Chapter 46
Chapter Forty-Six
The attack comes out of nowhere. One moment, we’re laughing at one of Abel’s stupid jokes as we skim over the treetops just outside campus with the arena in sight. The next, three alicorns burst from the trees carrying Elijah, Mark, and Milton on their backs. Elijah sits atop his dark mount and nocks an arrow.
Nick screams. “Evade!” The command alerts our flight unit of an impending enemy attack and instructs us to take any measure necessary to avoid a direct hit.
I steer Zephyr into a steep dive between two tall trees, my adrenaline pumping. Elijah is hard on our tail. Straightening out, we zigzag through the forest. There’s not much room to work with, but flying in a straight line is just asking to get hit. Wind slaps my cheeks, and despite the fact that I loathe the idea of Elijah winning by marking us with dye with every fiber in my body, exhilaration tingles my skin. Hard to believe after my rocky start, but I love flying. The freedom, the thrill. All of it.
A sudden stinging pain in my back makes me gasp. At first, I think Elijah hit me, but no. This stinging pain runs beside both shoulder blades.
The temporary distraction gives Elijah his chance. Only instinct and a faint whooshing help me avoid the arrow. I yank Zephyr into a sharp turn, banking left and diving at the same time. I glance over my shoulder and watch the arrow embed itself in a tree trunk.
Ice crawls across my skin. The arrow embedded when it should have struck and fallen to the ground. That’s no blunted, trial-issued weapon.
The fucker is cheating and using real arrows.
Closer to the ground, the foliage becomes denser. Zephyr’s wings clip the branches, jerking me in the saddle.
A fiery burn explodes along my left bicep. One glance confirms that an arrow sticks out of my sleeve. It’s lodged in my arm, but I don’t think it’s very deep. More of a graze considering the arrowhead feels like it’s hanging on by the skin of its teeth. Bracing myself, I take a risk and yank it out. My arm hurts like hells but I don’t feel my muscle tear, thank goodness.
Okay. Now I’m pissed.
From somewhere up above, I hear a pained cry. My stomach plummets. Olive.
Nick yells. “Return to formation!”
I keep zigzagging to avoid another hit, giving Zephyr his head now that he knows what I want and ducking my own to avoid branches. I know Nick’s command means regroup as soon as possible, but I won’t lead Elijah up so he can attack another member of my team. My mind races as I consider and discard options. I could hit Elijah with fire, but I don’t have eyes in the back of my head, and that could get out of hand. As much as I hate him, I’m not quite ready to char him to a crisp.
My arrows are useless. Unlike him, I played by the rules.
That leaves only one possibility. Something I’ve never tried and don’t even know for sure I can do.
Zephyr and I make a hard right just as something whizzes past my left ear. I catch a glimpse of a small silver object disappearing into the forest. My pulse quickens. That scum-sucking cheat has throwing stars too.
Without giving myself a chance to second-guess what I’m about to attempt, I open my mind and reach out with my consciousness. Zephyr’s familiar presence hits me first. The impact forces the air from my chest. Maybe the connection is much stronger because this is the first time I’ve ever fully embraced my dragoncaller ability. Zephyr’s emotions flood me. Thrill over flying. Anxiety over my safety. Desire to return to the open sky.
I let him know how proud I am to be riding him, then let him take complete control as I reach for the second closest presence.
A branch scrapes my injured arm, making me gasp, but I grab hold of the mental connection. Elijah’s alicorn’s mind harbors more darkness than Zephyr’s, and like his owner, he’s full of aggression. Fear lurks behind that, along with pain, prompting my concern that Elijah mistreats him.
As much as I loathe the thought, I can’t worry about that now. Instead, I focus on grabbing hold of the alicorn’s mind and forcing my command inside.
He fights me. Hard. Much Harder than I anticipated. Our mental battle spears my skull with sharp pain, but I keep pushing. The sensation reminds me of banging on a locked wooden gate. Though the structure yields a little with every attempt, the barrier holds strong.
I clench my teeth and continue the invisible attack. Sooner or later, one of us must admit defeat, and I’ll be cursed if I bend the knee to a godsdamned alicorn.
Knives join the spearing party in my head. My stomach threatens to revolt. Only pure stubbornness keeps me pressing until, with a silent pop, the alicorn’s resistance vanishes. Without any obstruction, swooping in and seizing control is as easy as cake.
A moment later, Elijah curses. “No! What are you doing, you stupid ass beast? Stop!”
The alicorn’s pain reaches me, and a pit opens in my stomach. I hate that Elijah is hurting him because of me.
I tug on the reins to slow Zephyr and check behind me. Elijah yanks on his mount’s mane, kicking and cursing, but the alicorn refuses to budge from where he stands on the ground. Elijah shouts for the rest of his flight unit to come help him.
