Page 30 of The Last Dragon (The Great Burn Chronicles #1)

F ive days have passed since the first sighting of the dragon.

And five days it took us to clear the bodies and mourn the losses.

And after that, there is only one thing to do—drink away the sorrows at the nearby tavern.

The night brings a cold, bitter breeze along the moonlit cobblestone path from the Hold to Nedersen, the closest village to the Stronghold in the Front.

Not far away, the village is beautifully lit up—a mixture of cool colors from the full moon and the warm tones dancing from campfires. Nedersen is known for its stony houses and lit-up roads.

A sweet smell of soft sugar buns tempts my nose the closer we get.

Most of the food that’s transported to the Third comes from other Strongholds or Nedersen—the village with the most fertile land in the Front.

The rest of the food comes from villages in the Middle—closest to the Center and the Black Mountain. That’s also the safest place.

I rarely set foot in the tavern in Nedersen for one simple reason—it’s owned by Valous.

A rat. A snake. Someone who got their ears clipped because he cared more about his own side-business than humanity’s survival, and he used the soldiers’ dirty little secrets to run it.

He even abandoned his own unit during one of the bloodiest battles humanity ever had to face.

My unit. And I will never forgive him for that.

Raumen and Ilian insisted I go now that I’m officially part of their unit.

Both of them claim we would be a better team if we got closer and would improve our teamwork.

I don’t disagree. We should be a team, but Eryca still carries a grudge for me leaving the unit in the first place.

At least she’s talking to me again. Nida trots in front of me, taking two steps rapidly as I only took one, my shadow towering over her, blocking the moonlight.

I’m forced into a brief halt so as not to step on her heels as she slows down.

Raumen, Sam, Ilian, and Eryca walk slightly farther ahead of us.

They’re only audible when they speak loudly.

Unless it’s Sam. He’s hard to make out.“Have you ever been to Nedersen before?” she asks.

I shake my head.“It’s beautiful there,” she says, a smile curving her lips.

“You’ve been there?”She nods. “My mother is from Nedersen. She was responsible for certain crops there.”“Right,” I say solemnly.

“You wanted to be a botanist.”Her smile suddenly disappears.

“A dream I couldn’t pursue. Not after my brother.

Not after Pirlem.” Her voice is laced with sorrow and a persistent grief and perhaps even anger.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” I say, and she shakes her head.

“It was his choice. I only wish he could be here with me.”“Do you think you can cut it here?”She shrugs, covering herself with her arms as if trying to make the cold go away.

“I know I have what it takes.” She says, determination in her voice.

I’m surprised to hear that from her. I expected to see some doubt in her eyes, a trace of longing for the life she once had.

But the more I search for the girl who used to run through the village with flowers woven into her braids, the more I realize that girl is no longer there.

Her hair now loose, and the flowers long wilted.

Her body is built with muscle, in contrast to the thin figure she had as a child.

Weak. Frail. Starvation taking over. I don’t see that weakness anymore.

She watches Raumen and Ilian push each other around a few steps ahead, laughing and yelling, whilst Eryca throws her head up to watch the stars, Sam beside her.

Nida turns to the side, eyes widening at something behind me.

I turn to peek over my shoulder, and a shadowy figure hiding from all light rapidly approaches us, mumbling.

Before I can blink or move, light from torches lights up the figure’s face.

It’s Alex. He halts at the sight of us, surprised that we noticed him, before shuffling toward us, slower, a dagger in his hand.

“You again,” I say, instinctively pushing Nida behind me.

“Relax,” he says, throwing a knife in the air before catching it by the blade. “Overheard about this tavern place, figured I’d check it out.”

I scoff. “Can’t stay away from people’s business, I see.”

“Not my fault your unit announces everything you’re gonna do.”

“They’re your unit too,” I seethe. “Or did you forget how you forced yourself into it? Maybe you’ll learn how to get out of other people’s business.”

“Well, if you learn to tell me shit, then maybe I wouldn’t have to pry.”

A dagger in your throat would do just as well.

“I said it before, Alex, getting to know us isn’t going to be that easy.”

