Chapter Twenty-three #2
We dodge a barrage of scales that rain down like molten hail, and my ears tremor with the grating sound of a furious roar. The dragon disappears into the gorge beneath the bridge.
“Be ready,” Taron says beside me. “It’ll be back with a vengeance.”
Be ready? My thoughts come in shattered bursts.
I don’t know what to do. The flurry of emotions within me is too wild and skittish to sculpt, so I turn my attention to the air around me, finding the fear and grief and pain that threads through the island breeze.
And there’s something else, drawing me to the last red team member who took a scale to the heart.
A dark mist is exuding from her, as though her shadow is peeling away from her. It’s the slow birth of a Soul Wraith.
I absorb it deep within me. Since the Soul Wraith isn’t fully spawned yet, I can easily suppress the vision that follows: a playback of demise.
Using the borrowed energy, I sculpt a long serpentine whip that unfurls through the air like a stream of liquid shadow.
It thrashes like it’s alive, and it might as well be, because the moment the dragon vaults up from the gorge, its cruel eyes trained on our group, my whip lashes at it.
The first blow lands on the dragon’s tail, not enough to bother the beast. But the second strike, aimed at its face, alongside a fiery gale from the twins, provokes another enraged roar.
Another blast of scales in our direction.
Taron leaps in front of us, his elbow hooked through the air. He deflects the molten scales with an invisible shield, setting off a cascade of sparks. I can see the force of the impact ripple through his body. His forearms are straining, his muscles taut beneath the pressure.
It’s working – we’re distracting the dragon. I don’t hesitate. I lengthen my whip even further. The tip shudders and then splits, fracturing into five jagged strands. They shoot outward in unison, each strand lashing the dragon from a different angle.
“Nice,” Taron heaves beside me. But before his praise can fully register, he cries out in warning, “Watch out!”
His strong grip yanks me aside, pulling me out of harm’s way just as Mei hurtles past us, propelled by the force of an opposing competitor.
I breathe, pressed against Taron, his heartbeat reverberating in my chest like it’s my own. His breath comes in quick, shallow bursts.
“Think we should start a tally of the number of times I’ve saved you,” he says.
“Not that it’s gone to your head,” is all I’m able to manage.
Taron lets go of me, and I realize the dragon’s attention has shifted to Mei. Its fierce gaze locks on to her form on the ground. Slumped and vulnerable.
I want to warn her, but Taron moves quickly. He positions himself between Mei and the dragon to repel the incoming scales.
“Thanks,” Mei says, scrambling to her feet and without missing a beat, producing a seed from her pocket. She rubs it between her hands and breathes on it. Then she throws it in the air, causing it to instantly grow into a carnivorous snapper fern that pounces on her red team assailant.
I arch a brow when Taron returns to my side.
“What’s so funny?” he demands.
“Saving Mei? I thought you said you didn’t believe in teams.”
“I don’t. I believe in strength in numbers.”
Savannah moves in the corner of my eye, whirling her arm to summon the sand from every corner of the clearing. She moulds it into a long whip, not unlike my own, that spirals around the dragon’s limbs. Pulling her hands into her chest, the sandy whip tightens, pulling the dragon down.
“Wren, help me out over here!” she shouts in Taron’s direction. “You’re a Luna, aren’t you?”
He drops to one knee, hands outstretched, channelling his talents to assist her in pinning the colossal creature to the ground.
The dragon resists, managing to swing its tail at Savannah. Before it can catch her, a light blade cuts through the scaly appendage like softened butter. Cyrus. He’s crouched in front of her, and I’m aghast. He saved her. Maybe he’s not as iron-hearted as I thought.
The severed tail falls, shattering into a thousand molten shards when it hits the ground. Savannah sends up a shield to protect her and Cyrus from the eruption.
“Someone, do something,” Taron groans. He’s struggling to pin the wounded dragon to the ground with his talents alone. The strain becomes evident as blood trickles from his nose.
Mei digs into her utility belt. She removes a handful of seeds, rubs them in her palms and throws them at the dragon. The seeds erupt into vines. They twist, lengthen and interweave before landing on the dragon like a net. The vines burrow deep into the ground, keeping the dragon pinned.
“Now, run!” she shouts. “It won’t hold it for long!”
Our group sprints for the bridge.
