Page 32 of The Last Dragon

Cassian glanced in the elf’s direction, but only dead trees greeted him… Good man, he thought, and don’t look back.

Seemingly annoyed with Cassian’s inattention, Phineas spat with a scowl, “Cassian, the mercenary with mysterious abilities. Smart, gifted with a sharp tongue—though I’d gladly cut that tongue out to silence your insolence.”

With a wicked smile dancing on his lips, Cassian took a step back as the prince approached dangerously, a dark energy manifesting in dark, oily tendrils emanating from the palm of his hand.

“What can I do to rally you to my cause without having to hurt you every time?”

“If your cause is to kill the last dragon, I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do.”

“Should I ask your elven friend, then?”

“You have no intention whatsoever of asking him anything; you just want his head on a platter to satisfy your wounded ego.”

Phineas’s features hardened. With a sharp movement, he drew his sword, its blade shimmering with a dark glow.

“Watch your words, mercenary.”

“Why? Are you going to kill me too?”

At Cassian’s taunt, Phineas took a deep breath and lowered his weapon, sizing up the mercenary with barely concealed contempt.

“No, you’re still useful to me. Although… I do wonder why you don’t want to kill this beast, when you’re perfectly capable of doing so.”

“If an entire army were incapable of it, do you really think it’s possible to kill a dragon prince at the hands of a single man? You know nothing about dragons. You’re all terrified, to the point of sacrificing people who don’t stand a chance, throwing your men into battle like pig feed.”

The very air seemed to vibrate as the temperature rose sharply, reflecting Cassian’s pent-up anger. Phineas stepped forward again, his gaze hard, jaw clenched.

“Are you comparing my will to that of the elves?”

“Yes. You’re looking for a chosen one where there isn’t any. The elves sent Tariel, and you’re looking for a hero who will save your skin while ignoring the inevitable: the dragon will make short work of him, and you won’t even have time to hear the news before everything has vanished in its flames.”

“Silence! I refuse to hear such insults!”

With an enraged cry, the prince swung his sword at Cassian, but this time, the blade struck nothing but air.

Cassian raised his hand in a swift, abrupt gesture. A blast erupted from his palm—a searing shockwave that struck the sword head-on and deflected it to the side. The impact sent Phineas stumbling back several steps, his boots scraping against the stone as the air vibrated around them in a low rumble.

The magic was still crackling and sizzling when Cassian spoke again, standing motionless at the center of the turmoil. “You’re afraid… you’re all afraid… and you’re right to be, because this is only the beginning of your end. He is the nightmare from which the people will never recover, and you will all vanish under the force of his vengeance. You made a mistake, you left one of them alive, and his people will rise and conquer, for Drakensyl cannot die as long as fire blazes.”

“You speak like a traitor, Cassian.”

“The true traitor is the one who turns a blind eye to the massacre of a nation for the sake of an alliance.”

Phineas raised his weapon, his gaze burning with hatred. Around them, the soldiers hesitated, frozen by the crushing pressure of the energy saturating the air. Cassian took a step forward in turn, the fire already creeping beneath his skin as flames licked up his arms.

“Are you going to fight, Cassian?”

“Only if we’re on equal footing.”

A shrill screech suddenly pierced the air.

The crypt’s griffin soared down from above, hovering in the air before diving toward them. Its immense wings whipped up a gust of wind that sent ash and dust flying, causing the soldiers to recoil. Under the prince’s icy gaze, the creature circled widely before landing heavily in front of Cassian, letting out a hoarse cry that forced the soldiers to break ranks.

The griffin turned its head toward him, and Cassian didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, grabbed hold of the fur mixed with feathers, and hoisted himself onto its back just as the beast took flight with a sharp flap of its wings.

“Don’t let him get away!”

But the griffin was already leaving the ground, the mercenary perched on its back.