Dragonlands, Books 1 - 3: Hidden, Hunted, and Retribution

by Megg Jensen

  "Yes, Granna, it's me."

  "Come." Granna scooted over and patted the bed.

  Tressa sat, reluctantly, and let Granna clasp her hands.

  “Fi told us everything. How you were pulled away from the battle to the Isle of Repose. We are all grateful she followed you or we would have lost you.”

  Tressa nodded, relieved no one was angry at her.

  "You've come to ask me something," Granna said.

  Tressa swallowed the lump in her throat. "Bastian's daughter, Farah, swears she saw you when she was being held captive by the Red."

  Granna gasped, her veiny hand covering her mouth. She took a few deep breaths, then let her hand drop. "It wasn't me. Tressa, you must know that. I have nothing to do with the Red."

  "Farah is young," Tressa said, "but she's a smart little girl. Perhaps I would have assumed it was nothing more than a child's fancy, but there's more. Other sightings of a woman like you."

  "I don't know how to explain it," Granna said. "I wish I did.”

  Tressa only knew Granna's heart, and she had to believe in the woman who'd given her everything. Tressa placed a hand on her lower stomach. Well, almost everything. "She's been sighted elsewhere over the years," Tressa continued. "A woman in the Meadowlands told the story of a young girl wandering in the fog. Her description matched you so closely and they gave your name. I don't know what to make of it."

  "It's not me, Tressa." Granna sat up straight in her bed, arranging her nightgown to sit perfectly on her shoulders. "Did I venture into the fog? Yes. Did I meet someone? Yes. But it was Mestifito. Not anyone else. And I am not secretly fighting with the Red. What I do know is that something beyond our understanding is happening. War is upon us and we must fight back. Perhaps we will run into this woman again. If so, I would like to be the one to confront her."

  "I would like to be there with you," Tressa said. She sprang up from the bed, pacing her great-grandmother's bedchamber.

  "What else is there?" Granna asked. "I can see there is more than this troubling you."

  "I did something last night..." Tressa had no worries about confiding about something so personal. Granna had been her closest confidant growing up. They’d shared everything when it came to Tressa's relationships. "I betrayed Jarrett."

  Granna clicked her tongue. "I don't have to ask with whom. Bastian."

  Tressa looked at the wooden floor. "It just happened. I didn't plan for it. I'm sure Bastian didn't either."

  "And how do you feel now? Do you wish you were still with Bastian?" Granna asked.

  "No." Tressa's arms dangled to her sides. "That's the worst part. I don't feel much of anything for Bastian anymore. Maybe I'd feel better about myself if I still loved him." Tressa flopped down in a chair. "I never thought I was that kind of person. The kind who sleeps around without considering the feelings of others." She thought of all the rumors of Bastian with women in Hutton's Bridge. She remembered how they'd punctured holes in her heart.

  "We all do things we regret." Granna's feet dangled off the edge of the bed, her tiny feet swinging above the floor like a child. She stood, smoothing out her chemise. It hung loosely on her body, her skinny arms and legs sticking out of the gown. "I think the real question is one you haven't asked yet." Granna poured a cup of water for herself and one for Tressa from her bedside table. "Are you going to tell Jarrett?"

  Granna handed the wooden cup to Tressa. Lips shaking, she took a small drink, not realizing until that moment how dry her throat was. "How is he?"

  A small smile played on Granna's face. "He is better. Whatever has a hold on him cannot reach him here. Unfortunately, the mages have not been able to sever the ties. Jarrett screams in his sleep, his memories haunting him."

  Tressa set the cup down with a trembling hand. "And there I was, off with Bastian, living in the past. Jarrett needs me and what did I do?" The contempt she felt for her choices wrapped around her like an arm around the throat.

  "Go to him. Let your heart guide you on the other matter."

  "I'm going to tell him," Tressa mumbled.

  "I wouldn't expect anything less," Granna said. She walked to Tressa, laying her hand on her great-granddaughter's shoulder. "You are a woman of honor. You will do what's right."

