The Time Tournament (Order of the Dragon #1)

CHAPTER 38

Elena

February 1431

“A

nd now, entering the arena are Prince Killian Valkorian and his rider from the House of the Crimson Dragon, allied with Vlad II, son of Mircea the Elder, claimant to the Wallachian throne, and Lady Zariya Voglen with her rider from the House of the Aurelian Dragon, allied with Prince Fruzhin, Tsar of Bulgaria,” the Master of Lists announced.

The crowd erupted in deafening cheers for their chosen teams. Lord Valkorian sat next to Vlad II, who clapped as Killian and Laszlo ascended to the center of the arena. Tarra, Soraya, and I stood outside our armory building, watching them soar overhead. Killian’s opponent was a dazzling Golden Goddess. It broke my heart to know humans poached such beauty––a golden dragon straight out of a fairytale. The sun’s rays made her scales sparkle, lighting up the entire arena. Although a protective membrane covered most of her golden eyes, when sunlight hit it, it still shone prismatic shards of light.

While Killian flew with aggressive precision, her style was like a ballet dancer’s—elegant, refined, deliberate. As if watching a killer machine meet a golden swan. These two couldn’t be more opposite, even if they tried. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t dare fight her. She was one of a kind, too precious to harm.

Her rider was a rugged, experienced element-wielder, his pin-straight posture and stacked muscles showing his ease in steering Zariya. He wore a brown leather uniform similar to our own, except his breastplate resembled an inverted triangle connected to the back with belts, while ours resembled a long corset that covered the neck as well, with vines woven into the plate. Even our sleeves were reinforced with metal pieces sewn into the leather.

Besides the house emblem sewn on the left side, the Aurelian rider wore cuffs on his arm and forearm. His uniform offered more flexibility, while ours provided more protection. But the greatest difference was the helmet. His helmet was gold-plated, with a dragon’s spread wings etched into the forehead piece. He looked majestic. Our helmet was simpler, in the color of steel, with two wings placed at the temples and rising at the sides.

I wondered what element he wielded. I didn’t have to wait long to find out. He raised his hand toward the sun, and as he clenched his fist, a spear of light materialized. Element-wielders could do that too? I always thought the elements revolved around water, fire, air, and earth.

For a second, Laszlo lost his composure and became nervous. Killian didn’t tolerate any sort of hesitation, so he began to breathe fire just to show who was in charge. Zariya retaliated instantly, her flames glowing with a golden hue. This dragoness must have been born on the sun. Her rider didn’t waste any time and hurled the spear straight at Laszlo.

He pulled at Killian’s crest reins, narrowly avoiding the strike by an inch. I wondered if the light spear could have hurt Killian.

Killian signaled Laszlo to make the next move. Laszlo uncorked one of his jars and swirled his finger, conjuring a tornado. He sent the tornado toward the Aurelian rider, nearly knocking him to the ground. The other guy definitely didn’t know what our Laszlo was capable of.

Tarra, Soraya, and I cheered loudly, making Laszlo blush. But Killian wasn’t a fan of our display of appreciation. Instead, he began circling the golden dragon. Once he was behind her, he pierced her hind limb with his razor-sharp talons. Zariya roared and twisted, slamming her tail into Laszlo. The impact sent him flying off Killian’s back. I closed my eyes, fearing the worst, when I heard Tarra say, “He’s still hanging in there.” When I opened my eyes, I saw his broken glass jar on the ground, but Laszlo was still clinging to Killian’s front limb. He still had a chance.

Zariya prepared to strike again, while her rider hurled light spear after light spear. The light spears’ biggest flaw was their short range. Most of them landed under his boots until one hit him. The entire force of light entered the wound and exploded inside his foot, leaving an open gash. Although Laszlo writhed in pain, he couldn’t even scream, holding on for dear life.

Laszlo hurriedly uncorked his second jar and muttered an incantation. Dark clouds gathered right above the Aurelian rider and started pouring rain. Though it was winter, the rain didn’t freeze. The rain temporarily halted the Aurelian rider’s ability to summon light spears. But it looked like the Aurelian rider had a plan B up his sleeve when he pulled a prismwater spear from behind his shoulder. Double crap.

Seeing the weapon in his opponent’s hand, Laszlo scrambled to get back on Killian. When the Aurelian rider aimed his prismwater spear, Laszlo yelled, “Cloudy, come here!” After releasing all the rain earlier, the cloud rushed back to him. It flew under him and broke his fall. The cloud hovered above Killian’s back as Laszlo jumped onto him. He immediately took hold of the crest reins as Killian nodded in acknowledgment.

Now that was what I called an unexpected twist of events. Laszlo summoned the wind, gusts swirling from the woods, carrying leaves and twigs that completely engulfed the Aurelian rider. Laszlo unsheathed his prismwater sword and used it as a spear. He threw it straight at the Aurelian rider. Chills crawled through my body when it struck him in the chest. All eyes were on the Aurelian rider, waiting to see if he would fall. Finally, he slowly leaned to the side from the weight of the sword plunged into his body, and plummeted to the ground.

