by Megg Jensen
Grabbing his sword from the ground where he'd left it, Bastian blocked the skeleton flying toward him. Bone grated on steel. Bastian pushed back against it, surprised at how strong it was as it pushed ever closer toward him.
Locked in place, his sword against the skeleton’s shoulder blade, Bastian tried to avoid staring at the glowing eyes, now pulsating with fire. But he couldn't look away. Something drew him in, closer and closer, until all he could see was the fire.
Bastian slumped to the ground, his sword clattering next to him.
He lay there, lost, confused, and weak. Around him, screams rang out. Feet stomped past him. Something fell on his clothes, wet and thick. He couldn't get up, couldn't find the energy within himself to care.
His fingers scrambled on the ground, searching for his steel. He pulled the hilt closer and wrapped his hands around it, holding the cool metal to his chest. Like a baby, he curled up on the ground, letting the world go on around him while he fell asleep.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
"Bastian? Wake up." A hand shook his shoulder. "Bastian?"
He could hear the voices, but he couldn’t respond. His eyes remained closed while he listened in.
Footsteps echoed in the room. "Is he going to be okay?"
"I don't know. Without understanding the evil magic those skeletons possessed, it's hard to say."
Bastian stirred. He wanted to wake up and tell them what he’d seen. How the skull glowed. How it overpowered him. How it forced him into a deep sleep.
"He was lucky," the first voice said. Male. Renny. Yes, that was the name of the man. He had freckles spattered on his face. "At least he survived."
A hand gently pushed the hair out of Bastian's face. He'd felt that hand before. The woman who'd brought him back from the dead. Blythe. "Maybe if I give him some of my blood he will awaken. I just don't want to give him too much. The bond between us is sound, but any more and he will feel bound to me in a way my husband will not appreciate."
"Then I will give him mine," Renny said.
"No, he mustn't have yours, either."
"It should be mine," another voice said. It sounded familiar. Bastian strained to recognize the person who spoke. "Leave me to it."
There were no other words. Just the sound of shuffling feet and a door closing.
"Bastian?" He could feel lips tickling near his ear.
He opened his mouth, attempting to speak, but all that came out was a strangled groan. He still couldn't force his eyes open.
"Good. Keep your lips parted. I'm going to let my blood drop into your mouth."
Steel scraped across skin. Wetness dripped onto his lips. He forced his tongue to move, touching the blood and pulling it into his mouth. More came, then more, until he had to close his lips against the tide.
"I'm sorry if that was too much," the voice said. It was quiet. Caring.
He swallowed, the blood coursing down his throat and into his body. A jolt passed from his chest to his head. Another to his heart. Another to his legs and arms. Bastian's eyelashes fluttered, then his eyes opened wide.
He reached up, cupping her cheek with his hand. "Tressa?"
She smiled, resting her hand on his. "It's me. I'm sorry I took so long to come to you. At least I arrived in time to save you."
"Again," he said through a slight laugh. "I was supposed to be the one who kept you safe and saved you."
"It's okay," she said. "I don't mind. We need to take care of each other."
Bastian struggled to sit. Tressa placed an extra pillow behind his back, helping to prop him up. "What are you doing here? Did Connor find you in the Black? Did you come with reinforcements?"
"Too many questions at once," she said. "You need to rest. Get your strength back. Then we can discuss what happened. Can I bring you any food?"
Bastian's stomach rumbled, but he still wasn't ready to eat. "Just some water?"
Tressa picked up a pitcher from the side table and poured water into a cup. She handed it to Bastian. He took it from her with a shaking hand. A droplet of water splashed out, landing on her hand. Bastian wiped it away, letting his fingers linger a moment longer than necessary. "Thank you."
He took a long drink, then set the cup down. "Also, thank you for the dragon blood."
Tressa laughed. "I'm glad it worked. I wasn't sure I had any left in me."
Bastian crinkled his eyes. "I don't understand. Connor said you were a Black dragon now. How could the blood be gone?"
