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Chapter 22 - Battle - Part 1

Chapter 22 - Battle - Part 1

It took some time for the crowd to settle. After many reassurances from the King, the initial terror gave way to an atmosphere of morbid curiosity.

As an extra precaution, the audience was moved to cluster along the mid and upper level balconies, ushered by Rangers and palace staff.

Eager to find the Sisters amongst the chaos, Penelope moved through the throng with Steph in tow, slowly making their way back downstairs.

Failing to find the Sisters among the crowd moving to the upper level, they wended against the flow of guests until they stood at the lip of the grand staircase leading down to the ballroom floor.

By the time Penelope and Steph arrived on the landing, most of the crowd had jostled into position, staking claims for the best view of what was to come.

The crowd was thick and buzzing with anxious anticipation as Penelope searched for familiar faces. At last, she locked eyes with the Sisters, standing on the mid level balcony running along the left side of the hall, the crowd too dense to join them.

Sister Rosin gave an exuberant wave, bouncing up and down, as Sister Heely smiled with watering eyes. Their relief was palpable even from this distance. Penelope returned their smiles, her gut churning with guilt at having worried them so.

It took longer for Penelope to spy her parents and her younger sister where they stood whispering amongst themselves on the balcony along the right of the hall, overlooking the very centre of the ballroom floor.

The King and Queen of Grimwood, along with their other sons, remained on the throne dais. They looked all the more forbidding, standing beyond the double guard of Rangers and the ghost of a dragon imprisoned in a sphere of crystal.

As Penelope watched, the Queen lifted her chin in their direction and she felt Steph shuffle in place beside her.

“Do you have to go?” Penelope asked.

“Oh no, Princess, you’re not getting rid of me now.” Steph grinned down at her, a small crooked smile, though his posture was stiff with apprehension.

Penelope grinned back. “I wouldn’t dream to try.”

Steph made a gesture towards the Queen, a deferential nod and a sheepish sort of wave. The Queen smiled and nodded with what seemed to be playful magnanimity.

The Queen then turned her gaze to Penelope, who struggled not to fidget under her narrow-eyed scrutiny. Penelope breathed a sigh of relief when the Queen at last turned her attention to one of her younger sons.

“She loves you!” Steph beamed and Penelope giggled uncertainly.

Eager to find a place to stand that was less exposed than the open stairway, yet reluctant to navigate the crowds further along the balcony, Penelope moved to rest her elbows atop the platform railing beside the staircase. Penelope felt Steph move to stand at her side, placing a hand on the small of her back.

In silence, they watched Prince Ethan stalk around the pit. He rolled his shoulders like a caged animal, swinging his club in sharp, practised arcs, clearly preparing for battle.

Along the length of his left arm was a sharp, wing-shaped shield made of a smooth black material that gleamed like a beetle’s shell. As Ethan flexed his arm upwards, long strips of the rigid material fanned out, articulating like feathers that flared to shield Ethan from head to toe.

Steph’s fingers curled into Penelope’s back as they watched.

“I have half a mind to march down there and shake Ethan until he comes to his senses,” Steph muttered. “What is he thinking?”

Unable to answer, Penelope pressed herself closer to Steph’s side in a gesture of comfort.

“Friends!” King Edrick called for attention and the murmuring crowd fell quiet. “Now that we are gathered again, please allow me to assure you once more that you are in no danger tonight. Those runes”—the King gestured to the lines of light crossing the floor of the pit—“ensure that the dragon can not escape the confines of the arena.”

The King stepped down from the dais and strode towards the outermost circle of Rangers. An attendant rushed to meet him and pressed a small torch of silver flame into his hand.

The King knelt down and touched the torch to the floor, where another complex web of etchings illuminated with lines of silver light, spreading to enclose the guard of Rangers.

The King passed the torch back to the attendant, who returned to his station at a nearby alcove. Rising, the King gestured grandly at the new pattern of lines.

“These runes ensure that no ghost, ghoul, fae, nor any other manner of wraith, may cross this threshold. Stationed before you are our most prodigious Rangers, trained in the newest arts of spectral combat.

“They wield weapons, shields, armour, and alchemy of entirely new craft which not only subdue the phantom nature of our enemy, but harness this same power against them!”

Soft cries of awe rippled through the crowd and the King stepped back to the dais, taking seat on his throne beside his wife, who observed the proceedings with a straight back and stony expression. Though the Queen’s face seemed impassive, her eyes were aflame. Whether with fear or anticipation, Penelope couldn’t say.

“What is this madness?” Steph hissed from Penelope’s side. She peered up at him, his face pale and drawn with distress. “He’s going to get himself killed.”

Penelope squeezed his hand tight and touched her head to his shoulder, her heart in her throat as she turned to watch Ethan step towards the sphere with purpose.

“Prepare!” King Edrick shouted.

Abruptly, the outer circle of Rangers facing the emptied ballroom floor spun on their heels to face inwards, bucklers raised towards the pit.

Motion along the upper balconies caught Penelope’s eye. Stationed in sections cleared of guests, standing beside flaming braziers of silver fire, Rangers raised short bows notched with arrows. Though their strings remained slack, the archers’ sights were fixed on the pit below.

