Everything had gone according to plan until the headmaster decided to block the shortcut with a dragon.
The beast exhaled, a long, rasping growl of breath that shivered through the air and sent smoke curling toward the thick gray clouds that scudded across the sky.
Javan forced himself to breathe as well. Fear out. Courage in.
This was just another test. Another way to make sure that only the truly deserving wore the crimson sash at tomorrow’s commencement ceremony.
Doubtless there was another equally daunting obstacle blocking the others on the main path. Javan shoved all thoughts of his friends and fellow competitors from his mind and focused on the problem of getting past the beast.
The dragon beat its wings, slowly at first, and then shale began sliding down the hill as the beast picked up speed. Every flap of its wings was a leathery slap of sound that sent a chill over Javan’s skin.
He had no weapons. They were forbidden between tasks.
He had no allies. He’d left them behind on the main road.
He had nothing but his instincts and his brain.
That didn’t seem like enough to best a dragon the size of a small house, but the headmaster wouldn’t have allowed it to be here if he didn’t believe his students already had the skills to beat it.
Fear out.
Courage in.
Javan looked away from the dragon to quickly scan the area, forcing himself to catalog his options as the dragon’s talons scraped the rocky precipice, sending chunks of rock tumbling past the prince.
He needed a weapon. He needed shelter.
He needed a way through the hills to the fifth task before one of his classmates got to the sash first.
His list of options was pitifully short. There were plenty of small pieces of shale. There were rocks ranging from fist-size to ones as large as a carriage. There was the hill in front of him, but no tunnels that could offer safety while keeping the dragon at bay. And there was Javan himself with his tunic, his boots, his pants, and his belt.
His belt.
The dragon rose, blocking the pale sun, its immense shadow swallowing Javan whole.
The prince was out of time. Whipping off his tunic, he leaned down and scraped a hand through the shale until he found a piece sharp enough to cut his skin. He scooped it up along with a few rocks the size of pomegranates. The dragon’s roar shattered the air above him, and Javan’s heart thudded as he dumped the rocks onto the center of his tunic, tied the sleeves into a makeshift knapsack, and then scrambled for the incline that led to the hill’s precipice.
Doubtless the dragon would try to block Javan. He’d just have to find a way to distract it or fend it off long enough to get through the pass.
The dragon dove for him, the air whistling past its body as fire poured from its mouth.
Yl’ Haliq be merciful, the dragon wasn’t just trying to block his progress. It was trying to burn him.
Javan leaped to the side, crashing onto the shale as the fire seared his left arm. The dragon slammed into the ground beside him, sending a wave of rocks skidding down the rest of the hill.
Terror lanced Javan, bold and bright. Fragments of prayer tumbled from his lips as he reached for his tunic full of rocks with shaking fingers. The beast wasn’t trying to stop Javan. It was trying to kill him.
Javan lunged forward, grabbing sharp outcroppings to haul himself over the slippery ground, his breath sobbing in his lungs as he whispered a prayer for deliverance.
The outcroppings sliced into his hands, and soon his palms were slick with blood. The dragon’s wings swept the air, and Javan had to brace himself to keep from being flattened by the gusts of wind that hit him.
As the dragon rose into the air once more, Javan forced himself to reach. To climb.
To hurry.
The precipice was three body lengths away.
The dragon was circling overhead, smoke pouring from its nostrils.
“Yl’ Haliq, save your faithful servant,” Javan breathed as he dug deep for more speed. More strength. As he tried to push the blinding terror into the corner of his mind so he could think.
The dragon’s roar thundered as Javan’s bloody hands closed over the spiny ridge of the hill. The prince pulled his legs under his chest, planted his boots against the shifting shale beneath him, and leaped.
Fire exploded against the side of the hill as Javan cleared the ridge and landed on the narrow flat strip of the hill’s precipice. Throwing his makeshift knapsack to the ground, the prince tore the knot loose and grabbed the sharp piece of shale. Four quick slices and he ripped a patch of fabric the size of his hand from the bottom of his tunic.
The dragon dove toward him. Javan threw himself forward, skidding on his hands and knees as the beast’s talons dug into the ground, leaving long gashes where the prince had been crouched.
Javan’s hands shook as he flattened the square of fabric and gouged a slim tear into two opposite sides of the patch. Above him, the dragon flew into the air and began circling. The prince grabbed the braided cord of his belt, unwound it from his waist, and shoved one end through the tear in the right side of the patch. The dragon’s roar shook the ground.
Fear wrapped around Javan’s chest and squeezed. Hastily pushing the end of his belt through the other tear, he centered the patch in the middle of the corded rope while the dragon dove.
This time, Javan didn’t move fast enough. The beast’s great leathery wing collided with the prince and sent him spinning toward the edge of the precipice. Javan dug into the ground with his elbows and feet, his hands still clutching the slingshot he’d fashioned.
The beast flew into the air and circled back.
Javan jumped to his feet and dove toward the cache of rocks sitting in the middle of his ruined tunic.
Smoke gushed from the dragon’s mouth and hurtled toward the prince with every flap of the creature’s wings.
Javan’s hand closed around a rock, and he centered it in the piece of tunic even as he spun to face the dragon’s next assault.
There would be no time to dive out of the way if he missed.
The dragon roared.
Javan pulled the rock back with one hand until the cord of his rope belt was taut.
With an enormous whoosh of smoky air, the beast locked eyes on the prince and came straight toward him.
He was going to die.
The words chased one another inside his head as his stomach dropped and his knees shook. He was going to die, and he’d never been to a tavern or kissed a girl or seen pride in his father’s eyes.
Terror threatened to turn Javan’s limbs to stone as the dragon closed in, and he forced himself to breathe.
Fear out.
Courage in.
Flames gathered in the back of the dragon’s throat.
Javan leaned his weight onto his back leg, stared at the space between the dragon’s eyes, and let the rock fly as fire began pouring from the beast’s mouth.
The flames rushed for Javan as the rock sailed through them and struck the dragon’s left eye.