Six #2
The guards appear, picking up its chain and pulling him away as the drums finally cease, and King Halen stands.
His round belly bulges as he walks the stage a little, grand sword at his hip.
He wears a long, cream tunic, with decorative purple trim at the edges and a deeper purple cloak. Thick, with fur lining the hood.
The king raises a hand and the cheers become louder, and noise finally comes crashing back to me like thunder.
“People of Dracozar!” he shouts, and more cheers erupt.
“We may be a few days late to The Games, but there was much to prepare this time around that will be worth your wait.” He walks the platform, but I notice he stays away from the Dragonbonds.
I can feel their tension, their anger. “It’s that time of year again for The Games, but this one, may be the very last.” Boos erupt, and I bite the inside of my cheek.
“It will be all or nothing, with a very special guest, but for now, it’s time for the selection. ”
The crowd shouts, swinging their cloths in the air, as they clap and whistle.
A guard brings a bucket on stage, and the king stands off to the side, waving a hand dramatically at it.
“Clan Rivertail, you’re up first!”
The crowd cheers and boos as Varan steps forward, mask in place.
I look at the clans below, their faces tense, watching him.
Varan’s eyes go to his clan before he puts his hand in the bucket, pausing for a moment, body tensing. He pulls his hand back out, parchment in his grip, hand bleeding.
Why is he bleeding?
“We have our first game!” The king points to a guard out of the line up, and he walks to where Varan is.
Fear curls into the air around me.
When the guard is close, Varan grips his shoulder, fingers digging in. Other guards shuffle, arrows notched, but then Varan hands the guard the piece of parchment, patting his cheek roughly with a bloodied hand before shoving him away.
The guard walks over on shaky legs to the king, bowing his head before handing over the paper.
Halen looks down at it.
“The first game of this year is, Climb of Clans!” The crowd claps. “This game is where each clan has to get the required item and bring it back to the designated area. First clan back gets five points, last place gets one point.”
His hand waves behind him to the board.
“The tally board is split into sections across the top. The Games, clan names with color underneath. Then points, and deaths! We made sure to simplify the tally chart this year!”
More cheers.
A man climbs up the ladder, writing down what I assume is Varan’s selection.
“Highwing!” The king booms.
Sigrid’s next, and she walks swiftly to the bucket and puts her hand inside.
The same guard as before with a bloodied cheek comes over and Sigrid drops the paper to the ground, forcing him to pick it up as she moves back in place.
“The second is, Flight of Honor!” the king announces, and the crowd cheers. “Ah, Dragonbond Sigrid seems to be blessed with her chosen game of racing.”
The man writes it down on the board.
“Next!”
Durruk, clan Greenclaw chooses next.
“Blood of the Bonded!” The clans tense at that, but the people cheer.
“That is one of my personal favorites,” the king smirks. “Blackscale, you’re up.”
Rohan steps forward, shoulders straight, hands loosely at his sides, but I recognize the tension in his muscles, it’s exactly like that day in The Graveyard. Cold. Deadly.
He walks to the bucket, and I can tell his jaw is ticking from over here.
He shoves his hand in, not even flinching as a guard walks toward him. Rohan looks at him, then looks down at the paper.
When the guard goes to grab it, saying something, Rohan moves it aside and punches him in the face, his body dropping like a boulder.
The crowd gasps, but Rohan walks over to the king, arrows following him and he holds the bloodied paper out to him.
The king’s face turns a shade of red, lips peeling back into a snarl at the obvious challenge to collect it himself.
He doesn’t, he sends two guards with a wave of his hand.
I swallow, nerves settling in my stomach, wondering what Rohan will do. I look at him, the king, the guards and their Nighturn.
Just hand it over, Rohan.
The guards and Rohan have some sort of standoff, staring at each other, no one making a move, until eventually, Rohan scrunches the paper up and throws it in one of their faces before turning his back to them and stepping in line with the others.
“How barbaric the clans are,” the king bellows. “This is why we have The Games in place, this truce is for your safety!” The crowd cheers, yelling insults at the Dragonbonds and then clans in the lower level.
I spot Tofa near Calian, whose arm is around her, keeping her close with Beau by their side and the look of fear on her face scares me even more. She’s usually so strong.
Adora, Olaf and Kaldar are sticking to each other, and my heart beats painfully at seeing Nora holding a sobbing Melle to her chest.
She’s so little. She must be so scared.
I look within the other clans and see the same. Small children, some a little older. One even holds a small baby.
This is horrid.
“Now, settle down.” The king says, holding the paper up to read. “Clan Blackscale chose Spiked Descent!” The crowd cheers, and all the Dragonbonds tense. “Ah, we haven’t used this one. How exciting! Only the best for Dracozar!”
The crowd cheers and the man writes it on the board. It’s foreboding, and I fear I will hate looking at it.
“Now, next is clan Firehorn.” Karag walks to the bucket, and he doesn’t hesitate as he grabs a piece of paper, turning to pass it to a guard before walking back in line.
“Holmgang,” the king announces. “Perfect for the last Game!”
The final Game goes on the board, and I stare at it, filled with dread.
“Now, for one last surprise!” The king shouts, and he makes his way to center stage, guards forming a semi-circle around him.
“We have a very special guest with us. As you know, we have been at war with the Elven lands for years.” The crowd shouts angrily, and my heart skips a beat, sweat beading the back of my neck.
“We have tried to form a treaty, but as you know, we have failed. They do not care for peace, only bloodshed!” I swallow as people closest to the royal section turn and stare at me.
“However, this may be a new dawn as we now have one in our grasp.” His hand points to me, and I shrink back as everyone stares. “Bring the elf.”