22
Regrets 'R' Us
As the full length cloak flapped against the heel of his boot, he decided that now was the time to pull the hood fully up, concealing everything but the tips of his footwear. Darting out of the darkened alleyway, he silently crossed the deserted walkway, ducking into the shadows beneath the archway of the beautifully crafted bridge built from the surrounding rock, all the while looking out for a tail (not his... but someone following him). Under any other circumstances this would be a pointless exercise, as undoubtedly the dragons in the immediate vicinity would sense all the other beings around them, including him. This was where the cloak came in, and not just any cloak... Ancient in design, its fibres were imbued with laminium and a very obscure mantra that allowed the power to be redirected and controlled in a very specific way. The cloak was a... CLOAK! Used to mask a user's very presence, the laminium blocked any telepathic search reaching out in its direction. Physically he could, of course, still be seen; masking that would have been all but impossible. No, this cloak shrouded the user's sense of being, so the only way for its wearer to be discovered, was for them to be physically seen. No dragon, or any other entity, would be able to sense the user once the cloak was fully shrouding them. Armed with this knowledge, its current wearer leapt into the air, found the smallest of finger holds in the rock and scaled it until he reached the bridge above. Once there, he crawled unseen into the deepest shadow, checking for any and all pursuers... there were none. His mission required stealth, secrecy and a dogged determination. It was of the utmost importance.
Twenty minutes later, he breathed a sigh of relief. While he hadn't anywhere near reached his target, he had traversed what he considered the busiest area, the one in which he was most likely to be discovered. Leaning against the wall of an alcove between two dragon houses that looked as though they'd seen better days, he paused to catch his breath. Both walls had crumbled away and from the appearance of tiny flakes of colour, almost microscopic in size, these houses had once been brightly painted... many decades ago! It was the same story the dragon kingdom over, he thought. Much like the humans on the surface, dragons now seemed to have little regard for their surroundings and those of their neighbours. Once, long ago, it was possible to walk down streets and streets of colourfully decorated, immaculate dragon houses.
'Not now though,' he mused. Just as on the surface, things had changed, here more than in most parts of the clandestine dragon world. Times were tougher now, even for dragons. Much of it, he thought, rested with the current king. Would a new king change things for the better? Quite a lot of him thought the answer to that was YES! Soft, padding footsteps jolted him out of his reverie. Instinctively he flattened himself against the dark wall, just as a dragon wearing a flamboyant hip cloak ambled past. His wandering mind had nearly cost him dear. Silently cursing his lapse and doubling his focus, he set off for his intended target. The sooner he got there, the sooner he just might get some answers to the many questions that had been bugging him for some time.
Nearly an hour later he had his destination in sight. Once again he was concealed by shadows, this time from the furthest recesses of the roof of a small dragon dwelling. His focus, to be sure, was not what it should have been. So many things were going on, and here he was thinking how sad it was that the dragons living below him, and elsewhere in this particular part of London, lived in comparative destitution. Things were far worse than he'd feared and despite knowing that it wasn't really his job to do something about it, he vowed there and then that he would in fact put things right... and not at some far flung point in the future, but very, very soon!
With his head poking just over the edge of the roof, he surveyed the street before him, strategically planning how to reach his target unseen. An elderly male dragon limped along carrying a basket of washing down the garden path of a small dragon house two doors along from his destination.
'He doesn't look a threat... but you never know,' he thought. Once off the roof he would be out of the dragon's sight, but he had to cross a distance of nearly one hundred yards, he estimated, to get to the entrance unseen. A familiar feeling tickled his brain. Instantly he hugged the rooftop, just as two middle aged dragons wandered by below, engaged in casual chitchat about the next round of laminium ball matches. Again, he cursed. While the cloak concealed his very essence brilliantly, the downside of this was the mantra and the laminium in the fibres that in turn hindered his ability to sense other dragons. He felt almost... naked: much like Superman would feel without his powers, or a Jedi Knight without the Force. Steadying himself, he knew he was almost there, after three hours of skulking roof to roof, shadow to shadow. In mere seconds he'd know if all his efforts had been worthwhile.
As quiet as a mouse, he raised his head above the parapet and looked around in every direction. Apart from the elderly dragon now pegging out his washing, there appeared to be no one else around. Sensing it was now or never, he waited until the dragon had his back to him, and as soon as that happened... he pounced. Mirroring a huge graceful cat, he stretched out, bounded three steps, and hurled himself spectacularly off the crumbling roof he'd been hiding on. Mid leap, he threw his weight off to his right, finding himself spinning precariously. With the ground speeding up towards him, he tucked his head between his legs and threw everything he could into rolling left. Hitting the pathway hard, he rolled instantly, his shoulder taking the brunt of the landing. Ignoring the blistering pain from the impact, he rolled three more times before standing and sprinting across to the doorway that he was interested in. Standing against the old door in question, he closed his eyes and, with an iron will, commanded the energy required to stave off the pain in his shoulder. In the blink of an eye the pain had dissipated and he turned his attention back to the door.
Gently he turned the squeaky metal handle and slipped inside. Cool air flooded over him as the familiar sight of bookshelf after bookshelf greeted him. How long had it been...? He tried hard to think. At first he thought it decades, but on reflection he realised it must have been well over a century since he'd last graced this truly magnificent shop. And a lot of it looked as though it hadn't been cleaned in all that time. Strolling softly through the maze of bookcases, careful not to disturb the piles of dusty tomes that littered the floor, he finally found himself at the very front of the shop.
'Oh how this brings back memories,' he thought to himself.
A harsh growl from somewhere below the counter nearly startled him back into his natural form.
"Most customers have the common courtesy to show their identities when they enter this shop. You'd do well to take the hint, and the quicker the better if you know what's good for you."
Gee Tee's square spectacles popped up from below the counter, followed by the rest of his head and a ferocious snarl that would have seen almost any dragon proud, and certainly belied his age. Just then the workshop door opened as Tank flew round the corner, chest puffed out, magic crackling from his fingertips, ready to defend his friend and mentor. Standing side by side, Tank and Gee Tee stared intently at their unexpected hooded visitor, as the silence ratcheted up the tension in the room. Deep within the master mantra maker's mind, he was sifting through a list of offensive mantras that could be used as a last resort, while Tank on the other hand was wondering just how long was a reasonable amount of time before it was polite to hurl yourself at a potential enemy, when that particular thought was rendered redundant. Freckled hands, with immaculate nails and 'that ring' swept up and gently pulled down the hood to reveal... THE KING!