Firebolt (The Dragonian Series Book 1)
Firebolt (The Dragonian, #1): Chapter 4

THE HALL WE entered was filled with students and the lecture had already begun. Becky and I crouched and walked to the second row, while the teacher scribbled on the blackboard back turned to the rows of students. As soon as we could, we slipped into the only two empty chairs next to each other.

The other students chuckled softly at our stealthy plan.

“Late again, Ms. Johnson?” the teacher asked in a brisk Irish accent.

“Thanks, you guys,” Becky said to the chortling students. Turning to look at me, she rolled her eyes dramatically.

“Welcome, Elena,” the teacher said, and turned around with a grin not meant to be ignored. I gave him a small smile back. “My name is Sir Edward. In this class you will learn Paegeia’s mysteries,” he said excitedly, and the whole class sighed. It felt as if the entire room was deflating with their obvious displeasure.

The teacher appeared much too young to be a professor, with honey-colored eyes and golden blond hair. He wore a pair of faded jeans and a black t-shirt with a tribal print design covering his chest. “Now, where were we?”

“You were telling us about the King of Lion Sword,” a boy with bulgy eyes and dark brown hair reminded him.

“Thank you, Trevor,” Sir Edward said. “The King of Lion Sword is the only sword that can slay evil too strong for non-magical weapons, especially dragons.”

I gasped.

“Not all dragons are good,” Becky whispered at my apparent discomfort.

“Why is this sword the only capable sword, Becky?” Sir Edward asked, and she shrank into her chair.

“It’s the only sword blessed by King William, a thousand years ago.” She’d clearly sucked the answer out of her thumb.

“Yes, and how did the sword get blessed?” he asked.

“Holy water,” she answered, and everyone laughed. Sir Edward smiled.

“No. Try to pay more attention, Ms. Johnson. Riley,” he called on a girl in the third row whose hand reached the highest.

She flipped her hair and gave Becky an I’m-smarter-than-you-are smile. “No one knows for sure, but there are plenty of ideas.”

“She’s a big know-it-all. A real toothache, if you ask me,” Becky whispered as Riley gave a breakdown of a million possibilities.

“Correct, Riley,” Sir Edward said.

“So we shouldn’t rule out holy water,” Becky chirped and the class broke out in laughter again.

“No, Becky, that one has been tested,” he said, ignoring her curled lip. “Who can tell me what the Japanese call it?”

The know-it-all, Riley, was the only one who knew the answer this time.

“Riley?”

“Shishiwo,” she said.

While she was answering, Becky was doing an accurate impersonation of Riley, and I had to suppress my laughter in order to not draw any more attention to us.

“Here, you deserve it.” Sir Edward tossed Riley a chocolate bar.

“Who can tell me how many King of Lion weapons we have?” he asked. This time everyone’s hands went up, except for mine.

“Charlie?” He pointed to a boy in the first row.

“One,” the boy said. “Now where’s my candy?”

Sir Edward chuckled and tossed him one too.

“So if something happens to the King of Lion, we’re basically screwed?” another boy asked.

“Don’t think of it that way. Hope is always near to those who believe. Besides, the sword is well protected in the city of Elm.” Turning from the front of the room Sir Edward started to walk my way. As he passed our row, he dropped a handbook on my desk. “Please, if you can open to page sixty-seven.”

On the page was a picture of a sword with the King of Lion written in small letters at the bottom.

An image of Excalibur popped in my head as I looked over the page. It had a golden hilt that curled up the divine blade with a lion’s head emblazoned on the hilt. The text below the image explained that Richard the Lion Heart once possessed the sword.

“The story we’re going to cover is the recovering of the King of Lion. The year 1320 BTW.”

I looked at Becky. “Before the Wall,” she whispered without taking her gaze from the book.

“A Japanese folk tale of danger, love, sacrifice, and adventure in the Daki islands,” Sir Edward began. “Around 1320, a samurai named Kalibi Shima was banished by a chieftain called Hio Tukituki. They exiled him to a small island called Yamasaki, of the Oki islands. Kalibi had an eighteen-year-old daughter, Kayatan, whom he loved very much.”

