The Conjuring of Zoth-Avarex

by K. R. R. Lockhaven

  “Thank you, Zoth. Can I call you Zoth?”

  “Of course, Soph.”

  “Oh, I love that.” The woman’s giggle was high and irritating. “So, I think the last interview you had was much too . . . stuffy. I hope to really get real with you. I want to find out about the real you, underneath.”

  “Sounds wonderful.”

  “Okay, let’s get right to it, then. My first question. How did it feel to be ripped from your home and taken to a foreign land?”

  “It didn’t feel great. I was minding my own business when, pop! I appeared in this giant, menacing dome surrounded by powerful magicians. It was terrifying.”

  “Sounds horrible.”

  “It was. And now I’m meant to feel shame because I don’t fit the standards your society imposes? Is that fair?”

  “Not at all.”

  “I humbly agree. I think it’s a mockery of my majesty. I think I deserve a few comforting items. Okay, maybe even more than a few. I deserve whatever it is that I want.”

  “Treasure?”

  “Exactly. And my beautiful woman.”

  “Uh . . .” There was a moment of radio silence.

  “I don’t understand why I want her to be with me, but I do. It’s a thing with royal blood and beautiful women where I come from. It was my upbringing that made me . . . addicted to them. And if you thrust me into some strange land, it’s an addiction that I’m going to fall back on.”

  “I can’t imagine . . .”

  “And it’s not like I’m a pervert or anything. I’m not like Vermithrax Pejorative, demanding virgin sacrifices. I don’t care about a woman’s sexual history. That’s her own business as far as I’m concerned.”

  “How. . .progressive of you.”

  The dragon growled, almost inaudibly.

  “So. . .” the interviewer said, her voice a touch more shaky than before, “what was it like growing up as a dragon?”

  “Well, I can tell you that there wasn’t any nurturing to speak of. I never knew my parents. My mother laid me in a crag on an active volcano and left me to fend for myself.”

  “That must have been difficult, growing up without them.”

  “It wasn’t easy. When I cracked out of my egg I was already damn-near all-knowing and all-powerful, but inside I was hurting. I knew everything there was to know about the mating habits of dragons. I knew that leaving eggs behind was completely normal, but I still couldn’t get over a deep-seated sense of abandonment.”

  “You poor thing.”

  “Some might have let this get them down, but I wasn’t going to allow this childhood trauma to define me. I decided right then and there that I was going to be the richest dragon the multiverse had ever seen. I would fill the hole in my soul with riches and gold. I would triumph where so many others may have given up hope.”

  “Amazing.”

  “And speaking of hope, I hope to inspire others with my story. They can see how a lonely egg on the edge of a volcano can someday grow up to be the wealthiest dragon ever hatched.”

  “Inspiring.”

  “I know, right?”

  “Okay, I’ve got to ask the tough questions here, or, you understand, I wouldn’t be doing my job . . . .”

  “Of course.”

  “What do you think of the negative media coverage which paints you in this . . . paints you as a villain?”

  “It’s phony, all of it. It’s a creation of the media3. The people don’t see me as a villain. Am I right? I saw a few citizens down below holding Zoth-Avarex for President signs. Critics will say I incepted them to make and hold those signs, but come on. If I could incept people like that, wouldn’t I just incept everyone to bring me their treasure?”

  “That’s a valid point.”

  “It is.”

  “Well, as much as I hate to disrupt this conversation, we need to take a quick commercial break. But when we return, Zoth will tell us about his delicious recipe for Dragon-Fired Jerk Chicken. Sounds a-maz-ing.”

  Ana switched off the radio.

  “What a load of shit,” she said. “Not one mention of how Silvia is doing?”

  “That was bullshit,” Harris said, trying to sound his angriest.

  * * *

  3 Zoth’s Footnotes: Shit, man. This is like Dragoning 101. If you want to dominate and subjugate an entire people, like I often do, you need to start by discrediting all other forms of information. I don’t want the peasantry getting their info from anyone but me. How else am I gonna be able to spin my taking of everything, and the misery it causes all of them, as something positive?

  Travel Permits

  On the walk from the car to the Realm Travel Department, Jake was attacked.

  With a forceful caw, a jet-black raven dove directly toward him.

  “It probably followed us from Magical Artifacts,” he yelled as he crouched down, covered his head, and ran.

  The raven was attempting to claw Jake’s shoulder, or it tried to land there. From Harris’s perspective safely behind a tree, he couldn’t tell for sure.

  The raven swooped up, banked, and again the oversized bird dove and reached its talons toward Jake, cawing all the way. Jake dove and rolled under a metal bench.

  The raven alighted on the bench and gave a final, victorious caw. Bending its head, it used its beak to pick at a piece of rolled parchment that was tied around one of its legs. Once it had removed the parchment, it dropped it in front of Jake’s cowering form. The raven took wing and flew out of view to the south.

  Harris, Ana, and Xop rushed over to Jake, all of them unable to hide smiles. Jake crawled out from under the bench and picked up the parchment.

