The Time Tournament (Order of the Dragon #1)

CHAPTER 1

Elena

Present time

T he flames engulfed the piece of paper until it curled in on itself and turned into black ash. The wind then scattered the bits, making them one with the night. In a matter of seconds, something became nothing.

“Petra, why did you do it?” I lashed out at my sister.

“I wanted to see how it burns.”

“How did you find it?” I began searching through my pockets. I sighed in relief when I realized the golden chain was still there. I quickly untangled it and put it around my neck. Better safe than sorry.

“It was on the floor, so I threw it in the fire. It burns so prettily, don’t you think? Why? Did I do something wrong?” she asked innocently.

I froze. How could I tell her it was a page from the Glinting Book? It would disappoint her more than me. “No, it was just an old piece of paper. I don’t even know why I’ve

kept it all this time.” I knew bringing it was a bad idea, but I was hoping it would help me find some answers.

“Phew, I got worried there for a bit. Want to burn another one?”

“No,” I yelped, even though I knew there wasn’t another. The rest of the book was back in Spokane.

“How about we find some regular paper? It would be interesting to see if it’ll burn just as fast.”

She could say that again. It took less than a second for the flame to obliterate the paper and, along with it, the spell. Or whatever that was. Good thing I memorized it. Actually, I memorized most of them . The reason why I need a new hobby or something. This witchcraft obsession won’t end well.

“Girls, come dance with us,” Mom said, having lost track of how much she drank.

“It’s okay, Mom,” I said, “you and Dad have fun. We’ll stay here and warm up. It’s getting cold.”

“If you’re cold, go inside the restaurant,” Mom said. Then Dad swooped in, grabbed Mom by the waist, twirled her, and leaned her on her back. But not before Dad strained a muscle in his own back and began groaning. Ugh, why did they have to be so... I don’t know, married? It was so annoying to see two people bending for one another (literally) just so they could coexist together. I’m never getting married.

“I’m okay, Mom. You have fun,” I said, but Mom was too busy catering to broke-back Dad. At least we were in Romania, and I didn’t have to wonder if former classmates, or worse, former friends, would see us. I was so glad school was over. College had to be ten thousand times better. I couldn’t wait to start in the fall. As I lingered on that thought, I looked at my parents and little sister and sighed. This vacation was doomed from the start.

I still didn’t understand how they managed to convince me to walk to this godforsaken restaurant on top of a mountain. My sister whined the whole time, and my parents almost rolled down like hedgehogs. And when we got there, the restaurant was so full, we couldn’t even step through the door. Clearly, my parents weren’t the best planners. With them, I never knew what would happen next. Still, somehow, they managed to get a table on the terrace by name-dropping some famous distant relative they’d never met. Typical.

But the beauty of the restaurant was undeniable. The tables and benches were made from massive tree trunks. On top lay embroidered table runners in a traditional Romanian style and hand-painted clay plates. The décor took my breath away––live flowers hung from every corner, as well as statues of forest animals. Except for the owner’s random choice of hanging several copies of Renaissance paintings, including The Birth of Venus , the place was great.

What I couldn’t figure out was why Mom made us hike up the damn mountain when there was a cable car just fifty feet away. “To admire the nature,” Mom said. Admire nature my butt, especially when Dad looked one step away from a heart attack. And that wasn’t even the worst part. The promise to take the cable car back disappeared into thin air when it closed hours ago. The candle-less cake had already been eaten, and we were pretty much the only ones left. It felt like time had stopped for my parents, and we would stay stranded on this mountain forever. Sometimes, I wasn’t sure who was the parent in this family. My parents didn’t account for much. I glanced at my sister, who was busy coloring every inch of the coloring book the restaurant staff gave her. At least she didn’t have to worry about all this for a while.

“Mom, it’s getting late. How are we going back to the hotel?” I asked, already worried about the weird sounds coming from the woods.

“Soon, Dovlecel ,” Dad mumbled and took Mom for another spin.

“I thought I was your Dovlecel .” Petra began pouting.

He grinned and said, “You both are my Dovlecel .”

“Just so you know, I was the first to be called Dovlecel . You’re always second when it comes to me,” I said.

“No, I’m not.” Anger began building between Petra’s brows.

“Oh, yes, you are. You’ll always live off my hand-me- downs, like all little sisters do.”

“Mom,” Petra yelled, “I never want to wear anything from this meanie.” Her eyes began welling up, and Dad rushed to calm her. What a wuss.

“Elena, stop teasing your sister. You’re too old for this.” Mom continued her one-person dance while Dad hugged Petra.

“If we’re not going home soon, I won’t stop.” I stood and prepared to go inside the restaurant.

“Just because you were bullied in school doesn’t mean you can bully me too. You’re just a meanie hiding behind that scarf wrapped around your neck,” Petra said, wiping away crocodile tears.

“Petra, no,” both my parents said, then looked at me to see my reaction.

