The Ultimate Dragon Fighting Championship

by John P. Logsdon

  “Only for it to stick,” Peapod replied. “It would have changed him back immediately if he already had, though, which is why I asked. Since he didn’t already speak with her, his size will return to small in about fifteen minutes. But it’ll only last for a few days, then he goes back permanently.”

  “Fine,” Whizzfiddle said, rushing away. “We have to go now!”

  “What?” Misty called out. “You can’t leave yet, we have to film the rest of the makeover.”

  “Aye, we ain’t done yet,” hollered Corg.

  Payne chimed in with, “And I still have to interview him too.”

  “I’ll be back, everyone,” Gungren said, kneeling down and looking them all in the eye, one by one. “I promise.”

  “And that’s a promise you all know you can count on,” Whizzfiddle called over his shoulder as he ran towards Crazell.

  “Well, now I can definitely say that I’ve seen everything,” Optical said just before flicking off his microphone. “Gungren the giant has just picked up Crazell, threw her over his shoulder, and is running out of the ring with her. The crowd is stunned.”

  “That’s the first…hic…time I’ve ever seen a contestant take the corpse of another contestant as a trophy.” He put the cap back on the bottle. “That is ser…ser…seriously warped.”

  Didn’t Make It

  Gungren ran with all his might as Crazell was slung over his shoulder. He was carrying Ricky Schmicky in his left hand, too, since the man was the only one who knew where the dragon lived. Whizzfiddle was using something called “speedy feet” to keep up with them. Eloquen had stayed back at the stadium to promote the outfit that Gungren had been wearing.

  They arrived at Crazell’s lair and Gungren laid the dragon down after setting Ricky on the ground.

  She didn’t rouse.

  Gungren pushed her and then shook her lightly, but she was like a limp rag.

  “Why she not coming back?” he said, looking at Ricky.

  “I don’t know, Gungren. I’ve never done this either.”

  Whizzfiddle was scanning the area. “Are you sure we’re close enough to the lair?”

  “This am the spot,” Gungren replied, pointing at the ground. “You can see the glow.”

  “True.”

  “Ouch,” yelled Gungren as the feeling of a massive weight crushed in on him. He hit the grass and groaned for a second. Then his equilibrium returned. “That hurt.”

  “You’re small again,” Whizzfiddle said, helping the little giant get back to his feet.

  “Yep,” he said as the fog lifted from his thoughts. “My brain clear up too. No more interest in throwing rocks.”

  “What about Crazell?” Ricky asked, walking around her like a worried father.

  Whizzfiddle sighed. “It looks as though we are too late.”

  Gungren started thinking about all the things he’d read over the years. He wasn’t just into reading magic books, after all. In fact, he was widely read. Mostly non-fiction, too, which included textbooks and journals.

  One of those periodicals had to do with health and anatomy. There was nothing specifically written about dragons, but he could only hope that one of the studies he read might be applicable anyway.

  “I got an idea,” he said.

  Whizzfiddle glanced up. “Okay, what is it?”

  Gungren pointed. “You get on that side, Master.”

  “I’m no longer your master, Gungren,” Whizzfiddle pointed out as he moved to where Gungren had told him to go. “You’re a full wizard now.”

  “Okay,” Gungren said, thinking it would take a while for him to stop considering himself as an apprentice.

  “Is this where you want me to be?” the elderly wizard asked.

  “Yep. Now drink some alcerhol stuff.”

  “Right.”

  “Here am my plan,” Gungren said. “When I eat dirt, we am gonna cast a spell of electric on her chest at the same time.”

  “Why?”

  “No time to explain.” He shoved a handful of dirt into his mouth and said, “CAPHSTUM-ELECTRICALUM.”

  “CASTUM-ELECTRICALUM,” Whizzfiddle said at the same time, but without the dirt-induced mumbling sound.

  An arc of electricity flew from them, striking Crazell on both sides of her chest. Her back arched for a moment and then she collapsed back down again.

  She remained still.

