“So what are you going to do this round, Gungren?” Crazell chirped from a spot just far enough away that he couldn’t reach her. “In the first one you grabbed my leg and wouldn’t let go, and in the second you figured out a loophole in the rules and used magic.” She swung her head around, motioning towards the crowd. “Curious minds can’t help but wonder what you have in store for us now.”
Gungren felt a protruding bump under his sandal. He knew what it was immediately, and his mind dulled even further. Without rational thought, the little giant stepped backwards and crouched down.
He grabbed the rock.
“Owww,” he yelped instantly as his body manufactured a crack of electricity, signifying that Whizzfiddle’s spell had indeed worked. He dropped the rock and shook his hand. “That stings!”
Then something odd happened.
He began to grow.
Fast.
His robe was the first to lose the battle against the strain. The seams ripped and the buttons popped. Within seconds it was lying on the ground in tatters. Next were his sandals. Their leather straps shredded. Fortunately, the Elfstretchy outfit that Orophin had built him was doing just fine keeping intact. Yes, it was riding up on Gungren again, but it didn’t rip. Even his pointy hat had fallen off and bounced off the ground below.
The crowd was silenced as Gungren now stood face to face with the red dragon.
“Okay, that’s actually a good one,” Crazell said with a look of concern. “I honestly didn’t see that coming.”
“Notice that his Elfstretchy still fits?” Orophin pointed out while jumping up and down.
“Aye,” Bekner said, lowering his mug of ale, “though it is after makin’ his naughty bits look somewhat mountainy.”
Orophin was quite proud of that fact. “Exactly.”
“Regardless of that,” Zel said, “he’ll now be able to employ those grappling techniques against the dragon.” He looked at the other two. “Not because of the suit, but because he’s big again. This is rather exciting.”
“Can’t even imagine the power he’s got in that fist now.” Bekner rubbed his head again. “If he punches that poor dragon, its head will explode.”
“That’s true.”
“And he’ll look wonderful doing it,” exclaimed Orophin, feeling immeasurable pride over his creation.
“Blast,” said Whizzfiddle. “He’s turned back into a giant. After all the work we’ve done.”
“What’s the problem?” Barrie asked, glowing. “He could win this thing like that.”
“The problem is that he’s going to go dumb again, and I may never get him back.”
“There, there, Master Whizzfiddle,” Muriel said, patting the elderly wizard on his hand, “things have a way of turning out as they should.”
He sighed and nodded. “That is true. I’ve got more years than anyone in all of Ononokin to know it, too.”
“Besides, at least now he’s able to have a good time,” she added.
Barrie clearly felt differently. “He can have a good time once he wins this blasted tournament.”
“Honestly,” Homer said from the radio booth, “I don’t even see a point on commenting anymore. This day has been full of surprises, twists and turns, and excitement like I’ve never seen in all my years doing this sport.”
“It has been something, that’s for sure,” Optical agreed. “Ladies and gentlemen, Gungren is standing toe to toe with Crazell now. She looks worried, but she seems to be gearing up for a round of fire.” He jumped to his feet, unable to contain himself. “Oh, boy! Gungren has stepped in and knocked her to the ground. They’re wrestling.”
“Are you sure they’re not hugging?” Homer asked, peeking through a set of fingers. “Happened in the first fight, after all. Why not the last one, too?”
“No, I’d say he’s trying to get her in a wing-bar.”
“Another new fun item showing up this year at the UDFC.” Homer was shaking his head now. “A wing-bar? Who’s ever heard of such a thing?”
“Crazell broke free and is using her talons to keep Gungren at bay. Wait, he’s grabbed her by the tail and is starting to drag her in circles. Pretty soon he’ll have her in the air if he keeps up this rotation.”
“What’ll he do with her?” said Homer. “Throw her? That won’t work. She’ll just flip over and her wings will catch air.”
“It looks like Crazell is opening her wings all right,” exclaimed Optical. “Looks like she is trying to slow the spinning.”
Homer nodded. “Yep, but now Gungren is bouncing her off the ground during each revolution. Not sure how much of that Crazell can take.”
“I think Gungren is getting ready to let her fly, Homer.”
“You don’t think she could end up in the bleachers, do you?” Homer asked as they both turned to look at each other and then ducked down and peered over the edge.
The bell rang and Gungren slowly decreased the spinning, bringing Crazell to a gentle landing on the ground. The dragon appeared to be seriously disoriented as she stumbled her way back to her corner, clearly trying not to fall over.
“I can’t believe I’m going to say this,” Homer said, “but the judges must have Gungren winning that round.”
“Indeed,” agreed Optical.
What in the Blazes?
Ricky wanted to rush out and help his fighter get back in the corner, but she was wavering pretty badly and he didn’t want to get stepped on.
Fortunately, she made it back and sat down.
“You okay, Crazell?” he called out.
“Not really. That’s never happened to me before.”
“Definitely surprised me with the turning-into-a-giant thing,” Ricky admitted.
“Just a bit.”
