Chapter 12

Day 9:

The dragon settled back into the center of a massive stadium carved from the mountain itself. The doorway they’d entered through had a mirror image on the opposite side of the arena floor. At the end, in the same direction as the stairs they’d come up, was the only break in the oval stands. It was narrow at floor level, but widened into a wedge shape leading out to what looked like massive siege-resistant walls behind. Ice coated the cavern ceiling, reminding John of the domes covering some professional sports stadiums.

A massive diamond, as large as a small car, hung suspended from the ice above the Brontosaurus-sized dragon. The beam they’d seen earlier in the room with the tear, drew a blue-white line over the stadium wall, reflected off a polished sheet on the frozen roof, and into the diamond face. A diffuse cone of light with that jewel at its apex bathed the dragon, making her already clear scales sparkle and flash blindingly. Squinting through the glare, John could make out the beast’s four legs and two wings. A bus-length tail ended in a spiked ball, and each claw had three curved, razor-sharp talons opposed by two smaller ones. Her head sat atop a thick neck, only one third the length of her tail. The dragon’s snout was longer than he’d realized, almost like an alligator. A crown of eight horns grew from her brow. Her skull had four faceted eyes around the curve, giving her three-hundred-sixty-degree vision.

“Treb!” John hissed out of the side of his mouth. “Run back and yell down the hall. Tell Hal to get here quick, while the way’s clear.”

The boy turned around, but didn’t move.

“Uh...”

John glanced back and swore. The doors at the other end which had been closed when they entered were now wide open. A solid line of draugyr, fifteen or twenty wide, backed by five massive trolls, the shaggiest and burliest he’d seen yet, with another living frost giant commanding them, marched down the hall to a position just outside the arena. These draugyr were all former orcs, wearing plate cuirasses, helmets and greaves. Each carried a large curved rectangular shield and medium-length sword. Minus the whole being-undead part, John figured they looked very like the front rank of a Roman Legion. The trolls behind them carried massive spears, with thick shafts and barbed, hooked, ax-sided heads. Their commander wore armor identical to the other giant, who now lay dead against the wall, in a pool of his own insides.

The dragon’s voice was cold enough to freeze the blood in their veins.

“There is only one way out of my lair. Other than as my dinner, of course. It’s always nice when food brings itself to you, rather than having to go hunt for it. I am ... interested to find out whether you can discover your only viable solution.”

Treb spun back around at John’s tap as he spoke.

“We’ve come for the Challenge, mighty dragon.” He shouted.

“Unfortunate.” The dragon mused. “According to my sisters, only one in three who survive to stand before them and Challenge also survive to go free. Which one of you will that be? I hope it is not the large one. You look tasty.”

A claw picked up and pointed to the closed end of the stadium floor. “Over there, Challenger.” She ordered, snout pointed at John.

A peal, like a bell the size of the mountain itself rang out. Ghosts of all races, and sizes began streaming into the stands. They rose up through the floor, and came down through access points at the top of the bleachers. Their raucous cries and laughter filled the air as John moved to her indicated spot. His heart pounded, adrenaline pumping throughout his body. He could feel the tremors in his arms.

“None may witness another’s Task, Terms or Conditions.” The dragon spoke, snout now pointing at Treb. “Only the dead may watch; my prison will ensure their silence. Should you also wish to Challenge, you must speak it for yourselves.”

Treb and Syg spoke together. “We Challenge!”

“Very well,” the dragon poked her snout at Syg and pointed at the other end. “You there.” She pointed at Treb last. “Come a little closer, tiny morsel. I will not eat you. Yet.”

Treb shuffled closer until told to stop.

Her voice was devoid of any emotion. “Begin.”

An opaque dome of ice sprang up around John, with him at its center. The half-sphere was about fifteen yards in diameter. A three-dimensional image of the dragon appeared, the size of a small pony.

“Damn!” Malcolm muttered as their monitors fuzzed out.

“You said it!” Steve added with a frown.

“It’ll be interesting to see if John can talk about it once he’s back here.” Veronyka mused.

The hard wired intercom on the wall spoke.

“The General is here.”

Mason moved over and activated it.

“I’ll be right there.” He turned to the techs. “See if there’s something we can do to get the feed back.”

“Like what?” Jaiden asked Chin, as Mason walked out.

“Beats me.” Chin shrugged. “But I’d rather be checking something when they get back, than not.”

