by Megg Jensen
"Connor?" Hazel asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"
"No, I'm not. I want to remember. I'm tired of feeling like my life began after I left Hutton's Bridge." Connor's shoulders sagged.
"It's okay," Hazel said. "I'm here for you, no matter what happens." She touched a fingertip to Connor’s chin. "Even if you never remember, you have me, your boys, and your girls. We all love you."
Connor wanted to tell Hazel he loved her, too. He wouldn't, because he didn't. Not the way she deserved. Not the way she wanted him to.
"It's okay." She leaned in again, her lips hovering dangerously close to his.
"Hazel..."
"Shhh." She placed her lips on his, silencing any protests he might have uttered.
Connor returned the kiss, more hesitant than he'd been outside in the open. Here, out of sight, it felt too dangerous. If he wasn't careful, he'd give in. And he wanted to—so, so much. He didn't want to hurt Hazel, though. Connor broke away, breathless.
Hazel only stepped closer, her fingers lifting his shirt and her hands traveling up his stomach. "I've missed you so much," she whispered. Her lips fell on his chest.
He closed his eyes. A woman with a long braid and a blue leather suit flashed in his mind. She’d ripped off his pants and was forcing him to do something he didn't want to do. "No," Connor said, backing away.
Hazel stood there, her lips swollen and her eyes wide. "I'm sorry." Her arms dropped to her sides. "I didn't mean to—"
"I know you didn't," Connor said. "It's not you. It's me." He tucked his shirt into his pants. "There are things you don't know yet."
"You can tell me," she said.
"I'm not ready yet," Connor said. He didn't know if he ever would be. "I hope you understand."
He could see in her eyes how painful this was, but she refused to give up on him. That thought, at least, warmed his heart, even as he battled guilt. "When I'm ready you'll be the first to know. I promise."
"I'm counting on it," she said.
"We should go back," Connor said.
Hazel nodded. "Can I hold your hand?" she asked.
"I'd like that," Connor said. He held out his hand, and she slipped hers in his. They fit together nicely. Something hovered on the edge of his memory. He reached for it, but it slipped through his grasp like wisps of fog.
Connor opened the door to their cottage, greeting the sun. He blinked a few times, then led Hazel out into the village. They walked quietly, leaning on one another, their arms touching.
"This is nice, isn't it?" she asked.
Connor was about to agree when the screams of children ripped through the silent afternoon.
Chapter Nine
A low growl nudged Tressa from her sleep. She grasped her cloak so tightly her knuckles ached.
"What was that?" she asked.
"I don't know," Fi said. "It doesn't sound friendly."
"It is not," Donovan whispered. "Stay where you are. Do not move. Do not light a torch. Keep your breathing even. And if you want to live, stay silent."
A snuffling sound traced a border around the bottom of their tent. Tressa stiffened as the sound came closer to her head. She focused on making her breath flow evenly in and out, like Donovan told her to.
A foul smell drifted into the tent, unlike anything Tressa knew. Rot wrapped around sweetness. She struggled to swallow, but a quickly growing lump stopped her. Fresh air. She needed it immediately. The air in the tent was pure poison.
Tressa sat up, ready to bolt, but Donovan grabbed her arm.
"Do not give in," he whispered in her ear. "It is only an illusion to draw you out."
Tressa closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing. The lump was gone—or maybe it was never there. Her chest rose and fell in measured beats. Donovan's hand moved away, but she could still feel him behind her. Fi was on her other side. Yet, Tressa didn't feel safe. In the morning she would ask Donovan what exactly was out there and how she could protect herself better.
The noises continued for most of the night, keeping anyone from getting much sleep. It seemed like every time Tressa drifted off, the sniffing began again.
After the long night ended, Donovan opened the tent's flap.
Tressa threw an arm over her eyes to block the morning sun.
Fi rolled over and grumbled. "I had the strangest dreams last night." She rubbed her eyes and sat up.
"That was no dream," Donovan said. "They have found us already. I thought perhaps we would have a few days lead on them, but no. The shades have always been crafty when it comes to gathering knowledge. I should not have underestimated them. You both will need to be bled before we continue."
"Bled?” Tressa repeated. “What do you mean, bled? Why?"
