Page 69 of The Last Dragon
Now, instead of us huntingit, the dragon is huntingus. I cross my arms and lean closer to the map, observing the areas that have been marked with red dots and black crosses. A worry fills my gut when I notice the red dot on the square where theThird is—a result of the Redsnout attack. Right before I’m about to tear my eyes away from the map, I notice something. The marks seem scattered and inconsistent. There is nopatternto the dragon sightings. Something’s wrong.
“What do you hope to achieve with this expedition?” I ask, attempting not to let the growing worry affect my stance as I straighten myself.
Shut it off.
Don’t think about it.
The general raises an eyebrow, questioning whether or not I’m serious with my inquiry, but his concern quickly fades away.
“The expedition has two goals,” he says. “First, it’s crucial we gather intel on the Western Terrain—learn where the dragon resides. If more sightings occur, we might pinpoint where it spends its nights.”
Right. Redsnouts aren’t nocturnal. They’re most dangerous during the day and easiest to scout at night.
“Once we determine whether the sightings are consistent in that region,” he continues, “we can take action. Which brings us to the second goal. Killing it.”
“And how would you want me to proceed?” I ask, and a faint smile appears on his face.
“Instead of heading straight to the Western Terrain, this will be a patrolling expedition,” he says, pointing to the Eastern Front—where my village lies. He drags his finger across the map as he explains the route. “You’ll begin in the Third and march all the way to square twenty-nine, where the patrol will start. From there, you’ll track back toward the Stronghold, passing square thirty-four—where the village of Medyn is. If there’s any sign of a dragon, you are to engage immediately. The entire route will take two days.” He grabs a handful of small wooden figurines carved in the shape of arrows and places them across the Western Terrain, marking the path. “We will split thisexpedition into two. Your army” —he places the figurine on the map— “and reinforcements. It’s smaller, so you do not need to worry about leading a full expedition unless you’re attacked.”
The weight shifts from my shoulders. It’s lighter. Fewer soldiers to lead. More control. He thought of everything.
“You’ll have carts, rations, and a handful of horses. The rest will go to the second army in case you need reinforcements. You’ll have Scouts at your disposal for communication with the other army.”
I nod. Slowly, I’m being convinced of this expedition. Yet the lingering thought of having to bring my unit still bothers me—I’d rather not have them with me. I would argue, but he will use Nida against me. I’ll need a Tracker. And she’ll need Eryca and Ilian. I let out a sigh. It’s risky. If the dragonisexpanding its territory, then for the entire expedition, we’ll be inside it—without knowing exactly where the beast is. And if it’s stalking us, hunting us like prey, there’s a slim chance it’ll be right on our heels the whole time.
I pause, replaying the plan over and over in my head, searching for any angle that doesn’t end in death. But one thing the general said is clear—this is our best chance at taking the dragon down. Still, one concern lingers—whichdragon are we killing? Maybe having Nida on this patrol is a good thing. If there’s a sighting, she can track the beast and identify it. Only then will I know if my suspicions are right. But do I mention this to him? Do I bring this up? No. I have to be sure first. Nida’s book isn’t evidence enough. It could be falsified information from years ago or misinterpretations.
Seconds pass, each thought convincing me that Nida’s wrong. The book is wrong. The records—human error. This plan that he’s presenting has humanity’s best interest written all over it. It’s carefully crafted—a safer option for us to learn more about the Redsnout, and he even considered splitting the armyinto two for me. It’s brilliant. Tactical. Not a shred of doubt from months of planning. It’s whyhe’sthe general. But there’s something—still something—that doesn’t sit right with me. And when I try to figure it out, process what I feel, my head stings.
“You seem concerned, boy,” he says, snapping me out of my thoughts. I glance up—he’s standing with his arms crossed, waiting for my response.
“There are many risks to this expedition,” I say, my voice a notch lower than usual. He exhales, a grunt of agreement following close behind. This is no easy task—but no one ever said serving in the Corps would be.
“I have faith in you,Kazele,” he says, his voice softer than most days, his eyes gleaming. “Ever since you showed up at my door as a child, you’ve shown nothing but promise and determination for the Corps. I assure you, those long nights wrapping your bloodied fists won’t be in vain.Thisis our chance.”
I remain silent. Deep down, looking at the map, I know I’ll have to cross Pirlem. For the first time, I’m uncertain if I want to go there. It’s a place I’d want to avoid. I’ll have first-years with me too—some from there.
“Unlike those out there,” the general says, voice low and steady, “you don’t fear death. And that’s what people will follow.” He pauses, eyes hard. “I’ve said it before, son—if I give you a task, it’s because no one else can carry it out the way you do.”
Silence swells between us, thick and deafening.
I’ve learned to live without the fear of death.I think back to the night I tried to save my mother from the beast that tore her apart. Something broke in me and buried itself beneath a numbness. A shield. An inability to fear. But bravery has its price. I’ve lived long enough to know that. Because I do fear death. Just not my own.
CHAPTER 24
Two weeks. That’s how long we have until the next expedition. Grogol made sure to brief everyone on the plan a day after he informed me. Every unit, soldier, and lieutenant knows their roles for this expedition. And I know mine.
Everyone prepares in their own way. The training grounds buzz with movement. Cadets spar, hurl weapons, fine-tune their aim, or clean the grit from their crossbows.
I sit on the bench, Ilian beside me, both of us still catching our breath after sparring. He wipes the sweat from his face with a towel while I keep my eyes on the mat. Raumen sits just to my left, humming under his breath as he polishes his gauntlet. The scales glint as he buffs them, a small smile forming like always. Somehow, even in silence, his presence feels like warmth.
It’s Nida’s turn to spar now. She faces Gia, a first-year she met during Assessment Year. The two exchange light punches, testing rhythm more than strength, easily dodging.
They circle one another, throwing sarcastic comments at each other like old friends. In a way, I’m relieved she found someone outside the unit to connect with. If I remember correctly, Gia is one of the few cadets who’s from Nedersen.
They get into position and steady their breathing as they prepare to get more serious with their sparring. Nida steps forward and launches a kick, but Gia dodges easily. She isn’t giving her all. At least this time she isn’t telegraphing. In fact, her stance is completely different compared to the first time we fought. It’s steadier. She bounces lightly on the balls of her feet, hands down, eyes locked with the cadet in front of her. Her opponent matches her stance but remains still with hands up. I narrow my eyes and Nida. She’s too calm. And I can’t help but recognize this stance. This isn’t something we are taught. But I don’t remember where I’ve seen it before.
Gia lunges, twisting her hips as she launches a powerful roundhouse kick, her leg snapping through the air in a clean arc, aiming for Nida’s ribcage. Nida stills, lifting her arms, trapping the kick before it lands. For a second, Gia is stuck, one leg held out as she’s gently jumping around to maintain her balance.
