The Conjuring of Zoth-Avarex: The Self-Proclaimed Greatest Dragon in the Multiverse

by K. R. R. Lockhaven

  The dragon pointed his gargantuan claw at the boom mic overhead. Where the pole articulated was a spider web vibrating in the gentle breeze. “Hey, camera guy, get a close up of that web,” Zoth-Avarex said.

  As the camera zoomed in, viewers were able to discern letters written in the spider web. The letters spelled out the words SOME DRAGON.

  The reporter’s head shot back and forth between the web and the dragon.

  “It’s nothing,” Zoth-Avarex said. “Just a little trick. Have you seen your Earth movie Inception?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s kinda like that. I incepted the idea to write that in the spider’s little arachnid mind as soon as your microphone was set up. It only works on beings of lesser intelligence, though. Spiders, skienoxes, Site managers, stuff like that.”

  “How do you know so much about our world?”

  “I can see in all eleven dimensions and on all seven planes of existence. My abilities aren’t easily explained to humans. But, to put it in simple terms, I’ve been watching you for a while.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, you started watching me first. And I didn’t really like that. I am the watcher, not the watched. I am the one who knocks.”

  “So now that you’re here, what do you want?”

  “There you go, Ms. Nightingale, let’s get to it! What I want is pretty simple. I want sixty-three billion dollars’ worth of gold and treasure. Now, I have to say this next bit—even though I don’t like to!—but if I don’t get what I want I’ll be apt to get a little cranky. And when that happens I tend to crush kingdoms, raze realms, stuff like that. But let’s not focus on the business side of the whole thing. No one wants to talk about that too much. Let’s talk about my treasure. I don’t think it’s too much to ask. I mean, I was taken from my peaceful place in my own realm and brought here against my will to be a weaponized slave. They tickled a sleeping dragon, and now that I’ve turned the tables a little, I think I deserve to have a few things that I want. That doesn’t sound too unreasonable, does it?”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “So I encourage people to not only bring me the valuable gold and jewels that they own, but to also write to their congressional representatives. Tell them to dump the gold from Fort Knox into my pile. Tell them to clean out museums and banks. They made me, now pay me.”

  “You’re asking everyday people to give you all of their valuables?”

  “Well, yeah. But come on, this isn’t exactly a new thing here. You’ve got the whole one percent thing going on here, right? What is it, the top one percent of you have more wealth than the bottom eighty percent combined or something like that? At least knights in my kingdom would try to slay me when I would hoard everyone’s money, but you people seem to rejoice in it. But I digress. I’m not here for social commentary, or to be a living allegory or anything. I’m here to get treasure, baby!”

  “But it’s different, isn’t it?” the reporter said tentatively. “They earned their money and you’re . . . taking it?”

  The dragon sighed, looking skyward. “Sure, some of them earned their wealth, but earning billions of dollars is different. Wealth has the ability to take off and grow exponentially until some humans have way more money than they could ever possibly spend.”

  He rubbed the spikes on the back of his neck and sighed. “Let me put it another way. There are six basic forces in the Universe, right? Gravitation, electromagnetism, strong nuclear force, weak nuclear force, magic, and luck. Those last two are the most . . . influential to sentient lifeforms. Luck is just as powerful as magic. In the long run it may be the most powerful force in the Universe.

  “Where you flopped out of your mother is random, dumb luck. But humans always want to deny that, especially the rich ones. They want to think themselves solely responsible for their success, and to think those born in less fortunate situations just need to buck up and figure it out. And it’s not just individuals—this is on a massive scale, too. Just read your Earth book Guns, Germs, and Steel to get an idea of what I’m talking about, or try being born in the realm of Scheissewelt. Shit, I want to deny luck sometimes, but I was hatched as a damn dragon, so you know luck was on my side. Anyway, I think saying they earned their billions is a stretch in most cases.”

  “So, conversely, you’re saying that those born in less fortunate situations have no chance?”

  “Of course not. I’m just saying that . . .”

  The dragon scratched his chin again. “People here can calculate gravitational forces, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You can throw luck into a calculation the same way you do with gravity. If someone is born with a silver spoon up their ass, they’re not going to have to work very hard. But if someone is born with no luck, no advantages, they’re going to have to work a hell of a lot harder, right?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Luck times work equals success for most of the pathetic life forms in the multiverse. Some earn more, some are luckier. And just so we’re clear, I’m not talking about earning anything, myself. I get what I want by virtue of being born as me. I don’t have any false pretenses about earning shit.”

  The dragon cleared his throat, emitting a little burp of unintentional flame.

  “One more thing, and then we can move on to something lighter. You humans will soon be under the thumb of one mega-corporation because they’ve made your lives a little more convenient, and you’re all too busy staring at your phones to notice. So why not just give me what I want? I swear I’ll protect you from any foreign invaders. If aliens ever attack I can protect you from them, too. This isn’t such a bad deal when you look at it that way.”

  The reporter didn’t know how to proceed.

  “I have an idea,” the dragon said. “Why don’t you just shoot me some random questions? Like some get-to-know-you type questions or whatever.”

