Page 71 of The Last Dragon
Slowly, I weave them, one over the other, the same way she taught me years ago. The sections of wild hair begin to tame into a thick, long braid. It’s not perfect, but it will do.
“There,” I say, tying the end with a strip of cloth and smoothing the ends with my fingertips. “Tamed.”
She looks over her shoulder to face me. “How did you know how to do this?”
I grin. “I didn’t. I just figured braiding hair would be like weaving a bracelet. The ones we used to make.”
Her eyes glimmer, lips parting, and a subtle hint of shock clouds her face. She holds her breath. “I can’t believe you remember that,” she says, her voice shaky.
“I never forgot.” I raise my left hand, pulling down the sleeve, revealing a sun-bleached twist of dried grass around my wrist. I’m surprised it held on for so long. But her craftsmanship was always better than mine. And I’m hoping it will remain strong for a long time.
Her eyes dart to the bracelet. She blinks and takes a slow, deep inhale. Her smile is different this time. The contagious kind. Sheblinks again, rapidly shaking her left hand, and a similar bracelet to mine peeks out from her sleeve. And all I can think about is the river and the sharp scent of salt, the way blue forget-me-nots wove through her copper hair like pieces of sky tangled in a fiery flame.
The commandants of Hunters and Trackers emerge from the opening, making their way to the heightened platform. Behind them, five guards drag in a wooden contraption that’s new even to me. I wonder if this is some type of new training machine. It has several cogwheels and a long, extended log that presumably spins if the contraption is engaged. Curious and excited whispers fill the room as the cadets gather. One of the commandants raises his aging hand to hush the crowd so he can speak.
“One of the most vital weapons you have against a dragon is your speed,” says Commandant Lorren, head of the Hunters. “If you are quick on your feet, you’ll be able to dodge incoming attacks and calculate their behavior with precision. Too slow, and you die.” His gray eyes darken, looking down over the cadets crowded next to one another, some pushing and shoving to get a closer look at the machine.
“The dragon you’re going to face is not justanyRedsnout,” says Commandant Tenwill, head of the Trackers, as he approaches the machine. The metal of his soles taps on the wooden platform. “Its adaptation these past few years has proven remarkable, and certain behaviors that are typical to its species have become varied. Unpredictable. Meaning that not only must you work with your eyes and the knowledge you possess, but also your senses.Allof your senses.”
His imposing figure seems smaller when he stands in the shadow of the machine. He’s taught me solid tactics for handling a Redsnout, but when it comes to Stonetails, his knowledge is unmatched. Teaching Trackers how to distract a Stonetail isone thing, but knowing when to ignore all your teachings and improvise is another. I’ve only seen him once in battle against a Stonetail, but if it wasn’t for him, I doubt the Third would still be standing.
“This machine has been constructed by our scientist, Hetre Tenwill, together with Ligerion, which slightly mimics the engaging attacks of a dragon,” says Commandant Tenwill, pointing to his brother standing inches away from the contraption. “The attacks are random, not rhythmic, meaning you’ll have to use your instincts to counter these attacks. The prime focus of this creation is the tail.” He gestures toward the long, pillowed log stretching across the platform.
“This represents that tail.” He runs his hand along the log, dragging it from one side to the end. “Over the past years, we have analyzed Redsnout behavior, and despite their keen usage of fire, Redsnouts became more reliant on their tail. This makes it more difficult to approach the dragon from behind, which is the safest place for us to be. Well,was.”
The contraption is complex, with several cogwheels attached to the bottom for rotation. There are different-sized bumps scattered around the platform under the machine. I assume it’s for randomizing tail movement. In front of the machine, there’s a large lever attaching itself at the base of the tail. Probably for someone to shift the entire contraption to randomize and control the tail movements even more. The more I analyze the machine, the more it seems familiar. I think I saw Ligerion’s sketches on the first day I joined the Corps. I can’t shake off the feeling that someone else was there with us. But I can’t remember who.
“That thing looks like it can kill you faster than a Stonetail.” Raumen smirks. Ilian and Eryca snicker at his remark whilst I roll my eyes.
“Even in armor?” Nida cranes her neck to glance at Raumen.
“Especiallyin armor,” he retorts. He leans in and gives Nida a wink as they continue to mock the contraption. I lean back a bit, darting my eyes between them, watching them.
“This contraption was designed for cadets from the second year and up. First-years might find this a little bit more challenging. Dangerous even. However, we all came to an agreement that, due to recent events, it’s crucial to” —Tenwill clears his throat— “speed things up, since most first-years will be joining the next expedition.” Grunts of unhappy first-years echo through the training room.
“It’s possible to make it go slower so you can adjust to it without getting injured,” Lorren adds. “But practice your speed. Anticipate the movements.”
Ilian tilts his head, scanning the contraption. He looks at me, then back at the wooden tail perched on the platform.
“Looks like a piece of junk,” he mutters, and Commandant Lorren notices Ilian’s smirk.
“Blindfolded?!” Ilian exclaims with his hands curved into upright claws. “How am I supposed to avoid the tailblindfolded?”
Ilian has tried the machine a few times now, easily mocking it while dodging its blows. The movements may be random, but if you can see, reacting is easy. Put on a blindfold, though, and you’re forced to rely on your other senses.
“Don’t worry!” Commandant Lorren chuckles. “The tail is covered in soft cushions. The worst that can happen is a broken nose and a concussion.” Ilian’s jaw drops to the floor, and mine isn’t far behind. “We’ll start at a slower speed and then we will gradually increase it as you adapt and improve.”
I’m not sure if I want Ilian with a broken nose and a concussion weeks before the expedition. But knowing Commandant Lorren, he’s probably joking.
Ilian shoots a pleading gaze at me. He’s hoping that I can give him a logical explanation of why he should avoid this type of training, but I have nothing, and I shrug at him.
“Adapt and improve,” I say, with a gentle smirk. His eyes darken and narrow, as if all of his trust in me evaporates. Eryca crosses her arms, a glimmer appearing in her eyes. Something tells me she’s going to enjoy this more than I will.
A sixth-year cadet ties a dark band around Ilian’s eyes, completely obstructing his vision. He stays still, listening to Commandant Lorren as he instructs Ilian on how to focus on his other senses. Hearing, touch, intuition. He turns his head to the side as if attempting to look at me, but ends up looking slightly to the left, facing the wall. That forces a chuckle out of me. Based on his frown, he’s confused for a moment. The Commandant turns him forward, kicking Ilian’s feet to adjust his stance.
“Now remember, a real-life situation is not even as close as what you’ll experience here,” says Tenwill, his hands on Ilian’s shoulders. “This is only practice for you to use your senses. Winning here doesn’t mean you win on the battlefield. But it sure as hell increases the odds.”
Ilian nods, signaling that he’s ready to engage the contraption. He stands with his feet shoulder-width apart, bracing for the impact. Everyone gathers around, holding their breath and watching Ilian tense up with every moment as the machine begins to rattle.