I became lost in his tale of a brave Kayatan who saved her father and slayed a dragon that was torturing the villagers. In return, the town gave her the King of Lion Sword. The story reminded me of the stories Dad used to tell me, but I just couldn’t seem to recall the details. Then my thoughts shifted to Dad saving my life. I could never have done what Kayatan had. My eyes welled up again. I should never have left him .

I jumped out of my seat as the bell rang and the students began packing up their books. Becky left her backpack open for my handbook and I gently placed it in with the rest of hers.

“On Monday, we’ll discuss the other Japanese legend, Yorimasa the Dragon Slayer.” Sir Edward’s voice echoed over the racket the students made as they exited the lecture hall.

“Come on, it’s time for Art of War,” Becky said, gripping my arm. Thank heavens she didn’t make a big fuss over my vanishing tears.

Back out in the hallway, students jostled in the narrow space, rushing and pushing against one another to get to their next class. On our way, we passed the cafeteria and ran to another door.

I squeezed through quickly as Becky struggled to keep the door open. Instead of more lecturing halls, in front of me stood acres of land with mountains rising in the distance. The view was breathtaking. My awe only lasted a minute, however, before I remembered the dragons and looked frantically to the skies. Becky’s gaze followed mine, with a confused expression on her face.

I sighed. So what if I found a dragon soaring through the sky? The faster I accept that dragons exist the better off I’ll be.

Lowering my gaze, I caught sight of students walking toward a coliseum similar to that in Rome—except this one hadn’t been left in ruins. Becky grabbed my arm and pulled me in the opposite direction toward a smaller, domed building.

Two huge stone dragons stood guard at the entrance as we walked through the door. A low grumble came from the one, and my head snapped to it. I glimpsed scales moving and closed my eyes quickly. It stopped. My mind was seriously starting to play games with me.

Then the stone dragon moved, and I watched with huge eyes as its stone head bowed down to mine and it took a big sniff. I froze.

“Grimdoe, stop it,” Becky said in a teasing tone. She laid her hands on his body and spoke words that sounded like Greek, and the statue moved back into its original place.

Becky laughed as she saw my expression then pulled me into the building.

“Some of the stone figures like to mess with the first years’ minds,” she said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for a statue to move.

I took another huge breath and waited for my heart to start beating again.

My eyes grew as I found a room similar to a sports arena, but instead of a basketball court or a running track, there were rows and rows of targets, with shields stacked against the right wall. In the corner of the room was a big wooden oak cupboard and bleachers stacked near the back.

The left wall held rows and rows of giant axes and spears, taller than I was, with thousands of helmets stacked underneath. Something Becky had said suddenly hit me. It made the stone dragon disappear from my mind within a millisecond and my heartbeat went crazy again. “When you said Art of War, you didn’t mean it literally, did you?”

She looked at me, confused. “Did you think I was referring to theories?” The one side of her lip arched slightly over her teeth. “That’s so boring!”

“We’re going to fight? I can’t fight!” The last part barely came out, but my feet finally did what I had wanted to do ever since I had come to Paegeia, and I scrambled toward the door, trying to exit the building as quickly as possible.

She pulled me back by my arm. “Relax Elena. It’s just practice.”

“The closest I’ve ever come to wielding a weapon is a steak knife at the dinner table.” My hands trembled, and I folded my arms to hide them from Becky.

She laughed. “You’re funny.”

I looked up again, still thinking of dragons, as we waited for our practice session to begin.

“What are you looking at?” Becky looked up at the ceiling too.

“Nothing,” I whispered, feeling like an idiot for always staring up at the sky.

“You’re so weird. Let’s go.” She led me to a small group of students huddled around a young woman.

“Elena,” a young girl greeted me.

“Hi, Professor Mia.” Becky said to the girl, who couldn’t have been much older than her students. She was stunning, with auburn hair and big blue eyes. Her smile seemed to light up the room, but I froze when I saw her swinging a real sword in her left hand. She looked so much like Xena, the Warrior Princess.

“Elena has a bit of stage fright. I don’t think they have classes like this on the other side,” Becky explained.

