"My friend... it's so good to see you. I never gave up hope you know. I always thought we'd meet once again."
Nothing! The king's words had no effect at all on the motionless form of Fredric, whose head faced the ground, as a river's worth of tears trickled to the floor. Brushing aside the long and dirty matted hair, George reached in and put his hand gently beneath his friend's chin, slowly lifting his head up so that it was level with his.
"I know you're in there, and I know you're hurt. And I think I can guess why. But you need to snap out of it right now. We're in need of your extra special skill sets. I don't think we'll last much longer without you. Do you think you can help us?"
Peter's grandfather's inert form barely moved. If not for the soft, gentle breathing and the steady stream of tears, he might well have been mistaken for a larger than life statue.
Deflecting away a few powerful supernatural bursts heading his way with just the wave of his hand, George was still a force to be reckoned with, even without the ring, his magical companion for so long. Single-mindedly he fought off the blistering attacks that were converging on them both, his resolve determined to keep them safe. But as one part of his mind dedicated itself to doing this, another much smaller part wondered what he could do to shake his friend out of his shocked, trance-like state. If he didn't do something quick, then the rescue efforts of those that came to save him would all have been in vain.
"Well? Wyvern got your tongue?" ventured Tank into the thick, all encompassing darkness, somewhat fed up at not having had a reply yet.
"Well... what?" a much softer, sombre voice came back.
"You claim to be sentient, to be able to make informed decisions based on all the experience you've accumulated over the centuries..."
"I am sentient," beseeched the ring firmly, "and my experience makes me a better judge than almost anyone else on the planet."
"If that's so," replied Tank, "then tell me about Manson's group. Is it right that they've killed and maimed so many innocents... not just dragons, but humans as well? And what about their vision of the future, surely you must know about that. There won't be any room for the ordinary dragons that currently inhabit what's left of the domain. They'll be slaughtered by the thousands, which compared with what awaits the humans on the surface, is probably quite a good option. They'll be hunted for sport... doesn't that seem like a pleasant way to go?" Tank added sarcastically, his patience finally starting to run out with his magically enhanced captor.
"You don't know that's what'll happen."
"I DON'T KNOW?!" Tank screamed. "I DON'T KNOW?! I've been there, seen the pyres of dead dragon bodies set on fire, witnessed the sheer cruelty of his minions, and been a victim of what he has planned for every being on this planet. DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME I DON'T KNOW!"
Letting his words ring off into the distance, Tank's hands and legs shook with the rage he felt, his temper spilling over. Lacking clarity of thought, he only knew one thing: it was time to get out of here and back to his friends. This had been nothing more than a huge waste of his time. While the being controlling the ring might have power to wield, it certainly didn't have the right attitude, as far as he was concerned. Gathering his thoughts and any remaining spark of magic, the rugby playing dragon's mind turned to just how he might leave, hoping to hell he didn't have to fight.
With the young dragon Wiz watching over him, Peter placed his hands on both of her injured friends' bodies. To say he wasn't sure of what he was doing was something of an understatement. Of course he'd had rudimentary medical training, back at the Purbeck Peninsula nursery ring, but that was a long time ago and it had only covered the very basics, such as what to do in an emergency, something that in peacetime rarely presents itself to any dragon at all. And so here he was, two young dragons on the edge of life itself, ready to drop into the chasm of death, because he needed Yoyo to heal Flash to give them any sort of chance at turning the tide of the raging battle going on all about them.
Remembering what he'd been taught all those decades ago, the young hockey player did the most obvious thing he could... he flooded both of them with magic. Normally he'd struggle on this front, but his reserves were almost fully topped up because he hadn't been able to use any supernatural power over the last few days due to being constrained by those damn binders. And since the alea had broken him free, he'd used very little. In theory it should at least give them half a chance, as flooding them with magic should boost their immune systems and allow their own bodies to start repairing the devastating injuries they'd suffered. Both dragons moaned simultaneously, startling both Wiz and Peter.
"What have you done to them? She demanded.
"Nothing. I mean not nothing... no. I've flooded them with energy. It should help them heal."
"Is it? Is it helping them heal?"
And this was where it got tricky. He didn't know. How could he? After all he wasn't a dedicated healer like Yoyo. To reach even the most inexperienced level of healer took many, many decades. All he was doing was guessing. It was all a sham to buy Flash some time with Yoyo. To say he felt bad did no justice at all to the meaning of the word. About to 'fess up and take whatever he had coming to him from the concerned and spirited Wiz, it was then that Yoyo spoke through gritted teeth.
"It's okay Peter. You've done a good job showering them in your magic. But I can take over now."
Not wanting to... really not wanting to, because he was afraid of the answer, he just had to ask.
"What about Flash?"
Yoyo's face kind of grimaced.
"Don't worry, I've got him covered too. Boosted by the laminium in the chains around Flash's chest, I'm more than confident I can heal all three of them. Why don't you see if your friend Richie needs some help?"
Never having been more relieved, he left Wiz and Yoyo, heading over towards his friend who had created the most magnificent shield around them all. Glancing down at the dagger in her hand, he just hoped it held enough magical energy for her to power their defence indefinitely.
Juggling five balls in the air at once was the only thing Yoyo could compare with what he was doing. Just as he'd gotten the hang of regenerating a new lower leg for Flash, two of his happy gang had turned up with life threatening injuries, and there was just no way he couldn't attend to them immediately. But that was the beauty of the laminium chains... he didn't have to pick and choose. With so much magic and mana available to him, he could continue to heal all three of them at once. It wasn't easy mind you... far from it in fact. He'd had to compartmentalise his mind into three sections... one for each of his patients. In the first one, he continued with the leg; that was coming along nicely, even if he did say so himself. Next, he began to heal Trayrin, the more badly injured of the two. This was beyond difficult. Her internal organs had been severely damaged, so much so that there wasn't even an option to patch them up. They had to be fully repaired, here and now. And so that's what the second part of him was doing. Montague or Monty as he was known was next. Not as badly injured as Trayrin, he still had significant damage. A broken jaw, shattered kneecap, broken left arm and a perforated spleen. He probably wouldn't die from the damage, but his condition wouldn't allow him to be mobile or move in any way, shape or form, which wasn't ideal given their current situation.