CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
THE SHOW OF STRENGTH
All in all, it wasn’t too bad, thought Alistair. At least the dragon didn’t eat them right away. No, like all those higher up on the food chain, dragons liked to play with their dinner first. And they were definitely dragon dinner.
These dragons hadn’t eaten in a long time.
The one who found him was practically salivating. “Yer a little one, but ye’ll do,” said the dragon.
The three of them had fallen in different places in the Deep, but each had been caught by a dragon and placed with the others in some kind of holding cell overlooking a vast cavern. At least they were all together.
Filomena was a little spooked, Jack weary, and Alistair—well, to be honest, he was just one moment away from COMPLETELY FREAKING OUT. But he was holding it in. This was worse than just popping out of existence for a moment and then popping back. That experience was odd. This one is just spine-chilling. Is it terrible that he doesn’t want to be eaten? That’s a reasonable goal, isn’t it?
The dragon—the one who brought Filomena—comes back and regards the three of them thoughtfully.
“Supplicants to the Deep, your presence is uninvited and undesired; however, it is not unappreciated. You raise the old treaty between the Deep and the Above, between dragon and fairy. Our council has decided to honor that treaty.”
Yay! mouths Alistair.
Jack kicks him in the shin. “Shhhh.”
The dragon looks annoyed to have been interrupted and snorts a plume of smoke in their faces.
“We shall provide aid that can only be provided by the Deep. However: You must earn our protection and assistance by proving your worth in a Game of Threes.”
“How convenient, since there are three of us,” Alistair mutters.
Jack kicks him again.
The dragon pretends not to have noticed this time. “Each of you must pass your challenge, or help is forfeit, as are your lives. The Deep shall take its due.”
The dragon disappears, leaving them alone in the darkness once more.
“The Game of Threes, the Game of Threes,” says Filomena. “I can’t remember—but I feel like it has to be in the books somewhere. I just don’t remember how to win.” She’s fretting and tearing through the books she has in her backpack. “I should have brought all twelve of them, but they wouldn’t fit.”
“There’s no way,” says Alistair. “We’re dinner. I hope I’m tasty.”
Jack walks over to Filomena and steadies her hand, closing the book. “The answer’s not in there. Don’t worry. It’s a game. Which means there’s a way to win. There’s always a way to win. That’s why it’s called a game. Dragons hate cheaters more than they hate visitors. They won’t cheat. We can win fair and square, get them to help us, and get out of here.”
“Oh,” says Filomena, looking at Jack with clear admiration.
“You can do this, Alistair,” says Jack. “You can win.”
Alistair gulps. It was so easy to believe in his friends, so much harder to believe in himself.
When the dragon returns, he nods at Alistair.
“Me?” he squeaks.
“Alistair Bartholomew Barnaby,” says the dragon. “You have been chosen to perform the Show of Strength.”
“Me?” Alistair squeaks again. He wonders how the dragon knew his name, but then, dragons know many things.
“Come,” the dragon orders.
“Good luck,” whispers Filomena.
“Remember, there is always a way to win,” says Jack, holding out a fist as he’d seen the mortals do.
Alistair pounds it. “Right.”
Alistair follows the dragon out toward the open arena floor. He’s trying to be brave, but he’s never been brave. That’s the whole point of being Jack Stalker’s best friend: You didn’t have to be brave or courageous or fearless; you can just hide behind Jack. That’s what Alistair is good at, hiding. Why is there nowhere to hide right now? And why was he picked first? He put up a brave front for Jack and Filomena, but in reality, he is terrified.
They’re in the arena now, and he can see Jack and Filomena up at the cave where they were imprisoned. They’re craning their necks and looking down to see him. Jack waves, and Filomena gives a thumbs-up.
The rocky arena is completely empty, and the dragon flies away to the other end, where three dragons are sitting on dragon thrones. They must be the council.
