The puzzle consisted of a series of levers. Each had to be pulled at just the right time, in just the right order. If not, a chamber to the left was opened and some high-level monster would come bounding into the room, fangs bared. The correct series of lever pulls could be gleaned from a wall chockablock with foreign glyphs, helical runes, tapestries cut into the ice depicting pagan triumphs, that would be all but inscrutable at first, but through careful interpretation over a long enough period of time the answer would I’m sure suddenly arrive like a bolt from the blue, and I’d kick myself for not getting it sooner. I’d feel so edified at getting a handle on this ancient language, for having solved a challenge put before me with naught but my wits. It seems there was nothing to do but get right down to it, get a pencil and paper out, make some guesses. Now which letter appears the most..

Nah, on second thought, I wasn’t feeling this.

I uprooted one of the levers with a maxed-out Telekinesis spell and launched it into the illuminated wall. The whole thing went crashing down, all those millenia-old runes made into splinters of ice. I stepped over the wreckage towards a bulging treasure chest revealed by the demolition.

What they’d said about the Wailing Alpine turned out to be true: I got a natty new set of woolen bracers, surprisingly good for a green-name, or at least better than whatever trash I had filling the place the Ancient gauntlets had left. All I had to do for them was a bit of quick thinking and Yeti killing. I should’ve moved up north ages ago, I thought.

The chamber was large and empty, so I allowed myself to whistle a jaunty tune as I walked through it. A catchy drinking song I’d just learned from the natives reverberated throughout the walls of the frost-covered cavern.

Something rumbled. I quit whistling mid-melody. I crouched in place, easing my longsword from its sheath, eyes darting all about the room hoping to catch sight of what was coming before it did me.

Another rumble. My sword was out, and I was stealing backwards out the way I came. I figured that if it was big enough to make a commotion like that, it was too big to be worth my time. I’d have to find another way through the mountain, maybe waterwalking worked on other cliff faces..

I stepped on someone’s foot, and they gave a yelp, cursing in their mother tongue.

I wheeled around and saw Jan Erik clutching his foot, hopping in place.

“Uff da, you must be careful where you step”. Just as I was wondering how exactly one says “fuck off” in Northern, the rumbling increased, making the two of us turn our attention to its source, which had finally saw fit to reveal itself.

An Ice Drake! Its serpentine body made up of delicate, diaphanous crystals that interlocked and rippled as the beast appraised us quietly, cocking its head. I turned my head towards Jan Erik, saying as quietly as I could,

“Don’t move a muscle. They can only detect motion and sound”.

“What did you say”, asked Jan Erik, naturally a little soft out of fear, but still too loud.

“Um, how do you say this, Ikke… uh.. Bevege…”

“Hva sa du for noe?” The drake picked up on our location and crept over, flicking its spiked tail around, opening its maw to reveal three rows of razor-sharp canines.

“Goddammit Jan Erik. This is not fucking happening”, under my breath. I tried to steel myself. They say drakes are nowhere near as difficult as dragons. But dragons are immortal, what kind of reassurance is that? Keen reflexes, claws, teeth, tail, that can cut through any armor. Fuck, it’ll kill me before I even know what happened.

Fear overtook Jan Erik. He made to run, but slipped on the floor, which was a naked sheet of ice. He ran in place kicking uselessly, first to propel himself, though now that he’d lost his balance, they were only acting to keep him from stumbling flat on his face. The more he kicked, the worse his balance got, and it wasn’t long before the whole charade ended with a comical pratfall, right on his ass.

The Drake lunged. I brought my blade up to block the blow, and while I did block it, the impact sent me skidding into the shards of ice I’d made the wall into. Jan Erik ducked down with his hands over his head. It really was a good idea to buy a new sword: I managed to get one more block in before the poor thing snapped in half. At that the Drake took to chasing me across the hall, and, seeing as there wasn’t much hall to cross, it wasn’t long before I was hopelessly cornered. I closed my eyes, made an incantation, leapt up and..

I opened my eyes. I was running. But everything was sideways now. Funny. I looked down and saw my legs running along the rock wall of the chamber, rounding a corner, and heading back towards the entrance, with the Drake right behind me. We were going in circles around the room!

It wised up and saw to cut me off at the entrance, so I made an about-face, running in place for a second, before leaping off the wall and sliding towards the other end of the chamber. I heard the monster loping after me. I Blinked backwards, hoping for the best.

The Drake went tumbling into the wall, clawing at the ice as it went, trying to stop its destined course. A hollow sound rang out through the cave.

I sank down on the ice, exhausted. Jan Erik ran over and patted me on the back, vigorously shook my hand.

“Well done!”, he exclaimed.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

I got up and informed my companion that I intended to make sure the beast was dead. I patted my chest, mumbled an Ancient paternoster, made a fist that I brought forward slowly as if I were retracting something from my solar plexus. In a sense I was.

I clutched it in both hands, the mystical Shillelagh. The only thing I had at my disposal which could break the skin of a Drake. Usually too unwieldy to use in combat, I reserved my use of the weapon to corner cases like this one. I approached the unconscious Drake and raised it over my head.

The tail sprang to life, whipping me in the side. The Shillelagh went spinning towards the other end of the room. Too fast to do a thing about it. The wind was absolutely knocked out of me. I clutched my bleeding side and gasped for breath that I was in too much pain to take in.

The Ice Drake rose up and bared its fangs. I suppose it was intending to succeed where I had failed, in “making sure the beast was dead”.

