by Daniel Heck
As onlookers conclude their congratulations and side discussions and slowly disperse, you are reminded of someone with whom you once faced a dragon, back when it was a much riskier proposition.
I stroll casually toward Whitetail’s official cemetery.
Despite your inner voice urging you to leave good enough alone, you spin the wheel one more time. In the few seconds it takes to start slowing down, the inner voice morphs into a sinking feeling of dread, as the section with the skull creaks closer and closer. Your feet urge you to move… so that maybe it doesn’t point at you when it…
The wheel stops. Panic floods you. You unwittingly gaze straight into the eyes of the humanoid skull, which flash with red flame. It rises from the column. Its jaw flapping wildly, it cackles and charges at you, straight through the air. You dive to the side, but it is too fast. You feel a burning sensation as the skull crushes your chest, then dissolves into the rest of your body, melting muscle and bone alike until even your greedy memory floats among all that is left of you: a revolting pool of elven blood and entrails.
Cruel fate has taken your life! Go back to the beginning of the cavern, or start again entirely.
I need to avoid contact with this supposed ogre chief if I can, you reflect. It’s time to try unlocking this door.
You approach and carefully insert the key into the keyhole. You take a deep breath. Standing as far out of the way as you can, just in case, you turn the key; the cylinders fall into place with a loud click.
Without your needing to pull on the handle, the door swings open by a few inches, propelled by its own weight and a strange breeze coming from the other side.
Phew!
But what lies beyond?
You hesitate for an instant, but both the math and your understanding of the judging urge you onward, to get the easier pair of tokens in hopes of crossing the finish line as soon as possible.
It wouldn’t be much of a race if the finishing order didn’t matter!
You tug toward you on the reins and dig your heel into your dragon’s right hip.
“Jerrelin! Special maneuver Stratus!”
She nods in acknowledgement, then cranes her neck backwards, executing a graceful midair somersault. Blood rushes to your cheeks as your hair whips around in a fully inverted cascade.
Exhilaration almost causes you to forget to grab the tokens, but they’re so close by that you don’t even need your net. You touch all four with ease and they clank one by one, symbolically yours. Celestine and you are neck-and-neck heading into the final turn.
“It’s almost over, folks!” the barker shouts from below, “Which rider will prevail in the end? It’s too close to call!”
You spur your dragon onward, tensing all your muscles, and feel its nose pierce the finish line ribbon. Jerrelin shakes off the pink-and-blue decoration’s many frills as you guide her toward the landing mesa, where the crowd cheers voraciously.
“Titania crosses first!” the barker shouts.
You grin and beam at the many onlookers jostling to shake your hand and pat you on the back. “I never thought I could do that in an eon’s worth of years!” you confess humbly. Celestine lands soon after, and although she doesn’t seem terribly disappointed, you embrace her.
“I’m thrilled for you!” she proclaims with genuine mirth.
The barker allows just enough time for the other riders to finish their runs, consults one last time with the three judges (all tall elves dressed in snappy white formals) then hastily gathers everyone in a circle, clears his throat and begins the prize ceremony:
“I hereby declare this dragon regatta a rousing success!” he booms. The crowd cheers and hollers.
“After totaling the scores for tokens, style and order of finish, we have our official top three finishers, who shall each receive a considerable sum of money. The overall winner, however, receives a quite special prize in addition: He or she will be whisked away to visit the draconic homeland itself!”
You gasp, and your jaw hangs open. Unbelievable! Several onlookers nudge you, nod and grin, seeming to think you’ve assured yourself of an amazing journey yet to come.
“In third place,” continues the barker, “is our orcblood friend Galumnuk!”
This announcement, in contrast, receives only a polite smattering of applause. Galumnuk grins and waves anyway.
All these years, you reflect, and Ambrosinia still hasn’t gotten over its fears. Poor guy…
“In second place, Celestine Lillimarsh of Whitetail!” Your elf friend steps upon the barker’s platform and graciously accepts her prize with a handshake and a curtsy.
“Wait a minute…” you blurt, “that means…”
“And our winner, an illustrious figure within Ambrosinian history and former mayoress of Sungaze. She helped bring the nation’s economy back around from the brink of disaster, and now she’s brought about one of the most thrilling finishes I’ve seen in any race of any kind! Ladies and gentlemen, Titania Vermouth!”
You beam with pride as you step toward the barker. The crowd cheers and hollers in unabashed joy.
“Thank you so much!” you shout over the din.
“Our wondrous royal courier Vanadu,” the barker continues as he indicates a deep-blue dragon standing at the ready nearby, “will be at your service tomorrow morning at dawn.”
You point at the dragon. “So soon? To take me to the homelands?”
Vanadu bows its head in reverence and incants, “Indeed, milady.”
You’ve heard of the legendary dragon homeland and that it is flush with the most exotic, colorful and intricate geography and wildlife that has ever existed, but also that no humanoid has ever before been allowed to set foot there.
