The Time Tournament (Order of the Dragon #1)

CHAPTER 8

Elena

July 1378

J ust as expected, the training went horribly wrong. For an older woman, Melisandriah sure knew how to fight. And she was a witch. Couldn’t she just snap her fingers and take an enemy out? Why she needed to get good at combat training was beyond me. She argued hands-on attacks were more precise. But if I had her abilities, you wouldn’t catch me throwing punches at anyone. Not even a fly.

Mel, of course, didn’t trust me with the prismwater dagger yet, so we started with a wooden one. But even that was out of my league. She’d rip it out of my hand every time I got close. I ended up rolling like a boulder into thorny vines and stinging nettle more times than I could count. But the worst was when Mel took my dagger and pointed it at my neck. Her eyes told me she knew what had happened, and was only testing me. Still, the mere thought of a knife cutting through my choker sent me spiraling. I collapsed to the ground, wrapped my arms around my knees, and tried in vain to control my tears.

Mel sat next to me and leaned in, offering a bit of comfort. “This part of your history never changes. What are you afraid of, my daughter?”

“I’m afraid my weakness will get us killed,” I muttered.

“Is death your concern?”

I nodded. “Even when you tell me there will be more chances, what if the Fates change their minds after they find out how incompetent I am?”

“For the Fates to change, something big must happen.” She brushed the loose hair away from my face. “And as for death, if you think about it, you never really die. You’re reborn one way or another. It’s all just expansion and implosion.”

“But there will be a time when I won’t know it. And I don’t want to lose myself.” My bottom lip trembled.

“To be, and to know are very different things. For most of your life, you strive to know who or what you are. You study yourself from every angle until that side is no longer with you. But you don’t cease to exist. Humans turn to soil: a source of nutrients, or a speck of ash blown by the winds and merged with the sea.”

“I’m not looking forward to becoming dust. That’s for sure.”

“In rare cases, you can be reborn while still in your human flesh. But you can’t truly lose yourself. You can only be reborn. And sometimes, to be reborn, you must die first. That’s the cycle of life.”

“So, you’re saying I shouldn’t be afraid?”

“Oh, you should. But not of dying, but of not living enough. Most often, your memories will be the ones to keep you alive. Now, get ready for another round.” She got into a fighting stance. “Or are you so weak you’ll let yourself die again? Or maybe live again through the times that forced you to wear your collar?”

Oh, she knew how to jab a dagger deep into a bleeding wound. Even better than Petra. “It’s not a collar. It’s a choker.” I threw myself at her, but as usual, she snubbed me.

“Many believe to win a battle you must be stronger and more skilled than your opponent. That’s not true. What you need is to be more cunning. I know you can do better. Whatever’s holding you back, let it go. There’s more to you than meets the eye. Show that to me. Or are you as weak as your enemies believe you to be?”

That did it. She pushed me to my limit, and I couldn’t help but let the anger flood my body. I switched the dagger in my left hand but pretended to stab her with my right. When I grabbed her attacking hand, I twisted it behind her back, while aiming the wooden dagger at her exposed neck.

“I see you can still use both hands equally,” she said. “Though uncontrolled anger isn’t the best ally in battle, it’ll work for now. Remember, these warlocks know about the prismwater dagger and cover their entire bodies for this exact reason. They’ve been trained in time-wielding magic since they were kids. Don’t underestimate them. They’re built to kill mercilessly, especially when their entire clan’s livelihood is at stake. Finding an open patch of skin will be hard, and that’s your main mission. Am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I squared my shoulders like a soldier.

“Why do you have to be like this?” She sighed. “Come on, let’s head back. I need to give you something.”

“Listen, how do you know so much about these warlocks? And you never mentioned their names. I want to know the names of the ones I have nightmares about.”

“They’re a clan of elemental witches and wizards known as The Sacred Five Coven. They control the five elements: fire, water, earth, air, and time. Time is the hardest to master and the most coveted among the elders. The warlocks hunting you were chosen specifically for their ability to manipulate time, using it in both the Ordinary and Other Realms.”

“But you’re a time-wielding witch too. Are you also part of The Sacred Five Coven?” I asked.

“No, I’m on the right side of history,” she said proudly, but her gaze told a different story. So much pain, that only eyes could speak.

“Did you lose someone close? ”

“In a way, I lost everything, but… I gained myself,” she whispered.

“How did––”

“Enough questions for today,” she said, rushing into the cottage. Not just to cut me short but to check if we were safe.

