Tome of the Hydra: Monitor Takes the Challenge (11 Apr 2003) Monitor the Dragon faces the Tome of the Hydra.

The mists part, revealing a great ruined chamber, a temple built within a cavern, though many of its tapering columns have collapsed, and others have been worn away or buried in mineral deposits by the rivulets of water that trickle through cracks in the walls and run town a sloping, shadowy tunnel. Flickering torch-light illuminates the cavern only dimly, casting strange shadows across the walls ... but some of the shadows move, revealing themselves to be more than mere tricks of the light.

Nine serpentine heads weave amongst the columns, their amber eyes fixing upon the intruder. They flick their forked tongues, and writhe about, as unseen claws scrape against the stone floor. "One" "comes" "to" "see" "us," five heads hiss. The other four answer, "He" "must" "answer" "us."

Standing on a pedestal, is an ancient and weathered tome. A serpentine tail whips out of the darkness, and flips the cover open. The pages flip, and then lay flat, revealing some odd groups of words and numbers.

"Nine heads hath the hydra, and nine puzzles to ask of thee," says the first head.

"Each puzzle be a box," the second one says, "and each box has nine squares."

"Look!" exclaims the third.

"Doest thou see a pattern?" the fourth asks.

"Do not be lulled, if thou thinkest some of these too easy," the fifth warns.

"None of the hydra's heads are obliged to follow the same rules," the sixth explains.

"See if thou can reckon what might go in the empty box, and be thou prepared to defend thy answer," the seventh hisses.

"But the ninth head of the hydra be contrary," the eighth says slyly.

Grinning, the ninth head says, "He has left three squares empty, for thee to fill in."

The heads writhe again, pulling back, darting out, and changing places.

The first head speaks: "Complete my square: eve, even, never; mat, tame, meaty; par, rapt ... then what?"

The second head speaks: "Complete my square: love, joy, peace; patience, kindness, generosity; faithfulness, gentleness ... then what?"

The third head speaks: "Complete my square: meat, team, tame; meal, lame, male; pat, tap ... then what?"

The fourth head speaks: "Complete my square: 2, 4, 16; 1, 1, 1, 3, 9 ... then what?"

The fifth head speaks: "Complete my square: X, H, W; T, A, E; L, Z ... then what?"

The sixth head speaks: "Complete my square: star, tear, won; own, rats, rate; tare, now ... then what?"

The seventh head speaks: "Complete my square: angle, alone, none; triangle, company, single; square, crowd ... then what?"

The eighth head speaks: "Complete my square: N, D, R; U, C, U; N, O ... then what?"

The ninth head speaks: "Complete my square: Steno, Euryale ... then what? Urd, Verdandi ... then what? Shadrach, Meshach ... then what?"

A silence falls upon the cavern, as all nine heads stare....

Monitor 's own bulky form makes up a great blotch of darkness in the mist, the glint of his steely hide dulled by the dim light. The forest of spines along his back clatters as he stews over the puzzled posed, his broad, scaly brow furrowed and his long snout twisted into a horrible grimace at the almost mocking serpents arrayed before him. "Hhhhhrr... long has it been since Monitor deigned to play at riddles like a wyrmling," he mutters, more to himself than to the hydra. "Time has eaten away at me... the game seems different now. Oh, for the simple days of impertinent mortal specks and their badgering..." Thedragon fixes his gaze on the first head, one slit, teacup-sized eye squinting at it. "Words... three letters, then four letters, then five. I see little pattern to the letters added... perhaps first a vowel, then a consonant, but... nothing comes to me to make from that, and 'y' can be a vowel. I will add an 'a' then, and make the word 'apart'. Does this satisfy you, cousin?"

"That will suffice," the first head says, nodding in approval.

The steely wyrm's wings lift out and re-settle, and a few creases on his forehead smooth out. Mulling over the second head's challenge, however, the creases return and in force. "Peace, love, faith, kindness... all things Monitor has never felt, never cared for. The only one of these I know, joy... joy in winging through the heavens, in bringing destruction to my foes, in taking what is mine." Rather out of his element here, the dragon seems even more agitated now. "All virtues of the soft, pulpy human heart. None repeated. What is missing among them? Aspiration, it seems... the will to cling to these sodden mortal qualities. Hope, is it?"

"An admirable attempt," the second head says, "but it was not the pattern that we had in mind."

Monitor blows a draught of chilly air out his long snout, and clicks the claws of his toes on the floor, fidgeting in his irritation. "Bah. Ask a fish about mining... very well then, pressing on." Refreshing his memory, the dragon peers at the third head now. "More word games, is it? But this time, no more runes to be added. Simple enough, this one... the few letters of the last row recombine once more to spell 'apt'."

"Your answer is quite sufficient," the third head says, nodding approvingly.

Monitor sits back on his haunches now, warming up to the fourth head's puzzle. "And this... the game changes again, but finally, it moves into the realm of sensibility. Many have been the nights Monitor has whiled away at his horde, counting coins, stacking them again, scattering them to tally them once more." The very tips of his scythes describe tiny circles on the floor as if to scoot tiny motes of treasure about, oddly delicate motions for such unsubtle weapons. "You describe a pattern of multiplication. The first number multiplied by itself, the result then multiplied by itself again. 81 is the number you ask for."

