Dragon Games

by Marisa Claire

  “Is there any way to earn that kind of money here?” I asked.

  Amelie smiled. “You could win the Dragon Games. But they are several months away.”

  Groaning, I folded over, burying my face in the quilt. “Anything else?”

  “Each of the three Trials has a one hundred gemlink prize,” she offered.

  Three hundred gemlinks. That was barely a dent in what I would need to heal her completely, but it would keep buying Cal’s so-called miracle cure from the apothecary. If I could just keep Pali going until the Dragon Games, if I could just win the Dragon Games… then I could fix everything.

  ***

  The Dining Hall was much smaller than expected, but perhaps there was another one hidden within the castle’s many confusing corridors for the celebratory banquets Amelie spoke of. I hoped so because there was not much festive about this one. It had the same marble floor, white stone walls, and arched wooden ceiling as the corridors, only three times as wide. A single wooden table took up most of the room, and the other would-be Legionnaires sat around it ornately carved chairs, their delicate Noble asses resting on thick purple cushions. Cushions!

  Hector sat at the head of the table, dressed in a fine purple tunic that matched the curtains draping the two-story window at the far end of the hall. I counted six students near him wearing stark white tunics, ten students in the middle of the table wearing dark red tunics, and a dozen more closest to the door, all decked out in the same forest green as me. It didn’t take an alchemist to deduce that the tunic colors corresponded to the student’s year at the Academy, or that the fewer number of third years was probably not because of an unusually low turn-out when they started.

  Students died here.

  I was probably going to die here.

  Hector banged his goblet on the table when he saw me. Arlen looked up from his right hand and frowned, like he’d been hoping it had all been a bad dream, this peasant invading his precious Noble haven.

  “Future Legionnaires,” Hector bellowed. “I want you to welcome our newest recruit, freshly arrived last night. This is Dima of the House of Marren!”

  A confused murmur rippled down the table, ending with a dark-haired girl seated at the edge closest to me. She raked her sharp green eyes over my ill-fitting clothes and hopelessly tangled hair. Amelie had done her best with the time we had, but… it had been a rough week. I only hoped no one else would notice the faint reek of dragon slime still clinging to my unwashed skin.

  “There is no House of Marren,” the girl said, not exactly mean, but as a matter of fact. “Hector, who is this girl?”

  The older man took a long swig from his goblet, staining his upper lip as purple as his tunic. Before he could set it down and answer, Arlen jumped in.

  “I believe she’s from one of your territories, Kaelina. Or do you consider yourself from Desaret like your brother, Dima?”

  A girl with brown skin like Raff’s wrinkled her nose. “She’s not from my Territory, that’s for sure.”

  “I think she’s something of a bastard,” Arlen said, swirling his goblet in one hand. “Her father was from your land, Coferi, and her mother was from Outer Lanthe. Do I have that right?” He smirked.

  Grinding my teeth, I gave a curt nod.

  Kaelina Lanthe cocked her head, studying me even closer than before. I took several deep breaths, willing my blood to stop racing, my heart to stop pounding. I was standing three feet away from the daughter of the man who slew my father and cleaned his sword on the hem of my mother’s skirt as she crumpled beside the lifeless body.

  With her foot, she pushed out the chair across from her. “Come then, Dima.” She tapped the cushion with the toe of her boot. “I love to learn more about my subjects.”

  Chapter Ten

  Applause boomed like thunder over our heads as Arlen, who it seemed acted as some sort of prefect for our class, led the first-years two abreast through the castle’s rear doors into the blinding morning sun. Odd girl out, I walked alone at the end of the line, looking conspicuous in my green tunic and tan breeches while everyone else sported shiny bronze battle armor.

  A hush fell as we marched far enough into the courtyard for all of the Nobles crowding the balconies to get a glimpse of me. Craning my neck around, I saw men in elegant, silk tunics and women in colorful day dresses pointing and turning to each other with confused expressions.

  I shouldn’t be here.