“We won?” I asked, still not believing my eyes.

“The House of the Crimson Dragon wins,” the game marshal declared.

“We won!” Tarra and Soraya breathed a sigh of relief. But our victory didn’t feel like a celebration. Someone had to die. I couldn’t feel happy knowing that someone’s family would be burying their son.

The one who didn’t seem to care much was Killian. He began roaring along with the crowd’s cheers. Killian clearly loved the attention. Both Zariya and Killian flew back to their base armory building, but Zariya emerged wearing her privacy cloak and knelt next to her rider. Distraught, she tried in vain to revive him. And when she realized he was dead, she lowered her head as if to say goodbye. Then she stood as if nothing happened and left. She didn’t want to do this, just like we didn’t want to do this.

Back in the armory, Novak and Kovak, who had watched from the game marshal’s stand, ran to congratulate Laszlo. Even Lord Valkorian entered the armory and said, “You have done great, my boy.”

“It’s all in the training, Father,” Killian said already dressed in his uniform. His arrogance probably rose through the roof.

With the first match done, the crowd roared for more blood and entertainment. We all walked to the nearby stand reserved for our house and took a seat. For whatever reason Killian sat next to me. I scooched as far from him as possible, but his towering figure was unavoidable.

“And now,” announced the Master of Lists, “will come forward a representative from the House of the Cerulean Dragon, Prince Cyprian Wulkanov and his rider, allied with Ladislaus II, King of Poland, and from the House of the Cimmerian Dragon, Lord Feroz Castellano and his rider, allied with King Alfonso the Magnanimous of Aragon.”

Since the Cimmerian House had only one dragon, the Ceruleans had to match them. They chose the younger dragon. The Cerulean and the Cimmerian dragons flew into the arena, ready to tear each other apart. The Cerulean dragon struck the Cimmerian’s hindlimb with its spiked tail while the younger dragon breathed fire near its opponent’s head.

At first, it seemed like the riders were mere decoys. But once they reached the correct height, both dragons simply hovered above the bloodstained snow, not making a move. Each of them flapped their wings slowly and rather unbothered. Their measured movements made them seem to float effortlessly.

Both dragons looked distinct in their own way. The blue dragon had a special blue sheen that flowed across the back of his body. It made him look painted, ephemeral even, as if out of a children’s book. The Cimmerian dragon’s dark gray scales, sleek like steel, gave him a futuristic appearance. The sun’s glimmer on the iridescent scales did justice to both dragons’ beauty.

Both riders on these teams wore black leather uniforms. Even their breastplates were black. And just like with the previous players, the main distinction was in their helmets. The Cerulean rider’s dark blue helmet featured wings curving around his jaw. And the Cimmerian rider wore a dark gray helmet, with a dragon carved in metal at the back of his head.

From the initial chaotic entrance, the game quickly turned into a battle of wits. Who would make the first move? They scrutinized each other’s every action until the Cerulean rider pulled out a slingshot.

“What an unusual choice for a weapon,” I remarked.

“Never underestimate the Ceruleans,” Killian replied matter-of-factly.

The Cerulean rider gripped the handle and pulled a spiky metal ball from his satchel.

“Is that spiky ball dipped in prismwater?” I asked.

“It is,” Killian confirmed.

Everyone expected the rider to save their secret prismwater weapon as a last resort, but the Cerulean rider went for plan B straightaway. But how did he plan on using it?

“Why isn’t the Cimmerian rider using his prismwater weapon?” I wondered aloud.

“From what I heard, Feroz refused to get one out of respect for our house’s lands,” Killian explained.

Before Feroz had time to react, the Cerulean rider aimed his slingshot and released the ball into the Cimmerian dragon’s eye. The devastating screech that followed forced me to cover my ears. When I looked up again, the prismwater had eaten through the protective membrane of the Cimmerian dragon, causing him great pain.

“That is the only spot a prismwater weapon could inflict injury to a dragon in his full form,” Killian said. “The Ceruleans knew exactly what they were doing.”

Damn, they were good. I would’ve never thought of such a strategy. The attack sent the Cimmerian dragon into a frenzy. He lunged at Cyprian. Despite the Cimmerian rider’s experience, he couldn’t control the crest reins.

Feroz crashed into Cyprian's side, destabilizing the Cimmerian rider. The Cerulean rider took advantage of the close encounter and stabbed the Cimmerian rider in the shoulder with his sword. A piercing scream echoed through the arena. In retaliation, the Cimmerian rider seized the Cerulean’s helmet with his own sword, placing him in a vulnerable position.

Using one hand, the Cimmerian rider pulled Feroz to the side to create some distance, but before they could pull away, he unleashed a torrent of black fire, burning half of the Cerulean rider’s face.

But that didn’t stop them. Cyprian flew toward Feroz’s mouth and slammed his jaw shut, throwing the Cimmerian dragon off balance and causing him to lose height. Sensing victory, Cyprian launched another attack on the Cimmerians.

