“She didn’t. Obviously.” Anger swept through him. He clenched his fists, attempting to stop the tremors. “How long ago was this? Early this morning? Late last night? When?”
“Late last night.” Fenn shook the dirt off a piece of venison, then popped it in his mouth. “She came outside when I was putting out the fire for the night. We had a nice talk about home, but then she started telling me how guilty she felt about Connor’s death.”
“I thought we were going to find medicine first.” Bastian paced, trampling the grass underfoot. “This doesn’t make any sense. Why would she just change her mind and leave for Hutton’s Bridge?”
“She’s a very strong-willed girl. I’m proud of her.” Fenn locked eyes with Bastian. “She was doing this to save you.”
“I don’t need saving.” Bastian picked up a stick and hurled it toward the forest. “I’m going after her.”
“It’s not wise, Bastian,” Fenn said. “You should wait here. You cannot see in the fog like Tressa can with the aid of that owl. Just give her a few days. Hutton’s Bridge isn’t far. It’s possible she can sneak back and get some people out of there quickly. Give her time.”
“This is ridiculous.” Bastian stalked back toward the cottage. He shoved his belongings back into his pack. The same one he’d unpacked the night before.
It was obvious now what he hadn’t noticed earlier. All of Tressa’s things were gone. Her bag, her clothes. It wasn’t much, but her absence now screamed at him. He wanted to kick himself for not noticing before. It would have saved him precious time.
Bastian’s hands shook. She was out there, alone. Well, with that stupid owl, but the bird wouldn’t do anything to help her if that beast came sniffing around again. He kicked the table. Hard. His toe throbbed. He kicked it again. And again until the leg snapped and the table listed to the side.
A knock at the door gave him pause. “Who is it?”
“Your mother. Can I come in?”
He flung the door open. “You can’t talk me out of leaving.”
“I’m not here to do that.” She glanced at the table, but didn’t say a word about it. “I wanted to tell you goodbye. The last time we parted, you were only a small child. I promised I’d come back for you and I didn’t.” Tears glistened at the corners of her eyes.
Bastian reached out and she slipped into his arms. “It’s okay. Someone had to go every year.”
“I didn’t volunteer. Not like Fenn did.”
He wanted to tell her he knew, but he didn’t. No one would ever talk about his mother after she was gone. It was as if she’d never existed. A year later his father died and his Uncle Adam raised him.
She stepped back and grasped Bastian’s hands. “There’s something I want to show you before you leave.” She pulled up the sleeve of her dress. Three long scars ran the length of it, puckered and silvered with age.
“What gave you those?” He ran a finger along the length of them.
“The beast that hides in the fog. When I crawled out, Fenn found me. He stopped the bleeding, otherwise I might have died.” She slid the sleeve down. “I wanted to show you this to give you hope. I survived. Tressa will too. And you will come back.” She smiled, her eyes hopeful.
“I will. I promise.” Bastian kissed his mother on the top of her head. “I need to leave now, though. I don’t want to waste more time.”
“I understand. I’ll see you again soon, Son.”
Bastian nodded and left the cottage. He took a deep breath and headed through the encampment and into the forest.
* * * * *
“They’re both gone now.” Jayne said to Fenn. They had watched Bastian’s back as he entered the forest.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. “I don’t think we’ll ever see either of them again.”
“I hope you’re right.” She leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder. “At least the owl didn’t make any noise when I killed it.”
“Haven’t had owl wings for supper in a long time. Thank you.”
“Anything for you, Fenn.”
“Oh,” he said, pulling something out of his pocket. “Tressa left me a jar of honey.”
Jane’s eyes widened. She blinked. A black slit tore through her blue eyes, changing them to red. She licked her lips with a forked tongue. “We’ve waited many years for this.”