  Panic gripped my chest, squeezing tighter than even Thula had when she’d plucked me off the Peak yesterday. Hector had explained the First Trial over breakfast, but I’d barely been listening because all I could think about was how Kaelina Lanthe’s father was still alive and mine was not. I barely even touched the food heaped onto my plate because my stomach was twisting itself into murderous knots that wouldn’t let anything settle.

  That, and I had no idea what the spicy strips of red meat even were, and there was no way I was going to make myself stand out even more by asking.

  Fourteen dragons lined the courtyard, seven on either side, their skull gems sparkling in a brilliant array of colors under the morning sun. Thula’s missing gem had started to concern me, but I was afraid its loss had something to do with whatever happened to whoever rode her last. All the legends I’d heard growing up said there was only one way to break a dragon bond.

  It involved a lot of not breathing anymore.

  As we crossed the courtyard, students slowly broke rank and joined their dragons and the servant handlers who held each beast by its reins. A husky blond boy named Yarben, who’d been the least rude to me at breakfast, went to a green dragon with burgundy wings. White foam bubbled at the edges of its mouth where the metal bit pinched. Yarben frowned at the handler and readjusted the braided leather bridle himself.

  Kaelina Lanthe stepped to the left as we passed a smallish, tannish dragon with pinkish wings—every aspect of the creature seemed non-committal like it wasn’t even sure it was a dragon at all. The gem crammed into the space between its oddly close-set eyes was a plain clear crystal. It looked even more inbred than some of the Nobles. I bit my cheeks so as not to laugh—not at the wretched dragon, but at the look that must have been on Kaelina’s face when she reached Drakken Peak.

  Kaelina said something to the red-headed girl holding the reins, and the girl responded with a slow, meaningful nod. The dragon reached out its thin nose to greet Kaelina, but she slapped it away. The dejected look in the dragon’s cloudy yellow eyes made me want to steal it and take it home to Pali for a pet. She would appreciate it.

  Eventually, everyone in between us had arrived at their dragon, and it was just Arlen and me marching the last few steps toward our dragons, who stood across from each other on either side of the gates. The obnoxious Noble would be escorting the first years into the Drakken Range where the Trial would take place. From what I gathered at breakfast, this one focused on speed and agility—two things I knew Thula could handle.

  “You’ll want to try to live, obviously,” Arlen said in a very bored tone. “But I wouldn’t try to win if I were you.”

  My head snapped toward him. “Oh, you wouldn’t?”

  He flicked his eyes to indicate the spectators in the balconies behind us. “Lord Lanthe is here today, and he expects his daughter to win. He won’t like it if she doesn’t.”

  “Is that some kind of threat?” I hissed, my fists balling up.

  He looked at me with unreadable eyes. “Not from me.”

  “Dima!” Raff’s voice interrupted the weird moment, and I looked up to see him standing under Thula’s proud neck, grasping her reins. He was dressed in servant grays—the nicest things I’d ever seen him in. Unlike me, he seemed to have had a bath of some sort. There was no more blood on his forehead or dragon slime matting his hair.

  “Ra—” I started, but Arlen’s fingers gripped my wrist.

  “Do not use a servant’s name in public.”

  I rounded on him, glaring. “He’s my brother.”

&n
bsp; Arlen’s fingers tightened, his eyes fierce. “Not anymore.” He lowered his voice and said quickly, “There are no families here. No friendships. No feelings that can ever be used against you. Do you understand?”

  There was something in his fierce blue eyes that made it seem like he wasn’t talking to me at all but reminding himself. And I wondered if maybe there was an actual person somewhere under all that armor, after all, someone who had been hurt.

  He tossed my arm out of his grip and spun toward his giant white dragon, Elanich, who lowered his head and flicked his tongue against his rider’s face. A small, unwilling smile twitched Arlen’s hard mouth, and he briefly scratched the dragon’s chin whiskers.

  I turned toward Raff, who had watched the exchange with wide, frightened eyes.

  “Are you okay?” I whispered, careful to keep my back to anyone who could see. “How are they treating you?”