  "I didn't last night," Tressa said, unwilling to give up her self-hatred. She wasn't the honorable and noble woman she'd tried to be all her life. She was just like everyone else. Flawed and broken, desperately trying to make sense of a chaotic life.

  "Tressa, go to Jarrett. It's late, but I know he'll welcome you. He's asked about you more than once, wanting to know if we'd had word."

  Tressa felt even worse. The stabbing inside her chest reminded her how violent the heart could be. "I'll go now." She stood, hugging her great-grandmother. "Thank you."

  "Of course. And thank you for not believing that woman was me. We will unravel this tangled web of lies. For now, you need to see Jarrett. Then get some sleep. We are regrouping and heading back out in a few days."

  “Does Jarrett know you’re holding his brother, Avital, in the dungeon?” Tressa asked.

  Granna shook her head. “We thought it best he not know. No one trusts Avital. Do you?”

  “No,” Tressa said. “I don’t. I hate keeping more secrets from Jarrett, but considering his current state…”

  “It is better we keep them separate for now. Don’t worry, we are caring for Avital. He wants for nothing.”

  “Thank you,” Tressa said. "That reminds me. Are you familiar with the boundary around the Meadowlands?"

  Granna nodded. "I only recently heard about it. As you know, we've kept to ourselves here under the Charred Barrens. Our scouts had reported less activity in the north in the past couple years, but they weren't aware of the boundary until recently. Why?"

  "I spoke with the council in the Meadowlands. They believe magic can take the barrier down. And if we rescue them, they are willing to share something valuable with us."

  "What's that?" Granna asked.

  "They've been making dragon armor, and they are willing to fight with us against the Red."

  Granna laughed, her hands on her tiny belly. "Well, well, it sounds like we have allies. There may be hope yet. Thank you, Tressa! You've not only given me hope, but this will boost the morale of everyone who fights against the tyranny in the northeast." She patted Tressa's shoulder. "Now go to Jarrett. Take care of your heart. You won't be able to relax until you do."

  Chapter Forty-One

  "Come in." The voice came from inside, weak, but sure.

  Tressa's fist still hovered at the wooden door. After rapping twice, she'd waited for a moment before she nearly bolted back to her own chambers. But he'd heard. He'd answered. She hadn’t been sure he'd be able to hear the knock after losing his ears.

  She pushed the door open and entered with a tentative smile on her face. "I see you're doing better." She laid a gentle kiss on his cheek.

  "I am now that you’re here," Jarrett said. “The mages said they can’t heal my ears, but they were able to lay some magic on me that allows me to hear a bit better.” He sat up in his chair and set the book he'd been reading in his lap.

  Tressa leaned over, reading the cover. "Secrets of the Mage. Sounds interesting."

  "It is," Jarrett said. "Trying to learn a little bit more about magic. I'd like to learn to harness it. Maybe I can figure out how to break this bond myself, since no one else is able to." He stood up. "At least here I can't hear the invader's voice in my head." He held his arms open.

  Tressa collapsed into them.

  "I missed you," he said, whispering into her hair.

  "I missed you too. So much," she said, echoing him. Her arms wrapped around Jarrett and she buried her face in his chest. She took a deep breath. No matter how long he'd been away from the Sands, he still had an air of exotic spice wafting around him.

  He caressed her hair with one hand while the other rested on her hip. Tressa looked up, offering his lips to him. They kiss
ed, familiar and filled with longing.

  Jarrett pushed on her shoulders, gently, but enough to break their embrace. "We shouldn't. One of the mages expressed concern. It's possible the person who has enchanted me can hear and sense what goes on around me. I don't want anyone to share in this but us."

  Tressa nodded, wringing her hands. Guilt washed over her. If Jarrett was right, then it was the wrong time to tell him about her indiscretion with Bastian. No one knew but the two of them, and she certainly didn't want some evil mage to have leverage over Jarrett. No. She'd tell him later.

  With relief coursing through her chest, Tressa managed a small smile. "It's okay. We have our whole lives ahead of us."

