Fifty One
Alara
We’re escorted through the tunnels to the Enclave, misery shrouding us like a cloak. But there’s an undercurrent of fierceness that could only be the Dragorie. Ready for whatever is to come, prepared to give it their all.
I walk with Tofa on one side, Beau on the other.
Kaldar, Calian, Dorkin, and Adora walk ahead, and finally, Rohan at the front.
The rest of the clan is behind me, every single one of them, including the wounded, the elderly and Melle. None allowed to be left behind as guards bring up the rear, weapons ready for any resistance.
The clans were separated into their own tunnels, and I can only imagine what they’re feeling, too.
We come to a stop at the gate that will lead us into the Enclave.
A drum begins to bang in a foreboding rhythm, cheers and whistles coming from the stands. I look through the gaps of the gate, the Enclave seems to be fuller than I’ve ever seen it before.
“People of Dracozar, the final game is here!” King Halen announces.
They scream, their excitement sickening.
“Clan Firehorn, enter!” he shouts, and across from us, a gate opens. Karag steps through, mask in place as his clan follows him.
Rohan turns to us. “Blackscale!” he shouts, mask at his hip.
“Dragonbond,” everyone replies.
“We stay together, as much as possible. Protect each other, the elderly, the wounded, the young ones.”
“Yes, Dragonbond.”
“For many… or all of us, this may be our last fight,” he says while my heart pounds. “It’s been an honor being your leader.”
My eyes water, but I clench my jaw.
I can feel his love for his clan, his admiration and fear for them.
The clan says nothing, some sniffling.
“The honor has been ours, brother,” Kaldar says, his voice like gravel, and the clan agrees.
Rohan clears his throat. “We fight until we can’t.”
“Yes, Dragonbond!”
“May Morana guide us all.”
“May Morana guide us,” they chant, and goosebumps pepper my skin.
“Clan Highwing!” Halen announces next.
I watch Rohan roll his shoulders, and adjust his axe on his back. My hair wrapped around the handle shines in the light, and I unconsciously stroke his own on my wrist.
Then his eyes meet mine and I’m captivated by the ring of purple.
So many unspoken words bridge between us, so many thoughts and feelings and yet, both of us seem unable to voice it aloud.
“Clan Rivertail!”
“You run to me,” he says, and I’m taken back to that time in the Wilds when he was training me.
“While they’re distracted, you get up and run.”
“Where do I run?” I’d asked him back then.
“You run to me.”
I nod, my throat tightening.
I want to say something, too. I want to tell him I love him, thank him for freeing me when he didn’t have to. For breathing life back into me, but the words just won’t come, like some part of me wants to save them with the hope that we survive this and I’ll get to tell him after.
He nods like he understands, gaze roaming over my face like he’s memorizing it before he places a hand on his heart. Then he dons his mask and turns, becoming the Dragonbond we all know.
“Clan Greenclaw!”
I inhale a shaky breath as Tofa squeezes my hand. I look at her, but her eyes are on Calian’s. I turn to Beau who nods at me, jaw tight.
We don’t know what the Holmgang means, but it’s usually fighting.
And I can’t fight, the elderly cannot, nor the children.
I touch the dagger hidden at my hip.
I’ll try my best to protect them.
“Clan Blackscale!”
Our gate opens, the drums seeming louder now, more frantic and Rohan takes the first step onto the sand.
We follow him.
I look up into the stands, seeing their smiles, and I squeeze Tofa’s hand tightly.
My gaze flits around, stopping briefly on Emerish taking bets, not wanting to give him anything of me before my eyes go to the royal section.
The king is up there this time with his family, it’s the first time he has been in that section during The Games. and I briefly wonder why, but then I catch sight of my sister.
She nods her head, though it looks a little wobbly which is odd for her.
Will she see me be killed? Will I even get a chance to know her?
The plan has to work. We just need to hold on.
We stop when Rohan does, waiting for our instructions.
“Welcome, Dragorie to the final game, Holmgang!” the king announces, arms wide. “Shall we begin?”
The crowd roars and I notice the tension lining Rohan’s back, the way his fingers twitch.
Nerves run through me as I look at the other clans.
We’re all in our own corner, a colored flag behind us representing who we are.
The center is an open area, the sand looking dry.
Blood will soon water it.
My hands tremble as I clasp them in front of me, wondering how the dragons are doing.
I can’t help feeling like something will go wrong, that they’ll be caught before they have a chance to break out.
