mind, the substance in question was replicating, and doing so at a particularly fast rate. The healer knew that if he didn't do something, and fast, then Flash's time on this plane of existence would surely be over. Looking at the prone form of his comrade lying below him, Yoyo locked on and prepared to use his remaining magic to expunge the evil that had permeated his friend's physical form.
A fraction of a second was all that it took for Yoyo to realise just how much of a mistake he'd made. There was no doubt that he'd chosen the right mantra, but the enormity of the task dwarfed what he was capable of doing with the amount of mana he had left. There just wasn't enough to give, and that now left him trapped. Try as he might, with all the knowledge available to him, he just couldn't wriggle free. Flash's death sentence had now just become his. But as his hope turned sour, his mind reflected on the last thing he'd seen before bringing forth his magic. Flash had been wearing the chains... laminium chains. That was it! The chains were the answer. But just how could he get his hands on the powerful metal... that was the question.
Crouched in the shadows of a hidden little alcove, Hook was still exceedingly thankful for the return to full health that Yoyo had provided, and was determined to do everything he could to keep his new found friend safe. Watching along the wall that provided them with some semblance of cover from part of the raging battle in that general direction, he was suddenly startled when a huge scaled hand grabbed him by the shoulder. Pulling away by spinning around abruptly, Tank's rugby playing teammate was surprised to find Yoyo standing there, eyes glazed over, sweat pouring off him, barely able to move.
"What's wrong?" yelled Hook, over the noise of the skirmish.
"I need Flash brought over here."
"I can't hear you. You'll have to speak up."
Hardly able to move his scaly lips, Yoyo put all he could into his words.
"You have to get Flash over here so that I can touch those chains. If you don't, we're both dead."
Yoyo's eyes closed as the sweat continued to pour, and despite Hook's best efforts, he could get no reaction out of the dragon healer. Swallowing hard, the young rugby playing human hero, who'd already proved himself a dozen times over in his brief stint underground, glanced across to where Flash's body lay some twenty or so metres away. The distance wasn't much on a rugby or hockey pitch, but right here, right now, with magic raining down hell, psychopathic prehistoric monsters running riot, and the sound of swords clashing ringing through the air, it was enough to turn most beings' legs to jelly... but not his. Using the passion, strength of purpose and courage he usually only exerted playing his sport, Hook set off at a dead run towards the unconscious looking Flash. Peppered by explosive fragments from the marble flooring all around him taking a direct magical hit half way across, it didn't deter the rugby strongman. Reaching his target, he grabbed Flash's arms and started to pull him along the floor. Blessed with huge upper body strength, this task should have been nothing more than a tame training ground test. But he hadn't figured in the weight of the chains. Not knowing what they were made of, the one thing he could attest to was that they were unbelievably heavy. He had no idea how Flash could even stand with them on... no doubt due to some sort of magic that he couldn't begin to understand. Pulling him as far as he could, he stopped for a breather, sweat dripping off every part of his body. Looking up, he realised he'd only managed to pull the young dragon about a tenth of the way. Horror and panic threatened to take over. It would take an age at this rate, all the time exposed, leaving them vulnerable to attack. What he needed was some help, but where to find it amongst everything going on was well beyond him. So without further ado, he got on with it, dragging the dead-weight body another two metres, and then another. But with each metre, the chaos and the fighting around them intensified. It was far from plain sailing.
Siphoning off some of the magic from the laminium dagger that was surely only on loan to her, Richie used the additional power to boost her telepathic range and, opening her mind in a calm and controlled manner (something quite new to the rebellious young lacrosse player) shouted as loud as she could.
"Light sided individuals... fall back to the wall nearest the staircase. There we will regroup and coordinate our attacks with a view to taking the fight to them. As quickly as you can... your commander, Richie Rump."
'Boy has she got some chops,' thought Peter, his friend's every word reverberating around inside his head. Wondering how they would all know to obey the command, he assumed most of the guards here would probably never have heard of her, let alone trust her enough with their lives mid-battle. But a quick momentary look made him think again. Yoyo's group of young dragons who were fighting furiously with magic and conventional means, occasionally helped by their two invisible friends, had heard the call and were slowly shuffling in the direction of the rendezvous. The circle of ably equipped King's Guards continued fighting valiantly on, outnumbered and overwhelmed but currently holding their own, mainly due to Amelia Battlehard's command of the situation. Hovering above them, putting out fires, both figuratively and literally, the captain of the guard glanced over in their direction. Richie pointed with her thumbs, indicating the direction that they all should be travelling in. It was something of a standoff, with the captain of the guard reluctant to trust anyone she didn't know. But given the situation, and the fact that quite probably they'd all be dead if not for her unexpected intervention, she knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. So, one excruciating footstep at a time, their fighting force moved back in the right direction, all the time trying not to trip over the blood soaked cadavers that littered the battlefield.