Like all sisters, Petra knew how to jab the knife in the deepest wounds. “It’s not a scarf, it’s a choker.” I fought to hide any emotion her words might have caused.

“And now, I’m definitely going home. With or without you.” I ran to grab my jacket from the chair.

“No, we’ll go together,” Dad said.

“I’m not going with her anywhere,” Petra said, crossing her arms.

“Don’t worry, you’re not my favorite person either. Actually, you never were. I hate the day you were born,” I blurted. This time, I hit my target. Petra burst into a full-on tantrum while Mom and Dad struggled to console her.

“Elena, now you’re in trouble,” said Mom.

“I’m already punished by being here. I just want to go home.” And I didn’t mean the hotel. I wanted to go home home. To my room. Alone. Where I wouldn’t be bothered by anyone and could read the Glinting Book or a fantasy novel in peace. Anything to help me forget.

I never would’ve agreed to this vacation if my parents hadn’t forced it on me because of what happened at school. And we all knew that running away wouldn’t solve the problem. At least, that’s what I told my mom, but she argued, “Neither was staying holed up in your room reading books.” We agreed to disagree. And that’s how I ended up on a mountain in the middle of nowhere.

“We were planning to leave in twenty minutes. You couldn’t wait a little longer?” Mom asked.

“It’s already late. Who’s going to drive us down that serpentine road? Or do you plan on rolling down like a pumpkin, or dovlecel ?”

“If you trusted your parents more often, we wouldn’t be having so much trouble,” Mom said. “Look over there, our ride is coming.”

When I turned, a middle-aged man exited the restaurant, followed by his wife. He wore a cab driver hat and looked like he’d just finished a drinking competition.

“But he’s drunk,” I retorted.

“I haven’t had a sip, Miss,” he said as he took off his cab driver hat.

“You just look funny then,” I said.

He belly-laughed and said, “It’s always a pleasure to hear from such a spirited young lady. Come, my car is parked at the entrance. You will arrive home in no time. ”

“The hotel is not my home,” I said.

“Home is where the people you care about are,” he said, trying to play the philosopher.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to follow this man or ride in his car. “How did you find this man, Mom?” I asked. “Maybe he’s a serial killer planning to murder us in these creepy woods.”

“Oh, Elena. Stop being rude. He was having dinner at the restaurant when we started talking. He said he would gladly drive us home. He’s a professor of Mythology at the University of Bra?ov.”

“Just because he says something doesn’t make it true,” I mumbled, pissed I had to share a ride with this weird stranger.

“You make a valuable point, Miss.” He chuckled. “You should never trust a stranger. But if there’s a way to ease your hesitation, I’ll gladly do it.”

“There’s no need,” Mom said, walking closer to the funny man.

“If you’re such a bigshot Mythology professor, then tell me why Vlad the Impaler was called Dracula.”

“Elena, can you stop? This isn’t the time to push your obsessions on others. Let’s go,” said Dad as he took a very tired Petra into his arms.

“I see you know your history, Miss,” said the man. “The reason Vlad III was called Dracula was because of his father, Vlad II when he became part of the Order of the Dragon. This was an alliance, similar to the Teutonic Knights, formed by the Hungarian king at the beginning of the fourteenth century. The honor earned him the title of Dracul, or Dragon, making Vlad III the son of the dragon––Draculya. Now do you believe me?”

“It’s getting late,” I said. “Let’s go.” I walked past the professor and headed straight to his car, the only one left in the parking lot.

“You have a fireball of a daughter,” he said to my parents.

“Oh, we know,” Dad said. “Both our daughters are on the feisty side, but our eldest takes the cake.”

“She’s exactly how she should be,” he said, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit proud.

“Do you think so?” Dad asked, surprised.

“Oh, yes. You never know what the future holds,” the quirky professor said. “It’s best to have a strong personality.”

“Honey,” the professor’s wife said, “let’s not pester these nice people with our chatter. Let’s get them home safely.” She patted his shoulder gently.

“You’re right. A good night’s sleep can fix any misunderstanding,” the professor said, opening the car’s back door.

I still didn’t look at them. Instead, I turned toward the dark forest, feeling even more unsettled by the strange sounds coming from it.

“Get in the car, Elena. And let’s not fight,” said Dad as he got into the car with a sleeping Petra in his arms.

“Who’s fighting? I’m not.” I tried to defend myself.

“Elena cut it out and get in,” Mom intervened.

“Fine.” I got in the car. But once Mom climbed in, we were jam-packed and could barely breathe.

“You sure this is a good idea?” I asked, but no one answered.

“Buckle up,” said the nutty professor. “The road down the mountain is twisty and steep. We don’t want you to fall off the edge of the world.”

“If my younger daughter were awake, she’d be excited about the idea,” Dad said.

“I can’t wait to fall off the edge of the world,” I said.

“How old are you, Miss?” the professor asked.

“I’m eighteen,” I answered proudly. “Today was my birthday.” My pride quickly turned to bitterness.

“Then there’s plenty of time and, who knows, it might happen sooner rather than later.”