Page 22 of The Last Dragon

He didn’t know if this would work, but Brynjar was nearby, slowly nodding in approval, which gave him the reassurance he needed to continue.

“I’d like to offer you a place to rest here, on the condition that you get us to safety. You can leave whenever you want and return as you please. I’ll never ask you to fight for me, nor to wear that cursed armor. You’d no longer be alone, nor a captive… Isn’t that what you want? “

The elf finally cast a worried glance at Cassian with his emerald eyes. His body was trembling more violently, but this time it wasn’t due to adrenaline: he was running out of strength. If he didn’t get them out of there quickly, they’d all find themselves suspended in midair, right where they’d vanished just moments earlier, along with an angry griffin and two unconscious men.

As an offering, the elf placed a hand over his heart until he drew something from it: a green thread, incredibly fine but exceptionally radiant. It was his soul as he perceived it—or, at least, a part of it—which he held out to the griffin, offering to bind himself to it. If it refused… Tariel was out of ideas. Brynjar, on the other hand, seemed much more confident.

The griffin was calm, but its gaze hadn’t changed. It was then that Cassian’s hand rested on the elf’s wrist—for the first time, with a gentle touch. He paused his gesture in a heavy silence, a sad smile on his lips. This contact startled Tariel, who gazed lost and frightened into his azure eyes. He expected to be reprimanded, to have the man laugh in his face, or—worse—to have their bond severed before he could convince the creature…

But Cassian did none of those things. There was nothing mocking about his smile, and his gaze carried a striking melancholy, stifling any retort that might have crossed the elf’s lips.

“What you’re proposing, Tariel, is… noble. It’s an exchange of trust—of that I have no doubt. But, without meaning to or even realizing it, your gesture resembles that of the Morgraves.”

Cassian’s voice had grown more measured, tinged with restrained sadness. He turned toward the griffin, gazing at the beast and its broken chains. Tariel followed his gaze, and Cassian continued:

“You cannot offer this bond to a being who has only just regained his freedom. As well-intentioned and radiant as you may be… a being born free must remain so. The risk of capture is worth it if he can live free from all bonds, from all outside will. He was born wild, born for the sky, where no one should be able to reach him. Do not impose yet another chain upon him… Leave him the choice: that of his anger, his fear, and his pain. “

As he spoke, Tariel couldn’t take his eyes off him. He knew, deep down, that the mercenary—who certainly no longer seemed like one—was right. He was right on every count, but what other choice did they have? The elf cast a hesitant glance at the beast, then widened his eyes when it simply sat down.

Then he understood: no one would fight, because each had grasped the other’s intention.

Cassian’s movement had once again drawn his attention to their clasped hands in a way that made him shiver. At the man’s words, he plunged his gaze into the other’s eyes once more. Perhaps he would kill the dragon. He did have the power to do so. But did he have the mental fortitude to carry out his mission? To kill such a solitary being? To… eradicate an entire species?

Tariel remained convinced that everyone had their reasons, but he also knew the elves and their paranoia: it was better to nip the problem in the bud before it bit you. That was probably what they’d done with the dragons.

“You have courage, Tariel Elenion. Perhaps you’ll be the one to slay the dragon—who knows?”

Cassian traced another odd symbol with his own blood in the palm of his counterpart and smiled at him once more. Tariel, however, wasn’t smiling: the man’s gaze seemed shattered. As if a revelation had just struck him… and this greatly worried the elf, whose gaze wavered from his palm to the source of the symbol. He stood speechless, and Cassian continued, “When we return, flee as fast and as far as you can.”

His heart ached. Cassian was acting strangely. What both worried and relieved him was seeing his bonds disappear after the man had ordered him to run away. Run away from what? The Morgraves? But run to where? Toward what? Questions began to swirl through his mind again as a faint murmur escaped his lips:

“Cassian, you—”

“Maybe you are different after all.”

A dazzling light enveloped them. Their bodies suddenly reappeared in the real, physical world.

The griffin flapped its wings violently, pulling away from the rocky cliffs to soar over the scorched plains of Morgraves. Then it dipped slightly, losing altitude until it released its load: the bodies plummeted, crashing into the black earth covered in ancient ash.

Ripped from the void, everything hit Tariel with full force—hunger, exhaustion, adrenaline, pain…

“Brynjar…!”

That was the only word that passed his lips before the impact knocked the wind out of him.

The familiar sprang into action immediately, running toward his master while rummaging through his leather pouch to pull out a healing potion. Brynjar always carried the majority of the supplies as a precaution, in case anything happened to the elf.

“Master! My master, are you hurt? Tell me what you need, I beg you! I’m here now!”

The little creature fidgeted frantically while the elf coughed violently, as if he were about to cough up his lungs. He nevertheless managed, with great effort, to sit up. He didn’t answer right away, struggling to catch his breath, then he raised the vial to his lips and drained it in one gulp. Nothing was broken inside him, but the elixir gave him the vital energy he so desperately needed.

Once he’d swallowed the potion, Tariel looked up, seized by a sudden wave of panic. His gaze scanned the expanse of ash surrounding them, vaguely noticing that the bonds chaining his wrists had disappeared entirely.

“Brynjar, where are we?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know, master. We haven’t left the Morgraves’ territory, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re both wanted by now…”

“Ah, Brynjar… I miss the days when you were content just to flatter me…” the elf muttered, aware that his familiar was probably right.