Dragon Games

by Marisa Claire

I wrenched out of his grasp. “Get off me! Who are you?”

  The group around the fire laughed, and the old man leered. “Here to climb the peak for what you seek, aren’t you, girl?” He grinned at his friends. “Aren’t they all?”

  One of the rough-looking women snorted. “Don’t be jumping to collusions, Belth. She might have just dropped in for a spot of tea.”

  “Conclusions,” I muttered under her ear-splitting cackle.

  “What’s that, what’s that?” Belth jutted his crusty ear toward my face. “Got something to say?” He slapped his knee, wheezing. “Famous last words, perhaps, perhaps?”

  Stepping back, I drew myself up to full height, broadening my shoulders by planting my fists on my hips. “Tell me—”

  “First boy’s were, ‘Tell Mama I love her.’ Haven’t heard from the second boy yet, but boys are all the same. Mama this, mama that.” Belth laughed until he coughed and had to spit on the ground. “Mama’s boys never come back, come back. Hardly worth betting on really.”

  “You bet on our lives?” My voice came out low and threatening.

  Belth’s eyes grew wide. He touched a hand to his heart. “You insult, you insult! We’d never wager on whether a child will live or die.”

  My shoulders sagged with relief. “Then why are you here?”

  Belth beckoned me closer. I held my breath and leaned in as he moved his cracked lips close to my ear. “To bet on whether you’ll get eaten or jump.”

  I leaped backwards, away from his rancid breath, as his friends enjoyed another round of raucous laughs.

  “You’re disgusting. All of you!”

  One of the men at the table shrugged his one good shoulder—the second appeared to have been carved off in a back alley amputation. “Medicine ain’t cheap.”

  His mangled body reminded me why I came. To get eaten. At this point, I really just wanted to get it over with.

  “Bet what you want on me. Just point me in the right direction.”

  “Last I checked it was up,” the first woman said.

  “And then very shortly back down!” the second woman howled.

  The man with two good arms slapped them together to mimic a dragon’s chomping jaws. “One way or another!”

  Belth clutched at my shoulder again. “Come now, come now. You must peruse the shop.”

  I tightened my grip on my satchel. “I have everything I need, thank you.”

  The old man waggled his eyebrows. “Don’t have a sword, do you?”

  “I’m not here to kill a dragon,” I said. “I’m here to find mine.”

  Belth chuckled, pulling on my arm. “What they all say, all say! Come on then, let’s find something that’ll fit that pretty little hand of yours.”

  I wrenched away from for the second time since we met. “No. Thank. You.”

  He squinted at me for a long moment, and then stepped back. “Mark it, ladies and gents, ladies and gents. No weapon for the pretty girl.” His creepy eyes raked up my body. “Probably couldn’t have afforded one anyway.”

  “It’s not enough to bet on us?” I scoffed. “You have to take our last gemlinks to?”

  “Either you’ll get into the Academy, or you’ll die,” the man with both arms said. “Either way, you won’t be needing them anymore.” He held out an empty bowl, still smeared with some sort of residue. “Care to make a donation if you won’t make a purchase?”

  I pushed the bowl away. “I don’t think I do.”

  One-Shoulder eyed my satchel. “Everyone’s got to leave something if they want to reach the Peak, girl.”

  A hot wave of anger rolled over me, turning my hands into fists. “So that’s the game, is it? Extort peasants out of their sole possessions and then sell them to the next kid?”

  “It’s called a trade, child,” the first woman said. “Give us your bag and we’ll tell you where the best path is.”

  “We’re going to wind up with it one way or another,” the second woman chimed in, glancing upward.

  My lip curled, baring my teeth. “How do you people live with yourselves?”

  “Very uncomfortably, to be honest,” One-Shoulder said, and then burst into another fit of laughter that the others quickly joined in.

  Furious, I whirled away from the scene before I did something stupid like swept all the pieces off their gambling table. There was no way I was giving up my father’s satchel for directions. Unlike most of the people these human monsters preyed on, I had actually gotten the Call. I would just ask the voice in my head where she needed me to go from here. Surely she could do me that small favor.