Fi bolted upright. "Absolutely not. I won't allow it."
Donovan and Fi stared each other down.
"It is the only way. If we do not, you will be discovered. And killed. Not in a pleasant fashion," Donovan said.
"Death is never pleasant," Fi said.
"There are ways to die that are preferable than others," Donovan said. "Trust me. If you are not bled, they will discover the dragon in you. You will be captured. Tortured. You will die... eventually."
"Can someone help me understand what you're arguing about?" There were times Tressa cursed her sheltered upbringing in Hutton's Bridge. Things others knew flew over her head. She hated being the only one who was uniformed.
Fi sighed and sank back. "Remember when you came to the Black and we had you drink that cup of blood? It destroyed the tainted Red blood in you and strengthened the Black."
Tressa nodded, remembering how, at first, she had refused to drink because she didn't understand the Black were trying to save her. Fortunately, she had agreed in the end.
"Well, the opposite holds true, too. Just as adding blood will strengthen your dragon, bleeding will dampen it." Fi pointed at Donovan. "He wants us to lose part of our dragon so whatever's out there can't sniff us out. Right?"
Donovan nodded.
Tressa held up a hand. "Hold on. I could have avoided becoming a dragon? Give myself over to a session of bloodletting and it would be gone? Why wasn't that presented to me as an option?"
Fi rolled her eyes. "Because you would have taken it." Tressa started to argue, but Fi cut her off. "Now that you've experienced being a dragon, is that a choice you would make? Would you really give it all up?"
Anger swirled in Tressa’s stomach. She knew the truth—since she'd become a dragon she couldn't imagine living without that side of herself. "No."
Fi turned to Donovan. "We won't do it. You'll be taking away our only defense. If things get bad out there, Tressa and I will need our dragon forms to save your arse."
"If they detect a dragon, they will kill you." Donovan focused his stare on Tressa, as if he knew she was more likely to bend. "There will be no time to change. No time to defend yourself. You will be dead. Then what?"
"I can fight," Tressa said. "I don't necessarily need my dragon form as defense." She avoided looking Fi in the eyes, knowing exactly how her friend would feel.
"Well, I can't," Fi said, her arms hanging defeated. "I'm completely useless without my dragon. I've never been trained to fight with my hands or a weapon. You should have left me back in the Dragonlands if your plan is to take my dragon from me."
Donovan laid a gentle hand on Fi's shoulder. "You are worth more than you know. If I had thought you would die without your dragon, I never would have brought you with me. You have trusted me so far. Will you trust me now?"
Tressa and Fi looked at each other. They didn't have to talk, or even hear each other's thoughts, to agree. They'd come this far. It was too late to change their minds.
"When will we get our dragons back?" Tressa asked Donovan.
"When you return home and you are able to drink some dragon blood," he said. "Then your dragons will return. I swear this to you. No harm will come to either of you if you trust me."
Tres
sa pushed up her sleeve. "Let's do this. The sooner we get done here, the sooner we can get home."
Fi reluctantly sat next to Tressa and offered her arm. "Make the slice neat. I don't want a scar."
Donovan walked to his pack and rustled through it. He pulled out a glass jar with two slimy black creatures inside. Red horns jutted from their heads. "I won't be cutting you. The leeches will pull it from you."
Fi shrank back. "That's not a normal leech."
"A normal leech cannot pull the dragon out. It takes a horned leech." Donovan uncorked the jar. He held two fingers over the top. The leeches danced and squiggled their way up the sides and onto his fingers.
"Have you done this before?" Tressa asked. Her stomach recoiled at the sight of the creatures. Their red eyes bugged out of their heads, rolling around as they surveyed the tent. They seemed more aware of their surroundings than normal slugs. Tressa had played with them as a child, poking leeches with sticks at the edge of the pond in Hutton's Bridge. The physic, Adam, also Bastian's uncle, would occasionally use them when a villager was sick. He would scold Tressa, Connor, and Bastian for disturbing his assistants, as he liked to refer to them.
Donovan approached Fi and Tressa, one horned leech in each hand. "Do not take this lightly," he said to them. "These leeches will not survive the bloodletting. They are giving their lives for you. No one will be able to steal the dragon blood for their own purposes. Are you ready?"
