Reckoning (Book 5)

by Megg Jensen

  Tressa pulled her horse up alongside Krom. "I'm going to change into my dragon. I want you to slice my stomach so I can bleed on the shades from above."

  "I can't hurt you," Krom said, his eyes wide.

  "You're a soldier. You know what's at risk. I won't die from this if you do it right. I trust you to make a clean cut. One that can be bandaged and healed." Tressa grabbed Krom's shoulders. "You must do this, or the shades will sweep over the warriors and kill us all. I don’t have time to explain this to the other dragons."

  Alden and his friends blew ice, erecting a wall between the army and shades, buying time. The murky shadow began climbing over the ice wall, coming ever closer.

  "No!" Hazel pulled up alongside them. "I've done so little. I'm not trained for battle. But, I can do this. Please!"

  Tressa grabbed Hazel's hand. "This is dangerous. I don't want you getting hurt."

  Hazel shrugged. "If all I have to do is fly over the shades and drip blood, then I am in no danger. I can do this."

  Tressa took a deep breath, then nodded. "We’ll fly over once, then come back. That should do it."

  It would be a quick mission, and one that would give Hazel purpose. She'd noticed Hazel's dragon hanging back from battle, unsure of what to do. Now her friend would feel like she'd truly contributed.

  "Do it to both of us. There's safety in numbers." Tressa squeezed Hazel's hand. "Thank you for volunteering."

  "It's better than watching Connor and Bastian fight Decarian." Hazel grimaced. "Ready?"

  "Ready."

  The two women changed into their dragons. Krom carefully sliced each of them on the belly. Tressa winced, but took the air as quickly as she could, ignoring the pain. It would all be over soon. As soon as they eradicated the shades, they could be bandaged.

  Tressa and Hazel flew in tandem, blood dripping from their bellies. As they flew over Alden's ice wall, their blood began falling on the shades. The shadow quickly retreated, but Hazel and Tressa pursued it, their blood saturating the ground, spattering the bodies of their fallen comrades. Tressa refused to look at the place where Granna and Mestifito had fallen. She didn't want to see their bodies. Not now. She would take care of them when the battle was done.

  The shade retracted, folding in on itself until it was no more than a tiny speck under them. Another drop of Hazel’s blood erased the last trace of the shade. Tressa bobbed her head toward Hazel, indicating they should turn back. It was time to be bandaged. Then they could advance on Donovan again.

  Bastian and Connor were still fighting Decarian, who didn't seem to be tiring at all. In fact, his hideous mouth was curved in a smile. He was enjoying this. Toying with the dragons as a cat might with a trapped mouse. Tressa's stomach dropped. They needed help.

  A screech behind Tressa interrupted her thoughts. Tressa spun around in the air, her eyes scanning the ground, but it was too late. The shade hadn’t been vanquished after all. In one final effort, it nabbed Hazel's leg and pulled her to the ground. The shade swallowed her whole, then dripped off Hazel's motionless, prone dragon body until the darkness was no more.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Tressa's spirit deflated. Not another innocent. Hazel didn't deserve death at the hands of the shades. Granna and Mestifito had been fighters; they understood what they were getting into. Hazel had two young boys and two dragonlings with Connor. They needed their mother, and now they'd have to go on without her. Tressa felt sick to her stomach. Part of her wanted to turn around and run. The other part, the stronger part, was filled with a deep need to kill Donovan and his army once and for all.

  Tressa came about, heading toward Decarian. Connor hadn't noticed his wife's fate yet. Just as well. Tressa needed him to kill Decarian quickly so she could get to Donovan. His Black dragon flitted in the air behind Decarian, probably biding his time, hoping his greatest weapon would kill the dragons. To get to Donovan, they needed to fell Decarian.

  Tressa took the dead Yellow dragon’s place in the circle of attack.

  Get out of here, Bastian said.

  You need my help. Tressa flew around Decarian, striking impulsively.

  You're being too reckless, Bastian said.

  Tressa ignored his thoughts and kept at it. At this rate, Bastian and Connor would drop from exhaustion before blinding the demon. She would end this. Now. Tressa swooped down to Decarian's face. Instead of striking and retreating, she stabbed him with her talons over and over again, refusing to give up until the demon was blinded. The dragons couldn't win this part of the battle without taking a risk.