  But peering into the fog, I realized I could no longer tell which direction I’d come from. Reluctantly, I turned back toward Belth and his friends, just to get my bearings. Yes, there was the table, and the fire to the left, which meant Raff was somewhere behind me again. The Peak had to be on the other side of the camp.

  I took a few hesitant steps toward the fire, wondering if I needed to make a run for it. Would any of these goons try to stop me?

  Something thumped wetly in the space between the fire and the table, stopping me in my tracks. A cheer rose up from the gamblers, and Belth hobbled toward the reddish-brown source of the sound. He kicked at it, and the thing rolled in my direction. A scream exploded inside my, but I clamped down on my jaw, refusing to let it out.

  It was the lower half of a human leg, still wearing its worn and dusty boot.

  Chapter Five

  Belth bent and pinched the strings of the boot between two fingers, lifting it off the ground. The disgusting leg wobbled in the air, blood dribbling from the ragged flesh, before the weight of the foot tilted downward, pointing that white shard of bone toward the sky.

  I pulled my lips into my mouth, gripping them between my teeth because I knew if even the slightest sound escaped me, the sparse contents of my stomach would follow.

  Belth jiggled the strings, making the boot dance like some gruesome marionette. “What do we think, what do we think? Keep the boot or give it… the boot?” He cackled.

  The first woman grimaced. “Not worth it. Toss it on the fire.”

  Belth shrugged and made like he was going to pitch the leg onto their campfire.

  “Not that fire, you dolt!” The second woman bellowed.

  Bile bubbled up into my throat. The bonfire out back wasn’t for cooking, after all. Or maybe it was. Who knew how low these people would really stoop? I lifted my chin, hoping the bile would slide back down, but it stayed right it where it was, like it didn’t want to bother making the climb all over again the next time something horrible happened.

  “Now wait a minute,” One-Shoulder called as Belth started to walk away. “Seems a waste to lose the boot.”

  “Nobody needs one boot,” the other man scoffed.

  One-Shoulder tilted the lumpy flesh where his other shoulder ought to be toward the man. “Not everyone has all four limbs, Frek. Have a heart, will you?”

  Frek laughed and pushed One-Shoulder away. “Well, if this girl’s arm comes down without her, you can have it.” He grinned over at me. “Fine by you, sweetheart?”

  Unable to speak, I marched back over to their stone table, planted my hands on my knees, and finally opened my mouth. The gamblers screamed and reeled backward as my stomach let them know exactly what I thought of their dirty business. One-Shoulder lost his balance and slid right off the log he sat on, slamming into one of the thin branch poles holding the tent up. With a harsh snap, that rear corner collapse, and the weight yanked the other three poles with it.

  I leaped backward just in time as the heavy hide came down on top of the gamblers and their game, muffling their angry cries. I spit on the tent for good measure.

  Belth stood by the fire, blinking, his mouth a small, dark ‘O’ amid his matted beard. Fury pumped through my veins, and I charged him, wrapping my strong young fingers around his frail neck.

  “Where is the path?” I growled, bending his body backward toward the campfire.
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  He flung his arm back like he meant to wallop me with the poor boy’s leg, but I caught his wrist and dug my ragged fingernails in until he dropped the boot.

  “Where. Is. The. Path.”

  Belth wheezed in response, but his free hand lifted and pointed to a dark boulder where shadows seemed to dance in the flicker of the bonfire. I spun him away from the smaller flames and dropped in the dirt still wet with the boy’s blood.

  Shapes rose and fell under the collapsed tent as the rest of the gamblers struggled to get out. I probably shouldn’t stick around to see that happen. Quickly, I picked up the boot, jumped over the old man struggling to get his creaky knees back underneath him, and raced across the camp toward the bonfire.

  Skidding to a stop in front of the towering flames, I could just make out the shape of another body—this one whole—slumped over the branches feeding the fire.