  He shrugged. “Not bad. Might be different without Thula though.”

  Thula bent her neck and nibbled at the top of Raff’s hair. A weird feeling twisted inside me, kind of like the day I’d seen him holding hands with my sister. Did he have to steal everyone’s affection?

  I took the reins from him, examining the substantial bit clamped between Thula’s jaws. “Is this really necessary?”

  “No.” She answered at the same time Raff said, “Yes.”

  Running my hand down Thula’s neck, I paused at the shiny new skin filling the hole Huskell had left in her flesh. “Are you up to this, Thula?”

  She peered back at me with bright, clear eyes and bobbed her head. A tingle of excitement fought against the feeling of impending doom that had gripped me earlier. If a healing drought could fix her up this much in less than twelve hours…

  “I intend to win,” I said quietly. “Can we do that?”

  “Where is your armor?”

  “Excellent question,” I huffed, stroking the soft leather saddle that rested perfectly on the bare skin of her back. With a start, I realized they must remove their scales for that very reason. Thinking of someone shaving Thula’s scales off made my heart and stomach turn.

  “Why don’t you have armor?” Raff asked, unaware I’d just responded to the same question. “They can’t be sending you out there without armor.”

  I grimaced. “I think they can do whatever they want.”

  “But that’s like… sabotage,” Raff sputtered.

  It was definitely meant to be sabotage. I wasn’t stupid. Amelie could have figured out my rough measurements and found something that would work for today. She’d just been told not to. Just like she’d been told not to let me send any letters home.

  “Riders up!” Hector bellowed, appearing in front of the iron gates with a bullhorn to his mouth.

  The spectators fell silent. A dozen sets of armor squealed as bodies landed heavily in their fine saddles. The dragon handlers moved back to stand alongside the walls. Raff and I shared a tight look instead of the frantic hug we both wanted to, and then he slunk away, stepping over Thula’s curled tail. Her thorny spikes came all the way up to his knees.

  Taking a deep breath, I turned toward my saddle. The dark leather was soft and shiny, not like the dried-up, dusty things worn by hogsteeds in Pithe. Two thick leather straps held the saddle in place, one in front of and one behind her wings. Three stirrups hung at staggered length to assist with mounting. Tossing the reins over the saddle horn, I climbed up and settled onto the seat with a rush of vertigo. No longer was I crouched safely behind Thula’s shoulders—a thick cushion rested between her skin and the saddle, lifting it in the center to create a perch with a more natural width for human riders.

  I wiggled my butt from side to side, trying to get comfortable.

  Thula grunted and snapped her head around, narrowing her eyes.

  “What?” I asked.

  But before she could answer, Arlen’s dragon strutted forward, trotting between the two rows of dragons with a show, high-stepping gait that didn’t seem natural to the beast.

  “First years!” Arlen shouted. “As you know, the First Trial is a test of speed and agility. We will travel to the canyon in a standard V squadron. Once there, you will form a straight line in the air. I will wave this flag—” He lifted a purple flag emblazoned with a golden dragon head. “—and the race will begin. The canyon will be decorated with medallions like this.” He held up a bronze circle dangling from a chain. “You goal is to collect as many of these medallions as you can as quickly as you can without turning back or landing. Anyone who turns back or lands will be disqualified. When you reach the end of the canyon, you will then—and only then—turn around and fly back to the castle as fast as you can. If the person who returns first and the person who collects the most medallions are not the same person, then a run-off joust will be held to determine the winner.

  Thula shifted from side to site and looked back at the saddle, clacking her teeth. “Something’s wrong.”

  But I was too busy watching Arlen as he swung Elanich toward the castle gate. I gripped my reins and made a note of how he pulled his across the dragon’s neck to steer.

  “I, and the other third-years, will be watching from above to make sure no one lands or turns back to collect a medallion.” His head whipped toward me with a twisted grin. “And don’t forget, the second-years will be hiding in the canyon walls with a crossbow.”

