"ARE YOU KIDDING ME? CUT HIS LEG OFF?"
"I don't have time to explain everything, but it will be all right if you follow my instructions to the letter. There's no time to waste."
Richie shook her head, cursing under her breath.
"It'll be alright Rich. I trust him implicitly. You can too," urged Peter.
"Okay... I'll do it. But this had better work."
"It will, little one, it will," assured the healer, about to get back to work. "Just remember to cut off the correct one, and things will be fine." And with a wink and a smile, Yoyo's face turned blank once again, all his concentration focused on the wellbeing of his patient.
Richie turned to Peter.
"Well... that's reassuring. Make sure you cut the right one off."
All Peter could do was grin.
"Sounds like good advice to me," he chipped in.
Turning away, she handed Flash's body over to Peter, and blocking out the sounds of fighting all around her, the superstar lacrosse player wiped the dagger once again across the front of her t-shirt, why she didn't know... it wasn't as if it was sterilised. Kneeling down level with the wound, she sucked up yet more of the dagger's seemingly unlimited power. Gripping the hilt tight, before taking a calming breath, there was no way on earth she'd normally do this to one of her friends. But circumstances required her once again to do something totally and utterly against what she believed in, and so telling herself it was down to her and nobody else, she dragged the dagger across Flash's leg, just below the knee, scything through bone, muscle and cartilage all in one fell swoop. Landing with a mighty CLUNK, the bottom half of Flash's left leg dropped to the cold, marble floor without any sort of fuss. No blood, no mess, just a nice clean incision with the magic from the dagger sealing both sides.
"Ughhhhhh..." groaned the ex-Crimson Guard, still for the most part not with them at all.
Surprised that Flash hadn't made more noise... Peter knew he would, had somebody just cut off one of his limbs. There and then his job of holding Flash up straight was now made more difficult with him effectively only having one leg to stand on. Using all the strength he had, the young hockey player wondered just how long it would take Yoyo to weave his magic.
Eyeing the infested stump that only moments ago had been attached to one of her closest friends, Richie could still see the darkness within the gaping wound multiply. Eerily creepy, she wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Part of her wanted to kick it away, while another part wanted to destroy it entirely. Not sure if either option was a good idea... (what if she obliterated it and Yoyo needed it back?) she settled for keeping a close watch on it.
Things all around them were getting louder and closer, with Janice still using her precious partner, the weapon that resembled a frosty buzz saw, Fu-ts'ang, to carve a path for the group of young dragons. Only about twenty metres away now, it was plain to see they had all suffered numerous injuries, with two of their kind being dragged along the floor, bleeding profusely, to what they hoped would be relative safety.
Through the connection the two shared, Yoyo could sense the molecules within his friend's body start to return to normal now that the esoteric, dark magic had been removed from the equation. Keen to get the ex-Crimson Guard back into fighting shape, he knew with access to this much power and mana that virtually nothing was beyond his will. And so, without a moment's hesitation, he immersed himself in the supernatural and, using the blueprint from the magic he'd showered Flash with earlier, began to create another limb that he hoped would be an exact replica of the one they'd had to cut off. Igniting the magic one molecule at a time, it was a dizzying prospect and one that under normal circumstances, he wouldn't even have attempted to take on. But as well as enhancing everything magical within him, the powerful metal of the chains had also boosted his self confidence and belief. There was nothing he couldn't do or achieve, and Flash's little scratch was nothing more than a temporary inconvenience.
Hurried by a trio of wicked looking nagas, what was left of Yoyo's band of young dragons backed their way up against the wall, all the time making sure their injured were covered and protected.
"We need Yoyo right now!" screamed Wiz in Richie and Peter's direction.
"He's a little busy, but it shouldn't take long," replied the lacrosse playing dragon, trying to sound as calm and as reasonable as possible.
"They're hurt... really badly. He needs to heal them NOW!"
That was it. Richie had finally reached the end of her tether and despite the severity of the circumstances, was about to go off the reservation. Knowing what to look out for with his friend, Peter managed to step in just in time to defuse the situation.
"Why don't I take a look at your friends?" he suggested, while uh... Rich, perhaps you could help out with... THAT!"
As a group, they all looked around. Beyond the trio of nagas fighting furiously with the group of young dragons from Perth, five of the meanest looking dragons they'd ever seen had taken to the air and were currently approaching the group at speed. Trapped against the marble wall of the lower floor, as a group they were sitting ducks, something their leader, Richie, now realised. While it did offer them a modicum of cover, and it was the only part of the chamber to do just that, it hadn't occurred to her that a situation quite like this might arise. Silently cursing her stupidity, she leapt up and over Yoyo's charges, planting herself fully in front of them to face the oncoming aerial foes. Leaning back, almost as far as she could go without toppling over, she narrowly avoided having her throat cut by one of the nagas and his trusty shadowy sword. Disappointed to say the least, and now harbouring a thirst for vengeance, the petite lacrosse player stabbed the naga straight through the middle of its face, watching it die full of surprise. Before the beast's slack body hit the floor, it was back to the job at hand, the five dragons streaking in at top speed, almost a blur, even to her magical senses. Knowing that they would make run after run at them with a view to incinerating the group with bursts of their deadly flame, she could only think of one thing that would prevent all-out slaughter. Drawing on all the power her weapon possessed, Richie brought up her personal shield, letting it flicker into being all around her. Absorbing the magic into her entire being, she commanded the shield to expand. Much to her surprise... it did, covering the entire group in the process, as well as decapitating the remaining two nagas who'd been mid-attack as it sprang into life, Richie hadn't been sure of success at all. It had, if nothing else, bought them all a little more time. Smiling at the outrageousness of it all, the one problem it threw up concerned her greatly. The others... the group of King's Guards, were all outside the shield, and although slowly heading in this general direction, were still some way off. Tank was nowhere to be seen, while George, the dragon king, was right at this very moment dodging and ducking, rolling and weaving his way across the combat zone, heading directly for his best friend... FREDRIC! And then there was the dazzlingly bespoke naga that had come through the magical wormhole with Flash and the others. Assuming it was the naga king that had been previously mentioned, whoever he was, he was more than holding his own against dark dragon opponents, laying waste to nearly a dozen so far, and those were just the ones she'd witnessed. He'd need a safe haven, along with all the others. What she'd done was trap all of them here behind a shield, without any way to get out and help their allies. Oops.
Sprinting as fast as he could, the aching in his magically designed bones increased tenfold, almost forcing him to stop. Determinedly he ploughed on, knowing that only death itself would prevent him reaching the best friend he hadn't seen in decades. And while his spirit had been crushed by that wicked Manson dragon fellow, it was able to recover somewhat as he ran. Skipping around a small blast off to his left, he dipped out of the way as a string of electrically charged bolts came zipping past him. Sucking in another deep breath to fuel his falsehood of a body, George wondered where on earth the burning he could smell was coming from. Gracefully sliding to a halt directly in front of his friend, it was then he realised the source of the acrid smell. HIM! He was on fire, well... technically his clothes were on fire, but you know what I mean. Throwing himself to the cold, white floor, the current dragon king rolled over and over, all the time patting his arms and legs. After only a few seconds, the flames were out and so instead of standing, he knelt in front of Fredric, having to shout to be heard.