  “Okay. Um. How many other worlds are there?”

  “Countless. Not even I can count that high.” The dragon pointed at her. “Oh, here’s a fun fact. Every quote unquote fictional world you humans dream up is real somewhere in the multiverse. That’s why you dreamed it up. It’s not like any of you are that creative. An alternate reality seeped through into some writer’s mind, that’s all.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. Cool, huh?”

  In the brief silence that followed, the dragon spun a claw in the air, indicating that he wanted more questions.

  “What do you . . . do for fun?”

  “When I was young, back in my early two thousands, I used to really love burning the shit out of villages and just utterly destroying armies. But now that I’m a little older I’ve calmed down a bit. The perfect day for me now would be rolling around on my hoard with a nice amber ale, my beautiful princess and her beautiful essence nearby, maybe playing twenty questions or I Spy with her. You know, the good life.”

  “If you were to join one of our political parties, which would it be?”

  “I’m above all that bull—BS. I do see that your country has got itself in a mess with the two parties holding all the power, though. One thing I do believe in is rational self-interest being more important than the collective group, and that great minds, like mine, fuel progress, not the peasantry.” The dragon, like Atlas, shrugged. “I’m all about me, I can admit that. But can you admit that about yourself? Huh, Kendra?”

  “I . . .”

  “I’m just messing with you. You’re great. I’m really digging this interview. Hit me with some more randos.”

  “If you could . . . trade places with one Earth creature for a day, which one would it be?”

  “A dolphin. I’m not much of a swimmer, so it’d be nice to zoom around the water. They’re also the second smartest beings on your planet, smarter than you humans, so that’s a plus.”

  The reporter looked con
fused.

  “More questions! Please.”

  “Okay. What’s your . . . pet peeve?”

  “I’ve seen uncountable worlds and I have yet to find beings as lame and cowardly as comment-section bullies here on Earth. You know, internet tough guys who hide behind their keyboards. F them.”

  “Okay. I think we have time for one more. Uh . . . what’s the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to you?”

  “It’s pretty hard for me to get embarrassed. A dragon doesn’t concern itself with the opinions of . . . anyone. But there was this one time, when I found an elf trying to steal a powerful amulet from my treasure pile back in this magical realm. The little prick got away, so that was embarrassing in itself. But that wasn’t the end of it.

  “I flew out to seek revenge on him and his entire village for his thievery, as I am wont to do. So, I burned this village to the ground, right? There was absolutely nothing left but ashes. It was some of my best work.

  “As I’m flying back to my mountain I begin to feel a little disoriented. I look up at the position of the three moons and I realize it . . . . I was coming back from the wrong village.” The dragon shook his colossal head. “I had destroyed a dwarf village that was leagues away from the elven village I had hoped to burn down.” The dragon’s chuckle shook the news camera. “I felt like such an idiot on my way over to incinerate the right village.”

  The reporter looked at the camera with much more fear in her eyes. “That’s all the time we have. For Channel Six News, I would like to . . . thank Zoth-Avarex for his time.”

  “Thank you. This was fun.”

  A commercial for some sugary cereal flashed on the screen.

  Xop let out a little squeak.

  Steve’s Binder Clip

  By the time Harris had pulled into the parking lot of the Magical Artifacts Department, they had a tentative plan in place. With silent nods they stepped out of the car, smelling faintly of exhaust fumes.

  The red sun shone bright directly overhead, but Harris, pleased at the camaraderie developing between him and his new friends, barely noticed it. Together, the three of them entered the building.

  “Can I help you?” a receptionist said from his desk near the front door.

  “Yes. My name is Jake Sumner and I’m from the fire department.”

  “I can see that.”

  “I am here to perform a routine fire safety inspection.” He held up a clipboard they had borrowed from the Conjuring Department.

  “Who are they?” The man pointed at Harris and Ana.

  “Well, due to a new fire department protocol, I am required to have both a Caster and a Conjurer present with me during the entire inspection.”

  “Why?”

  “Well . . .” They hadn’t foreseen this question. “Because, uh, they want to be sure that the fire department isn’t taking any of their work away from them. It’s a pain in the—” Jake reduced his voice to just over a whisper and put a hand up next to his mouth, “—ass, if you ask me.”

  “I get it.” The receptionist shook his head.

  “I mean,” Jake continued, “me and you are cool. Me a firefighter and you doing what you’re doing, we get it, but these others,” Jake pointed a discreet thumb, “are lame-os, right?”

  “I hear you.” The receptionist handed Jake an access card with the prideful smirk of a co-conspirator. He frowned at Ana as she passed. “Calm down, sir,” he said to Harris.

  “Really?” Ana said when they were clear of the front desk. She jabbed Jake in the ribs with her wand.

  “Hey, it worked.”

  Harris consulted an old map on the wall near some elevators.

  “Class V Artifacts are up on the second floor.”

  “Let’s go,” Ana said. Harris thought they shared the briefest of moments when they made eye contact.

  On the way up Ana reminded them to stay cool, no matter what the doors opened up to.

