Champion of the Titan Games

by Brandon Mull

  “Yes, but we lost Cyllia,” Kendra said. “The others are fine.”

  “Tragic,” Vanessa said. “Cyllia seemed stalwart. Her death is a loss. Seth found you?”

  “I’m here,” Seth said.

  “He and Merek saved us,” Kendra reported. “Now we’re off to see what this Harp can do. Warren and Tanu are coming behind us.”

  “Don’t wait,” Vanessa urged. “Go. I haven’t heard any dragons yet, but I expect they’re coming. Or lying in wait. Take care.”

  “I’ll sense them,” Raxtus said.

  They raced through the mirror maze on foot. Raxtus became frustrated as he led them into a couple of dead ends, but before long, the group was flying toward the temple’s entrance. Raxtus landed just before the hall ended.

  “Lots of dragons outside,” Raxtus whispered.

  “The entrance is closed now,” Seth whispered. “It was open when we came through.”

  “It probably closed when the storm ended,” Raxtus said. “But I can smell and hear dragons on the far side.”

  After searching the end of the hall, Merek demonstrated how the removal of a stone block exposed a lever. Placing a hand on the lever, Merek whispered, “Raxtus, become your avatar. It should let you avoid the effects of the Harp.”

  The sparkly dragon gave a nod and took the shape of a young male fairy, about the height of Kendra’s knee.

  Merek looked surprised. “Your avatar is a fairy?” he whispered.

  Raxtus shrugged.

  Merek looked at Kendra. She held up the Harp, and Merek pantomimed playing it. Kendra took a deep breath. She hoped the instrument really was foolproof. What if she struck a sour chord and a bunch of dragons stormed in and devoured them?

  Kendra strummed her hand over the strings, producing a lovely glissando. Merek pulled the lever, and, with a deep grinding, a stone slab slid inward. Merek motioned for Kendra to strum again, and she complied.

  The Dragon Slayer held up both hands, gesturing for them to wait, then flew out of the opening. Kendra held her breath for a long, tense moment until his voice called, “Come on out!”

  After exiting, Kendra paused to absorb the scene. In a loose semicircle around the entryway, a dozen huge dragons lay fast asleep. Kendra stepped forward gingerly.

  “Can we prevent them from following us?” Seth whispered.

  “Leave them,” Merek said. “These will slumber for more than a week. And since they are already subdued, it would be dishonorable to harm them. Let’s go see how Titan Valley has fared. Kendra, remember, if dragons get near, Raxtus will land and become his avatar, and you strum that Harp. There is no limit to how often you can use it.”

  “It’s so powerful,” Seth said, still surveying the unconscious dragons.

  “It’s the single greatest limited-range weapon against dragons ever devised,” Merek said. “Few items in existence are more potent.”

  Jumping and flapping his wings, Merek shot into the air. Seth followed, and Raxtus transformed into his dragon shape and lifted Kendra. The box canyon and the slumbering dragons fell away beneath her, and a vista of the mountainous region unfolded. Had Bernosh really traversed these rocky slopes, perilous cliffs, and deep canyons on foot?

  “Dragons at two o’clock,” Raxtus announced.

  “I see them,” Merek replied. “Sharp eyes. Those are far off. We went from an abundance of clouds to scant options for cover. Let’s fly low.”

  Raxtus, Seth, and Merek hugged the terrain, staying well below the surrounding summits, often dipping into ravines or swooping across clearings at heights lower than the treetops. The combination of high speed and tight turns kept Kendra on edge. Several times she lifted her legs, worried they would hit branches, but Raxtus always maneuvered with sufficient skill to make her precautions unnecessary.

  When the wilderness gave way to farmland, Raxtus, Seth, and Merek skimmed along just above fields, some flat, some furrowed, staying lower than windmills, barns, and even haystacks. Before long, they began to pass the charred skeletons of buildings adjoining scorched acreage. Occasionally, farmhouses or rows of crops were still burning.

  “Dragons,” Merek proclaimed, pointing.