  “It’s a prophecy,” he said after unrolling it. “It says: Dear Jake Sumner, the following Prophecy was Spoken Into Life this morning at 10:37 am by the Employee Prophet Megan Miller: The Dragon brought into our Land, can only be Slain by a Firefighter’s hand, A Particular One, he is Tall and Strong, His Love Taken he must Right this Wrong, But if the Beast is to be Slain, The Venerable Sword the One must Gain . . . . We Told You So, The Prophecy Department.”

  “A sword?”

  “There’s another travel permit, I guess,” Harris said.

  “Since we couldn’t get the binder clip, maybe I’ll have to . . . slay the dragon, instead?” Jake looked a touch nervous.

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Ana said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “But we should probably get that sword if we can. Ya think?”

  “Yeah. This prophecy found me for a reason, I guess.”

  Jake ducked as another raven buzzed overhead. It banked around and came to land on the ground near Jake’s feet. It dropped a small box on the ground, cawed at Jake, then flew away.

  “Two ravens in five minutes. And I hadn’t gotten one in years before today.”

  Ana scooped up the box and handed it to Jake.

  On top of the box was a note written in barely legible handwriting. It read:

  Jake,

  I made something for you.

  It’s important.

  The letter wasn’t signed. Inside the box was a blue-tinted crystal ball.

  “We call these movie balls at the station,” Jake said. “Magicians send each other little video messages with them.” Jake tapped the ball with his index finger.

  For a moment nothing happened. Then an image appeared, and music started to play. The music was familiar. The image in the crystal ball depicted a man dancing in front of a microphone.

  “Seriously?” Jake said.

  The man in the ball was now dancing in a trench coat.

  It took him a few seconds, but finally Harris knew what this was. In the crystal ball was Rick Astley’s music video for “Never Gonna Give You Up.” They had just been “Rickrolled” via raven.

  Ed
die Wilson appeared on the screen, also dancing in a trench coat.

  “Sorry,” he said, giggling. “I couldn’t help myself. But I do have something important to tell you, Jake. I heard about a prophecy concerning you. I told the people at the Prophecy Department to send it to you right away, but you can never trust anything to actually get done around here, so I wanted to tell you myself. Oh . . . hold for the chorus.”

  After the chorus played, Eddie continued. “You should be getting a raven soon from them, but if not, go to the Prophecy Department and ask about it. I didn’t hear the actual prophecy yet, just heard about its existence. All right, good luck. Don’t ever give up, ‘cause I’m never gonna give you up!”

  “Wow,” Jake said. “Good one, Eddie, but a little late.”

  When they entered the building of the Realm Travel Department they were greeted by yet another receptionist.

  “We’ll be right with you,” he said. “Take a seat.”

  There were two other men sitting in the waiting area. One of them, a skinny young man with wild red hair, sat in the corner talking on a kind of headset. He mentioned something about a well of despair, then lay back as if to take a nap.

  The other man looked incredibly excited. He wore a Hawaiian shirt with colorful flowers, a straw hat, and glasses.

  “My first time going to other realms,” he said giddily.

  “Oh, cool.”

  “Doing a customized pub crawl.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Starting out at The Green Dragon in the Shire, then heading to The Eolian in Temerant, hitting The Mended Drum in Ankh-Morpork, before finishing up at The Vermillion Minotaur in Foon. I can’t wait!”

  “How are you able to do this at work?”

  “I’ve been at the Site for thirty years. I earned a Site-sponsored vacation. One of the perks of being out here so long.” The man beamed with pride.

  “Sounds fun,” Harris said. “Do you happen to know where a fella could find the Venerable Sword?”

  “No, sorry. But I’ll let you know if I run across it.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Can I help you?” the receptionist said.

  Harris approached the front desk. “We need to get travel permits to Titan, and wherever the Venerable Sword is located.”

  The receptionist typed on his computer without a word. After a minute, he looked back up. “Do you have your Travel Specific Training Card and your proof of Dragon Pox Immunization?”

  “Not right now, but we could get them.”

  “Well, I can’t schedule you a permit time without those things. We’ll also need to send a raven to your managers with a Travel Request Form. New policy.”

  “This is an emergency,” Ana said. “My sister has been taken by the dragon that was just conjured and we’re trying to rescue her.”

  “I understand, but all Travel Permits are for emergencies if you believe those asking for them. That’s why we have a protocol to follow.”

  “We could be talking life and death, here. We need to get a permit, now!”

  “Raising your voice is going to get you nowhere. In fact, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  Jake took Ana, who had turned a deep red and looked as if she were about to explode, back a few steps.

  “Look,” Harris said in a calm, assertive voice, trying his best to mimic what Jake had done back at the Magical Artifacts Department. “She’s excitable right now because her sister was taken by a fire-breathing dragon. She didn’t mean to lose her cool, she’s just scared.”

  “I understand. But my job is to maintain the rules.”

  “I know. I know. And you’re doing a good job of it. . . I’m Harris, by the way. What’s your name?”

  “Travis.”

  “Can I ask you a quick personal question, Travis?”

  “Sure. I guess.”

  “Who in your life is important to you?”

