The Dragon Games

Captured

The morning sun filtered through my lashes, waking me. The first thing I became aware of was the pain. However long I had rested wasn't enough. Maxing out on the divine had taken its toll on my body; every limb ached something fierce, as if I had been trampled in a stampede, and then left out for the vultures to pick at. The second thing I noticed was Elio's face a foot from mine. As he slept, thick ropes bound his ankles and wrists.

I tried to push myself up, only to realize my wrists were bound behind my back, too. With some awkward maneuvering, I managed to look over my shoulder, at the campsite behind me. Nine Windsor pledges, armed to the tooth and camouflaged in mud and leaves, sat at a bonfire roasting deer. I recognized three of their faces immediately. Tobias, Rick, and Grace Midland.

Grace was divvying up the meat, handing the largest slices to her favorite pledges. Even covered in muck and crap, she looked as pretty and angelic as ever. I almost wanted to protect her – until she flicked her wrist, snapping the deer's neck in two. Then I figured I better free myself from these ropes, before she does the same to me.

Out of pure instinct, I called the divine, only to receive swift punishment. My muscles contracted, and a heat wave flushed through my body as if my veins had caught fire. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I rifled through my jacket to more disappointment. I had been stripped of all my blades. I turned to Elio, hoping he had a weapon stashed somewhere.

"Elio," I hissed. Then, I spoke a bit louder when he did not stir. "Elio."

His face scrunched up, his nose wrinkling. He blinked, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings. "Raven?" he said groggily.

"Where are we?" I whispered. "What's going on?"

"Grace Midland. She took me hostage and forced me to decipher a rough translation of the clue."

"But what does Grace want with me? Is she colluding with Edmond?"

"I'm getting there. The finished translation revealed instructions for a ritual to summon the most powerful dragon in the arena – the wyvern, we now know. There are three requirements – travel to Stonehedge, wait until the crimson moon rises, and spill lifeblood upon the clue. One and two are easy enough, but lifeblood presents a problem. Lifeblood can only be created after someone wields enough divine to bring themselves to the brink of death, and only four pledges in the arena are that powerful. Edmund and Atlas are too protected to catch, and Grace doesn't want to take that risk herself. So really, only one pledge can fulfill the ritual's requirements."

Elio's eyes met mine. I stilled at the implication, my breath catching. "How much lifeblood does the ritual require?" When Elio first looked at the clue, I distinctly remember hearing him saying 'one drop.' But I needed to hear the confirmation out loud that the Windsors weren't out to open my neck.

"One drop," Elio said. "Do as Grace says, and you'll escape unharmed. You'll probably still have time to bond with a dragon."

"Do as she says? You want to go along with this madness?"

He shrugged around his ropes. "It's not as if we have any other choice." He broke off, his eyes shifting to the bonfire. Grace had overheard our conversation. She was standing up, making her way toward us. "Cooperate," Elio murmured.

"Why the hell would I do that?" I hissed back.

"If you threaten Grace's claim to the wyvern, she won't hesitate to strike. Ask yourself, do I want to walk to Stonehenge on my own two feet or be carried because every bone in my body is too broken to use?"

I was dead pale when Grace arrived. She unsheathed her dagger, the wicked blade glinting against the sun. "Sorry," she said. "I don't mean to scare you. I'm only cutting your ropes. You won't attack me, will you?"