Champion of the Titan Games

by Brandon Mull

  “I had brought my quill from the swamp with me for luck, and it reminded me to claim another prize. As you can see, I used my dagger to remove a fang from the partially exposed yeti and brought it back as evidence. I conducted more explorations of the mountain passes after the events inside the cave, and though I nearly met my end from cold and avalanches, I saw no further indications of yetis. You are welcome to conduct your own investigations, but today I pronounce the northern mountains safe to inhabit.”

  By the time summer was hot and the snows had released their grip on all but the loftiest peaks, the cave was found, along with the rockfall and the partial skeleton of a yeti. Some of the more adventurous from Selona moved to the mountains as herdsmen or to support logging and mining operations. Using funds from his earldom and newly acquired duchy, Konrad invested in many of these ventures, and though some failed, others paid off handsomely, making him second only to the king in wealth.

  More years passed, and though the northern mountains granted many resources, they offered limited space for new settlements, and the winters were fierce at high altitudes. Before long, the eyes of King Titus strayed eastward.

  A proclamation went forth: “The eastern river lands have ample fields and forests to inhabit and waterways to harness for power and irrigation. If any man will go and vanquish the dread vampire, he will have my blessing to pursue the hand of my daughter, Princess Lilianna. The offer becomes void at the end of three days.”

  The debate in town primarily concerned whether Konrad would come forward or be content having thwarted death twice and gained so much. Some could not imagine a man of his position risking everything for any reason. Others could not envision a man of his character resisting the urge to again prove his valor. All agreed that a chance to win the hand of Princess Lilianna would be enough to tempt any man, especially since she already seemed to favor Konrad.

  The Duke of Hinterhill kept his own counsel and let the town wonder until he came forward on the third day, wholly equipped and in the full bloom of manhood. Court gossips spoke of the approving glances Konrad received from the princess before he departed. Several young men boasted that they had been on the verge of accepting the challenge but that Konrad had narrowly beaten them to the opportunity. But, as on previous adventures, no man offered to accompany him.

  When Konrad rode away to best the dread vampire, the majority who worked with him or for him voiced their expectations that he would return. Others reminded the public that luck had played a role in his former victories, and they recounted gruesome tales of the vampire and his sinister exploits in the eastern reaches. Wagers were placed about whether Konrad would again survive, with the majority lamenting that the duke had finally taken one risk too many. But those who bet on his success were rewarded in hardly more than a fortnight, when Konrad rode back into town looking not only unharmed but unruffled. This time the king summoned his court to the town square to hear the tale before a huge crowd.

  “I see no need to regale you with the hardships met along the way to Blackthorn Manor. I won’t remind you how overgrown the former paths through the forests have become, or the variety of wild beasts roaming that friendless territory—not merely boars, wildcats, and bears, but enchanted creatures as well, clever satyrs and devious nymphs, not to mention the river trolls.

  “At length I established camp in the abandoned village of Tremonton, where owls and badgers have replaced men and women. I was struck that the town must have emptied suddenly, for I found tables set for meals, half-completed handicrafts, and plows deserted in the fields. Of people I saw none, save a single jabbering madman who escaped into the woods at my approach.

  “Those who know the legends may be interested to learn that I found Blackthorn Manor exactly as described, upon a slender island in the midst of the Silver River. The stone bridge from the riverbank to the manor was in good repair, and the gates into the fortified residence stood open. The entire scene appeared much too inviting for my liking, but for the thickets of pikes topped with human skulls.

  “I approached the manor under the noonday sun, carrying a wooden spear and several wooden stakes. For luck, I also had the gorgon’s quill and the yeti’s fang. Beyond the gate, I found the courtyard tidy, though the walls were overgrown with ivy. The elegant stronghold appeared utterly derelict. I noted no bones, nor blood, nor signs of violence, though I did not forget that outside were skulls enough to fill an ossuary.