  “Do it again,” commanded Gungren, “but real strong this time.” He shoved a bunch of dirt into his mouth. “CAPHSTUM-ELECTRICALUM!”

  “CASTUM-ELECTRICALUM!”

  The energy transference was so strong this time that it launched both Gungren and Whizzfiddle up into the air with a popping sound. Gungren’s Elfstretchy outfit was smoking as he sat up, shaking his head.

  He looked over to make sure that Whizzfiddle was okay.

  “Your hair is pure white, Master,” he said, forgetting again that he was no longer an apprentice.

  “It is?” Whizzfiddle said, looking somewhat dazed. “It’s not been white since I drank my long-life elixir.”

  Crazell groaned and then began to cough.

  “Craz, baby,” Ricky yelled as he rushed to her side. “You’re alive!”

  “What happened?” she said, sounding hoarse.

  “Gungren saved your life, that’s what happened,” Whizzfiddle said. Then he turned around. “You really are quite something, Gungren. Quite something, indeed.”

  “I just doing what right,” Gungren said, feeling self-conscious.

  Gungren helped Crazell to sit up.

  She looked at him with sincere admiration.

  “I don’t know how to thank you, Gungren,” she said. Then she turned to her manager. “And thank you, too, Ricky...for everything. I’m sorry to have let you down.”

  “Bah! You didn’t let me down, baby,” he said with his trademarked smile. “You’re golden. Nobody’s gonna bug you now. They all think you’re in the Afterlife.”

  “Dragons don’t have a place in the Afterlife,” she pointed out.

  “They do in the Ascendant area,” Whizzfiddle corrected her, “and I’m certain you’ll make it there one day. You’ve done great things, after all.”

  “Maybe. For now, I’ll be happy just living my days out in slumber with my jewels, after I find a new place to live, of course.”

  “Now that I understand entirely,” Whizzfiddle stated with a chuckle.

  Gungren felt a lot of relief at seeing that Crazell was okay now. She was correct that she’d have to leave the area. Thieves would undoubtedly be along to claim her jewels within days, and when she defended her cave, everyone would learn the truth of what had happened.

  That gave him an idea.

  “Crazell,” he said, “I not allowed to do big magic stuff without a quest, but if you want to hire me to change the way you look, I can do that.”

  “Really?” she and Whizzfiddle said at the same time.

  “Remember that I read a lot of spell books and stuff,” he said to Whizzfiddle.

  “That’s true.”

  Ten minutes later, Crazell had been transformed from a red dragon to a green one. She also had a few scars on her face and her eyes were changed to bright blue, per her request. Nobody would know it was her, except for those standing here.

  “That’s perfect, Craz,” Ricky said. “You look scary enough to keep away the riffraff, for sure.”

  “Thanks, I think,” she replied. “And thank you too, Gungren. How much do I owe you?”

  “Your thanks is good,” he replied with a smile. Then he looked over at Whizzfiddle. “Master? Erm, sorry...Whizzfiddle?” He shook his head. “Nope. I gonna stick with Master for now, if that okay?”

  “It’s fine, Gungren. What do you need?”

  “Peapod said something about my ma?”

  “Oh, right.” The elderly wizard cleared his throat. “Well, remember that day you asked me to cast a spell on you to see what was required to keep Peapod’s spell from being undone?”


  “Yep.”

  “One of those things was that you had to say goodbye to your ma.”

  “For good?” he asked, feeling suddenly worried.

  It wasn’t like he spent a lot of time with his mother, especially since they no longer had much in common, but he still wanted to see her from time to time.

  “It didn’t specify,” Whizzfiddle answered, “so I would say that it’s not for good.”

  “And that’s it?”

  “Yes, but you have to do it within a couple of days or your transition back to being a giant will be permanent.”

  “I not sure if I can walk there in two days,” Gungren said.

  “You have the ability within you to transport there now, Gungren, remember?” He took the little man by the shoulders. “There are no more limitations on your abilities. You’re not supposed to do magic of that level without a quest, as you’ve just pointed out here, but I would argue that a personal quest is still a quest!”