  Kendra spied a small yellow dragon and a larger, horned one diving toward them from off to one side. Raxtus abruptly landed and shrank into a fairy. Merek and Seth alighted beside Kendra. She readied the Harp, hand poised above the strings, but Merek held up a hand to stall her. As the dragons swooped near enough that their mouths opened to use their breath weapons, Merek gave a signal, and Kendra strummed the instrument. Both dragons immediately went limp, heads sagging, and dropped out of the air, sliding and bouncing over the flat ground before flopping awkwardly to a halt.

  “Quick,” Merek said, leaping into the air.

  Raxtus changed back into a dragon, gripped Kendra, and took off. Not far ahead, they reached rolling terrain, allowing them to weave around the hillsides, out of view. When they ran into a gray dragon with horns like a ram, Raxtus landed and became a fairy, and Kendra ran her fingers over the harp strings. The dragon fell heavily, wings splayed.

  “Beacon Hill, dead ahead,” Raxtus said a few minutes after they returned to the air.

  Merek, Seth, and Raxtus flew low up the slope of the tall hill, landing just shy of the summit. Raxtus immediately shrank into a fairy. “Just in case,” he said.

  Kendra ran with the others to the hilltop, then paused to absorb the sight. As they stood on the highest point for miles around, the panorama from the top left Kendra stunned by the massive destruction underway. Flying low had prevented her from witnessing the extent of the onslaught. Turning in a full circle, Kendra observed that more than half of the visible countryside had burned or was burning. Smoke obscured much of the sky, and ashes fluttered like snowflakes. Long lines of dragons flew wing to wing, heads down, torching the landscape.

  In the distance Kendra saw Terastios, where the demolition appeared most concentrated. Lightning crackled and flames billowed. The fortress was already in blackened ruins, and yet the dragons seemed determined to see it utterly razed.

  “In all my years, I’ve not seen this behavior from dragons,” Merek said soberly. “They will fight and hunt and kill. They will despoil a castle or a town. They will go to war. But I have never beheld dragons systematically obliterating the natural world. Even the vilest dragons I have known respect resources. They preserve game to hunt and a wilderness to live in. This is a crime against nature. Wasteful to the point of suicidal.”

  “There is much anger about the conditions at Titan Valley,” Raxtus said.

  “Then fight the giants,” Merek replied. “Not the forests and the fields.”

  “I agree,” Raxtus said sadly.

  “Heads up,” Seth said.

  A group of the nearest dragons had broken from their firestorm formation and were gliding directly toward Beacon Hill. Merek took cover behind some bushes, and Kendra followed his lead.

  “They’ve spotted us,” Merek said. “Kendra, ready the Harp, but wait until the last possible moment. I did not envision so many dragons. I count hundreds. I never saw a host like this in all of the dragon war.”

  “They’re coming right at us,” Seth warned.

  “Patience, Kendra,” Merek said.

  Glancing up, Kendra counted nine dragons approaching the hilltop. She kept her hand near the harp strings.

  “Now,” Merek said.

  Kendra slid her hand over the strings, producing a beautiful glissando, and dragons promptly littered the hillside. From all directions, dragons began veering their way.

  “Please let them gather here,” Merek said. “Putting big groups to sleep is our best hope. Kendra, stay ready.”

  The next wave of oncoming dragons landed before reaching the hill. Dozens were gathering. A few dragons flew away in various directions.

  �
��They’re sending messengers,” Raxtus warned.

  The dragons who landed began transforming into their human avatars. The incoming dragons changed shape as soon as they landed. Dozens of avatars started marching to Beacon Hill from all sides.

  “The Harp won’t work on their avatars,” Kendra said.

  “How many of them can you defeat?” Seth asked Merek.

  “In their human form?” he asked. “Four at my leisure. Probably six if they make mistakes. More are coming. We will be squaring off against hundreds.”

  “Do we fly away?” Kendra asked.

  “Too many have spotted us,” Merek said. “They know we have the Harp, which makes us the most valuable targets at this sanctuary. If we leave, they will follow at a distance. When we land, we’ll be in the same circumstance. There are too many of them. They could take shifts, wear us out. If we have a card to play, now is the time.”

  “What can we do?” Kendra asked.

  “Seth,” Merek said. “It’s time.”

  Seth nodded. “Kendra, I need the Harp.”

  “Why?” Kendra asked.

