The Hunt for the Dragon Master

By Ludvig Solvang

Bazan and his gang turn parts of their home town into a Goth City.

They use Augmented Reality to make a birthday present for Schwarzen, and soon the whole school knows about it. The students gather on Memorial Square to see a new and different cityscape. Totally unexpected, a band turns up and plays a concert in AR. During the concert, a terrible dragon appears. With nostrils like flame throwers, it burns down Goth City and kills a lot of avatars.

How could that happen? Nkwabe and his geek squad start investigating, while the others concentrate on how to neutralize the dragon.

Phoebe Hester hates her name, and calls herself PH. She re­invents herself as a human avatar in Real World, adopt the name of Phioz, and travels to The Other City in disguise. From the girls she goes shopping with, she learns about The Legend of Bazan the Evil Beast. To help Bazan to find out more, she canges his whole appearance. They travel together to The Other City as Phioz and Grossman. Here he meets Vita. She helps him find out, the Dragon Master has a secret agent called LilSis.

LilSis has spread the rumours that give Bazan a bad reputation both in Real World and in cyberspace. Vita has a crush on Bazan, or rather his human avatar. Bazan likes Vita too, but she has only met his part time personality called Grossman. To counter The Legend of Bazan the Evil Beast, Bazan and his friends decide to build a spectacular and beautiful world in cyberspace. After weeks of hard labour, they open the world of the seven ancient wonders to the public.

The opening night is a great success. Teenagers from all over town, and some from The Other Town, come to Azania. Goth City was spectacular. This world is even better. Evin and her band had their concert in Goth City interrupted by the dragon. Now they try again in Azania. It should be safe, since this world is built inside the fortifications of a large, commercial company.

But the Dragon Master finds a way around all protection that Acme Inc. has to offer their customers. The islands and the sea floor morph into a terrible serpent, hundreds of avatars are killed, and the world is destroyed. Those avatars are valuable, you have to game around a week to get one, and the kids are furious. Did Bazan make his world, only to lure avatars into it to destroy them? The Dragon Master is running a smear campaign in cyberspace against Bazan.

Having received the informations about the Dragon Master's secret agent LilSis, Bazan hasn't any reason to go to The Other City. Except that he wants to meet Vita again. But Vita doesn't know him. She wants to see Grossman. Miracles are rare, but might happen. One of those miracles helps Bazan and his friends to win the propaganda war. Now, everybody who had their avatars destroyed in Azania, are mad at the Dragon Master and his secret agent LilSis. Robin has plotted all events in the grid, to study the connections closer.

He hatches a plan: Bazan must identify LilSis, and use that knowledge to neutralize the Dragon Master.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ludvig Solvang
• Release date: Jan 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310144998

Book preview

The Hunt for the Dragon Master

Acknowledgment

Cover by John Nordhus

Thanks to Julian and Bill Powelson

for providing technical assistance and cyberspace knowledge,

and Christina for encouragement and help

Copyright

All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof,

may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

If you still do, we ask you to support the author.

after reading if you enjoyed the book.

Copyright © 2015 by Ludvig Solvang

Table of content

Title

Acknowledgement

Copyright

2.1 Red barns

2.2 Black shoes

2.3 Painting season

2.4 Cool

2.5 Hoodie

2.6 Her daughter’s folly

2.7 Ears like ailerons

2.8 A monkey on my shoulders

2.9 Paranoid biker?

2.10 The hunt starts

2.11 Second day of the dragon

2.12 Flugzeugabwehrkanone

2.13 Revenge!

2.14 Bazan the beast

2.15 Disguise

2.16 Phioz and Grossman

2.17 Liars on a train

2.18 Who is LilSis?

2.19 Retreat

2.20 Azania

2.21 Help me, P!

2.22 Idiot!...?

2.23 Concert at Versailles

2.24 Destruction

2.25 TOM

2.26 Lanp and circunstance

2.27 The chosen one

2.28 Sugar and honey and lollipops

2.29 I hate you, Bazan

2.30 No answers

2.31 Official girlfriend

2.32 Transforming LilSis

2.33 A dragon-free night

2.1 Red barns

School had somehow disintegrated, at least it was positioned below my horizon of interest. I enjoyed the sun and the absence of homework, while slumbering in a chair in the garden. But summer holidays are not only leisure.