“Our time is about to come.” Fenn smiled and took her into his arms.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
His eyelids felt heavy, like small bags of sand held them closed. Slowly, carefully he opened them. A tearing sensation forced tears into the corner of his eyes, but he didn’t stop. With each miniscule movement, he fought to regain his sight and his consciousness.
He knew he’d been out. For how long, he was unsure. He attempted to swallow. The saliva ripped skin on its way down his throat, taking away the sensation of death. Pain was welcome. It screamed in his ear, forcing him to believe he was alive, even though every sense told him he wasn’t.
He remembered dying. The pain. The blood. The last moment he heard anything and the white light that met him at the edge. He’d accepted it.
And now he was breathing again. Not easily, but the wind of life flowed through his body.
He felt his body with a light touch. The blood and flesh that had been stripped away from him so fiercely had healed. His skin was smooth, unblemished, and softer than that of his children.
His heart leapt. He had children. A wife he loved with all of his being. He’d left her behind. But why?
“Because she didn’t love you anymore. She took another lover and cast you out into the world, penniless and forsaken.”
The woman’s voice sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it. It dripped with honey and the promise of sunshine. It was kind. It was truthful.
No wonder his heart pained him so much. The woman he’d loved sent him away.
“You stumbled into a forest surrounded by fog. A great beast tore you apart. I found you. I nursed you back to health.” Fingertips lightly grazed his forehead.
Warm. Soft. Comforting.
He vaguely remembered the forest and the fog, thicker than the wool of the clothes he wore. Clothes? He’d touched his own body. His skin. There were no clothes. Shame spread over him. No woman, other than his wife and his mother, had seen him without clothing.
“You are beautiful. Don’t be embarrassed.” A silken blanket spread across him.
He was grateful. He wanted to thank her, but he still couldn’t speak. His lips were spread apart ever so slightly. Not one sound emerged.
“You don’t have to talk, sweetling. I can hear you. We have a connection, deeper than any you’ve ever had with anyone else.” She placed a hand under his back, helping him to sit up.
His legs swung over to the side and the blanket fell to his waist, covering the most private part of him. That part he’d kept only for the woman he loved. The one who became his wife and bore his children. The one he swore he’d return to, no matter how difficult. If the voice was to be believed, his wife no longer wanted him.
Memories of dense fog and the snarling of a beast coming after him haunted him. He knew they were true memories. The rest was a blur.
“You’ve blocked out the pain.” She stroked his hair. “It’s okay, my darling. Eventually it’ll all come back.”
He looked at the woman next to him. Her long dark braid fell behind her back, nearly touching the floor. It sparkled in the dim light. Where was he? The walls dripped. Stalactites clung to the ceiling. A cave, then. That explained the moistness in the air and the faint scent of dirt.
She wore a gown of blue. Light bounced off of it, blinding him every time he looked at her. Dazzling. Devastatingly beautiful.
The woman’s hand rested under his chin. A nudge. He looked into her eyes. Deep pools of blackness. The azure iris of her eye slit in a vertical line.
“You have no idea how grateful I am that you have woken from your sleep. Your injuri
es were extensive. Everyone else thought you dead. I am the only one who believed you could be brought back to life.”
He was grateful to her too. Though without his wife, he wasn’t sure if life was worth living.
“Life can be so much more. You are young. Don’t give up so easily.” She traced a line down his face to his lips. Her finger lingered there, only a moment, before she drew it back.
He licked his lips. The metallic taste of blood mingled with the sweetness of honey. He swallowed. Looking at her again, she appeared even more beautiful. Radiant.
Her eyelids lowered, her lashes fluttering. “I’m pleased you think I’m attractive.”
Despite wanting to fight it, he found himself being pulled toward her. With the passing of every moment, the tender memories of his wife faded, obstructed by the woman in front of him.
“Yes, that’s right. I feel the same pull to you. It’s only natural. I’ve grown to love you as well.”
Love. It was a word he’d never used lightly. He’d sworn to use it only for one woman. But she’d spurned him. Left him to die.