  “Spear held ready, I entered the manor. Progressing from room to room, I flung open curtains to admit daylight. Except for a film of dust interrupted by occasional mouse prints, all appeared in order. I detected no evidence of looters—the rooms appeared fully furnished and decorated, without so much as a broken window. This was troubling, because the gates stood open and no door within the manor was locked. Some unseen threat must have held potential interlopers at a distance.

  “Toward the end of my disquieting tour of the manor, I located a stone stairway descending into an ancient cellar. Before reaching the bottom step, by the light of my torch I beheld the beginnings of not a cellar but a crypt. A dragging scrape of stone against stone from the darkness beyond my light brought me to a halt. I was already retreating up the stairs when I heard the crash of a heavy slab, presumably the lid of a sarcophagus.

  “I bolted for the courtyard and did not look back until I stood in the full light of day, wooden spear held ready. The fiend came to the doorway, grotesquely human with hairless, pallid skin and jutting bones. Though he wore no shirt, his tattered pants looked to be made of fine fabric. Fierce eyes glared out of a gaunt, knobby head. Tendons stood out on the back of long hands as contorted fingers twisted and jerked.

  “Keeping out of the direct sunlight, the abomination studied me, then beckoned with a gesture. I unwittingly took several steps toward him before resisting with a major effort of will. As I backed away, I saw hate and desperation flash into those baleful eyes, and I realized the creature was starving.

  “The vampire beckoned again, but with less effect. Baring sharp teeth, the unholy atrocity charged into the sun after me. Fumes rose from his bubbling flesh as the sun seared it, and his violent shriek set my teeth on edge as the fiend approached with alarming speed.

  “I raced out through the gates and onto the bridge with the vampire closing fast. Turning at the last moment, I planted my feet and leveled my spear. My assailant flailed forward, blinded, snarling, sizzling, and I impaled his upper chest beside his shoulder only to have the spear wrenched from my grasp.

  “The vampire pawed at the spear, screaming, and while his back was turned to me, I plunged a stake just to one side of his spine. I cannot confirm how much of the damage was caused by my attacks, and how much depletion resulted from exposure to direct sunlight and his malnourished state, but the wretched creature dissolved into a cloud of foul particles.

  “I stood for a time in disbelief that I had survived. Catching my breath and gathering courage, I returned to the crypt and investigated the vaults and sarcophagi within. None of the desiccated bodies I uncovered showed signs of life, but I staked them to be sure. As a token of my adventure, I brought back the stake that slew the fiend, which I hold now in my hand. No amount of scrubbing has removed the dark stain from the wood.

  “I am relieved to announce that the vampire of Blackthorn Manor is no more. The eastern reaches are reopened to development.”

  Once again, the story was verified, and the kingdom of Selona gained new industry and territory. Villages were rebuilt, roads refurbished, mills constructed, bridges raised, farms irrigated, and trees felled. Expansion was somewhat limited by impenetrable forests and wildlands, and certain groves were avoided where satyrs frolicked and nymphs dwelt, but overall the kingdom of Selona enjoyed a new era of greater prosperity. Some unknown wit labeled Konrad the Legender, since he had ended three long-standing legends, and the name spread.

  The Legender courted Princess Lilia
nna, and, in time, their affection deepened into a true and abiding love. The kingdom rejoiced when they were married amidst much fanfare. Lilianna birthed two daughters, who received the doting attention of their father until the fateful day when the king approached Konrad in private.

  “The final threat to our kingdom is the phoenix of the western waste,” the king explained. “The waste holds salt mines, as you know, along with our best trade routes. If we can be rid of the phoenix, the kingdom will be secure, and my reign a success. Age has made me weary, and I am desirous enough to be rid of this final scourge that, if you will destroy the phoenix, I will step down and deliver my crown to you.”

  “I will accomplish your wish,” the Legender replied, “not only in order to secure the throne but out of respect for your desires as my king and my father.”

