Page 42 of The Last Dragon (The Great Burn Chronicles #1)

“The dragon you’re going to face is not just any Redsnout,” says Commandant Tenwill, head of the Trackers, as he approaches the machine.

The metal of his soles taps on the wooden platform.

“Its adaptation these past few years has proven remarkable, and certain behaviors that are typical to its species have become varied. Unpredictable. Meaning that not only must you work with your eyes and the knowledge you possess, but also your senses. All of your senses.”

His imposing figure seems smaller when he stands in the shadow of the machine.

He’s taught me solid tactics for handling a Redsnout, but when it comes to Stonetails, his knowledge is unmatched.

Teaching Trackers how to distract a Stonetail is one thing, but knowing when to ignore all your teachings and improvise is another.

I’ve only seen him once in battle against a Stonetail, but if it wasn’t for him, I doubt the Third would still be standing.

“This machine has been constructed by our scientist, Hetre Tenwill, together with Ligerion, which slightly mimics the engaging attacks of a dragon,” says Commandant Tenwill, pointing to his brother standing inches away from the contraption.

“The attacks are random, not rhythmic, meaning you’ll have to use your instincts to counter these attacks.

The prime focus of this creation is the tail.

” He gestures toward the long, pillowed log stretching across the platform.

“This represents that tail.” He runs his hand along the log, dragging it from one side to the end.

“Over the past years, we have analyzed Redsnout behavior, and despite their keen usage of fire, Redsnouts became more reliant on their tail. This makes it more difficult to approach the dragon from behind, which is the safest place for us to be. Well, was .”

The contraption is complex, with several cogwheels attached to the bottom for rotation.

There are different-sized bumps scattered around the platform under the machine.

I assume it’s for randomizing tail movement.

In front of the machine, there’s a large lever attaching itself at the base of the tail.

Probably for someone to shift the entire contraption to randomize and control the tail movements even more.

The more I analyze the machine, the more it seems familiar.

I think I saw Ligerion’s sketches on the first day I joined the Corps.

I can’t shake off the feeling that someone else was there with us. But I can’t remember who.

“That thing looks like it can kill you faster than a Stonetail.” Raumen smirks. Ilian and Eryca snicker at his remark whilst I roll my eyes.

“Even in armor?” Nida cranes her neck to glance at Raumen.

“ Especially in armor,” he retorts. He leans in and gives Nida a wink as they continue to mock the contraption. I lean back a bit, darting my eyes between them, watching them.

“This contraption was designed for cadets from the second year and up. First-years might find this a little bit more challenging. Dangerous even. However, we all came to an agreement that, due to recent events, it’s crucial to” —Tenwill clears his throat— “speed things up, since most first-years will be joining the next expedition.” Grunts of unhappy first-years echo through the training room.

“It’s possible to make it go slower so you can adjust to it without getting injured,” Lorren adds. “But practice your speed. Anticipate the movements.”

Ilian tilts his head, scanning the contraption. He looks at me, then back at the wooden tail perched on the platform.

“Looks like a piece of junk,” he mutters, and Commandant Lorren notices Ilian’s smirk.

“Blindfolded?!” Ilian exclaims with his hands curved into upright claws. “How am I supposed to avoid the tail blindfolded ?”

Ilian has tried the machine a few times now, easily mocking it while dodging its blows. The movements may be random, but if you can see, reacting is easy. Put on a blindfold, though, and you’re forced to rely on your other senses.

“Don’t worry!” Commandant Lorren chuckles. “The tail is covered in soft cushions. The worst that can happen is a broken nose and a concussion.” Ilian’s jaw drops to the floor, and mine isn’t far behind. “We’ll start at a slower speed and then we will gradually increase it as you adapt and improve.”

I’m not sure if I want Ilian with a broken nose and a concussion weeks before the expedition. But knowing Commandant Lorren, he’s probably joking.

Ilian shoots a pleading gaze at me. He’s hoping that I can give him a logical explanation of why he should avoid this type of training, but I have nothing, and I shrug at him.

