by Brandon Mull
He remembered Vanessa, and felt the terrible weight of her lost sight. He remembered his job as a co-caretaker of Wyrmroost. And he realized he had caused the fall of the sanctuary.
Biting his lower lip, Seth bowed his head. He had released the undead from the Blackwell. How could he have been so stupid! He had gotten Agad killed. He had enabled Celebrant’s escape. He had helped the Sphinx and Ronodin.
Suddenly Seth wished he could hide from his memories. Their weight was too much! In releasing Celebrant, he had destroyed the sanctuary he had sworn to protect. He had caused the fall of the other sanctuaries Celebrant had toppled.
Seth wasn’t sure he liked himself. His memories felt like enemies that he could not hold back, disproving anything good he had hoped about his identity.
“A lot to sort through?” Humbuggle asked.
Seth slumped forward and puked onto the marble floor. He could not control the sobs. He was a murderer!
“You may want to hurry,” Humbuggle said, rising. “They’re coming for you.”
With those words, Humbuggle snapped his fingers and vanished.
Seth stared blankly at the place where the demon dwarf had stood.
“You heard him,” Calvin said. “We have to get out of here!”
“Is that you, Calvin?” Seth asked.
“I’m still here,” Calvin said.
“Help me,” Seth whispered.
“Always,” Calvin assured him. “Though you have done the hardest stuff alone.”
“I destroyed the things I cared about most,” Seth said. “I’ve been my own worst enemy.”
“You didn’t know,” Calvin said. “Ronodin lied to you. He used you.”
“I let Graulas get free,” Seth said. “Before my memory loss. It got Coulter killed. And now I’ve done worse. I’ve sabotaged us all.”
“You parted ways with Ronodin,” Calvin said. “You figured that out on your own.”
“I need to get out of here,” Seth said. “I abandoned Kendra on a hill surrounded by dragons, in order to break some stupid stone and get my memories back. Careful what you wish for, Calvin. I earned these memories. People paid for them with their lives. They’re mine to own.”
“We still have a war to fight,” Calvin said. “And a curse to break.”
Seth squeezed his head between his hands. “Kendra will do better without me. How is anyone supposed to trust me? I don’t trust myself!”
Celebrant opened the door and entered, flanked by men and women bearing weapons. Seth assumed they were all dragons. He remained seated by his vomit.
“Where is the Wizenstone?” Celebrant asked.
“I destroyed it,” Seth said.
Celebrant nodded slowly. “So it would seem. You made a mess of things out there.” The Dragon King smiled. “The war is going well for us. I can live in a world without a Wizenstone, especially when that world also lacks the Harp of Ages.”
“Are you here to kill me?” Seth asked.
Celebrant shook his head. “No. Today I have a pledge to fulfill to the new Fairy King. You’re coming with me.”
Merek kept a tight hold of Kendra, strong hands compressing her upper arms, as the clang of the final string reverberated through her and across the earth and sky. Seth vanished, but the Harp remained, severed strings twisting and curling in unsightly directions.
“What happened?” Kendra asked. “Where did he go?”
“I’m not sure,” Merek said, releasing her arms. “I assumed Humbuggle would appear. Perhaps Seth was transported to him instead.”
“This was part of the Game?” Kendra asked.
“This was the end of the Game,” Merek said. “By cutting the strings of the Harp of Ages with the Unforgiving Blade, Seth just won the Wizenstone.”
“This was about a prize?” Kendra shook her head. “If he tries to claim the Wizenstone, he’ll be killed.”
“Seth knows the basics,” Merek said. “He’ll be smart about it. Meanwhile, we have a situation.”
The dragons that the Harp had put to sleep were waking and rising. The avatars climbing the hill looked around in confusion.
Picking up the damaged Harp, Merek raised his voice. “We awakened the slumbering dragons! Now leave us in peace! Fly away and do not return!”
The demand appeared to increase the confusion among those on the hillside. The dragons did not yet seem to realize the Harp had been destroyed.
