Once again, thanks to all who reviewed! Here's chapter three!
Chapter 3: Escapes, Excuses and the Emergence
Artha glared at Word's back as he worked with his monitors and gears. He wriggled against the trapping gear, and again it proved worthless. So he let his arms and legs hang limp. Word seemed oblivious to the fact that he had his arch rival's son in his own son's body hanging awkwardly on his citadel's wall. Artha moved his right foot, or rather, he moved Moordryd's right foot. It was the only part he was free to move. He started to kick it against the wall. The more he did it, the harder and louder he hit. The thuds echoed across the chamber.
Word appeared not to notice. Artha wondered who would tire of it sooner. Word or him. Luckily Word turned around before Moordryd's foot got bruised.
"Refrain from that pounding. For your sake, you don't want to spoil my good mood." Word said, quite calmly, save for the first word which he had barked harshly. His fingers tightened on the gear he was fiddling with. Normally he worked on his latest inventions in his high-tech lab, which held sophisticated machinery. But now he wanted to keep an eye on Artha Penn. People had this annoying tendency to escape when you weren't watching.
"Good mood, huh? You seem pretty confident." Artha said for the sake of conversation. Word's citadel was much too quiet and confining.
Word turned his head to briefly look at his prisoner. He smiled faintly before turning back to his work. "Oh, yes. My son will find out the Dragon Booster's identity. Don't you worry about that."
"And then he'll come back here, you'll switch us, tie me up again and destroy the Dragon Booster? It'll never work."
"I suppose you can give me a reason for that? It isn't wise to depend on hopeless fantasies."
"Look who's talking." At that Word swirled around angrily. Artha smiled as he achieved his goal for the moment: he was irritating Word. Word, as if he read Artha's mind, softened his features as the moment of rage passed. He shouldn't let Penn get to him, after all, his words were meaningless and empty. Word pushed back the temptation to have the last laugh, but this was no time to act childish. Putting down his gear, he reached up with his human hand, and pressed a button on one of the monitors. The screen changed from one showing the entrance to his citadel to one showing the outside of Penn Stables.
"Tell me, Artha Penn," he said, flexing his claws, "where were you before you arrived in my citadel?"
Artha glared heatedly at his back. "Do you really think I'll tell you?" Word turned to look at his him.
"Why, Artha Penn, you're not as dim-witted as you come off to be." Word smiled wickedly at Artha. "No matter. It is unimportant. My wraith dragons will simply have to search a bit longer before they find you, or should I say, find my son. I do dearly wish to watch your friends tell him the secret."
He picked up a controller from his desk, and two wraith dragons materialized from thin air as he pressed the buttons. They had been waiting in the shadows of the citadel, near the wall furthest from Artha. They strode dangerously into the light. One noticed him, and uttered a long screech back at him, stretching it's long, black claws. The other nipped at the first in coiled energy. The first forgot about Artha, and screamed at the second. Word smiled.
"My, but aren't they getting restless? Time to let them stretch their legs." Word said smoothly. "Follow my son and watch him," Word spoke to the two dragons. They stopped their scuffling and looked at Word with possessed eyes. They shrieked in understanding and thundered off.
Artha watched them leave in moderate surprise. The wraiths dragons were getting more intelligent. "You should be more careful, Paynn. Upgrade the mind control gear too much, and they'll become independent. They'll turn on you." Artha wasn't sure whether this would be better than what they were doing now.
Word looked at him, his face devoid of emotion. "I understand what I deal with here. Keep your simple notions to yourself and wait for the end. Moordryd will return shortly. If he doesn't screw up again." Word turned around quite dramatically and changed two monitors to show what the small cameras implanted on the wraith dragons saw. Apparently the wraith dragons were still in Word's citadel, running around corners and down corridors to the exit.
"My friends won't tell him anything." Artha said defiantly. Word smirked at the monitors and gave a small chuckle at Penn's foolishness. "They'll be able to see through his disguise, you'll see."
"My, my, Artha Penn, don't you put too much trust in your pathetic friends."
"I'm not the only one who's putting too much trust in someone."
"So you agree? How humbling of you." Word said in his smooth voice. Scales, Artha thought. Score one for the evil overlord, Word thought and chuckled. "But then again, perhaps I am too." Word just hoped Moordryd could keep his temper in check. He focused his attention on the monitors, calmly flicking through the many cameras he had in order to find Artha's body.
