I had just turned this one little stone terror into two.
Both of the little demons stalked toward me, snarling and spitting fire, scorching the ground.
“Get down!” Dad yelled.
I dropped right as a bolt of light flew over my head. The bolt hit the gargoyles spot on and they burst into pieces of flaming stone. Dad rushed to my side. “Are you all right?” he asked.
I jumped to my feet. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
A small army of tiny fanged dragons started building behind him, rising in the air like a cloud.
“What…?” Dad turned around and his eyes widened. “Move!”
They flew at us and we leapt apart; the dragons rammed into the ground like bullets of fire. I rolled through the dirt until I smacked hard into something.
The giant dragon statue in the center of the arena.
I watched in horror as it slowly unfolded its enormous stone wings, as though it were stretching from centuries of rest, and the pole slipped out of its claws, clattering to the ground.
It spun its life-size dragonhead to me and blinked its eyes made of flame.
I turned and ran.
A horrible cry filled the air and shook the earth, as though a hundred horns blasted at once, drowning out every scream, every explosion. For a long terrible moment, every living being gaped at the stone giant, flexing its powerful wings and stretching its long reptilian neck.
It stopped, unhinged its enormous jaws, and the screaming commenced.
I had started following the crowd when I noticed the vox.
The dragon was stomping toward it, teeth bared with snarls like ten throttling engines. The vox struggled against his chains to fly away.
“Daria!” yelled my dad. “Get out of here!”
People crammed in the exits, escorted by the guard, trying to get out, away from the melee, while the crimson robes of the guild moved about the arena, keeping the dragon’s deadly minions at bay.
But none of them noticed the vox, and I couldn’t leave him to this monster.
The wind ripped through the arena and I caught a shimmer, just a few yards from where I was standing.
My dagger.
I ran forward, ignoring the burning in my leg, and snatched it from the ground.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Dad screamed.
I ran to the vox, dodging stone bullets and cannons of fire, jumping over debris, trying to keep most of my weight on my good ankle.
All the while, the dragon moved closer.
Please don’t notice my dagger…
The vox beat its wings, jerking and yanking on the chain, trying to get away from me but finding his other escape route blocked by a dragon.
I slid on the ground toward the vox. “Hold still!” I yelled.
The dragon was almost here…
I jerked, slicing the leather strap. “Got it!”
The vox flapped its wings, hard, knocking me down, and took off into the sky. The dragon turned its head to its escaping prey, and for a moment I thought it was going to go after it. But then it turned its fire eyes on me.
I pushed myself to my feet and sprinted.
The ground quaked as it ran after me, and it screamed. I covered my ears as I ran, stumbling over the trembling earth. At once, blasts of light shot from all directions, aimed at the giant on my tail, but the blasts ricocheted and a beam of light bounced back, straight at me. I jumped to the side, the heat grazing my leathers, leaving a narrow, scorched slit.
“Stop!” screamed my dad from somewhere. “You’ll hit Daria!”
The monster was gaining ground fast. I’d never outrun it. My ankle was starting to give out and the guild couldn’t use magic because I was too close. I felt its hot breath on my back as something dark swooped down in front of me.
The vox.
He whinnied and clawed at the earth, eyes fastened on me. With a grunt, I pushed myself up and climbed on his back.
The dragon’s jaws crunched behind us.
The wind screamed past my ears, burning my eyes and lungs, as we soared higher and higher, away from the arena. Away from the dragon. Maybe now the guild could destroy it.
A crashing sound made me look back. The dragon flapped its enormous wings, breaking down the tower beside it, and rose in the air, flying straight toward us.
Chapter 17
Change of Plans
“GO!” I yelled.
The stone dragon was gaining altitude, and fast.
The vox flapped his wings harder and harder, soaring higher and higher into the sky. And I began to feel…stronger.
The wind wrapped itself around me, around the vox, as if cradling us both, lifting the vox’s wings and imbuing them with strength. We were in the clouds now, and when I glanced over my shoulder, the arena was out of sight.
Up here there was nothing but white and snow. Sticking to my lashes, the vox’s mane, my cloak. But I didn’t feel cold; I didn’t feel fear.
I felt a part of it, somehow, and it was a part of me. As though I belonged up here.
The snapping of stone behind me brought me back. The dragon was getting closer.
But how could I get rid of it? I couldn’t use magic and the vox certainly couldn’t fly forever.
The wind howled and, suddenly, I had an idea. As if reading my mind, the vox dove. The air burned my eyes and nose and ears, and with a blast of sound, the dragon changed its course and flew after us.
“Come on,” I said to myself, gripping the vox’s mane tight.
Air screamed past my ears as the thick white blanket of clouds began to thin, and the glow from the fires in the arena came into view. It looked like most of the people had evacuated—those that remained were battling the tiny stone demons. Black smoke rose from the remaining towers; the arena’s field was ablaze with campfires.
The ground was approaching fast and the dragon was still close on our heels.
