Champion of the Titan Games

by Brandon Mull

  “Thanks, Merek.”

  “For now, call me Fenrick.” He winked.

  Seth followed Merek down halls and across common areas. They skirted the edge of a spacious room where gladiators skirmished with practice gear under the critical gazes of their trainers. Merek wore a stern expression, and nobody approached them.

  Merek paused at the top of a stairway illuminated by an occasional white crystal. “I never descended these stairs because I did not believe I could. But now I remember experiences down there. I could have returned again at my leisure.”

  He started down, and Seth followed. “A guard warned me to stay in the common areas this time,” Seth said.

  “You have a right to come down here, or they would stop you,” Merek said. “Shed all doubts. Our mission is ahead of us.”

  At the bottom of the stairs, the passage forward had an arched ceiling and was composed of small, ill-fitted stones, giving all surfaces but the floor a rough-hewn jaggedness. The air was chilly, and their footfalls seemed magnified. Seth engaged his senses but perceived no undead.

  Merek stopped before a bare stretch of wall, hands on his hips. “I remember this place. Seth, this is not a real wall.”

  Seth reached out and touched the rough stone surface. He knocked his knuckles against the cool, solid barrier. “Feels real to me.”

  “This wall is there only if we believe it is there,” Merek said.

  “No way,” Seth said.

  “It is basically impossible for two people to pass it at once,” Merek said. “If you think it is there, the wall will be present for me as well. If I believe it is there, it will block your way and mine.”

  “I’m trying not to believe in it,” Seth said.

  “So am I,” Merek said.

  “It’s still there,” Seth observed. “You’ve gotten past it before?”

  “I did so alone,” Merek said. “I pressed against the rocks, disbelieving them, until they yielded. I know of no other way.”

  “Should I leave?” Seth asked.

  “Just retreat around the corner,” Merek said. “Count to a hundred. When you look again, if I’m gone, I’ll be waiting for you on the other side.”

  “All right,” Seth said.

  Seth walked several paces along the hall and went around the corner. He stood with his back to a wall and started counting. He kept the pace slow, whispering the numbers and resisting the urge to count by fives.

  What would happen if he looked too early? What if Merek was partway through the wall, Seth wondered—could he think it into existence, trapping Merek or even killing him?

  Seth took the nineties extra slow just in case. Then he listened, hearing nothing. A quick peek around the corner revealed an empty hall.

  Seth walked to the supposedly fake wall and gave it a gentle kick. It seemed undeniably tangible.

  Closing his eyes, Seth imagined the wall disappearing. Eyes still shut, he held out a hand, hoping to feel nothing. When his fingers came up against cool stone, he tried not to feel disappointed.

  The wall wasn’t there. He was putting it there himself. He had to really believe it.

  Unless Merek had tricked him.

  Seth opened his eyes. The hall extended a long way. While Seth was around the corner, Merek could have easily snuck away. And left him standing here like a sucker, trying to walk through an absolutely real wall.

  Seth listened carefully. He heard no footfalls. But that was no proof—Merek could be walking quietly. Should he try to catch up to him? Was Merek’s head start already too big?

  Or had Merek told the truth? Should he stay here trying to push through a stone barrier?

  Reaching out with both hands, Seth pressed against the wall. The texture felt perfectly real. Why would Merek lie? He had voluntarily invited Seth along.

  Seth closed his eyes again and leaned into the effort, telling himself that the stone against his palms was imaginary. He found that as he relaxed and pushed less hard, the wall began to yield. Gradually, his hands began to sink into the stone, at first like it was clay. Then it began to feel less substantial, like putty, until it became almost like liquid.

  As his hands sank deeper into what had previously behaved like solid rock, something clicked inside Seth, and he knew it was an illusion. No stone wall would soften into goo under pressure.

  Suddenly the wall was gone. Seth walked forward into a broad hall. When he looked back, the wall was still gone.

  “Seth,” Merek called, poking his head around a corner. “I stayed away in case my mind would interfere with your efforts.”