You nod toward Vanadu and reply, “I am honored. I will rest well tonight, knowing we will meet here tomorrow.”
Vanadu nods again, then launches himself into the air. You congratulate Celestine and Galumnuk on their strong finishes.
“Tell me every detail afterward!” Celestine commands in a playful tone.
Skipping toward home with little care for how others see you, you revel in your victory and can hardly focus on packing rations and supplies, even as the crowd slowly disperses and goes about their normal business. That is, until a twinge of lingering doubt grows once again within you, about humanity’s newfound relationship with dragons in general:
Bartleby died a horrific death because of one silly error on the part of a dragon… would he approve of all this? Is it just a complete disrespect of his memory?
You halt, and remind yourself with solemn heart:
He would also preach the value of forgiveness.
That evening at your treehouse home in the City of Storms, you casually lay Bartleby’s sun talisman, the last symbolic remnant of his wisdom and kindness, on a side table near your bed, face-up. Solemnity soon gives way to excitement once again, to the point where you can barely rest. Just when you are finally drifting away, as moonbeams shine through your window from high above, you think you hear a shuffling from somewhere nearby, but quickly dismiss it, as you often hear such noises from nighttime wildlife. Over the next several hours, your dreams flood your soul with wonderment and anticipation.
How exciting!
Despite your inner voice urging you to leave good enough alone, you spin the wheel one more time. In the few seconds it takes to start slowing down, the inner voice morphs into a sinking feeling of dread, as the section with the skull creaks closer and closer. Your feet urge you to move… so that maybe it doesn’t point at you when it…
The wheel stops. Panic floods you. You unwittingly gaze straight into the eyes of the humanoid skull, which flash with red flame. It rises from the column. Its jaw flapping wildly, it cackles and charges at you, straight through the air. You dive to the side, but it is too fast. You feel a burning sensation as the skull crushes your chest, then dissolves into the rest of your body, melting muscle and bone alike until even your greedy memory floats among all that i
s left of you: a revolting pool of elven blood and entrails.
Cruel fate has taken your life! Go back to the beginning of the cavern, or start again entirely.
What do you do?
I spin the wheel lightly.
I spin the wheel hard.
I leave the chamber.
You investigate the declining passage. Within a few yards, it abruptly ends in a roughly diamond-shaped room. The corners are rounded by age and wear; shards of stone and brick lay out of place in a multitude of dusty piles. A puddle in a far corner fosters immense amounts of moss and lichen. Two of the walls display banners inscribed with images of weaponry; their edges hang frayed and disheveled. Feeling cautious as you step forward, your torchlight illuminates a cylindrical column in the chamber’s exact center.
You look closer. The column extends about halfway to the low ceiling, and on top sits a wheel. Someone has engraved the outline of an arrow such that it wraps around the base of the wheel, pointing counter-clockwise.
Your light reflects off several items on top of the wheel. Black lines divide the rough wooden circle into fourths. Upon one section sits a pair of demure leather boots; upon another, a scroll, tied with red twine. A third section holds a large, rusted key. You think,
Could that open the door I encountered earlier?
Finally, the fourth section holds a skull. Grayed-over and ancient, it looks human in build, although it’s missing a few molars, and the eye sockets appear unusually small.
Curious, you slowly reach toward the key, and grip it. When you pick it up from the wheel, though, the key only moves an inch or so before you feel unseen force tug it back downward.
Magical. Of course.
You glance again at the arrow at the base.
Am I supposed to spin it in order to get these items?
Look up at the nearest digital clock and make note of the tens digit within the minutes of the current time, then follow the corresponding link below.
That digit is 0 or 5.
That digit is 1 or 3.
That digit is 2 or 4.
Look up at the nearest digital clock and make note of the tens digit within the minutes of the current time, then follow the corresponding link below.
That digit is 0 or 1.
That digit is 2 or 3.
That digit is 4 or 5.
Questions bubble up within you as to why someone would set up such a contraption here. After several moments, you decide to indulge your adventurous side. You grip the wheel by its edge. The wooden surface feels rough to the touch, and you nearly wedge a splinter in your finger when judging the wheel’s mass. You take a deep breath in.
Upon exhaling, you push with about half the strength you think you could. The wheel spins, but the objects somehow stay in place. You shift about from foot to foot, but when you try to step away in case your position influences the outcome, you feel an unseen force pull your foot back to the ground.
Whatever this all means, you ponder, it sure is complicated.
Despite the wheel’s age and construction, it makes no sound at all as the spinning begins to slow down. The perimeter inches around, around… a little bit more, and a little more…
Finally, the wheel stops. The section with the scroll on top faces you directly, and now glows with a haunting blue hue.
Glancing around and feeling a tad incredulous, you reach out toward the scroll with care, and pick it up. The magic binding it to the wheel has evidently released.