Kendra felt the ground tremble. In the distance, she saw a ridgeline sit up. The blackened ridge had been almost totally burned by the dragons. As the ridge arose, charred soil and carbonized trees fell away, revealing a behemoth who looked as if he were in his sixties or seventies, easily the largest giant Kendra had ever beheld. The ridge had apparently been comprised of a giant resting on his back, covered in stone.
“Who is that?” Kendra asked.
“Pietro,” Merek marveled. “One of the sleeping giants. After all these years, he awoke.”
“He looked like a burned ridge,” Kendra said.
“The sleeping giants have hibernated for years,” Merek said. “Over time, they merged with the countryside.” He pointed. “Look, Zabella is rising as well.”
In the distance, Kendra saw a tremendous female giant brushing herself off. She may have been even taller than Pietro, though she was farther away, so it was hard to gauge.
“The Harp,” Merek said, looking down at the instrument in his hands. “It must have played a role in their long sleep. The timing makes sense. Their hibernation began while the Dragon Temple was under construction.”
Pietro had started using an enormous hoe to swat dragons out of the sky. Relative to him, they looked the size of chickens.
The dragons who had awakened were flying away, and the human avatars raced downhill. Some of the dragons still swarmed Pietro and Zabella, but others were apparently fleeing.
“WHAT ARE YOU VERMIN DOING TO MY ISLAND?” asked a voice as deep as the ocean and as broad as the sky.
Turning, Kendra beheld the largest being she had ever seen, striding from the north. Dressed in a white toga, he carried a sword and a round shield. A gold band circled his brow, his arms and legs rippled with muscle, and he grew larger with every stride.
“We woke Garocles,” Merek said reverently.
“Who?” Kendra asked, transfixed by his enormity.
“The father of Imani,” Merek said. “Garocles the titan. He’s the Dragon Slayer of Titan Valley, but he has slept for centuries.”
Several sleeping giants followed Garocles. Still others plodded into view, converging from diverse directions. The few dragons attacking Garocles looked like sparrows. He cut them down with nonchalance.
“YOU HAVE VIOLATED THIS LAND, SAURIANS,” Garocles declared. “DEPART OR PERISH.”
Dragons still assailed Pietro with fire, lightning, and gushing liquids. The barrage seemed like a minor irritant to the giant, who slew one or two attackers with every stroke of his hoe.
“The sleeping giants are colossal,” Kendra said. “But Garocles is unbelievable.”
“Legend has it he grows not only according to his anger, but also in proportion to the onslaught,” Merek said. “Celebrant could not have anticipated this.”
As Garocles came nearer, every step an earthquake, the dragons quit all attacks and started to flee. Garocles stopped, leaving the sleeping giants to pursue them. The dragons climbed high, out of reach, retreating to the southeast away from the titan.
“They’re running away,” Kendra said.
“Celebrant sounded the retreat,” Merek said. “Or whoever he left in charge of the battle did. I wish they had stayed.”
“Why?” Kendra asked.
“With Garocles awake, we could have won the dragon war today,” Merek said.
“Will he go after them?” Kendra asked.
“Garocles is the Dragon Slayer of this sanctuary,” Merek said. “His jurisdiction is here. A titan is as much a force of nature as he is a living being. With hi
m awake, Titan Valley will be the last place any smart dragon will come. But it is impossible to say what help we can expect from him elsewhere. You and I lived through the day. Though many did not, and the preserve is in shambles, it could have ended worse. The dragons enjoyed great success, but they finally took some damage.”
“Did Seth know cutting the harp strings would wake up the sleeping giants?” Kendra asked.
“He made no mention of it to me,” Merek said.
“They got Terastios,” Kendra said. “I hope my cousins stayed in Humburgh.”
“Humburgh should be secure,” Merek said. “The protections there derive from Humbuggle and the Wizenstone, not the Giant Queen.”
“We have to find my cousins and the satyrs,” Kendra said. “And we have to find Seth.”
“I will help you,” Merek said.
“So will I,” Raxtus chimed in, still in fairy shape. “Is the titan shrinking?”