Tressa nodded. Fi just grunted.
Donovan laid the first leech on Tressa's arm. A cold wetness spread over her skin. A series of sharp sensations pricked her arm as the creature latched on. Warmth spread around the area as it began sucking. Tressa gasped. "This feels..." but she couldn't finish her sentence.
A dark cloud spread over her eyes. Shapes floated in her vision. Bastian. Jarrett. Connor. Her cottage. Granna. The fog. Nerak, the owl. She wanted to reach out to them, but they dissipated like fog slipping through her fingertips. Memories flooded her mind, almost too fast for her to comprehend. Leo! He'd taught her to disguise herself and fight. She watched him die all over again. Tears choked her.
To her right, Fi screamed, but Tressa couldn't go to her. She was trapped in her own nightmare. Tressa’s life continued to flash by until she was at the battle on the Isle of Repose. Bastian! No, Bastian, don't! He was gone. Dead on the ground in front of Jarrett. The rest flew by until she again found herself in the tent in Desolation again.
Sweat poured down her face as she looked blearily up at Donovan.
"It is done." He peeled the horned leech off of Tressa's arm. "You did well."
"That was..."
Fi screamed again, her arms flailing and her legs shaking. Donovan placed a hand on Tressa's shoulder. "She is fine. You did the same."
"I did?" Tressa asked. She didn't recall moving. There were just the thoughts. The memories. The sadness.
Then Fi slumped over. The horned leech fell off her arm, bloated and dead.
"Fi, are you okay?" Tressa asked. She kneeled next to her dear friend, the woman she called sister.
Fi's eyes slowly opened. She glared at Donovan. "If I never get my dragon back, I will kill you."
"I expect nothing less," he said. "Now, we truly begin our journey."
As her strength slowly returned, Tressa gathered her things and stuffed them in her pack. The memories didn’t fade. Bastian. Leo. The two men she'd loved so deeply and lost in the horror of battle. She would never forget either, and she swore she'd never stop loving them.
Chapter Ten
Donovan collapsed the tent, rolled it up, and shoved it in his pack. Tressa had never seen anything so large get so small so fast. Donovan tried to explain that there were special worms found in Desolation that could produce a silk far finer than anything in the Dragonlands. A little bit of magic added to the threads and Donovan had his tent.
Tressa shouldered her pack and followed Donovan across the barren landscape. Fi stalked behind her, clearly still angry with Donovan. Fi had been a dragon her whole life. Tressa couldn't even imagine how upset she was. For Tressa, it had been only a few moons. It was an acceptable loss, but only because it was temporary.
They walked most of the day, stopping only to eat or fill their water skins at the stagnant river. Beads of sweat rolled down Tressa's face, leaving a salty taste on her cracked lips. She took another swig from her water skin. Her lips curled at the warm, stale water. Still, it felt better on her throat than the dry breaths she took with every step.
"We are almost to our destination, but we will take a breather here, at the bend in the Wardack River," Donovan said, slowing. He pointed in the distance. "Do you see?"
Tressa squinted and held her hand to her brow to block the sun. "I see another pile of rocks." That was all she'd seen the majority of the day. Rocks followed by more rocks. No wonder this place was called Desolation.
"Those are not rocks," Donovan said. "They are the key to saving the Dragonlands. The sooner we reach them, the sooner we can get back to your people."
Tressa felt a rush of hope in her heart. She wanted more than anything to believe it would be that simple, but Donovan still hadn't explained what waited for them ahead. He kept urging Tressa to trust him. So far she had no reason not to.
Fi lagged behind, visibly exhausted. Her arms hung limp at her sides. Her hair was plastered to her forehead in black and pink streaks.
"Are you okay?" Tressa asked Fi as she finally caught up to them. She laid a hand on Fi's shoulder and was surprised how warm her friend was.
"I'm fine," Fi said, shrugging Tressa's hand off. Her blue eyes were heavily lidded and her nose red.
"You're not," Tressa said. She turned to Donovan. "Is this because you took her dragon?"
"Perhaps," Donovan said. "It is different for everyone. It may be harder for Fi because she was born a dragon."
"I'm fine," Fi said again through gritted teeth. "Let's keep going."