Two days after school had ended, my mother initiated a project in our garden. These flowers were to be moved from here and over there, and those flowers from there and over here, for reasons unknown. She volunteered me for the task.

After hours of hard labour, I was drenched in sweat and dirt. Were those flowers worth it at all?

My sister appeared. Sometimes I have the impression, she was born as an inspector, always letting others know what they should have done. Or at least letting me know. Better take the initiative.

Welcome to this garden exhibition, I said, and offered her my hand as an invitation to the event.

She didn't think it over, shook my hand and screamed: You're dirty!

Workman's privilege. I went for the shower.

I was clean when I entered the kitchen where Mother had put an omelette with bacon, mushrooms and boiled eggs on the table.

I wish you wouldn't tease your sister all the time, she said.

I felt obliged to protest: It isn't all the time. Besides, it's fun.

Fun for you, maybe. Mum sat down at the kitchen table. But not always for my me. Do you remember when you chased your sister through the house with that toenail on a saucer?

Yes, I remembered. Sis had screamed at the top of her voice, and had run away as fast as she could.

But do you recall what happened to the big palm in the hall? Mother asked.

No, not exactly. Yes, I could remember there had been a palm in the hall, but it wasn't there anymore. So, what had happened to the palm?

Your sister banged into it, trying to avoid your toenail, Mum informed me. The palm crashed onto the floor and destroyed its big pot I bought in Mexico. You can't imagine how much trouble I had to get it on the plane. The trunk of the palm was broken. Who do you think cleaned up the mess, and filled the bin with a three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle of a magnificent Mexican terracotta pot?

I could imagine. But I could not remember more of the whole affair than my sister’s epic screams.

For my sake, Bazan. Please. And don't underestimate your sister. Every time you're teasing her, you are running a risk...

I knew. Some of my pranks had turned nasty. For me.

I will try, Mother, I promised. But I cannot guarantee anything. It's been like a lifestyle... or something.

Loud music pushed its way out from the living room. Sis played oldies-music from Father's collection.

Turn it down! Mother shouted. Sis increased the volume.

Fat Jack, where are you going.... A singer, probably dead long ago, filled the room, carried on a magic carpet of fuzz guitar.

Mother threw herself forward to reach the switch.

What are you doing? Mum asked her daughter.

Just a little music for the inhabitants, the young lady explained. And after an explanation that wasn't, she was gone.

Mother looked like she was about to laugh and had to run out to turn off the water in the garden. I went back to my chair, feeling I could rest in peace after a day's hard work.

Then I was left alone for a few days. After I had finished resting, I began to get bored. Where were everybody? My family was easy.

Father was in some archives, entertaining himself with his genealogy research and ancient paper. Probably from late bronze age or similar.

Sis... as usual I hadn't the faintest idea where she was, with whom, and what they were doing.

Mum had a project with some other ladies, all probably members of the mother network, who came and left, with or without my mother.

Then I discovered, Michael was in Germany with his grandparents. Robin could not be reached. Schwarzen worked at a nursing home in the countryside where she had a room, and March had travelled to a family gathering with her parents.

I was left alone. No, not entirely. I met Jane at the supermarket; her whole gang would be in town this summer, and this evening they were going to BBQ. Jane bought vegetables and bacon, ham and mushrooms. In front of the fish, she turned to me:

Will you join us?

Eh...no, I don't think so, have things to do, I said.

A BBQ with Jane and her gang would have been nice, but I didn't want to go. The reason was a girl I called P.

Oh, come on. You are not that busy, Jane countered, and was perfectly right.

