Page 73 of The Last Dragon
“If you don’t have the guts to go, then don’t,” I say, looking around, observing several others who are having second thoughts. Eyes darting, hands shaking, some vomiting.
Ilian shoots up, glaring at me with a wrinkled brow. “The hell, Zel?” he growls. “You think I’ll just let others take the risk and not participate? Unlike you, some of us are still human.”
I look back at him, completely unfazed. I get it. He’s scared. Most of them are. He continues to pack the last ration into his backpack. Eryca is a few feet away from us, eavesdropping on our conversation. By the looks of it, she isn’t too happy that I riled up her brother.
“Not sure what you’re trying to do here,” she says, staring me down, “but if you’re here to give us a pep talk then you aren’t doing a good job.”
“I just don’t want cowards on this mission,” I sharply, calmness still lingering in my voice, even though deep inside there’s worry brewing.
“Says you,” Eryca crosses her arms. “When was the last time you were on a mission? Two years ago?” She scoffs.
“What happened two years ago is why you and your brother are still alive,” I growl.
“You forget that we were there too. The difference between us and you is that we remained in a unit, while you left,” Eryca snaps back, taking determined steps toward me.
“Are you two done?” I turn to see Sam with a crate full of herbs and vials in hand. I grunt, taking a step away from Eryca.
“What’s this?” Ilian asks, approaching the crate as Sam loads it into one of the carriages.
“Medical supplies,” Sam says, dusting his hands off. Sam meets my gaze, a shiver of worry buried deeply in his green eyes. He stares at me for a minute, but his eyes linger a bit lower. I tugmy collar up. Is he watching my veins? Are they peeking out too much? I furrow my brow. Did Sayna put him up to something?
He pushes the crates forward. “Take some, in case I don’t make it in time,” he says to Ilian and Eryca and takes a few steps toward me. He places his hand on my shoulder, barely putting weight on it, while darting his eyes around.
“Make sure to stay focused,” he says, barely a whisper. Worry twists my stomach. I hope I don’t get any seizures. Sam pats my shoulder twice and returns to Ilian and Eryca rummaging in the crate.
I look through my bag, counting how many rations I have for the trip, and making sure I have enough packed for an emergency. My serum is there too. Ilian sits on planks—splintered barricades destroyed after the dragon attack. The sun beats down like it has something to prove, and there is no wind in sight to help cool us. It takes me back to those long days near Pirlem, running around the rivers and dipping our toes in the water to cool off. I’m not sure if the river has dried up or not. I guess I’ll see when I’m there.
“Theo!” Commandant Lorren shouts, diverting my attention to the supplies piled high and precariously by the carriage, some slowly tipping and falling from the vibrations of passing horses and carriages. A boy, the same age as I was when I first applied for the Corps, flinches at the commandant’s shout. He stands clenching a bag as if he’s protecting something valuable in it.
“I’ve said this! The water canteens need to be on the other carriage with the first expedition army!” The commandant barks, pointing his finger toward the carriage that’s the opposite of where he was. “Move them! We’ll be heading out soon.”
“Y-yes, sir!” he stutters without meeting the commandant’s piercing gaze. “Of course, sir!”
The commandant grunts, looking him up and down, disappointed in having to raise a pup.
Theo scurries to the closest bench, still clutching his bag. I follow his frantic movements until the poor fool stumbles and falls over the bench. The soldiers around him laugh, mocking him and questioning how he can ever become a soldier. And that pisses me off. He’s young. Younger than any of us. How he got himself into the Corps, I’ll never know. He’s clumsy. But that doesn’t make him less of a soldier. It just makes him a blank canvas. He’s shaking. I’m a commander—if I have to lead these people, I need to make sure they’re focused. That they still believe in themselves.
“Hey, Theo,” I call out calmly to not scare him any further. His eyes search in my general direction, shielding himself from the sun with his small hands. I wait until his big blue eyes meet mine.
“Water.” I point at the canteen lying beside him, signaling for him to bring it to me. He hastily picks up the canteen and scurries to me, but not before he turns around and grabs his bag that he left lying on the bench.
I take the canteen before he’s able to lift it for me to properly reach it. He’s slow, his eyes darting around the distractions behind me. My unit.
“You’re unit seventeen!” he exclaims.
“Yeah,” Eryca raises her voice, her brow furrowing. “And what unit are you in, kid?”
“Oh,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I-I’m in unit thirty-seven. But I’m also the waterboy,” he says with a smile that only a child who hasn’t seen death would bear. He clears his throat before proceeding. “Lieutenant Abern is my uncle. He helped me apply.”
Ilian stops rummaging in his own bag and looks at Theo, partly with disgust, but mostly pity.
“Why would you want to apply for something like this?” Ilian’s voice is low. Theo is ready to give his answer, but Ilian doesn’tbother to listen. Instead, he stands up, throws his bag over his shoulder, and leaves.
Theo’s head drops, hurt by the words.
A loud whistle from Lieutenant Wain echoes through the field, signalling everyone to gather into their formations and prepare to leave. I pat Theo’s shoulder, giving him a soft smile, and head to my formation.
“Don’t forget the water, kid,” I say, breaking him out of his trance. He scurries away, merging with the crowd of soldiers who are gearing up and turning their emotions completely off.
