Becoming a Dragon (22 page)

Jenna shrugged. "She's an idiot; every now and then there'll be limits to how much of her I can put up with. Best to get Arthur used to the idea of disappointing his sister when he needs to."

Crystal shook her head. "Well don't come crying to me when it backfires, which it will. Come on, we're the last. Let's go."

Crystal began her transformation, the fiery red scales spreading from her eyes across her face, then her neck, shoulders and the whole of her body. She loved the cool feeling of the scales forming over her skin, and the gradual heightening of her senses as the transformation took place. She marvelled at her hands as they were moulded into powerful, deadly-looking clawed feet, which she tapped on the ground as she began to follow after her cousin, who had already headed towards the large doors.

Welcome
, John said calmly, his voice sounding in everyone's head. How did he do that with such control, Crystal asked herself. She still had limited control over projecting her thoughts, and had to concentrate hard to stop her daydreams being broadcast to her classmates.

John looked directly at her, as if he had read her thoughts.
Don't concentrate too hard, just focus on who you want to speak to.

John took off effortlessly, circling above them while he continued to address them.
You've all made good progress over the last six weeks. Your take offs and landings have improved quickly; you have all a good understanding of gliding, but it's time to move things on a little. Time to work on your manoeuvrability…

"You have to admit, he knows what he's doing," Seth pointed out as they walked away from the amphitheatre.

"Fine, he can fly," Jenna replied stubbornly. "I still don't want to be taught by a boy who is younger than you."

"Is he?" Daisy asked, suddenly interested in the conversation. "When's his birthday?"

Jenna shrugged. "No idea. But Seth's the oldest in the class. John must be younger than him."

"We should ask him when his birthday is," Daisy replied. "He has no family here; it must be terrible to have no one to celebrate with."

"Daisy, no one cares," Jenna told her, speaking as you would do to a small child. "So, are any of you going to help me get rid of him?"

Seth shook his head. "He's harmless. Let him stay. If they could get us a better teacher they would have done so already. I definitely prefer having John to having no teacher. Just drop it, Jenna."

"Typical," Jenna replied. "Crystal, surely you can't enjoy having him as a teacher?"

Crystal shrugged. "I'm not keen on having him as a teacher, but I'm not going to help you. It would look mean-spirited after he saved my father."

"And Arthur won't help you either," Daisy told her defiantly. "I think he's a good teacher."

Arthur looked away, reluctant to get involved. Jenna glared at Daisy. "Fine. Just remember this conversation when you realise how little he's taught us when we get to the end of the year."

"Yes, Jenna," Daisy replied dismissively. "Arthur, shall we go and find Gerald? Perhaps we could spend the evening with him and his friends?"

Arthur nodded. "Sure, Daisy. Whatever you like."

Daisy made a face at Jenna before walking away with Arthur.

Seth frowned, looking at Jenna. "Sorry, did I miss something or did little Daisy just get the better of you, twice?"

"Shut up, Seth," she snapped. "I'm leaving. I'll see you two later." With that, she stormed off, her nose in the air.

"Come in, Perak," General Zygar said impatiently. "We have a lot to discuss."

Perak entered the war room—his first time in this grand meeting place. There were many faces around the large table that he didn't recognise, almost all senior to him, but if he was intimidated he didn't show it. Zygar liked that about Perak. In many ways he considered him superior to his seven generals, who were gathered around the room, and Zygar thought he might make a worthy successor when the time came for him to pass on the mantle. But that would be difficult. Although he had no plans for ending his time as supreme leader of the army any time soon, he needed to appoint a successor now. At all times, there needed to be someone appointed to take over as Supreme Leader if something happened to him, but unfortunately his chosen successor had recently passed away, and there were no obvious choices for a replacement. Unfortunately, Perak was far too junior—only recently promoted to a level three below these generals who had held these positions for several years. Two of whom had been generals before Zygar had taken command.

"Shall we continue the proceedings?" Colonel Kanesh asked. By tradition, these meetings were chaired by a Colonel, who held the post for a year. Kanesh was from the Army of the Interior, which was essentially a police force, there to keep order in the cities and manage the politicians. Normally, this which would have doomed him to being despised by all of the other officers, but he was a likeable chap who managed the nearly impossible task of holding good relations with all of the Generals in the room. It was a skill that Zygar wished Perak could learn; he would then be the perfect leader, but instead he seemed to revel in his unpopularity. At the end of his term Zygar had a good mind to promote Kanesh to General and retire General Garet, who had never inspired much confidence in his abilities or determination to carry out his duties. It would be good to move Kanesh from the interior; he had far too much talent to waste on that career dead-end and the army of the south east, which held the responsibility for guarding the border with the Browns, would be a good position for Kanesh.