  He must have jumped, I thought as I tugged my tunic over my nose to block out some of the heart-breaking stench. Climbing Drakken Peak was suicide. I had always known that. But if only Nobles were chosen, and everyone knew that, then why wasn’t anyone keeping desperate or deluded peasants off the Peak?

  I realized then that I hadn’t been afraid the camp contained soldiers—that was what I had wished. That someone would be waiting to turn me away.

  But instead…

  Glancing back, I saw Frek’s furious face emerge from under the tent. I looked down at the boot in my hand, trying not to think about the warmth still emanating from what was inside it, and pitched it into the flames where it landed with a disgusting sizzle and pop. My stomach twisted, but there was nothing left to throw up.

  “Dima.”

  “I’m coming,” I snarled, turning toward the boulder where the shadows moved like ghosts.

  “Stop her!” Belth croaked from back in the camp.

  Whirling, I saw the last of the gamblers crawl out from under the tent. Frek and the first woman were already halfway caught up with me. My heart slammed against my ribs. Running would only get me hopelessly lost in the fog that swirled around the base of Drakken Peak. Standing still would only get me… dead.

  “Burn it.”

  There was no time for second-guessing. The dragon had brought me here, and even though I had some seriously mixed feelings about her species after holding a human leg in my hands, I had to believe she wanted me to reach the Peak. And not just to eat me. I mean, Nobles have so much more meat on their bones than a malnourished peasant.

  I snatched a burning branch from the base of the bonfire and swung it in a glowing arc before me, pushing the gamblers back just as they arrived.

  Frek laughed, a cruel sneer on his face. “Four against one, you little wench.”

  My mind flashed to Nav’s nose spewing blood all over his apron. I reared back the arm holding the branch and flung it with the same precision.

  The branched sailed over the gamblers' heads and landed on something with a heavy thump. Almost instantly, fresh flames leaped into the sky, forcing back the fog. Belth let out a blood-curling scream.

  “My tent!” shrieked one of the women and ran.

  The other three followed, but Frek took the time to shout over his shoulder, “I hope they take their time with you!” Then he disappeared into the black smoke billowing from their camp.

  “Well done.”

  Pride swelled inside my chest… and then burst, soaking me with remorse. Of course, a man-eating dragon would praise me for setting homes on fire. That was exactly what had happened in Pithe. If I was already capable of this kind of violence and destruction, who would I become when I reached the Peak?

  My father’s last words rang in my ears, louder than any dragon’s Call: “I will not take up a sword against my fellow man.”

  Yes, I had always dreamed of riding a dragon, competing in their games, but until very recently, I had always been a child. Unable to fully reconcile the horror of the Burn with the allure of all the honor and wealth the Legion Academy promised.

  “Dima, come,” the voice rasped.

  “No,” I said out loud, barely audible over the roar of the fires and the gamblers’ frantic screams as everything they owned went up in flames. Because of me.

  “Now, Dima.”

  “Leave me alone,” I said, readjusting the strap of my father’s satchel. I would not become someone he would hate.

  “Dima, you must.”

  “I will not!” I screamed, my ragged voice bouncing off the side of the mountain somewhere just behind me.

  It was time to find Raff and go home.

  A dark shadow passed over the camp, and a blast of wind hit me from above, just as it had when I floated in the ether of my vision.

  “You will.”

  A high-pitched scream shattered the morning. Not from the gamblers in the camp, but beyond it. No, no, no, no!

  I started to run, but the shadow soared over once again, low enough to smell the sulfur on her breath. Low enough to see Raff enclosed in one of her massive sets of claws. His legs kicked at the air and he reached one hand down toward me.

  “Dima!” his voice broke with terror.

  “Put him down!” I shrieked, running after them. “You monster!”

  Another whoosh of wind and Raff disappeared into the fog over my head, still screaming my name. A furious roar broke loose from my chest.

  “Quickly now.”

  I raced past the burning bodies in the bonfire and swung around the boulder where the shadows dance. Massive flat stones formed the shape of steps, cutting through a dark jumble of jagged rocks formed the foot of Drakken Peak.

