Nine
Rohan
“Five games, five clans. Some will live, some will die, but most importantly, who will survive?” an announcer says, getting the crowd of people rowdy.
My body fills with anger when I spot a lord weaving through the people as bets are placed. Coin is thrown in the bucket he holds, while a woman behind him is writing down names and amounts.
“And they say we are the barbarians,” Calian remarks at my left, scowling in their direction.
“They’re worse than us,” Kaldar remarks from my other side.
“I know.”
I adjust my mask then fold my arms, watching the other clans as he drones on. We’re in the Enclave, awaiting our fate. The king sits in the royal section, the perfect spot to watch us bleed.
We’re spread out at five points, the center remains open and ready for the game, Climb of the Clans.
The tension in the air is already high between Dragonbonds after our last conversation, and though the clans have co-existed to a degree for a long time, in here, we’re openly enemies, pitted against each other to reach first place.
My eyes go to the blackboard where our life and death is written upon it.
I will burn it. I will burn it all.
My eyes move to the royal section above.
Halen speaks to Ivor, and his children sit to the side, looking down their noses at us.
We haven’t spoken much, though Alexandar always comes to the den at some point, walking around and checking on us on behalf of the king. He sometimes comes up to try and speak with me, but I don’t think either of us are interested in any type of brotherly relationship.
I glance toward the guard arriving in that section. It’s Declan, and my heart rate kicks up. I glance behind him, looking for Alara, but when he goes to the king and whispers in his ear, I realize he’s alone.
My concern heightens.
I hope she’s just back in the cell. Alone, because if she isn’t, where the fuck is she?
Halen walks to the half-wall, waving his hand. Cheers erupt through the stands, and everyone that was standing quickly take their seats.
“Are we ready for the first game?” Halen shouts.
“Now, the rules are simple for Climb of the Clans. You will climb and retrieve your clan member from atop the cliff that will be made in the Enclave. The first clan to bring their members back down, wins.” I freeze and grind my teeth.
This fucker stole one of our clan members?
“Remember, Dragorie, be first down and only one will die, be last and you will lose five.”
The crowd cheers and I tense. I feel my clan do the same at my back.
“Dragonbonds.” The king waves a hand and we all step forward, meeting in the middle.
“The start of The Games,” Karag says.
“Meaning another fail,” Varan replies.
“With more deaths along the way,” Durruk sighs.
“But may the king die today,” Sigrid snarls.
“And may we be the ones to kill him,” I growl, repeating the saying we’ve said for many years now, eyeing the king for any chance we can reach him before his guards attack us with Nighturn.
And once again, we will never reach him. Not yet.
“You are allowed one dragon that is not your bonded, so choose,” he bellows.
“Fuck,” Sigrid snarls.
We stay silent, refusing, and the king’s face turns red with embarrassment. “Very well.”
There’s a pause, and then a chorus of roars echo. We turn to the sound of pain, all reaching for our weapons.
Where the fuck is it coming from?
I look at the two gates in that direction.
“Does he have one in the tunnels?” Varan asks.
“He must have.”
“Choose,” Halen demands, and I grit my teeth.
“This motherfucker,” Durruk growls.
“He knows what he’s doing,” Sigrid says quietly. “Don’t let him see you sweat.”
“How can we choose?” Varan mutters, looking behind him like he can see through to the den, to our dragons.
“It’s a death sentence,” Karag snarls.
“Maybe not,” I say, and they all look at me. “We have to do anything to survive, but let’s leave the dragons out of it, yes?”
“You are suggesting that while fighting between us is inevitable, we don’t hurt the dragons.”
“Yes,” I reply as the king waves a hand again, and we all tense once more at the dragons roaring in pain. “Only if we all stick to it. If any of you send one of your dragons to hurt mine, this deal is null, understand?”
“We may agree to this, but you know that doesn’t guarantee their survival,” Sigrid says.
“I know.”
“The king is always playing tricks,” scoffs Varan, and we nod.
More roars of pain.
“Quickly, agree,” I demand.
“Agreed.” Sigrid.
“Of course.” Varan.
“Yes.” Durruk.
“I agree.” Karag.
“Choose,” Halen demands again, and I grit my teeth.
“Hakkon,” I say. The green dragon is small, making visibility harder if the game lasts until nightfall, and if so, his light will help us.
“Dova,” Sigrid says.
Karag’s next. “Kaizon.”
“Fuck,” Durruk mutters. “Olen.”
Varan. “Asta.”
“Good, those dragons will be prepared!”
“Now for who is to come with you, you can bring four others.”
Bastard.
I think about the cliff, the climb it will probably be. Who is the least likely to die.
“Adora, Kaldar, Emmy, and Leon,” I call each member, knowing they have the best chance of survival.
The others select their members as the crowd continues to cheer.
“Head back to the tunnels and wait inside while we prepare your game! People of Dracozar!” The crowd cheers. “Don’t forget to place your bets!”
Guards come forward, and we’re escorted to our respective tunnel to wait for the game to start.
“Who do we think it is that they’ve taken?” Adora asks as she reaches my side.
“I don’t know, but we need to get them.”
“I don’t recognize the dragon that they’re hurting,” Calian says.
“Neither do I, and the other Dragonbonds didn’t seem to either.”
“That means there’s another dragon here,” Dorkin says, as I rest against the wall, the gate closing us in the tunnel.
My clan shuffles along before sitting down and waiting.