  Focusing all of her attention on Decarian, Tressa needled his eyes with her talons, whipping back and forth, trying her best to stay away from his swatting hands. Just as she'd hoped, Decarian was loathe to hit himself in the face, his hands only half-heartedly swiping at her. With a blind fury, Tressa continued her assault, her goals forefront in her mind.

  Maim Decarian. Kill Donovan.

  Maim Decarian. Kill Donovan.

  Maim Decarian. Kill Donovan.

  And she was almost there. Decarian screeched, his hands becoming more forceful as he grabbed for her. But Tressa was too fast. He wouldn't catch her. Not before she'd done what she planned. This time the victory would be hers.

  Tressa took one last stab at Decarian. His eyelids squeezed shut in pain as tears slipped down his cheeks. She scratched at his lids, and blood mingled with his tears.

  Then she was snatched away from his face. Decarian squeezed her body, threatening to break her ribcage. Tressa gasped for air as the demon's eyes opened again, a frightening mess of black eyes and red blood. He smiled and opened his mouth.

  Tressa struggled to break free. She bit at his fingers, but to no avail. Decarian had her, just as he'd had Destrian, the Yellow dragon. She considered changing into her human form. She would slip from his hand—and fall to her death. The distance was too great. There was no chance she would survive the drop.

  Tressa gasped for air as he squeezed tighter. Decarian’s rancid breath blanketed her as he pulled her closer to his mouth. This was it, then. The end. Her end.

  Decarian’s arm jerked, and he dropped Tressa. She flapped hard to stay aloft, snapping her eyes open just in time to see Bastian fly into Decarian's mouth, blowing fire into the back of the demon's throat.

  Tressa screeched, flying as fast as she could toward Decarian. But it was too late. His mouth snapped shut with Bastian inside. He bit down, hard, and swallowed.

  Decarian swayed back and forth, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. With the weight of a falling tree, he toppled to the ground, dead. His chest was still, his eyes open and unblinking.

  Bastian had saved her. He killed Decarian. But he took her heart with him. Tressa looked up into the air, in the distance, toward Donovan who had flown away after Decarian’s defeat.

  With revenge in her soul, Tressa took off after Donovan. She would not let the loss and sacrifice be in vain. She would kill Donovan for all he had done. For all he had taken from her. It was his time to die.

  Tressa fought past her weariness, catching up to Donovan quickly. She unleashed a fury of fire at the Black dragon, fueled by rage. He flew out of the fiery cloud, unscathed. Donovan swung around, facing Tressa head on.

  She lunged forward, her blood-stained talons scratching at his belly. Donovan thrust his neck at her from the side. Tressa ducked, avoiding the impact. Again she leaped in the air, her jaws wide open, her teeth ready to strike.

  Landing on Donovan's chest, Tressa ripped at him with every part of her body. Talons, claws, teeth, the spike on the end of her tail. She fought with such fervor that the two tumbled through the sky, landing on the ground together. A snap echoed in the quiet air. Donovan's wing was bent under him at an unnatural angle.

  Donovan struggled to move. As Tressa prepared to strike her final blow, Donovan changed into a human. He cradled his broken arm against his chest. "You wouldn't kill me like this. You're too honorable, Tressa."

  She lowered her
head to the man who'd killed nearly everyone she loved. With slitted eyes, she took him in. Like this, he appeared to be just an injured man. Not a man who had engineered the deaths of hundreds, maybe thousands, over the years. She didn't know the extent of his evil, nor did she want to.

  "Take me as a prisoner. Don't kill me. Not like this. You know why I did it. To kill the dragons. To save my love, Magda. To right all the wrong I've done." Donovan held his good arm out in supplication. "I'm just like you."

  Tressa snorted. Like her? There wasn't one way in which he was like her.

  "If you kill me, like this, you are no better than me." Donovan's brow furrowed. "Murdering a helpless, broken man. What would that make you?"

  Tressa changed into her human form, grabbing a sword from a fallen skeleton. "What would that make me?" Tressa stalked over to Donovan, running the sword through his chest without any consideration.

  Donovan's mouth fell open. Blood bubbled over his lips as he looked at her in surprise.