Kendra’s gaze returned to Garocles.
“The threat is diminishing,” Merek said. “His outrage is cooling.”
The titan watched the fleeing dragons until they shrank from view. He continued the vigil for an extra ten minutes, gradually losing size, until he turned and strode off the way he had come.
“Do you think the dragons killed the Giant Queen?” Kendra asked.
“I expect so, if she remained at Terastios,” Merek said. “She may have fled to Stratos. Or perhaps even to Humburgh. We’ll learn her fate before long. It should be safe for us to fly to Humburgh now.”
Raxtus returned to dragon shape.
“I’m worried about my brother,” Kendra said.
“We have to find him,” Merek said. “The fate of the world may rest on how he handled the end of the Titan Games.”
Seth sat in a dungeon cell with his back to the wall, hands on his knees, head bowed. The air was too cold. The only light flickered indirectly from a torch down the hall. Somewhere water slowly dripped. He no longer had the Unforgiving Blade or his satchel of gear. He still had wings. Calvin remained in his pocket.
But the little nipsie had stopped trying to reassure Seth. He seemed to realize that Seth needed time.
After leaving Titan Valley, Celebrant had personally carried Seth to the fallen Soaring Cliffs sanctuary. Flying steadily, they had crossed oceans and mountains, glimpsed cargo ships and airplanes. The old castle at Soaring Cliffs was now staffed by dragons, and Seth had been locked in the dungeon until he could be delivered to Ronodin.
Seth had found that he could keep warm by wrapping his wings around himself. But at present, he kept them folded behind his back, even though he was shivering. He wanted to suffer. He deserved to be locked up.
The memories that he had fought to regain now tortured him. The more he remembered, the more he ached. Without his memories, he had felt like he was doing his best. But he had crossed lines that could never be uncrossed. He had set events in motion that could never be undone.
This cell was too good for him.
He flexed the fingers of the hand he had used to bisect the Wizenstone. He could move that arm now, but not all sensation had returned. Part of him hoped the injury was permanent. There needed to be external evidence of how bad he felt inside.
He had been trying to do the brave thing, the right thing, when he went through that door at Stormguard Castle. He had surrendered his memories hoping to save the day and let Kendra get the Wizenstone instead of Celebrant. His intention had been selfless, and it had led to disaster.
He still didn’t know if Kendra, Raxtus, or Merek had survived. It was possible that Warren, Tanu, Vanessa, Knox, Tess, and the satyrs had perished as well.
Calvin had tried to bolster his spirits. The nipsie was right that he had been deceived. But Calvin didn’t understand that, to Seth, having good intentions almost made it worse. It suggested he couldn’t trust his instincts.
Without grasping the ramifications, Seth had freed the undead from the Blackwell and caused the fall of Wyrmroost. How could he ever have suspected Ronodin might be on his side? Even for a second? How had he not recognized that Kendra was trying to help him?
Humbuggle had applauded him for having a strong sense of identity. The dwarf couldn’t have been more wrong about that one! Happy to be free of the Wizenstone, the demon had recklessly overcomplimented him.
Seth waited silently in the damp dimness. Maybe he would stay incarcerated forever. Maybe Ronodin would come for him. Seth wiped his runny nose with the back of his hand. He could finally receive a punishment proportionate to his crimes.
Seth wished he could go back and do everything differently. If he had never dealt with Graulas, never become a shadow charmer, Wyrmroost might still be safe. Agad might be alive. Coulter might be alive. So many people might be alive. As the war went on, it would become impossible to count the lives he had ended and ruined.
Too much had happened. Too much had gone wrong. There was no way to erase it.
Seth could feel the dark power inside, even now. He was sure he could unlock the cell if he desired. How many guards were out there? Could he shade walk past them? Could he get free?
Should he get free?
What if he could repair some of the damage he had caused? Kendra needed help. The world needed help. The dragons were nearing a position where they could win their war. Ronodin had control of the Fairy Realm.
He desperately wanted to help. Even if it killed him.
Then again, what if he found a new way to make things worse?
