Chapter One "I Fight My Older Cousin"
I never should have taken the alley.
I know, I know, Fletcher and Eathan and Dylan and Colton and Blake ALL told me not to; but I just had to. I had to find that drakon. I couldn't let it get away. But I shouldn't have taken the alley…
Anyway, I hurried down the alley, my Celestial Bronze sword glinting in the evening light. I was tracking a drakon, one that had been bugging us for a few weeks and terrorizing the mortals. Finally I came to the end of the alley. My five brothers and I had split up, unwillingly, I might add, to find this drakon. I had caught the trail and was on it like a hellhound. It was my mistake. Instead of looking around before entering, I just walked in. I was alone; but I thought I had followed it in. Well, almost alone. Standing at the end of the alley was a boy. He looked about the same age as my brother Colton, nineteen. He had black windswept hair, just like Dylan, and sea green eyes. All he was wearing was a tattered orange T-shirt, which might have had words on it at one time but was too faded to tell, ordinary jeans and sneakers. He was un-armed. My guard instantly was up. The drakon I was tracking was a μεταμορφικό, a shape-shifter.
My instincts kicked in. I acted without thinking and charged. The boy looked surprised and pulled a ballpoint pen out of his pocket and un-capped it. Elongating into a bronze sword, it shimmered in the light. We met halfway. Raising my sword I slashed, but the drakon parried surprisingly fast. I've fought lots of monsters, I thought, but sword-fighting drakons are new. We fought for a minute, but then he switched fighting styles. I faltered for a minute, and it cost me a good size cut on the arm. Feigning that I was going to run for it, I swiveled ninety degrees and sprinted a few steps. Then I turned and ran back to him. Just as I reached him, I dropped to my belly and slid in between his legs, slashing one of them. He turned on me, his eyes sparking like Greek fire. I jumped up and prepared to go for his other leg. He was limping now, blood dripping to the ground. Our swords met, but I knew I had lost. My sword arm, the one that he had cut, gave out. My sword clattered to the ground. He took a step toward me, but instead of going for the kill, simply slammed the hilt of his sword into my head.