Just…a little…farther…
At the last second, we pulled up, straining against gravity’s pull, and the dragon crashed into the ground. The earth shook and for a second, the dragon lay in a heap, unmoving. But it quickly recovered, lifting its head, its wings, and soon rose while we glided a few feet from the littered earth, straight for the refreshment stand.
“Please be there, please be there,” I said to myself.
We reached it and I leapt from the vox. I landed in the stands with a crash, sliding down a few rows before catching myself. Coughing and choking on smoke, I scrambled up the steps toward the stand, while the vox flew to safety.
“You’ve got to be here somewhere…” I scoured the shelves.
The dragon was at the base of the stands now.
“There!” I grabbed the bottle of neon-green liquid from a broken shelf and pulled the cork, my heart drumming in my ears.
The dragon bellowed and I threw the bottle as hard as I could, right into its jaws.
The dragon’s scream abruptly stopped. It choked and snorted fire, shaking its head, trying to dispel the liquid now oozing inside of it.
Frost appeared on its neck at first, spreading rapidly down its body and along its nose. Its eyes burned red as it opened its jaws in fury, letting out another ear-splitting wail, but it was cut short by ice.
And the dragon froze, still as a statue. There was a sharp crack, and the dragon exploded into a million shards of frozen stone.
I shielded my head from the falling debris. When I looked up, Alex was there. His face was dark from smoke, his eyes intense, and he jumped to my side, studying me. “Are you all right?”
I nodded. “I…think so.”
He searched my face. “Most interesting use of fire and ice I’ve ever seen.”
I grinned, and he grinned back.
Without releasing my gaze, he grabbed my hand in his and yanked me to my feet. I winced, shifting my weight to my other foot. His lips tightened, but he said nothing.
Last time I’d seen him, he’d saved me from…
; I looked away from him, down at the arena, but he didn’t let go of my hand.
The small dragons that remained had suddenly stopped attacking. In fact, they were flying in erratic circles, on the ground and in the air. Some flew smack into each other and exploded in a shower of flaming stone, not to reassemble again. It was like they’d lost their purpose. It didn’t take long for the guild to finish them off.
“Come on,” Alex said gently. “I’ll help you walk.” He held my hand tightly as he helped me limp down the stands.
“Alex,” I said as we walked.
He looked back at me.
“Thanks…for earlier.”
He squeezed my hand hard as violence flashed in his eyes, and then he looked away.
His grip didn’t loosen, though, not even as he led me out onto the field.
The arena was a disaster. Only one tower was left standing—the Arborenne tower—and everything else was either charred or burning. The king stood to one side, hands raised, pressing a huge fire back, farther and farther, containing it so that other members of the guild could put it out.
“Daria!” my dad yelled.
Dad emerged from a plume of black smoke, coughing and covering his mouth. His face was blackened, his clothes singed and covered in ash, but his eyes shone bright and blue.
Alex dropped my hand as my dad wrapped his thick arms around me. “Thank the spirits you’re safe…” His voice trailed, and he pulled back and gripped my shoulders. “What in the blazes were you thinking?” he all but shouted.
Master Durus materialized from the black smoke. His eyes were dark, his lips curved down, and he was carrying his black, curved sword.
“The fire is contained and the dragons are all accounted for, my lord,” he rumbled. “It seems their magic was tied to that of the larger dragon’s.” His dark eyes flickered to me. “We must head back, though. The lords left in order to help the people out safely, and they are waiting for you in the assembly hall.”
****
The assembly hall was filled with shouting. The lords and nobility looked awful. Their rich clothing was ripped and torn and their once vibrant colors were blackened with ash, and they were all shouting at each other.
I noticed Lorimer, and then I saw Denn right behind him.
Denn looked terrible. One eye was swollen shut, the other side of his face was purple and green and blue, and his bottom lip was so swollen that his upper lip was invisible. It looked like his right arm was in a sling, too.
I couldn’t help but feel a sharp sense of satisfaction.
Denn met my gaze; I saw pure hatred in his before he glanced away.
“He said it’d be safe!” one yelled.
“King Darius is trying to scare us into letting him keep his seat on the throne,” said another.
“I knew she had magic,” said another.
“Look, there she is now!” shouted one. “Ask her!”
The crowd turned their attention to me, voicing their assent, the sound rising louder and louder. I saw Cicero and Sonya standing near Brant and his crew, trying to calm everyone down, but everyone would not be calmed. Not until there was a bellowing, “Silence!”
Master Durus stood in the doorway, arms folded over his broad chest.
“Let the princess through,” King Darius said from the front. The headmaster stood right beside him.
The crowd parted for me, glaring and grumbling as I passed all the lords, most of their Aegises, Vera and her people—all of them glowering at me as if given the chance, they’d kill me without a second thought.
Dad and Alex stood on either side of me with Cicero and Sonya following closely behind, like a protective barrier between them and me.
We reached the front of the room where the shield and stone and iron bowls stood on display. The fires still burned in each. Mine was at the far end, beside Pendel’s bowl, and I almost thought my flame burned a little taller.
The king looked at me as though he’d taken every ounce of the fire he’d contained in the arena, brought it into this room, and was about to throw it at me.
