by Lily Velez
44
Scarlet
As I watched in horror, a glint of light stole my attention.
My shield was reflecting one of the sun beams that poured into the canyon. I winced at the brightness, angling the shield away. In the next instant, I straightened.
Of course!
I caught the sunlight again and twisted the shield just so, redirecting the ray so that it shot at the dragon’s eyes right as the creature was about to strike Jack. The dragon instantly recoiled, rearing its head back. It bought enough time for Jack to escape.
My adrenaline spiked. Once again, I studied the stretch of cavern between me and the Sword of Light, my eyes zigzagging as I honed in only on those routes where I’d have a pillar of sunlight at my disposal. With the best path charted, I made a run for it.
The dragon had just finished recovering from its momentary blindness. My movement caught its gaze, and it charged in my direction. That is, until a golden coffer struck the side of its face, guided by Jack’s outstretched hand. Snarling, the dragon spun toward him, but Kai, taking a page from my strategy book, positioned a broadsword over his head and caught a sunray at the perfect angle, the light bouncing off the blade and straight into the dragon’s eyes.
The beast snarled. It blindly swiped at Kai with its tail, pounding the club into the ground hard enough to leave behind a crater, but the demon had already abandoned his spot, assuming a new one several strides away. There, he angled the sword for another attack, reflecting a new beam of light, which struck the dragon’s gaze head-on.
The dragon snapped its jaws at the air, swiping at opponents it couldn’t see. All the while, Jack continued hurling items at the beast with magic: scepters, statues, bricks of gold. Weapons too, which flew at the dragon with the speed of a fired bullet. Some points bounced off the thick hide of the dragon’s scales and clattered to the ground harmlessly. Others caught the soft flesh under the dragon’s arms or at its belly, or pierced the webbing of its wings.
The dragon raged, discharging bursts of fire in multiple directions as it beat those wings powerfully, the canyon spasming with its movements. Jack and Kai narrowly escaped each flaming current, but the canyon walls started to crack, and boulders plummeted into the space we occupied by the dozens. In all its fury, the dragon would bring the walls down right on top of us all.
I rushed down the lanes formed by the many hills of gold, though now the space looked more like a warzone, weapons and plunder scattered everywhere. I leapt over a puddle of melted gold and cleared a flaming cluster of items that twisted and dripped in the fire, the heat making my face flush and sweat. At times, I used my shield to protect myself from the heavy downpour of debris. Other times, I paused to catch sunlight, throwing it toward the dragon whenever it got too close to Jack or Kai.
After what seemed like an eternity, I finally reached the other end of the canyon. Wasting not a second, I began to climb the tree that guarded the sword, my heart beating a crazed riot within me. When I reached that would-be ribcage, I paused on the bough supporting me, taking in the legendary weapon.
I’d been awestruck by the decoy at Morrígan’s fête. Knowing this was the one true sword left me momentarily stunned. I could scarcely believe it was before me, this holy treasure we had endured so much to retrieve.
I inched closer across the bough, wondering if my status as one of the god-touched would protect me yet. Did Brigid secretly know my innermost thoughts? Did she know I meant to defy her if she intended on forcing my hand? And did that automatically mean I was no longer able to claim the Sword of Light?
There was only one way to find out.
I lunged forward, reached into the ribcage, and grabbed the hilt.
The sword didn’t budge.
Instead, the moment my hand touched the weapon, a surge of magic shot through me with such force I had to grab onto a branch above me lest I fall over. A strange sensation coiled around my hand like a vine. It wrapped around my wrist and forearm up to my elbow. The runes on the inside of my right arm glowed.
The sword was testing me. It sought to confirm that I was worthy of wielding it. I closed my eyes as the magic raced through the rest of me, its threads finally reaching my heart, where I supposed the truth of my intentions resided.
I dared not breathe as I waited, as the fibers of magic circled around in my chest like prowling sharks containing their prey. I swallowed thickly in anticipation of the verdict.