My mother has employed me as her garden workforce....

Not after seven pm.? We'll meet at PH's place...

I told her I didn't have the opportunity to go to P's place, and Jane asked what it was between me and PH.

Nothing, I said. Absolutely nothing.

I don't believe you. None of you. Jane put her nose up, and left me by the fish.

If truth is like a rubber band, my reason for not coming to the BBQ, was like stretching the rubber band until it almost burst. Jane had been sceptical about my explanations, and I understood why. But when the truth wasn't stretched or distorted in any way, she didn't believe me at all!

The fact was, I hadn't seen P since the evening we were forced to step out of our avatars and meet in Real World. And I had the distinct impression, P didn't want to see me in RW.

I wouldn't go to Jane's BBQ. No way!

Back in the garden, I put up the hammock. With a line attached to a nearby tree, I could make the hammock swing with a twist of my wrist. I had something to drink, soft music from my device, and I played a simple game. Comfortably boring.

Then a shockwave of water hit me. I don't know what I did, or why I did it, but it made the hammock turn around and spit me to the ground.

I heard my sister's happy laughter: You are not invulnerable, you know.

That wasn't a decent thing to do, I told her, and erected my dripping body. The hammock was wet and couldn't be used before tomorrow.

Probably not, Sis said. But you wouldn't have hesitated if the situation was the other way around, and you were in the mood? Would you?

Probably not, I said.

Armistice?

I agreed and headed for my room to change into something dry. Sis halted me:

And please Bazan, can't you let that old tracksuit find peace in the bin?

Why? I mean, why can't I just dry it?

Sis gave me her big sister to little brother-look, even if she is the younger. Of course, you can dry your wet tracksuit. And I ask you please not to. Throw it in the bin! You are an eyesore in your tracksuits and sneakers.

After that salvo, she let me go and find dry clothes. It was mostly tracksuits. I changed to a dry one, and avoided my sister the rest of the day.

I was bored in my room, when I came to think about what had I done last summer at this time?

Yes, I was out in the wilderness with OorT, experiencing countless hitherto unknown phenomena. Like Ahmed with the many-dimensional grid of individuals and families in his head. Or OorT's reality like a bubble-theory.

I hadn't seen OorT for a while, and called. He was home, and his face was red.

I asked if he had installed a red light in his room. No, he explained, his face was red because he was an idiot.

I have painted without a mask before, and it worked fine. I didn't think about it today, when the wind tossed some of the paint in my face. I can't use too strong agents to remove it. What is left, must stay until it disappears by itself.

It sounded strange to me. OorT a painter? Did he paint mountains and trees, or portraits, for instance?

Barns, he said. I am painting barns for the farmers. Red barns. What are you doing?

I revealed to him that I was investigating the many aspects of boredom.

He told me to lift my bottom from what I was sitting on, and head for the outback. He needed an assistant.

The plot was, OorT had helped his father painting the house in an efficient process involving a lift and spray painting. A nearby farmer liked this, and asked OorT to paint his barn.

I rented the lift, got a good price now because it's summer. But it's hard work. If we were two, one could rest while the other painted. Besides, there are extras like moving the lift, making paint ready for the next shift, getting rid of the empty buckets and so on.

Travel to OorT, paint a barn and then go home. Didn't sound too bad. But that wasn't what OorT had in mind: I have deals with more farmers. There's money in it. Can you come?

We discussed the details, closed, and I approached my parents. Father had dug in behind his ancient paperwork, and my mother was watching a movie for females. I sat down with Dad, and told him I was going to OorT to paint barns.

U.., hum.., eh, yes. Good, my father said. Then, approaching the surface, he asked why OorT couldn't paint himself.

He does. But it's this lift he has rented. We have to utilize the time with the lift... I said.

Who has a lift? You are not going into it Bazan, are you? The possibly dangerous word lift had pierced the illusion of California on the screen, and had caught my mother's attention.

OorT has a lift, I said, and told her about my trip.