"Of course," Zygar replied. "What is next on the agenda?" he asked for the benefit of the three late entrants: Wing Commander Perak, Division Commander Tarek and Colonel Moric, who had not been included for the regular reports that were the first items on the agenda.

"Next is the development of the special units. Wing Commander Perak is to give an update on his Stealth troops, Colonel Moric on the Advance troops, and Tarek on the Destroyer troops. I believe Colonel Moric is to go first."

"Yes, Colonel Moric," Zygar said meaningfully. "I would very much like to hear about your recent raid on Furnace. How did it go?"

Colonel Moric coughed. "As you all know, the raid was never intended to result in significant numbers of enemy fatalities, or bring back any prisoners, or—"

"Yes, we know what it wasn't meant to achieve, Colonel, but we would like to know what it did achieve. Tell us, how many Red Dragons did we kill?"

Moric looked down at his notes briefly. "Um, two, sir."

"Two Red Dragons killed? Is that all?"

Moric nodded, still not looking up. "Confirmed kills, sir. There may have been more."

There were muffled sniggers heard throughout the room. "And have they sent retaliatory forces yet? Have they been lured into throwing away their troops in an attempt to avenge their great losses?"

Moric shook his head, starting to go red with embarrassment.

Zygar nodded, enjoying tormenting the Colonel. "This was a mission led by the great Kessick, was it not?"

Colonel Moric nodded. "Yes, sir, it was. He did return safely." Perak smirked, clearly amused by his rival's failure.

General Zygar breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank our luck, I am so relieved. How could we survive without that great hero?"

Polite laughs rang through the room, but were silenced by Zygar's icy glare.

"Failure, Moric, is not acceptable. This was a test of your abilities. Of course we expected a low number of kills and only a few of your troops to return, but it was also meant to be a slap in the face of the Red Dragons. Something to provoke them into a big counter raid. Something we could use to gauge their strength, and of course to do some real damage to their forces. I doubt they will bother after that pathetic attempt. Time for you to think through your tactics again. You were warned that you would need to use more dragons for an attack on Furnace, but you insisted that they would be unnecessary. You shall have one more chance to demonstrate what you can achieve, Moric."

"Of course, General," Moric replied.

Zygar ignored him and turned to face Perak. "Commander Perak, I know how much you love Commander Kessick. Your lack of respect for that fool is legendary. But next time someone is delivering a message of failure to me you had better learn to control your expression. Now, give me your update. I hear you executed some of your troops."

Perak nodded. "I sacrificed some, yes. This method of combat is distasteful to many of the troops, and they found it hard to follow orders. I had to remind them of the consequences of disobedience. Remarkably, they have all made excellent progress since then, and I'm pleased to say that I expect the training course to be completed early, and with the men in excellent form."

"Good," General Zygar commented. "Of course, I know all of this already. I've read your reports, and of course, I have my own sources of information, so am happy that you are making the progress you claim you are. However, this isn't what I'm interested in at the moment. I want to know about your other program."

Perak hesitated, glancing around. "General, you don't mean…"

"Of course I do," Zygar replied irritably. "Look where you are, Perak. This isn't just any meeting. Everyone here has been given access to your reports, so you can speak freely. What detailed information can you give us?"

Perak straightened himself up. "Nothing new, of course. I haven't met him since my last report. I can't initiate contact; we only meet at scheduled times."

Zygar nodded impatiently. "Yes, yes, we know that. When is your next meeting scheduled?"

"In a couple of weeks. It's not an exact date, so I leave someone to wait for him."

"And what will he tell you when you next meet him?"

Perak frowned. "As you will have read in my last report, he's established himself in the capital, and is developing relationships with a number of influential people. He will be bringing us a detailed map of the country, and one of the capital."

Zygar nodded. "Good, but what about details of city defences? Structural information of key buildings? Will he bring that information?"

