by Megg Jensen
"Tressa?" Donovan said. He stood in the doorway to a nearby inn, his arms crossed over his chest. "Come. We have much to discuss."
Tressa snapped her attention back to Donovan. "Of course. I'm coming. Sorry." She followed him into the building.
Candles flickered in the dim light. Two windows were covered in fabric, keeping the sun from touching the interior. A simple table with four chairs around it sat in the center of the room. A faint smell of beeswax and cedar tickled her nose.
"Please, have a seat," Accore said, gesturing toward the chairs.
Tressa lowered herself. She shifted nervously, her back hitting the wooden slats.
"What can we do for you?" Accore asked. "It's not every day that the leader of the Vulture Tower comes back to his homeland. How long has it been? Three or four hundred years?"
Tressa glanced at Donovan. He'd been cryptic about his origins, and while she'd heard him mention the Vulture Tower, she had no idea where it was. But hundreds of years old? That meant he was like the woman who'd been ruling the Red.
"It has been some time," Donovan admitted. "I would not come back if help wasn't desperately needed."
Accore slammed a fist on the table, a grin overtaking his face. "Then it is done! We shall send troops to the Dragonlands. When do you want to leave?"
Donovan shook his head. "Not that. Not yet. We have another problem to solve first."
Accore seemed surprised as he looked from Donovan to Tressa. "What would that be?"
"We were traveling with a third," Donovan said. "She has been taken by a shade."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Accore said. "That is a shame. Still, I don't see how we can help you."
"We need to find her," Tressa said. She'd sat by long enough, keeping quiet as Donovan had asked. "Can you help us?"
"Truly?" Accore looked at Donovan. "Is this why you came to us? You know we can't help." He patted Tressa’s hand. "I'm sorry, but your friend is likely dead."
"Likely?" Tressa asked. "But she may still be alive?"
Accore glanced at Donovan, who shrugged. "It's possible," Accore said. "I doubt we will be successful in finding her, much less rescuing her."
"But there is a chance. Right, Donovan?" She looked to her guide. "You said Fi could still be alive. If that's true, we must do everything we can to rescue her."
Accore laughed. "Anyone, even from the far east, knows that shades are difficult to track, harder to pin down, and near-impossible to kill." His laughter stopped as he stared at Tressa. He cocked his head to the side. "You are not from Desolation, are you?"
Tressa folded her hands and didn't answer. Donovan had told her they would kill her if they knew where she was from because her lineage put her in danger.
"Donovan?" Accore asked. "You must speak plainly to me. Before I commit any warriors to your cause, I need the truth."
Donovan took a deep breath. "You know I would not ask for help in this unless it was completely necessary. Tressa insists we find her friend. After that, the end of times is coming."
Tressa wrinkled her eyebrows at Donovan's plea. "I don't understand.”
Both men ignored her, their eyes locked.
"The time has come?" Accore asked. "Truly?"
Donovan stood, his gray cape twirling behind him as he paced the small room. "Events are unfolding as foretold. But she," he pointed at Tressa, "refuses to do as I ask until her friend is found."
Accore's gaze fell on Tressa. She attempted to decipher his expression, but he was unreadable. "Why is she so important to you?" he asked.
Tressa didn't hesitate. "Because she wouldn't leave me behind and I won't leave her. If there is the slightest chance she's alive, I will look for her." She held Accore's gaze, refusing to show any weakness.
Accore finally broke their stalemate. He turned to Donovan. "I will provide four warriors, plus myself. We will find this Fi, we will save her, and we will return to bring about the end of the world. You have my word."
"Then it is done. Happy?" Donovan asked Tressa.
"When do we leave?" she asked Accore, ignoring their babble about the end of times. She didn’t know of such things, nor did she put stock in them. Fi was her priority.
"In the morning. Sleep well tonight. It may be your last chance before all of your worst nightmares come true."
Chapter Sixteen
Sunlight poured through the windows, waking an exhausted Tressa. She stretched her arms above her head and pointed her toes. Every muscle in her body ached. She couldn't remember the last time she'd woken up and had nothing to do but eat a leisurely breakfast and start on her chores. Those days were gone.