The two made themselves look busy while the others sat helplessly.

“There are three levels of Challenge you may complete.” The dragon said tonelessly. “Each with its own reward. Do you wish to hear the Terms?”

“Yes, please.” John said.

“The first level is the easiest. It will be a Task I judge you have a slightly higher chance of completing than failing. The reward for this level is an increase in one category of your physical or perception traits. The increase will be to both the maximum trainable level possible for you, and to your existing capability. The amount of increase will be a function of how well you complete the Task. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I think so. It’ll be something I have a slight edge to do, and you’ll give me a boost if I succeed.”

“This is a not-inaccurate summary.” The dragon’s image agreed. “The second level will be a Task I judge you have a higher chance of failing than of completing, though not significantly so. This Task will be cumulative with the first level Task. You must complete both to succeed. The reward for this level includes the increase for completing the first level Task, plus you will receive an item, weapon or armor piece with great power, of a type you chose, made from the finest materials known to us. Do you understand?”

“It sounds like you’re saying I’ll have to do two tasks, but will get a reward from each one. The easier will give me a boost, the harder will let me pick a magic weapon or armor or tool. That what you’re saying?”

“You are not-incorrect in your summary again.” The dragon’s image acknowledged. “The third level will be a Task I judge you have a very unlikely chance of completing. As with the second level, this Task will be cumulative with the other two Tasks. As with the other reward, in addition to those already laid before you, you shall have the opportunity to gain either the ability to perform what your people call magic, drawn from my own power, or a nearly perfect resistance to all cold, both artificial and natural-environmental. Which you receive shall be your choice, though if you chose the first option, you will be offered a further choice of three minor abilities, or one significant power. Developing further skill with what you term magic shall be up to you. Do you understand?”

“Yes. You’ll give me three progressively harder tasks, and I’ll get the reward from each one. The last reward will be some magic spells, or spell, or I’ll get near-immunity to cold magic and weather. I do have a question.”

“Speak.”

“Do I get the reward for each task, if I do the hardest level, as I complete the easier tasks, or do I get all of the rewards at the end?”

There was a pause.

“I must give you the reward for each task as you complete them, if you ask.” The dragon sounded reluctant, for the first time. Like she didn’t want to be telling him this. “You shall be given a time equal to the time you took completing that Task, to decide the specifics of your reward, before the next Task begins.”

“Hot damn!” John rubbed weapon-holding hands on his legs. “All or nothing, let’s do level three!”

He hadn’t felt this alive since that last time he’d made entry on a house full of terrorist dirt-bags. After a career-ender like that, he was amazed to be back in the mix.

This time, the dragon sounded pleased. “Very well, you understand the Terms?”

“Three tasks, three rewards. First one not easy but doable, second one possibly doable but harder, and finally a real ball-buster. Got it.” John confirmed.

“First level Task: defeat an opponent in open combat. Conditions: you must discard your pack, and use only what you have on your body. You must remain within the circle.” A bright white line appeared, a circle less than ten yards wide. “Victory conditions are: when your opponent is dead, strike off his head and remove it from the circle. Failure conditions: death, or leaving the circle, voluntarily or by force. Do you understand?”

John took a deep breath. “Stay in the circle, kill my opponent and behead him. Got it.”

Je-sus, this is brutal guys. Any suggestions?

Spooky? Melvin?

Anyone?

Well, shit.

One of the shaggy, burly trolls that had blocked their entry walked through the ice like it wasn’t there. The ice acted like it wasn’t there, either. John elected not to test whether it would let him do the same. The troll was carrying his thick-shafted, double-headed halberd. Without the draugyr in the way, he could see that the troll was wearing a baldric with a massive-headed, spiked mace dangling from it. Various pelts and dried body-parts, like fingers or paws decorated the strap. Something on the troll’s fingers glinted briefly as it shifted its grip on the haft. It paused just inside the circle, so John moved away to keep some distance.

The dragon image moved to the center between them. “Begin.”

The troll was already moving, and more quickly than John expected. The monster stepped forward and jabbed his pole arm at John’s chest. The soldier tried to dodge, but the side-blade scraped his chest, hard. He slipped, but the troll was able to turn the thrust into a swing. His armor turned the blow to a bruising smash that tossed him onto his ass. He rolled away and heard a metal clang as the head rebounded off the icy stone floor.