“First up, more justice needs to be served in the Enclave!” the king announces, and my stomach rolls.
A moment later, a gate rises, and a line of people are brought in. Chained together by hands and ankles.
“Oh no,” Tofa says, and I nod.
This won’t be good.
“The crimes never stop, and they’ve been found to be guilty! Thieves, murderers, but most importantly, traitors to your king!”
They’re led to the center of the Enclave, and I eye the other gates, wondering what will come out and tear them apart. Then an arrow comes from above, and hits a woman straight in the center of her forehead.
The prisoners freeze in shock, eyes wide as the woman drops to the ground, and then they all shout, trying to scramble away, but with them being attached to each other and fear driving them, they all pull in different directions, falling over themselves.
Another arrow lands in the heart of a man, and I turn to the royal section.
Niyah is standing on the half wall, bow in hand. Her long hair is braided down her back, flowing in the breeze as she fires arrow after arrow, never once missing.
“Niyah,” I murmur, seeing the hard look upon her face while her stepmother stands just at her back, her smile wide.
The king grins, clapping when an arrow lands in the eyeball of another. The crowd shouts at that, jumping up and down as the last one tries to pull the bodies with the chain… but he isn’t strong enough.
“One more, one more,” the crowd chants, and Niyah pulls another arrow from her quiver.
She holds the bow at arm’s length, shoulder high, then pulls back her arm until the string is to her cheek before letting the arrow loose.
I don’t look at it killing the man. My eyes remain on my sister as she drops down from the half wall, her stepmother saying something to her before she sits back down, her shoulders stiff.
“Now, to start the final game!” King Halen shouts. “The rules are simple with Holmgang. Kill, or be killed.”
Various clangs sound behind us, and we turn, watching guards deposit all types of weapons in front of our gate before it closes.
“Begin!” the king shouts, and no one moves.
Wait, we are all in this game? Just like that?
The crowd goes wild, shouting and pointing while my heart hammers in my ears.
“Grab a weapon!” Rohan shouts, taking his axe from his back, and then we move.
We all move.
We rush to the weapons, much like the other clans, picking up anything they can.
Tofa holds my hand, pulling me along while Rohan walks backward, keeping an eye on the others.
The clan hands out weapons. Axes, spears, swords.
“Keep the injured, elderly and children to the back,” Kaldar shouts.
Agnis and the other elderly stand with their back to the gate. Nora, axe in hand, holds Melle close as an axe is put in my own hand.
Adora gives Olaf a spear, and with one last look, she turns with the rest of Rohan’s council and forms a line behind Rohan.
“Keep close,” Tofa says, as the council of all clans it seems, moves forward with the Dragonbonds, waiting for who is to strike first.
Bellamy and several others stand ahead of us with Beau, and we all just… wait.
“Now… this won’t do,” the king shouts. “Why aren’t we fighting?”
The clans remain silent.
“Seems we need some incentive, then.”
I squeeze Tofa’s hand, my grip tightening on the axe.
I look around, wondering what’s going to happen next, when Melle screams.
It’s blood-curdling.
We turn, as those at the back shout, scrambling away from the gate where… with her back to it is Agnis, sword piercing through her chest.
No.
“For Morana,” she croaks out, and then the sword is pulled back and she falls to the sands.
“You either fight or more will follow!” the king bellows, and with no other choice, the clans clash.
The Enclave is painted red.
The Dragonbonds lead the way in fighting, their council following, and it’s a massacre.
Bodies already litter the floor, losses on all sides and I stay a little ahead of the vulnerable behind us.
Beau is fighting with a Firehorn in front of us that must have slipped through, many of the clans mingling with others and it’s … chaos.
And the crowd loves it.
I spot Rohan in the distance with his council, axe gliding through the air and colliding with Karag’s, while Sigrid is fighting with a Rivertail.
I scramble with Tofa as Beau and the Firehorn get closer, and we guide the vulnerable to move away, always keeping them at our backs and away from the tunnel gates.
We’ve ended up where clan Highwing started, maneuvering over bodies. I can’t look at them long enough to see who they are.
Beau comes closer still, and then all of a sudden, two break off from the fighting in front of him and head our way.
“Stay back,” Tofa shouts, and she heads for a male, swinging her sword as a woman comes for me.
I lift my shaking hand, hearing Melle’s cries behind me as sweat beads the back of my neck.
The woman, Firehorn, swings at me, and I duck, scrambling out of the way. She comes at me again, and I barely block her next attack, the impact sending vibrations up my arm.