"You don't put too much trust in Moordryd, do you?" Artha inquired. It couldn't hurt anything to understand Word and Moordryd's relationship with each other. He had already seen a fair amount of it, and it didn't seem too promising.
Word paused from his hunt and glanced back at this hostage. "No. It is foolish to place trust in anyone. Least of all, him. He's failed me too many times for that." As if sensing he'd told too much, Word abruptly concentrated his attention on the screens again.
Artha knew some of that was his fault, for preventing Moordryd from doing his father's evil schemes. He didn't regret stopping him, far from it. Anyway, it was Moordryd's fault if he couldn't beat him.
Artha sighed in impatient frustration. The whole thing did look pretty hopeless at the moment. All Moordryd had to do was ask some well thought out questions, and they would be answered. Or his friends could make an ill fated comment about his secret identity. Artha's heart sank. If Moordryd grew curious to what was hanging around his neck and put it into the gauntlet…would it work? Would he transform into the Dragon Booster? What if that happened in a busy street? Perhaps he would instantly recognize the gold gauntlet around his wrist. Perhaps it was already too late. His face took on a worried expression as he realized how hopeless it was indeed. Moordryd could be on his way back here right now, and his friends would wonder why he suddenly ran away after their conversation about the Dragon Booster. They would question his sudden laugh and choice of direction as he hurried away. He would return, and they would be switched again. Artha would be bound and suddenly…. He hated to think of what would happen. Word didn't even have to lay a trap for the unsuspecting Booster to walk into, he had him bound in his citadel. A doomed prisoner. He swallowed back the lump in his throat. He glanced at Word. He had to get out now, or perish.
Word, meanwhile, was humming softly to himself in an odd tune Artha couldn't identify. The synthetic lights from the screen played across his face as he gazed into each one, searching. Oh, how he did want to see them tell his son of the Dragon Booster. The wraith dragons, he was happy to notice, were dashing down streets. They wove in and out of traffic gracefully, never coming into contact with anything. They slipped by as what they were. Wraiths.
He hummed his tune again from the beginning. It was an old melody, forgotten by most, haunting in its sinister tone. It had survived from the ancient days of war and was the song of the pure black draconium dragons. Dragons he would once again create and command. Once again, very soon, this tune would haunt the ears of all. He chuckled softly as he hummed, which nearly destroyed the tune he was humming.
Artha frowned as Word continued his humming. How could he get out if Word wouldn't leave? He wished he would at least stop humming that song. The tune wasn't bad, but Word was probably the world's worst hummer. He had to think of something quick, something sly and coy to get Word to leave the room.
"Uh…Word Paynn!" He called out. Word stopped his channel surfing and straightened his back as he heard his son's voice.
"Yes?"
"Um…I think I heard something…out in the halls…" Artha stammered.
"Out in the halls?"
"Yes. In the halls."
"A noise? What kind?" Word inquired slickly, stroking his chin with his claws.
"A big noise. You'd better go check it out." Artha stated matter-of-factly.
"Oh, I will." Word said, and turned to a monitor, and flipped through the various cameras in his citadel. "Hmm, I see nothing. From what direction did this phantom noise come from?" He said, smiling.
Scales, Artha thought. But it was just as well. Even if he got Word to leave the room, he had no way to get free. Word chuckled. "My, my Artha Penn, you do seem a but desperate, don't you? I can understand…"
"I bet you can." Artha muttered under his breath. Luckily for him, Word hadn't heard. Artha's mind worked frantically. Time was running out. He probably didn't have a chance to stop Moordryd from finding out. His only hope was to stop him before he reached his father. He glanced worriedly at Word. But how to get loose?
Suddenly, the room shook. The monitors flickered and the various objects Word kept on his table quivered. The entire citadel shuddered. It lasted no more than five seconds, and was soon over. Word and his captive both stood still, captured in shock. Word was the first to recover.
"What? What was that?"
"You mean you don't know either? Shocking." Artha said after a Word's sudden question shook him from his astonishment. Word spared a heated glare for Artha before turning to his screens.