“You think?” the professor said in a sarcastic tone. “Not to worry, Elena. We’re not going to throw you into the deep end just yet. We’ll just take it one step at a time, okay?”

The corner of my mouth twitched as I tried desperately to hide my doubts that anything good was going to come out of me holding a weapon. Silently, I resigned myself to the reality that I was going to suck with a sword and would probably fail this class.

“Becky,” Professor Mia said, “go and get her some armor. We’ll take it from there.”

Becky gripped my arm again and pulled me over to the cupboard. We found an old safety vest that I barely caught when Becky tossed the thing to me. It reeked of old sweat, and I made involuntary gagging sounds. It smelled even worse when I tried to pull it over my head. When I finally surfaced I found Becky leaning against the cupboard with crisscrossed legs, laughing in total hysterics.

Standing up she regained control of herself and wiped away her tears. “Don’t worry, we’ll replace you one tomorrow in Elm that will fit,” she said, without looking at me.

The thing was double my size, and I knew I looked ridiculous. So much for first impressions.

Now I know how a stuffed animal feels .

“Becky, is it going to be today?” Professor Mia yelled, irritation lacing her voice.

Becky burst into laughter again, which was starting to annoy me. It got even worse when the class joined her.

“Comedy hour is finished. Get back to practice,” Professor Mia ordered, and Becky stopped.

I trembled as I listened to steel slamming against steel. It looked like total war out there.

I’m so not cut out for this.

I didn’t even have to try it once; I was going to be absolutely terrible.

“Is there any way I can drop this class?” I whispered to Becky, pleading with my eyes for any way out of this situation.

She snorted and tried desperately not to break out into laughter again. “Sorry.” She worked hard to keep a straight face. “No, it’s mandatory. Besides, how are you going to protect yourself, Elena?”

“From what?” I asked, but before Becky could burst out laughing again, I realized the answer. They were huge, had wings, and breathed fire. A typical David and Goliath story, only ten times worse.

“Give it a try. Who knows? You might love it,” she suggested, as if there were an alternative.

We reached Professor Mia slowly, who methodically made her way around the small room, wielding her sword with unbelievable precision. After a short and not very informative lesson from Becky, she placed a sword in my hand. It made me tip over like a bowling pin. Once I’d righted myself, I stared at it like an idiot and I could feel my eyes grow larger as I took in the metal blade.

“Becky, go spar with Collin,” Professor Mia ordered.

Becky left my side for the first time since we’d met.

“Elena, here.” Professor Mia touched my chin and turned my face to look into hers. “The first rule of combat is never to take your eyes off your opponent.”

CLASS WAS EXCRUCIATING. In ten minutes, every muscle and joint in my body was inflamed. Right before I thought I was going to pass out, Professor Mia mercifully stopped. She had made a mistake when she said that I would get better. I knew it, she knew it, and the unrelenting laughter emanating from the class indicated that the other students knew it. The second half of class, I rested on the bleachers. I was so exhausted I hardly had the strength to take off my vest.

Sitting alone, I watched the other students as they trained around the room. Becky was good. I felt sorry for her opponent. She even threw in a kick or two between the fierce blows of her sword. I now understood why they called wielding a weapon the art of dueling.

Thankfully, a bell rang in the distance and everyone stopped on Professor Mia’s command. The students walked with high spirits toward the wall to return their equipment. I tried to get up, but my body ached, and I fell back onto the bleachers in a huff.

I’m going to regret this in the morning.

Becky put her shield and helmet against the wall, and walked over to the cupboard to put away her sword. When she was finished, she ran over to me. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll live,” I said sulkily.

“You’ll see. It’s going to be your favorite class too. I don’t think there’s a student here who hates Art of War.” She gave me a hand up.

“Well, then I’m going to be the first. I’m definitely a lover, not a fighter,” I said, honesty coating every syllable.

She giggled, and pulled me toward the exit. We cleared the field back on our way to the main building.

“Can I ask you something?”

She nodded, carrying her sweaty vest over her shoulder.

“What happens if someone gets hurt?”

“Swallow Annexes are good at healing cuts and bruises,” Becky said simply, as if that offered any real explanation.

