The Dragon Warrior

Chapter 5

He sat quietly on his throne, his men standing nervously in a line directly in front of him. He narrowed his eyes. They were sweating through their suits.

He snorted. The men all jumped. Well. They had seemed all high and mighty on the train, but that had been against two measly teenagers - not even. Teenagers that beat the Jaxopose, a tiny voice in his head reminded him. He shook his head vigorously to get rid of it and dismissed the nagging feeling that the voice might be on to something.

He addressed his henchmen. "Come forward!" he barked at them. They took a small, terrified step forward. He fixed them with an intense glare. "Why have the Gondar filth not been eliminated?" he demanded, staring at each of them in turn. "Why have you not gotten rid of the family line?"

They stirred and mumbled, shuffling their feet back and forth. He chuckled at the sight of powerfully built men in handsome suits trembling like children under his very gaze.

"Answer me!" He thundered, his booming voice echoing around the bottomless cavern. They squirmed.

One brave servant put himself in danger and said, "Sir, we will immediately extinguish those two little pieces of garbage at the nearest opportunity possible."

He snarled at him, and he jumped back. "Fools!" He spat at them, keeping his voice low. "Your opportunity is now. Eliminate the dragon spawn before I eliminate you."

The men tripped over each other in their rush to exit the cavern. He watched them go, his cruel face curled into a smile. For the children didn't know that the leader of the Movopare was coming after them too.

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Emma woke early that morning. She tried to prolong her sleep by keeping her eyes shut; she had been having a strange, wonderful dream where she had been taken away... And she was being taught to use magic.

She sighed. It had been such a wonderful dream. She smiled, thinking about the food chute and how her parents' favourite foods were on it.

Emma knew the matron would be coming in to wake her up soon, so she opened her eyes and began to get out of bed.

Then she realized this was not her bed. Her bed at the camp did not have crisp sheets that opened with an audible crack when she lifted the quilt up. Her bed did not have a sweet - smelling lavender eiderdown that was soft to the touch. Her bed did not have a pillow that moulded perfectly to the shape of her head.

Emma looked around the room and found her brother snoring in the next bed. He looked so peaceful while sleeping. She grinned, then noticed a door to her right. Her bathroom. Looking inside, she remembered its luxurious hot shower, the oval shaped jacuzzi and the wall high mirrors that slanted this way and that.

She shook her head and went back out to take her clothes out of the high-efficiency laundry machines to her immediate left. They were soft and warm as she retrieved them from the softly whirring silver contraptions.

Emma immensely enjoyed having her first hot shower, then putting on her crisp uniform and looking in the mirror. She noticed that the outfit was perfectly formatted to her size - it curved perfectly around her hips, the width was just right and the pants weren't too long for her to walk in. She frowned. How did the tailors here know her measurements? She continued looking in the mirror, and even as she watched the camouflage pants became stretchy leggings and her black shirt became more fitted and feminine. She crinkled her forehead and thought about the fact she had a magic mirror in her bathroom.

When she emerged, she heard the sound of the shower running in the room over and assumed her brother, too, had discovered the luxury. She dismissed it and made the beds, smoothing out the crinkles and fluffing the pillows.