Meandering through the crowd like water through a flood plain, in the distance she spotted her exit from the market, a route even more densely packed with people than those she'd already traversed. Of course it would be busy, given that it was the most direct route to the Jama Masjid, India's largest mosque, able to seat almost twenty-five thousand people.
'A staggering achievement really,' she thought to herself. 'These humans, when they put their minds to it, can achieve almost anything. It's a shame that it has to come to such a crushing end for them. Anyhow, that's not really any of my business. All I want is for the king to be free, and for our race to be back in the chilly waters that we've been used to for all these years. The fate of these bipeds is not my concern,' she continued to tell herself. 'We resided on this planet long before them, and will still be here long after they cease to exist, something that may well be coming much sooner than they think.'
Packed in tight like a tin of sardines, she shuffled forward whenever the crowd would allow it, coarse grains of dark yellow sand brushing in and out of her toes as she did so. Between the shoulders of two men dressed in dark brown clothing, she just caught a glimpse of one of the Jama Masjid's two forty foot high minarets dominating the skyline directly in front of her, and although her near perfect memory recalled exactly where she was heading, seeing the ancient mosque offered up a small crumb of comfort, knowing that she was on the right track.
It took her ten more minutes to reach her goal, which was crazy given that it was just two hundred yards away, but the crowds really were that bad. With most of the people continuing on to the famed mosque, she slipped off left down a narrow thoroughfare, seeking out the darkness and plentiful shadows it provided. Physically concealed, she let her mind wander out in front of her, checking for anything unusual, or anyone that had no real reason to be there. It was clear, for now at least. Following the twisted path, after a few moments she reached a deserted little courtyard at the end of a cobbled road. Parked in front of her was an old dark red Citroen estate, just as she'd been assured it would be. With no time to lose, she raced around to the right rear of the car, and felt about on top of the tyre. Sure enough, her slim, pale hand found just what she was looking for... two sets of keys. Grabbing them tightly, she stood up and quickly unlocked the car. Sliding behind the wheel, she stuck one of the keys in the ignition. Fearful of something going wrong, she turned the key and, to her mild surprise, the old vehicle chugged into life first try. Relieved, she wasted no time. Jumping out, she locked the driver's door before checking the rest of the car was secure. Hastily making her way to the back of the vehicle where its exhaust was spewing out toxic clouds of diesel fumes, with one hand firmly holding her scarf in place over her face, she withdrew one of the vials from her belt with the other. Loosening the rubber stopper of the vial, she leant down and shoved the poison as far as she dared up the vehicle's exhaust pipe, knowing that its volatile mixture would ever so slowly leak out and combine with the diesel emissions from the car. Pollutants from the burning of fuels reacting with the sunlight's heat and fine particles in the atmosphere had many days ago formed the cloud of smog that hung over the city like dry ice at a disco. Unsustainable levels of traffic, high temperatures, sunshine and calm winds had led to increasing pollution levels nearer the ground, closer to where people were respiring. The population were already suffering from eye irritation, inflammation of the lungs, chest pains and most commonly, asthma attacks. Her little addition to the car's output wouldn't kill, at least not a fit and healthy human being. But it would exacerbate the side effects of the smog that were already there, making them much, much worse, creating havoc from normality, overloading the city's already overworked infrastructure.
Creeping back into the shadows, the low roar of the car fading into the distance behind her, she started to head in a south westerly direction, towards the suburbs of New Delhi, past the airport, heading for another battered old vehicle, where she would once again repeat the process with the other vial tucked safely in her belt.
5
Not a Snowball's Chance In Hell
Exiting the mantra-made shaft at speed, tucked tightly into a ball, he extended his senses all around him. The pinprick of light he'd seen had so quickly materialised into a dimly lit frozen cavern. Having looked, taken it all in and decided on a course of action in but a split second, he exerted all his will, ordering the mantra to move him as far right as it could, all the time spinning, his head tucked tightly between his knees, anticipating the looming impact that he knew, at the very least, would hurt like hell. He just had to get this right. His life, and many others, depended on it.
The camouflaged ball of fast moving energy that he was, bumped the side of one of the cavern's frosty walls, burning a hole in the specially designed suit, while at the same time scraping the skin from part of his left arm. Ignoring the brutal onslaught of fierce pain, he rushed towards the curved base of the icy floor, mentally wished himself luck, closed his eyes, erected the strongest shield he could, and waited.
The vast cavern, in which an unexplained hole had appeared not minutes before, abruptly shook violently. Jutting icicles and boulders tumbled from its ceiling, smashing inadvertently across the shiny, slick floor. A cascading echo the likes of which the cavern had never seen, ricocheted throughout, its harsh, rough notes seemingly trapped forever more.
Flash hit the curved base of the wall like a rocket. Still tucked in a ball, he shot across the slippery surface, eventually smashing into a collection of stalagmites tucked away in one darkened corner, finally coming to rest. Dizzily, he got to his feet, desperate to get his bearings, knowing time was of the essence.
Leaning over the shaft, waiting for any type of signal at all from his friend, he could sense the nervousness of the young dragons around him. It was only to be expected he supposed, given that they were here, in the harshest environment the planet had to offer, the only thing currently keeping them alive, the protective suits, the result of the youngsters' ingenuity, cunning and never ending imagination. Whether the suits would hold was pretty near the top of his worry list at the moment, not currently wishing to voice any concerns as to how long they were designed to last in these surroundings. Furthermore, he just wanted to get the naga king, and get out. This place gave him the creeps, and not just because of the cold. There was something else, something dark, mysterious and dangerous... something to be afraid of. His thoughts turned briefly to his wife, wishing dearly to see her again. But something deep inside told him he wouldn't, that he'd got himself in far too deep this time. So deep in fact, that he'd never return to the dragon domain, and the partner he so loved. Leaning over a little more, silently he willed his friend on, as the snowflakes battered his shrouded body.
On getting to his feet, he'd slid back into the wall, behind the remnants of the stalagmites that he'd just wiped out, unable to resist checking out his arm, the pain was so bad. A huge chunk had been taken out of the suit, exposing his elbow, or rather a significant bit of it that had the skin missing, bone and blood both showing. Swallowing back the bile that threatened to rise in his throat, he dipped into his well of magic and poured it out into his arm, relieved to feel the familiar healing tingle of it washing over his damaged limb.