Gigi and Gunther are in the lead, followed by Kara, Savannah, Mei and Rhius. Cyrus thrusts Gideon ahead of him, and Taron is slow, stumbling, so I use my entire weight to pull him along. His jaw is clenched, his muscles tensing as dark veins claw across his neck.
The bridge swings from side to side, nearly throwing me off my feet. The sound of creaking wood follows us across the gorge.
I glance down at the yawning chasm, my heart racing. Vines snap behind us, and a whoosh of air against our backs tells me the dragon has taken flight.
An ominous shadow gathers overhead, stalking us across the bridge. The shadow whips its stump of a tail at us, and the air whistles with incoming scales.
Taron throws his hand up, but his reaction is sluggish.
It’s not a strong barrage – more blood than scales – but one somehow manages to infiltrate his invisible barrier.
Pain lances in between my shoulder blades.
Then a crack rings out, and my stomach drops.
The board beneath my foot splinters, shifting from solid ground to air in less than a second.
My foot plunges through the gap, the jagged edges grating against my thigh as I’m swallowed up to my waist. I flail for balance, clinging to the board in front of me.
Taron reaches for me, but he’s still too slow. I can’t hang on much longer, and my fingers are loosening their grip when out of nowhere, a warm hand wraps around my forearm and hauls me back to safety. Cyrus pulls me against him as we run.
“I told you we’d make a great team,” he says with a cunning grin, puffing a strand of champagne-blond hair from his forehead.
Taron growls behind us, his expression taut. I don’t have time to deal with either of them.
Just as our group reaches the other side of the gorge, the dragon disappears behind a smattering of clouds. I put my hands on my knees, shaking, nearly screaming, when there’s a sudden pulse of red-hot flames in the corner of my eye.
But it’s not the dragon diving down to attack us.
Gigi and Gunther are igniting the bridge. The remaining members of the red team are trying to follow us across. The reds continue to struggle over the bridge as the flames begin to lick at the boards.
“What are you doing?” Kara shouts, and for a moment I think she wants to stop them, to show mercy. But no. “There’s a better way to do this.”
She extends her hand to the sun, conjuring a long, sizzling blade of light. She takes a swing at the bridge, and the remaining ropes holding it together snap.
The bridge plummets, and the reds disappear into the abyss. Their falling forms are closely followed by an enormous amalgamation of molten scales and razor teeth.
I can’t watch as the dragon widens its jaw to scoop them up. I don’t want to listen to the crunch of bones that shortly follows. My stomach churns, the taste of bile mixing with the acrid smoke.
“The arch, come on,” Taron says in my ear, weakly gathering me by the shoulders and spinning me away from the chasm, haunted by the red team’s dying screams.
I stumble, my pulse ricocheting as we rush towards the arch.
It’s a breathtaking thing, sculpted from stone, engraved with the image of four bodies engaged in a dance, a symbolic representation of the harmony between the sun and three moons.
At its pinnacle, a carving of a crystal amulet set within a crown.
The ultimate prize at the end of all this suffering.
The dragon’s roars fade into the distance as we pass through the arch into the jungle, leaving only the echo of our frantic breaths and rustling feet.
My pulse slows, adrenaline waning, and, for a brief instant, I let myself hope. We survived the second trial. There are only five teams left now. Five obstacles between us and victory.
See you soon, Elara.
Elara, Elara, Elara…
Her name forms silently on my lips, over and over, until the syllables drown out the screams of the red team echoing in my mind. Each repetition sends a pulse of strength through me, filling the cracks where fear has taken root.
We can do this, I think. We’re so close to the end now. Just a little longer.
But the bloodshed … the heartlessness … I can feel it in every breath, every step through this cursed jungle. It’s horrifying. It’s monstrous.
It’s necessary.
I look at Taron beside me. I know he’d tell me each of these competitors chose to be here. That they’re arrogant, entitled killers at heart – undeserving of our empathy.
But what if I’m more like them than I want to admit? I’m here, aren’t I? I watched in silence as Gigi and Gunther set that bridge on fire. I stood back and did nothing when Kara dealt the final blow to the ropes. We’re all killers here, in one way or another.
I just need to remember: unlike everyone else, I’m not here for myself. I’m here for her. The one person in my life who means everything.
The faces of the dead blur in my mind, replaced by Elara’s smiling face.
See you soon, Elara.
The vow burns in my chest. It’s a fire, fierce and desperate, pushing back the fear and revulsion. I’m here for her, and nothing else matters.
See you soon, Elara.