He surged to his feet, an old, half-forgotten move from his younger days. The troll circled, a snarl twisting his lips. It kept the spear point hovering a few feet from his chest as they moved. John used his knife to bat away several exploratory jabs.

First rule of fighting an opponent with greater reach than you, and the troll had both a natural reach advantage and a weapon with much greater range, was to get closer, negate that distance. Unfortunately, he couldn’t just rush in blindly. When fighting unarmed, unless your foe outweighs you by a very large margin, you take a few shots getting in close, then take them to the ground. If he tried that here, he was likely to lose his head, literally long before he could get close. Plus, the troll did outweigh him by that margin. It was another bit of leverage he didn’t have.

When you’re smaller and shorter, you hope to be faster. The troll certainly didn’t seem slow. His spear struck like lightning. John leaned away, batting the shaft not the head this time. He’d been almost too slow as he tried to come up with a plan to win. If this was the ‘easy task’, he wasn’t looking forward to the next one!

The next spear-jab he batted with his tomahawk, thinking he could get inside its swing. Instead, his ax hooked on the halberd’s and locked up. The troll recognized this for the advantage it was and yanked back. John had no choice but to go with it or lose his weapon. More in desperation than cunning, he pulled, using the spear’s momentum to get himself close enough to chop at the juncture between the halberd head and the shaft with his knife.

“Sunder!” He barked and fell back on his ass as the metal came free from the rest.

That didn’t even faze the troll. It threw the pole at John and reached for its mace. The shaft he did manage to dodge, as he rolled forward and buried his tomahawk’s spike into the troll’s foot.

“Death!” He growled and rolled again to get behind the troll. And to avoid the massive metal ball as the troll buried it into the floor just behind him.

From the ground, he buried the spike in the troll’s ass and spat, “Death!” again. He barely pulled the weapon free before the troll’s bowels let loose. His third roll was much less graceful, but he avoided the poop splatter that the troll involuntarily squirted.

The shaggy creature collapsed onto its ass. It waved the mace weakly at him as he circled to get at its neck. He put the spike in each shoulder before attacking the spine with his knife. It wasn’t easy, cutting the troll’s head off while keeping out of the ever growing puddle of crap. And it only whimpered softly until he pulled the skull free, then flopped back, splashing the fecal matter all over.

“God damn it!” John cursed, jumping back.

He held up the head. “There, done!”

Nothing happened.

“Oh, right.” He chucked the hairy orb out of the circle.

The dragon’s image appeared immediately. It spoke quickly, “You have completed your first level Task. For your second level—T”

“Hold on!” He raised a palm. “You said I get the reward first.”

The dragon paused. “You wish to receive your reward at this time?”

“Yes. You said I get an increase... ?”

“You may elect to receive a general increase to all physical traits or all perception senses, or a much larger increase to a single physical trait or sense. Which do you choose?”

John wiped his blades off on the troll’s leg.

“Stop. If you use this time to stall, I will begin the second level Task immediately.” The dragon’s image warned.

“Okay, okay.” John motioned for her to calm down. “What physical traits and senses can I choose from?”

“Should you chose to accept an increase in a Perception trait, you may elect one of the following: Sight, Hearing, Smell, Taste, Touch, or Aura. Should you chose to accept an increase in a Physical trait, you may elect one of the following: Strength, Endurance, Speed, Agility, Dexterity, Fortitude, or Reserves.” The dragon told him.

John debated what would work best. Of the physical options, he knew unless the dragon gave him another three feet and a hundred-fifty pounds of muscle and bone, there was no way he would ever be strong enough to overpower a single troll or giant. Endurance wasn’t proving to be a big factor, and if it became one, he knew how to improve that trait. He hadn’t been any slower or clumsier than anything they’d been up against so far, either. So, while an increase in speed, agility or dexterity might give him an edge, he wasn’t sure they would be enough of a factor to ensure consistent success. On the other hand, his Sight was probably not going to be improved by any reward the dragon could give, either.

One thing he learned from some of the most dangerous operators on the planet, well, planet Earth anyway, was that a straight-up fight was the last way you wanted to go. You don’t open an uncleared closet door and stand in the doorway, you don’t take the unknown as first man into a corner-fed room, and when you’re operating in hostile territory, the first one to find the enemy gets to set up the ambush. There wasn’t any technology here, so in order to do that, he needed better senses than his foes. He’d already found that his Sight did have limitations. He needed a way to detect problems before they could see each other. That meant hearing or smell were contenders.

