Gwenevere's Game

8

Eliza sensed that something was wrong the moment she woke up. 

She wasn't exactly sure what was wrong yet, but she was certain that something was wrong.

Upon opening her eyes, she surveyed the single room of the cottage. However, at first glance, nothing appeared out of the ordinary other than the fact that the fire in the fireplace continued to burn despite never having had it's tinder restocked.

Maybe Gwenevere added some wood, she considered.

Then it hit her.

Gwenevere.

She whipped around, jumping off the child's bed that she had fallen asleep on in a sitting position the other night— her back aching in protest to that mistake as she stood. Looking around, she saw that there was indeed no little girl anywhere in the small room— unless she had stuffed herself into the clothes chest, but Eliza saw that as highly unlikely— and so she opted to look outside.

Bursting through the carved wooden door, remembering only to grab her shield before she jumped out into the woods— just in case some monster lay lurking just outside— she held it defensively as she scanned the trees.

But the trees merely, deceitfully beautiful, swayed in the slight breeze, letting golden dawn light filter through their translucent leaves.

She furrowed her brow. Where could the girl have gone? She thought for a moment before realization struck her.

Caerwyn.

She's gone looking for Caerwyn.

She was about to charge off into the forest, when she recalled the bread knife still inside the cottage. If I'm going out into these woods, potentially after a dragon, I'm going to want a knife.

Even if it's meant for cutting bread and not dragon scales.

Turning around, she pushed on the door. Yet to her surprise, it didn't give in. She pressed harder against the door, but only ended up with a splinter in her palm to show for her efforts.

Wincing at the slight pain as a bead of blood welled on her palm, she turned away from the door in frustration. So much for that bread knife.

Leaning against the stubborn door, she help her palm up to pull out the splinter.

And something caught her eye.

The quickly-drying blood that beaded around the splinter and slowly traveled into her palm was not scarlet. It wasn't red at all.

It was blue.

Cobalt, with a hint of cerulean.

But it was definitely her blood.

What the... She sighed. That's not important right now. What is is finding Gwenevere. Forcing herself back on track, she tried to think of the most likely direction for the girl to have gone.

She's looking for Caerwyn.

Caerwyn.

Suddenly she remembered the lullaby that she had sung to Gwenevere last night.

Once there was a dragon...

His name was Caerwyn...

"Caerwyn's a dragon," she murmured aloud, the realization blowing up in her face. She knew that there were dragon warriors, another race of competitors. Caerwyn could be a teammate of hers, and he's a dragon warrior.

But it didn't seem right. How did Gwenevere have a house after only a day in the competition? Why would she have a lullaby about a follow competitor?

Her heart skipped a beat.

What if Gwenevere isn't a competitor?

And if that was so...

Caerwyn is the white dragon.

That would certainly make sense of why she was banging on the cliff and calling to a dragon in a rather suicidal fashion yesterday, she reasoned. "That must be..." She murmured aloud. "That must be how this tournament works. We don't have to kill others or be the last one standing..." 

We just have to follow the clues.

And right now, she had the first two. She knew that Caerwyn was the white dragon...

And if you sang this song to him...

He'd fly you up away...

That was it. That was how she would get to the gate. She had to find the white dragon... Sing to him... And hope that he would carry her up to the gate instead of eating her.

Foolproof. Mostly.

Now I just have to figure out where to find the dragon.

That one didn't require nearly as much thinking. Well... Most likely back guarding the gate.

Decided, she pushed away from the door and started back along the way she had followed Gwenevere to the cottage from the arena border. Treading lightly on the sun-dappled, cheery grasses and mosses below, she tried her best to recall the route, which looked frustratingly different in the early dawn hours than it did in the shadows of twilight.

Luckily, a thousand-foot tall cliff wasn't that hard to find, and with rare glances from gaps in the canopy, she was able to correct her course and reach her destination within the hour.

It looked just the same as it had the other day: Gargantuan cliff, gate peeking over the top, and white dragon's tail draping over the edge. The only thing different now was the lack of a certain small child.

Her heart raced inside her chest, thudding so hard that she was certain that she could hear her pulse in her head. Cold dread formed in her belly, making her stop short before she could leave the cover of the trees.

There was the dragon.

The same one that had murdered Ajax.

She closed her eyes and leaned against a nearby tree. "Do not blame yourself for Ajax's death," Zola had told her.

How she wished that Zola was here now.

No, she told herself. It's better that she is not here, so that she does not also pay the price if this turns out to be a terrible idea that results in me ending up as lunch.

But she could still imagine what Zola would say if she were here, as plainly as if the knight stood there with her. Ajax would want me to continue on, to beat this arena, to face the dragon.

For perhaps in some way, if she could defeat this arena, she would be avenging Ajax.

With that goal in mind, she stepped out into the open.

~~~~~

Bit of a short chapter here... But things are picking up! We'll also be seeing some familiar faces pretty soon... 

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