Tressa sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. "It's a long story. I was born with dragon blood, apparently. It's part of who I am. But, Donovan, he..." she paused, rubbing her arm.
"What did he do to you?" Despite his lack of strength, Bastian’s chest began to pound.
"Nothing I didn't let him do," Tressa said. "He used some kind of leech to suck out my dragon blood. It worked. I couldn't change. But, then I did. I almost died, turned back into a human, and now I seem stuck that way... no matter how much dragon blood I drink. I'm just glad there's still enough in me to help you. I wanted to give it a try, at least. If I failed, someone else could have done it."
Bastian rested a hand on her thigh. "I'm glad you did and I'm glad it worked. I could hear your conversation. I don’t want to be any more closely bound to Blythe than I already am."
Tressa laughed, her dark hair rippling over her shoulders. Neither of them spoke, staring awkwardly at each other instead.
"Tell me what happened out there." Bastian nodded toward the window.
"My friends and I ran into Connor. We had been traveling here, looking for you, actually. We pushed through the night to get here, and it's a good thing we did. We came in behind a flying army of skeletons. They weren't too hard to defeat, but had we not arrived when we did, I don't know what would be left standing in the Meadowlands. Those skeletons were pretty tough." Tressa stood, letting Bastian's hand slip onto the bed. She walked over to the window, pulling the curtains aside. Starlight shone onto the table.
"It's nighttime," Bastian said, surprised. "How long was I out?"
"A couple of days," Tressa said. "You must have been hit on the head. Whatever it was really knocked you out."
Bastian thought of the skeleton, so much like the one whose skull was still sitting on his bedside table, covered by the towel he'd thrown over it the day before.
"Yeah, one of those skeletons. I don't remember. I'm glad you made it in time to help us. You always seem to show up when you're needed." Bastian forced himself to not say what he was really thinking. Why didn't she show up when she was wanted? Why was it always out of necessity? After all, he already knew the answer. She'd made it clear to him that she'd chosen another man over him. Even though Jarrett was no longer a candidate for her affections, Bastian didn't want to be her second choice.
"I do my best to keep my friends safe and alive," Tressa said. She looked toward the door. "Unfortunately that battle was only the beginning. We suffered losses yesterday. A few of the Green died, as well as a few of my warriors. We can't afford to lose any more if we're to defeat Donovan."
"So there are more coming?" Bastian asked. "The Green have prophecies. Some feel the time has come for them to bear fruit."
Tressa whirled around to face him, fire dancing behind her eyes. "Prophecy is irrelevant. The only thing that matters is defeating Donovan. Giving him some kind of symbolic power over us will only lead to our destruction. If we believe we can defeat him, then we have a chance. It's that simple."
Bastian shook his head, smiling.
"What?" Tressa asked, cocking her head to the side. He missed that frustrated expression on her face. The one that, in the past, usually led to him kissing her. Bastian couldn't resist Tressa when she was angry.
"I believe you. If you say we can defeat Donovan, then I will follow you."
Tressa slumped down in a chair. She rested her elbows on the table, her head in her hands. "People are going to die. I want to avoid that, but I don't know how to save everyone."
"You can't make choices for them," Bastian said. He wished he had enough energy to stand, to comfort her with his embrace. "You can lead them, but each warrior must weigh the odds of success in their individual actions. There comes a time when you have to trust them and let go."
Tressa looked up, a wry smile on her face. "When did we become these people, Bastian? What happened to the simple villagers we used to be?"
"They're still in the fog, between the world of Hutton's Bridge and the world we live in now. I think they'll stay hidden there forever," he said.
Tressa nodded. "You're right. We are no longer the same people. And yet... some things never change." She stepped over to his bedside, laying a kiss on his forehead. Then she turned and left him alone in his cottage.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Donovan paced the cave, his hands behind his back. "I don't need sight. I can hear just fine, though it is a little muffled."
Hildie nodded, her spine cracking and popping. "That redheaded oaf must have draped something over the skull." Her jaws clacked with every word.