She leapt out of bed, stretched her legs, and threw on pants and a shirt. She'd given up dressing in proper women's attire ages ago. Fighting in a dress was almost impossible. There was nowhere to store weapons without having to lift a skirt to get them. The time it took to equip a weapon could mean the difference between life and death. No, breeches it was. Tressa strapped three daggers to her legs and sheathed her sword at her hip. Accore had given it back once Donovan assured him she wasn’t a threat. She quickly braided her dark hair and used a strip of leather to tie up the end. The reflection in the mirror showed a far tougher figure than how she thought of herself. Since leaving Hutton's Bridge, Tressa's body had undergone more than one transformation. She was no longer the village girl, content to weave in her cottage. Now she was a warrior and a dragon.
Today she would start on a journey to save her best friend. After that, she'd save all of the Dragonlands... again.
Tressa entered the dining room on the first floor of the inn. Donovan and Accore sat at a table, two bowls of steaming porridge in front of them and a third waiting for Tressa. She plunked down on the seat and hungrily dove in to her breakfast.
"What if that was not for you?" Donovan asked, his eyes wide as she slurped up her breakfast as quickly as she could.
"It is now," Tressa said through a full mouth. Warmth poured down the back of her throat, heating her entire body. "This is really good. Compliments to the cook."
Accore smiled. "I'll be sure to tell my wife, Belida, you said so. This is our inn."
Tressa thought back to the inn she'd worked in briefly before winning a spot in the Black Guard. Leo's brother, Ira, had kept it up well enough, while his wife spent her days leisurely laying in bed. The woman was sharp and quick-witted, in stark contrast to her perpetually annoyed and harried husband. But Accore seemed very relaxed, and his wife behind the bar seemed to truly enjoy her business. Belida wiped the counter with a smile on her face, and she offered a smile to everyone who approached her. Very different, indeed.
"When do we leave?" Tressa asked after swallowing the final spoonful of porridge. She wiped the corners of her mouth with her sleeve.
"The rest of our party will be meeting us here very soon," Accore said.
"Where will we start?" Tressa knew nothing of where they'd be going or how long it would take. Accore had pushed aside all of her questions yesterday, promising her solid answers in the morning.
Before he could answer, the door to the inn swung open. Three women and one man walked in, swords at their waists, their faces grim. The first woman, whose two long braids hung to her waist, glanced around the room. After laying eyes on Accore, she nudged the woman next to her. They moved to the table, but didn't sit down.
"Hildie," Accore said. "You've made it. Thank you for volunteering."
The braided woman bowed her head. "Your presence here is held in high esteem. Any of us is willing to lay down our lives at your command." Her gaze wandered over toward Tressa. "Though your request is not what we expected."
Donovan stood and held out a hand to Hildie. They clasped forearms, then released. "We have someone to rescue before we set out on the real quest. I promise you, the battle you've trained for, perhaps even longed for, is nigh. You will see blood." Donovan’s gaze swept over the crew, lingering only for a moment on one of the women before completely its pass.
/> Tressa eyed Hildie and her crew. The other two women were identical twins. Their brown hair was cut in the same harsh, short style, with the ends falling just to their chins. Their brown eyes were equally hard, but one woman showed slightly more excitement than her sister. She bounced lightly on her toes, her hand hovering ready over the hilt of her sword. The man was impossibly tall and hairless. It wasn't just that he'd shaved his head. His eyebrows were gone and there was no hair on his tattooed, muscular arms. He appeared bored, as if meeting in an inn was the dullest thing he'd ever had to face.
"What do your tattoos represent?" Tressa asked him, unable to stem her curiosity.
"Each one represents a kill," he said, his voice gravelly. His eyes did perk up at Tressa's interest, though. "I hope to have both arms covered when we return from this voyage."
"This is Tressa," Accore said, standing. "We are searching for her friend, and then we will finally see if prophecy is ready to be fulfilled."
