The Dragon Games

Code Red

As I laced my boots for our morning session at the dragon stables, Elio changed in front of his bed, his back to me. The rising sun glinted off his skin, playing off his messy black hair. His back muscles flexed as he tugged on a shirt, and a bead of sweat trailed between his shoulder blades and disappeared into the hem of his pants. 

Not that he had much muscle to speak of. 

With his scrawny build and poor fighting skills, Elio was the opposite of what I expected from a commander's son. He didn't have much luck or interest in any field of combat – hand to hand, weaponry, or divine. His mind always seemed to be elsewhere on the training field, like in one of his many books.

Gordo cut in front of my line of vision, his arms crossed as he stared me down. "Yesterday, after Instructor Finnegan left, I sparred with Edmond."

"Oh? How'd that go?"

"Didn't you burn down Edmond's manor?"

I tensed. I hadn't realized he and Edmond were close. "I was the lookout. I didn't even enter the building."

"Too bad. Edmond's a cunt." 

Without another word, Gordo stormed out the door. Me and Bianca exchanged a glance. The instant we locked eyes, we burst out laughing. 

 I wasn't sure when it happened, but apparently, Bianca and I got on well now. We even had a daily routine of walking to the dragon stables together with Elio tagging along. He always made sure to keep Biance in between us, so we did not get too close. 

It wasn't that Elio was ever uncivil toward me – he just liked to be civil at a distance. At a far, far distance.

"What's Gordo's problem with Edmond?" I said as we cut across the lawn. "Didn't I beat Gordo, too?"

Gordo went into our match assuming that my previous wins had been flukes. He went on this whole spiel about how forfeiting my ladyhood to join Blood Fest also meant I forfeited any expectations for mercy, so I better not cry too loudly when he break my nose. 

Or was it my spirit? 

I didn't quite catch the last part of his speech, too busy knocking him out of the circle.

"You didn't soak in the win like Edmond did," Bianca said. "Most pledges are nowhere near Edmond's level, so he doesn't fight to win. He fights to humiliate. But I suppose I don't really know." She shot Elio a pointed look. "I am not good friends with Edmond."

"Good friends?" Elio said, raising his brows. "Since when am I good friends with Edmond Balthasar?"

"Your father is the commander of the Sword Brethren. You're bound to run into him."

"Well, sure. We know of each other, but we don't know each other."

"You know enough," Bianca prompted, smiling like she was trying not to. "He's insufferable, isn't he? You think he's insufferable."

Elio looked away, ever the proper and honorable commander's son. "It's not my place to say."

Bianca and I exchanged a glance. "He's insufferable," we concluded.

When we arrived, Instructor Gallagher lined the pledges against the back of the stables. A Tudor grad leaned against the wall, watching us in silence. 

"How does one survive a dragon attack?" Instructor Gallagher asked the group.

Ten hands shot in the air.

"Trick question!" Instructor Gallagher boomed, scaring all of the hands down. "One does not survive a dragon attack. One dies a slow, brutal, excruciating death."

"What about drakes?" Buford asked.

"Drakes are not real dragons," Instructor Gallagher said, all but rolling his eyes. "When faced with a real dragon – basilisk and up – the only way to survive is to ensure that you never provoke it in the first place. Humans are not dragon's preferred food source – especially not divine humans. Dragons have no reason to attack you, so if you value your life, do not give them one."

Instructor Gallagher nodded at the grad standing by his side. The grad crossed the floor and began turning the crank on one of the vaults.

"Today, we are practicing what to do when you cross paths with a dragon in the arena. Code red. It means no moving, talking, or eye contact until the dragon leaves. Better yet, try not to think too loud." 

 Instructor Gallagher walked up and down the line, skewering each pledge with a stern glare. "Each and every one of you must be perfect. Dragons do not distinguish the individual from the group. If one pledge messes up, everyone suffers. Before we begin, is everybody ready? Does anyone need a break?"

"Can I take a piss?" Buford said.

"Trick question, there are no piss breaks in the arena!" Instructor Gallagher swiveled around to thrust a finger at the grad. "Begin!"

The grad yanked the handle, and the door cried out a hollow creek. From the darkness, a lindworm came slithering out. It looked like a huge python; its body wider than I was tall and long enough to wrap around the stables twice. We held still as statues as the lindworm slithered up the wall, its beady red eyes fixed on nothing in particular.

At first, my heart pounded so hard that I was afraid it would break code red. The other Tudors looked no better than I did, pale faced and scared stiff, finally seeing a dragon as something other than their new pet. 

But as the minutes turned into hours, and it became clear that the grad wasn't calling off his dragon any time soon, our fear gave way to restlessness. We'd spend the entire class in code red. Maybe longer if Instructor Gallagher was in the mood.

Around lunch time, some pledges began shifting their weight from leg to leg, grimacing. My foot had fallen asleep twice. I made the mistake of standing in line with a window, and sunlight beamed at just the right angle to nail the corner of my eye. 

But Buford had it far worse. His face was red and pinched – no doubt regretting every cup of water he had ever drank – and even he made less noise than Elanor.

Elanor, the reedy pledge standing beside me, kept twitching, her breath growing shallow. Keeping my head fixed ahead, I risked a glance out of the corner of my eye. Elanor's eyes were wide, petrified with fear. 

A silver ring teetered on the edge of her nail, and she could do nothing but watch it fall. I twitched my fingers, catching the ring with the Divine a hair before it hit the ground. We let out a silent breath – just as a yell rang out from the other side of the stable.

"Good gods!" Gordo screeched, jerking his boot back. It seemed Gordo had not noticed Buford silently relieving himself until he was standing in a puddle of piss. "You son of a–"

The lindworm's head jerked toward Gordo, and it threw its head back with a loud hiss, baring its fangs. Gordo froze, his eyes going wide. He threw up his arms to cover his face, as if some flesh and bone could protect him against the wraith of a dragon. 

At breakneck speed, the lindworm snapped forward, lunging for his neck. The pledges all abandoned code red, falling and screaming and running. I braced myself for the snap of bone, but it never came. The grad had stepped in front of the lindworm's path, calming his dragon down.

I let out a ragged breath, my heart pounding a mile a minute. I looked around the stables to find that only one pledge had not broke code red.

"Wow," Elanor said, observing Elio in awe. "That was the bravest thing I have ever seen."

"Ay," I agreed, though I thought the opposite. Was it bravery or terrible reaction time? No doubt once Elio enters the arena, he will be killed in a heartbeat. "Guts of steel, that one."