Two more birds appeared. Six total, Ezra noted. Only two more. Four, and we’re all dead. He wasn’t the only one that noticed. Other people looked around anxiously. Fewer projectiles flew through the air, but some people were still shooting. He couldn’t fathom what they were thinking. Are they trying to kill us all? I just need a few more moments to line up the shot. He focused on the cold metal of the Thorin-Sphere in his hands.

More weapons began to emerge from hidden sheaths. A sword here, a dagger there. Someone drew a mace from beneath their cloak, and another fixed a spear point on a quarterstaff. Now, eight birds flew around the room, yet still, no one had figured out a way to catch one. An occasional arrow flew, but the projectiles had mostly stopped. They had been in this room for nearly two hours, and Ezra could feel it getting hot. The pressure of impending death was weighing on everyone; crushing them; waiting for the room to explode.

A twang reverberated along the walls, and another arrow hissed toward a dove. Next, a scream broke the silence as a dagger plunged through flesh. A black-haired boy was on top of one of the archers. It was Marcus. Blood stained the pale floors and soaked into the tiles.

“There’s no time limit,” he said to his teammates. Even they looked surprised. “Once everyone is out of our way, we can figure out how to capture that stupid bird.” He leaped like a vicious animal and pounced on another person, his daggers ripping through their flesh.

The time for inaction had ceased, and the room exploded into chaos. Threats from above no longer seemed important when death hunted them on the floor. Milo tugged at Ezra’s shirt and yanked him back, just in time for a sword swing to miss him. Owen plunged his sword into the attacker and withdrew the scarlet blade.

Owen turned back. The shock of killing a person still on his face. Taking several deep breaths he slowly relaxed and focused ahead of them. “We don’t have much time. Make the throw as soon as you can. We’ll protect you.”

Milo drew his sword and nodded. His smile exuded confidence, but his hands were shaking.

One of the doves flew low. A skinny man jumped off his companion’s hands and was launched into the air above the chaos. His fingers desperately extended to reach the bird, only slightly above the second tile. That was all it took. He fell limp, and his body was hidden in the chaos.

Just focus on the doves, Ezra reminded himself. Nothing else. The birds flapped erratically as if they sensed the battle below. If he didn’t hit one, the orb would be lost, halfway across the room, and little chance they could get it back.

Owen fell beside him and yelped as a red-faced man, full of fury, stepped on his forearm. The sword in Owen’s hands escaped his grasp, and the man pushed towards Ezra. Muscles in Ezra’s legs tensed. He was frozen where he stood. The man brought the thick sword above his head and was ready to split Ezra in two. On instinct, Ezra raised the Thorin-Sphere to block the blow.

The great sword evaporated, and the man stumbled forward. He reached for Ezra’s neck. The intent to kill was seared into his eyes. Milo’s steel blade slid into his shoulder as he thrust the man back. They both stumbled onto the ground, but before the man could reach him, Milo plunged his sword in again for the killing blow. He panted as blood blossomed from the man’s throat.

“First time I’ve seen it in action,” Milo gasped. “Seems quite handy. Now, can you do the same thing to one of those birds?”

Owen groaned as he got up. His forearm was already bruised. Ezra reached down to help him. “You alright?”

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“I’ll survive,” Owen replied. “All a part of being a sky-seeker.” He grabbed his sword and resumed his defensive stance.

Ezra filtered out the noise and resumed his focus on the birds. To the right, then back towards him. Then to the left, looping close, then crossing its own path again. There was a pattern. Maybe. He couldn’t be sure yet.

Another person charged on his left. Owen was on his right, and Milo to his back. They both stepped towards the attacker. Before they could reach him, a great sword fell from above, and Ezra closed his inventory. I can’t filter out everything yet. We all still need to protect each other.

Milo slashed another person behind him, and Ezra resumed his search above. The doves circled. The elusive white ribbon at their feet. Occasionally, one would dip lower, but they all flew the same path. “A figure eight,” Ezra muttered. They’re all flying in a figure eight at different angles, but they all cross just a bit left of the center of the room. If only I could get closer.

He tapped Owen on the shoulder. “I need to move closer to the center.”

Owen blocked an incoming blow and dispatched another attacker. After doing so, he moved towards the center.

“Around me! Now,” a girl commanded.

That was a voice Ezra recognized. It was Camila’s. The freckled girl’s companions gathered around her, and she nocked an arrow. Something was different about the arrow. Just above the fletchings, a rope was tied to the shaft.

“On three.” She raised the bow just center left. She figured it out too, Ezra realized. “Three, two, one.”

The arrow flew from the bow and dragged a long rope with it. It wounded a dove, passed through its body, and struck the ceiling. Camila pulled the rope tight. The arrow had passed through like every other projectile, but the bird was stuck on the rope. Ezra ducked in anticipation. A ninth dove would mean one tile left. Gazing up at the bird, he saw it warping and fading around the rope. A third and fourth wing sprouted, a beak came out below the neck, but another dove did not emerge. The rope, straight through its body, prevented it.

Camila raised her voice again. “FIRE!”

The rest of her team raised their ranged weapons and began to pelt the bird. Loud screeches, from the creature, raised the hair on the back of Ezra’s neck as the bird warped into an unrecognizable mass. Talons, feathers, and beaks, everything that should make up a bird struggled in the air.

Owen kept pressing forward. They were almost at the center.

“More,” Camila screamed.

The avian mass was sliding from the rope.

“Ready,” Owen said.

Ezra pulled his gaze from the bird. “Almost.”

Other people stared at the rope. The battle slowed. Even Marcus took a breath. The mass merged back into a dove, but it did not split. Everyone was staring now. Camila’s group had killed it. Actually killed it. The white ribbon was within reach. Another dove was already flying towards the center.

This is my chance. He threw the Thorin-sphere, and it arced through the air. Almost. Almost. Please let this work.

A dove fell at his feet. Not the dove he was aiming for, but that didn’t matter. The Thorin-sphere was almost there. It struck the bird and absorbed it. Ezra’s heart beat faster and faster. I actually did it. We won. We’re going to pass. The orb was coming down. Not far from him. Just a few steps forward, and he would be able to reach it.

“Watch out!” Owen yelled.

Ezra’s focus snapped from the orb. A crowd of people rushed towards them from all sides. Everyone’s faces blurred. Too much was happening. He had to reach the Thorin-sphere. They’re going for the dove. His face turned white at the realization. The dove at my feet.

He reached down for the lifeless creature. A thousand cries roared through his head. Everyone stared at the dove, their one chance to pass, but all Ezra could see was Owen’s back, running red with blood.