Page 95 of The Last Dragon
“Glory for the Corps!” he bellows, stomping his right foot.
“Glory for Humanity!” Hundreds of cadets shout in unison, stomping their feet as they roar like dragons themselves.
He basks in the chants of his soldiers, while I sit still, watching the empty promises they devour. I glance over my shoulder to find Nida’s eyes on me, a brow arched in concern. I shift my gaze to the other side—Ilian’s back, his head bowed slightly. Then Eryca. Then Raumen. Sam. Theo. All who joined the expedition. All who witnessed their comrades fall. Those who know a battle is coming. Inevitable. Unwinnable.
As the room falls into a hush, Lieutenant Wain steps forward, pen in hand and several parchments tucked under her arm. She sets them carefully on the table. As field officer, she noted every detail, every report from many cadets after we returned. Beside her, Marina Fay stands firm, unwavering.
“Alright,” Wain says, and voices quiet down. “We have a report.” Immediately, hands shoot out, pens drip with ink, parchments unfurl with a soft rustle. The scratch of hurriedscribbling fills the air, punctuated by the occasional thud of a book opening. Wain spreads a rough sketch of a Redsnout’s anatomy.
“Over the past five years, we’ve witnessed profound adaptations in the Highspine Redsnout,” she begins, pacing the room with eyes locked on the image behind her, as two cadets struggle to fasten it in place. “These adaptations proved to be a devastating blow to our defenses, pushing us back years in our progression towards survival.” She steps toward the large table at the front, plucking a parchment from the corner. As she unfolds it, her eyes lock onto the crowd. Chairs creak and parchment rustles through the quiet room. I sit motionless, pen poised, feeling the weight of ink as it hits the page.
“As many of you have heard, the general believes that launching further expeditions will be too dangerous to attempt again.” This beast is unpredictable and deviates from the normal behavior of its species.” Wain approaches the board and nails several parchments to it. It reveals different parts of the dragon’s body, all the way from its snout to the tip of its dark red tail. The parchments lie spread out, their edges barely touching. Across the dragon’s body, various X-shaped markings scar the image—most clustered around the front and back claws. Wain twists on her heel to face the crowd, and Marina steps forward.
Marina points at the claws. “It seems the dragon has been using different parts of the landscape to sharpen its claws, including the rocky area along the outskirts of zones thirty-six and thirty-seven.” She waves her hand across the Scouts’ map. My hand freezes—none of this has registered enough for me to write anything down.
“The beast also displays behavior that is more common in other dragons, such as the Highneck Wingtail and Stonetail,” Marina continues, pointing at the tail and wings. “Generally, Redsnouts prefer lower altitude, rapid flight, but as it flewaway, it shot directly into the air vertically—instead of climbing gradually as it flew.” She paces a bit, staring into the crowd, locking her eyes with mine. Her brow slightly furrows as she observes me, as if telling me to write this down, but she quickly glances away.
“The tail,” she continues, “was used to demolish a giant part of the rocky hill, which is why so many of us were crushed under the boulders. But before that, it used its claws to weaken the stone, ensuring that a single strike from its tail would be enough to break it into pieces. Again, a behavior known to be common only in Stonetails.”
A rapid pulse drums in my chest. This dragon managed to adopt behaviors of other species. And it can pick and choose its behavior depending on the situation.Behavior, I remind myself,but not anatomy.
My eyes dart to Nida, and as if sensing me, she looks up. Her shoulders drop in relief, and I glance at her empty parchment.
“In the light of this information,” Wain’s voice cuts through the sound of flipping pages. “It is crucial to look over all the information we know about other dragon species and keep their behavior in mind.”
Questions rise into the air, answered by Wain, Marina Fay, and the general, but none of them grip my attention—until one question surfaces that makes my heart sink.
“How will the protection of the villagers be handled moving forward?” asks Eryca, her eyes locked on the general. There’s silence. Long silence.
He adjusts his stance and purses his lips. “The protection of the villages will be slightly…decreased,” he says.
Murmurs drift. Eryca’s shoulders cease to rise up and down, her head dropping low. She then lifts her chin for another question. “Will they be informed?”
My eyes flick back to the general as he draws a slow, deep breath, exhaling it all in a single word.
“No.”
Voices carry, louder now. I glance at the cadets, absorbing the general’s words.
“There’s no need to stir up more panic in the villages,” he says, trying to calm the room—but it’s in vain. “I know this seems dangerous, but I will do everything in my power to keep the villagers and their home safe.”
I grit my teeth. A lie. He couldn’t protect Pirlem.
“How does reducing the defenses outside the villages ensure their safety?” one of the cadets asks, his voice trembling.
“Yes, General—how?” another cadet roars. The room hums with murmurs as I watch the general slowly begin to crack.
“We saw Pirlem!” another young voice yells out. I look at him—the same soldier I threatened at the village, the one who refused to give rations. “It needs help!”
“Yeah!” a female voice cracks. “It was in near ruin!”
“I’m from Pirlem,” a girl yells, brushing her ash-brown hair from her face. “Lived in ruin for as long as I can remember. How will you keep the Front safe if we’re pulling out the defenses?”
Another voice cuts through the din, sharp with frustration. “This plan will get us killed!” His tone is sharp with frustration. A low rumble spread through the room—uneasy at first, then louder.
“Yeah!”
“We need to think of the villagers! They’re the ones dealing with all the labor! All the work, and they starve for it!” More voices join in, overlapping in rising waves of unrest.