“BEGIN!” the King cried.

With a great swing, Ethan struck the crystal with the sharpened tip of his club. The sound of shattering quartz echoed through the hall as the sphere burst into shards, crumbling to white sand as they scattered across the floor.

The dragon unfurled itself in fluid motions, shaking out its long, ethereal fins like a cat recoiling from water.

Its snout was rounded, much like a snake, and the spiked scales of its long, serpentine body were translucent as moonlight. Beneath the frosted transparence of the creature’s skin writhed countless globes of misty colours; liquid golds, brilliant fuchsias, and burning corals spun together like schools of carp as the beast stretched and flexed its bright silver claws.

Penelope felt a wave of pressure roll through her bones and the hall fell unearthly quiet as the dragon growled. The soundless thunder rumbled through Penelope’s chest in a way that was all too familiar.

Beneath it, Penelope could feel the faint siren chorus of the ferrifae, a gentle tugging harmony that swelled as the dragon bristled.

Ethan poised himself on the balls of his feet, shield tucked against his side, as the dragon swung to face him.

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The dragon’s ghostly lights flared with warning, and Ethan raised his shield as the dragon unleashed a great volley of silver flame.

While Ethan was braced against the heat of the fire, flames splashing to either side of the raised wing, the gnashing creature attempted to scrabble out of the pit. The Rangers held their bucklers higher as the dragon approached, the contained ferrifae twisting in frantic swirls.

The dragon shrank away from the sirens, even as the creature rolled its body against an invisible edge that it could not breach. Light sparked along the etched runes with each fruitless attempt at escape.

The beast fluttered its gossamer wings, attempting to lift from the ground, yet it strained as if against a great weight mere feet above the floor.

The dragon growled in heaving fury, the violent press of its silent cries diminishing all other sound in the hall until Penelope felt as though she were submerged in water.

Though this dragon was smaller by far than the one which had burst from the Tears, it was quick and fearsome. Unable to retreat, it spat fire from its maw towards the invisible wall it could not breach, flames like mercury washing against the runic barrier.

Trapped and hissing in distress, the ghostly creature crouched low to the ground, coiling about itself as Ethan stalked towards it with the lithe gait of a hunter.

The dragon swiped out long silver claws, snapping its teeth and lashing its long, glowing tails as Ethan spun, rolled, and dodged with fluid athleticism.

Though the crowd was open mouthed and shouting at the battle below, the sound was dampened and distant as the hall was filled with wave after rolling wave of the dragon’s mute roars.

By her side, Penelope could feel Steph trembling. Entwining her fingers with his, Steph squeezed hard enough to be painful, yet Penelope held tight.

Penelope’s skin felt chilled and clammy, hairs raising along her arms as she watched Ethan slash at the dragon’s form with both club and shield. Swirling clumps of colours dislodged from the dragon’s neck and chest as Ethan matched assault for assault. The colours fell to the marble floor, where they pooled like glimmering clouds.

Baring his teeth, Ethan holstered his club and withdrew a small phial from his belt. Hoisting it towards the dragon, it shattered against its flank, exploding in a burst of rainbow-tinged flame. The blast tore a hole in the creatures side, colours spilling from the wound like a tide before the creatures flank reformed. Ethan recoiled as burning sparks landed on his bracer, scorching the leather.

Yet the prince grinned in victory as the dragon’s movements became sluggish, its silent roars dimming to purring mews of misery that wrenched Penelope’s heart.

Ethan shielded another spout of flame, though it was weaker than before, and the dragon ruffled its plumes in agitation. The beast snapped its teeth, unwilling to yield even as it cringed against the edge of the barrier. Ethan approached with the bearing of a predator and a lethal grin.

Pools of roiling colours swam about his ankles as he waded through the mist towards the contorted beast. He hurled another explosive phial at the dragon’s side, spilling yet more colours from its waning form.

Penelope felt ill to watch, yet could not bring herself to look away.

At the centre of the dragon’s chest Penelope could now see a shining ball of silver, much like that of the elk in the woods, only larger and brighter.

The colours remaining in the dragon’s sheer body swam tightly around the beating silver light, as though shielding it.

The dragon attempted yet another burst of fire in Ethan’s direction, but only managed a weak string of flame that Ethan sidestepped with ease.

Ethan raised the sharp edge of his wing, poised to slash, when the dragon sprang forward with unexpected speed, catching the wing’s tip between its teeth.

Wresting the wing from Ethan’s arm, the dragon swung its head and launched the shield towards him. Ethan rolled aside as it flew over his head, hurtling past the runic barrier towards the Rangers behind him.

The Rangers braced behind their bucklers as the shield spun towards the inner circle. Its sharp edge clipped the buckler of a Ranger who stood angled towards the throne dais. Penelope watched as the wing bounced from the Ranger’s shield and fell back into the pit.

Several things happened then in rapid succession.

The faceted quartz in the Ranger’s buckler shattered with the impact, releasing its ferrifae. Penelope flinched back as the twisting, pearly light latched onto the Ranger’s shoulder.