I don’t know if they’ll be watching or if they’ll be allowed back to the pens. Only time will tell.
“Hakkon will do well,” Kaldar says, and I glance at him, nodding.
Hakkon is his favorite dragon, though he doesn’t say it outright.
“He will. I’ll look after him,” I assure him.
“I know you will.” I look to the clan. “Calian, can you grab Leon and Emmy?”
“Sure.” He sounds distracted and I turn, noticing he’s looking off to the side.
Tofa is there, walking slowly with Beau next to her, but the sadness in her eyes as they meet his is clear to see.
“Go to her,” I tell him, but he shakes his head.
“I can’t right now.”
I stop him with a hand on his shoulder, pulling him away from the others.
“You know that any day could be our last.” He nods. “Then what the fuck are you doing?”
His brows furrow.
“Calian.” I tighten my grip on him. “Don’t die with regret. Tofa… she’s good for you, and you know it.”
“That’s the problem.” His mouth pulls down, the scar there looking more mangled and he sighs. “I’ll think about it.”
I nod, and I let him go when Tofa walks over to us.
“Do we know where Alara is?” she asks, and I shake my head.
Her shoulders slump. “I’m worried.”
“Short Stack will be fine, she’s strong,” Calian assures her.
Tofa looks up at him, her eyes bouncing between his. “Just because she’s strong doesn’t mean she can’t get hurt.”
With that, she walks off, head down, and I feel Calian deflate beside me.
“Shit.”
“Yeah,” I reply.
The mood is sullen after that as we all sit and wait, then twelve guards approach us.
“The king has asked you to be escorted back to your dwelling while they wait for your game to begin.”
My brows furrow as I walk over to him, and they all tense, hands on swords.
“Fine,” I utter, wondering why we didn’t just go back in the first place.
They separate themselves as I head back, my clan at my back, Emmy and Leon catching up to me.
“Ready?” I ask them, and they nod, glancing at each other.
“We will do our best, Dragonbond,” Emmy says.
“Damn right,” Leon says.
They’re the best climbers I know, it’s why I chose them, but they know that even as skilled climbers, they could still die.
My mood sours further, jaw ticking.
I chose them, and they could die for it.
“I’ll look after you,” I tell them, and they nod, giving small smiles as Emmy wraps her arm around Leon’s, knowing it could be their last.
I look away.
They aren’t lovers as far as I know, but they’ve been friends since they could walk, and walking turned to climbing. Challenging each other to tougher climbs and ending up with broken bones.
Still, they climb trees, the mountainside, the dragon’s den in the Wilds, daily. It’s their favorite thing to do, and because of that skill, we have the best chance of all of us getting out alive.
“Rest up,” I tell them.
“We will,” Leon says, holding Emmy close as they taper off when we reach the den, the guards watching us exit the tunnel with sharp eyes.
I wait until all of my clan has exited and then I make my way over to our section and straight to the healer’s tent first. It’s the largest one here conveniently, and I move the flap aside with ease.
The stench of blood and rot hits my senses, but I push through with the weight of failure on my shoulders.
The floor is lined with furs, bandages and supplies haphazardly scattered around. Curtains hang around each bed, giving the illusion of privacy, knowing that showing weakness is not accepted amongst the Dragorie.
But that may need to change, thanks to my Little Whisperer.
I move further to the back, nodding at the three members in here with their curtains open, eyes filled with pain and I know that some won’t make it.
“It’s okay, Olaf,” I hear Adora say. She must have come straight here like me. “We can get through this.”
“Get through this?” Olaf asks, his tone incredulous. “I’ve lost half my arm. What good am I to anyone now?”
“You are still you!” Adora tells him, almost angrily. “You are still good for anything. I know I can’t possibly understand—”
“You couldn’t.”
“But I, we, still love you, Olaf. Don’t shut us out. Please.”
Silence.
“Kaldar and I are going into the game,” she tells him quietly.
More silence.
I pause at the threshold, looking directly at the curtain. When I hear her soft sobs and murmured words, I decide not to disturb them.
I leave the tent, reminding myself to come and see him later on when he’s alone.
Moving to my own tent, I enter, spotting the bed and wishing Alara was here with me.
I want nothing more than to curl around her, and protect her from all of this while her hand is in my beard, my nose buried in her hair.
I want to demand Halen tell me where she is, but I don’t want to draw any more attention to her if it’s not on her at the moment.
The tent flap suddenly rips open behind me, and my axe is in my hand within a moment, pointing at the intruder.
The Games we play here are deadly, but that isn’t the only danger. No. We also have to deal with the attempts on our lives because the unvocalized rule is; if you kill a Dragonbond, they automatically get removed from The Games, and they are allowed to leave.
Alive.
I snarl at the man who just stepped within my tent, lip curling.
“Is that any way to greet your brother?”
“Not my brother,” I growl at Alexandar. “What do you want?”
He walks around my tent, fingers trailing over the chest in here like I won’t decapitate him.
“I wanted to ask you a few things regarding that elf of yours.”
I bristle.
“Alara?” What the fuck does he want to know about her?
I step forward, fingers tightening on the handle of my axe, feeling her hair beneath my palm.
A blade is thrown in my direction, whizzing past my ear like lightning and sinking into the central pole.
“Stay your axe, Rohan, you may want to hear what I have to say.”
“How could I possibly want to know what you have to say to me?”
“Because it has to do with your elf.”