The woman sashayed in front of him. She nudged his legs apart, stepping between them. Her hands rested on his stomach, just above the blanket that still covered him.
“I want you,” she whispered in his ear, her lips tickling the edge of his earlobe.
He couldn’t form the words to answer. He didn’t need to. With a sudden burst of energy, he reached out, cupping one breast in his hand. She moaned and bit his ear.
The woman pushed him back down on the table. She grabbed the blanket and flung it to the ground. Straddling his waist, she ground into his obvious arousal.
“Now you are mine, Connor.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Bastian dropped his sword on the ground and tucked his dagger into the holster around his calf. He needed both of his hands to scale the tree. The limbs rustled like living arms, reaching out for him, threatening to flay his skin. Rough bark dug in, biting his flesh. Still he climbed, desperate to get to the top, hoping he could rise above the fog. Praying he would be able to see Tressa.
He couldn’t see the ground any longer, nor could he see the top of the tree. Anchored on a sturdy branch, he felt afloat, drifting in a sea of damp clouds. He was used to the fog surrounding him when he lived in Hutton’s Bridge, but the only time it ever enveloped him so completely was in the forest with Tressa and Connor.
Adrenaline pumped through his veins. Losing Connor and Tressa within the space of a day. One through the most bloody death he’d ever seen and the other gone, without a trace. She’d promised him they’d be together. Then she left. She’d vanished with the moon.
Scaling the top of the tree was his only hope of finding her. If she was still wandering, maybe he’d see her. Or he’d see some kind of path. Or figure out where his village was. He knew the fog didn’t reach up into infinity. The dying dragon in their village told him that.
He wished, only for a moment, that he had a dragon to fly on. He could soar over the forest, save Tressa, and then rescue everyone in the village.
Bastian steeled himself and began the ascent again. Connor’s death would not be in vain.
A bright beam of light cut through the fog. It was only a pinhole, but it was enough to spur Bastian to climb faster. He was close. The air was drier and he could feel a hint of a breeze brushing wisps of his hair to the side.
Closer now. Only a few more branches until the sun broke through the fog. Bastian shielded his eyes with his hand, hanging onto the trunk with his free arm. Holding on carefully, he shimmied from branch to branch, trying to get to the opposite side of the tree where he could hopefully see Hutton’s Bridge.
His hand grabbed onto a knot in the trunk, his fingers curling around the ageless bark. Then he felt it. Flesh.
Bastian tore his eyes away from the forest and looked up at the trunk. A hollow, the size of a human gaped in the trunk. But it wasn’t empty. Gnarled within the tree was a woman. Alive or dead, he couldn’t discern.
He snatched his fingers away from her toes. At first he’d thought they were knots. He climbed a little higher on a branch, one that looked sturdy enough to hold his weight. To be safe, he balanced against another branch, taking care not to put too much pressure on either.
Bastian took a deep breath. The woman in the tree didn’t acknowledge him. Her wrinkled eyes remained closed, forever locked in a dance between life and death. Her heart pounded in her transparent chest. A faint red glow emanated from her heart where it still beat out a slow, even rhythm. If Bastian squinted, he could almost see the forest moving along with her, as if her heart kept it alive.
And maybe it did.
“What kind of magic is this?” He’d seen enough to know he had to suspend disbelief. Hutton’s Bridge had exposed him to nothing more than stories. Everything he’d seen had proved there was far more out here than he’d ever suspected.
Her skin was shriveled with age. Her wide eyes glowed green. Her mouth contorted in a gasp of terror. She didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge him, yet her naked body continued to pulse with a sappy rhythm.
“What are you?” Bastian reached out, caressing her emaciated cheek.
She didn’t flinch.
If she was connected to the forest, killing her might end the torment of the fog. His people would finally be free from its tyranny. He’d be able to find Tressa. And yet…
Bastian knew now that staying hidden was better than what was out here. At least when they were unprepared. If Tressa made it back to Hutton’s Bridge, if he could join her there, then they could train their people to fight back.