“Adapt and improve,” I say, with a gentle smirk. His eyes darken and narrow, as if all of his trust in me evaporates. Eryca crosses her arms, a glimmer appearing in her eyes. Something tells me she’s going to enjoy this more than I will.

A sixth-year cadet ties a dark band around Ilian’s eyes, completely obstructing his vision.

He stays still, listening to Commandant Lorren as he instructs Ilian on how to focus on his other senses.

Hearing, touch, intuition. He turns his head to the side as if attempting to look at me, but ends up looking slightly to the left, facing the wall.

That forces a chuckle out of me. Based on his frown, he’s confused for a moment.

The Commandant turns him forward, kicking Ilian’s feet to adjust his stance.

“Now remember, a real-life situation is not even as close as what you’ll experience here,” says Tenwill, his hands on Ilian’s shoulders. “This is only practice for you to use your senses. Winning here doesn’t mean you win on the battlefield. But it sure as hell increases the odds.”

Ilian nods, signaling that he’s ready to engage the contraption. He stands with his feet shoulder-width apart, bracing for the impact. Everyone gathers around, holding their breath and watching Ilian tense up with every moment as the machine begins to rattle.

“We’ll start slow!” Tenwill exclaims and signals one of the cadets to begin rotating the machine. Another soldier grabs the large lever, pulling it up and down and forward and back, engaging both the cogwheels for rotating the tail.

The cushioned tail begins to swirl. Ilian squeals as he attempts to dodge it, only to get the tail right into his chest, knocking the wind out of him.

He clings to the tail to keep from being slammed to the ground.

Everyone winces as Ilian struggles to catch his breath, then lets go and rolls away.

He leaps to his feet. Resilient, I’ll give him that.

As the Commandant said, this machine doesn’t fully mimic real-life situations.

But learning to rely on more than just your eyes—engaging your whole body—might offer its own advantages.

Ilian tries again, but with the same result—the tail knocks him down.

He clenches his fist, a curse escaping his lips, and the room fills with snickers.

The stress is getting to him. Focus, Ilian.

Third attempt. Third time he’s dusting the floor.

A sharp grunt escapes his lungs as he stumbles backwards, clutching his chest where the tail impacted.

“Control your emotions!” yells out Lorren. “You’re in control, not them. Shut them off and focus !” He normally doesn’t speak much, but his command sticks close, especially for us Hunters.

Shut them off.

Shut all your feelings off—all of your emotions.

It’s what we are taught from day one as trainees.

Emotions generate doubt, and doubt takes up far too much time to make a decision.

If you’re unable to decide because your emotions have distracted you, then you’re a dead man breathing.

Even General Grogol pushes this ideology.

Sometimes even more than the commandants or lieutenants.

Ilian relaxes and slows down his breathing.

His grip loosens and he turns his head slowly—listening.

Commandant Lorren raises a hand, signaling the soldiers to engage.

They pull the lever, sending the tail hurtling straight toward Ilian’s legs.

Everyone holds their breath. He leaps forward, vaulting to the side and sliding under the tail.

He jumps to his feet, and the crowd claps.

Cheers of his name ripple across the training ground, and he removes his blindfold—eyes wide in surprise.

He throws his hands up in the air, cheering together with the crowd.

Beside me, Nida roots for him—louder than anyone else, clapping her hands together.

“You go, Ilian!” she yells, a subtle smile blooming on her lips, and Ilian turns her way, pointing at her with a wide grin.

It makes me think, perhaps cheering on your squadmates isn’t such a bad thing.

Even if it means turning on your feelings.

Even just for a moment Maybe that’s what separates us from the beasts beyond the outskirts of the Hold.

We don’t need to shut off our emotions all the time. Only when necessary.

I join the cheer, and push forward through the crowd.

“Well done!” Tenwill claps. In contrast to Commander Lorren, Commander Tenwill is a cheerful man and encourages us to cheer each other on and celebrate small victories.