  “That true, I guess.”

  Crazell started to get up. “I’d be happy to fly you there, Gungren.”

  “No, no,” he said. “You am needing rest and my master am right. I can do it anyway.”

  She breathed out heavily. “Phew,” she said. “Dying really takes it out of you.”

  They laughed.

  “When you’re done,” Whizzfiddle said, “come back to the house in Rangmoon. We need to finish up a few more things.”

  “I will,” answered Gungren, “but first I gotta do them interview things and stuff. So I go do that now, then see my ma, and then I come back home.”

  Whizzfiddle nodded. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

  “Say, Gungren,” Ricky said after giving Crazell a hug, “could you take me to the arena with you? It’s kind of a far walk.”

  “Yep.”

  “Thanks again, Gungren,” Crazell said, reaching out a wing and putting it around him. “If you ever have need of anything, I’ll be there for you.”

  “Thanks,” the little giant replied. “Same for you.”

  Success

  Unreal Makeover: Gift of the Fates hit #1 in the ratings and broke so many records that Misty Trealo was the talk of the town.

  “And so it seems that you are now my boss,” Mr. Grutch said without malice, though he did seem to be somewhat beside himself. “I’m sorry if I seem a little flummoxed, but I’ve never promoted someone over me before.”

  “Excellent,” Misty said, relishing in the fact that the tables had turned. “And well-deserved, too, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Oh, by all means,” came his enthusiastic reply. “You’ve done a wonderful job, Ms. Trealo. I couldn’t have done as good myself.”

  “I know.”

  “Right, well, I have taken the liberty of having your office set up down the hall.” He was smiling, which looked odd to Misty. “I have made certain that you have only the highest quality of furnishings.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Grutch,” she replied, deciding to twist the screws a little, “but I think I’d prefer a corner office with a view.”

  “But there’s only one of those and we’re sitting in it.” Their eyes met as realization set in. “Ah, I see. I’ll have it taken care of.”

  Corg Sawsblade had been fielding offers left and right. It had gotten to the point where he’d run out of clever ways to call people names as he told them, “No!”

  “We’ll be able to make the best films ever now, Corg,” Misty said as they sat in her new corner office.

  “Yeah…about that,” Corg replied at length. “It seems as though them Fates is wantin’ me to head up their film crew.” He shrugged. “They’re after askin’ me to teach their daft camera folks which end to point the lens and such.”

  Misty seemed taken aback by this.

  “That’s an incredible opportunity.”

  “Aye.”

  “I’m assuming you’re going to take them up on it?”

  “Kinda have to, if ye know what I mean?”

  “You mean they’re forcing—”

  “What?” Corg interrupted with a frown. “Nobody forces Corg Sawsblade to do nothin’ he’s not wantin’ to do, ye flippity elf.”

  “You’re speaking of yourself in the third person,” Misty pointed out.

  “Aye, so?” She didn’t reply. “Anyhoo, it’s just that coming back to the old style of filmin’ here after bein’ up there is like eatin’ nothin’ but bread after ye’ve had puddin’.”

  “I understand,” Misty said, and she looked genuine about it, “but if you ever decide to come back, there will always be a place for you here.”

  “Thanks, ye blue devil,” he said with a wink.

  She grinned. “Don’t mention it, you little sh—”

  “Show’s on in the conference room, Ms. Trealo,” Mr. Grutch called out as he walked by.

  “Right. Thank you, Mr. Grutch.”

  Corg could see the elation on her face. This was a rare thing with dark elves. Of course, she was smashing her ex-boss under her thumb, so it sort of made sense.

  “That’s got to be after feelin’ good,” Corg said.

  Misty grinned even bigger. “It’s definitely not horrible.”

  Just as they were about to get up to check out the show, Eloquen stepped into the office. He was shifting back and forth, looking uncomfortable.

  “Is something wrong?” asked Misty.

  “Yeah,” agreed Corg, “ye look like somebody just stole yer favorite doll, ye shifty elf.”

