The Dragon Games

Venom

Enough rest. I pushed myself up to my knees, ringing out my hair. I scanned the swamp and saw Elio's bag sitting not far away. He was the only one who had the good sense to drop his bag before jumping into the swamp. 

But even his quick thinking hadn't saved his bag. The drakes tore everything to shreds, except his steel weapons. There was some food behind, but it was splattered with drake venom, making it untouchable.

"What are we going to do for food?" I said.

Gordo rolled his eyes. "We have greater concerns than your hungry belly. We'll eat later."

"How?" I said. "The drakes poisoned Elio's bag, and the rest of our food is sitting in the bottom of the swamp."

Gordo, Bianca, and Elio's faces dropped. They turned back to the swamp, staring into the opaque waters. No one bothered suggesting the Divine. Without being able to see in the water, there was no way to use it. And no way would I risk turning my blood black this early in Blood Fest.

So after catching our breath, we dove back into the swamp. We were able to find Bianca's bag quickly and lift it from the swamp together. We scavenged some medical supplies and weapons, but the water had long ruined our food, turning it into mushy slop. But the rest of the bags were looking like a lost cause.

The more I swam, the more exhaustion crept up on me. I was the first to quit the search and lay back on the grass. I don't recall falling asleep. The next thing I knew, someone grabbed my shoulder, shaking me awake. 

Gordo, Bianca, and Elio squinted down at me, and for the life of me, I couldn't understand why they looked so worried. All was how it should be: I was lying in bed at the care home, perhaps a little hungry, but that was to be expected. I didn't deserve as much food as the older kids. I was only six years old, after all.

"Are you alright, Regan?" Bianca said. "You look pale. Well, paler."

Gordo turned Elio and muttered something about a bite. I frowned, racking my head for what 'bite' he referred to. Suddenly, I remembered.

"Of course I didn't," I slurred, pushing myself back onto my feet. "You go tell Miss Agnes I never bit Angelo. Never ever, not once, not one time."

I punctuated each point by stabbing Gordo's chest with my pointer finger. Elio caught my arm mid-poke and twisted it around to reveal two pricks just above my wrist.

Gordo swore under his breath. "Does anyone know an antidote?"

"Isn't there always a naturally occurring remedy in the marshes?" Bianca said. "Instructor Austen spoke of some mushrooms that mitigated the poisons' effects, but I can't remember their name."

Bianca and Gordo turned to Elio. He excelled in Instructor Austen's classes.

"Ah," Elio said, grimacing. "I wish I knew."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Gordo burst out. "You're the best student in her class! What's the point of knowing everything, when you fail to know the one thing we actually need?"

"I don't know what to tell you, Gordo. I can't think of anything."

Gordo grabbed Elio's collar, his eyes flashing. "Think harder."

"Hey!" Bianca snapped, shoving them apart. "We need to stay united, now more than ever. Quit pointing fingers."

"I only have nine fingers," I said brightly. "Want to see?" I held my hands up high and started counting each finger. "One, five, five, five, twenty, eight, orange, seven, and nine."

Gordo turned to Elio, his eyes wild. "Fix her!"

"He doesn't know how!" Bianca screamed back.

"I don't need fixing. I've never felt better," I said. At least, that was what I intended to say. Instead, a gooey string of words, slurred and mashed together, left my mouth.

Bianca turned away from Gordo, fear replacing her anger. "Regan?" she said.

The ground slipped out from under my feet, and I fell on my stomach. When I picked my head up, the time and location had changed. I was lying on a beach, and the moon burned bright overhead, painting the sand in a bluish glow. 

The wind howled, scraping my clothes, and the ocean warred against the shore. Black waves rose ten feet high, crashing down like thunder.

Suddenly, someone knocked past my shoulder. Two silhouettes sprinted past me. The third stopped and offered me a hand up. It was too dark to make out their face, only their ram skull tattoo.

"What are you waiting for?" Their voice echoed over itself like they were speaking in a cave. "He's gaining on us!"

I started reaching for their hand, then pulled back. Something at the back of my brain nagged at me. Something was wrong, but I could not say what.

"I'm not leaving without you!" they screamed.

Their voice had such wild, animal-like fear that I didn't think. My instincts took over, and as soon as I clasped their hand, a gust of wind swept across the shore, knocking all four of us off our feet. A shadow darted across the night sky, fast as lightning.

It engulfed the stars, snuffing the lights out with one blow. Suddenly, everywhere I looked, there was darkness. I could hear the crash of waves, the wind rustling the sand, and the hollow distant screams, but I saw nothing but black. 

As I stumbled through the darkness, I stretched my hand out, trying to make out what lay ahead of me. But no matter how far I went, I found nothing but cold air. A blood-curdling scream sliced through the darkness.

"Regan!"

I whipped around. A hundred yards away, a silhouette was on their knees, clawing at their throats. Then the silhouette's hair shifted, revealing their face. Thin and gangly, around my age, with at least five piercings in each ear. 

I knew that face. I had grown up with him and watched him change from boy to man. From an orphan to a raider to dragon food.

"Regan!" Marcus screamed.

I broke into a sprint. Just as I threw my arms around Marcus, his screams cut off with a ragged gasp, and I stumbled through a cloud of mist. Once again, I was alone in the darkness. But this time, the quiet didn't last for long.

"One more time." 

His voice came from everyone and nowhere all at once. It started as a whisper, then built up with intensity, growing louder with each word. 

"Disappoint me one more time, and I will kill you. I don't care how far you run. I don't care how long it takes. I will hunt you to the ends of the earth if it is the last thing I do."

From the darkness, Drax emerged, his eyes crackling back, his hands wet with blood. Rage poured into my body. Screaming, I ran forward, brandishing my dagger. But before I could plunge it through his heart, a hand caught my wrist.

Suddenly, I was back in the woods. I was lying on my back, and Gordo was kneeling over my chest, breathing hard. His hair stuck out in wild spikes, and a fresh bruise bloomed across his left eye. He clasped my wrist in a death grip, stopping my dagger from reaching its final target. I hadn't been swinging at Drax. I had been swinging at my own throat.

Bianca had been knocked on her ass a couple of yards away. Her chest heaved up and down, and four nail marks scraped across her cheek. Elio sat beside her, rubbing his bruised throat.

"There was not another dragon attack if that's what you're wondering," Gordo said with wild eyes, gesturing at our surroundings. "This was all you."