Champion of the Titan Games

by Brandon Mull

  “That could be valuable if dragons show up,” Merek said.

  “Dragons are quietly gathering here,” the man said. “Have you not felt it, Dragon Slayer? Titan Valley will soon be resisting the largest offensive dragons have launched since the sanctuaries were established.”

  “I saw Celebrant, the Dragon King,” Seth said. “In his human form.”

  “He has come to lead the assault,” the man said. “The giants have set themselves up for a disaster with the way this sanctuary has been run. I’m not sure Celebrant could have garnered the support he needed for this war without the ability to cite the conditions here.”

  “With respect, how do you know so much?” Merek asked. “Who are you?”

  “Perhaps I am wrong,” the man said. “You be the judge. I have filled many roles in my days. For now, you may call me the Traveler.”

  “Thanks for your help, Traveler,” Seth said. “That lightning could have killed me.”

  “Had you been left exposed to the storm, it might have,” the Traveler said.

  “This tea really helped,” Seth said.

  “It’s a specialty of mine,” the Traveler said. “I should not consume more time. You ran through this storm because you have places to be. Turn your backs to me if you want wings.”

  Seth turned away from the Traveler. Merek did likewise.

  Seth felt strong fingers examining his back; then the side of a hand pressed beside his shoulder blade, followed by similar pressure near the other one. For a painful moment, Seth felt something taking root in his back, twining with his muscles. Then, as easily as moving his hands, he flexed and stretched his wings. They spanned quite a bit broader than the reach of his outspread arms and had golden feathers.

  “This feels weirdly natural,” Seth said.

  “Almost like you were born with them,” the Traveler said.

  Merek flapped his wings harder than Seth had attempted, blowing air and campfire smoke around the stone enclosure. “This is unbelievable,” Merek said. “What a gift!”

  Seth noticed the Unforgiving Blade on the ground and picked it up.

  “That is quite a weapon,” the Traveler commented. “Take care where you keep it and how you use it.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Seth said.

  “Blades such as that one have a history of harming the wielder,” the Traveler said. “If you’ll take my advice, try not to carry it longer than necessary.”

  “A wise sentiment,” Merek said. “At present the weapon is a necessity.”

  “Remember, with those wings, courage is key,” the Traveler said. “Now, open so our guests may depart, my wandering friends.”

  One side of the dome collapsed, and the rocks slid out of the way. The storm immediately clamored louder, rain pelting down amid harsh flashes of lightning and stunning bursts of thunder. The wind roared with a volume Seth had never imagined.

  “Do you know where to go?” Seth asked Merek.

  “Yes,” Merek replied. “Stay with me. Traveler, we are in your debt.”

  “You are, perhaps, Dragon Slayer,” the Traveler said. “I will always owe Seth. Fly well.”

  Merek stepped into the downpour and jumped, wings beating down to propel him up into the wild night. For a moment, Seth stared up at the dark fury of the Perennial Storm, watching jagged tangles of lightning backlight the rain and highlight the clouds. With a running start, he sprang from the relative warmth of the protective dome into the icy pandemonium of the tempest. His wings flapped hard as Seth ascended behind and beneath Merek, adapting to the punishing winds.

  The wings did not feel like a contraption he was wearing. They sprouted out of his back as though part of him, and they functioned instinctively, as if he had flown in savage weather for years. Rising through the chilling rain, Seth and Merek promptly became soaked, but even with the wind stripping away his heat, Seth didn’t go numb. The exercise of flapping his wings generated a surprising amount of warmth.

  Soon lightning blazed not just above them, but to the sides, and even beneath them. Most of the electric discharges were brilliant variations on yellow, white, and orange, but a startling amount also flared green or light blue, and a few deepened into vivid shades of red or purple. A cannonade of thunder accompanied the intense lightning, but Seth did not find the blasts as deafening as before he had his wings.

  The lightning made it relatively easy for Seth to track Merek, and, between flashes, Merek’s wings shed enough light of their own that Seth could glimpse them through the deluge. Seth felt less buffeted than when he had flown in the talons of Basirus ahead of the storm. The wind currents were stronger and wilder here in the heart of the tempest, but Seth’s wings reacted magnificently—tucking, extending, angling, and folding into unique shapes to help him make swift progress in whatever direction he chose.