  Had she not given this warning, Harris might have jumped when the doors opened up to a level swarming with security guards.

  Jake stepped out of the elevator like he owned the place. Many of the guards turned their attention to him. The hubbub of conversations went quiet.

  “Just here to do a fire inspection.” Jake held up his access card.

  The guards resumed talking with each other and paid the three newcomers no more mind.

  “How do we find out where the binder clip is?” Harris whispered to Ana and Jake.

  “I might have an idea,” Jake said.

  He wandered over to a male security guard sitting at a table eating lunch. “Hey, bro. Got a question for you.”

  “Yeah?” the guard said while chewing.

  “I’ve got a buddy that works with you guys. He stands guard at the binder clip or something like that.”

  “Antonio?”

  “Yeah. Antonio. You know him?”

  “Yeah. He guards Steve’s Binder Clip.”

  “That’s the one. Is there any way you can tell me where he is?”

  “Why?” the guard was suddenly a bit defensive.

  “I . . . want to pull a prank on him. Hopefully scare the shit out of him. I owe him for something he did to me last week.”

  “Oh, sure.” The guard had perked up. “He’s down in Hall 27. If you get him good, come back and let me know.”

  “For sure. Thanks, man.”

  Jake flashed his badge about twenty-six times on their way to Hall 27. When they arrived, they saw a single guard standing in front of a single door in a small hallway.

  “Hello, Antonio,” Jake said, showing the badge. “I’ve been sent by the boys upstairs to inspect your vault for, ya know, fire safety.”

  “It’s an empty room except for a metal safe. I don’t think it’s gonna go up in flames any time soon.”

  “Tell me about it. But it pays the bills, so I do what they tell me.”

  “I’ve been instructed to let absolutely no one inside unless they were accompanied by John Johnson himself. I got bills to pay too, buddy, and I ain’t moving for anyone.”

  “Okay. I guess I’ll go tell them you stopped me from performing my duties. They probably won’t be too happy, but I guess there’s no helping that.”

  “They weren’t too happy to begin with. They know the rules. They’ll live.”

  “All right. Thanks anyway, Antonio.”

  Jake, Ana, and Harris scurried away around the corner. Ana looked back at the guard several times as she went.

  “Shit,” Harris said. “What now?”

  “That guy was checking out my ass, hard,” Ana said, disgusted.

  “Okay.” Jake threw his hands up.

  “I mean he was really staring, like more than Harris does.”

  Harris turned a fire engine red. “I. . .”

  “It’s fine. You’re discreet and respectful enough, but that guy gave me an idea.”

  “What?” Jake said, smiling at Harris’s embarrassment.

  “What if I created the illusion of a hot woman, like, beckoning him to follow her around the corner or something?”

  “You’re joking.”

  “No. Why not?”

  “Why don’t we just put a dress and lipstick on Xop and do it full Bugs Bunny-style?”

  Xop shrugged and smiled, apparently willing.

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  “Bash him over the head with something?”

  “There are cameras all along this hallway. Someone would see that.”

  “They’ll see us going into the room anyway.”

  “It’ll be a lot less obvious than if we club a guard and drag him off.”

  “I say we try it,” Harris said. “It couldn’t really hurt, and we don’t have any better ideas.”

  “Thank you, Harris,” Ana
said. It was nice to hear her say his name.

  With a few flicks of her wand and some major concentration, Ana created a damn-near perfect replica of her sister Silvia wearing a tight red skirt.

  “Sorry,” she said to Jake, “but she’s the only person I know well enough from memory to make a good illusion of. And she’s gorgeous, so it might just work.”

  Jake gulped, melancholy glazing his eyes.

  The fake Silvia strutted into the hallway and waved at the guard. When he waved back, fake Silvia extended a long, slender finger and motioned for him to come to her.

  Antonio raised his eyebrows and pointed at his chest in the classic gestured question manner. Fake Silvia nodded her head, spun around, and walked around the corner toward Hall 28.

  Harris, Jake, and Ana pinned themselves against the wall to hide. Ana kept her wand directed at Fake Silvia. Before long, Antonio sneaked around the corner, following the illusion.

  Harris bolted for the door with Jake and Xop not far behind. Ana had stayed to play out the illusion for as long as she could. Harris swung open the door and closed it quickly but gently behind them once they’d entered the room.

  A single man-sized safe sat in the center of the room.

  “How in the hell are we supposed to open this, now?” Jake muttered.

  Harris studied the lock mechanism. It was a classic dial-style combination lock.

  “It’ll be three numbers,” Harris said. “Any ideas?”

  “No. It could be anything.”

  “Well, what do we know about this John Johnson? Anything?”

  “The thing about the Site Olympics and the pie-eating—”

  “Pi.”

  “Huh?”

  “Maybe it’s pi.”

  “I thought it was numbers.”

  “The mathematical constant pi.”

  “Okay, just try it.”

  Harris spun the dial to three. Then back around twice to one. He started toward four when Ana burst into the room.

  “Let’s go!” she cried, panic in her eyes.