But the woman had done nothing to him. He couldn’t even be sure why she was there or if she had anything to do with the fog. Bastian squeezed the hilt of his sword. The blood pumped in his veins, screaming at him to kill her. The scene before him was unnatural. It reeked of evil magic. Even the tree no longer smelled of dew and earth. There was a stench of rot in the air, tickling at his nose, threatening to climb down the back of his throat and gag him.
“No.” He said it to himself. A glance out of the corner of his eye assured him. She still didn’t acknowledge him. No movement. No life, despite the pulsing of her exposed heart.
Bastian turned his back on her and gazed out into the forest. He forced himself to focus on finding Hutton’s Bridge.
It didn’t take long. His eyes skimmed the tops of the trees, honing in on a wall of fog in the distance. It rose into the sky, higher than he could see. He craned his neck upward, careful to maintain his balance on the tree branches.
It appeared there was no end. The tendrils stretched on forever.
A black crow cawed in the distance. A rustle in the tree behind him snatched his attention from the sky. The branches crisscrossing the woman’s chest curled away from her body. Her limbs moved in a smooth motion as she stepped away from the hollow.
Bastian scuttled farther out on the branches. They dipped dangerously low, threatening to snap and send him spiraling to the ground. He didn’t care. He wouldn’t get an inch closer to the naked woman emerging from the womb of the tree.
Her lifeless eyes looked toward the sky, in the direction of the cawing bird. She raised her arms, her palms facing the fog. Her mouth opened; she sucked in a deep breath.
Tendrils escaped the fog, racing through the air toward her, passing over her lips, giving moisture to her shriveled body. Her mouth closed. Her lips warped into a smile, one so vile Bastian wanted to throw himself to his death. Still, he hung on.
Her eyes swept over him, but just as quickly as they’d found him, they were trained on the sky again. The bird came into view.
The woman’s mouth opened, her jaw slack. Ice crystals shot out of her mouth and hurtled through the air, stabbing the bird straight through its chest. Wings beat frantically, fighting against the finality of death.
Giving up the struggle, the bird spiraled down into the trees, landing on a mess of branches not far from Bastian.
The woman raised a hand toward the bird. It hurtled through the air, landing in her outstretched palm. She lifted the bird to her mouth and took a bite. Blood gushed, the scent of copper overtaking the rot and moistness in the air. She swallowed the bird with one big gulp.
Her eyes fell on Bastian again. Gliding over the branches as if she had no fear of falling, the woman stood only inches from his feet.
“Leave,” she commanded, blood dripping out the sides of her mouth.
The branches broke at her command, sending Bastian falling to the ground.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Bastian opened his eyes to the sound of a piercing screech. He lay in a tangle of branches, not far from the ground. Had they not caught him, his bones could have shattered into a million pieces.
He recognized the sound and held still. It was the same beast in the forest the first time they’d passed through. Few had ever survived one trip. A second was suicide. He knew why he was doing this. For Tressa. Everything was for her.
Bastian hoped he wasn’t too late.
“Bastian.”
He heard it gliding on the wind. Tressa! He’d know her voice anywhere. Bastian slowly lowered himself to the ground. The fog enveloped him, erasing any chance he had of seeing his way through the forest.
Bastian pulled himself back into the tree and up onto the branches. He could see a bit better above the fog. Looking around, Bastian tried to find another tree close by. If he could move from tree to tree without touching ground, he might be able to avoid the beast hiding in the mist. He only wished he’d thought of it before.
“Bastian.”
There it was again. Tressa. His breath came faster, his heartbeat increasing. He shimmied out on the branch and reached for the next one. With a careful foot, he probed the branch. It was strong and stable. Bastian leapt to it, quickly grabbing the upper branches, like outstretched arms of the tree.
Gods & Dragons: 8 Fantasy Novels Page 74