"I hope so," Hildie said. "I have been waiting for this my whole life. As a baby, my grandmother sat me on her knee and told me of the future I might have. The glory in battle and the satisfaction of being around at the change of the world. I have longed for this day, and now that it is here, I cannot contain my excitement." Hildie stood perfectly still, her shoulder squared, and her voice solemn. If this was excited, Tressa was curious to see what Hildie was like when she was calm.
"I am Onva," said the eager twin. "This is my sister Fregar." The other woman nodded.
"And I am Kadrin," the hairless man said. "We are pleased to meet you, Tressa. We pledge to lay down our lives for you and your missing friend."
Deep down Tressa had been afraid they would gang up on her after breakfast and tell her she had to complete Donovan's quest before looking for Fi. Donovan had made it very clear that her choice was foolish, that Fi was probably already dead, and that she was putting all of the Dragonlands in danger by delaying. Yet he’d kept his word.
"Thank you, all of you." Tressa looked each of them in the eye before turning back to Accore. "When do we leave?"
"Now that our party has assembled, we leave immediately." Accore glanced at Kadrin. "Are the horses ready?"
"Yes, I checked all of them myself. They are swift and strong. We should reach our destination in four days," Kadrin said.
Four days? On a horse? Tressa had ridden camels, dragons, and horses, and she liked horses the least. She feared being thrown and breaking her neck. But if that was what it took to save Fi, Tressa wouldn't complain.
"Then off we go. Give me a moment to kiss my wife and I will be with you." Accore left for the bar.
As they filed out of the inn, Tressa saw him nuzzle his wife's neck, his hand on her bottom. Belida didn't shed one tear. Instead she wiped away Accore's. It was strange, opposite of all the relationships Tressa had seen growing up. It was always expected the man would be the strong one, while his wife experienced more than enough emotion. Belida kissed Accore, and Tressa looked away in embarrassment. It wasn't right to spy on their goodbyes. She wished she had someone to wish her well on her journey. Jarrett was in a coma, and she wasn't sure he could ever come back. Bastian was dead. Her heart lay heavy. Two good men lost to this war between dragons and beasts. Perhaps she would find love again someday, but it would be hard for anyone to live up to the men she had loved.
Tressa took a deep breath and mounted her horse. It skittered from side to side, and she clung tightly to the reins. This was just another skill she had to master, not an insurmountable difficulty. She'd learn to ride a horse, perhaps even enjoy it, and she would find Fi, no matter what dangers lay ahead.
Chapter Seventeen
Tressa's arse hurt. After four days on the horse, bumping up and down over rocky terrain, she wanted to give up. The others had tried to teach her to ride properly, but she just couldn't get it right. When they stopped at night to camp, they were jovial. By the end of the fourth day, Donovan had to help Tressa off the horse and to her bedroll.
She was still intrigued by the magic rendering their tent and the village invisible. She'd asked Onva how it worked. She’d delved into a complex explanation of magical theory that Tressa couldn't even begin to understand. It turned out almost everyone in Desolation had some grasp of magic.
Tressa had only her dragon form. But under Donovan's instruction, she still kept that part of her life a secret.
She rolled onto her side and grabbed a chunk of bread and a strip of dried meat.
"How much has Donovan told you about the connection between Desolation and the Dragonlands?" Kadrin asked. He'd kept up a steady stream of conversation all the days they’d ridden, but this was the first time he'd mentioned something that piqued Tressa's interest.
"Almost nothing," she answered, swallowing the jerky. "I have seen Decarian. That's why I agreed to come to Desolation. Donovan thought we might find a solution here."
Hildie nodded, her eyes downcast. "Yes, our magic trapped Decarian and his minions between our lands. It was up to the people in the Dragonlands to keep them imprisoned. Since you're here, I guess that means you're failing?"
"We didn't even know he was there," Tressa insisted. "No one in the Dragonlands knows."
Donovan cleared his throat. "That is not entirely true. The masses lost the secret due to time and apathy. Yet, there are those who know."
"The Red Queen did. Who else?" Tressa asked.