Seth could sense undead in this dungeon. Feeling outward with his powers, Seth noticed a wraith coming toward him. This was unexpected. The undead here were all locked up. But this wraith was advancing down the hall toward his cell.
The wraith moved into view and stopped in front of his cell, gazing at Seth through the bars. The temperature in the chilly cell dropped noticeably.
Greetings, Seth Sorenson, the wraith communicated.
“How do you know my name?” Seth whispered.
The Singing Sisters sent me to find you, the wraith conveyed.
“Whiner?” Seth asked. “Is that you?”
You called me that when you delivered me to them.
“Are you still cold?”
Always, Whiner replied. But the Sisters rehabilitated me.
“You’re more articulate,” Seth whispered.
The Sisters request the favor you owe them, Whiner expressed.
Seth could not help laughing. “Really? Now? I’m kind of in jail.”
I’m here to get you out, Whiner said.
“Has anyone told the Singing Sisters that the world is ending?” Seth asked.
If you do not comply, they will deploy the knife, Whiner warned.
“It will hunt me down and kill me,” Seth said. “I know.”
They sent this to help you fulfill their request, Whiner said, holding out a sword.
Seth sat forward. “Vasilis? Really?”
If you will fulfill their request, Whiner said.
Seth knew the power of that sword. “What do they ask?”
The Sisters want you to gather all fragments of the Ethergem and bring the pieces to them.
Seth considered what that would include: the broken Wizenstone, the stone from the crown of the Giant Queen, the stone from the crown of the Dragon King, the stone from the crown of the Demon King, and the Ethershard from Stratos. “Is that all?” Seth asked.
That is all, Whiner replied.
Although Seth had beaten the odds by accomplishing difficult missions, some aspects of this request seemed truly impossible to fulfill. Seth chuckled darkly.
The Sisters need an answer, Whiner pressed.
“All right,” Seth said, rising. “Give me the sword.”
Whiner handed the weapon through the bars. When Seth grabbed the hilt, vitality and warmth flooded into him. His mind felt sharper, his purpose clear.
The blade glowed a red so deep it was almost black. With two quick strokes, bars clattered to
the floor, and Seth had a way out of his cell.
Acknowledgments
Book four in a five-volume series is a tough one. The books in the series I write tend to get thicker and more complex as the story goes on, and Champion of the Titan Games was no exception. It took a lot of effort to create this installment and get it ready for readers, and I owe thanks to many people.
The key woman on this project was my wife, Erlyn. She was right there with me as I conceptualized the book, was the first person to edit every chapter, and helped with polishing as well. She is very astute with language, and the book is better thanks to her involvement.
Sometimes it helps me to talk about the story I am planning, and this time I got some good early help from Chris Schoebinger and Hamish Elliott, along with the Baker kids—Anika, Brock, Clark, Chet, little Erlyn, and Fiona. They helped enrich the ingredients as I prepared the soup. There is also a reader named Marc Bienenfeld who has pointed out some improvements to make and who knows my books well enough that I sometimes ask him fact-checking questions.
I created this novel under strange conditions, not only during the COVID-19 pandemic, but also as I was engaged to be remarried. My thanks go out to Erlyn and her kids for being flexible, and to my kids as well. I also offer thanks to Duane and Erlyn Madsen (there are four generations of Erlyns in that family) for letting me use a little apartment near my fiancée on some days as I wrote this book.
As always, professional editors gave me invaluable feedback and made key improvements, including the inimitable Chris Schoebinger and the extremely talented Emily Watts. Early readers of rough drafts also helped the project, including Jason and Natalie Conforto, Monte Conforto, Erlyn Mull, Pamela Mull, Cherie and Bryson Mull, Davis Mull, Lila Mull, Sadie Mull, Chase Mull, Rose Mull, and Calvin Mull.
My Uncle Tuck wanted to help, but he had trouble thinking clearly because of his brain tumors. Tuck has assisted with all of my books since the start, and he even came up with the name of the Wizenstone, but his medical complications have been extreme for months. I love him and appreciate the mentoring he has given me.