  As the winged duo gained altitude, flying near the base of the storm clouds, Seth became aware of great birds of prey with wingspans the size of hang gliders. The dark raptors soared sedately through the turmoil, wings fully extended, three on one side of Seth and two beyond Merek.

  Dazzling stabs of colorful lightning increased in both frequency and proximity after the birds arrived. Seth felt a charge in the air a moment before lightning shot through his wings, through Merek’s wings, and into one of the thunderbirds off to the side. Seth felt some of the heat from the brilliant flash and smelled ozone afterward, but he didn’t experience an electric shock.

  The surprise of the brightness and the heat, coupled with the immediate detonation of thunder, startled Seth enough that his wings faltered. The sensation of his wings failing compounded his fear, and he went into a free fall.

  “Courage, Seth!” Calvin called. “You can do it!”

  Clenching his fists, Seth deliberately mustered his courage and swooped upward again. Merek had plunged to help Seth, but once they both flew evenly, he tried some evasive maneuvers. Though he spiraled and swerved, the thunderbirds stayed with them.

  Seth held the Unforgiving Blade ready in case the huge raptors decided to attack. Another electric charge built up around Seth, and a second lightning bolt crackled through his wings. After a third blast of lightning caused no real harm, the thunderbirds seemed to lose interest, and they veered away.

  Some flashes of lightning offered hints to the terrain below or granted flickering glimpses of the surrounding horizon, but otherwise Seth followed Merek with blind faith. The Dragon Slayer flew to one side of Seth and a little ahead of him, never seeming to doubt his course. Seth decided to stop hoping he would see the Dragon Temple up ahead, because the continued absence of their destination became too disheartening. Pummeled by blustery gales and stinging sleet, they resolutely pressed forward, wings flapping and adjusting endlessly, as the nightmare tempest raged on.

  Kendra paused where the corridor ahead sloped ever steeper, almost becoming vertical before curving back to level at the bottom. She had cautiously edged to where she could see all the way down, but inching much farther would lead to a fall.

  Warren crouched beside her. “The ground is smooth. It’ll be like riding a steep slide.”

  “Getting back up will be tricky,” Kendra said.

  “Not with me around,” Raxtus assured her.

  “I can help too,” Cyllia said.

  “Time is a factor,” Tanu reminded the group.

  “Let me take the lead,” Cyllia offered, drawing her swords. “Who knows what lurks down there?”

  “All right,” Kendra said.

  With an adroit mix of bounding and sliding on her feet, the hamadryad raced down the slope. “It’s quiet down here,” she called up to the others.

  “I can take you, Kendra,” Raxtus said.

  “Thanks,” Kendra said. “It looks like jumping off a building.”

  “I would accept some help as well,” Tanu said, craning forwar
d to peer down the steep drop. “Big guys aren’t made for falling.”

  “I’ll be right back,” Raxtus said, gripping Kendra’s shoulders with his forelegs. The dragon sprang forward, and Kendra felt the alarming rush of falling before he extended his wings fully, turning himself into her personal hang glider and dropping her gently at the bottom.

  As Raxtus flew back to help Tanu, Kendra approached where Cyllia stood. A steepled archway at the end of the corridor granted access to a sizable chamber, partially masked by curtains of web.

  “Spiders?” Kendra asked.

  “Those don’t seem like spiderwebs to me,” Cyllia said.

  Raxtus shuttled Tanu down, and then Warren as well. They all gathered by Kendra and the hamadryad.

  “I’ve always hated the feeling of walking through a spiderweb,” Raxtus whispered, peering ahead.

  “I will lead,” Cyllia said. “The edges of my blades are keen.”

  The hamadryad preceded them to the steepled archway. She stepped around the curtains of web, and the others followed. Milky crystals recessed in the grimy walls dimly lit a huge cylindrical chamber that widened near the top, like a funnel. Gray draperies of web veiled much of the room from floor to ceiling. High above, thick strands crisscrossed in bizarre patterns. Holding her bow ready, Kendra scanned the gauzy, overlapping layers for a threat.

  “It reeks of death in here,” Cyllia murmured.