  A proclamation went out that the Legender would venture forth on one final mission, and at last the people of Selona believed he would succeed. Konrad had been lionized into a folk hero capable of anything, so destroying the phoenix seemed like a feat he might undertake simply for recreation. Few were shocked at the offer of the king to step down, since Konrad had wed his eldest daughter. Some cautious voices warned that a phoenix was no creature to trifle with, but when Konrad rode away to the west, his departure was met primarily with merriment and high expectations.

  As weeks passed, the people of Selona began to doubt. After the first month, Princess Lilianna could often be found weeping in her garden. But after nearly three months away, the Legender returned, hair and beard grown out, skinny and sunburned, but very much alive. He spoke his last tale from the castle balcony to a sea of onlookers that spread beyond the sound of his voice.

  “Some of you may recall I ventured west into arid wasteland with my trusty steed and a pack mule in tow. As I beheld the stark scarcity of that stony wilderness, I began to carefully ration my stores of food and water. I shall not rhapsodize about scorching sands and sunbaked rocks, or scraggly plants surviving through some miracle of adaptation, or the meager comforts found on the shady side of a bluff. I will skip recounting the abundance of scorpions and venomous vipers or the false promises offered by shimmering mirages and parched gulches.

  “I reached a particularly tortured landscape where pools of hot sludge simmered, lava oozed from cinder cones, and towering geysers of scalding steam surged rebelliously skyward. My first glimpses of the phoenix resembled a distant spark in the sky. At night the bird became more distinct, a fiery comet among the stars.

  “I tracked the phoenix for days, paying closest attention to where it landed and from whence it rose. I took care not to get too close, but I soon came to appreciate that the fiery bird was at least the size of my horse. I also noted that when hunting or agitated, the phoenix burned brighter, occasionally shedding showers of sparks or exhaling fire.

  “My patient observations were rewarded when I located the nest—composed of blackened stones, and large enough to accommodate many full-grown phoenixes. There were no visible eggs, but the phoenix returned to the nest every night. On one occasion I observed a mountain lion stray into the nest, and the phoenix erupted into a blazing inferno. Though the cougar fought fiercely, claws and teeth flashing, the doomed feline was charred beyond recognition and consumed.

  “I realized that if I was to have a chance against such a fiery opponent, more patience would be required. It took merely two weeks to find the nest, but I waited nearly two months for a respectable rainstorm, conserving my stores and foraging to survive. Rain is not frequent in that arid landscape, but eventually the air grew humid, leaden clouds filled the sky, and water began to fall.

  “I approached the nest warily but with purpose. I did not know when I might get another opportunity to attack in wet conditions. I reached the nest as the downpour intensified, my clothing already soaked. The phoenix glowed faintly, having sought the limited shelter of an overhang, low flames flickering among iridescent plumage. Water pooled at the bottom of the depression.

  “I climbed into the nest and attacked the bird with a spear. The phoenix had its head tucked under a wing and did not sense me coming. I drove the spear in deep, then backed away and began firing arrows.

  “With a wailing screech, the phoenix blazed brighter, gouts of flame issuing from where the spear had penetrated and where the arrows struck. The bird came out from its shelter, and the pouring rain hissed as the droplets were vaporized. Falling back, I continued to launch arrows as the downpour quenched the flames. The phoenix collapsed in the pool, wings flapping feebly, and, with sword drawn, I advanced and severed the head.

  “The bird took on a peculiar glow, as if an inferno raged internally, and then collapsed into flaky ashes. As the pile of ash began to absorb water and turn to sludge, I remembered tales of phoenixes being reborn from their cinders. I gathered an armful of sodden ashes, then hurried to the edge of the nest and scattered them. I repeated the process many times, hurling goopy handfuls in various directions.

  “I wanted to disperse the remains as completely as I could. I packed some of the soggy ashes back to my horse and my donkey, mixed the remnants with their oats, and fed the combination to them. My horse refused to consume much, but the donkey ate with gusto, perhaps because I had not been generous with the feed until that point. In the spirit of camaraderie, and quietly hoping to perhaps derive some benefit, I also ingested some of the ashes.