Swallow Annex? The term sounded Greek and dangerous, and I decided against asking for a translation. My legs burned as I started to climb the stairs that led to the big wooden door we had exited an hour ago. Each step sent a biting pain into my knees. To make matters worse, they didn’t want to bend properly, turning my balance into a big fat zero.

My gaze caught the huge structure straight out of ancient Rome on our far left. “What’s that?”

“It’s the coliseum.”

“Do they fight there too?”

She huffed. “You could say that.”

“What do they call the one we were just in?”

“The Parthenon Dome.”

“Does everything in this country start with a P?”

She snorted and hit me playfully with her sweaty vest.

We went up to the room, so I could take a quick shower before lunch. Once I’d slipped off my sweaty clothes, I tried to enjoy the sanctuary of the shower, but the grumbling in my stomach hastened my usual routine. Finishing quickly, I joined Becky in the main bedroom and we made our way to the cafeteria.

When I entered the outdoor lunch area, the first thing I noticed was more magic. One of the boys played with real fire in his hands. It was in the form of a small animal that ran through his fingers, underneath another and slipped over the next. Another boy zapped a girl’s ass with a bolt of soft lightning. She cried out softly, jumped around and slapped him as hard as she could, which made his friends laugh. Becky pulled my arm again, and I had to look twice as we passed another girl who frosted some berries with her breath. I couldn’t stop gawking at all these people and I got a few glares back as if I was invading their privacy.

I got dragged behind Becky like a star-struck idiot as we made our way to the buffet line stationed below huge oak trees. I regained myself as I kept saying over in my head that I had to deal with this like a normal person, even though nothing about what I had just seen was normal.

Behind the buffet line stood a man with a huge stomach who was dressed in a chef’s uniform. Dad had always said nobody trusts a skinny chef, and I laughed to myself. His hair had the same copper glint as Dad’s had and the smell of his food made my mouth water.

“Chef, this is the new girl, Elena,” Becky introduced.

“Elena, I was wondering when you were going to join the living,” he teased.

“So, what are we having today?” she asked.

“Rice and fresh vegetables with a lovely roast beef.” He sighed in satisfaction. I giggled as he somehow reminded me of my dad, and for a short second I forgot what it was I had seen a few minutes ago.

“Urgh! Nobody got the riddle yesterday?” Becky mumbled.

“No, have you seen today’s?” he asked playfully.

She waved it away. “It’s too difficult anyway.”

He laughed at her apparent frustration and turned his gaze onto me. “Are you good at riddles, Elena?”

I shook my head. “Sorry.” Dad used to ask me riddles almost daily as well, and I never knew any of their answers.

“Not to worry, Riley will have to choose your menu then.”

“Miss-know-it-all gets most of the riddles right, and then we get pasta, pasta, and oh, what’s that other thing she likes so much?” Becky asked the chef.

“Pasta!” they both replied in unison. I smiled at their bickering, and started to miss Dad horribly.

After we dished up, we waved goodbye and made our way to a group of tables teeming with students. I could still see some playing with fire and other elements out of the corner of my eye, but decided to make peace with this reality as soon as possible and focus my energy on familiar things, like conversation.

“Let me get this straight. Whoever solves the riddle can choose what we have to eat?” I asked Becky, as she was looking over the heads of other students for an open table.

“Yeah, every day a new one gets posted on the board,” she said, without taking her gaze from the search. “Occasionally, one of the other kids guesses right, and then we get burgers and fries, or hot dogs and pizza.”

Awesome! I tried to imagine what kind of pizza this chef could create. My mouth started watering just thinking about it, and I couldn’t wait to dig in.

To our left, two guys suddenly stood up from a table, and Becky made a run for it.

As we slipped into the chairs, my eyes locked on a guy sitting four tables away from us. Something inside my stomach twirled as I gawked at him playing absentmindedly with a soda can. He sat with a group of six other guys, though he clearly stood out. His raven black hair was in perfect accord with his sun-kissed skin. A strange feeling that I had never felt before began to boil inside my gut. I would soon learn that staring at him would be the biggest mistake of my life.