I stood unsteadily, hand gravitating to my pocket, where I found the pebble Courtney gave me. I held on to it for dear life. “We need to itemize all the bad shit and tick off our problems one by one,” I said, as though I could simply spreadsheet our way through being Chosen Ones. “Step one, figure out who the fuck the Evil One is. As soon as we get back, we find Greg the mouse and ask him if he learned anything while we were away.”
“And what about the dragon and the skeletons?”
“I don’t know. We’ll talk to Amy about increasing guards around the city to buy us time until we figure it out.”
As morning light touched the horizon, the city finally came into view. We kept looking over our shoulders for signs of the skeletons. My ears prickled as I strained to hear the telltale crashing of bony feet through the forest, and my neck developed a crick from how often I kept searching the sky for the dragon.
Forcing ourselves to act natural, we walked through the gates to discover the streets bustling with activity. I scrutinized everyone around me, looking for signs of fear that would indicate people had seen the dragon or undead, but everything seemed normal. Carriages stretched down the main roads as far as we could see. Banners waved on every house. People were setting up booths. Children laughed. Hawkers’ shouts zipped back and forth as they tried to sell their wares. Women gossiped in clusters. Smells of street food filled the air. Somewhere far away, music played. An eerie sense of foreboding settled over me, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. It was the calm before the storm. It was only a matter of time before calamity swept through the city, and it was all our fault.
My eyes caught on a banner praising the return of a Chosen One, and that was when I remembered. “Oh, shit. The Chosen One tournament is today.” Frustration tried to claw its way out of mythroat. None of this mattered anymore. We had bigger problems to worry about.
“We don’t have time for that,” Courtney said, echoing my thoughts. “There’s a dragon and a zombie army on the loose. We’ll come up with a reason to delay it.”
Just then, Amy materialized out of nowhere. “Ah, there you are. When your horses returned without you, we grew concerned. I trust you took care of the dragon?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Wonderful. We must make haste. The trial is about to start.” He beckoned for us to follow.
“I think we should postpone the tournament,” I tried, scampering after Amy as he ushered us through the crowd. “I’m… not feeling well.” Faking an illness had worked well enough before.
But Amy ignored me. “Come quickly. We must get you prepped. Everyone’s waiting!”
“What do you think about increasing security?” Courtney asked Amy, struggling to catch her breath as we trailed after him through the city.
“Pish posh,” Amy said absently. “Last night was peaceful. The Evil One seems to be lying low for now.”
“I just thought, with the increased crowds for the tournament, it might be wise,” Courtney pressed.
“Nonsense.” Amy waved a hand. “The citizens are well-behaved. There’s nothing to worry about from them.”
Courtney gave up arguing and fell back to hobble beside me. “I’m going to let you win so we can get this over with quickly and figure out how to stop the skeletons. You’re the Chosen One anyway. All that matters is fixing things and getting home.”
Hearing her give up the title so easily was no longer the triumph I’d once thought it would be. I had no idea why she thought I was more capable than her of saving the day. The thought of having to organize a defense against the Evil One only increased my panic.
I didn’t have much time to think about it, though, because Amy dropped us off at an armory where a guard strapped a bunch of metal to my body. A few minutes later, I was being pushed outside, where I found myself in a dirt arena, surrounded by loud, packed bleachers.
As someone shoved a blunt sword in my hand, I figured out that hand-to-hand combat was the first test of the tournament. In the bleachers, people talked and laughed.
I glanced toward the horizon, waiting to see a zombie horde approaching. Nothing yet.
A trumpet sounded, and I jumped in fright, expecting a dragon to drop from the sky. Instead, a herald, who was predictably named Harold, stepped forward and spoke at an unnecessarily loud volume as he held a giant broadsword aloft, declaring it the award for whoever turned out to be the Chosen One. The sword’s name, origin, and significance were discussed at length. Basic human needs, like breathing, didn’t seem to apply to Harold the herald. In the bleachers, Amy nodded along, and I half expected him to leap up and shout,Amen!
A second later, Harold the herald ran through a points system I didn’t understand, the trumpet blasted again, and I jolted once more, armor rattling. A servant shoved me forward, and I stumbled into the arena. Courtney limped into the other side of the ring carrying a shield and sword. Her gaze was heavy, like she was a battle-worn warrior instead of a woman whose exhaustion stemmed from missing a singular meal and enduring one sleepless night.
“I forfeit.” Courtney stabbed her sword into the ground, stepped back, and crossed her arms.
The crowd fell silent. Amy wheezed. The king looked perplexed—more than usual.
“You can’t quit, Lady Courtney,” the herald said under his breath.
“Why, though?”
“There are no records of a Chosen One ever having quit before,” the herald said. “They’ve come close, to be sure, but the power within always rejuvenated their broken spirits, and they persevered.”
In the bleachers, Amy stood and drew in a large lungful of air like he was about to deliver a three-part presentation over all the reasons Courtney couldn’t quit.
“Fine, fine.” Rolling her eyes, Courtney faced me and spread her arms. “Attack me. Let’s get this over with.”
I took a few steps toward her. Murmurs spread through the crowd. Amy sank back into his seat, momentarily satisfied. I kept expecting to hear screams of fear rise from the city as the skeleton army breached the wall, or for the shadow of the dragon to drop across us.
My eye caught on something as it moved beneath the bleacher nearest to me. It was Courtney’s sidekick, the mouse, Greg, hiding behind someone’s tankard of beer. He obviously couldn’t tell how spooked Courtney and I were, because his whiskers twitched as he caught my eye, and his tiny mouth curled into a smile. If only he knew what happened on our trip, he wouldn’t be so happy about seeing us again.
