Stevie's Arc

Chapter 6 of 7

At dusk the arena filled. Stevie stood on the sand with her small phoenix on her shoulder and Andromeda beside her. The crowd roared. Gods watched from high seats. She thought of the tree's words and looked only at her two companions. Fear for herself was small. Fear for them was fuel. The far gate lifted. The lion walked out. White and grey fur, twice the size of Andromeda, all muscle. The same beast her phoenix had once blinded to save her. Its blue eyes found the phoenix on her shoulder. Its lip pulled back. It remembered. The crowd went quiet. The lion did not circle or crouch. It charged straight at the phoenix, faster than any drill had shown, driven by hate. "Up!" Stevie shouted. The phoenix shot into the air. The lion twisted and leaped after it, ignoring the ground, ignoring the dragon. Her plan cracked. The beasts were supposed to trade high and low. But the lion wanted only the bird that had hurt it. The phoenix darted. The lion's jaws snapped shut on empty air, close enough to singe. Stevie's chest seized. Her tiny bird could not outfly that rage forever. The old pattern would not work. She had to break it. "Andromeda, up!" she called. The dragon spread her wings and rose, wrong role, wrong command. But it put the golden dragon between the lion and the phoenix. The lion landed, confused for one breath by the larger target. One breath was enough. "Low, now!" Stevie yelled. Andromeda dropped like a stone and swept the lion's front legs. The lion stumbled. "Phoenix, high!" The phoenix climbed, and the lion's eyes snapped up to follow, torn between the two. Stevie saw it then. The lion's rage was a leash. Wherever the phoenix went, the lion looked. She could pull it. "High! Hold!" The phoenix hovered out of reach. The lion crouched to spring at it, tail lashing, blind to the ground. "Andromeda, low!" The dragon came from the side and slammed the lion's flank. The huge beast rolled onto the sand. Andromeda pinned its shoulders with both forelegs. The lion thrashed, still snarling up at the phoenix it hated. "Hold him," Stevie said, quiet now. Andromeda held. The lion's chest heaved. Its blue eyes swung from the bird to Stevie. The snarl faded. The rage had nowhere left to go. It stopped fighting. The herald's staff struck the ground three times. The crowd erupted. Stevie's legs shook, but her voice had not failed. Not once. Andromeda backed off the lion and returned to her side. The phoenix landed on her shoulder, feathers warm against her neck. She had won the trial. Then the herald raised his hand for silence. "The beast is bested," he called, "but it is not slain. By the old law, a bested Nemean beast belongs to its victor." He looked at Stevie. "The lion is yours now. Tame it, or forfeit all you have won."