He looked back at the crowd. “You were saying, Lord Commodus?”
Lord Commodus stepped forward, his features darkened. “I didn’t want to believe the rumors, my king.”
King Darius’s eyes narrowed. “Which rumors, Commodus?”
Lord Commodus smiled sardonically and pointed to the side.
Confused, I followed his finger to the last bowl—Pendel’s bowl.
There was a flame burning inside of it.
“That you’ve been concealing her power,” Lord Commodus whispered.
But how could that be? In order for there to be a flame, there had to be either a contestant or a winner, and since there was neither…
A shadow passed over the king’s face. “You aren’t suggesting that I had something to do with that.” The candles in the room flickered.
Lord Commodus glared at me. “Perhaps the princess can help explain it to us.”
The crowd gaped at me and the king’s fury bubbled.
“What?” I whispered. “But I didn’t…”
“The guards,” Lord Commodus cut me off, “have sworn the flame appeared sometime during your…battle.”
Anger seethed from the crowd, and their whispering simmered.
“But I swear, I didn’t—“
“Liar!” shouted someone from the crowd.
“She set the dragons on us!” a tall, blonde woman yelled. “I saw her!”
The crowd suddenly decided they’d seen it, too, and started throwing insults again.
“That wasn’t me…” I said. “That was the dark rider.”
The crowd went silent.
The king stared at me as his eyes narrowed. “What did you say?”
The room waited.
I swallowed. “I saw him standing up in the stands right before it happened.”
An ugly sneer twitched at Lord Commodus’s lips. “How convenient. You…the only person in the entire arena that saw him.”
“Commodus…” my dad growled beside me.
Lord Commodus observed me a moment with a smirk and stood back.
“Maybe she did see him,” yelled a man from the back. “Maybe she’s working with him.”
“What?” I gasped. “I’m not—”
“That’s ridiculous—” started my dad, but our voices were lost in those of the crowd.
“Silence!” the king shouted. His fury wafted through the air like fire, and the chatter ceased at once. “My granddaughter is not working with the dark rider, nor is she the cause of all of this. I suggest”—his voice dropped to a frightening whisper—“you come up with a better solution.”
“Well, we can’t continue the games, now,” Lord Tosca’s voice boomed. “The arena’s destroyed.”
The crowd erupted in vicious insults again, and the doors to the assembly hall burst open with a loud crash.
Tran stood in the doorway. His white hair hung long over his wool layers and he was holding a knotted, wooden staff in his hand, looking very much like a wizard.
The silence in the room was palpable.
With sure steps, Tran walked forward, his staff tap-tap-tapping along the way.
“It can’t be,” someone whispered as he passed.
Tran’s clear blue eyes flickered to me and he winked, and then stopped before the king.
The king, however, looked as though he’d seen a ghost. “You…traitor.”
The candles in the room dimmed and sparked.
Tran smiled. “Come, now, Darius, you know better.”
The king’s inhale was sharp.
Tran observed the room—the shield and its pieces, the stone, each of the seven iron bowls, and his eyes lingered on the seventh. “Curious,” he said, scratching his long, white beard.
“What do you want here?” hissed the king. The air pulsed with heat.
Tran didn’t seem to notice and turned to the king with his hands clasped over his staff. �
��I warned you this day would come.”
The king’s cold eyes narrowed. “The day I would finally arrest you for your treason?”
Tran smiled. “No, no, I don’t fancy your dungeons much. Too many blood ants.” He scratched his arms as though he’d been bitten. He leaned forward, eyes fixed on the king. “What I’m referring to is the past.”
King Darius’s dirtied cheeks turned red. “The past is done.”
Tran arched a bushy white brow and held up a bony finger. “Ah, but the past is never done, my lord. It’s the foundation by which you have built your empire”—he waved his hand to the room—“but you were too hasty, Darius. The earth had fractured and rather than find out why, you hurried to patch it up, build over it in hopes that no one would see the dark abyss beneath you. It was only a matter of time before the strain was too much, the pressure too great, before everything you spent your entire life building collapsed.”
The king’s fury burned murderously.
Tran faced the crowd, and their cumulative fear matched his power.
“The games cannot stop,” Tran said. “They can never stop once started—not when the power of the unity stone has been invoked.” He stared absently at the stone, hovering there, pulsing with bright light and energy.
“But the arena has been destroyed!” someone shouted.
Tran looked back at the crowd. “I know very well what has happened to the arena, but it does not matter. I tell you that the shadowguard has returned—” the room erupted in gasps and exclamations “—and, as we speak, they are growing stronger, moving closer, positioning themselves to attack. You must retrieve the power of the stone, or you will not stand a chance against them.” His voice dropped. “Not this time.”
The people shouted in anger and disbelief.
“If what you say is true,” said the scantily clad blonde woman standing beside Vera, “then who is leading them?”
Tran sighed heavily, his eyes lingering on me. “Eris Mordryck Regius.”
Eris. The man in the mirror, in the painting—in my dreams. He really was alive.
The king extended a trembling hand, eyes wild. “You…you lie… Seize him!”
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