The Time Tournament (Order of the Dragon #1)

CHAPTER 2

Elena

Present time

T he hot July day made the mountain trail unbearable. The time of day didn’t help either. Why did my parents listen to that insufferable professor and decide to hike this trail? There was nothing remotely fascinating about it. Even his ghost of a wife agreed yesterday. But here we were, dragging our feet along the path and pretending to enjoy it. Some people weren’t satisfied with regular life problems. They had to add walks through brown bear territory to their bucket list.

And if that wasn’t torture enough, earlier this morning, Petra and I had to settle yesterday’s “misunderstanding.” First, I had to vent all my frustrations while everyone listened. Then everyone else did the same, which took forever since Mom and Dad were nursing their hangovers. And finally, I had to apologize to Petra and actually mean it. I did go a little overboard yesterday, and she was still a kid. But she didn’t have to bring up all that school crap and the scarf. She couldn’t begin to understand what I went through, and I wasn’t sure I wanted her to find out. Ever. Especially from those I considered friends.

And now, after the morning “peace circle,” we had to hike this boring-ass trail at two in the afternoon. Like, who goes on walks in the middle of the day? In July? Sure, there were plenty of natural springs around, so we didn’t risk getting dehydrated, but the annoying forest guide made me want to drown myself in one of them. She kept badgering us about this “marvelous” forest over and over like she was trying to sell us the place. Ugh. Why did people even like walking through forests? Just a bunch of trees. As if we had nothing better to do. I could easily think of three things I’d rather do right now: nap, eat breakfast for lunch, and nap again.

Then again, if I squinted really hard, I could see the appeal: the forest sounds, the tiny critters, the birds singing. The giant bridge we crossed, connecting one side of the mountain to the other, took my breath away. For a bit. It was a great place if you were into that kind of thing. But I wasn’t. I was here only because “no matter what, family stays together.” Blah, blah, blah.

That’s what Mom and Dad loved to say. And where were they now? Trying not to puke all over this majestic landscape while clinging to the word “family” as their last pillar of dignity. There was no winning when it came to family. But I had to hand it to them: Mom and Dad made sure we bonded and stayed bonded. I couldn’t imagine my life without them, even when all I wanted was to lock myself in my room. In truth, I had good parents and an okay sister. It could’ve been worse. They could’ve been annoying forest guides.

As I ambled through the forest, I remembered the first page of the Glinting Book and how it burned in the fire last night. It broke my heart. When I found it years ago in my Romanian grandma’s attic, I knew it had to mean something. I just didn’t know what. Grandma said some drunkard traded it and a wooden apple for a bottle of moonshine. But just like me, she couldn’t find any use for the objects, so she tossed them in the attic and forgot about them.

One summer, I accidentally discovered them during a game of hide and seek. It made me feel like a true explorer and adventurer. When I showed them to Grandma, she didn’t share my enthusiasm but gladly gifted them to me.

Now I had a riddle on my hands. An exciting new mystery only I could crack. Except, I couldn’t do it for years. At first, the apple and the book with its sparkly pages seemed connected, but the more I thought about it, the less convinced I became. The one thing I figured out was that each page had a different year as its title. But what those years meant wasn’t clear .

Over time, I found a new obsession: Vlad the Impaler. The moment I learned about him from my Romanian father, I couldn’t get enough. I would spend hours reading about him online and soon became the Dracula expert in the family. Then my sister wanted to join my one-woman fan club. At first, I wasn’t interested, but gradually it brought us closer, and we ended up having a lot of fun together.

We loved pretending to be witches and reciting various chants from the book. I always took on the role of the evil witch, casting tickling spells on Petra, knowing how much she hated it. During one of those games, Petra knocked the wooden apple off the corner of my bed. I got so mad, that I shoved her out of my room and locked the door. After five minutes of knocking and whimpering, she gave up and went to tattle on me to our parents. But I didn’t care. Something was sparkling from the wooden apple. I whacked it on the bed frame again, and the apple split in two. Inside was a golden chain with a pendant attached to it. The pendant was shaped like a clover with a red gem in the center. Turns out, I had hit the jackpot in my grandma’s attic years ago and didn’t even know it.

From that day on, I always kept it close. I told everyone I won it at a county fair, and no one bothered to check it out any further. Unlike me, who studied its details with a magnifying glass. The more I inspected it, the more convinced I was that it had to be a witch’s amulet. The clover had all these intricate details, like a moon and a star with a tail. It had to be some kind of magical code I felt obligated to crack. And given that the Glinting Book looked just as old, they had to be connected somehow. I just hoped that, in time, I’d figure out what they meant.

But time wasn’t on my side, no matter how many libraries I begged my mom to drive me to. Every time I asked a teacher, they’d recommend an expert. But what if the expert figured out the value of the piece and stole it from me? I couldn’t risk it. The only thing I knew was that it was medieval. Now that I was an adult, a grown woman about to attend Washington State University, I was determined to find out what the jewel meant. If only fall would come sooner.