Mel made it clear that the attack could happen anytime. But based on her “statistics,” they usually arrived in about two months. Two months. It seemed strange that they would drag my murder out for so long. They had the same powers as Mel, so why not kill me earlier when I wasn’t as prepared? Maybe they wanted me to time travel somewhere without Mel and kill me there.

“All is clear,” Mel said.

“Mel,” I said as I entered the cottage, “why don’t you time travel with me to 1430? Wouldn’t that be safer?”

“I can’t. Otherwise, I might miss your next arrival. I must always be in or close to the time continuum.”

“And you’ve been doing this for years? For some kind of ‘mission,’ you can’t even fully explain?” I asked.

“There’s more to it than you can see with the naked eye. Especially when it comes to the Other Realm.”

“Are we in the Other Realm now?”

“Yes, the nymphs’ meadow is the entrance to the Other Realm. But the real distinction is in the presence of those either touched by magic or born with it. If you dwell on it too much, it gets complicated quickly. Best you stick to the Ordinary Realm. That one is almost always straightforward. Here.” She handed me a book .

“It’s in Romanian. A fifth-grade medieval history book? Really? And from 1975?” This felt more insulting than I wanted to admit.

“What’s the problem? That’s the closest to your time I could get. Plus, you don’t need to know more. Make sure you brush up on your Romanian. You’ll need it after you travel. But most importantly you need to learn your rulers and kings. The more you remember, the easier it will be to navigate through history.”

Then it hit me. “I’m going to live through a part of history.” My grin spread from ear to ear. “Will I meet Vlad the Impaler?”

“You might. Though only as a child.”

“I’ll take it.”

“You’re mostly going to deal with his father, Vlad Dracul.”

“Did you meet him or Vlad the Impaler personally?”

“I did. It was short and unremarkable. Nothing changed.” She seemed bored out of her mind.

“Please tell me you got an autograph,” I pleaded.

She handed me two rolled papers. “One is a decree from the father. The other is from the son. I couldn’t just go ask them to sign a paper. They would probably burn me at the stake.”

My eyes widened.

“It’s a witch joke,” she said, looking unimpressed. “And no, they wouldn’t touch witches. When they’ll be born, they’ll be too smart for that.”

When I opened the rolled paper, the smell of ink and old parchment flooded my senses. The precise writing, the Latin letters connected in one continuous stream of lines—everything felt otherworldly. I jumped and hugged the papers like the true fangirl I felt.

“Happy?”

I nodded excitedly.

“Now go read the book. I need you to recite all the years, the names of all the kings, and their spouses of the lands surrounding Wallachia. Especially Sigismund of Luxembourg. That red-bearded man can make your life a living hell with the flick of a wrist. Study him well.”

“Yes, yes. Sigi-something. I’ll go study,” I said, but instead, I planned on researching every inch of those papers.

“I’ll ask you later. For all we know, the warlocks might show up tomorrow.”

But the warlocks didn’t show up the next day, or the day after that. They didn’t attack the next month, or the following season. We went through the year as if nothing dangerous awaited me. Melisandriah still mentioned their potential arrival now and then, but even she got tired of trying to scare me. What she did make me do was chores like kindling the fire, for the whole damn winter and long into spring. The woman worked relentlessly to teach me the medieval way of living.

We’d wake up in the morning (she still slept in her rocking chair), and go to the spring for water, or in winter, we’d chop through the ice. Then we’d walk back, and warm up by the fire while the water was boiling. We’d knead dough and make different kinds of biscuits and bread. They lacked sugar and eggs, but we had sunflower oil, and that was enough. Then we’d drink tea with biscuits and talk about the differences in our times. Even though she refused to time travel while I lived there, she made sure to stock up on plenty of flour, wood, rolls of cheese, and jars of jam. On rare occasions, she would hunt a pheasant or a squirrel. It was a simple life I never expected to enjoy.

In the afternoons, we’d clean, practice historical facts or basic fighting, study herbology, and sometimes knit socks. She never let me go beyond the enchanted meadow. She always reminded me that humans and magical beings would never welcome me with open arms but rather with pitchforks and prismwater daggers. The only safe place was with her, in and around the cottage.

Mel always said it wouldn’t last forever, but it sure felt like it. And the longer time passed, the more I didn’t want it to end. The future didn’t inspire any good changes.

The most important thing Melisandriah drilled into my brain was The Spell—the one that would transport me to 1430.