  Something glimmered in my memory, something I had noticed so quickly I hadn’t realized I’d seen it. Running back to the bonfire, I saw it on the other side of the flames. Shiny metal. A great pile of shiny metal. Plunging through the smoke at the bonfire’s edge, I emerged, coughing, in front of a trove of homemade shields, swords, and pieces of armor.

  I grabbed the hilt of the closest sword, cringing at the metallic swish it made as it left the pile. The heft of it felt strange in my hand, but also… good. Strong. Dangerous.

  “I’m sorry, Father,” I whispered into the smoke and fog. “But you said nothing about dragons.”

  ***

  The point of the sword screeched as it scraped along the icy steps behind me. My arms no longer had the strength to lift themselves, much less a four-foot long piece of rusty metal. I didn’t know why I’d even brought—there was no way I’d be able to swing it with enough force to nick a dragon’s foot, much less drive it through its heart.

  My foot caught on the uneven edge of the next step. Or at least, I assumed that’s how I ended up on my hands and knees in the snow because I hadn’t been able to feel my feet in quite some time. These boots were made for the warm, arid climate of Outer Lanthe, not for climbing Drakken Peak.

  Groaning, I twisted my body to sit on the step, not caring that the cold moisture was soaking through the seat of my trousers. Below me, a blanket of fog stretched to the three visible horizons, but clear blue sky surrounded this upper third of the Peak, just as it had in my visions. The blazing sun floated an hour or so above the western side of the Drakken Range, but even though I was closer to it than I had ever been, none of its heat reached me.

  Wrapping my arms around myself, I hunkered into a ball, burying my frost-tinged face between my knees. Shivers rolled through my body, clacking my teeth together. I didn’t belong up here. Drakken Peak was for Nobles with gemlinks to burn on fur coats and matching hat. Belth said the gamblers bet on whether we would get eaten or jump, but they had obviously never ventured high enough themselves to realize how many of us must freeze before ever laying eyes on a dragon. Who knew what lay buried under the mounds of snow that bordered the wide, flat steps?

  “Dima!”

  My stiff fingers tightened around the hilt of the sword. This was the first time she’d spoken since ordering me to come quickly—hours and hours and hours ago. Dragons apparently d
idn’t have much sense of scale. It had probably taken her ten seconds to fly up here and deliver Raff to the dragon dinner table.

  “Dima!” the voice cried out again, hoarse and urgent.

  I jumped up, using the sword like a cane to keep my feet underneath me on the slippery ground. That was no dragon inside my head. That was Raff. He was still alive!

  Fresh energy poured into in my burning thighs and calves. It pushed them up one step and then another, over and over, around and around the narrowing mountain until the next step was no step at all, but a flat, snowy landing, carved with deep furrows where the dragons had skidded into the enormous, dark mouth of the cave I had seen from Nav’s soup stall back in Pithe.

  Drakken Peak.

  I leaned on my sword, gasping with the effort of filling my lungs with enough of this parchment-thin air to shout, “Raff!”

  Silence.

  And then a choked sob echoing off the walls of the dragons’ massive lair. “You came!”

  Squaring my shoulders, I lifted the sword, wiping the ice off the blade with the hem of my tunic. “Of course I came!”

  “Dima, your dragon—” he started, but the rest of his words disappeared under an ear-splitting hiss, twenty times louder than any sound a cindragon could hope to emit.

  Pebbles of loose ice bounced around the landing like fleas as something took several earth-shaking steps within the cavern. It occurred to me—much too late—that perhaps peasant likes me did receive a call, just not the same call as Nobles. Why spend your nights scouring the countryside for meals when you could have one delivered?

  I lifted my sword with two hands, holding it straight out in front of me. When the dragon charged, my only hope was to slide between its front legs and wedge my weapon into its massive heart. There was an excellent chance that I would be crushed if I managed to do this, but at least Raff would have a chance to flee, to return to Mother and Pali.

  But no dragon emerged from the cavern’s gloom

  “I’m here!” I shouted, taking a few careful steps forward. A strong wind blasted across the landing, and the last thing I needed was to fall on the ice now. “Come and get me!”