  He cracked his reins, and Elanich shot into the air with a mighty push of his wings, hovering just above the castle gate.

  “Riders, fly!” Arlen shouted, cupping a hand over his mouth.

  “Something’s wrong,” Thula repeated as all the other dragons launched off the ground.

  “Too late now,” I grunted and shook the reins. “Go! Fly!”

  Thula hissed sparks at me, but obeyed, unfurling her mighty wings and lifting us straight off the ground in a single powerful flap.

  I awkwardly tugged on the reins and Thula fell into position just behind and to the right of Arlen and Elanich. I was pretty sure she made that decision on her own though because now that I was up here with the long straps of leather in my hands, I had zero idea how to use them. It was a lot harder than Arlen made it look.

  The wind from Elanich’s wings stung my face as we soared over the walls and across the field surrounding the castle. Casting a glance to my left, I saw that Kaelina and her tan dragon had taken the other position behind Arlen. The smaller creature seemed to struggle with Elanich’s wind stream, but something flashed in the air, and it lurched suddenly ahead, screeching. Kaelina carried a whip.

  My mouth dropped indignantly. Not only was that cruel, but it seemed a lot like cheating. Kaelina must have felt my judgment because she turned her helmeted head toward me and either smiled sweetly or viciously bared her teeth.

  After a few minutes, Arlen waved his hand forward over his head, and Thula must have known what it meant even if I didn’t because she surged even with Arlen and Elanich as Kaelina and her dragon did the same.

  Blue eyes peered from under Arlen’s helmet. He pointed at my foot. “Heels up, toes down, rider!”

  “What?” I shouted across our dragons’ considerable wingspans.

  “Heels up, toes down!” He pointed down at his boot, lodged at that angle in his top stirrup.

  I mimicked his position, and my calves screamed in protest. There was no way that could be right. My legs would be herbaline jelly by the time the race was over. So the second Arlen fell behind to critique the next pair of riders, I dropped my toes back down in the stirrups, releasing all that painful tension. He wasn’t going to trick me that easily.

  Five wing strokes later, the saddle shifted to the left.

  Thula’s smooth motions faltered.

  Just like my heartbeat.

  “Lean right.”

  I obeyed, trying to counterbalance the weight of the saddle, but I was just a starving girl from Pithe with no armor. My weight meant nothing to the hefty hunk of leather as it slipped further and further tow
ard Thula’s left wing.

  Thula dipped out of the dragon formation, and those behind us went whooshing over our heads. I didn’t bother crying out for help because I had heard enough callous chest-puffing at breakfast to know that no one would come back, even if it weren’t against the rules of this Trial. I watched, leaning as far to the right as I could manage, while the rest of my class disappeared into a fluffy white cloud.

  “I must land.”

  “No!” I shouted, gripping the reins as though I could really stop her. “I’ll be disqualified!”

  “There’s always the next Trial.” Thula’s massive body titled to the right, preparing to circle down from the sky

  “No!” I repeated louder, jerking back on the reins. “I said no!”

  Thula shook her head at the bit and snorted embers. “I said yes.”

  “I need that money,” I cried, as the saddle lurched to the right with Thula’s sweeping turn. “My sister is dying!”

  “So you wish to meet her there?” Thula continued circling, and the saddle continued slipping. “Lean left.”

  I threw my weight in that direction as hard as I could and felt my foot slip down too far, yanking the saddle back this way. Grasping the saddle horn, I leaned back to the right, but…

  My foot stayed on the left, stretching me painfully over the saddle. Grimacing, I craned my neck, trying to shift as little weight as possible in any direction until I knew what was happening.

  The feeling of doom returned.

  My boot had slipped right through the stirrup so that the hard leather loop encircled my ankle. I lifted my foot, and the whole stirrup came with it, stuck fast on the wrong side of my thick boot heel.

  I cursed. Heels down, toes up.

  Thula soared low over a thick forest of pine trees. Branches snapped as her claws drug across them. Her head swung from side to side, nostrils flaring, and I knew she was looking for a clearing.