Perak shook his head. "Such information is restricted. He can get it, but it would alert people to his presence, so I ordered him to wait until we really need it."

Zygar looked at Moric. "Considering the failure of Kessick to bring any useful information, now is the time to request that information. How long will it take to get an answer?"

"I couldn't say for sure. I've only just had a meeting with him, so I won't meet him for another two weeks, and then for this sort of information, I would allow at least six weeks for him to find it and get back to me."

"That's two months!" said General Xanot, head of the army of the far west, the area bordering the Rhino Dragons and the Red Dragon's southern principality. "Sounds unreasonably long to me."

Xanot had been a General for almost twenty years and had what was probably the sharpest mind in the room, yet Perak appeared unintimidated by the General. "I understand how it might appear unreasonably long if someone had no knowledge of what was involved. My contact lives in Furnace, and he cannot fly to the border too regularly, as it would be suspicious. He has been developed over a very long period so we're not going to jeopardise his position now because we're in a rush."

"Enough!" Zygar interrupted. "Commander, I am aware of the value of this individual, after all it was I who developed him. I expect you to manage the situation in a way that protects our spy and gives us the information we need when we need it. We can't wait for two months. Do I make myself clear?"

Perak nodded. "Of course, General; I will think of something."

"I thought you might. Now, just because we're asking for quick results doesn't excuse inaccurate or incomplete information. Everything hinges on the quality of the information that he can provide."

Perak nodded. "Of course, General. He will understand what is needed."

"He had better," Zygar replied. "You are to be held accountable for the information that he provides. I like your approach to handling failure in your troops, Perak. That was an inspired move, and I have noted the rapid improvement in the performance of the remaining troops, something that a number of people in this room thought wouldn't be possible. As a reward for your success, you are hereby promoted to Division Commander; you will still remain with your current Wing until your training programme concludes, but you will be assigned a division thereafter. But do not forget: I am no more forgiving of failure than you. Fail me, and I may just follow your example. Dismissed!"

Mark ran into the house, covered in mud and laughing loudly only to find his parents in the kitchen talking to a smartly dressed gentleman he didn't recognise. Even if he wasn't covered in mud he would have assumed he was trouble.

"I didn't do it, Dad, whatever he says I did, it wasn't me."

His parents laughed, which unnerved him even more. Why hadn't they commented on the fact that he was barely recognizable as their son, or noticed the trail of muddy footprints through the house?

"You're not in trouble, Mark," his father told him gently. "This gentleman just wants to speak to your brother. Can you go and fetch him?"

"And perhaps remove some of that mud, dear," his mother said, smiling, but the fierce look in her eyes told him that she was angry.

Mark ran outside the house and saw his brother struggling up the hill, panting heavily and even muddier than he was.

"I won!" Mark said proudly. "I've been here for ages."

His brother shrugged. "Wasn't trying anyway," he lied. "What did mum say when she saw you?"

"Not much. But you're in trouble. There's a man here to see you."

"Me? Why does he want to see me?"

"I don't know, but he looks very serious. I think you're in big trouble."

His brother seemed worried. "What shall I do? Should I run?"

Mark thought for a while. "Sorry, they asked me to bring you. I'd have to stop you."

"Please, Mark. I'll do anything. Don't let him get me."

"Hmmm, anything?"

"Yes, anything."

"Alright, you have to tell mum and dad that it was your fault we're so muddy."

"No, that's not fair! You were the one who fell in!"

"So did you!"

"You pulled me in when I was trying to help you out!"

"Doesn't matter whose fault it is, that's the deal."

"Ah, please, Mark. Anything else."

"No, that's the deal."

"Alright, but don't stop me from running."

"Sure. Hide behind the house; they won't look there."

His brother ran around the side of the house to the back and bumped into his father almost straight away.

"And where are you going?" his father asked, looking a little amused.

"It was his fault; he pulled me into the pond!"

Mark sighed. "We both just fell in, Dad. It was nobody's fault."

To his surprise, his father just raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "Bring me that bucket and fill it with water, Mark." He pointed to a bucket behind him, and he ran and filled it with water, struggling to carry it.

"It's too heavy, Dad," he complained.

His father lifted it easily and took it over to his brother. "Ah, it's not heavy at all. Come here."

"But I'm only seven," Mark replied. "It's too heavy for me."

"And not likely to reach eight if you come in the house looking that. Right, can you still lift you brother up? Or is he too heavy now he's five?"