Donovan turned and continued his march. Tressa walked next to Fi, holding her friend's hand. Fi wasn't well, and neither of them wanted to admit it aloud. What help was there for her in Desolation? So far they hadn't seen so much as a village—nor a beast like the one that hunted them in the night. It was as if the land were dead and so were all of its inhabitants.
"We will pause one final time," Donovan called from ahead. He pointed to the east.
Tressa's gaze settled on the nearby river. She licked her dry lips and smiled. "See, Fi, water. We'll have a nice rest, drink some water, and then be on our way. It'll help you feel better."
"I hope so," Fi grumbled. "I agreed to come here. I agreed to help you and our people. But, Tressa, I didn’t want to let go of my dragon. It makes me feel helpless. I think my body just doesn’t cope well with being more human than dragon." She attempted a feeble laugh. "Maybe this is what I'd be like as a human. Weak. Pathetic."
"You could never be weak or pathetic, Fi." Tressa looked her friend over again. She thought back to the woman she was before they left Hutton's Bridge and saw some similarities to the slump in Fi's shoulder and the furrow of her brow. Before she learned to fight under Leo's tutelage, Tressa had been soft. Fi was now like a normal person, one who had never had the strength of a dragon, and this trek across the uneven landscape was wearing on her.
Tressa squinted toward the rocks Donovan had pointed out. It wouldn't be long until they reached their destination.
Fi sat on a boulder near the bank, her boots off and her feet soaking in the water.
Tressa laughed. "Good thing I'm upstream from you," she said to Fi. "I wouldn't want your stinky feet in my drinking water."
Fi stuck out her tongue at Tressa and splashed her. "Oh yeah? How's this?"
Tressa screamed and jumped back from the droplets speeding toward her.
"Ladies, please," Donovan said. "This is not a pleasure trip to a beach. This is serious work."
"Donovan," Fi said as she massaged the soles of her feet. "Why are you so boring?"
&nb
sp; Donovan huffed and thrust his chest out. "I am not boring. I am trying to save the Dragonlands. Why are you so frivolous?"
"Stop," Tressa said, holding her hands in the air. "Both of you are welcome to your opinions, but I don't see anything wrong with either of your attitudes. Yes, we are on a serious quest. Yes, it is good to take a breath and relax for a few moments. Maybe even have a laugh."
Fi rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her aching feet. Donovan sat on a rock and pulled a pipe from his vest. He stuffed a wad of herbs in the bowl, and rested the stem between his lips.
"Ha!" Fi said, pointing at him. "If you hadn't taken my dragon, I could light that for you."
Donovan ignored her. He pulled a small tin box from an interior pocket. He flipped the lid open; the items laid neatly inside intriguing Tressa. A flint and steel were to light his pipe, but also a sturdy needle and thick thread. It was a strange combination. In moments, the pipe was lit. A light plume of smoke curled up from the bowl as Donovan puffed away, his lips puckering every few breaths. A sweet smell Tressa didn't recognize lingered in the air. He closed his eyes. "We will leave soon."
Tressa leaned down and grabbed Fi's water skin. "I'm going to fill these up over there." She pointed just past Donovan. "I don't want Fi's foot stink in my water skin for the rest of the day."
Fi waved Tressa away and leaned back, her arms crossed behind her head. She was asleep in mere moments, a gentle snore falling from her lips as a light shadow spread across her body.
Tressa tiptoed upriver, trying not to make any noise while her friend rested. She dipped her water skin into the river. When the skin was full, bubbles popped from the spout. Tressa pulled the skin out and replaced the cork. Then she repeated the process with Fi's skin. Tressa shook the water from the outside of the water skins, then slung both around her neck, letting them rest at her waist. She'd give Fi's back when they were ready to leave. There was no reason to bother her friend while she got some much-needed rest.
Instead of relaxing like the other two, Tressa stretched. Her arms rose above her head, fingers laced. She rolled her shoulders, letting her arms fall back. Tressa bent forward at the waist, elongating her back muscles. She smiled and closed her eyes, remembering how Leo had taught her to condition her body, giving her more strength, flexibility, and stamina. If two warriors were evenly matched, winning often came down to who could outlast the other. Tressa swore before she tried out for the Black Guard in Ashoom that she would always last longer than anyone else.