  “Sorrow expands to the extent of the soul as the cravings of unrestraint summon my sentience towards profligacy. Hence, my individuality is impelled to vacate.”

  Corg looked at Misty and she looked back at him. It was obvious that neither of them had any idea what the elf had said.

  As one, they turned back and said, “Huh?”

  Eloquen sighed, obviously recognizing that there was nobody around to translate for him.

  He rolled his eyes. “I said, ‘I’m sorry, but I’ve got a shot at making a stupid amount of money. Therefore, I quit.”

  Heliok had gotten the numbers in. They were pretty incredible, too. Well beyond what he’d expected them to be.

  He headed up to Kilodiek’s office to share the news, when that damnable West stepped in his way.

  “Do you have an appointment with Kilodiek?” the troll asked, moving to open his little book.

  “As far as you know,” Heliok said, flicking his wrist and causing West to immediately transport back to his chair. “Kilodiek, the numbers are in.”

  “Sorry, sir,” West said, rushing into the office an instant later, “but he just barged past me.”

  “It’s fine, West. Leave us alone.” Then Kilodiek mumbled something under his breath that Heliok could not hear. “What are the numbers, Heliok?”

  “We’re in the mid-twenties.”

  “No kidding?”

  Kilodiek’s eyes grew larger than any human’s could have managed, and seeing that he had currently arranged himself to look human, it was somewhat grotesque.

  He snatched the paper from Heliok and began studying it.

  “Well, it looks like The Twelves’ numbers are down, but that’s not my problem.” Kilodiek glanced up, his eyes still out of proportion. “It’s your problem, Heliok, but it’s not mine.”

  “I’ll handle it.”

  “I’m sure you will,” he said more kindly than usual. Then he glanced out his office and leaned in. “Say, listen, I was wondering if you wanted West back?”

  Heliok found this odd. “Is he not working out?”

  “He’s too pushy for me.”

  “I see,” Heliok replied. “Honestly, after how he did his little power play, I’m not sure I would be able to trust him again.”

  “He’s tried to go over my head and work for Rimbodiek, you know?”

  Heliok cracked a smile. “I had a feeling he might. He seems very enterprising.”

  “That’s an understatement,” Kilodiek said,
taking another glance at the troll. “I sense that he will one day run everything in Fateland if we don’t do something about it.”

  “I have an idea,” said Heliok. “We could always just grant his original wish and send him back to Ononokin.”

  “What wish?”

  “To be young again, have eternal youth, and unlimited money.”

  Everything went dark for West for a moment, but then he awoke to find he was no longer in Fateland. He sensed he was back in Hazpen, in fact.

  A voice that sounded like Heliok said, “We’re sorry that the position you had as an assistant didn’t work out, but we have decided to grant your original wish for a younger body, eternal youth, and loads of money. We promise you’ll always have money and that you won’t age even a single day.”

  West had all his memories and faculties and learning, but when he tried to move, he found he could only wiggle his arms and legs uncontrollably.

  He also felt a bit damp in his under region.

  “Oooh,” said the huge face of an elderly troll. “It looks like our little snuggle bunny has done a poopie.”

  She lifted him up and he saw a room full of gold and diamonds and countless other things that spelled wealth.

  The woman carried him over to a table that housed a mirror.

  He looked to be roughly six months old.

  Recalling Heliok’s words that said, “You won’t age even a single day,” made West scream out in the only way he’d ever be able to.

  “Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

  Back Home

  Whizzfiddle was having tea when Gungren arrived. This was both a happy and sad day for the elderly wizard. He’d never expected he’d work with another apprentice after Treneth of Dahl, but Gungren had made up for all that Treneth had sullied.

  “Did everything go well with your ma?” he asked as the little giant entered the kitchen. That’s when he noticed Gungren was back to being the same old Gungren. “Oh, wow…your teeth, your body…”

  “Yep, I know,” Gungren said with the same gap-toothed smile he used to wear. “I let that Heliok guy change me for the show but made him change me back after. I promised I would let him change me again at the follow-up thing.”