  “What could have died?” Kendra asked.

  “Rats, cave beetles, earthworms—the giant kind,” Tanu said.

  “I’m worried this could be Velrog,” Raxtus whispered, looking up.

  “Who is that?” Warren asked.

  Raxtus closed his eyes momentarily and gave a shudder. “A mutant dragon with the skills of a spider. Humans have the boogeyman. Dragons have Velrog. Our mothers tell us stories about Velrog to motivate good behavior.”

  “What can he do?” Tanu asked.

  With a glance toward the webby chamber, Raxtus shrank down low. “I don’t know where myth ends and fact begins. The stories claim his webs are strong enough to ensnare dragons. They say breath weapons cannot harm him. He was the first of the demonic dragons—supposedly he came into being when a dark wizard worked unnatural magic on a dragon egg. He was incubated and hatched in the bowels of a crumbling castle and never learned to love the sky.”

  “Great story, Raxtus,” Warren said. “So we’re down here with your childhood nightmare?”

  Raxtus looked to Tanu. “Do you have any potions that make you slippery? So that nothing could stick to you?”

  “It would be an interesting challenge,” Tanu said. “I haven’t tried to produce that effect, and I don’t have the ingredients to attempt it now.”

  “Avoid the webs,” Raxtus said. “If this is Velrog, we have to kill him before he entraps us.”

  A dry laugh drifted down from above. “What peculiar visitors,” a clinical voice observed from the upper reaches of the room. “Surface dwellers chaperoned by a dragon.”

  Kendra searched the shadowed heights of the room, but web formations blocked her view. Some strands and sheets of web quivered, as if an unseen predator were in motion somewhere on the interconnected network.

  “We have no quarrel with you, Velrog,” Raxtus said, his voice cracking at the end.

  “If you know my name, then you understand what awaits,” Velrog replied. “Forgive me if I consume you slowly. I savor morsels from the sunlit realm.”

  “Ten,” Kendra said, aiming her bow toward the sound of the voice and releasing the string. A burst of arrows streaked upward, but all got caught at various distances in the filmy layers of webbing before getting halfway to the highest pockets of shadow.

  “The webs are stronger than they look,” Warren lamented quietly.

  “The intruders brought toys,” Velrog said. “Clumsy tools that poke and prod. Poor substitutes for teeth and claws. Bring your toys, surface walkers, and teach me how to play.”

  Webs throughout the room vibrated, and a dragon roughly the size of an elephant dropped to the floor in front of Cyllia. Instead of the snug scales encasing most dragons, heavy plates armored Velrog, many bristling with thorny spines. The bulky creature looked like a relative of a horned lizard or an ankylosaurus, but with six legs and an additional pair of tiny forelegs at the front. The rounded bulge at the end of his tail gave it the shape of a flail.

  “Fifty,” Kendra said, releasing the bowstring. Arrows swarmed at Velrog and stuck to all the surfaces of the dragon, showing that the plates shielding his body were leathery.

  Velrog shook like a wet dog, shedding arrows in all directions. Cyllia sprinted forward, a sword in each hand, and Velrog sprang into the air, batlike wings flapping to lift him out of reach. The dragon opened his wide mouth, and gray matter streamed out like water from a firehose. Wherever the concentrated stream touched, gooey masses of web spread outward. Cyllia leaped and dodged and aerialed to avoid the web stream for a few seconds before it overtook her, binding her from head to foot in a heavy cocoon. The hamadryad squirmed and struggled, making the cocoon bulge slightly and wiggle. Her muffled cries made Kendra question whether Cyllia could breathe.

  Raxtus sprang forward and used his teeth to tear the webbing away from her head. Cyllia gasped with relief and Raxtus took flight, hurtling toward Velrog. This time Velrog breathed a silvery mist that coalesced around Raxtus, promptly leaving him tangled in a messy net of webs. Wings stuck to his sides, Raxtus fell to the floor. Flying overhead, Velrog fired a gray sphere from his mouth that exploded into a jumble of webs when it hit the fallen dragon.

  Hoping the extended wings in flight made Velrog more vulnerable, Kendra aimed her bow and cried, “Eighty!” As the arrows launched, Velrog tucked his wings. The projectiles connected to his thick scales as he plummeted to the floor.