  “Was the wall gone when you looked back?” Seth asked.

  “Yes, but it returned when you began to make your attempt,” Merek said. “It’s still gone now.”

  “How did you ever figure that out?” Seth asked.

  “I had help from a friend,” Merek said. “A master illusionist. He lost his life at the end of this hall.”

  “How?” Seth asked.

  “I’ll show you,” Merek said.

  They advanced until the passage ended at a circular room.

  “How many doors do you see?” Merek asked.

  Seth counted five doors along the curved wall. “Five.”

  “All of them lead to death,” Merek said. “Make a circle with your thumb and forefinger.”

  Seth mimicked his okay sign.

  “Peer through the circle,” Merek suggested.

  “What?” Seth exclaimed. “Now there are six doors.”

  “Do you see which one is visible only through the circle?” Merek asked.

  Seth broke the circle, then formed it again. “Yep.”

  “That is the door we want,” Merek said. “My illusionist friend died when we opened the wrong one. As the poison took hold, he experimented with several ways the right door might be hidden and figured out the trick. The door he found stole my memories.”

  Seth went to the door visible through the circle. “Then our answers are behind this door. Will it take our memories again?”

  “I’m not sure,” Merek said. “Better let me try.”

  “I have fewer memories to lose,” Seth said, quickly turning the doorknob and pushing the door open. He stepped into the room beyond, and Merek followed.

  “Are you all right?” Merek asked.

  “I’m still with you,” Seth said.

  A bell sat atop an ornate altar on the far side of the lavish room. Hangings made of beads decorated the walls, and fur rugs covered the ground. The altar glowed red, providing light.

  They approached the altar.

  “Ring the bell?” Seth asked.

  “If we ring it, who knows what it might trigger?” Merek said, eyes roving the room.

  “What did you do last time?” Seth asked.

  “I found myself here, confused, and I wandered away,” Merek said.

  “Did you ring the bell?”

  Merek glanced at the altar. “No.”

  Seth picked up the bell and gave it a shake.

  With a flash of light and a puff of smoke, a dwarf appeared atop the altar. His forked beard was an auburn color, streaked with gray. He smiled and tossed glitter into the air.

  “Congratulations!” he crowed. “You have passed the trials entitling you to learn the true Game!”

  “Are you Humbuggle?” Merek asked.

  The dwarf pressed his palm to his face. “Oh, no. You wasted your only question. Back to the start for you! Always listen to the rules before speaking.”

  Merek stared at the dwarf in frustration.

  “I’m teasing,” the dwarf said. “Yes, I’m Humbuggle. And you are Merek. And Seth remembers me, if not much else.”

  “I lost many years here,” Merek said.

  “Everyone loses many years here!” Humbuggle said. “At least
you are making progress. And you found a new friend. I love when my Games bring people together.”

  “I earned my way to this room before,” Merek said.

  “But you didn’t know why you were here,” Humbuggle said. “You wandered off without ringing the bell. We provided a good life for what remained of you.”

  “You’ll tell us the true Game?” Seth asked.

  “Yes,” Humbuggle said. “Very few ever learn it. I could count them on one hand. If that hand had at least eighteen fingers. To learn it, you must swear to keep it a secret.”

  “I promise,” Seth said.

  “Me too,” Merek added. “What is the true Game?”

  Humbuggle pressed against one fist, cracking knuckles, then popped the knuckles of his other hand. After clearing his throat, he recited:

  To master how my Game is played

  Go find the Unforgiving Blade

  Beg no gurus, ask no sages

  Cut the strings of the Harp of Ages

  “That’s it?” Merek asked.

  “I know, it’s brief, and the meter is imperfect,” Humbuggle said. “But you both paid heavily to come this far—I wanted to make the objective plain. English can be so ambiguous and cumbersome.”

  “We find the Unforgiving Blade and cut the strings of the Harp of Ages,” Seth said.