  "That would make me the hand of justice." She twisted the sword, then rested one foot on Donovan's hip, pushing him backward. With a sucking sound, Donovan slid off the sword, crumpling to the earth. Dead.

  Tressa threw the bloody sword on the ground next to him. She turned into her dragon, then ate him whole, swallowing Donovan’s body with relish. Tressa turned back into her human form.

  So it was done. Finally.

  She didn't want to turn around and face all the dead behind her. Tressa didn't know how to go on with her life now that so many of those she loved were dead.

  It was a long time before someone came up behind her, placed hands on her shoulders, and led her away. Tressa kept her eyes on the ground as she walked back to her horse. There was nothing left worth seeing. It was truly done.

  A warrior from the Vulture's Tower army helped her onto her horse. Tressa lay there, her head resting on the horse's neck, exhaustion finally taking its toll.

  A loud rumble behind her shook the ground. Tressa turned her head, resting her cheek on the horse. She looked for the source of the sound, hoping it wasn't yet another enemy. She couldn't fight anymore.

  Not far away, Decarian's body began to bubble, the demon's skin expanding and turning pink, until it exploded in a violent mess of blood and guts. Tressa wiped her cheek, flinging the entrails onto the grass.

  There were screams. Then a flurry of people rushed toward Decarian's body. Tressa closed her eyes. She no longer cared.

  The buzz grew louder and louder as people made their way toward Tressa. She opened her eyes once more, wondering why they wouldn't just leave her alone. Through blurry eyes, she saw a tall man with red hair and wide shoulders.

  "Tressa?" He laid a hand on her back. "It's me, Bastian. I'm okay."

  Her heart leapt with hope as she passed out.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Tressa leaned over the prow of the boat, her hands folded as if in prayer. She closed her eyes, letting the spray kiss her face. The warm sun dried her off in mere breaths, and the cycle repeated itself again. She didn't move from her spot, relaxing in the repetition of nature. In a few days they’d land on the far shore, find the children from Hutton’s Bridge, and offer to bring them back to the Dragonlands.

  Arms wrapped around her waist and lips planted a kiss on her cheek. "How are you this morning?"

  Tressa's eyelashes fluttered. She turned around, letting Bastian hold her tightly against his chest. She took a deep breath and sighed. "Same as I was yesterday. Melancholy. Wishful."

  Bastian pushed Tressa's dark hair back from her face, kissing her forehead. "I'm sorry you lost your great-grandmother. Fi. Jarrett."

  "Even Barden. I was sad to see Marden holding his brother's body on the battlefield." Tressa thought of the two men she'd met when she'd fought her way into the Black Guard of Ashoom. Back then she'd been timid. Now she was a new person. Broken so many times, but still alive. There was a great deal of mending to do.

  A throat cleared behind Bastian. They weren't alone. She peeked around Bastian's shoulder to find Connor standing there, his sandy hair billowing in the sea breeze.

  "How's Hazel?" Tressa asked.

  "Still weak, but she's getting better." Connor offered a small smile.

  A wound slashed through his eyebrow. It would leave a scar. Tressa was ashamed she didn't even know when he'd been hurt. "I'm relieved she survived the shade's attack. I thought..." Tressa stumbled over the words.

  "Of course you believed she was dead." Connor rubbed Tressa's arm. "I don't blame you for not checking before you came over to help Bastian and me with Decarian. There were plenty of others there. You did what you had to do."

  Guilt gnawed at Tressa's heart. She should have taken the time to check Hazel for signs of life before heading off to another fight, instead of assuming her friend's wife was dead. "I'm so glad the healers got to her quickly. They said she’ll make a full recovery." Tressa wanted to smile, to show Connor her support. She couldn't. Not yet. The pain was still too fresh.

  "I know. She knows. It's fine. Really. We all had our own trials to face that day. Especially Bastian." Connor turned to his friend. "How did you manage to get Decarian to explode like that?"

  Bastian had told Tressa the story the night before. How when Gaia had died, she had kissed Bastian, breathing her last bit of magic into him. He hadn't known what to do with it, keeping it hidden inside himself until Decarian had swallowed him. He’d released a burst of energy, exploded Decarian from the inside, and emerged from the beast’s stomach.

