Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
IAN
There are creatures haunting us—dogging our every step.
My high major thinks I’m crazy, but I’ve seen things at night, too large to be human and too human to be beast. Just two nights ago I saw a large man prowling in the shadows along the camp, but when I went to confront him, he was gone—a wolf in his place, bounding away.
I know I can’t abandon my unit, but I don’t trust this forest. No one will listen, but I know you will not ignore me, my love.
“Can you tell me how he looked?” Paoletta Ocon was sitting on the small cot they’d brought for her, a shawl draped across her shoulders and the bowl of beans Ian had just delivered held tightly.
Ian looked around him. Harlow was elsewhere in the camp, though it was his tent she was staying in.
“He was fine—okay,” he said, unsure of what he could say. Unsure of what she knew.
She nodded, studying her bowl of beans before opening her mouth again.
“I have to go,” he said before she could ask him more questions.
He ran out of the tent feeling a coward, but too tired to care.
She’d been asking after Fox for two days since they’d arrived at camp.
He knew Harlow had told her that Fox had killed her husband after his escape—everyone knew.
Her screams could be heard at the far end of the camp where the dragons were being kept.
The news seemed to break something in her, but it hadn’t stopped her from asking after her son every time Ian saw her, even in passing.
He couldn’t stand the look in her eyes, a mixture of betrayal and hurt.
He always looked away quickly, too afraid to see hatred.
Did she hate Fox? Would she have hated Leon if she had known?
Ian couldn’t know. Not when he had to keep breathing and functioning.
He didn’t slow down until he was on the other side of the camp, where the rest of the soldiers were eating dinner around the various fires. He saw one group passing around a half-full bottle of liquor and beelined their way.
Harlow had insisted on packing five cases of whisky, and now Ian understood why.
The nights were freezing and the days bleak out here.
Clouds had blown in on their first night at the camp and hadn’t left since, a fine mist of rain and snow occasionally falling.
The snow was never enough to fully cover the ground, leaving it muddy and the soldiers all the more miserable.
The alcohol was the only thing keeping them sane at night.
And based on the fencing Harlow had ordered built around the perimeter of the camp, it didn’t seem like they’d be leaving anytime soon.
When Harlow arrived, he’d decided to set up the base camp on the edge of the mountains, within the protection of the trees. It was safer and warmer here than it would have been in the pass, without being either safe or warm.
Even with the recent victory that should be buoying their spirits, no one seemed particularly happy tonight. Perhaps it was because none of the soldiers trusted the dragons, even after Harlow had proven their complacency.
“I swear to the kings those creatures are cursing us,” one of the men said.
“The cold season is setting in,” another said. “It could be a coincidence.”
“You didn’t see those beasts when they flew in, Fini,” the first man said. “They had clouds following them. This shit is all them.”
“You sound like Nesto, Jordi,” Fini said, laughing and nudging the small soldier next to him. The kid’s cheeks went red. Ian guessed that was Nesto. “You’re talking about magic and curses.”
“Either way, I’m over this shit. All this for some useless beasts,” Jordi sneered.
“Not useless,” Ian said as he sat down, grabbing the bottle without asking. He outranked most of them at this point. He had a shiny, new junior major badge on his chest.
The group went quiet, and Ian realized they knew exactly who he was. The small crew of soldiers that had come with Harlow and the dragons now had their own level of clout among the group.
“Tell them I ain’t crazy,” Jordi said, pointing a finger at the others accusingly. “Those things have—”
“Magic?” Ian asked, taking a swig of the liquor and closing his eyes as it burned down his throat.
He hadn’t had a drink in a few days, and his body was starting to feel its absence.
His muscles immediately relaxed, and he opened his eyes to see the others staring at him, waiting.
“Yeah. They do. Those creatures can create ice, water, and snow. I’m sure there’s other shit we don’t know about yet.
But don’t let Harlow catch you saying they’re useless.
Those creatures are going to win us the war, don’t you know?
” He bit the last words out, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.
“Well, if we have such control over the beasts, why are they making this miserable snow?”
Ian shrugged and took another swig before reluctantly letting Fini take it from him.
“The moisture is good for the forest, though,” the young soldier—Nesto—said, tone just as sheepish as his blush. “It’s fascinating how the forest survived as well as it did without it. Theoretically, before the dragons were pushed out of Wueco, this entire forest would have been like this.”
“Wet, muddy, and shitty?” Jordi said, scoffing. “Glad we wiped them out then.”
“He has a good point,” Ian said, giving Nesto’s shoulder a soft slap. “Imagine if the farmlands had this much rain instead of having to set up such elaborate irrigation systems.”
Harlow had been trying to harness the power of the dragons to do just that. Ian had found out that the flood in the farmlands, which had ruined the crop, had been a mishap with his black dragon.
Fini leaned forward, liquor thick on his breath. “Be careful with that kid.” He pointed at Nesto. “He was friends with the traitor and let him escape the first time.”
“I didn’t let him escape!” Nesto snapped. “He had a fucking dragon, and the king-damned dragon witch threatened to cut my tongue out. I still escaped and warned everyone.”
Ian nearly snorted at the description of Sofia. It was fitting.
A distant roar from the dragon’s enclosure cut off their conversation, and the group froze. Birds squawked as they fled from the trees, sending ice down Ian’s spine. The dragon seemed to calm down, and after a few more moments of silence, the group relaxed as one, Fini passing the bottle to Jordi.
“I don’t trust those beasts, and I don’t trust this forest,” Jordi said.
“Afraid of the monsters?” Fini asked, jabbing his side.
Ian didn’t know the context of the comment, but Nesto was blushing again, and the others laughed.
“You all saw what killed Immanuel,” he said defensively.
“I saw a shadow. It could have been anything,” Fini said, shrugging.
“Ocon probably was killing all the soldiers himself, inventing monsters to blame,” Jordi said. “I don’t know if you’re stupid or complicit for believing him.”
Nesto stood, not quite looking at the others as he walked away, his blush going red.
The others burst into laughter, and Ian stood, giving them a nod as he walked away, not quite following Nesto until he was out of the direct light of the fire. Dusk had turned to night over the past hour, and it was easy to slip into the shadows.
“I don’t doubt you saw monsters out there,” Ian said as he approached behind Nesto. The boy jumped, but he kept talking. “It’s kind of ignorant to see a dragon and then claim no other monsters can exist.”
“They didn’t see the worst of it,” Nesto said, stopping in his tracks. Ian nearly ran into him.
“The worst of it?”
Nesto didn’t answer immediately, studying Ian.
“They blamed Ocon and the dragon for Belni, Gilian, and Rom’s deaths, but there was something else there. Something...” He cut himself off. “It doesn’t matter. I let Ocon get away.”
“I knew Ocon, too,” Ian said, tone careful, trying to read Nesto’s face. “He didn’t seem the traitor type. You couldn’t have seen it coming.”
Nesto scowled. “I thought he was a friend.”
Before Ian could say anything more, Nesto was walking away, his message clear: leave me alone.
Ian almost ignored the cue. He almost followed him, but a dragon roared in the distance again, and he turned to see a soldier racing across the camp, heading toward Harlow’s tent. He followed, not quite catching up with the soldier before he had announced himself at the entrance of the tent.
“Sir,” the soldier said, panting slightly from his run. “The things you called are here.”
Ian heard the disgust in the word, and he had to wonder just what was standing outside the camp waiting on Harlow.
“Perfect,” Harlow said, already coming out of the tent, buttoning his coat. “Ensure the archers are ready, just in case. I’ll meet them at the northern gate.”