  “My mom.” The answer was instantaneous.

  “Of course,” Harris said. “What is special about her?”

  “Everything.” Travis swallowed and blinked his eyes quickly.

  “Now try to imagine if your mom was taken away by a giant dragon.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Could you try? Just for a second.”

  “I . . . it would be horrible.” Travis’s chin trembled, the corners of his mouth went down, and his eyebrows went up.

  Xop flew to Travis’s chest and nuzzled up against his chin. The man gently held the imp as a tear fell down his cheek.

  “Exactly. So this girl who really was captured, she is that important to both of my friends, here. Like, the most important person in both of their worlds.”

  “She is?”

  “Yeah. And we are trying anything we can to get her back and safe.”

  “But . . .”

  “I know this Site is all about the rules, and those rules are important. But sometimes, a special situation arises in which something . . . bigger happens. Something that speaks to our hearts instead of our brains. You have a chance, Travis, to really help some people out here. To be a hero in someone’s time of need.”

  “I do?”

  “Yeah.”

  “This little guy is so soft,” Travis said, petting Xop.

  “He is, isn’t he? And you would totally make his day, too, if you were to do this for us.”

  “Is that right?” He looked down at Xop.

  “Mmm hmm,” Xop said in a purr-like voice.

  “Okay,” Travis murmured.

  “Okay? You’ll do it?” Harris was shocked that this had actually worked.

  “Yeah.” Travis’s voice sounded a bit more steady and hopeful. “As soon as you get the cards, the immunization records, and the note from you managers, I’ll put your requests right on the top of the pile. It should only take a few weeks to get you through the system, then.”

  Jake held Ana back, barely.

  “Xop!” she shouted. “Bite him!”

  Xop flew out of the man’s arms and shook his head.

  “Okay, then I will!” Ana made a lunge that almost broke through Jake’s muscular arms.

  Harris helped Jake usher Ana out of the building.

  “What a prick!” she said.

  “I know,” Jake said, obviously upset as well. “We’ll have to think of a Plan C.”

  “Maybe they got that ring to control the dragon?” Harris said, trying to inject a little optimism. “We could go back to the Conjuring Department to find out. And maybe Eddie or Marian have come up with something by now.”

  “Good idea,” Jake said, but his expression reflected despair. He looked beaten.

  Harris began to feel hopeless, too. If Jake could be beaten, Harris didn’t stand a chance.

  Ana sat on the ground and stared at nothing. “We haven’t achieved a single thing.” Her voice was cracked. “We aren’t even one tiny step closer to getting her back.”

  Harris couldn’t argue that point. They had failed to get the binder clip, failed to get a travel permit, and now they had an additional mission involving the sword from the prophecy. They were stuck, with no options in sight.

  Ana stood and brushed the dirt off her butt. Harris made a point to not watch.

  “But we gotta keep trying,” Ana said. “Let’s go.”

  Quest for the Ring, Part Two

  Sopping wet, Chris Miyazaki trudged inland toward a small circular well made out of stones. Dead trees loomed over the well from all sides. Crows lined the crooked boughs and several stood on and around the well. A wooden sign was posted in front of the stone structure.

  When Chris approached the sign he found it to be blank. But just as he was about to go peer into the creepy well, letters appeared and began to swirl on the face of the sign. When they stopped moving they
read:

  The Well of Despair

  Those Who Enter Must Choose

  The Choice for You:

  Truth or Spiders

  That decision was exceedingly easy for Chris. “Truth,” he said out loud.

  The letters of the sign began to swirl again, eventually stopping with new words formed.

  You Have Chosen Truth

  If at Any Time the Truth Becomes Too Much

  Simply Speak the Words

  “No More Truths”

  And the Truths Will Cease

  The old wooden handle on the side of the well began to turn as if being cranked by a ghost. One of the crows was forced to hop aside by the turning handle, but the others stayed in place, uninterested in Chris’s presence. Chris reluctantly crept to the edge of the well and peeked over the side. At the end of the rope, rising slowly up to him, was a small wooden plank, like an old-fashioned swing.

  “Am I supposed to go inside this well?” Chris asked Pete in his communicator.

  Pete didn’t respond.

  “Pete!”

  “Oh. . . sorry. I was having a thumb war with myself.”

  “What do I do when I get to the. . . Well of Despair?”

  “Yer ‘spose to go in it. There should be a seat attached to a rope or something. Sit on the seat and the well will lower you down to the third task. Sounds easy enough, right?”

  “Yeah.” Chris stared down into the inky blackness, a shiver running up his spine.

  Everything in Chris’s body told him not to climb into the well: his claustrophobia, his general fear, his common sense . . . they all pointed toward giving up the insane idea. But his manager’s words rang in his head. He’d been given a job assignment and was expected to carry it out. This was only the second day of his dream job, working with actual magic. He couldn’t do anything to mess it up. He had to power through this. At least he had the choice to avoid spiders.

  Chris climbed over the stone edge of the well and took a seat on the wooden plank, maintaining a death-grip on the damp, mossy rope.

  The seat began to lower itself.