Sir Gawain and the Dragon 7
18/04/2005
(to read the first episode, click here)
The dragon raised itself up so that it seemed to fill the space between floor and ceiling, then blew an experimental blast of flame in Gawain's direction. The knight moved easily out of the way but felt the heat wash over him even so.

"Ah, yes," said the dragon in a deep and hollow voice, flames licking and crackling from his mouth. "That seems to be in working order." He looked down at Gawain through glowing red eyes. "Not quite so confident now, hey, little fellow? Never heard of interchangeable skins?" His mouth opened wide and he breathed out a series of short blasts of fire accompanied by hissing sounds that Gawain assumed was the closest the dragon could get to laughter.

"They are not usually quite so radical," replied the knight wryly.

"Well, that's Visual Basic for you, little one. Amazing what clever stuff they can do these days."

He sent another stream of flame spearing across the room at Gawain. Once again, the knight side-stepped to avoid it. Then, in rapid succession, the dragon blew several blasts towards Gawain and the knight found himself leaping and dodging to avoid them all. But the flames were bouncing off the walls and reflecting such heat that Gawain knew he could not survive this dance for long. He must end this quickly or there would be but one outcome.

As the dragon began to rake the room with fire, forcing Gawain to maximum speed in his weaving and bounding and ducking, the knight started to work his way closer. With each avoidance he made sure that he narrowed the distance a little more and soon he was beneath the level of most of the blasts. Realizing this, the dragon suddenly brought his head swooping to the floor and sent a curtain of flame rolling across the room, inches above the surface.

Gawain leaped forward, flames lashing at his feet as he sailed over, and with one movement as he touched down, he sent his sword swinging through the air in a lightning-fast and savage arc, slicing through the dragon's neck as though it were paper. The head went flying through the air with the force of the blow, landed and bounced once, before crashing to a stop in a corner. A flame licked from its mouth and died.

Above the knight, the huge body shivered and wavered as though in the first stages of collapse. Carried by the speed of his jump, Gawain careered on until he was behind the massive bulk of his foe. He turned then to watch its downfall.

And yet it did not fall. Like a punch-drunk prize fighter, it staggered sideways and away from the knight, tail and neck thrashing in agony. As it crashed against the wall it seemed about to collapse but steadied itself as though coming to its senses. For a moment it stood still and then slowly the long neck turned towards the knight.

Incredibly, the dragon's head was still attached to the neck. Once again the great mouth opened and that sibilant laughter tortured the air. "Fine stroke, Sir Gawain," the dragon breathed through the fire at its lips. "But not fine enough, you see. ‘Tis called self replication. And see now how you have made your plight the worse." The great head moved in a gesture to indicate the far corner of the room.

A great glow of light had blossomed in that corner and now, as it faded from white hot to dull crimson, the shape of another dragon emerged. A duplicate, burst from the ruins of its decapitation, and now fixing its stare upon the knight. Gawain backed away in dismay.

Two streams of fire now roared out at the knight and it was all that he could do to leap upwards as the flames shot through beneath him. Like a wave they curled at the wall and he was caught in the backwash as he landed, for a moment a dark figure engulfed in heat and light. He felt the incandescence racing through his arteries, slowing and devouring his processes, and then the flames were gone and the dragons about to blast him yet again.

But in that moment, Gawain had seen something that gave him hope. Before the fires could come surging at him again, he jumped to the side and ran through the doorway. In the tunnel he turned immediately and waited, sword at the ready.

And it was only moments before a monstrous head poked its way through the doorway, its fiery eye round with surprise as it saw its doom flashing down upon it. The sword cut through and the head fell into the tunnel, the neck disappearing back into the room. Gawain stepped forward and kicked the head through the doorway.

Echoing into the tunnel came the dragon's voice. "You fool, Gawain. Now you shall have three of us to roast you."

The knight nodded once as the voice confirmed his hope. Then a dragon's head shot through the opening and lunged at him, and it was at the last nanosecond that Gawain managed to dart to the side and bring his sword crashing down upon the neck. Once more the head fell to the floor and the neck withdrew. And again he kicked the vile head back into the room.

There was a pause before that terrible voice broke the silence again.

"And ... now ... there ... are ... four. You ... cannot ... win."

Gawain stepped into the room and strode quickly to the nearest dragon. His sword swung once and another head bounced upon the floor. As the fires began slowly to roll towards him, he stepped away and then to the side, the sword flashed and yet one more dragon's head fell from its neck. So he swept through the room until all four lay kicking slowly and the glow of heads regenerating was but a dull glimmer. Only one succeeded in its growth to stare at the knight from its prone and feeble collapse.

"What ... is ... happening? I ... don't ... understand." The words oozed from its mouth in painful breaths.

Gawain stood before it a moment and leaned upon his sword. "There are too many instances of you, Mordred. You have drained the system resources and if I create one more of you, there will be nothing left."

He raised the sword then, stepped forward, and brought it flashing down. The huge body rolled aside and the head lay where it fell. All was still in the room. Gawain, too, stood motionless, drained of energy, exhausted by the fight.

Yet he could still move, his processes protected and requiring so little from the system. And he moved at last, a few tired steps to the desktop, where the box lay open still. He leaned against the desk and waited.

Then the Geek was there, his face a picture of astonishment at the carnage on his screen. "Bloody hell, Gawain. Have you been playing war games?"

Sir Gawain smiled wearily. "No, Boss, just a few trophies for you." He swept up the box and held it out to the Geek. "And I brought you this..."

The Geek read, understanding dawning on his face. He looked round once, then spoke quietly to the knight. "PADCI. That's a terrorist group, isn't it? I know what to do with this. If I can just get the address for the CEO's email."

"Oh, that reminds me," said Gawain. "You'll probably find it here." He passed across the copied address list from Andy's emailer.

The Geek scanned it quickly and nodded. "Yup, it's here alright. Hang on a second." His fingers rattled out a message on the keyboard, he attached the box and hit the Send button. As the message flew out he looked up at the knight again.

"That should do it, I think. Can't see young Andy hanging around here much longer." He paused and surveyed the huge bodies cluttering the room. "Gawain, where the heck did all these dragons come from?"

"Oh them," replied the knight nonchalantly. "They're all that's left of the new defender. And you know what? They're all named Mordred." He laughed then, the relief and achievement welling up from his core. "I'd hit Control, Alt, Delete, if I were you."

Clive

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