Nida taps my shoulder, angling her body toward the four idiots in front—making a scene, as always—as if to tell me not to waste my breath on him.

I pivot and walk away, Nida right behind me.

I hear a scoff from Alex before he shuffles his legs, keeping a short distance behind us.

His knowing about the dragon makes things a whole lot more complicated, and I can’t deal with that right now.

I might as well start figuring out how to separate his head from his body before he runs off squealing to the general.

The tavern doors creak as they open and two villagers come out, leaning against one another for support as they stumble down the wooden stairs.

Their laughter echoes through the night.

Upon entering the tavern, it’s emptier as I expected.

But still enough to make the room feel crowded.

Two men sit at the corner by a heavy wooden table, the sound of metal against wood rattling as coins pour out from a leather pouch.

I count five silvers before darting my eyes to the barkeep, clearing out the empty tankards from the counterboard.

With every step deeper into the room, the smell of sweat and salt takes over.

I wrinkle my nose in disgust, slightly shifting to the side to avoid the stench.

The rest don’t seem to be bothered by it as much as I am, but I’m assuming they are used to it, given that they spend more time in places like this than I do.

The sound of the bard playing a lute fills the room—old songs and tunes that speak of our history, the dragons, the old knights, and the five Divines.

Nida joins up with the rest of the unit, occupying a large seating area by the window. Ilian already has two tankards of sweet ale. Alex not far behind.

I lean on the bar counter, instructing the barkeep to bring me a tankard of simple sweet booze as I toss a one-piece silver his way. His eyes gleam with slight concern before I wave my hand at him, telling him to keep the change.

I sit at the furthest corner of the table, pondering over things that had taken place five days ago. Deaths are common in the Corps. But something doesn’t feel right, and guilt forms inside my stomach. Have I missed something? Have I overlooked something? Did I cause all of this to happen?

I shouldn’t think about it. I should try to find ways to let go.

A clunk and shudder of the table jolts me from my thoughts. I rub my hands on my pants. Laughter spills, Ilian already chugging his second tankard, and right after, Raumen pats his back so he doesn’t choke. Even Eryca wears a smile.

I think back to what Wain said. You should be with them more. Makes you a better person, and a better soldier. Maybe she’s right.

“How does it feel to be back?” Ilian asks Raumen once the laughter fades.

“Well, it still has the same smell,” he comments, and everyone chuckles.

“The smell of liquor?” Eryca says.

“That too, but also the smell of buns and freshly baked bread! Did you guys smell it outside?” Raumen beams, spilling foamy ale on the old, scratched table as he leans forward, a little bit too excited.

“I know I did,” Nida says. “It’s always like that here.”

“You’ve been in Nedersen before?” Eryca asks, taking a sip from her drink.

Nida nods, a soft smile appearing on her face, revealing her dimples. “My mother is from Nedersen.”

“Really?” Ilian says, grabbing a piece of bread from the barkeep before he even has the chance to put the plate down. “So you’re from here?”

Nida shakes her head. “No. My father is from Pirlem. They met during Market Day. While selling her herbs, she realized she needed something to carry them around that wasn’t just a tied-up cloth. He sold woven baskets.”

“So is that how you learned to weave?” Sam asks, pointing at Nida’s wrist. On her left hand, there’s a bracelet woven from dried linen and hemp. The one I made her when we were kids. Or tried at least. She helped me perfect it.

All this time, it was carefully tucked in behind her sleeve. Air struggles to fill my tight lungs.

Nida brings the bracelet forward more. “Yes,” she says with a slow nod. “I wanted to help sell more trinkets, in hopes they would attract more customers from places like the Middle.”

“I’d definitely buy one,” Eryca comments, leaning in to get a closer look.

Sam nods in approval. “Me too.”

“I wove it when I was nine!”

“Nine?” Ilian exclaims, pushing Eryca away to get a better look.

“You had talent!” Raumen laughs. They continue to comment on her bracelet, and I notice how Nida’s eyes stray to my wrists. The one she weaved for me isn’t there. Disappointment flickers across her face, and she returns to the others.