"Thank you for all of your work. Just remember, when all of this is done, I will release all of you as a reward for your unending devotion all of these centuries." Donovan patted Hildie's shoulder.
"What will happen to us?" Hildie asked.
They would disappear, no longer exist. That was the simple answer, but not the one any of the skeletons wanted to hear. Donovan needed to retain their loyalty through the upcoming battle. He also needed to procure a skin for his dear Magda so she could join him in life again.
"You will go back to Desolation, of course," Donovan lied. "There you will have your human body back again, just as you did before crossing over the border to the Dragonlands."
"It is as I had hoped, then," Hildie said. "The tunnel is almost complete. Soon Decarian will be able to emerge from the depths. We can begin our assault on the dragons then."
"Yes, on all but one. Remember, I can turn now, too. I don't like it. In fact, it boils my blood when it happens. I hope to use it to sneak into their ranks as the enemy comes closer." Donovan said, trying to tamp down his excitement. He would finally be able to destroy those filthy beasts. Bianca had ruined his life when she’d stolen his virginity and his blood, changing him forever. Now he would exact payback on his brother and all of his descendants. No one could stand in his way.
"Yes," Hildie said. Donovan imagined a smile on her face. Too bad she didn't have the cheek muscles to make it happen. "Your disguise is the cleverest of all." She bowed again, heading back into the depths of the cavern to supervise the workers.
Donovan sat, a skull in his hands. He closed his eyes, listening intently to the conversation in Bastian's cottage. Until he heard something he didn't expect.
"Damn it!" Donovan yelled. He punched a nearby skeleton. It collapsed to the ground, bones scattered over the dirt. "Tressa's alive. I thought she died on the Barrier Mountains. No one can pass over them. No one!"
Donovan stood, pacing the cave.
"My love, what is it?" Magda emerged from an adjoining cave. She rested a bony hand on his shoulder.
"Nothing. It's nothing. Just an unwelcome development I didn't expect." If Tressa lived, then her ghost dragons probably did, too. Those annoying people from Hutton’s Bridge would not die. Soon, they would. Donovan would make sure of it. Besides, the ghost dragons were harmless. All they could do was spit icicles.
"As soon as Decarian is prepared to emerge, send someone to wake me. I need all of the rest I can get right now."
Donovan left the cave, heading for the relative comfort of the cottage. He missed having Jarrett and Fi with him. It was too quiet. It wouldn't be for long, though. Soon they would both be back with him. And Donovan would make sure they’d bring him the most special prize of all. Tressa.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Tressa walked, alone, toward the inn. She remembered the last time she'd been in the Meadowlands. They'd been preparing for battle then, too, but it was different this time. There were no children running in the streets, laughing. The stalls in the market were closed, the essentials kept inside where all could share them.
The evacuation changed the Meadowlands from a place teeming with energy and enthusiasm to a quiet, furtive land. It was as if the life had already been drained from the Green. As if they had already died.
Still, some had stayed to carry on with the battle. For that, Tressa was grateful. She understood why they'd want to protect the children and those who could not, or would not, fight. The urgency was gone, though. It was as if the Green were waiting idly for something instead of preparing for battle.
The leaders, Jakob and Blythe, had thanked her for bringing the warriors from the Vulture's Tower. They promised her they were prepared to fight against Donovan and whatever forces of darkness he brought upon them. And yet, there were glances, faces made, that she didn't quite understand.
They were holding something back from her. Something important.
As long as they fought well, Tressa didn't care. Let them have their secrets. All Tressa wanted was victory against Donovan. After that, the others could do as they chose.
She strode into the inn, her shoulders thrown back and her eyes steely. Tressa had never wanted to be a leader, but she'd decided to take on the mantle. Someone needed to, and this war against Donovan was more personal for her than anyone else. She didn't want to be led by someone who cared less than her.
