Crazell sensed the hopefulness in his voice during his last sentence.
“I can’t do that anymore.”
He gave a solemn nod. “The only other options are to be killed in battle or to lose.”
“Even if I merely lose, there will still be challengers.”
“Fewer,” he said, “but yeah.”
There was more at stake than Crazell’s future, and she felt obligated to make sure that Ricky and his family would be okay.
“And if I lose, your family…”
“Will be fine,” Ricky finished for her. “We took a dragon through twenty-four straight bouts in the biggest dragon championship in the world. Plus, we’ve got a lot of up-and-coming fighters who are doing great.” He motioned to her. “None of them are you, Craz, but it only takes one to be good enough.”
Crazell nodded. That much was true. Sure, she’d be a legend in the sport, but her record would stand for a long time, and the Schmickys were a part of that legacy.
Still…
“There is another option, Ricky.”
“What?”
“I could go into hiding.”
He looked even sadder than before.
“We could win this last one for you and your family,” she pressed on. “I would then find a remote place to call home, have my jewels shipped there, and hire a bunch of sentries and bodyguards to keep me from being disturbed.”
“Some would still get through, Craz.”
“Yes, but it would be infrequent and they would have to get past many obstacles first.”
“So what are you saying?”
She looked away from him, scanning the room that had served as hers for nearly 250 years. After today, it would be nothing but a memory. A good one, mostly, but a memory nonetheless.
“Just that I see no other way around this but to win, aside from actually dying,” she answered with a whisper, “and I honestly don’t think that a former giant can manage that feat.”
UDFC 99 Runner Up
Payne was in a room with her cameraperson and the runner-up from UDFC 99. The interview was being filmed live, showing all over the Underworld, on the Undernet, and on the big screens in the arena.
The man she was interviewing was named Sir Yalky Trulane. He was a former knight from the land of Metrian.
Sir Trulane was still wearing the outfit that he’d worn during his battle against Crazell ten years ago. It appeared quite burnt.
At least he had taken the helmet off.
“I’m talking with Sir Yalky Trulane,” Payne said to the camera. “He’s been allowed out of the Afterlife’s agnostics area for this interview. Good day to you, Sir Trulane.”
“Hello.”
“First off, I notice that you are still wearing the outfit that you fought Crazell in ten years ago.”
He adjusted in his chair. “It’s a constant reminder of what happened, yes.”
“Yet, you are in the Afterlife now. You clearly no longer have to think about things such as this.” She then raised a finger. “In fact, you’re in the agnostic’s area, which means you can essentially do whatever you want.”
“I can’t help it,” he said, licking his lips. “I have been in therapy sessions ever since that fateful day.” His eyes glazed over. “I have dreams. Terrible dreams.”
“Oh. Well, we wouldn’t want—”
“It’s the same every time,” he said in a voice laced with dread. “I’m at a campsite. I’m very tiny and I’m in a plastic bag along with a bunch of other knights.” His breathing was erratic. “Some snot-nosed little brat reaches into the bag and takes me out. He then shoves me onto a stick and puts me over the fire.”
Payne gave the camera a look that she assumed would resonate with everyone watching. Chances were that they were all thinking the same thing she was.
“That’s…uh…strange.”
“Can’t you see what it means?”
“Uh…”
“I’m a marshmallow,” he blurted. “I’m a blasted marshmallow!”
“Yes, I get that,” Payne replied in a calm voice. “What I don’t understand is the correlation to UDFC 99?”
“Because Crazell shot fire at me,” Sir Trulane shrieked. He was pouring with sweat. “I was trapped in this suit. This damnable suit.” He wiped his brow. “One instant I was seeking glory, demonstrating my ability on the field of battle…” He looked away. “The next instant, I was turned into a marshmallow by that infernal dragon.”
Payne never quite understood why knights wore their armor when fighting dragons. It wasn’t like it would help. If anything, based on the evidence seated in front of her, it’d do just the opposite.
“Right.” She had to recover from this, somehow. “Well, I, uh…. Do you have any advice for Crazell’s challenger?”
He nodded, though his eyes were unfocused.
“Throw in the towel before the fight and don’t wear metal armor. It does nothing against a dragon but turn you into a portable stove.”
You Can Do It!
Whizzfiddle was proud and frightened at knowing that his apprentice was about to go toe to toe with Crazell.
How did this even happen?
Gungren wasn’t supposed to get this far. Actually, he should never have been involved with this at all. If Whizzfiddle could have just kept his big mouth shut, they would be going after the Diamond of Jaloof instead.
He thumbed the stone that he’d put into his pocket.
The fact was that they would have ended up following Teggins to the event anyway. But even that would be better than Gungren having to actually compete.
“How are you doing, Gungren?” he asked in a caring tone.
“I are okay.”
“I am okay,” he corrected halfheartedly.
“Of course you am okay,” Gungren said. “You ain’t got to fight no dragon.”
“Right.” Whizzfiddle sighed. “Look, I want to tell you something before you go out there.”