"Mestifito knows. Assuming he is still alive," Hildie said. "There are legends of him here, telling of his great misdeeds in Desolation. He was banished to the Dragonlands. In fact, he was the first one there and he named the place after himself." Hildie snorted. "He was a conceited bastard. Thought he could run the new lands all by himself and save the refugees from Decarian. Obviously he failed."
Tressa's head spun. The dragon her great-grandmother consorted with, the very one whose blood ran in Tressa's veins, was hundreds of years old. No wonder Donovan didn't want Tressa or Fi to reveal their lineage. They were both of his blood, and if Hildie's face was any indication, no one in Desolation would take kindly to them.
"If Decarian is held between the lands, then why does everyone in Desolation hide themselves? Why not live freely as we do in the Dragonlands?" Tressa asked the first question that popped into her head. There were so many she wanted to ask.
"I can answer that." Kadrin sat up. "Our land is filled with horrible beasts and monsters that roam at night. If humans were to live among them, we'd be extinct in mere days. That's part of the reason an expedition went over the mountains, looking for a new place to live."
"Once you knew the Dragonlands was safe, why didn't everyone follow?" Tressa asked. There was little in her homeland to fear. Even the kilrothgi, employed by the Red, were beasts from beyond the mountains.
Fregar hadn't said more than a few words since leaving their village, but chose to finally break her silence. "Would you leave your homeland if it was a place you loved? People have lived here for as long as time, hiding within our magic. We are safe here, as long as we follow the rules of the land. Stay hidden. Do not roam at night. Leave the beasts to themselves." She threw down the jerky she'd been gnawing on. "When did we change from honorable people to fools on a doomed errand? Her friend is dead. If none of you will say it, I will."
The tent fell silent. No one moved. Tressa looked to Donovan. For once, he had nothing to say.
Every single one of them agreed with Fregar. They’d only come because Donovan asked them to, not because they thought there was any chance of saving Fi.
Tressa stood with her fists planted on her hips, her thighs screaming in pain from being on the horse for days, but she pretended she didn't feel a thing. "If you point me in the right direction, I will see for myself if Fi can be saved. I won't force anyone to come with me."
"Stop," Donovan said. "Both of you." He motioned at Tressa for her to sit down again.
She obeyed, sagging to her bedroll, trying not to wince from the pain.
"E
very one of you knew what was being asked before you even walked into the Dancing Gazelle. Accore explained everything," Donovan said. Accore nodded in agreement. "I know this is difficult. I know no one has been recovered from a shade in many hundreds of years. I know you fear for your lives, however we need Tressa to help us heal the divisions between our two lands. To do that, she needs her friend. Would you feel any different if it was Onva, Fregar?"
"She is my sister," Fregar argued. "My twin. My blood. But if Onva were taken by a shade, I would mourn her life and celebrate her accomplishments. I would not set off across Desolation in search of her."
Onva didn't seem at all distressed by this revelation.
"I would not endanger the lives of others." Fregar crossed her arms over her chest.
Tressa rubbed her forehead. She wished more than anything that she and Fi had stayed behind in the Red and tried to solve the problem of Decarian on their own.
"I’m sorry. I won't leave without Fi," Tressa said. "I don't know what these shades are or why they're so dangerous, but I refuse to leave her behind if there is a chance she can be saved. You said someone had been saved before. Why not again?"
"Because that person was never the same," Donovan said. "I told you that Fi might be changed—if we even manage to find her."
"I thought you were on my side," Tressa said. "I thought you believed there was a chance."
"There is a chance," Donovan said. The others’ eyes were trained on the two who argued. "There is always a chance. Even death can be conquered with dragon blood."
"Which is why we expelled them from Desolation," Fregar said. Onva nudged her in the stomach, but Fregar ignored her twin and continued. "The damn dragons were always interfering in the cycle of life. They were obsessed with living forever, stealing people and turning them into dragons, experimenting on them, torturing them. Death is honored here. We do not seek to stop it or change it. Only the truly twisted do so." Fregar spat on the ground in front of Tressa. "You come from the land of the dragons. You probably worship them as gods. If Mestifito had his way, it would be so. Our legends tell of his obsession with eternal life. Tell me, does he still live? Has he conquered death as he always planned?"