Someone had pulled the tables together. Jakob, Blythe, and Renny sat on the left. Rynth and Krom sat to the right. Connor and Fi were next to them. There were at least a dozen other men and women seated that Tressa didn't know. She quickly measured their expressions. None appeared to be anxious or irritated. In fact, at first glance, they all appeared to be confident and committed. Perfect.
"I’ve just finished speaking with Bastian," Tressa said as she took the seat at the head of the table. "He is awake and feeling better."
Murmurs of relief swept through the room.
"Then our warlord will be able to lead us into battle." Blythe sat back, a smile on her face.
Connor had filled Tressa in on everything she'd missed. That woman was the one who had brought Bastian back from the dead. She'd been looking for someone to fulfill the prophecies she so desperately believed in. It was probably easy for her to forget Bastian had a life before she turned him into a dragon. While Tressa knew Bastian had accepted the mantle Blythe offered, she still had misgivings.
"We need to give him time to recover. A head injury is never a simple thing." Tressa pretended she didn't see the annoyed look on Blythe's face. "In the meantime, we need to talk strategy. I'd like to turn the meeting over to my friend, Krom."
The others were quiet as the large man in the gray cloak stood before them. "Thank you, Tressa. Fi," he nodded toward Tressa's friend, "has told us where Donovan is hiding. I think it would be in our best interests to move toward his position. Perhaps we can even take him by surprise."
"No," Blythe said. "We make our stand here."
Tressa stood, placing her palms on the table. "Blythe, if Donovan continues to attack us here, there is nowhere to retreat to. We are bordered by the sea to the north and the west. To the south is the Sands. It's a brutal, unforgiving land. I have traveled it. Water is scarce unless you find an oasis. No. We must move east toward Donovan."
Jakob sighed. "We are pleased you came to our aid, Tressa, though we had hoped for a legion from the Black. Not this group of warriors. Though the Vulture's Tower is a place of great magic, our prophecies do not tell of their involvement. What we need are more dragons." Jakob paused, looking around the room and making eye contact with his people. "Where are they?"
Anger boiled in Tressa's stomach. Indeed. Where were the Black? The bravest of all dragons with the largest group of fighters. "They are not coming," she said.
"Why is that?" Jakob asked.
Tressa's nails dug into the wooden table. "They have chosen not to fig
ht." She wanted to lambast her great-grandmother and her dragon lover, who was now human. She wanted to tell the Green that the Black were spineless. Yet, she held back. Perhaps it was loyalty. Perhaps it was to avoid her own embarrassment over her kin’s decision to hide underground. "The warriors I've brought will fight for us. You don't need to question that."
Jakob's gaze slid over to Krom. "And where have you been, vulture? You were nowhere to be seen when we battled with the Red on the Isle of Repose. You did not rescue the villagers in Hutton's Bridge when they were trapped, nor did you help us when we were held here against our will. Why now? Is it because you see the end coming and you want to pick on our bones after we die?"
The room fell completely silent. Not even a breath could be heard. Krom crossed his arms over his chest. "What you say, it's true. We did not help. The Vulture's Tower was created to help the Dragonlands in their hour of greatest need. We have been suspended in time for nearly five hundred years. To us, it has felt like mere days. We are still at the peak of our physical prowess. We remember what the Dragonlands was like when it was settled long ago. Though it is history to you, to us it was just yesterday." Krom leaned over. "You have not seen the things we have seen. We fought in the ancient wars. We were there when the dragon kingdoms were created. We understand things you do not. When I say we should move farther inland, what I mean is this: the Vulture's Army is headed inland. Will you fight with us?"
Tressa held back a smirk. Krom had said everything she wanted to say, but with more conviction and the heavy weight of experience. Now all she had to do was wait for the Green to agree. Why wouldn't they? They were all fighting for the same thing: freedom. Surely they wanted their families to come back to the Dragonlands, free to live their lives without fear.
"No," Jakob said. "We remain here."
Tressa's jaw dropped. "Why would you do that? We stand a better chance of defeating Donovan if we move inland. Here, we are trapped!"