"That shouldn't have happened. How…?" Artha barely heard Word mumble to himself. Word looked at his screens in near disgust. He turned to Artha with his face set in a frustrated glare. Artha smiled back and tried to look as innocent and as harmless as he could. Word scowled and looked the trapping gear over. When he was satisfied that Artha couldn't escape, he hurried out of the room. Artha stared in astonishment. That was easy. Now to get free….
But what made Word so worried? Why did he leave the room so quickly? What made the entire building shake? The city was built sturdily, not even a high level quake could shake it's foundations. But if it wasn't an earthquake, what was it? No wonder Word was worried. Something big must have happened right outside.
Artha kicked his foot against the wall and wriggled his whole body. He didn't move an inch. Word could be back anytime now. This could be his only chance. He yelled in defeat. Moordryd voice bounced back to him, and he wished he could cover his ears to lessen the sound of that voice. How could he get out?
"Moordryd?" Cain's voice called out.
"Cain?" Artha said surprised. He turned his head and looked for him. Finally, he spotted Cain peeking out from behind a huge door.
"Moordryd, what are you doing?" Cain said, and then looked at his best friend. It took a moment for Artha to realize he was silently asking whether Word Paynn was in the building. Artha shook his head and Cain came in and jogged over. "What happened?"
Artha smiled. Good old Cain. He paused before answering, "Cain get me down." He said in what he hoped was a Moordryd like manner. Cain quickly set to work freeing his boss.
"Is it safe?" Lance whispered to Parm and Kitt as they approached. Was it safe? Moordryd wondered. Had they been hiding from something? Well, then that would explain why they had been in the back of the gear room. Maybe the stable brat's life wasn't exceedingly dull.
"Don't worry. Your dad's busy in the back." Kitt said as she absently pointed with her finger in the general direction in which she spoke of.
"Yes, if we slip away now, we can be at the track before he knows we're gone." Parm said, tapping his watch. Moordryd's spirits fell. They were hiding from Artha's old man? Great. Some excitement.
"Let's sneak out very, very quietly." Lance said, and tiptoed to the door. Kitt rolled her eyes at his behavior. "Come on." She beckoned to Artha. "He should stay there for a while, but we can't be sure he will."
"Right." Moordryd said. "We, uh, sure don't want to get caught."
Kitt looked at him. "Not if you feel like cleaning out stables instead of practicing for the race." She grinned and followed Lance. Moordryd stopped in his tracks. Clean out the stables? Moordryd Paynn did not clean stables. But if Artha's father caught them and told them to…. Normally he didn't listen to adults unless he wanted to, but Artha Penn would. And refusing a direct order from Penn's father was not something he thought Penn would do. For the sake of keeping his disguise secret, he would have to…. No. He would not clean stables!
"Go, quicker!" He said impatiently. Parm nodded and cautiously peeked out of the gear room, searching for Connor. "Now?" Moordryd said louder.
"Wait, he's…he's coming! This way!" Parm said.
"What?" Moordryd nearly shouted. This couldn't happen, not to him.
"Umm, out the back door!" Lance said in sudden inspiration. Moordryd's hope leaped. If they could sneak out the back door…
"What? Lance this is a stable. There is no back door." Parm said, dashing Moordryd's hope.
"Well there should be." Lance huffed in reply. Moordryd stared at him.
"Well, distract him then!" Moordryd retorted to Parm.
"Oh, right. I'll distract him while you guys sneak out." Lance nodded eagerly at Parm's plan. He was having fun. Moordryd rolled his eyes as Parm stated the obvious plan.
"Magna Draconis, then do it!" Perhaps he had said that a bit too harsh, for Parm looked at him oddly, then muttered a, "fine," and walked out. Kitt and Lance gaped at him.
"I didn't know you could develop stablephobia so soon." Kitt joked. Moordryd glared at her. Lance giggled.
"Do you want to clean stables?" Moordryd turned to him. Lance shook his head, his smile never leaving his grinning face. Moordryd sighed. Kitt moved to the door and peeked out. She held up a hand to stop them.
"Not yet…" She said. Lance cradled the two VIDD-games in his arms.
"Do you want to play me again?" He asked his older brother. Moordryd looked down on his expecting face.
"Uh…" What would Penn do? He asked himself. "Sure. Of course? After we get out of here."