  Jarrett smiled back. "We do."

  They stared at each other in an uneasy silence. Tressa had so much she wanted to tell him, but knowing someone else could be listening in left her mute. Jarrett reached out, taking her hand in his. He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.

  Bastian’s face flashed in her mind. Tressa jerked her hand away. "Sorry," she said, backing up. "It's just that—”

  She paused, and Jarrett looked at her expectantly. That same trusting look in his eyes. She opened her mouth, taking a deep breath, ready to tell him, despite whoever might be listening in. "While I was in Hutton's Bridge last night—”

  "Are Bastian, Elinor, and Connor okay?" Jarrett interrupted. His eyes narrowed and his shoulders slumped. "I still don’t remember what I did on the Isle of Repose." He spun around, stalking back to his chair. "I wish I hadn't taken them to that damned island." He rested a hand on the back of the chair, gripping it until his knuckles turned white.

  She rested her hand atop his. "Jarrett, they know that." Well, Bastian and Elinor knew it. Connor would have more trouble understanding, but no one would ever hold it against him if he couldn't forgive Jarrett. Tressa doubted Jarrett would ever forgive himself.

  Jarrett didn't, or wouldn't, turn and look at her. "I wish I could help. Somehow make it up to them."

  Tressa leaned her head on his arm. She thought of everything that had happened since he'd called her to that island. "Wait. I think I know a way you can help."

  Jarrett turned, his eyes sad, but hopeful.

  "When you compelled me to the Isle of Repose, you used magic unlike anything I've ever seen from you," Tressa said.

  Jarrett nodded. "I don't think it was fully me. Whoever was controlling me used my body as a vessel for his power."

  "That's what I thought," Tressa said. Despite everything, a smile slipped out.

  "I think I have an idea,” Jarrett said. “What if we lure the Red army to the Isle of Repose. Do you think I could help us destroy them?"

  Tressa's head was swimming with possibilities. The Black could station themselves in the Meadowlands. With only a signal, they could fly to the Isle, using Jarrett’s magic to attack the Red. Obviously it was stronger when he was on the island. Though, it would be risky. Lives could be lost, but in war, lives were to be lost anyway.

  They could all be free.

  "It might work," Tressa said, her voice guarded and hesitant. "But what if you can't control yourself? What if you hurt another innocent?"

  Jarrett flashed a smile. "I won't. Not again. I know I won't.”

  “Okay,” Tressa said. “I'm going to talk to Granna about this." She'd started to tell him about Bastian and she was too heartsick to try again after he'd changed the topic. The last thing he needed now was to add her indiscretion to his sadness. No, not now. It wasn't time. "I need to prepare to leave for the Meadowlands. Get some rest. Someone will come for you when it’s time to fly.”

  Jarrett leaned over, kissing Tressa. "I love you.”

  "I love you, too," she said. Tressa left the room, slightly sick to her stomach. She didn't deserve a man like Jarrett. He was upstanding and honest. She was nothing. Worse than nothing for betraying him.

  ***

  Jarrett sat back down on the chair, picking up the book he'd been reading. He closed his eyes. He didn't need to read it. Not now. He'd learned everything about becoming a mage in a short time. The spells. How to prepare his body and mind. Using stealth and trickery to get what he wanted. It was all engrained in him.

  All thanks to his master on the Isle of Repose.

  Jarrett, my pet, have you done it? Have you convinced the dragons to come to my island so we can finally dispose of all of them?

  "Yes, master," he answered.

  A voice cackled deep inside Jarrett's mind. Soon it would be over. There would be no more war. All the dragons would be dead and Tressa’s death would be the most delicious.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Mages from the Black held hands and chanted until the invisible wall became visible. Tressa gasped as the Green dragons disappeared momentarily. Then the solid white wall, glittering with veins of magic, exploded, dissipating into the air. The smoke cleared and one Green dragon took a tentative step forward. One claw crossed the line where the barrier had stood. Then another, until all three of his claws moved beyond.