  He had also explained how time worked in the Vulture’s Tower, and how they had traveled far and wide, begging for help from all of the dragonlords. They had even found the land across the sea, bringing back the Green who had fled. She didn’t fully understand how Krom and his men manipulated time. However it worked, she was grateful to them.

  Tressa stepped away from the two men, making her way along the deck. The boat sailed gently toward the west. They were heading back to Bastian and Connor's children and dragonlings. They were going to collect them and bring them back to the Dragonlands. Instead of flying over, they'd all agreed to travel together by boat. Connor didn't want to leave Hazel's side. Tressa and Bastian were too exhausted to argue. The boat would get them there soon enough.

  Tressa looked up at the sky. A passing cloud reminded her of Alden and his ghost dragons. He had promised her they’d be waiting for her back in the Dragonlands. The sun was rising as the moon still hung in the sky, almost colorless in the morning light. After Donovan's death it had lost its bloody appearance.

  Tressa had hoped she'd do the same after a night of sleep. That she would wake up and feel magically better. Perhaps even relieved. It had been two days since Donovan's defeat, and all Tressa felt was regret and sadness.

  Krom and the others from the Vulture's Tower had offered to stay behind and bury the dead. They had no one to fetch from across the sea. Tressa wasn't even sure they'd still be there when she got back. So she'd thanked them and left.

  She couldn't stand to be near the battlefield, though she wasn't sure she knew any place that didn’t harbor bad memories. The lands of the Red, the Blue, the Black, the Yellow, and the Green. All of them held her worst nightmares. None of them were safe, least of all Hutton's Bridge.

  "Tressa?" Bastian came up behind her again. "Connor and I are going to grab something to eat. Would you like to join us?"

  Tressa sighed. Food. She knew she needed to eat, but she hadn't been able to swallow more than a couple bites at every meal. She took another deep breath. It seemed as if each inhalation was a struggle. A painful reminder that she was alive, even though so many she loved had died.

  Bastian wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "It'll take time, but I truly believe you'll start to feel better eventually. Until then, you only need to put one foot in front of the other. Keep breathing. Let me take care of the rest."

  Tressa nodded. He knew her faults and her strengths, if she had any strengths left
. She wasn't sure. Donovan hadn’t won, but he'd left an indelible mark on her soul. A dark smudge that reminded her how brutally she’d fought and how mercilessly she'd slaughtered him.

  As they approached the cabin, a small squawk caught her attention. Tressa spun around, her eyes searching the air. It was silly. For a moment she thought she'd heard the little owl, Nerak, who guided her out of the fog surrounding Hutton's Bridge. It wasn't possible, though. Nerak had died at the hands of Bastian's mother.

  There it was again. Tressa perked up as she looked around. "Did you hear that?" she asked Bastian.

  His eyebrows furrowed. "I did. It sounds like an owl, but there wouldn't be an owl out at sea."

  A woman emerged from the cabin, chuckling, with an owl perched on her sleeve. "Looks like we have a stowaway."

  Tears formed in the corners of Tressa's eyes. She held out her hand to the bird. Its wings unfurled. It jumped from the woman's arm and flew to Tressa, landing on her outstretched hand with careful talons. She ran two fingers along the owl's downy back. The gray and white feathers ruffled as the owl settled onto Tressa as if she were its normal perch.

  "Hi," Tressa said.

  Love. Found.

  Tressa gasped. It was a magical owl like Nerak. Then she laughed. Of course it was. Wasn't that the way of things in the Dragonlands? Magic appeared when she least it expected it. Or when she needed it most. Tressa wasn't sure which was the truth. At the moment, she wasn't sure she cared.

  Tressa looked up at Bastian, grinning. It felt so strange. She hadn't truly smiled in a long time. Maybe she would make it through. Maybe the best was yet to come.

  "I'm feeling a bit hungry now. What did we bring to eat?" she asked.

  Bastian kissed Tressa on the top of her head. Then he led her into the cabin where a bowl of bread sat next to a plate of jerky.

  "It was all we could get on short notice," Bastian said.

  They sat at the table, Connor next to Tressa. The three best friends had survived the worst together. They'd died. They'd been reborn. They'd lost, and they'd loved.