  “There is something I need to do while we can,” Seth said. “Before Celebrant or anyone else can do it.”

  “What?” Kendra asked.

  Seth held out a hand. “I’ll show you.”

  Kendra gave her brother the Harp.

  Seth accepted it. Men and women, all of them dragon avatars, were charging up the hill. Dozens more dragons converged from all directions. There was no other option. If they failed to act, they would lose the Harp, and Celebrant might figure out how to gain the Wizenstone.

  Seth knelt and set the Unforgiving Blade against the first string of the Harp.

  “What are you doing?” Kendra cried.

  Merek grabbed her from behind, holding her as she struggled.

  “This is necessary,” Seth said.

  “He’s right,” Merek confirmed. “Let him do it. We’re sacrificing something great for something better.”

  Seth pressed the dark blade against the golden string, and, for the first time since he had started using the knife, something resisted the edge. The string refused to break. Bracing one hand against the top of the Harp, Seth pushed harder with the long knife, and it jerkily cut through the first two strings, making a pair of ugly twangs, before stopping against the third.

  “This is hard,” Seth said.

  “Hurry,” Merek encouraged.

  Seth forced the blade forward, strings making tortured sounds as they parted in ones and twos. Soon only one remained. As Seth added pressure, the last string snapped with a discordant clang that sank into the earth and sprang into the sky.

  Seth no longer knelt on a hilltop.

  The Harp was gone.

  He still held the Unforgiving Blade, but he knelt on a marble floor in a light and airy room of modern design, as if severing the final harp string had altered reality. Seth stared in confusion at a white grand piano, chrome fixtures and furnishings, and oversized windows.

  “Congratulations,” a voice spoke from behind.

  Seth knew the voice. Standing and turning, he faced Humbuggle. The dwarf grinned hugely.

  “Where are my friends?” Seth asked.

  “Right where you left them,” Humbuggle said.

  “Will they be all right?” Seth asked.

  “That is up to them,” Humbuggle said. “And partly up to you.”

  “Where are we?” Seth asked. “Humburgh?”

  “No, my boy, this is my treasury,” Humbuggle said. “It’s where I keep the good stuff. Nobody knows the location.”

  “I cut the harp strings,” Seth said, holding up the Unforgiving Blade.

  “My compliments,” Humbuggle said with a bow. “You are the champion of the Titan Games.” Almost as an afterthought, he threw a handful of sparkly confetti.

  “The Games are over?” Seth asked.

  “That is up to you,” Humbuggle said. “But you have indeed won the Wizenstone. Shall we adjourn to the relevant treasure room?”

  “How much treasure do you have here?” Seth asked.

  “Plenty,” Humbuggle said. “But all my other riches combined do not approach the value of the Wizenstone. Come.”

  Humbuggle led Seth to an elevator.

  “You have electricity here?” Seth asked as he stepped inside.

  “All of the modern conveniences,” Humbuggle said. “This is where I do most of my actual living. The manor in Humburgh is primarily for show. I prefer refrigerators, hot showers, the indoor saltwater pool, my theater room—the good life.”

  Humbuggle pressed the bottommost button, labeled B3. The elevator started down.

  “Seven floors?” Seth asked, checking the buttons.

  “Six with natural light,” Humbuggle said. “My treasury is built into a hillside. I didn’t expect you to win so quickly. I thought it would be another seven years before you could access the Dragon Temple.”

  “We worked fast,” Seth said. “My sister helped.”

  The elevator doors slid apart, and Humbuggle led Seth down a short, carpeted hallway. A single door awaited at the end of the hall. Humbuggle opened it with a snap of his fingers, revealing a pristine room where a white pedestal sat upon a red platform. Atop the pedestal rested a multifaceted gemstone the size of a baseball. The crystalline jewel contained scintillating refractions of all conceivable colors.

  The sparsely decorated room also housed a few exotic potted plants and a wooden treasure chest that looked like it belonged aboard an old pirate ship. A piece of cubist art hung on one wall, and an impressionistic painting adorned another.

  “Are those paintings originals?” Seth asked.

  “Only the best,” Humbuggle said. “A Picasso and a Van Gogh. Neither painting is known to the mortal art community. I acquired them directly from the artists, years ago.”