  “My donkey became sluggish and died the next day. I feared my horse and I might suffer the same fate, but though I endured a debilitating stomachache, we survived. Evidently I scattered the ashes sufficiently, because though the pool at the bottom of the nest turned into boiling sludge, the phoenix was not reborn. I waited several days to be sure. Under the overhang in the nest, I recovered a single magnificent feather, which I display to you now. I declare the threat of the phoenix over and the western waste open to all who care to venture there.”

  Konrad came down from the balcony, and the crowd pressed forward to view the phoenix feather, easily the most impressive of the Legender’s mementos, glinting red and orange with an inner light. True to his word, within a year the king abdicated, replaced by King Konrad, Lord Protector of Selona. In the following years, Lilianna bore him two sons. His daughters grew tall and fair, and the Legender governed well. Selona prospered under his leadership, free from the major threats that had once frightened the populace and frustrated expansion.

  Some might argue that the kingdom prospered too much, for just after Konrad’s eldest daughter, Nadia, celebrated her seventeenth birthday, the Rambling Horde approached Selona. Led by the warlord Kula Bakar, known more commonly as the Dragon, the Rambling Horde had been sacking cities for more than twenty years. Before each conquest, the Dragon gave the targeted kingdom a chance to send a champion to face him in single combat. Thus far, no individual had triumphed against him, and no armies or city walls had withstood his horde.

  More powerful countries than Selona had fallen to the Rambling Horde, so news of the oncoming riders terrified many in the kingdom. But for every person who quailed, another reminded listeners that Selona enjoyed protection no other country possessed. Selona had the Legender.

  When an invitation to combat arrived at the royal palace, King Konrad took the message to his quarters and did not emerge. That evening, Queen Lilianna knocked on his door, and he admitted her. She had never seen her husband looking so disheveled and distraught.

  His wife approached and laid a comforting hand on his arm. “Konrad, surely the warlord of the Rambling Horde is no more deadly than the phoenix, no more fearsome than the vampire, no more ferocious than the yeti, and no more dangerous than the gorgon.”

  “I expect you are right,” Konrad said.

  “Then you will vanquish him in combat?”

  King Konrad dragged both hands through his hair, still thick, but graying. “It is my fondest wish, Lili.”

  “You are still young and str
ong,” Lilianna said. “You slew four legends. Why not a fifth?”

  “I ended four legends,” Konrad said, face contorting as if with pain. “But none know the whole tale.”

  “Tell me,” she said.

  “The stories about me have grown since I first told them. And they were exaggerations from the start, colored by a young man’s fantasies.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I ventured into the swamp to slay the gorgon, it is true. I took the risk; I braved the leeches and the snakes, the quicksand and the spiders. I found the floating hut, empty, abandoned, adrift. Nearby I discovered the stone gorgon and a single quill. The rest of my tale was invention.”

  “You never fought the gorgon?” Lilianna exclaimed.

  “I never saw her alive,” Konrad said. “For all I know, it is possible she never lived. I searched the area until I felt sure there was no threat. I worried that without a fight and a victory, I would not receive my prize, so I embellished.”

  “But you bested the other three foes,” Lilianna said.

  “I searched those mountains for weeks,” Konrad said. “In the end, I found a cave—that much was true. The cave held a tremendous waterfall, large enough to sound like the roars of a yeti. I overcame freezing temperatures and snowy conditions. I approached that roaring, uncertain of what I would find. I came upon a rockfall and a skeleton of what might have been a yeti, from which I claimed a fang. I debunked another legend and I told another story.”

  Lilianna regarded her husband, perplexed. “The vampire?”

  “I saw satyrs and nymphs,” King Konrad said. “I beheld a river troll from a distance. I found the town of Tremonton and Blackthorn Manor, much as I described. The crypt as well. But instead of a vampire, I discovered a sarcophagus full of dust, with the blood-stained stake inside. Who killed the vampire and when, I have no idea. Assuming he ever existed at all.”