You place a finger to your chin. Intriguing…
You untie the twine binding the parchment and, without saying anything aloud, examine the scroll. It contains only one word. You ponder its meaning, then place the scroll in your pack.
Now, why not try to get more?
Write down the keyword SCROLL, if you haven’t already.
What do you do next?
I spin the wheel lightly.
I spin the wheel hard.
Figuring that it’s possible some adventurer put these here to help others coming through the area, you gingerly grip the wheel and spin again. It starts to slow down almost immediately…
Look up again at the nearest digital timepiece, this time making note of the ones digit within the minutes of the current time, then follow the corresponding link below.
That digit is 4 or less.
That digit is 5 or greater.
You return to the main chamber, where you re-evaluate your options.
I enter the ascending passage again.
I try to open the door to the left.
I examine the door first.
You quickly decide that you can’t possibly reach the main target without taking Celestine down.
Your elf friend whirls about from stance to stance with dexterity you hadn’t known she possessed. Forcing you to turn around and lose your orientation, she lands a sucker punch to your kidneys, knocking you down yet again. You turn onto your back and deflect a kick, then execute a perfect leg sweep. Celestine tumbles to the ground with a shout, now barely able to prop herself up on all fours.
You rear back with the Shield of Dragon Might.
“I am sorry for this.”
With a mighty swing you bring the shield’s spikeless lower edge down upon the back of her head. The sickening thud is followed by a pained groan, and her body crumples into an unconscious heap within the wet grass.
You rejoin Galumnuk, who has landed even more cuts but bleeds profusely himself. The orcblood now has Bartleby locked in an arm-bar, but Thomerion’s possession struggles mightily, wrestling and writhing while trying to cast dark spells.
Just as Bartleby frees an arm, you shout, “Face him in my direction!”
Wincing as he absorbs hard kicks to the legs, the orcblood redoubles his grip and rotates the body so its charred, disfigured chest practically has a target painted on it.
“Here goes nothing!” you shout.
You issue the shield its mystical command word. Instantly the largest spike, as big as your fist and longer by many inches, launches toward Bartleby, piercing him flush in the heart.
Thomerion screams a blood-curdling scream as Galumnuk lets the body fall, dead yet again. A purple spirit image with a dagger piercing its skull emerges, floating slowly from Bartleby’s head, which the prairie winds then disperse into eternity.
I need to come back here eventually to retrieve my love, you assert to yourself, but these two are hurt bad.
You soon determine that your party’s dragons chased off the steel-gray one, and you recruit two of them to haul your friends back to the Whitetail medical ward. While helping you secure Celestine securely to the saddle crossways, Galumnuk professes he’s feeling lightheaded from blood loss.
Having won but feeling physically defeated, you rest for a day before returning the dragon relics to their original owners. You visit Celestine regularly, but she stays comatose. The medicine men diagnose that she’s been severely concussed, to the point where even when or if she wakes up, she won’t likely remember much of what happened, or possibly even who and where she is.
You were so kind to me during the dragon regatta… you think as you hold her hand tenderly… and long before, as well.
You recite one of Bartleby’s favorite prayers, while somehow, the knowledge that you prevented further destruction throughout the country strikes you as little consolation.
Further, when you return to the Moonbow Arch, the body of Bartleby has completely disappeared.
Might Thomerion strike yet again?
At this thought, you put a fist to your heart in somber trepidation.
You have rid Ambrosinia of Thomerion’s wrath!
But is there more to the story?
Keep reading for more alternate endings.
Despite your inner voice urging you to leave good enough alone, you spin the wheel one more time. In the few seconds it takes to start slowing down, the inner voice morphs into a sinking feeling of dread, as the section with the skull creaks closer and close
r. Your feet urge you to move… so that maybe it doesn’t point at you when it…
The wheel stops. Panic floods you. You unwittingly gaze straight into the eyes of the humanoid skull, which flash with red flame. It rises from the column. Its jaw flapping wildly, it cackles and charges at you, straight through the air. You dive to the side, but it is too fast. You feel a burning sensation as the skull crushes your chest, then dissolves into the rest of your body, melting muscle and bone alike until even your greedy memory floats among all that is left of you: a revolting pool of elven blood and entrails.
Cruel fate has taken your life! Go back to the beginning of the cavern, or start again entirely.
Figuring that it’s possible some adventurer put these here to help others coming through the area, you gingerly grip the wheel and spin again. It starts to slow down almost immediately…
Look up again at the nearest digital timepiece, this time making note of the ones digit within the minutes of the current time, then follow the corresponding link below.
That digit is odd.
That digit is even, including zero.
Figuring that these items might go hand-in-hand, you summon even more courage and spin the wheel again, with fervor.
Look up again at the nearest digital timepiece, this time making note of the ones digit within the minutes of the current time, then follow the corresponding link below.