  Seth looked at the intricately cut jewel on the pedestal. “The Wizenstone is mine?”

  “You have won the stone,” Humbuggle said. “It is yours for the taking.”

  Seth had seen others disintegrate when they tried to take the Wizenstone. He knew the transfer of ownership would be more complicated than Humbuggle made it sound.

  The treasure chest shuddered, then bounced a little. Seth shuffled a couple of steps away from it.

  “What’s in the box?” Seth asked.

  “An alternate prize, if you prefer it over the stone,” Humbuggle said.

  “Do I have to choose without knowing the contents?” Seth asked.

  “No, my boy,” Humbuggle said. “The box contains your memories.”

  Seth stared at the dwarf.

  “You surrendered them voluntarily,” Humbuggle said. “If you would prefer being united with your memories to claiming the Wizenstone, I am offering the option.”

  “What will happen to the Wizenstone if I choose my memories?” Seth asked.

  “It would remain in my care,” Humbuggle said. “And I would organize new contests.”

  Seth sighed. “Can I think about this for a moment?”

  “Outside, the world is burning down,” Humbuggle said. “In here, we have all the time you like.”

  Seth went and sat on the red platform near the pedestal. He looked at the dark blade in his hand. He could use it to kill the dwarf. Would he get the Wizenstone and his memories? Would he stop the Games forever? Free all the captive contestants?

  Seth stared at Humbuggle.

  “You see a third option,” Humbuggle said.

  “Maybe,” Seth replied.

  “I’m unarmed,” Humbuggle said. “But I’m very powerful.”

  “Yeah,” Seth said. “And I’m pretty sure you’re not telling me the whole truth.”

  “Tell you what,” Humbuggle said. “I’ll officially give you a third o
ption. If you want to strike me down, I won’t stop you. Few things could kill me, but that blade would do the job. I’ve been at this for a long time, Seth. If you want to slay me and accept what comes, that is also on the table.”

  “Do you have a death wish?” Seth asked.

  The dwarf looked at the Van Gogh, a sun rising over a field of haystacks. “You know how life can be. I am weary. There are burdens I would like to set down.”

  “Can we talk it through?” Seth asked.

  “Be my guest,” Humbuggle said.

  “Celebrant is after the Wizenstone,” Seth said. “I sacrificed one of our best weapons against the dragons to win it. If I come away without the Wizenstone, we lose a vital talisman and gain nothing. Plus, I leave the door open for Celebrant to get the stone.”

  “I hear you,” Humbuggle said.

  “If I try to claim the stone, I probably turn to dust,” Seth said.

  “You’ve seen it happen to others,” Humbuggle remarked.

  Seth studied the dark blade. “And if I . . .”

  “Kill me?” Humbuggle finished.

  “Yeah, that. Maybe I get my memories back and the Wizenstone. I wouldn’t have to take the Wizenstone to keep it. It would be mine to watch over. How would that even work? You can protect it because you know how to use it. I don’t have a clue.”

  “There are no easy answers,” Humbuggle said.

  Seth stood up. “What I want most is my memories, but I can’t take them and leave the problem of the Wizenstone unsolved. A bunch of people got me here, and I can’t let them down. And I can’t just kill you. Maybe in a fight, or to protect somebody, but not like this. So I’m going to have to go with the Wizenstone.”

  “Good luck,” Humbuggle said.

  Seth walked over to the pedestal. He remembered how the black stone that held the Unforgiving Blade had served as a window into true darkness—by contrast the jewel before him gleamed like a window into realms of light. The longer he stared, the more deeply absorbed he became.

  Seth blinked his eyes and shook his head to clear it. This beautiful jewel of light had been corrupted and used for evil. He raised the Unforgiving Blade high and brought it down on the Wizenstone. The long knife cleaved through the stone and cut halfway down the white pedestal. A blazing flash of pain raced up Seth’s arm to his shoulder, and he lost hold of the knife as the separate halves of the Wizenstone fell from the pedestal to the red platform, inner light extinguished. Seth’s sword arm hung limply at his side, completely numb. With his left hand, he withdrew the Unforgiving Blade from the cloven pedestal.