Roarn Rex's Arc

Chapter 3 of 4

Roarn crept back to the lab at dawn. Heat Meat hovered beside him on the raptor car, boosters humming low. The sealed door waited at the bottom of the hollow, black and slick with dew. Roarn drew his sword. He had beaten a rock lizard with it. He had cut through vines and cracked open a snoutclaw's cage. He believed in it. He raised it over his head and brought it down on the seam of the door. The blade rang. His arms went numb to the elbow. A thin white notch appeared in the metal, no deeper than a fingernail. He swung again. The door hummed and spat a blue spark that stung his cheek. The notch did not grow. "Move," Heat Meat said. He gunned the car and rammed the nose against the door. The boosters screamed. The car bounced off and skidded sideways. Heat Meat wrestled it level. "Okay. So. Not that." A low engine purred behind them. Roarn turned. A black race car rolled down the slope, pink lights glowing under its frame. A girl in a cat costume sat behind the wheel. The word DARKNESS ran along the hood. Dark Race. He had heard the name from the Rangers up north. She worked for Dr. Darkness now. Mrs. Not Nice stepped out from behind the car. Her wand was down at her side. She looked bored. "You brought a sword to a door," she said. "Cute." Roarn lifted the blade. Heat Meat swung the car between them. Mrs. Not Nice raised her wand. Roarn braced for stone. Instead she flicked her wrist at his sword. A red line of light hit the blade near the hilt. The steel went gray. Then it went soft. Then it drooped like a wet noodle and clanged against the rock. Roarn stared at the ruined sword in his hand. "Run," Heat Meat said. Roarn grabbed the car's side rail. The boosters flared. Dark Race's engine roared behind them. They tore up the slope with the black car on their tail. Mrs. Not Nice did not chase. She did not need to. They lost Dark Race in a stand of ferns and skidded to a stop on a ridge two valleys over. Roarn dropped off the car. He held up the sword. The blade hung limp from the hilt, useless. "I can't cut that door," he said. "Not with this. Not with anything I have." Heat Meat was quiet for once. He looked at the ruined sword. Then he looked north. "My cousin took a book off a witch last summer," he said. "Big one. Shoots light. Ron keeps it locked up because it scares him." He shrugged. "So. We go get it." Roarn wrapped the dead blade in cloth. The egg was moving. His sword was gone. He needed something stronger, and he knew where to look.