"That is correct," the fourth head says, nodding approvingly.

Monitor turns on the fifth head, and stares. He stares some more. He continues to stare, then squirm, as if itchy. He begins muttering to himself, and shifting his weight from foot to foot, setting the spines on his back jangling. Twice, he turns around to his tail and savagely chews on itbefore returning to his pondering. On the third time he does this, his eyes widen in mid-chew. His mouth drops open, and his tail falls out. "Wait... A... E... H... L..." he counts four more letters out. "P, the missing letter. T, W, X... and Z, but why are W and X so close?" His face twists into a certain grim resolve. "No, P bridges the broadest gap, it must be P." He makes this his answer, eyeing the fifth head as if daring him to say otherwise.

The fifth head looks puzzled, then slinks back. The heads all cast glances to each other, as if conferring silently among themselves. Finally, the fifth head returns. "If you could explain your reasoning more clearly, we would appreciate it greatly."

Monitor snorts in an aggravated manner, and taps a scythe-tip to the stone floor in time to each letter he gives off. "It begins A, counts b, c, d, then E," Kang! The scythe rings against the stone for emphasis. "E, f, g, H... i, j, k, L. This is the pattern I see, the runes, though scrambled in the box, are more or less evenly spaced from each other except for the last few, but that is explained because the 26 letters divided by the 9 boxes is uneven. The next rune from L in the boxes is T, a gap of seven runes, the widest gap in the group, indicating the missing letter is there. P seems to be at the center of that gap."

Though the dragon speaks confidently, a bit of his face twitches as though, a nagging worry at the back of his mind for whether there was a part of the rationale he missed.

"This is not the pattern we were seeking," the fifth head says, "but it shall be noted as an answer that fits a pattern." He doesn't sound very enthusiastic.

Monitor frowns all over his long snout, clearly annoyed. "What then, cursed puzzle beast? Explain to me how this riddle worked, since it is past us."

"That is not within my ability," the fifth head says, "since it might influence you on the remaining riddles."

The dragon leaps to his feet with a clatter before remembering himself, settling back down to the floor in deep frustration. He swallows his fury and regards the sixth head. "Well... this puzzle makes a bit more sense, at least, though it has a cleverly misleading portion to it. It is the scrambling of runes again, three words each, but scattered over the box. The missing word is from the 'star, rats' cluster of runes. I notice each series has two words with the letters arranged forward and backward to spell different things... anagrams, aren't they? But star and rats already provides the anagram, which leaves a middle word to be made. I will venture... 'arts'?"

"Your answer is sufficient," the sixth head says, looking pleased. "You are observant to notice the pattern despite the scrambling of the columns."

Monitor turns on the seventh head, his spines smoothing out again and his tail curling around one haunch as his anger is cooled somewhat by the praise. "But your columns are not scrambled, are they, number Seven?" he murmurs. "But they read from up to down. Add to an angle and get a triangle. Add another and get a square. Add a person to a loner and get company. Add another, and three's a crowd. Add something to nothing, and you have a single item. Add another, and you have a couple, or a duo, or 'many', if you prefer." Though he tries to hedge his bets a little with the slightly underhanded synonyms, the dragon appears fairly confident in the first of his replies.

"Your answer is sufficient," the seventh head notes, "and you are observant to note that the idea can be communicated with more than one select word."

Monitor sprawls onto his belly with a thunderous whumping, looking weary. "More hell-spawned rune puzzles," he grouses, his long neck falling level to the eighth serpentine's head. "Letters thrown in a treasure chest and shaken about. Oh, for the simplicity of a one good bite, of a broad sweep of mine arm, of a single beat of my wings to carry me from this conun.. dru..." He pauses, and mentally arranges the letters, following them from the center in a spiral out. "Conundrum." His eyes narrow. "I see you enjoy irony, cousin hydra."

The eighth head grins impishly. "Well said, cousin dragon."

The steely wyrm lifts himself back to his feet, shifting his weight again, impatient to be done. "That leaves you and your history lesson," Monitor snarls. "Much of which I have forgotten centuries ago as unimportant. Dead gods, heroes, monsters... all to be scattered to the winds of time, failed in death and obscurity. The first three were gorgons. Steno, Euryale... the only gorgon whose name I actually remember is Medusa. Then the goddesses... Skuld is the third sister. My memory fails me at the last trio, but Monitor's is the only important name, and he grows tired of this contest."

"Two-thirds of the riddle, you have answered correctly then, cousin dragon," the ninth head says. "An admirable showing, indeed."

"Good," replies Monitor, his wings spreading, a few slow beats billowing them like galleon sails to clear the mists away from the cavern's exit. "If this brings the challenge to an end, I take my leave of you. We shall see what the other... champions bring." With that, he stomps stiffly away, rattling loose pebbles with his footsteps and barely noticing several stalactites that break off on his crown of horns as he goes.

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