My hands shake as Zephyr and I fly up to rejoin my team. I have no idea how long the effects will last, so we need to get out of here quickly. I’m shocked it worked. Relieved, but also sickened. What I did leaves an oily, icky residue inside me.
When Zephyr and I free ourselves from the trees, the rest of my team is waiting.
“What took you so long?” Nick grumbles.
“Elijah came after me with live weapons. I had to disable him first.”
Abel shoots a concerned glance at Olive. “Yeah, Mark too. He got Olive on the leg with a dagger.”
“It’s only a graze. I’m fine.”
I check for myself, releasing a relieved breath when I don’t spot any perfuse bleeding. “Let’s get out here before they regroup.”
We resume formation and fly the short distance to the arena. Other teams linger outside the entrance. I note Helene has joined them and wonder how that happened, but I’m distracted by what’s happening in front of me. “Why are we waiting here?”
Theo answers. “Torno told us to. Not sure what’s happening in there, but I’m thinking we’re not done with the trial yet.”
My nerves shriek louder the longer we wait. Before long, Elijah, Mark, and Milton arrive. Though less of a threat now with a crowd surrounding us, we keep a safe distance between us and their rule-breaking, battle-sharp weapons.
Finally, the arena doors open, revealing eight tall, thick stone columns inside.
Bigley appears in front of us, his typically stoic expression absent. His pinched brow and forehead creases signal worry. “Inside, you’ll face a series of challenges to get to the finish line. You must face each of the eight pillars before your trial concludes. Flying is required. Your alicorns may not land.”
Once he steps aside, alicorns and their riders surge forward on a flurry of wings.
My team takes up the rear, where we watch as the quickest two units to enter approach the nearest pillar. Countless fist-sized rocks burst from sudden openings in the obelisk, one striking a blond fledgling’s knee. A crack sounds. Her shriek cuts through the air. The male fledgling fighting against her banks his tan alicorn right, left, up, then down to avoid the hurtling stones, some of which graze his long brown hair…though none touch his alicorn or the fair-haired girl’s gray one.
The earth magic’s hunting humans, not their beasts. Once the assault ends, the male fledgling raises his sword. With the blunted tip pointed at the woman—who flies well below him—he dive-bombs toward her.
Her earth magic shakes the ground beneath the first column. With a loud groan, it tilts toward the male fledgling, threatening to crush him beneath its weight as it falls. At the last moment, he dodges the column, which springs back to its original position as if the previous seconds never happened.
I break out in a cold sweat.
This is going to be a nightmare.
Metallic clangs fill the arena as more flight units engage with the challenges. The throwing stars strike the second column, their metal creating sparks on the stone. Fire erupts from those areas and rolls forward, melting the female fledgling’s blade, the molten mess falling on her thigh.
Skin sizzles. An agonized wail rings out. Smoke infused with the stench of charred human flesh curls from her wound while I breathe through my nose and do my best not to puke. Other fledglings standing too close to the fire shout and slap the flames from their tunics and pants.
Nick’s voice is grim. “Keep your senses sharp and stick close together. Follow me.”
We follow him toward a pillar. Mist begins to pour into the arena, the moisture thickening in spots and hindering visibility. A scream rings out from the densest area. Metal clangs. Red soon tinges the edges of the vapor. Blood.
A throwing star cuts through the mist and lands close to the stands. Several in the crowd yelp and skitter back.
My throat tightens, and I struggle to swallow.
The patter of rain draws my attention. My mind immediately assumes Thorne, but the source comes from a pillar to my left. Beneath the shower, Mark Levine has cornered an alicorn and rider from another team. “Give me your box.”
“No.” The rider attempts to fly around him. The blur of something whizzing through the air leads to a scream. The dagger rams into the fledgling’s right eye clear through to the back of his skull. His mouth falls open, his good eye blinking as confusion colors his gaze.
“This isn’t real.” The wounded noise Olive makes is echoed by my soul. “Oh gods, it’s not supposed to be real .”
It is now. I wait for someone—anyone—to call the trial and remove Mark for violating the rules, but no one does. I glance up and find the king watching. He sees what’s happening, and yet allows these horrors to continue.
Bastard. Him and every last one of the Flighthaven staff who do nothing to stop this.
The fledgling slumps over his alicorn, slides from the saddle, and plummets to the ground, his bones cracking…his blood gushing.
My heart hurts. I can’t breathe.
Olive reaches over to me and squeezes my fingers. Flapping noises call my attention overhead.
Torno flies an orange dragon toward the stands. The beast perches on the stone awning above Xenon’s thronelike seat, saliva dripping from its open jaw and serpent’s tongue.
Rage, fear, and sorrow bombard me—eliciting a flinch and a shiver—each emotion bursting from the dragon’s thoughts and tearing at my mind. My heart quickens, and my throat clenches, the beast’s proximity allowing the assault.
As nausea overwhelms me, the arena I’m in disappears.