He’s against the idea of having to become a monotone, emotionless vessel.

Instead, he believes that emotions help us evaluate how survivable a situation is.

Even the bravest of men can become cowards.

But not many follow his teachings. Lorren, on the other hand, together with General Grogol, has been hammering their teachings that have been passed over for centuries.

That’s the only way you can beat somebody as vile as a dragon—a creature with no remorse. A savage.

I approach Ilian, rolling my eyes at his smug grin. Told you I could do it , I can practically hear him say. Not that I ever doubted him. Not for a second.

“Would you look at that,” I say, folding my arms across my chest. “He can dodge.”

He chuckles, but it fades into a soft grunt—a sharp reminder of the pain from taking too many tails to the chest. I hope his ribs are intact—though the tail did go slow. He shakes his head, and Eryca grabs his arm to hold him steady.

“That must’ve been exhausting,” she says with a grin.

“Normally you’d stay as far away as possible from a dragon, ain’t that right, Zel?” His eyes glimmer, and I nod at his remark. He shifts slightly, tilting his head toward the machine. “Your turn?”

I shrug. Might as well try this thing. Since I’m the one who’s been closest to a dragon out of all of them.

Eryca and Ilian stride off to the side as I gesture to the Commandants that I’m willing to try it out next.

Lorren seems pleased when I step on the platform—a sly smile forming under his graying mustache.

He gestures to the soldier to prepare the machine before turning to me again.

“Since it’s you, Zel,” he says, patting my back. “I think we will start a bit faster.”

“Wait, what?” I say, furrowing my brows and pausing mid-step toward the machine. I turn to face my unit. Ilian is clearly pleased with the commandant’s decision.

“Adapt and improve, Zel,” he says with a sinister grin. I puff air out of my lungs in a sigh, not sure if I’m willing to get beaten up by this… thing .

I glance at the crowd, scanning the cadets who are in awe, unsure what to expect.

Ilian tries to hide his laughter by pinching his nose, an occasional snort escaping.

Eryca rolls her eyes, whilst Nida watches my every move.

At first, as I approach the contraption, I am not sure what I want to prove.

But knowing that she’s watching me makes me want to give it my all.

I relax my muscles as the blindfold is tied. I feel a gentle pat on my shoulder.

“Don’t hold back.” A faint whisper reaches my ears from Commandant Lorren.

I shift my weight, grounding myself. My focus shifts to my fingertips, feeling the steadiness of my hand.

No twitch. No pain. Then I focus on my feet—the smooth ground beneath my boot.

Finally, I listen to the machine—a subtle click of the soldier’s lever reaching my right ear, and I shift my body toward the sound.

I hear everything. The pause before the release of the lever.

The muscle contraction of the soldier who controls the machine, maneuvering the tail in different directions.

The grinding of two cogwheels, manipulating the speed.

And before the release, I know from which direction the impact will come.

At a slight scrape of metal, I duck, grinning as the tail hisses over me.

My body moves again before I can think, sidestepping the sudden upward swing.

The tail slams down, shaking the ground beneath my feet.

My heart pounds, adrenaline making its way through my body, heightening my senses.

I can hear it—feel it—as the density of the air shifts before a sudden lift of the tail.

I feel it behind me as I stand up, cutting the air like a sharp dagger.

It rushes toward me again, and I step two paces to the side, letting the tail crash into the ground.

As it lifts, I’m already ready for it. Once more, it hisses, and I quickly duck—only the air grazes me.

I breathe out, and I hear a bored tsk from Commandant Lorren.

The crowd gasps, mutters fill the grounds, and the screeching cogwheels halt. The contraption stills.

Commandant Lorren steps in, patting me on the back—proud.

I inhale another breath, removing the blindfold, bright light briefly blinding me.

I scan the crowd, looking for the amber eyes—silently hoping they’re watching me.

And they are. Wide with surprise, amusement—perhaps a hint of fear.

But I’m not bothered. She’s watching me. There’s a brief flutter in my chest.