"Easy!" Mark boasted, giving his brother a bear hug and lifting him from the ground. He dropped him immediately when he found himself drenched in cold water from the bucket, which his father had just emptied over the pair of them.

"Dad! That was freezing!" Mark shouted angrily.

"You could have warned us," his little brother complained.

"Another bucket should do it, unless you want your mother to see you like that. Better dripping wet than covered in mud."

The two little boys stayed silent as their father drenched them in water again before sending them to the back of the house. He emerged with their mother and the smartly dressed gentleman.

"Ah, you've found your brother, Mark," the gentleman said. "You can leave if you wish."

"Stay, Mark, please!" His brother pleaded, still dripping wet and shivering slightly.

The gentleman laughed. "There's nothing to be afraid of, young man. But your brother can stay if you like. I've come here to speak to your parents about you."

"You've been selected to join a special class in the capital," his father told him proudly. "Starting after the summer holidays."

"Do I have to go? Can't I stay here with you?" He looked up pitifully at his parents, still dripping wet.

"Don't be silly. We'll all be going. You won't be on your own, son. Well, your brothers won't be in the class with you, but we'll live in the same city."

"You should be proud and honoured," the gentlemen told him. "You've been selected from a long list of candidates. I expect many would like to go in your place."

The dirty-faced little boy didn't look convinced, so his father crouched down and put his hands on his shoulders. "Trust me, son. This will be the start of an adventure. You won't regret this, I promise you."

Two years later, a nine-year-old Mark stood outside the dining room door with his two younger brothers, straining to understand what was being said in the room.

"There were thirty children in his class at the beginning of this program. Surely there must be someone other than our son?" It was their father's voice, and he sounded upset.

"I'm sorry, sir, but no, he's the only choice. We chose the ten best students last year, so as you know he's been a potential candidate for a while. All of them were chosen based on being the right age, and on their father's flying ability, as you know, as the best indication of what their potential might be. Unfortunately, that doesn't always go hand in hand with other abilities, which is why we were reduced to ten after one year. Your son is by far the most capable of the bunch, and we wouldn't feel comfortable sending anyone else. You did know he might be chosen when he was selected for this program."

"But you understand our situation, surely? It is no longer the same. My wife is ill. She'll never be able to visit him."

"Yes, I am familiar with these special circumstances, and you do have my sympathy, madam. But we don't have any other options. If we did we wouldn't ask this of you."

They heard their mother speak, her voice quiet and strained. "Could he come back and visit?"

"No, I'm afraid that won't be possible. It's too much of a risk."

"How long do we have?" his father asked.

"At least a couple of years, sir. There will be lots of preparation required. Both you and your son are going to require a lot of training."

"Will my husband be able to come back to visit?"

"That may be possible, but I can't promise anything. I'm sorry to have to give you this information, but it's better for you to know now."

"Yes, I suppose it is," they heard their father say in a resigned voice. "I'm not sure how he'll take this, or his brothers. They won't see each other for a long time."

"I'm sure he will adjust. Boys are very resilient at his age. He still has two years to spend with his brothers. Let him make the most of that."

The boys heard footsteps approaching the door. "Quick, they're coming. Hide!" Mark commanded his two brothers.  The three of them scurried towards the stairs and hid underneath them, just in time to watch their parents escort the gentlemen to the front door. They waited till all the adults were outside before they spoke.

"What does that mean?" Philip, their youngest brother asked.

Mark shook his head. "It means that in two years, we'll have to say goodbye to John. He'll be leaving us."

Philip's eyes opened wide. "They're going to take away John!"

Mark nodded. "And we won't be able to see him for years. He's going to be a spy."

"Where will you go?" Philip asked.

"To the Red Dragon Kingdom," John replied quietly. "I will come back though."

Mark smiled at his brother and ruffled his hair. "If you don't, we'll come and get you. Won't we, Philip?"

"Yeah!" Philip agreed.

"They say that when you're a spy, sometimes you begin to forget who you really are," Mark said.

"Who says?" John asked suspiciously.

"Everyone," Mark replied. "You have to pretend that you're one of them for so long that you forget you're not one of them. You won't do that, will you, John?"

"Never!" John said. "I know who I am!"

"Yeah!" Philip said. "You're a Golden Dragon!"