Page 39 of The Last Dragon
Her voice is low, urgent, grounding. Another impact slams nearby. Stone rains down like fire. Only then do I realize that fear is clawing its way up my throat again. I need to focus.
A sudden roar shakes the Stronghold’s walls, followed by the low grind of shifting cogwheels as the Defenders reposition the ballistas.
A dragon.
Here. At the Stronghold.
How?
My mind races. Did it destroy the villages? How many have died? Was there a warning, or did Scouts miss it?
I grab Nida’s hand, dragging her with the flow of the crowd as they make their exit, some with frantic screams, others driven by adrenaline and the urge to join the fight. For some reason, I feel both. A lieutenant barks orders as another commander enters the premises, directing each unit to where they need to be.
I spot a cadet hauling herself up, just inches from the crater made by the first slab of stone. Her partner’s severed arm lies in front of her. She quickly jumps up, no emotion in sight. Lieutenant Wain rushes to pull her free, a Medic in green-gray battle robes closing in, vials clinking at her belt.
“Wain!” I shout, waving her toward me. She rushes my way, dodging smaller debris falling from above, white dust smeared on her ebony cheeks.
“We need to get out there,” she says with a panting breath. I nod, my eyes scanning the chaotic mess by the exit. Pressure tightens around my fingers, and only then do I notice Nida’s hand wrapped around mine. Warm.
Screams pierce the air. A deep roar follows, rattling the stone.
Wain looks at me.
“Can you lead!?” she yells through the roar. In this chaos? No formation, no strategy.Just like last time.
“Yes!” I respond instinctively, even though every bone in my body tells me not to. Now, for this moment—I am a commander.
We push our way through the crowd and into the open halls, soldiers stream from every corner, rushing toward the exterior.My heart hammers in my chest, and a faint ringing noise fills my ears. I catch a glimpse of Raumen, dashing inside from the battlements while hastily removing his helm. His eyes lock onto mine, his expression filled with frantic urgency.
“It’s bad out there,” he says, panting, sweat running down his face as he attempts to wipe it off with his hand. “My partner’s dead. The dragon slammed into the East Wing, bringing a chunk of the tower down on the ballista. Without another Defender beside me, I’m useless—the ballistas are too heavy. And there’s no time to find one.”
Shit.
If a ballista is down, it’s more serious than I thought.
“Have you seen Ilian and Eryca?” I ask.
He points toward the West Wing limply, the weight of his armor wearing him down in the oppressive heat. “The field.” He blurts out as much information as possible to me.
Even though it’s fragmented, I can put two and two together. There was no signal. No Scouts. And no preparation work. This happened out of nowhere. I take a step forward ready to enter the battlements but Raumen halts me.
“Listen, Zel,” he says as he tries to catch his breath. “I can’t control the ballista on my own, and I can’t go looking for a spare Defender. I’ll have to go out there.”
I shake my head, hoping he’ll catch on to how ridiculous that is.
“No, you stay here,” I say, my arm on his shoulder. “See what others need, lead them out to safety from the Stronghold. That’s still a Defender’s job. If that thing crashes again, more people are going to die.” His blue eyes waver, unsure. He nods, pats my shoulder, and bolts toward the safe zone.
Another deafening roar shakes the air. The rocks rumble, sounding like they’re barely holding together. I snatch a bow from the spare rack in the hall. It’s light, catching me off guard,the handle thin enough to grip fully. My own bow is still in my room, so this will have to do. Without a word, Nida tightens her belt and preps water bombs—just in case the Redsnout ignites. Fighting a Redsnout means fire isn’t as common as other dragons, but when it does ignite, it’s blistering—the type of fire that feels like standing next to the sun. If the flames don’t kill you, the heat will.
Light blinds me the minute I step outside. The roaring screams and the thunder of catapulting bolts from the ballistas fill the air. Countless soldiers scramble, jostling for space, their formation all but lost. Blood is pooled on the ground, splattered on the walls. It’s chaos.
I need to lead them.
I need to do something.
The dragon circles high above, swirling and diving in the sky, making it harder for the massive ballistas to aim their spear-sized arrows. Nida lifts her finger, pointing at the beast as she analyzes its course and behavior.
“It’s pissed,” she croaks.