“Stupid little elf,” she spits, lifting to swing again and I block, but it costs me, and I lose grip on the axe.
“Alara!” Tofa shouts, still fighting with the man.
The woman smiles down at me, readying to swing again when I move forward and press my hands to her chest, pushing as hard as I can.
She stumbles back, not expecting it and I rush for my weapon, knowing I’ll only have a second to grab it before she kills me.
“You little—” her words are cut off, and I turn, seeing a spear entering her neck.
I follow the weapon down to Olaf, his chest heaving as he pulls it out and the woman drops to the floor.
“That was close,” he pants, wavering on his feet and I rush to him, helping him steady.
“Thank you,” I breathe, walking him back over to the others as Tofa slices her sword through the stomach of the male.
“Don’t mention it,” he pants.
Melle is shaking in her mother’s arms when we reach them, Nora holding her tightly with Bellamy staying protectively at their side.
“Here,” Fiona says, wrapping an arm around Olaf and helping him stand.
I wipe my hair out of my face with trembling hands. I turn, watching the fight and keep moving with them. My eyes go to Beau who’s walking back over.
“We need to keep moving to the side—”
“Beau?”
His eyes widen, and then his hand seems to go behind him at his side, and then he’s holding a bloody dagger in his hand.
He looks back at me, then his eyes roll before he collapses to the ground.
“Beau!” Tofa and I shout, rushing to him.
“No, no, no,” I mutter, rolling him and finding blood seeping out of his back. “What do we do?” I ask Tofa as Bellamy rushes over, guarding us.
The crowd cheers at the blood, the clang of metal and cries piercing my heart as I rip part of my tunic off.
“Press it here, hard,” Tofa says, and she lifts Beau’s own tunic, sucking in a deep breath at how much blood he’s losing.
“Tofa,” I whimper.
“Quickly,” she says, and I press the fabric to the wound, her shaking hands helping me.
“Come on Beau,” I say, looking at his pale face. “Wake up.”
“You need to listen to her, Beau,” Tofa says, her voice shaking. “I’m not shoveling horse shit without you when we get back home, you know?”
Tears drip from my eyes as I nod. “And y-you still need to teach me which horses like apples because I can’t re-remember them all,” I choke out.
“Se-Serah likes them the…the best,” he croaks, and I let out a watery laugh.
“She does,” I say, and Tofa looks around us. “I always give her extra.”
He smiles weakly, coughing.
Blood seeps through mine and Tofa’s hands as the fighting continues.
“Bellamy, move them on,” Tofa says, and Bellamy nods, escorting the vulnerable further past us to safety.
The fighting is getting closer to us, more people dying, and just when I think it can’t get any worse, the king speaks.
“The Holmgang is going well, right?!” He shouts as I try to keep it together. “But, there seems to be more traitors among us, a treasonous game within a game, so, we need to make the game fairer, right?”
“What does he mean?” I ask Tofa, my heart in my throat.
“I don’t know,” she mutters, looking around as the clans stop their fighting, wondering the same thing.
Then the king throws a hand out, and not a moment later, cages appear.
A gasp comes from me before I can stop it as dragons are brought into the arena, all of them.
“No…” I murmur. “No he can’t.”
The dragons all roar, banging against the cages, going wild.
“Why…” Tofa begins, her head shaking.
My eyes go to Rohan, to the other Dragonbonds who all look like they are ready to explode, yet only one doesn’t look surprised.
Karag.
His mask is off, blood splashed across his face but I can see the grin from here.
Rohan growls, a terrifying sound as Drogonah roars in his cage, the sand vibrating beneath our feet.
“What is the meaning of this?!” Rohan shouts, fist clenching, blood dripping.
“Leave our dragons out of this,” Sigrid growls, Varan and Durruk breathing heavily near them, all of them bloodied in some way.
“This,” King Halen says smugly, “Is what it looks like when you plan to try and have me killed.”
I freeze, Rohan freezes. Sigrid, Varan, Durruk, the clans…
He couldn’t know… could he?
“Oh no…” Tofa murmurs.
Rohan turns to Karag when he begins to walk backward, the other Dragonbonds tracking him. The rest of the clans are still frozen in shock.
Rohan points his axe at Karag. “What did you do?”
Karag doesn’t answer, but the king’s next words chill me to the bone.
“Now,” the king addresses the Enclave. “The real game begins.”