One second, two, three…
Then, in a rush, the magic left me like an exhaled breath, and the moment it did, it released its hold on the sword. I staggered back, the blade hitting the bough with a resounding clang. I nearly fell out of the tree, but righted my balance at the very last moment. My heart racing, I sank to my knees to catch my breath.
Unlike the decoy, the true Sword of Light was heavy. A lot heavier than I would’ve ever imagined a sword could be. And it was absolutely stunning, a masterfully crafted thing of beauty worthy of ballads and acclamation. Holding it, I couldn’t help but feel like one of the heroes in Jack’s legends. There was a power that radiated from the sword that was invigorating, rousing one’s spirit until you felt like you could conquer an entire city.
The Eternal Flame.
The name was fitting.
Something about my touch activated the sword, and it emitted a dazzling, golden aura, its entire blade glowing as if it were being newly forged, filigrees of fire dancing along the steel.
I thought about the centuries the sword had seen, the wars it had been a part of.
And now it would need to go to war one more time.
By the time I reached the canyon floor, the dragon’s movements had slowed, its breath coming in pants. There were rips in the webbing of its wings, and numerous swords and lances protruded from the dragon’s body like needles in a pincushion.
At one point, the dragon slipped across its own spilled blood, crashing to the ground hard enough to make the canyon shudder. Jack and Kai moved quickly, sending spears soaring to the dragon’s wings to pin them to the earth. It made me think of an insect in a display case.
The beast shrieked, flailing about, its club tail pummeling neighboring hills of gold, which exploded in a shower of jangling coins and jewels. At one point, I thought it would succeed in extricating itself, but the spears kept coming, stabbing ruthlessly into those enormous wings, until there was no way even a creature of the dragon’s might could save itself.
Still, it tried. It squirmed in place, trying to get its feet under itself to stand. But with every attempt, it only kept slipping in that growing pool of blood. And I saw the moment acceptance filled its eyes. I saw the defeat, the resignation. Its breathing now labored and thin, I saw the moment the dragon stopped fighting back, knowing its end was inevitable.
Smoke curled out of its nostrils and through the spaces between its teeth, but it was too exhausted, too weak to summon fire. It just laid there, waiting, its head at rest on one side and a single golden eye trained on me so that it could see the moment I delivered the killing blow.
With the Sword of Light in hand, I approached.
And strange as it was, in those heart-stopping seconds when I was close enough to the dragon to feel its hot breath puff out against my legs, it wasn’t so fearsome looking a thing anymore.
What had made it fearsome in the first place?
Stories traded around a bonfire ages ago? Legends that had calcified over time into gospel truths that told with absolute ‘certainty’ of the creature’s cruelty and fury and wrath? And though they might’ve never seen a dragon before, though they might’ve never interacted with one, people went on to believe those legends, fear gripping hearts and chilling blood.
Not all that different from the stories people told about the Connellys back in Rosalyn Bay, stories that had been passed down for generations. What exactly had the townspeople said about Elizabeth Connelly centuries ago to make her such an outcast? Why had others decided to believe those tales? Was it bec
ause it was human nature to come together against a common enemy, to rail against a chosen villain?
But what if that chosen villain wasn’t villainous at all?
According to Alistair, Jack was to help unleash hell on earth. But Jack wasn’t evil. Why should he have to play a role he had no interest in playing? And how was it fair for others to fear him for it, for something that was out of his control?
“Scarlet,” Jack prompted. “You’re the only one who can wield the sword. Now’s the moment.”
I heard him, but I was immobilized. I could only stare into that single golden eye. Golden eye, meaning the creature wasn’t demonic. Kai had said no one truly knew where dragons had hailed from, but I imagined they’d once had a land of their own, where they’d lived freely as opposed to simply feared.