"Yay!" Lance shouted, "I bet you can't…"
"Nice going, Lance!" Kitt whispered fiercely back. She stepped back as Connor entered, followed closely by Parm. "Oh, uh, look, I found them." She said and gestured to Lance and Artha.
"Thank you Kitt." Connor said knowingly. "Would you and Parm care to stay…"
"Uh, no!" They both said in unison. "I uh, have to work on the gear and fix it up…" Parm said and quickly left, even though he was already in the gear room.
"And, I have to…watch him!" She nodded and pointed after Parm.
"Well if you really must go…"
"I must." She said and fled after Parm. Moordryd stared disapprovingly after them.
"Some friends he has." Moordryd muttered.
"What?" Lance questioned and looked up at him. Moordryd realized he had talked out loud. He opened his mouth to say something, but Artha's father interrupted.
"Right then. The sooner you get started the sooner you can leave."
"But why? Artha has to race! He has to practice!" Lance protested. He glanced up at his older brother who apparently hadn't realized he was being addressed.
Lance nudged him rather harshly before he could get him to say, "yes! I have to practice to win the races! I'm not doing too well on the track, and evidently, I really, really need to practice. I mean really need to practice…father. So, I'll go now, and practice, because I need too, I mean really need…"
"Not so fast," Connor said, amused. Lance just looked up at his brother questioningly. "Just clean out one stable each, and then you can go practice. That's all I ask." He walked up to his eldest son and lay a hand on his shoulder. Moordryd looked at the hand, startled. But after it didn't turn into a vice-like grip as he expected, Connor continued. "You're racing fine, Artha. Better than I had hoped."
"Uh, thanks?" That was all Moordryd could say at the moment in his state of near shock. Connor merely smiled proudly at his son.
"Come now, you can finish the stables quickly if you work together. Just clean out the last two and you can be on your way." Moordryd opened his mouth for a violent protest, but forced it closed. It wouldn't do to have Artha Penn yell at his father over such a menial task.
Lance sighed and slowly and dejectedly walked to the door. "Fine, but I get first choice!" He said suddenly and broke into a run. Moordryd was at first confused, but then realized Lance would choose the cleanest of the two stables. If he absolutely had to clean one, he wasn't about to do the dirtiest.
"Get back here, min…er…kid!" He yelled and dashed off after him. Connor chuckled.
At first, just out of the gear room, Moordryd almost stumbled. Personally, he blamed Artha's body and Artha's shorter legs. He grumbled to himself about having to get used to the body. Nontheless, he easily past Lance, then slowed down. He had no idea where the stables were. Lance blew past him, running as fast as his legs would carry him. Moordryd trotted after him. He followed him to two adjacent stables. Lance peeked into both before nearly diving into one.
Moordryd winced. Lance had chosen the cleanliest of the two by far. He walked up to him and stood over him threateningly. Lance saw his frown and grinned. "Better get to work, Artha." He picked up a shovel which was leaning on the wall near the entrance.
"I think you're in the wrong stable." Moordryd said menacingly. Lance paused and looked at him.
His face turned from one of childish victory to one of anger. "You're not doing this again. I was here first, so I'm cleaning this one." He picked up the shovel, slung it over his shoulder and walked further into the stable. As he past him, Moordryd grabbed the end of the shovel, halting him. He looked into Lance's defiant eyes.
"I still think you ought to do the other stable."
"Artha!" Lance began to whine. "That one's messier."
"I know."
"It'll take longer."
"I know."
"But it stinks more!"
"I know." Moordryd said bluntly. He had caught a whiff of that room.
"You're older, you should do the harder one!"
"And you're younger, you…need more experience." Lance stamped his small foot in frustration.
"But I was here first!"
"And I'm here second." The two boys glared at each other. That is, until Lance had an idea.
"Are you really going to make me do the dirtier stable?" He asked sadly, and looked up at his older brother with puppy eyes. Moordryd groaned. Not this.
"Yes," he said gruffly, "you're doing…" He paused as Lance continued staring at him, his eyes growing bigger. "You're doing…you're doing…this stable." He gave in. Lance's face brightened.
"You're the best big brother ever, you know that? 'Cause you are." Lance looked at him in appreciation.
"I know." Moordryd grumbled and walked to the other stable. Lance's grin widened. This was the first time he had used this technique on Artha. Not only was Moordryd apparently immune to it, so was his brother. He had a new secret weapon. Perhaps no one was immune to it! He should try it on his father next. He chuckled mischievously.