  After Velrog landed, legs splayed beneath him, Kendra hauled back the bowstring again and called, “Fifty!” When she released, no arrows flew. Pulling the string again, she frantically tried to calculate how many arrows she had used so far. Was the bow empty? Or had fifty exceeded the balance of her remaining arrows?

  Raxtus snapped at the constraining webs with his teeth and raked with his claws, finally cutting himself free enough to scramble behind the cover of some of the heavier web curtains. Glancing over her shoulder, Kendra saw Tanu expanding into a giant version of himself as he tossed aside an empty bottle. Warren ran to Cyllia and started sawing at her bindings with a dagger.

  “Ten,” Kendra said, and ten arrows sped to thunk against Velrog. She at least wanted to provide a distraction. Was it too much to hope she might hit an eye?

  “Ten,” she repeated, and after she released the string, Velrog looked even more like a pincushion.

  “Ten,” she said again, but no arrows launched.

  “One,” Kendra tried, but the empty string twanged without a result.

  Velrog shook off the arrows as Tanu stomped past Kendra, his knees level with her shoulders. The enlarged Samoan rushed the dragon, but Velrog took flight and began spraying a stream of web matter. Powering forward, Tanu swiped at the spreading webs with minor success at first, but as Velrog kept the stream trained on him, webs multiplied until Tanu became hopelessly entangled. Staggering sideways, the potion master fell against a tall, webby drapery and stuck there as Velrog piled on more bindings.

  Tossing her bow aside, Kendra pulled out the sack of gales. Aiming the mouth at the flying dragon, she opened the bag.

  “No!” Raxtus cried from his hiding place behind the webs as a torrent of wind gushed from the sack, flinging Velrog back against the wall. Velrog folded his wings and dropped to the ground as veils of web around the room flapped and billowed wildly, sticky cords whipping like manic tentacles in the flood of wind swirling through the cylindrical chamber.

  Kendra hurriedly closed the sack, but the damage was done. Raxtu
s hung like a trapped bug, wings askew, sandwiched between layers of sticky curtains. Warren had become ensnared by sheets of web as well, and Cyllia remained bound in her snug cocoon. Tanu flopped and wriggled, but the restraining webs held him fast.

  Only three ropes of web had adhered to Kendra—one on her right shoulder and two against her left leg. Kendra grabbed the cord on her shoulder to yank it off but found her hand instantly affixed. Her most desperate tugging did nothing to separate the gluey line from her shoulder or her palm.

  Velrog scuttled through snarled strands and enmeshed draperies as if they had no adhesive properties. He shot a spurt of gray web stream at Kendra that left her wrapped from shoulders to knees in warm, soft matter that proved frustratingly resilient when she struggled.

  “I have not feasted like this in ages,” Velrog gloated, approaching Cyllia. “This one is a singular prize, long and trim, brimming with vitality. I have almost forgotten the robust flavor of a tree maiden.”

  “I’m meatier,” Tanu invited.

  “No, me,” Warren insisted, lunging against the webs that held him. “His aftertaste is gamey.”

  “I shall wait until you return to your actual size, potion man,” Velrog said. “Magically augmented meat reduces unpleasantly after ingestion. None of you should fret. You will all get your turn. I have long subscribed to the policy of beginning with the ripest fruit.”

  “I am not afraid,” Cyllia said.

  “Excellent,” Velrog enthused. “For your bravery, I award you a final chance.” Leaning forward, the dragon breathed pink fluid onto Cyllia that melted away her bindings. The hamadryad reclaimed her swords and assumed a fighting stance. Stepping carefully, weapons ready, she moved to the portion of the room least festooned with webs.

  “Evil fogs your judgment,” Cyllia said. “I am no typical tree maiden. I am Kendra’s guardian and your executioner.”

  Cyllia threw one of her swords. It embedded in Velrog beside the neck, and he snarled as she raced forward, her other sword ready to strike. Hissing fiercely, Velrog dodged her swing, then lunged at her. Cyllia sidestepped the bite, pulled her embedded sword from the dragon, and nimbly ducked a swipe from the tail.