I tried to draw up the sword, the muscles in my arm straining with its weight, but my limbs were leaden, uncooperative. I couldn’t shake the unnerving feeling that the dragon saw right through me, into the very core of my being. Rory had once spoken of sacred connections with living things. He’d told me that humans weren’t the only ones with a soul.
As I stared back into the dragon’s eye, a black slit in the center of a burning core, I thought I finally understood.
And so I hesitated.
Because I no longer saw a monster. I no longer saw an enemy. Suddenly, right and wrong were a blur. The dragon was a monstrous beast, no doubt. But it was a living, breathing thing the same as I was. It bled as I did. Its heart beat like my own. And returning its gaze, a gaze that was suddenly so wise and aware, I thought I felt something more too.
A soul.
Things aren’t always as they seem.
My heart raced. Jack and I had made the decision to take charge of our destinies and write our own stories, but maybe defying the gods meant defying all the legends too. In the fairytales, the dragon was always slain. Why should it be so this time? Simply because Morrígan had ordained it? By Jack’s account, the goddess had hunted an entire species, the beautiful phoenix, into extinction. This dragon was most likely no more than a prop to Morrígan in her endless quests, and I was done being a soldier in a war I hadn’t signed up for.
At the thought of the goddess, my eyes fell to the red jewel embedded into the dragon’s chest like a second heart. The creature was slightly turned to its side, offering me an unobstructed view of the jewel. Normally, a storm raged within the ruby’s facets. The pulsing lights were dimming, however, their rhythm seeming to match the dragon’s slowing breath.
How long had this creature been the goddess’s slave? My eyes combed over the scales on its diseased foreleg, which had at some point in its life taken on the color of ash. Was this existence it lived, serving Morrígan without end, one full of misery? Perhaps it even longed for the release that only death could bring.
“Scarlet.”
My eyes were stuck on that jewel, my heart hammering. I knew what I had to do. I’d delayed for far too long already. The time had come to finish this.
I hoisted the heavy sword as high as I could manage and brought the point of the glowing blade down toward the dragon.
45
Scarlet
You could say I missed…
…if my intention had been to kill the dragon.
That wasn’t my intention.
The Sword of Light’s point bit into the face of the ruby, cracks spider-webbing across the jewel as a frenetic whirlwind of colors spun inside. Then, in one devastating explosion, the ruby burst into a hundred shards. They fell to the ground, shiny, apple-red chunks that looked like hard candy.
An angry current of crimson wind flew out of those broken pieces and right past us, shrieking. As it sped out of the canyon, I could still hear its tortured, wrathful screams. Morrígan’s magic released.
Much like the ruby had, the dragon, eyes now shut, began to glow. The canyon floor trembled under its gargantuan body, and at first, I thought the neighboring walls meant to finally crash in on us. I made to grab for my shield, only to realize I’d left it atop the pyramid. Rocks and dust rained down on us, and as it happened, the light surrounding the dragon grew brighter and brighter, as if a sun were rising from the horizon of its body.
I had to shield my eyes with my forearm.
When the blinding radiance at last abated, I dropped my arm.
Then I gasped.
The dragon had disappeared!
And in its place knelt a man clad in chainmail.
My mind reeled. I blinked, trying to make sense of what had just happened. It was only when my eyes fell to his left arm—the hand of which was entirely fashioned from metal, eerily matching those silver scales on the dragon’s foreleg—that the pieces at last came together.
This man hadn’t mysteriously replaced the dragon.
He was the dragon.
Or at least, he had been.
“Nuada,” I whispered, recalling the god from Jack’s stories, the one who presided over divine justice and truth, the god to whom the Sword of Light belonged, the warrior who’d fought with a silver hand and was defeated long ago by Morrígan.
The man rose, the chainmail clinking with his movements. His eyes were the same gold they’d been while in his draconian form. They were presently trained on me. He was obscenely handsome in the way all his kind were. He towered over us, his body lean and muscled, dark, wavy hair falling to his shoulders.
“Daughter of Brigid,” he acknowledged. “You have broken the curse.”