“That’s okay, though,” Ricky said, thinking fast. “We know now. We got this. You’ve fought giants before.”
“Not ones as strong as Gungren,” Crazell replied after releasing a heavy breath.
“It just means you’re going to need to dig down deep.”
“I don’t know if I have anything to dig down into, Ricky.” She grunted. “I’ve been trying to fight this guy and he’s been making a fool out of me.” Crazell was staring across at the giant. “You’d think that would rile me up, but it doesn’t. The fire just isn’t there.”
“You’re out of fire?”
“I mean passion, Ricky. There is none.”
Ricky wasn’t sure what to do here. He wanted his fighter to win, obviously. He didn’t care about himself and his family, they’d survive, but it’d be good for Crazell. She would have to move, yes, but she would ever-harbor that feeling of being the best.
“Look, I believe in you, Crazell. I know you can do this. You can win for the twenty-fifth time, but only if you want it.”
“How many times do I need to say I don’t want it?” she asked, looking at him. Then her eyes softened. “I’m sorry, Ricky. You’re right. I’ll do this for you.”
“No, no, no,” Ricky said, waving his hands around frantically. “I won’t have that on my conscience. You need to do it for you, Craz. You’re the queen of this tournament. For the rest of your life this day is going to be playing in your head” He pointed at the field. “If you lose fighting another dragon, fine. If you go out fighting an orc, an ogre, or even a knight...fine.” He then raised his eyes to meet hers. “But do you want to lose to a giant?”
It was probably a bit of a dirty trick, seeing as how the giants and the dragons had fought in a war against each other many years ago. They mostly got along now, but there was that ever-burning angst that still remained between their two peoples.
“I didn’t think so,” Ricky said finally. “You attacked and tried to battle in the first two rounds. He just grabbed your leg in one and sat down behind a shield in the other. That’s not fighting. They’s just surviving. So I’m positive you’ve still got him two rounds to one, but you need to take this next round decisively.”
What’s Happened?
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Whizzfiddle had never spoken to the large giant version of Gungren, so he wasn’t sure what to expect, but he had to try.
“Gungren,” he called up, “bring your head down here.”
“Sorry, Master,” Gungren said in his normal way.
His voice had a touch more boom to it, but Whizzfiddle still recognized it as belonging to his apprentice.
“Oh, good, you’re still able to understand and speak normally. Well, normally for you anyway.”
“Yep, but it hard. I just want to play with rocks and sit in a cave and knock my head on the wall.”
Whizzfiddle frowned at this admission. “Why would you knock your head on a cave wall?”
“That how giants make music.”
“Oh.” He searched his memory, trying to recall if he’d ever heard anything about giants and music. Nothing came to mind. “Anyway, you have to keep fighting.”
“I know. I can win this.”
“I don’t mean the match,” Whizzfiddle explained. “I mean you have to fight your brain from wanting to return to being a full giant. Obviously your body has already lost this fight, but you still have your mind, Gungren. For now, anyway.” He then got an idea and went to reach for the white rag sitting by his corner. “In fact, I’m going to throw in the towel and get you some proper help.”
Gungren leaned in ominously. “You do that and I’ll pick you up and throw you like a rock.”
“Right, right,” Whizzfiddle replied with his hands up in surrender as a sense of dread filled his being. “No need to get rude about it.”
“Sorry, Master,” Gungren said, blinking and shaking his head. “I not meaned that. It hard to control fings.” Gungren’s eyes widened. “Oh no, I’m saying ‘fings’ again instead of ‘fings.’”
“It’s all right, Gungren. You just have to stay strong.”
“I know, but I also gotta finish this fight.”
“You really don’t,” Whizzfiddle implored.
“Yep, I does.”
Round 4
The bell rang to signal the start of the next round. Optical had gone back to drinking, as did Homer. Both of the announcers agreed that there was little sense in trying to maintain levelheadedness at this point in the game.
“Gungren jumped across the ring and grabbed Crazell before she could get in the air,” he said, just tipsy enough to find things fascinating while still sober enough not to slur his words. “He’s got her on the ground again and they seem to be fighting tooth and nail.”
“Definitely seems to…hic…finally be some ser…ser…serious intentions again.”
Homer was obviously a fair bit more inebriated.
“Crazell is slapping him in the head with a wing,” said Optical. “It doesn’t seem to be having much effect, though.”
“Ah,” said Homer as his eyes fought to stay open, “remember that giants ban…ban…ng theirs heads on cave walls to make music.”
“That’s a tidbit I was unaware of,” Optical said, assuming that the wizard was making that up. “Oh, he’s finally gotten hold of that wing and has pushed it behind her. They’re rolling around again, but Gungren seems to be gaining the upper hand.”
“Honestly, Optimum…Optipupil…Optipotato…” He frowned and then shrugged. “Well, whatever your name is, I’d say…hic…they’re doing that hugging crap like the first fight.”
“Except that these two are on the ground,” Optical pointed out.
“That just makes it worse.”
“By The Twelve,” Optical said, pushing his own drink away in the hopes that he wouldn’t end up sounding like Homer, “I daresay that Crazell is weeping.”