Moordryd stood in the entrance to the stable and wrinkled his nose at the rancid smell. He couldn't believe he was doing this. He heard footsteps and turned around. Parm and Kitt walked up.
"Having fun?" Kitt mused as she approached. Then she suddenly offered a disapproving grunt at the smell and moved back a couple steps. Parm did the same.
"Now that you're here…" Moordryd started.
"Not a chance, stable boy." Kitt shook her head. "This is your job, not ours."
Parm whipped out his amazing calculator gadget and fiddled around with the various buttons. "But, by my calculations, I have devised a quicker way to…"
"I don't need your 'calculations.'" Moordryd said as he made air quotes. "You would be a bigger help if you grabbed an extra shovel and helped me shovel all this mess. Now."
"I see someone is a little on the bossy side today." Parm said and made no move to aid his friend. Not that Moordryd really expected him too. His only regret was that he couldn't make the egghead help. That was something he knew Penn wouldn't do. Insult or force his friends to do something.
"Is he ever!" Lance piped up from the next stable. He poked his head out. "I think he's afraid of work!"
"I am not."
"Are too. Stable boy." Lance shot back.
"Don't call me that, stable brat!"
"Whiny yellow bellied newt!" Lance called back. Moordryd muttered a rebuke under his breath. "What? I didn't catch that." Lance said, putting a hand to his ear.
Since Moordryd knew Artha would never say anything that vulgar, especially to his little brother, he had to make do. "Little dork." He muttered. Lance smirked at the uncreative rebuke.
"Stable brat, stable boy!" He called back, hoping it would have the same effect as before.
"Enough!" Moordryd yelled and threw down the shovel. Lance recoiled at the outburst.
"Calm down, Artha." Kitt said, as she and Parm were also shocked by the sudden display of anger. Moordryd nearly shook with rage. He forced himself to calm down. It would be easier to discover the Dragon Booster's identity if he didn't have Penn's friends cross with him.
"I'm…sorry." He said through gritted teeth. He hoped that would do. Parm and Kitt looked at each other. Artha sure was acting strange.
Moordryd groaned when he noticed he had thrown down the shovel into the dragon's nasty business. He picked it up carefully with his thumb and forefinger, being very careful not to touch the soiled parts. He looked at the others. "Would you care to bring me another shovel?" Parm nodded in agreement and turned to fetch another.
Suddenly, the entirety of Penn Stables shook. The ground beneath their feet vibrated as Lance clung to the doorframe of the stable. Moordryd lost his tentative grip on the shovel, and it slipped to hit him on the head. Seconds later, the shaking stopped. They all stood still.
"What…what in the Magna Draconis was that?" Parm said shakily.
"You mean you don't know?" Lance asked worriedly. Parm shook his head.
"What can make the entire city shake like that? Not an earthquake or anything else I can think of." Parm said nervously.
"Well, whatever it was, its stopped. And everything looks okay." Kitt tried to reassure them. They both had to agree at that.
"I think I've…" They all turned to Artha's voice, and at once forgot the disturbing event and broke into fits of giggles.
"Nice look, Artha." Lance sniggered. Kitt and Parm were laughing too hard to say anything. Moordryd didn't see what was so funny. He tried wiping the mess the shovel had left behind on his head with his arm, but only succeeding in smearing it about more. The others doubled over with laughter at his actions.
"Would…would you like me to bring you…a towel along with…with the shovel?" Parm could barely get his sentence out as he cackled louder than ever. Moordryd sighed. This wasn't his day….
In the wastelands beneath Dragon City, where the ancient statues and formations lay forgotten, where the land was untouched by humans for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years, came an event that would shake history. In the middle of an unusually large clearing, rested an unnatural rise in the ground. The small hill abruptly shook, sending dust and rocks shooting into the air as it broke apart. The entire lost city shook. A large dome of mag energy began to rise, shielding the emergence of the ancient mag warrior.
He had made around himself a cocoon of mag energy, that protected him and preserved him since the original dragon-human war. Now he had returned.
As the debris settled, the purple glow of the dome intensified. Whips of energy radiated from it, heedlessly striking nearby objects. Deth had arrived.