I heard a strained sort of war cry, and was graced with the sight of Jan Erik charging towards the Drake, sword drawn. The reason as to why he chose to grow a spine right about then is still lost on me, but it was a welcome occurrence nonetheless. It gave me all the time I needed to focus my Telekinesis on the dropped Shillelagh, and as he was effortlessly shook off by a tail attack, I trained all my remaining mana on hefting the weapon. It rattled in place, then floated up slowly. I drew my arm back and launched it straight at the Drake’s head.

It moved its neck to the side, dodging the blow. The mystical Shillelagh dug into the wall before fizzling out. It wasn’t going to be that easy.

I Blinked away, then froze. I stopped breathing. The Drake lost sight of me, stalking around, looking to pick up on the slightest disturbance so it could finish the job. It approached me drooling, whipping its tail. It paused in front of me for so long that I could’ve sworn it was messing with me, only to turn around and investigate the other side of the room. I reached into my boot ever so slightly, groping after that armor-piercing knife. What, maybe you thought I’d left it in the forest? Fat chance. I got my fingers around it and retracted it as noiselessly as possible, shuddering as my cheeks turned blue from lack of air. I gripped it by the blade, aimed it at the passing Drake -

My lungs gave out. I took in air with a series of loud, greedy gulps.

The Drake zeroed in on my position. It bounded across the ice like a dog after a ball. I launched the knife.

It dug into the monster’s cheek, enveloped in flickering magical fire. The scales of the Ice Drake melted on contact. The knife must have done a decent amount of damage, even with its miserable DPS, considering that it stopped my opponent in their tracks. It reared up in pain.

I produced my bow and nocked a fire arrow. I drew a bead on the Drake, then loosed. It went arcing through the air, and at the apex of its flight it sprang to life with a glowing golden flame.

The arrow dove in - getting the beast right in the eye. It roared, flailed, now it backed away from me instead of me away from it. I had to be careful. An animal is most dangerous when it's backed into a corner.

I shot a quick look over at Jan Erik, who was doubled up on the ground.

“You alright over there?” I saw a big tear in his leather armor and feared the worst, or I guess I didn’t care too much. He got up though, gripping his side in pain. He reached in through the tear and retracted something wrapped in a heap of serviettes.

“Åh nei, matpakka mi!”

He held up one of his open-faced sandwiches and looked right through where the tail had cut a hole in the bread. It seemed that his lunch had done something to lessen the blow. Good for Jan Erik, I thought, and turned back towards the limping Drake.

I ran forward, the two halves of my longsword whipping around me, my hand out slightly to maintain Telekinesis.

I reached out: the top half soared into the Drake and caromed off its body, then it lunged again as the other half approached, making its first attack, just as merciless as its partner. By the quick succession of the sword’s halves’ attacks I forced the Drake backwards. It hardly even tried to fend them off, still mourning the golden fire which raged in its skull. I closed my hand into a fist. The two halves converged -

Out of mana. My method of attack fell to the ground. I doubled over, dry heaving. I had skipped breakfast that morning on account of the miserable fare offered by the inn. Two slices of bread topped with a kind of fish in tomato sauce that I couldn't stand.

Fat lot of good my pickiness did me now. What was I thinking, spellslinging on an empty stomach? That must surely be why my Telekinesis fizzled out. I needed some kind of nourishment to finish the job…

“Gimme the matpakka”, I said, making my way over to Jan Erik.

“What did you say?”, putting his hand to his ear.

“Jeg.. uh.. vil ha matpakka”, and gestured toward his lunch to emphasize my point.

“Ah ok!”, he said as he handed it over. “Your Northern is very good”, and he couldn’t stop himself from grimacing at that blatant courtesy.

Jan Erik looked on as I demolished his pack lunch. Open-faced sandwich after open-faced sandwich, I bolted them down. One with dried meat and a slice of white cheese, that went down easy. Another with herring in a sort of mustard sauce, ok, not as bad as I would’ve thought.

Then I get to one, and it’s smothered with preserves, together with a piece of some brown material.

“Jan Erik, what exactly is that?”

“Brunost”, he answered, a little chirpier than I would’ve expected for someone who’d just had their lunch stolen. “Brown cheese, you must try it”, he insisted. I can’t say I was thrilled to try a cheese of any color other than white, yellow, or blue, but I needed that last bit of energy. Gods give me strength. I bit into the sandwich.

It tasted a bit like caramel? I suppose? I think you’d have to try it for yourself, only I wouldn’t actually recommend trying it for yourself.

I felt the mana welling up again. I’d have enough for the Shillelagh if I could just finish the sandwich.

“What’s in this stuff?”.

“Brown cheese”, he answered, pleased with the effect it had on me. “Very nutritious”. He produced a canteen and a couple little cups. He poured hot coffee into them.

I washed down the flavor of the cheese while the Drake flailed around and burned to death at the other end of the room. I took another bite, and while I struggled my way through Jan Erik went rooting in his bag again. He emerged with a stick of something wrapped in colored paper.

"Will you have a little?", passing it towards me. I took it and opened it, turned out it was a candy bar. I thought why not, bit into it, and found that at its center was a sort of chocolate-covered biscuit with a pleasant crunch. The Drake wailed in agony.

"Thanks, Jan Erik. That really hit the spot", I said, getting up again. "Now, I'd better put the poor thing out of its misery".

I approached the Drake again, the magical weapon in one hand, the last bit of chocolate in the other.