  “Can’t get much by this kid,” Humbuggle said, jerking a thumb at Seth. “Don’t be too disappointed. Many tasks are easier said than done.”

  “The Harp of Ages is in the Dragon Temple here at Titan Valley,” Merek said.

  “I will neither confirm nor deny,” Humbuggle said, hands behind his back.

  “To destroy it would be a desecration,” Merek said. “That Harp was pivotal in winning the dragon war.”

  “Could we restring it?” Seth asked.

  “You don’t understand,” Merek said. “Wounds inflicted by the Unforgiving Blade can never be undone. What that blade cuts will never be repaired.”

  “You didn’t expect me to give away the Wizenstone without sacrifices?” Humbuggle asked. “I better go. Being around clever heroes tends to make me blab. Thanks for making this entertaining.”

  With a flash and a puff of smoke, Humbuggle vanished.

  We’re traveling by dungeon?” Warren asked.

  “It was made for transporting prisoners,” Kendra said. “But Dectus thought we might prefer it to wicker when the storm hits.”

  Kendra, Warren, Vanessa, and Tanu stood before a human-sized wooden house with iron-reinforced doors and bars on the windows, meant to be carried by a giant. Not far off, Bernosh, a surly giant wearing huge, mismatched pieces of armor, sat sharpening a longsword that could probably cut most castles in half.

  “I try not to voluntarily enter dungeons,” Warren said. “Entering a prison is often easy. Getting out tends to be the problem.”

  “You don’t think Dectus means to trap us?” Vanessa checked.

  “Let’s imagine Bernosh takes a nasty fall and breaks his neck,” Warren said in a reasonable tone. “What happens to us?”

  “We have the keys,” Kendra said. “We unlock the front door and leave.”

  “If our giant takes a nasty fall, we’ll be lucky to survive it,” Tanu said. “Unless we use the right potion.”

  Bernosh stood and sheathed his sword. “Are we going or not?” He was built like a running back, with bulging arms and legs.

  “We’re going,” Kendra said, unlocking the front door of the dungeon.

  The four of them entered and sat on thinly cushioned benches with high backs. Armrests projected from the benches at intervals, and Kendra grabbed one tightly. Unlike in the wicker house, several sets of shackles were bolted to the walls. Bernosh smoothly swung the house onto his back and set off at a brisk pace.

  “He doesn’t waste time,” Warren approved.

  “It gave me a head rush,” Tanu said, sliding his fingers through his thick hair.

  “But it wasn’t jerky,” Vanessa said.

  When Bernosh exited Terastios, he picked up the pace to a lively jog, making the portable dungeon sway and bob, shackles jangling. Seen through the barred windows, the landscape went by at a startling rate.

  “Are we in this big of a hurry?” Warren asked.

  “The faster we travel, the less ground we cover surrounded by lightning,” Bernosh said in his rumbly voice.

  “Great, he’s listening,” Warren said.

  “I’m slow to judge,” Bernosh said.

  Though the speed was exhilarating, Kendra had to agree that the jostling was too much, especially with all the furniture made of wood and poorly cushioned. Kendra soon found that by rocking her body in harmony with the jouncing of the dungeon, she could reduce the impact of the motion.

  “I’m going to need a chiropractor after this,” Tanu said.

  “You could use a gaseous potion,” Vanessa suggested.

  “Worse situations might lie ahead,” Tanu replied. “I’d better save the potions.”

  Warren had unfolded a copy of the map. “Does this giant’s name start with a p?”

  “The p is silent,” Tanu said. “Like in pterodactyl.”

  “English is ridiculous sometimes,” Warren said. “Why have silent ps?”

  “Only psychics know,” Kendra said.

  Bernosh ran for more than two hours before setting the portable dungeon down on a riverbank so he could pause and drink. Kendra had not seen much of the landscape going by because she had been too busy bracing herself during the choppy ride. She and the others stood and stretched now that they were at rest.

  “Listen to the wind,” Tanu said.