  Next, a foot. Then another, until he was tripped up by a smaller dragon bounding over him, tumbling across the grass and landing at Tressa's feet. The little dragon popped up, swirled in the air, and landed on human feet, her dress swishing at her ankles.

  "You did it!" Margret yelled and clapped, dancing.

  Tressa reached out for the young girl. "It's all thanks to you. You're the one who found me on the beach. If you hadn't told me everything, then I wouldn't have been able to come back and free you. You deserve all the praise."

  Margret's cheeks turned pink. She hugged Tressa.

  "Margret! You were told to wait until we were sure it was safe. You could have been killed," a woman called out.

  Tressa looked up, letting the girl go.

  "Sorry, Momma," Margret said. "I saw Renny’s claws were okay, so I took the chance."

  "What if he had been wrong? What if he'd been off by only a few steps? You'd be laying on the ground, hurt, or worse." The woman strode forward, her curly red hair streaming down past her hips. She shook a finger at Margret.

  "You must be Margret's mother," Tressa said, stepping between the two and offering her hand. "I'm happy to finally meet you."

  The woman sighed, her shoulders drooping, and the anger washing away. "Yes, I'm Mary." She took Tressa's hand in hers, pumping it vigorously. "It's nice to meet you as well. Thank you for everything you've done for our people."

  "I'm happy to," Tressa said.

  "And we have a debt to pay," Blythe said, making her way over to Tressa and Mary. "You did as you said. Now we will do as we promised. Our wings and fire are yours. Our teeth and talons fight for you."

  "Not for me. For freedom. For an end to tyranny." Tressa wrapped her arm around Margret's shoulder. "For the children and their future."

  "Do you have children of your own?" Mary asked.

  It was only a question born out of curiosity. Still, Tressa's lack of children haunted her in a way no one else could understand. She thought of the baby she'd lost without even knowing. She'd been healed in the sea and begun again in these grasslands.

  "No," Tressa said, "but maybe someday. I would like to have children very much." She ruffled Margret's hair. "As much as I'd like to get to you know you better, Mary, we must begin our preparations for battle. We have a secret weapon." She glanced back at Jarrett, who sat alone at the edge of the milling crowds. "We need to prepare. I'll fill you in as the others get ready to sleep for the night."

  ***

  The next morning, Tressa emerged from her sleeping roll in the meadow. Renny had offered her a place in the hall, but she chose to stay outside with the others from the Black. Granna had also turned them down, preferring to sleep curled up in Mestifito's wing. Their close relationship, one that had spanned decades and heartache touched Tressa. She looked over at Jarrett, still asleep and within arm's reach.

  Tressa fought the urge to reach out and touch Jarrett's short hair. He'd shorn it to
the scalp after arriving at the Ruins of Ebon, keeping it away from the still-healing wounds where his ears used to be. Instead, she held back, letting him sleep. He would need his strength for what lay ahead.

  Tressa admired his conviction. He was willing to help the Black, even though it meant going back to the island and getting ever closer to the one who controlled him. He was a warrior, battle would be easy for him. Giving himself over to the beast that had mutilated him would prove the greater challenge. Freeing him from whatever held him captive would be their final task. Together they could do it. Tressa was sure of that. They could face anything together.

  The camp sprang to life around her, as if they sensed her awakening. People ate over small campfires, sharing rounds of mead and water, breaking bread, and pulling grapes from their stems. Still, Jarrett slept, a neutral expression on his face. His chest rose and fell in measured breaths.

  Tressa shook off the night's sleep and walked to Fi's fire. "May I sit with you?" she asked her dear friend.

  "Of course," Fi said, scooting over on her log. "Are you ready for today?" She nodded at the dragons getting fitted with armor at the outskirts of the camp.

  "I don't know if I can ever be ready for battle," Tressa admitted. "Honestly, I'm getting a little tired of it. Do you think this will really end the war?"

  "If we can chop off the head, the snake will die," Fi said. "We'll lure the Red Queen out and we'll kill her."

  "You make it sound so simple," