Page 31 of The Last Dragon (The Great Burn Chronicles #1)

The barkeep returns from the countertop and places the liquor next to me.

I dip my head as a thanks, and he proceeds to tend to other customers.

We sit in silence as the room fills with more people.

The sound of chattering and clinking tankards spreads as people get their orders.

Now and then, a door or chair creaks, heavy footsteps groan against the wooden floor, or chairs scrape and leave marks behind.

In a matter of moments, the shallow room fills, nearly all tables occupied.

Different aromas take over as people pass with sweet buns or salty booze in hand.

The lute plays in the distance, the bard singing along.

When a mother sleeps

Deep in the gloom

She cradles her babe

Whose eyes shun the moon

When a mother wakes

Her tears turn to rain

She calls for her child

But silence remains

The fire cracks

The stories fade

The dragon comes

And burns all you’ve made

I rake the room with my eyes. In the farthest, darkest corner, a cloaked figure waits at a table.

I can’t see his face, but it almost feels like he’s watching me.

The longer I stare, the more a shiver crawls down my spine.

Is it an Acolyte? Yet his cloak is different.

It’s dark gray and green, ripped in different places.

Acolytes usually wear black, with intricate detail in their cloaks and a metal necklace with a rigid stone as a pendant.

But he had none of those. And Acolytes, when amongst people, would preach about the Mother and the Black Mountain.

Alex plays around with throwing knives by the barkeep. He’s an exceptional sharpshooter, I’ll give him that. Every knife he throws is a bullseye.

“Nice to have you here, bud,” the voice sounds, and I turn forward, Raumen offering one of his soft smiles. I look down at my tankard, haven’t yet taken a sip.

“As if I had a choice,” I say, a laugh stuck in my throat.

He laughs, shaking his head. “Not with us, no.”

I cringe. “Couldn’t you have picked a different place? It’s too crowded. A lot of people.”

“That’s the point of a tavern. A good way for us to come together as a team!” Ilian adds, biting his piece of bread before pushing it to me. “Want one?”

I reach for it, feeling the crispness in my hand.

“Something less loud would’ve been nice,” I grunt as Ilian proceeds to push the plate around to the rest of the unit.

When Raumen notices that one piece remains, he quickly looks around before catching a glimpse of Alex, already threatening someone with a knife.

He waves to him, calling him closer. Alex hesitates but soon approaches us.

“What do you want?” Alex says, towering over us. Raumen reaches for the plate and gives it to Alex.

“The hell’s this?” Alex sneers.

Raumen is taken aback. “It’s bread.”

“Have you never seen it before?” Ilian says with his mouth full.

Alex scoffs, sneering at Ilian. “Of course I’ve seen it.” He grabs the last bread stick from the plate.

I roll my eyes, muscles slightly tense from Alex being so close. I need him five long steps away from me. From us.

“You alright, bud?” Raumen says, and the sounds of the tavern resume. I haven’t even noticed the silence. I look up at him. “You’ve been staring at the drink for a while now. The foam’s gone.” I glance at the tankard, the white froth fading into the ginger ale.

“If you stare too long, it’ll stare back at you,” Ilian says with a grin.

“No, he’s just trying to murder it with his eyes,” Nida chuckles.

“Hah!” Raumen laughs and then leans in. “It does look like the ale personally offended you.”

I click my tongue.

“Yeah, cheer up a bit,” Alex says. “Show some humanity. Well, we could all use a break from our brooding.” He takes a bite from the bread, a grin forming.

“You want to keep that tongue of yours?” I comment, fingers tightening around the tankard.

He waves his knife around. “Hey man, I’m just saying how it is. I’m sure many would agree with me.”

“Absolutely not,” Ilian replies.

“Never,” Raumen and Ilian say in unison.

Nida adds, “Nope.”

And Sam shakes his head.

Eryca, on the other hand, draws out a “Well…”

Alex’s eyes grow wide. “Well… screw this unit!” he says, cheeks slightly flushed. “So much for looking out for each other.”

“Looking out for each other doesn’t mean threatening them, Alex,” Nida says, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, well… when a dragon is getting ready to scorch you, don’t look at me for help!”

“We wouldn’t have in the first place,“ Eryca comments, and it’s like they’re about to go at each other.

Sam grabs his head, grunting with frustration at the negativity.

He’s not too fond of the animalistic noises that Eryca and Ilian get when they’re at each other’s throats, not to mention when they’re at Alex’s throat.

“Guys!” Raumen says, laughing while trying to make sure Alex doesn’t get to Eryca. “Let’s just get along!” Raumen drags Alex to the bench, scooting and forcing others to move. Luckily, it’s a long enough table to keep four people on one side.

“Just sit with us and enjoy the night!” Raumen says, yet Ilian sneers and rolls his eyes.

“I’d rather get fucked by a dragon,” Alex quips, trying to fight off Raumen’s arm around his neck. Eventually, he escapes and gets to enjoy his bread in peace.

After eating and drinking until our bellies are full, our minds drift to the future.

“So,” Ilian begins, his voice raspy from ale. “What are you guys planning on doing once the last dragon’s slain?” He takes a huge gulp of his drink, eyes sweeping over the table.

Raumen lets out a slight chuckle. “I’m thinking of opening my own bakery shop.” He smiles, arms and hands spread out in excitement. “To carry on my father's legacy. He’s branching out! Might be more than just bread this time.”

“I’ll be your first customer then!” Ilian exclaims, slapping Raumen’s back as he laughs.

“I’ll remain in the Corps,” Eryca says proudly. “I’ll climb the ranks to Lieutenant. Be responsible for those who need strength training. I’d like to lead. You know, protect humanity in other ways.”

She would fit that role. Eryca and Lieutenant Wain are quite alike, both in strength and wit. Nida’s eyes stray, as if she were avoiding Eryca. Instead she focuses on me.

“What about you, little brother?” Eryca raises an eyebrow, focusing on Ilian.

“I’ll have my own farm! Leather making, patching up broken clothes, caring for sheep and calves.

Basically, what I’ve done since I was a kid.

” His voice fills with longing, as if this was something he wanted to do right from the start.

Something he may have seen himself doing instead of joining the Corps. “Sam?”

Sam looks up from his trance, confused at hearing his own name. His eyes trace around our faces, as if he’s hesitant. But we wait patiently.

“Commerce, trade,” he finally says. “I want to help out with the economy in Karalia. Calculating and helping to expand into the further outskirts.” Everyone exclaims in surprise.

“That’s great, Sam!” Raumen says. “You’ll help small farmers who are starting off.”

Sam smiles and nods, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

“You’re the only one I would trust with my money!” Ilian says, laughing it off.

“I don’t think Sam would trust his money with you, though,” Raumen chortles, slapping his back, knocking the air out of Ilian, who chokes on his drink.

They all have dreams. A future they’re imagining after all of this is over. For them, it’s easy to remember their humanity, and abandoning it in the Corps isn’t. I know this question will come my way, but I have no idea what to answer.

“What about you, Nida?” Ilian leans in with a smile.

Her eyes aren’t filled with the same excitement as the rest of them. Instead, they are calm, serious. Carrying something that I can’t really make out. She doesn’t meet anyone’s gaze, instead, it looks like she’s looking straight through me.

“I want to be somebody who has the power to make a change.”

The table falls silent. I inhale sharply, holding my breath as if I’m waiting for her to say something that I wouldn’t want to miss.

“In what way?” Ilian asks, twisting the tankard in his hand.

Nida smiles, shrugging. “Any way. Big or small, whatever would benefit those around us.” Her words linger in the air.

Her presence is still here, but her eyes are somewhere else.

Somewhere distant. She blinks it away, returning from her trance, and drops her gaze to the empty tankard in front of her.

Before the question even got to Alex, he already slipped out. I don’t blame him. It’s not a question I want to answer either.

The table falls silent again and it lingers there for a while. The four leave to grab more booze, or play a game of darts. But Nida and I sit there in silence until a dark voice breaks it.

“You two look like you’re having fun.” My bones shiver at the tone of that voice, laced with sarcasm.

I turn to the table to our right. Sharp, grey, snake-like eyes smudged with black stare at me through drapes of long midnight hair.

He holds a glass of liquor close to his mouth, a smirk playing on his face.

“Valous,” I say, bitterness lacing my tongue, and it’s not from the ale breaking my gaze.

A faint creak of wood against wood and the jiggle of metal reaches me.

Heavy footsteps follow, and his presence closes in, the sharp scent of spice, liquor, and cinnamon making my nose wrinkle.

Before I know it, he grabs the second chair to my right and sits, clinking his glass down on the table.

Nida’s eyes are strained with caution, observing every move he makes, looking for a dagger under his dark cloak.

“Been a while, Zel,” he says, his voice strangely playful, muffled by the glass as he presses it to his lips.

“Not long enough,” I say, my jaw clenched. Nida’s throat moves, swallowing hard, her gaze still on him.