Penelope couldn’t see his face as he fell to his knees, screaming in agony, the sound muffled and unreal. As the ferrifae spun and danced, the song of its siren call now so much more compelling, small strips of colour tore away from the Ranger’s arm and the side of his neck. Glittering streams of orange, blue, and tawny gold flowed to the marble floor, spilling into the pit below.

Rangers either side of the fallen soldier moved quickly and efficiently. Withdrawing clear quartz crucibles from their belts, one Ranger ensnared the ferrifae, while the others recaptured some of the coloured lights that had spilled from the Ranger’s arm. The injured Ranger hunched over himself, cradling his arm and groaning in pain.

Rangers from the outer circle stepped forward, dragging the incapacitated Ranger away from danger, as another stepped smoothly into place, the inner circle intact once more.

During the commotion, the dragon had skittered around the arena. Taking advantage of Ethan’s momentary distraction, the creature sucked down the colours swirling across the floor, both its own and those of the Ranger’s now mixed with the dragon’s lights.

As the colourful globes of mist passed down the creature’s gullet, the lights raged like a storm, once again shrouding the silver light of its ghostly heart.

Jarred back into action and ignoring the activity of the encircling Rangers, Ethan rolled across the floor to reclaim his wing. He raised it just in time to fend off a vicious burst of billowing fire followed by another sharp snap of its maw.

Ethan spun with a snarl on his lips. He began hurling phial after fiery phial at the dragon, relentless and without mercy, until the pit was once more drenched in bleeding colours. The creature’s form, at last, dissipated to nothing, exposing a small, pulsing star of thready silver.

Marching across the pit, his hard steps kicking up whirls of glittering mist, Ethan withdrew an oil-black crucible from his belt. Opening the lid, he entrapped the dragon’s still-beating light within, slamming the lid into place with a feral show of teeth.

Though sound had returned to the hall with the dragon’s demise, the unnatural pressure lifting from Penelope’s lungs, the hall remained quiet but for the rustle of silks, laboured breathing, and grunts of pain from the injured Ranger.

As the circling Rangers began to descend into the pit, collecting the dragon’s spilled lights in their own crucibles, the audience began to applaud. Soon the hall was filled with deafening cheers and thunderous clapping at the realisation that a dragon, a dragon, had been defeated in single-handed combat.

Penelope felt her breath catch in her throat, heart hammering with fear, relief, shock, and sorrow as the Rangers captured all the dragon’s stolen lights, entrapping them within containers of flashing quartz.

Her mind spun, giddy and detached, as she watched the pit rise upwards, coming to rest seamlessly level with the ballroom floor once again. Ethan held his prize aloft in victory to resounding cries of admiration from the crowded balconies.

Steph’s breathing was ragged beside her, his body held taut as he watched his brother approach the King, kneeling to present the crucible to his Liege.

King Edrick appeared to wipe tears from his face as he gripped his son’s shoulder, leaning down to whisper in Ethan’s ear.

Ethan’s shoulders shook as he bowed his head, before King Edrick accepted the crucible and Ethan rose to stand by his side, smiling broadly. The Queen moved to cradle Ethan’s face in her hands, lifting the bone mask from his eyes and pressing kisses to both his cheeks before resting their foreheads together.

“Ethan...” Steph breathed, his voice hoarse. He moved towards the stairs, Penelope trailing behind.

Though he could not have heard Steph across the din of the hall, Ethan spun to lock eyes with his younger brother, grinning with fierce pride. Jogging across the hall to meet Steph at the bottom of the stairs, Ethan flung his arms around his younger brother, lifting him into a spin.

“Did you see, little brother? Do you understand now?”

“Ethan, I...” Steph stepped back and placed his hands on Ethan’s shoulders, staring into his face until the older prince began to look uncertain. “I’m so glad you’re okay, don’t ever do anything that stupid ever again or I’ll lock you in the catacombs until the stars burn out.”

“That’s usually my line,” Ethan chuckled wetly into Steph’s shoulder, clutching him tightly.

“Did you get hurt?” Steph asked, reaching for Ethan’s arm. “Let me see.”

“It’s barely anything,” Ethan dismissed, twisting his arm behind his back. “It’s nothing at all.”

Another Ranger strode over, wearing a birdlike mask etched with constellations.

“Nothing is it?” he said, voice wry, as he pinched Ethan’s arm. The prince tried, and failed, to hide a grimace of pain. “I’m sure Melody will believe that.” The Ranger pulled Ethan into a kiss, teeth clacking as they smiled against each other.

“Oh ho, you’re in trouble now, I guess I’ll just leave you two fools to explain this utter mess to Melody, though why she even allowed either of you to engage in this, this—”

“Hush, little brother,” Ethan murmured, pulling Steph into another bone crunching hug as the younger prince’s shoulders shook with sobs. “All is safe now.”

Penelope lingered on the staircase, unwilling to interrupt the moment, when a harsh scream of pain echoed from the edge of the hall.

Steph turned to look over his brother’s shoulder, catching sight of the injured Ranger laid out on the ground being tended by robed figures.

“Callum?!” Steph shouted. Twisting away from his brother Steph sprinted towards the fallen Ranger, who was now coughing blood as the figures worked frantically to heal him.