Chapter 19: New Allies and Old Dangers

Chapter 19: New Allies and Old Dangers

Silvia's POV

The caravan was a patchwork of rusted metal, repurposed parts, and stubborn survival. Wagons reinforced with steel plating rolled along the dirt road, pulled by massive mechanical beasts—old-world technology still kicking despite the collapse of the old nations. Silvia eyed the nearest transport, its treads grinding over uneven ground, steam hissing from the exhaust pipes.

"This doesn't scream 'safe passage,'" she muttered under her breath.

Dragon smirked beside her. "It screams 'makeshift survival.' Which means these people know how to handle themselves."

A tall, broad-shouldered man stood at the center of the caravan, shouting orders to the workers loading supplies onto the transports. His coat was patched but well-worn, his belt lined with tools and weapons alike.

"That's the caravan leader," Dragon murmured. "Let me do the talking."

Silvia raised an eyebrow. "You know him?"

Dragon nodded. "Tarren Holt. Ex-mercenary, turned trader. He owes me a favor."

She crossed her arms. "Of course he does."

The Deal

Tarren squinted as they approached, rubbing his stubbled jaw. "Well, well. If it isn't Bromson." His eyes flicked to Silvia, and he let out a low whistle. "Didn't think I'd see you running with company."

Dragon grinned. "I'm full of surprises."

Tarren folded his arms. "And let me guess. You need a ride."

Silvia didn't miss the way the caravan workers subtly reached for their weapons. Travelers had to be cautious these days. Trust was rare.

Dragon tilted his head. "You heading east?"

Tarren nodded. "We are. But we don't take passengers for free."

Dragon tossed him a small metal insignia—one Silvia didn't recognize. Tarren caught it, eyes narrowing as he examined it. Then, after a long pause, he sighed and tucked it into his coat. "Fine. You're in."

Silvia frowned. "That easy?"

Tarren smirked. "Let's just say your friend knows how to cash in favors."

Dragon winked at her. "Told you."

The Journey Begins

They settled into one of the transport wagons, its interior filled with crates of supplies. The caravan moved at a steady pace, the road winding through rocky hills and stretches of desolate land. The air was dry, the scent of rust and burning fuel mixing in the breeze.

Silvia leaned against the wall, watching the landscape roll by. "You're not going to tell me what that insignia was, are you?"

Dragon grinned. "Nope."

She groaned. "You're impossible."

"And you love it."

Before Silvia could retort, a sharp whistle rang through the air. The caravan lurched to a stop.

Tarren's voice echoed from outside. "We've got company!"

Silvia and Dragon exchanged a glance before springing into action.

Ambushed

Silvia jumped from the wagon, landing in a crouch as she scanned the surroundings. Bandits. At least ten of them, spread across the ridges and along the road, weapons drawn. The leader—a wiry man with a patch over his left eye—stepped forward, smirking.

"You folks are carrying quite a haul," he called out. "Be a shame if we had to take it the hard way."

Tarren didn't flinch. "We don't deal with thieves."

The bandit leader grinned, twirling a knife between his fingers. "Then I guess we'll just take what we need."

Dragon sighed. "You guys always go for the cliché lines, huh?"

Before the leader could respond, Dragon moved—a blur of speed as he closed the distance. He grabbed the bandit by the wrist, twisting it sharply. The knife clattered to the ground. Silvia was already moving, fire surging through her veins as she flicked her wrist, sending a controlled blast of heat toward two of the attackers on the ridge. They yelped, scrambling back from the sudden burst of flames.

Gunfire rang out. Silvia ducked behind a crate as bullets pinged off the metal siding of the wagon.

"Cover me!" she called to Dragon.

He nodded, flipping a bandit over his shoulder before kicking another square in the chest. Silvia took advantage of the opening, her fire curling around her fingertips as she launched another wave of heat at the shooters.

Tarren's men fired back, their own weapons cracking in the night. The skirmish lasted only minutes, but the bandits quickly realized they were outmatched.

The leader, now nursing his injured wrist, growled. "You made a mistake."

Dragon smirked. "I do that a lot. Yet here I am."

The bandits retreated, disappearing into the rocky hills.

Tarren dusted off his coat. "You two certainly make things interesting."

Silvia shook her head. "That was too easy."

Tarren nodded grimly. "Which means they'll be back."

Rest and Revelations

As the caravan continued, Silvia sat by the fire that night, staring into the flames. Dragon sat beside her, watching her closely.

"You're thinking too hard," he murmured.

Silvia exhaled. "That attack didn't feel like a random raid. They were waiting for us."

Dragon nodded. "Someone tipped them off."

She glanced at him. "You think it was Tarren?"

Dragon was quiet for a moment before shaking his head. "No. He's rough, but he's not a traitor. Someone else in the caravan, maybe."

Silvia sighed, rubbing her temples. "I don't like this."

Dragon chuckled. "No one does. But that's life."

She rolled her eyes. "Helpful."

He grinned. "I try."

Tarren approached, holding a flask. "We should reach the next city by morning. We'll need to be ready."

Silvia accepted the flask, taking a sip. The liquid burned, but it steadied her nerves. Morning couldn't come soon enough.