Page 106 of The Last Dragon
Nida drags herself, panting heavily. She’s in and out of consciousness, her head and face covered in blood.
“Medic!” I yell, scanning the battlefield, looking for anyone to help. But there are bodies—blood everywhere. Charred, injured, crushed by stone.
“Please, I need a Medic here! I need one NOW!” I roar. Fires spread to the wooden infrastructure of the barricades, creating thick, heavy smoke. I can barely see anything.
“Zel,” Nida whispers. “Leave me.”
“No,” I hiss. “Weget to survive,” I say, pressing her closer. My voice trembles, and I grip her arm tighter, adjusting her body for a better hold. My legs feel like they’re about to give out. ButI keep going. I try to breathe. Yet the more I breathe, the harder it is to get air in my lungs. So I gasp for more. And more. And more.
I’m afraid.
I’m fuckingterrified.
I’m terrified to make the same mistake again. I don’t want that to happen. I have to fight. I have to keep going. I have to save everyone.
I have to. I have to. I have to.
Five Defenders stomp past me—brown colors blurring together. I glance over my shoulder. They’re carrying the metal poles that are specifically designed for Stonetail’s, poles that damage and pierce through their thick scales, opening up a wound large enough for Hunters to kill it. The only way we can bring this thing down.
Sam rushes up, taking Nida from my hands, and starts assessing her injuries. Out of the corner of my eye, I recognize the tall figure of one of the Defenders. I whirl toward him.Scaled heavy armor. Digging the pole into the ground and holding it steady.
Raumen.
Sweat drips off his forehead as he attempts to quickly wipe it away. Soldiers are rushing past me, dust billowing into the air as I squint to get a better look at him. He looks at me with his soft blue eyes, forcing a small smile.
He straps his last belt to the pole with no chance to move aside. Then, he blinks and gives me a thumbs-up. He lowers his visor to cover his head, and turns his focus to the Stonetail. The beast stamps the ground, a low rumble in its chest, ready to ram.
“Raumen!” I yell, but my voice is swallowed by screams and the dragon’s deafening roar. My heart pounds in my chest, legs barely holding me in place. Smoke fills my lungs, burning with every breath.
Shut it off.
The Stonetail releases a deafening roar as it charges toward the gate. Raumen stands firmly holding the pole, preparing himself for a lethal impact. With no intention of moving. He wants to make sure the pole pierces through the dragon’s skin with absolute certainty.
“No!” I yell, dragging myself forward, as if that’s going to do anything. But before the air leaves my lungs from shouting, the dragon slams into the pole with all its might, unleashing a horrid screech. Raumen throws himself to the side at the last second—but he’s not fast enough—and the beast’s momentum crashes into him, crushing him beneath its weight.
Not him.
I stare at the beast in disbelief, Raumen’s motionless body crushed beneath its feet. Rage surges through me—then everything goes numb.
I snatch a crossbow from the ground a few feet away, edging closer to the dragon. I aim at the wound, my grip tightening to steady my shot. I whistle for Sarga—hoping she’s still alive—and a soft screech answers me. She knows exactly what to do. Her smooth flight, weaving close to the dragon, draws its attention just long enough for me to fire. The laced bolt strikes true. The beast roars in agony as the tranquilizer seeps through its veins, and it collapses to the ground.
The world goes silent. No screaming, no clattering of metal against metal, no rumbling or cracking from The Hold. Nothing. Even the gentle breeze of the wind gusting up the dust refrained from its whispers. Only a faint rumble of a dragon’s breath. Weak. Defeated.
I drop my bow and suck in a breath, still finding the strength to run toward Raumen. Raumen.My best friend.
“No,” I gasp with every step. “No no no no no.”
I fall to my knees, a sudden, choking noise escapes me as he blinks slowly.
“Raumen!” I scream, loud—painful.
His helmet is cracked from the impact, more than half of his face exposed beneath the shattered visor, hanging like a loose jaw, splatters of blood drying on his cheek. I tuck my fingers under his bloody chin, gently lifting it so he can breathe. His chest rises—barely—and panic surges through my body like lightning. Blood seeps from his mouth. Another slow blink.
“You got this, buddy,” I say shakily, the words barely making it out. “You’re fine.”
I twist my body to glance behind me for a moment, but the gurgling noise drags my attention back to Raumen.
“Medic!” I yell, grabbing Raumen’s hand, peeking through a broken gauntlet. His warm fingers are unharmed, giving me hope that whatever lies beneath the armor is just as intact.