You are not going. Absolutely not! Mother tried to cancel my initiative.

Dad was lurking just under the surface after returning from the unknown depth of his genealogical research. He scrutinized both of us with one eye like a periscope over the papers he had been reading, loaded his weapon, unleashed it, and torpedoed Mum's veto:

Do you think OorT's mother would let her son do something dangerous?

No, but... Mother didn't like the situation.

But what? Listen dear, if you do think OorT's mother is wrong, just say it. Then Bazan will stay home. Father dived behind his papers.

No, it isn't that. It is... I am afraid something could happen to him. Mother worried along a well-known path.

Dad surfaced again: They use the lift because it's much safer than a ladder or a scaffold.

Mum sighed, and meant yes. Dad and I left to buy tickets.

2.2 Black Shoes

Would it be an idea to wear something other than a tracksuit? I mean, since I was going to travel, I might as well look good. I hadn't forgotten my sister's eyesore.

But none of my other clothes seemed to fit. I felt as I was choking, when I tried to put on some of my jumpers. The trousers stopped far above my ankles. Besides, my belly was too large.

I realized that I was going to travel in a tracksuit, and decided to wear my best one. Then the sneakers. Didn't look good. Worn and dirty.

Somewhere, I was sure, I had a pair of leather shoes. They had been far too large when Mother bought them. Now they fitted!

Which means; the shoes suited me, not so much my sister :

You can't wear those with a tracksuit.

I would like to know why not?

You simply can't. Can Not! Sis turned to our mother:

Lock the door. I simply refuse to let him out among other people in that outfit!

I still would like to know...

Because sneakers and tracksuit are kind of style. For lazy people who don't bother, yes. But black leather shoes and a tracksuit show you're totally out of... Sis didn't have the proper words for her disgust, but she quickly regained momentum:

I have a social reputation to think of. If people asked me, I wouldn't like to confirm, yes, that freak is my brother. Besides, I feel a certain responsibility...

I placed those nice, black shoes where I found them, and reappeared in sneakers. My sister said:

Mother, you can unlock the door.

My father can be boring, and I knew there would be no more drama when he followed me to the station. I found a seat, showed my ticket, and began to travel.

I looked out of my window, and could see us passing another train, standing on parallel tracks. But we seemed to be moving in the wrong direction.

When we passed the last coach of the other train, I realized, my train was still motionless. It was the other train that had moved.

Then I felt my own train beginning our journey. Outside my window, I could see the town transform into suburban areas, and then a wide landscape of farms with cows and sheep on them.

Still the other train went back and forth in my head. I had believed my train moved when it was the other one.

The train was almost empty, and by coincidence I was alone in my compartment. It made me think of OorT's bubble-theory.

The compartment was my bubble, and inside it I was travelling along the surface of the earth at great speed. Outside a changing landscape, inside I can place my bottle on the little table, and it remains in reach.

Who is really moving? I began to think about the other train, the one that moved. What if I, and my compartment, were standing still, and it was the earth that moved? Not impossible. I couldn't feel any movement.

Let's assume, I and my compartment are motionless. It means the world, the universe and everything moves around me.

Yes, I was comfortable with that way of seeing things. Furthermore, if I was the centre of the universe, I must also be the master of the universe.

On the other hand, it could be hard to convince others.

More stations, people in and out, some were also entering my compartment. I felt my privacy invaded, and reduced my bubble to my seat, my device, the little table and the world outside my window. Other passengers ceased to exist.

Farm after farm passed by my window, and all had barns. Red barns. The world outside was littered with red barns. I never noticed before.

Why are all barns red? I asked OorT on one occasion.

Red paint was cheapest, he said.

And then, red barns became fashion before they turned into habit and tradition. Why is your barn green when all the others are red? I could imagine two farmers talking together about the topic.

Without me knowing, I had spent hours and hours on the train, and I suddenly realized I was getting off at the next station. OorT and his mother