The Dragon Games

Arrival

I have seen many dragon landings. Blacktooth arrived in a blur of talons and fire, hundreds of past victims caught between the folds of its teeth. Rauuk arrived like a predator, landing with such precision that the ground didn't so much as flinch under its six-ton weight. 

And the wyvern? 

The wyvern hit the ground stumbling, nearly face-planting over its own talons. After a little staggering to correct its balance, the wyvern clobbered past the Windsors with all the grace of a drunk chicken. 

It was much smaller than it appeared in the sky — a mere fraction of Blacktooth — and its limbs were poorly proportioned, its overlarge head threatening to topple the dragon off balance with each stride.

Roughly a field away, the wyvern jerked to a halt. My hand flew to my shank, and the Windsors tensed, their breath catching – only for the wyvern to thrust its enormous head in a patch of wild dandelions. 

The wyvern ate a dandelion, shook its head at the taste, and spit out a gobby mess of petals. Then it ate another dandelion and repeated the process. After the third dandelion, you'd think the wyvern would learn its lesson, but it stubbornly ate a fourth and a fifth and a sixth. 

I glanced at Elio, my brows raised near my hairline. This? This was the mighty wyvern?

Elio leaned forward, squinting hard, his brows pushed together. Suddenly, his eyes widened. He turned to me. "It's a hatchling!" he whispered. "The wyvern's just a baby."

The Windsors had not come to the same realization; that was apparent from one look in their direction. They wore the face of somone who had been scammed of every copper to their name, who had thrown away their only chance at bonding with a dragon for the letdown of the century. 

But despite the nasty surprise, the Windsors did not waver from code red. Knees down, weapons lowered, silent as the dead. Slowly, Grace rose to her feet. She pushed her shoulders back and lifted her chin, her eyes blazing with determination.

"It is obvious what is going on," she declared. "The wyvern is not only the strongest dragon in the arena; it is also the smartest. It pretends to be simple-minded to lull its prey into a false sense of –"

Loud gagging interrupted Grace's speech. The wyvern's head was cocked toward the sky, its shoulders heaving as it regurgitated another dandelios ... along with a small boulder.

"A real political mastermind, eh?" a Windsor murmured.

"It killed Blacktooth," Grace snapped. "It will be mine." She strode toward the wyvern, her eyes blazing, her long braid gleaming against the night. She stopped ten feet in front of the wyvern. The wyvern's head was back in the dandelion patch, gnawing away like there was no tomorrow. For a full minute, Grace just stared at it, not moving.

"Why isn't she saying the wyvern's name?" I whispered. "Is she not worthy?"

"Say thy name," Elio murmured, more to himself than me. "Perhaps... perhaps Grace is supposed to say her own name, not the wyvern's. Why else would the clue give us those instructions? What's the point of repeating information we already know?"

It seemed Grace was coming to the same conclusion. She stepped forward, refusing to be ignored. 

"Mighty wyvern," she said. "My name is Grace Midland, of the great and noble Midland bloodline, of prosperity on my father's side and royalty on my mother's." 

The wyvern continued to chow down. 

Grace's jaw ticked. She raised her voice, nearly shouting. "My name is Grace Midland!" When the wyvern still did not react, Grace went even louder. "Grace Midland commands you to give her what she is due!"

The wyvern froze, its shoulders going rigid. Grace grinned, but her face dimmed as the wyvern slowly rose to its hindlegs, towering over her. Its shadow drowned her in darkness, blocking out the crimson moon, and its eyes narrowed to thin slits, sharp and cold as daggers. 

For the first time since the wyvern landed, I felt afraid. The wyvern may be a newborn, uncoordinated and immature, but it was still a wyvern, capable of slaying Blacktooth without earning so much as a scratch. And the only protection we had against it – the clue – was suddenly looking shaky at best.

"So the ritual said it would summon the wyvern," a Windsor said, his voice high and squeaky. "But what did it say about taming it?"

"Do you hear me?" Grace shouted. "My name is Grace Midland! Show me what I am due!"

The wyvern whipped its tail, hitting Grace square in the chest. She flung across the field like a rag doll and smacked against a tree trunk. Then she hit the ground, and she did not get back up. The Windsors froze, their faces emptying of color. Then the wyvern's head jerked right, looking directly at Stonehedge.

"Oh," Elio whispered tonelessly. "Oh, shit."

"RRRUUUUNNNN!" a Windsor screamed.

I shot to my feet, but a wave of dizziness nearly sent my crashing to my knees. Elio wrapped an arm under my shoulders, letting my use him as a crutch. Together, we ran into the woods. 

You'd think I'd be utterly wasted after maxxing out on the divine, but my adrenaline was working overdrive. My arms and legs were blissfully numb; I couldn't feel anything but my heart, which pounded against my rib cage like a war drum.

In seconds, Elio and I lost sight of the Windsors, the fog too thick to see more than ten feet ahead. But even if we could not see the others, we could hear their labored breaths – and then a jagged scream, abruptly cut off by a crunch. And once the screaming started, it didn't stop. Soon it was followed by the woosh of falling trees, splintered wood, and snapping bone.

"Just up this hill," Elio rasped as we ran up the incline. He shouldered most of my weight, his arm like a band of steel across my hips. "The wyvern doesn't have our scent. If we can get out of sight, then—"

The wyvern's tail shot out from the fog. Suddenly, we were airborne, and Elio's arm ripped from me. I flailed through the air for a moment, then hit the ground tumbling, falling head over boots the rest of the way down the hill, until I landed in an unfamiliar part of the woods. 

I pushed myself to my feet and was about to shout for Elio, when a low growl came from behind me. I jumped behind a tree, just in the nick of time. 

A heart beat later, the wyvern prowled out of the fog.