  Now that he mentioned it, Kendra heard the wind whistling in the trees and felt it gusting through the dungeon. Going to a window, she saw that the sky still looked mostly clear.

  “How far off is the storm?” Kendra called.

  At the river’s edge, Bernosh stood tall and gazed eastward. “Less than a day,” he reported. “We may feel the front edge in a matter of hours.”

  “How far to Ptolemy?” Kendra asked.

  “We’re almost there,” Bernosh said. “This was the last reliable place to get water before we reach his cave.”

  “Are you sure you want to go in alone?” Warren asked Kendra.

  “Dectus thought negotiation was our best chance,” Kendra said. “He suspected Ptolemy would be more likely to take pity on me than any of you. I’ll bring a gaseous potion. If he tries to capture me, I’ll drink it right away.”

  “Most ettins have two heads,” Bernosh put in. “But Ptolemy has three.”

  “Dectus told us the middle one has control over the body,” Kendra said. “The other two act like counselors.”

  “True enough,” Bernosh said. “Not a terribly large giant, but plenty big next to any of you. Ready to go?”

  “Sure,” Kendra said.

  She and the others returned to their seats barely before Bernosh hauled the dungeon onto his back. This time he walked instead of jogged, and Kendra could see the relief on Tanu’s face.

  They traversed heavily forested foothills, the dungeon windows just higher than the tallest treetops. Bernosh stepped over creeks and pressed through branches, leaving some damage to the forest in his wake. He stopped at the mouth of a narrow ravine and set the dungeon down beside a small stream.

  “The way ahead becomes too narrow for me,” Bernosh said. “Even if Ptolemy should come out, I can’t assist in a scuffle against him. He is held in high regard by the ettins and several of the other lesser giants.”

  “We understand,” Warren said. “Does an ettin have much of an appetite?”

  Bernosh chuckled. “Does a wheel roll downhill? Ettins eat almost anything.”

  “Do they have favorite game or livestock in the area?” Warren asked.

&nbs
p; “Bears,” Bernosh said. “Sheep. You four, potentially. Anything alive they can catch.”

  “How are you at catching sheep?” Warren asked.

  “It’s no trouble,” Bernosh said.

  “We could use a live sheep,” Warren said. “It might speed the mission along.”

  “I’ll have a look,” Bernosh said, lumbering off.

  Tanu held out a gaseous potion to Kendra. “Don’t hesitate to use this.”

  Kendra accepted it. “I won’t. How would this wind affect me in a gaseous state?”

  Tanu winced. “You could get blown far from us. If you go gaseous, try to stay in the ravine. It looks mostly sheltered from the breeze.”

  “I’ll accompany her to the entrance,” Vanessa said.

  “Take my gummy potion,” Tanu said. “Just in case.”

  Vanessa accepted it and joined Kendra on her way into the ravine. They walked along a little shelf of land between the wall of the ravine and the trickling stream. The ground was uneven, and loose rocks sometimes shifted underfoot, forcing Kendra to tread carefully.

  “Have you ever seen an ettin before?” Kendra asked.

  “I have had few dealings with giants,” Vanessa said. “Do not expect the ettin to be as refined as the sky giants. Most giants are quite savage.”

  “Dectus thought Ptolemy would talk to me,” Kendra said.

  “I hope so,” Vanessa responded. “Keep that potion ready.”

  After a couple of gentle turns in the path, a thin waterfall came into view at the end of the ravine, no broader than if Kendra extended both arms. Behind the waterfall gaped the mouth of a cave, at least four times Kendra’s height. Animal bones littered the sides of the stream near the base of the falls, with a few poking out of the water.

  “I could do without the bones,” Kendra said.

  “Let’s not join the collection,” Vanessa suggested.

  Kendra paused toward the end of the ravine, at the side of the waterfall. There was room to get behind the waterfall without stepping into the stream, but not without passing through some chilly mist.

  “I’ll wait here,” Vanessa said. “Turn on the charm. Play up your innocence.”