“All right.”
“Eloquen, may we have a moment alone, please?”
The elf began saying, “The cranium moves…” but he stopped when he clearly noticed that Whizzfiddle was not in the mood for his floweriness. “I’ll be outside.”
“Thank you.”
As soon as the elf left, Whizzfiddle took a deep breath. This wasn’t the kind of conversation he was comfortable with, but he felt that it needed to happen.
“Gungren, I’m not one to get all mushy, so know that this is not something I say lightly.”
“Okay.”
“When we first met, I thought you were the biggest pain in the rump I’d ever met,” he said seriously. “You were belligerent, obstinate, nagging, and just downright difficult.”
“I are feeling better already, Master. Thanks.”
Whizzfiddle pushed forward. “Over the course of our time together, you have become like the son I never had. You’ve got the kindest heart I’ve ever come to know, especially for a wizard, and that’s saying something.”
“That nice to hear,” Gungren said as he wiped his nose.
“The point of this is that I don’t wish to lose you today, Gungren,” Whizzfiddle said as he folded his arms. “You are too good of a person to be extinguished over something this silly. You have more than proved yourself worthy of being a full-fledged wizard. Doing this battle is not only foolish, it’s unnecessary.”
Gungren sat there nodding. He wasn’t looking at Whizzfiddle, but rather at the floor. His face was drawn and he was obviously very tired.
“Master, you know me better than anyone,” he said finally. “I know that I can get my wizard thing without finishing this, but I made a committing thing.”
“Commitment.”
“That the one.” He cleared his throat. “If I give up now, then I not keeping my commitment to finish the Fate Quest. If I not keep that, then I go back on my word.”
Whizzfiddle’s master would have said, “Word schmerd!” or something to that effect, but Wh
izzfiddle was not like his master. He agreed with Gungren’s stance on this. Money was not what made a person, it was their word that mattered.
“Now that I understand, Gungren,” he admitted. “A person is nothing if they don’t uphold that which they have agreed to doing, as long as new information does not arise that counters what they had originally agreed to, of course.”
“What?”
“Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” He sat down and hung his head. “I guess there is no use trying to talk you out of this?”
“Sorry, Master.”
“Better to die as the man you are than to live as the one you are not.”
“It a hard fight, too,” Gungren said after a few moments of silence.
“Yes, that dragon is fierce.”
“Yeah, that too, but I were talking about fighting from letting the giant come back.” He looked at Whizzfiddle with strained eyes. “I want to pick up rocks so bad, Master.”
“If Crazell gets the better of you, it may not matter anyway.”
“That true, but I gonna try not to die.” Gungren started stretching. “Also, I try not to kill that dragon, too.”
“I know, Gungren.” And he did. Gungren was just too kind of a person to ever want to permanently injure anyone. “I just hope she feels the same way about you.”
Sorry, Who Is This Again?
Bank rushed into the office while holding a piece of paper. He shoved it into Stillwell’s hands and began pacing.
Stillwell opened the paper and read it. A thin smile crept across his face. He fought to keep it in check.
“So Teggins was arrested, was he?”
“That’s what it says,” answered Bank. “Got caught cheating.”
“Well, that’s a shame.”
“He’s gonna be calling you soon to get his lawyer, temporary-boss.”
“Yes, I would imagine so.”
Bank was clearly finding this news very upsetting. Stillwell probably should have as well, but his gut was telling him it was a good thing, and so far his gut had been doing quite well with predictions.
It was time to start flexing those muscles again.
“Do you feel I’ve treated you fairly over the last couple of days, Bank?”
“Huh?” He stopped pacing, looked around, and then nodded. “Sure, I guess. Better than the boss does.”
“And do you think the other fellas feel the same way?”
“They’re already saying so,” Bank replied. “You’ve been treating everybody decently.”
Stillwell didn’t want to ask this next question, but he did anyway.
“Even the ladies?”
“Yep. They’re happy ‘cause you said you was gonna talk to the boss about equal pay and all that.” Bank pointed at him. “The ogres are happy about that equal pay stuff too, by the way.”
“That’s good to hear.” He clasped his fingers together and rested his chin on them. “What would happen if we refused to help Teggins, Bank?”
“We?”
“Okay, me.”
“He’d kill you.”
“Right, right, I know about that. But wouldn’t he be away for a long time?”
“Ahhhh, I see,” Bank said cautiously. “He’d likely get twenty years for what he’s done. But when he got out, he’d kill you.”
That was a long time for Teggins to be in the slammer. If Stillwell played his cards correctly, he could make it so that Teggins had no ammunition when he was released.
He’d be nothing.
One thing that Stillwell had learned over these last couple of days was that money talks.
“I’m sure over the course of twenty years that we, as a team, could determine a way to stop that eventuality, no?”
It took a few seconds, but Bank finally began to smile.
“Yeah, we could.”
“Especially if there was the promised continuance of better treatment, more pay, and possibly even profit-sharing?”
“What about dental and vision?” Bank said, moving into negotiation mode.