“The test of strength shall now begin!” a voice booms from overhead. “We wish you bad luck and ill fortune. However, if you pass the Show of Strength, you will be one step closer to earning our munificence.”
Alistair quakes in his boots.
The ground beneath him rumbles, and to Alistair’s horror, the very earth breaks open and dozens of sharp stalagmites rise up from the cavern floor like puncturing spikes in varying sizes and thicknesses. Behind him rises a cage holding an angry-looking dragon. The dragon spies Alistair and releases a howl of fire and rage.
Alistair screams and steps back, almost tripping over a stalagmite. It’s clear he has to make his way past the spikes to get away from the dragon, whose cage slowly begins to open.
He turns back to the sharp rocks. Is he supposed to budge them? How? They’re solid limestone. He was chosen for this because he’s weak, he knows. Then he stops himself. Sure, he’s not as brave as Jack or as smart as Filomena, but neither of them is gifted with strength, either. Maybe he’s not as weak as he thinks.
Think, Alistair, think.
He keeps pushing at the rocks. Nothing.
What can he do?
Behind him, he can hear the cage door creaking slowly as it opens. But he can’t give in to the fear. It will blind him. He can’t give in to the fear. He has to focus.
Maybe if he kicks them? He kicks one of the smaller stalagmites, to no avail. His frustration is growing. He looks at the obstacle, side to side, in its entirety. He tries to climb through the stalagmites, but there are too many, and his shirt snags on one and tears. There’s no way this is going to work.
He moves from column to column, pulling and pushing and trying to break or shift the obstacles.
The caged dragon hisses and lets out a blazing breath, the flames licking the walls around them.
Alistair screams again, covering his head. But he’s still in one piece. He’s got to think! He’s got to figure this out! Then he hears Jack’s voice in his head: It’s a game … There’s always a way to win.
Then he sees it: a boulder. A round boulder. And when he looks at the stalagmites, he’s reminded of something he saw in the mortal world. A game mortals played, in the building where there were bins outside full of—what did Filomena call it? Trash pizza.
Inside, the mortals rolled the ball toward standing pins of some sort, and the pins crashed. It was a game. The pins looked a lot like the spikes in front of him now.
Alistair races for the boulder, hoping against all odds that he’s able to lift it, or at least roll it. He’s out of breath, panting and wheezing, as he runs. He grabs the boulder and calculates that if he can roll it from a slight incline in the arena, it will have enough momentum and strength to crash through the spikes. Determination gives him the last bit of strength he needs as he pushes the rock up the slope.
With one last grunt, he shoves the boulder as hard as he can from the top of the incline, sending it rolling down toward the stalagmites. It picks up speed as it rolls, hurtling into the middle of the spikes.
With a crashing sound, the first bunch of stalagmites break apart and fall.
Alistair hears his friends cheering him on as he races toward the spikes to grab the boulder among the rubble and then begins to roll it back up the slight hill to start over again. He sends it plummeting downhill toward the stalagmites, aiming for the same spot where he’d knocked down the first grouping.
The boulder rolls toward the spikes, picking up pace once more as it heads straight for his intended target, and it knocks down several more stalagmites. The crumbling columns crash down into rubble, and light emerges from where they’d just been blocking the path.
The dragon roars in frustration as Alistair runs through the path and out of the arena to safety.
When he looks back, the dragon’s cage door shuts with a bang.
Alistair swings his fist in the air triumphantly.
“Congratulations,” hisses a booming voice, just as Filomena and Jack pop out of the tunnel and run to hug Alistair.
“Oh my ogre! I did it! I really did it!” he yells.
“You did!” says Filomena. “You really did!”
Jack thumps him on his back. “I knew you would!”
The booming voice bellows again, clearly unmoved. “You may go on to the next challenge. Please make your way through the path to see what danger lies ahead.”
And just like that, their relief morphs back into fear as they realize they still have two challenges left to determine their survival. They step over the stalagmite rubble and head to the next part of the game, with danger lapping at their backs.