He fingered his pointed ear absently. If he was going to run around this crazy world with Trekkie ears, he might as well have fantastic hearing. He thought his was already slightly better than most, and if the dragon could give him an even greater edge there, he figured that would be the way to go.

“I’ll take an increase in hearing, please.” He said decisively.

The dragon’s image regarded him silently. Its eyes glowed, and his ears felt hot. An itching crawled into his auditory canal. His fingers came up involuntarily.

“If you interfere with the process, your reward will be reduced.” The dragon’s image warned him.

“Can you tell me how much of an increase you’re giving me?” He asked.

“Your defeat of the troll occurred in less time than projected, by half. Therefore, your normal increase in range and threshold will be half again greater.” The dragon’s image told him tonelessly.

Suddenly, he could hear the ghost crowd noise. Before they had been a low hum. Now he could hear bets yelled, and cheers for one of his friends. The dragon didn’t give him any time to enjoy it, though.

Chin pointed at one of their status monitors. The feed from John remained dead, but they could still observe his body and vitals. The arms and legs, with weights added to them, would periodically move so they had to keep a camera pointed at his harness. To ensure he didn’t tumble out, and more importantly, keep from disconnecting from First World. Everyone knew what would happen in that unfortunate case.

“Hey, uh, you might want to look at this!” He stared.

The General had come directly to the viewing room when she arrived. Watching a dead feed wasn’t what she’d expected, but they assured her it would come back, eventually. It was boring with nothing to view, but she’d at least get the update directly from the screens when, or if they came back to life. She leaned over Chin’s shoulder.

“What is it?”

“Look!” He pointed at the camera feed from John in harness.

“That’s John, I know. Why?” She sounded confused.

“Look at his ear!” The tech pointed.

He maximized the player on its computer.

“Oh, my god!” The General breathed.

Mason’s hand mashed the intercom button.

“Lock-down! Lock-down! Quarantine procedures in effect!” He repeated himself twice more as alarms began to blare.

He turned to Mariana and Veronyka.

“Well, doctors, which of you gets to go in there and figure out what happened?”

“And whether we get to live.” Johnson added quietly.

The ice dome doubled in size, and the white circle moved to within two paces from the wall. A frost giant walked into the dome, just like the troll had. He wore the same spartan-style helmet, though instead of a diamond decorating it, a ring of eight small horns encircled the brow. His torso bore an iron-studded, fur-edged leather vest, with greave-plated pants that ended at bare feet. His belt bore blades of differing lengths, and his leather-gauntlet-clad hand held an enormous iron, spiked morning-star ball on a long, thick chain. The stone floor in the center of the circle bulged, morphing into a mound that grew until everything inside the dome sloped up to the crest. It wasn’t an extreme slope, but was enough to place the top at his head’s height if he were standing right at the white line. The giant’s feet stuck to the ice-coated rock like glue as he marched up to stand on the peak.

“For your second level Task: dislodge an opponent from a superior position. Conditions: you must continue to use only what you have on your body. You must remain within the circle.” The giant stomped, spread his feet and began swinging the flail in an orbit over his head with both hands. “Victory conditions are: when your opponent is entirely outside the circle. Failure conditions: death, or leaving the circle, voluntarily or by force. Do you understand?”

“I understand.” John studied the giant curiously.

“Begin.” The dragon’s image winked out.

“Come, little Alfyr!” The giant boomed. “Sukmynyr the Mighty loves to play Mountain Master. Show me your skill!”

If that metal planetoid scored even a glancing blow, John was dead. Even a single spike would shatter bone, and rip the muscle from his limbs. The chain was long enough that Sukmynyr would have no problem hitting him halfway up the slope.

“King of the fucking Hill! Fuck me running!” John snarled.

Just running up the hill was likely to get him killed. The flail was swinging so fast now, its uneven edge made a nasty whistling sound. The giant didn’t even look like doing so required any effort on his part. In John’s Sight, its only weakness was heat. Unfortunately, John’s only source for heat was Gentle Breeze, and he hadn’t had a whole lot of practice throwing his tomahawk with precision. There was only a small band of skin showing between the bottom of the giant’s leather vest, lifted by his arms being extended over his head, and the belt around his waist. Small relative to the giant’s overall height anyway.