The Dragon Games

Fire Run

"Bloody hell!" Gordo burst out. "We just fought the drakes! It's the first day of Blood Fest; can we not have a moment to --"

A pillar of fire shot across the sky, about five or six miles away. This was no mere Basilisk or Lindworm. If the dragon could breathe fire, then it must be at least a Fey — a breed that was not supposed to arrive at Blood Fest until well past week two, when the moon was a soft red. Right now, the moon hanging above our head was pale pink, closer to white.

Elio stared at the sky, brilliant plumes of fire dancing in his eyes. "Was that a–"

"Ay," I said, my voice airy and weightless.

A scream rang from our campsite, one that sounded awfully similar to Bianca's voice. I broke into a sprint. The boys quickly followed, but before long, the air thickened with smoke, making it difficult to see or breathe. 

It coated my mouth and burned my eyes, and the deeper into the trees we ran, the heavier the smoke became, and the hotter the temperature. The fire was spreading, fast.

"Regan!" Gordo shouted. "Turn around!"

"Bianca is still out there!" I yelled back. 

Bianca was far too valuable to give up, the only person in their group I could sort of tolerate. I might even dare to say I did not mind her. Suddenly, a tree crackled and fell in front of our path, its branches engulfed in flame. I made out to jump over it, but Gordo caught my arm, hauling my back.

"Look!" he shouted, pointing at the path that lay ahead. 

The tree's fire was far from isolated. Flames rose above the treetops, rapidly catching. A wall of flames was consuming the marshes in front of us, and it was rapidly moving closer. If we did not turn around now, we would all be taken to the ashes. But Bianca...

Gordo grabbed my arm, hauling me back. I yanked, but his grip would not budge. My eyes burning black, I shoved him away with the Divine.

"Don't be a fool!" Gordo shouted, yelling at the top of his lungs to be heard over the raging flames. "There is no way Bianca sat in the campsite, waiting to die! She ran, and if she was here with us, she would tell you to do the same! Fool!"

I stared into the fire extending far and wide ahead, consuming everything in its path. I have lied, cheated, stolen, and intimidated. I have committed more crimes than I could count. 

My one saving grace was my loyalty. So long as a friend was loyal to me, I never turned my back on them. I took one more look at the fire. Then I swallowed the bile rising up my throat and turned around.

Realistically, I knew that getting myself killed in the fire would do Bianca no good. Nothing could be done for Bianca at this point. But it didn't matter. Turning around and running still felt like one of the foulest things I have ever done.

—------

As we ran, more and more trees became torches, lighting up the night. Smoke drowned out the stars and clung to my throat like I was being cooked from the inside out. I tied a strip of cloth over my mouth, but each inhale still sent ragged pain down my throat.

Gordo shouted, his voice so raspy it was lost in the crackling fire. He had to grab me and Elio's arms to get our attention and just managed to duck behind a bush before he was retching. As Gordo emptied his guts, Elio and I caught our breath, doubling over on our hands and knees.

"How much longer should we give him?" I rasped.

"We put some distance between us and the fire, but our lead won't last for long. We can't afford more than a few minutes." Elio's eyes unfocused. They slipped from my face to something over my shoulder. I turned around to spot four figures running out of the smoke.

"Gordo," Elio said. "We have company."

In an instant, all three of us were on our feet, weapons at the ready. A moment later, four Stewards emerged from the fog. One lagged behind, sporting a twisted ankle. The other three – tall, fit boys – were armed to the tooth. 

A bandana covered the lower half of their faces, and soot clung around their eyes, darkening their faces like masks. Elio and Gordo braced for combat, but I shoved between them to stand in front. I recognized the boy in the middle by his eyes alone.

"Atlas?" I exclaimed.

Atlas lowered his sword, his eyes crinkling with a grin. "Regan bloody Black!"

Elio looked between me and Atlas, his sword wavering. "Do you know each other?"

Atlas and I replied at the same time.

"Not really," I said.

"She's the love of my life," Atlas declared. 

Neither group seemed to know how to react to that, especially when I did not protest. I'd be his wife, his prince charming, his whatever got us out of this fire sooner.

"What say we lower our arms and escape the fire together as friends?" Atlas said.

Elio glanced at me. "You trust him?"

Not unless his name was Samuel Kruger. I nodded anyway.

Gordo did not lower his sword. He narrowed his eyes at Atlas, his bottom lip still wet with vomit. "You have any water?"

"Uh, yes?"

Gordo lowered his sword. Just like that, three became seven. And the further we ran, the more our numbers grew. The fire had spread far and wide, herding the other groups scattered across the marshes into their path. 

Most of the groups were too injured or exhausted to reach for their weapons, and the ones that did quickly gave up when they realized the numbers were not on their side. Atlas became our defacto leader, running at the front of the pack and steering the way. 

He wore two bags – neither his own; they were the bags of pledges too injured to carry their own equipment – but kept a steady pace as the hours wore on. That is, until he ran up one of the hills.

Atlas's boots stuttered. He stopped at the top of the hill, his face going slack at the sight before him. When the other pledges reached the top, they also froze, the wall of fire roaring behind them forgotten in an instant. I paused, taking a second to call the Divine to my fingertips. Then I ran up the rest of the way up, ready for a fight.

The top of the hill gave a clear view of the arena. A few miles south of the marshes, a row of trees had been demolished, their trunks flattened into the ground to form a pathway leading to a huge black dragon keeled over on its side. 

Its jaw had fallen open, revealing rows upon rows of midnight black teeth. It was Blacktooth, the crown jewel, the most dangerous, most coveted beast in the arena... and its guts were spilled across the forest floor.

"It died," a Windsor gasped.

"No," I said, my wide eyes tracking Blacktooth's wounds. "Something killed it."