The Final Task

I stood motionless as I watched seven large men lobbed ropes over the dragon's body. Its head rose ever so slightly as it took its final breath of air, savoring the element which kept it alive. The dragon's head then fell hard to the floor with a loud thud that shook the arena, and just as its eyes closed for the last time, I swore it met my gaze before its limp body melted into the ground. 

My classmate, Adwin, threw his bloody hands up taking in the crowd's roars of cheers. The elders looked unamused, keeping stern faces at bay. Adwin had done it. He had completed the final task in becoming an Elite Warrior. Kill a dragon. Yes we were trained warriors, but the Elite joined the fight on the front lines. Without this, without the title, I would just be a waste of space and nothing more than an outcast in a society that I failed. 

A brisk breeze caused a shiver to run down my spine and down to my toes. I held myself firmly. Moving even an inch could be considered a weakness. And I could not let the elders see anything less than perfection, not when I was so close to being chosen. 

Adwin made his way to my side as the dragon was being removed. To where? No one ever cared enough to ask. His lips covered in a thin layer of blood brushed against my ear as he whispered, “Kia. You’re next, coward.” Adwin and I had been competitors since the day my mother shipped me off to train at the age of five. We would go neck to neck every chance we had, and if killing a competitor was in the rule book, I was sure one of us would have slit the other’s throat in the dead of night by now. But sadly that is not an option, and I had to put up with his ridicules, his trying to get under my skin, to which I never let happen. Most of the time. 

I shook away Adwin’s words as I felt his smile still upon me. Across the arena the center elder stood up, “Kia Brow. We call you to complete your final task.” I dropped my shoulders, lifted my chin, and narrowed my eyes to the now open arena. I took a long breath – in through my nose out through my mouth, letting every thought drift out of my head. I dropped my chin the slightest bit and began my walk forward. I made no connection to the roaring crowd, just kept my gaze on the three elders that sat in their throne chairs whispering to one another. You are your own opponent. My mother’s words flew through me one last time. 

Once I reached the center point, I adjusted my feet position. The outsole of my boots were now stained with the mixture of dirt and the warm blood that still lay from the dragon Adwin had slain. I did not dare to look down, so I turned to the guard, nodding my head once informing him that I was ready. 

It was as if the world went quiet, and only the sound was the metal scraping against metal as the guard slowly opened the door to the cage. The dragon inside rustled violently counting down the second until it met the open air. If only it knew its fate. A wave of guilt rushed over me, but I shook it off without a thought. I had no room for mistakes. None. 

I reached my arm out, gripped the hilt of my sword, and pulled it out from its leather scabbard. I stared at the cage woven into the stone wall of the arena, wondering what dragon the elders had chosen for me. There were over forty different species of dragons to which I was deprived of any form of sleep until I had memorized them all. Cruel methods are the most effective. I shifted my feet one last time, adjusted my shoulder, and held my breath. 

The cage door flung open and the crowd gasped. I even let one of my own slip out at the sight of the dragon. The elders had chosen the fiercest, most deadly dragon known to our kind. Black Grim. I held my ground as it charged around the arena, its emerald green eyes full of pure beauty deceiving its evil soul, fixated on me. It began circling me like I was its next prey. Or its next meal. I could not let it sense the fear that rose with every moment that passed. 

Its wings had been clipped so it could not fly away; but that did not mean it needed wings to kill, it had had its whole life adapting to its other skills and perfecting them. A single black scale the size of my palm, each one was razor blade sharp, even a touch could slice a finger clean off. Its claws could scrap a stone wall in half, and its teeth had a bite force that could make diamonds turn to dust.  

The next few moments were a blur. The dragon lunged at me with its claws aiming for my head. I dove out of the way, but not fast enough. A razor sharp claw slashed across my hip down to my knee, feeling as if fire was brought to my leg. Trying to hold a scream of agony, I bit the inside of my cheek and  tasted the salty tang of my blood. I managed to get back on my feet just as the Black Grim came at me again. I threw my sword out making contact with its side. Scales broke free from its skin, rich cherry blood splattered out across my face, and he roared in pain. After a few more dodges and one too many slashes across my frail skin, I had managed to stab the Black Grim in its gut, twisting my blade hopefully to keep him down long enough to finish him. I retrieved my sword and walked along its side watching its chest rise and fall with each short breath. I stopped when I reached his head and met his deadly gaze. But to my fathom there was no evil in its eyes, no desire to kill. He was not even afraid. He looked at me knowing his fate, accepting it. This was his life, kept in a cage until someone came around willing to do anything to kill him. 

I had to kill the dragon. I had no other choice. I swung my sword back and plunged it forward, but my blade stopped short just a mere inch from his throat. I closed my eyes and winced at the thoughts telling me to drop my sword. 

Killing this dragon should be easy. Why was I making it so difficult? It had been pried into my head since I learned how to speak that dragons were our enemy; they had no soul, killed for the sake of a game, they were monsters that we were slaves to. If I did not kill the dragon, then my entire life would have been a waste. I would be sent back to my mother who gave everything for me to be in this program. I live in a world where only the best of the best get to see the front lines of a battlefield. And if you are like me, I wasn’t handed my spot because my father was the head general. No. I was born on the far side of the city where one would only go if they were lost on a drunken night. People who are born there never get out. But I was one of the lucky ones; my mother sent me off to training at the age of five. Though my childhood was difficult, at least I had a meal to fill my stomach and roof over my head in the bitter winter. 

Kill it. Kill it! The voice screamed in my head. One clean cut and it would bleed to death and I would be titled an Elite Warrior. Pain arose in my chest as if I had taken the sword to my own heart. My breaths became raged like shards of glass penetrated my lungs. 

I shook my head. This was not right.

It was as if all the air returned to my lungs as I let the sword slip through my hands. The crowd’s gasps filled the arena as the metal landed on the ground. The dragon's head titled as if it too were stunned by my action. I raised my arms to show him that I wielded no weapons that could harm him. His head dropped ever so slightly, examining my movements as I slowly walked to him. I whispered, “I will not do it. I will not kill you. I promise.” I placed my hand on the brim of his nose. He closed his eyes and opened them slowly, as if he was thanking me. 

I slowly backed away and turned towards the elders with my head high, undoubtedly expecting them to be shaking their heads in unison disapproval. To my surprise the two outer elders' faces were composed, and the center eldest had what appeared to be a smirk on her face. She was happy that I had failed. The thoughted pained my core. She rose to her feet, “Kia Brow.” The raspy tone of her voice could be heard miles from here, and I sucked in a breath waiting for her response. “Congratulations. You have completed the final task for becoming an Elite Warrior.”