Tales from the Arena

Fire and Ice

IceWings hated heat. They distrusted fire. Only the sun's warmth was tolerable, especially muted as it was in the chill of the Ice Kingdom. So Snowdrop knew her death wasn't going to be a gentle one.

Of course, whether you would die in Scarlet's arena was never the question. It was just a matter of how long you would last, and who would kill you.

Five former battles. Snowdrop remembered each of her opponents. Cormorant. Jackal. Pigeon. Tide. Coyote. Snowdrop had been forced to fight and kill them, earning scars of her own in the process. But after each battle, she still whispered prayers to the Great Ice Dragon for their souls. She wanted to remember them, to ensure they wouldn't be added to the numbers of the arena's forgotten dead.

It was a strange quirk of the arena. The kill or be killed rule was an even greater certainty than on the battlefield. And yet, the prisoners had an enemy that most of them loathed even more than each other: Queen Scarlet, the arena's mastermind, and Peril, its ultimate weapon. The common enemies none of them could strike, creating an odd bit of solidarity. Snowdrop's commitment to honoring her opponents was her personal attempt at defying the SkyWing queen, refusing some small measure of the enmity the arena would cultivate. But now, it looked as though the blood-soaked sands would have the final word. Snowdrop would die, and the dragons she'd fought would be all the more forgotten.

Snowdrop eyed the SkyWing, her muscles tense. Scarlet's Champion paced towards her, unhurried and confident in her victory.

Snowdrop blocked out the crowd's cheering and taunting. It would only distract her.

When Peril came near, Snowdrop blew a spray of frostbreath right at her eyes. Peril let out a surprised hiss, bringing her claws up instinctively.

As Snowdrop had known, the ice had no effect. But Peril was distracted long enough for Snowdrop to duck past her.

She tried to think of anything she might be able to do. Her frostbreath was useless, and Peril was literally untouchable. She could throw sand in the SkyWing's eyes, but that wouldn't kill her. Maybe there was a loose rock from the arena walls Snowdrop could brain her with?

Peril had spun around, and leaped at Snowdrop again. The IceWing backpedaled, twisting around and narrowly avoiding the burning claws about to stomp down on her tail. The crowd let out an excited yell as she fled again, the sand shifting beneath her claws.

How is this even entertaining? Snowdrop wondered. They knew how this would end; where were the stakes in it?

Snowdrop slowed near the arena wall, turning to look at her opponent. Peril's weird blue eyes were fixed on her as she stalked closer, like a wolf closing in on an injured rabbit. Snowdrop paced along the wall, keeping her gaze on Peril but scanning for a useful stone in her peripheral vision. And as long as she was hoping, maybe a convenient lightning bolt would come down from the sky.

The crowd's voice became more muted behind her as Peril neared. Could Snowdrop maybe climb the wall? Get into the stands? Of course, that likely meant one of the spectators would just kill her instead, but Peril couldn't reach her. And maybe Snowdrop could leave her mark on the tribe that meant to celebrate her death, and draw a little blood before she went out.

But no. Even if she were to try, she had left it too late, as Peril's claws flashed at her. Snowdrop instinctively swung her wing forward to protect her face. Three lines of searing heat scored across her wing, and she let out a screech of pain. She stumbled away, holding her wing against her side.

Peril turned back towards her, calm and unhurried.  Snowdrop retreated, putting some distance between herself and the deadly firescales.

Something glinted at Peril's feet, a curve of silver-black metal lying in the sand. Snowdrop backed away, putting even more distance between them.

She didn't look back at the metal piece. If it was what she thought it was, she didn't want to draw attention to it. Instead, she focused on her wing, shifting the burned areas slightly. It hurt, but there was nothing rubbing against her damaged scales.

Snowdrop thought again of the curve of metal, letting out a warning hiss that didn't faze Peril at all.

She had an insane idea. It was simple in theory, hard to pull off, and even harder to make it mean something. But it was all she had.

"Snowdrop, Peril, hurry it up," came a cold voice from the queen's balcony. "We don't have all day for this. IceWing, what kind of soldier does this much running? Peril, do your job."

Peril lunged. Snowdrop dove beneath her outstretched wing, darting towards a section of the stands where the crowd was thinner. She scooped up a handful of sand and flung it at Peril for good measure.

Peril shook the sand from her scales and rounded on Snowdrop again. Snowdrop flicked her tail forward as though striking at Peril's face. A feint, but the SkyWing fell for it, reaching up to catch the blow. Snowdrop instead swung her bound wing at her opponent's raised talons. Pain shot through her, but she was rewarded by a soft thump as the second clamp hit the sand. She snatched up the pieces, keeping her wing furled against her side as she rolled painfully, got back to her feet, and retreated again towards the arena wall. She took a deep breath as Peril stalked closer, summoning up all the ice she could. Then she swung her head and blasted a thick stream of ice into the stands.

Spectators scrambled out of the way. Snowdrop looked back and hurled part of the wing clamp straight at Peril.

Her aim was perfect. the shot caught the Champion in the soft part of her throat and Peril stumbled, choking. Snowdrop used the same throwing motion to spin towards the stands and leap into the air. Her burns sang with pain but she ignored it, beating her wings and coaxing all the speed she could from her flight. She shot over the stunned crowd, spraying ice ahead of her again.

One SkyWing had the presence of mine to attack her. But Peril's claws had seared the metal clamp to a sharp point, and Snowdrop stabbed the remaining metal into his neck. The SkyWing fell, landing heavily across some of his tribemates. And then Snowdrop was free of the stands and beating her wings for a narrow canyon she'd seen from the prison towers.

The angry roaring of SkyWings filled the air from behind her, but above it she heard other voices: the remaining prisoners cheering for her.

"Keep flying!"

"Go, go, go!"

"Don't stop, don't give up!"

"Fly, Snowdrop, fly!"

"You can do this!"

Snowdrop heard wingbeats behind her. But she tucked her wings and dove, arcing into the canyon where the SkyWings couldn't follow. The sounds of the voices were cut off, but Snowdrop still felt their cheers in her bones.

She would escape, she promised them. She would humiliate Scarlet, Peril, and the rest of the SkyWings for them. Her fellow prisoners wouldn't wake one morning to see her corpse tossed as an example on the arena sands.

Take this, Peril, Scarlet, Snowdrop thought. You don't win every time.