Homer was snoring.
“That giant must really be working her over,” Optical said after reaching out and flipping off Homer’s microphone.
Gungren was shocked at what was happening. He had taken down the dragon and was winning the fight, but she just seemed to give up at one point and began sobbing. Feeling bad, he began to hug her, telling her that everything was going to be all right.
That’s when she opened up and told him everything that was really going on.
“So you not want to be doing this?” Gungren asked as they stayed on the ground, pretending to fight.
“Not even remotely,” she replied between sniffs.
“Did you ever?”
“Oh sure, at first. The fame and fortune was amazing, and the cooked knights tasted like eating marshmallows around a campfire. But after a hundred years I amassed so much wealth that I no longer needed to do this.” She started to sob again. “And now I’m stuck.”
This was definitely a strange turn of events. When they’d started this bout, Crazell had stated repeatedly that she was going to destroy him. Now she was very sad, and Gungren understood why. He wouldn’t want to spend the rest of his days being constantly challenged to duels either.
“It okay. It okay.” He patted her back. “There got to be some way out of this.”
“Not unless I’m killed.”
“Well, I not gonna do that,” Gungren said. “That not in my gernetic things.”
“Genetics.”
“That the one.” He pursed his lips for a moment. “I not sure if I remember right, but I thought I read that dragons can play dead.”
“We can actually stop our hearts for a brief time, yes.”
“Well, then I got an idea, but you have to play along.”
You Gotta Win This Round
“You have to win this round, Craz,” Ricky was saying when she came back.
She felt somewhat upbeat. There was a positiveness that she hadn’t experienced in many years.
“No, I don’t,” she replied, almost giddy.
“Oh, come on, baby. You have this. It’s just a giant, remember?”
“Actually, he’s not just a giant.” Her response was wistful. “He’s smart, sweet, and adorable.”
“What?” Ricky moved in front of her and looked up. “Oh, boy. Craz, are you in love with the guy now?”
“Of course not, you idiot,” she answered as if slapped. “I’m just saying that he’s a genuinely good person. I’m also saying that I don’t have anything left to prove.”
“I know, I know.” He then squared his shoulders. “Are you sure, Craz? I mean really sure?”
She was at peace. “I am.”
“Fine,” Ricky said, shrugging. “I’ll throw in the towel.”
“No, don’t,” Crazell said, stopping him. “I’ve been talking with Gungren while we were rolling around pretending to fight.”
Ricky laughed. “So you were hugging. That’s kind of what it looked like from here.”
“We have a plan, Ricky,” she said. “I think it’ll work, but you have to play along.”
“I’m listening.”
You Could Win This Thing
Whizzfiddle knew something was up, but he couldn’t quite tell what it was. There didn’t seem to be any actual fighting going on after Gungren had wrestled the dragon to the ground. He could hear their voices. Not distinctly, of course, the crowd was too loud for that. But they’d obviously been discussing something.
“You got her right where you want her, Gungren,” Barrie was saying. “Now it’s time for the brass ring. You just gotta want it, my boy!”
“I have to agree with Barrie this time, Gungren,” Muriel said in support of her husband.
Barrie was clearly taken aback by this statement, because he glanced away and murmured, “Maybe I should reexamine my position on this, then.”
Whizzfiddle moved between them and stepped up to Gungren. It was quite a different thing talking to his apprentice while looking up.
“How are you feeling, Gungren? Are you okay?”
“I are fine.”
“I am fine.” Old habits die hard.
“I glad for you, Master,” Gungren said as he patted Whizzfiddle on his head, flattening his hat.
Get More Cameras in Here
“More cameras,” yelled Corg
as he raced from position to position. Up until now, it had just been him and Aniok doing all the filming, but with more Fates helping, Corg had to make sure they were all following his rules. “This is the big show. I want ten cameras from all angles. Anyone who misses a shot will be after havin’ me shoe permanently attached to your bottom.” He wagged a finger at the various Fates who had been brought in to assist. “If more than two of ye goof up, I’ll buy more shoes!”
Aniok stood up and grabbed Corg by the shoulders.
“We’re all good here, boss,” he said, obviously trying to help the dwarf get control of himself. “It’s a full panoramic view, crowd and everything.”
“Right, right,” he said with a nod. Then he glanced up. “And you’re not after just filmin’ the tops of their heads, right?”
“Damn,” replied Aniok. “All right, everyone, make sure we’re filming faces.” They all looked at him askance. “Don’t question it, just do it!”
Round 5
Gungren and Crazell stood in the center of the arena. The bell hadn’t rung yet and the referee kept yelling at them to get back to their corners, but they stood their ground.
"Am you ready?" asked Gungren.
“I am,” Crazell replied.
They nodded at each other and backed away until the ref was appeased.
The bell rang and they ran out at each other, but stopped before engaging.
Crazell had her wings up and Gungren had his hands out. They both looked ready to pounce as they circled around while the crowd cheered.
The Ultimate Dragon Fighting Championship Page 22