I still remember the first time she taught me. She gave me a vial with a dark red substance and told me to tie it around my neck with a string. “My blood holds a bit of time force. But you can use it only once. Then it will dissipate. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“You can’t say the spell without having the vial attached to your body. So while we practice the spell, I’ll need it back.” She took the vial and placed it on the kitchen table. “Now listen carefully to the spell:

‘ Portae temporis, vires tuas effunde, fac me transire per viam tuam ad annum mille quadringentesimo tricesimo .’

I tried to memorize it, but I didn’t understand a word she said.

“If you make one mistake, you might end up in a different year. Are you paying attention?”

But I couldn’t hold back my laughter anymore. “Is there a ‘ Fac me ’ in the spell?”

“It seems like you have the humor of a thirteen-year-old boy, Elena.”

“Hey, I need to know if the Fates plan to Fac me over or not. Don’t tell me you don’t find it funny.”

“Not in the least. Now repeat after me.”

She enunciated the spell syllable by syllable until I finally got it. Or so I thought.

“No. Not ‘transpire.’ Tran-si-re . Why is this so hard?”

“I don’t know, maybe because Latin is not a language I understand. I’m just repeating after you like a parrot.”

“I am amazed at how little you work to save your life. The warlocks––”

“It’s been half a year and no warlocks,” I said.

“Oh, they’ll be here.” Her gaze pierced through my defiance, and I cowered. “How do you say that again?”

“ Tran-si-re .”

But another half a year passed, and no terrifying warlocks crossed our paths. I started questioning if anything Melisandriah said was true. Maybe she was lying. Maybe she told me half-truths. How would I know?

By the time my birthday came, I didn’t care to practice anything, much to Mel’s dismay. Still, she made me the most darling berry cake.

“I know, in your time, that’s how you celebrate your birthday.” She placed a large candle in the middle and lit it with a snap. “How old are you now?”

“Nineteen. But you already knew that.”

“True.” Another snap and the candlelight dispersed into nineteen tiny lights.

I made a wish and blew them out. “You didn’t have to do this,” I said.

“I didn’t, but I did. Now let’s eat cake.”

The following morning, we went on a hunt.

“I’m so hungry,” I said.

“We’re in luck. There’s a flock of pheasants. You should try and catch one.”

“But I feel bad killing the pheasant.”

“I get that you’ve been lucky enough to avoid looking into the eyes of those you eat. But for most of history, survival was key. It was either eat or be eaten. If you don’t eat some meat soon, your strength will dwindle. Whatever strength you have left,” she said, looking me up and down.

“You called me weak without even using the word,” I said, seething.

“Aren’t you weak?”

“No, I’m not. And I’ll show you,” I said, sprinting toward the bird. I could almost feel its feathers in my hands. But just as I leaped to grab it, it flew right past me, leaving me with a mouthful of muddy pine needles.

The witch looked unbothered, but I could see she was enjoying the show.

I cracked my knuckles and set my sights on another bird. This one escaped even faster than the first. It felt like I was being toyed with by a flock of unusually smart birds.

This way, I was gonna lose all the strength I had left. “How do you catch the damn birds?” I mumbled to myself.

“Those are birds. You’re human. Act like it. Don’t lower yourself to their level. They’ll outsmart you. Use your brain and find a better solution,” she said, still looking unbothered.

“I know. A trap. I can use a trap. Or a net. Or I could learn archery. Or spearing. Can you teach me?”

“There aren’t enough days in the year to teach you all that. Find the simplest, most effective way. That’s how you win at anything,” she said, pulling her hood up and turning toward the cottage. “Come on. It’s getting late. If we’re going to be attacked, it’s best to be ready at home.” She always said that, but it never happened.

“You go ahead. I want to try something.” I had already grabbed a fine net from around the cottage and placed it strategically on the ground, covering it with leaves. I set the net where we last saw the pheasants and waited. No one told me it took this long, but I stuck with it. Finally, one appeared and got caught right away. Success. Those bird brains didn’t stand a chance against my plan.

I grabbed the tangled bird, freed it from the net, and rushed home to show Mel. She would be so proud. As I reached the cottage, I noticed the door was ajar. Mel never left the door open. It was one of her important safety measures. It had to be a mistake. Though she didn’t look like it, she was still human. Well, kinda. She said she wasn’t, but if someone looks like a human and moves like a human, they must be a human.

I climbed the stairs with a spring in my step and walked inside. I yelled, “Mel!” with excitement, expecting her usual “Come inside.” But this time, there was only silence.