“I’m sure that can be arranged.”
“And maybe a retirement account?”
Stillwell flicked a dismissive hand. “If we work together to properly manage things, that too can be ironed out.”
“Then, yeah, I’d say we could figure out something to stop Teggins from killing you…” Bank paused before adding, “boss.”
So he’d transitioned from the “temporary-boss” moniker. That was a good sign.
He would have to be constantly on his toes in this job, but something told him that if he kept treating the people beneath him with fairness and respect, they’d weed out dissenters in a hurry. There was no evidence to back this up, seeing that the very point of a crime syndicate was not to treat people with dignity and respect. Intimidation, yes, but not respect.
The phone began to ring.
It was Teggins.
Stillwell didn’t feel worried this time, though. If anything, he felt empowered.
“That’s him,” he announced. “Could I have a little privacy, please?”
“Good luck, boss,” Bank said as he left the room.
Just to be irritating, Stillwell let it ring once more before picking it up.
“This is Stillwell,” he said.
“We got a problem here, Stillwell, and you gotta help us out of it.”
“Who is this?” Stillwell said, trying not to laugh.
“It’s Teggins, you boob. Now listen, I only got one call and it’s to you, so don’t screw this up. Me and Lucille got busted for cheating and we’ve been extradited down to Dakmenhem for sentencing. You need to contact my lawyers and get them down here pronto. They all owe me a lot of money, so they’ll play ball or they’ll be in trouble.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Teggins,” Stillwell said in a haughty tone of voice, “but that won’t be possible. You see, the lawyers that you speak of are being forgiven their debt so they no longer have an interest in being under your thumb.”
The phone went silent for a few seconds. Well, not completely silent. Stillwell could hear breathing on the other end. It did not sound like happy breathing, either.
“What are you trying to pull, Stillwell?”
“Also,” Stillwell continued without answering the question directly, “note that the goons have collectively decided that they wish me to remain in charge.”
“This had better be a joke, Stillwell. ‘Cause if it ain’t, I’ll rip your head from your body.”
“You’ll have twenty years to dream of that day, Mr. Teggins. I, on the other hand, will have a massive army of nefarious people who will be rather interested in my staying alive.” Stillwell breathed in through his nose. “You see, I treat people with respect, Mr. Teggins. You do not.”
The breathing stopped. It was replaced with the sound of controlled rage. Stillwell could not describe the sound, but it was definitely emanating from the other side of the TalkyThingy.
“Let me give you some advice, Stillwell,” growled Teggins. “When I get out of here, you’d better be far away, living in a little cave in the middle of nowhere so that I can’t find you.”
“And I shall provide you some advice as well, Mr. Teggins,” Stillwell countered calmly. “When you get set free from prison, you may wish to duck so you can at least get ten feet out of the gate before you breathe your last.”
“You lousy, double-crossing, piece of dragon dung. You call them lawyers right now or you’ll regret the day you were born!”
Stillwell had covered the mouthpiece as he chuckled.
Then, he thought about those lawyers, and he had to admit that Teggins was right. They did need to be called. Immediately.
“Fine, Mr. Teggins,” Stillwell said, trying to sound a bit worried. “I promise you that I will call your lawyers as soon as we disconnect this call.”
“You will?”
“Absolutely.”
“Well, that’s better, then.”
“You see, Mr. Teggins,
they work for me now, and I’ll make certain they are on the side of the prosecution.” He giggled maniacally. “Don’t worry, though, I’m sure you’ll get a nice public defender to state your case.”
Playing to the Crowd
Payne Sawsblade stood at the entrance to the field, waiting for the contestants to come out. She had purposefully stood off to one side while her cameraperson stood on the other. This was because Crazell would be out first and she was one huge dragon.
The sound of claws striking concrete reverberated down the hallway.
As soon as Crazell turned the corner, Payne understood the meaning of the word “fear.” The dragon’s face was so deathly serious that it threatened to make Payne clam up. This was not the same dragon she’d interviewed earlier. This was a dragon who was ready to kill.
But Payne was a professional, so when Crazell approached, she forced herself calm.
“Crazell is about to enter the ring to defend her title for an amazing twenty-fifth time,” she said in a strong voice before sticking the microphone in front of Crazell. “How are you feeling right now?”
“I have a job to do and I will do it,” the dragon answered without inflection.
“You can see she has a very business-like attitude towards this match,” Payne said to the camera. “Crazell, have you seen the challenger before today?”
“No.”
“Have you watched his previous matches today?”
“Yes.”
“And your thoughts?”
“He is clearly strong and fights intelligently, but he has nothing to offer in the face of my wrath.”
Ricky Schmicky yelled out, “All right, we’re moving!”
Payne wisely jumped out of the way as Crazell exited the tunnel and lifted up into the sky.
The crowd’s cheer was deafening. It was so loud that Payne and the cameraperson moved into the tunnel a bit in order to interview the challenger before he entered the field.
The Ultimate Dragon Fighting Championship Page 19