The Dragon Games

The Sword Brethren

An arrow sprouted through Viper's chest.

I whipped around to find three knights facing me, arrows at the ready. What the hell? Nowhere near an hour had passed since Viper spotted the approaching cavalry.

"Get down!" a knight shouted. "Head in the grass!"

With one hand, I sent a wave of divine to knock the knights clean off their feet. With the other, I grabbed the knight who had spoken. He sailed through the air and stopped a foot from my hand.

"How did you get here so fast?" I said.

He opened his mouth, defiance sparking in his eyes.

"Careful." I clenched my fist, and one of the fence's black spears snapped in two. "That was iron. Imagine how easy bone will snap."

The knight flinched. "We split into two groups. One to stomp through the woods, making as much noise as possible to take your attention away from the real threat. The other group rode ahead, taking hidden routes, so we could ambush you unaware."

"I only see three of you," I said. "Where's the rest of your ambush?"

He hesitated, so I clenched my fist again, snapping another iron spear.

"Storming in through the back," he said in a rush. "We were supposed to shoot anyone who escaped through the front."

"If I wanted to escape a run-in with the other squad, which direction should I ride in?"

"East."

"I'll ride west, then."

When his eyes widened, I knew I had guessed right, and he had lied.

"Thanks," I said with a smirk. 

I opened my palm and dropped him, feeling lighter than I had in months. While our current situation was bad, it could be a lot worse. The raiders and knights duking it out gives me the perfect opportunity to escape unnoticed. With any luck, Drax will get caught in the crosshairs and die a horrific –

An ear-splitting roar shook the ground, nearly knocking me off my feet. A group of knights circled the stables, but none dared to step within Rauuk's range. Their stares were directed up, at the stables' roof. 

Chick was scrambling across the panels, his eyes fixed on Rauuk's empty saddle. He was going to vault aboard and steal our best shot of winning a fight against the Sword Brethren.

My face twisted at the sight. Upstaging Drax's stupidity should have been impossible, but Chick was hell bent on knocking him clean out of the water. Dragons only accept divine riders, so when Chick inevitably drives Rauuk into a rampage, the dragon will kill everyone – raider and knight – indiscriminately. 

More importantly, the dragon will kill me.

Running for the stables, I tried to grab Chick with the divine but missed, blasting the panels in front of his foot. Chick glanced in my direction, and when we locked eyes, he whipped around and doubled his speed.

"You're not Rauuk's rider, you moron!" I shouted. I kept blasting at Chick and hitting the panels instead. He was too far, too small of a target, moving too fast. "You're not divine! It's going to kill you!"

"I'd like to see you try!"

"Not me!" I shrieked, wanting to yank my hair out. "It! Rauuk! Rauuk is going to—"

Chick jumped. I had half a hope he would miss the dragon and faceplant in the grass, but his fat butt landed square in the middle of the saddle. To my surprise, Rauuk didn't screech or buck or blast fire. Instead, the dragon squared its shoulders, testing the new weight on its back. 

Suddenly, it shot into the sky like an arrow, taking a chunk of the stables' roof with it. With three flaps of its wings, Rauuk was soaring in the clouds. The dragon glided away from the manor, haloed in gold against the afternoon sun, Chick' hair whipping in the wind like a victory flag. 

Maybe I was wrong. 

Maybe Chick really was —

Rauuk bucked, throwing Chick into the sky. His arms and legs flailed in the air as he soared higher. Then he arched down, plummeting into Rauuk's waiting jaws. I whipped away, squeezing my eyes shut, but still heard Chick's scream, followed by a loud snap of bone. Even some of the knights winced at the noise.

But now was not the time to panic. I allowed myself three seconds to calm my breath – one, two, three – then took off. While the knights were busy gawking at the sky, I sprinted to the horses. Slicer was already there, untying his ride. 

He looked like he had fought an army to make it out of the manor. His clothes were torn and uneven, and his light gray mask was splattered with blood, twisted halfway around his face.

"Move," I said, shouldering him aside. 

I swung my dagger, severing the knot tying his horse to the stables. Just as I handed Slicer the horse's reins, he swung. I jumped back. The dagger missed my neck and clipped my forearm, slicing clean through my sleeve and drawing a faint line of blood. 

He swung again, but this time, I was ready. I opened my hand, and Slicer went sprawling, landing several yards away in the grass.

"Madman," I rasped, turning back to the horse. "I was helping you!"

I reached for the reins to hoist myself up but missed, grazing the saddle. I tried again, and this time I didn't even reach the horse. My hand swiped clean through the air. Then my legs trembled, and I nearly crashed on my face. 

Every limb in my body was buzzed and numb, except for my arm, which felt like it was on fire. The dagger had drawn a shallow cut, and the tips of my flayed skin were tinted blue. I had been poisoned.

I shuddered, and my knees hit the ground. I would have face-planted, but Slicer caught me by the shoulders. He yanked his mask off, revealing a boy around my age with high cheekbones, a messy thatch of raven black hair, and startling blue eyes – almost as blue as the poison the bastard had stabbed me with. 

Most importantly, his neck was clean. Where all raiders had the ram's skull, he had nothing. Not a raider, I realized groggily, through the haze spreading through my head, making thinking nearly impossible. A member of the Sword Brethren posing as a raider. 

I didn't know whether to curse or be impressed.

He ripped off my mask, so our faces were inches apart. "Elio Bates," he murmured.

"Huh?" I barely managed to spit the word out. The numbness had spread to my tongue, which felt fat and foreign in my mouth. I could bite it off without noticing.

"Elio Bates," he repeated. "That's my name, in case you need something to curse at the gallows."

That was the last thing I remembered before the poison pulled me under.

Elio Bates.