The Cimmerian rider quickly regained composure and began summoning his elemental powers. Dark shadows as large as dragons emerged from his hands and began circling the opposing team. In response, the Cerulean rider called upon his own powers. From beneath the earth, rocks of various sizes—ranging from pebbles to boulders—rose, hovering in the air, waiting for his command. But before he could catapult them, the shadows engulfed him, limiting his visibility.

At this point, no one knew who would win. It was anyone’s game.

Suddenly, a “shoo” sound cut through the air as the Cerulean dragon took control of the situation. Using echolocation, it sped up toward the Cimmerians, pulling its rider out of the shadows’ darkness. Although the shadows followed, the Cerulean rider launched a hail of rocks at his opponent.

“Shadows, come to me!” the Cimmerian rider yelled.

But it was too late. Rocks, pebbles, and boulders all crashed into the Cimmerians like a meteorite rain. Everything happened so fast, we didn’t even realize he had been stoned to death. After one last hit, the Cimmerian rider teetered lifelessly on his dragon’s back, then with one light swoosh of the wind, he plunged to the ground.

The crowd erupted in wild excitement. Medieval people loved their public executions.

I thought the game would be over once the rider was off the dragon, but Feroz wanted to retaliate. He threw himself at Cyprian, but the Cerulean was too strong and bit into one of the Cimmerian’s wings. Defeated, the Cimmerian dragon immediately left the arena.

“The Cerulean House wins,” the Master of Lists declared.

But the Ceruleans weren’t finished. They lowered themselves to the body lying on the ground. Piece by piece, the dragon ripped through the body with its claws until it was nothing but minced meat. The cruelty was heartbreaking.

“Why is he doing this? He already won the game,” I asked Killian.

“It’s part of their intimidation plan. It’s how they make an easy target out of riders.”

I wanted to tell Killian that their plan was somewhat succeeding, but I bit my lip. I didn’t want another lecture on how important these games were for the future of literally everyone in Wallachia. Talk about pressure.

The evening was spent feasting. Even Killian joined, but I wasn’t in the mood. I quickly retired to my chamber, hoping to rest. But the night came and went, and I didn’t close an eye. How could I? Today might be the day I die. Even the cushy bed felt like needles prickling my body. I missed my safe, marble bed. Back then, only Killian wanted to kill me. I missed those times. You never know what you have until you lose it. I would bring back Killian the Hater instead of Killian the Victory-or-Nothing Commander any day .

The second light hit the window, I was up and ready—ready to run for the hills, that is. But if I did, I would disappoint everyone. If I stayed, I might die. Pure and simple. Speaking of the Pure—those transparent triplets needed to pay for giving me this choice. I could have lived a happy, quiet life as a forest weed dealer. But no, they let me decide to become a dragon rider. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.

Fine, I’ll try my best. I’ll fight the scary blue dragons. This was the path I chose, and it will be the path I’ll honor.

I put on my uniform and opened the door to leave when I found Tarra smiling at me. “What are you doing here?”

“You see…” her voice trembled.

“You’re nervous too, huh?” I said, relieved.

“You too? You always seem so strong.”

“It’s my first tournament,” I admitted.

“It’s my first time as well,” Tarra said.

“Hey, who’s the dragon between us?”

“I know, but you never know what those beasts will bring into the arena.”

“Well, we know what the Ceruleans have up their sleeves. That should give us some leverage. Plus, we’ll play as a team. The four of us in the arena are pretty strong.”

“You’re right. You always say and do the right things.” Tarra sighed.

“I’m not sure about that. I didn’t close an eye the entire night.”

“Me too.” She grinned. “But at least Soraya was there to keep me company.”

When we arrived at the armory, Killian was already there, looking as refreshed as a cat after a nap.

“Did you sleep well, Commander?” I asked.

“Better than ever. Nothing compares to a victory sleep. But that doesn’t mean we can lose sight of our mission.”

“Yes, Commander,” I replied almost automatically.

“Everyone gather,” Killian ordered.

Laszlo, Tarra, Novak, Kovak, and I formed a circle around Killian.

“I know I’ve pushed you to the limit many times, all with the goal of bringing out the best in you. Now it’s time to let those skills shine. We are, first and foremost, a team. More than a team—a family. Almost all of us are fighting today, and I want you to give your best, not just as fighters but as teammates. If one of our riders falls today, Kovak and Novak will join the game. Kovak, as usual, is assigned to me, and Novak to Tarra. Our goal is singular, and if we act as one, that goal will be ours. As a team, we are undefeatable.”

“It’s fighting time,” Tarra said.

“No, it’s winning time,” Killian declared.

There were two types of people in the world, and I had both on my live-or-die team. Hurray.

Both brother and sister left to change and returned wearing their cloaks. I prepared my morningstar, and Laszlo had his prismwater sword and one jar ready.

“Will you be able to use Windy since its jar is broken?” I asked .

“When in the wild, Windy becomes stronger but harder to control. I’ll try to summon him, but we’ll see what force of nature returns.”

Kovak and Novak walked us to the arena, and Killian said, “Let’s get them, Crimson team.”

What a time to become a shish kebab without skewers.