Realization dawned on me. Kai had said the race of dragons had arrived in the Otherworld the day Morrígan had defeated Nuada. They hadn’t arrived, though. They’d been created through a curse. Morrígan had transformed her enemies into beasts and had enslaved them to her indefinitely.
Nuada had never retreated into the wildlands as so many had believed, nor had he evanesced. Though the denizens of the Otherworld had reported never again seeing the god, the truth was they had seen him. Just not in a form they’d recognize.
“The others,” I said. We’d seen a vast assortment of dragons during our time in the Otherworld. Did each one need to be freed from Morrígan’s magic individually?
“The curse affects my men through me,” Nuada said. Meaning now that he had changed back into his true form, so too had they.
Jack turned to me, his face a portrait of awe. I was sure I wore a matching expression. Neither of us could’ve ever guessed this final trial would take such a turn.
“How did you know?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I didn’t. I just felt this strange connection. Dragon or not, I felt compelled to spare him.”
“Because your heart is true,” Nuada explained, “and you follow it as one might a compass.” He crossed an arm over his chest and bowed his head slightly. “Therefore, I am in your debt, Daughter of Brigid. Whatsoever you ask of me, it is yours. Let this be a token of my eternal gratitude.”
Speech left me. It occurred to me I hadn’t showed the god any reverence once he’d stood before us, no curtsy or polite incline of my head. It wasn’t out of disrespect. I’d only forgotten, too shocked by his transformation. Yet here he was, bowing to me.
Even so, with bars of sunlight slanting into the canyon, he still looked like a king among gods. One ray hit his features directly, burnishing him in gold, and his silver hand glistened along with his chainmail. Chainmail…my pulse stuttered as my eyes raked over his body, remembering the way we’d waged war against him.
“Your injuries,” I said, embarrassment nearly choking me. I looked for blood on his person, hoping against hope we hadn’t inadvertently struck a god with a fatal blow.
“Peace,” Nuada said, holding up a hand to stay my concerns. “I have shed my injuries as I have the curse.”
The tension instantly bled out of my muscles. “Please forgive us,” I said. “We had no idea.”
“And I must ask your forgiveness as well. Oppressed by Morrígan’s magic, I could only think as a beast would.” Hence wh
y he’d attacked us so viciously, spewing fire, striking out with those brutal talons. My hand drifted to my stomach, where I could still feel the throbbing pain from when Nuada had used that tail to pummel me.
My gaze skated past him to the canyon beyond, where many of Morrígan’s treasures had either dissolved into liquid gold or were in the process of melting, the smell of burning metal polluting the air. Small fires still raged here and there among the clouds of dust, and deep grooves in the canyon walls marked all the places where Nuada’s dragon wings had scratched against them in our battle. I hated to think of those wings pinned down as they had been and was more thankful than I could ever describe that Nuada pardoned us for not knowing the truth.
The Sword of Light grew heavier in my hands. I’d already grown accustomed to the feel of its hilt, the ornate scrollwork fitting so perfectly against my fingers and palms. But at the end of the day, the weapon wasn’t mine. As much as I needed it, it didn’t feel right to steal it from a god, especially one who’d suffered for so long.
Clearing my throat, I presented it to Nuada. “I believe this is yours.”
I could practically feel Kai’s wisps of smoke long to snatch the sword from me. Or throttle me. Maybe both. A part of me was willing to join him. Another part didn’t want to take the sword without Nuada’s blessing. I would explain to him what we faced back home, and hopefully, he’d willingly part with the weapon for a little bit longer.
It turned out no explanations were needed. Nuada’s eyes rested on the glowing sword for a long moment, almost in a nostalgic way, as if he were recollecting those many battles of old that he’d fought with the Sword of Light at his side.
Finally, he shook his head. “You have rightfully come into possession of it, and further, you have proven yourself worthy of wielding it. Set it to the task for which you mean to use it. One day, I will call upon you to return it to me.”