“Girls, why are you walking so fast? My head hurts so bad, I’m seeing double,” Dad said.

“Did you forget how much you drank last night?” Mom said, leaning her elbow on Dad’s slouched shoulder.

“Who are you to talk? I remember you were matching me shot for shot.”

“Yeah, well, I feel way better than you,” Mom said, tripping in front of Dad. He burst into a victorious laugh but didn’t hesitate to help her up.

“Not anymore, you don’t.” Dad grinned.

“Oh, stop gloating,” Mom said, giving him a slap on the back.

“Sharon, why do you need to hurt me when I’m already suffering?” Dad replied.

“Why did you have to stand in front of me?” Mom asked, rubbing her bruised elbow.

“Well, excuse me for existing,” Dad said .

“If you and your bear paws had moved a little faster, maybe I wouldn’t have tripped.”

“Now I’m a bear with paws?” Dad said, glancing self-consciously at his beer belly.

“Mom, Dad, didn’t you make us be nice and apologize this morning? Where did all that wisdom go?” I prodded.

“It’s at the bottom of last night’s empty pitcher, Dovlecel ,” Dad said, shaking his head. “The heat’s just reminding us of our bad decisions.”

“Let’s catch up with the guide. Where did she go? I hope we’re not lost,” Mom said, looking around but completely missing the guide standing right in front of her.

“Look at them, making us walk while they barely drag their feet,” I mumbled to myself.

“They don’t feel good.” Goody two-shoes Petra heard what I said.

“Yeah, well, we should’ve stayed at the hotel. Look at them chugging spring water like two lost otters.”

Petra laughed. I hadn’t heard her laugh in so long. She was always too serious for her age. And suddenly, I realized how alike we were. We shared the same shade of brown hair with golden streaks, though mine was darker. We also had the same hazel eyes. No one would mistake us for strangers. I kinda loved my little sister. Sometimes. When, you know, the moon and the sun aligned. I smiled back at her and gave her a half hug.

“You know, I actually like your scarf—I mean choker,” Petra said. “I might wear one too.”

“The first time I wore it, it was Mom’s satin scarf, so you’re not completely wrong. But you don’t need it. I wear it because… of that thing that happened to me. You shouldn’t copy everything I do.” I stroked the velvet black choker around my neck.

“Why not?”

“Because not everything I do is right, Petra,” I said.

“That’s not true. You do everything right. And you’re always fun. Except when you’re a meanie.”

“Want to have some more fun?” I grinned.

Petra nodded.

“Let’s see if Mom and Dad can find us,” I said, pulling Petra behind a massive oak.

We stayed quiet and still, listening as Mom and Dad got closer.

“Costi, why do I feel so bad? Is it because I’m getting older?”

“No, it’s because of the five shots of palinca you downed yesterday. The moment you stepped into that restaurant, you were demanding booze from the poor servers like your life depended on it.”

“I was hungry,” Mom said. “And thirsty.”

“Great job understanding your hunger cues. What’s next? Drinking vodka instead of your morning coffee?”

“Please stop mentioning alcohol around me.” Mom quickly covered her mouth.

“What? Chugging moonshine like a pro didn’t work out so well the next day, huh?”

“You’re gonna make me puke, and it’ll be your fault,” she said, looking around for a tree .

“Now it’s my fault?”

Their voices slowly faded as we waited in vain for them to notice us.

“Are they coming?” Petra asked, hugging me.

“No, they forgot about us,” I said.

“What?”

“Uh-huh. I guess last night really did a number on them.”

When Petra turned, her face changed. “Where are we?”

I followed her gaze and saw the most stunning meadow I’d ever seen. Nothing like the boring main path the guide took us. It still looked like the same forest, but somehow it combined all kinds of forests into one. A sense of adventure and mysticism filled the air. The oak trees resembled statue-like guardians, preserving the forest’s centuries-old history. Among them, towering pine trees mingled their crisp aroma with the sweet nectar of field flowers bordering the meadow. The breeze caressed my flushed cheeks, providing much-needed relief from the sweltering heat. The center of the grove was carpeted with the most vibrant green grass, trimmed to perfection. It begged you to kick off your shoes and bury your toes in the cool softness of its delicate blades. The sun streamed through the trees, evoking images of ethereal spells cast in the ongoing battle between light and darkness. While the moss-covered rocks looked like earthy monsters ready to awaken. Even the squirrels, peeking out from their tree burrows, seemed to sense the specialness of this place. I wasn’t one to use flowery language, but the place didn’t give me a choice. It looked like a storybook of ferns, butterflies, and magic. Everything seemed both ordinary and otherworldly at the same time.

And apparently, my sister had the same experience. “Why does this place look like a fairytale?” she asked.

“You noticed it too?” I asked. “We’re only a few feet off the main trail. Why didn’t the guide tell us about this place?”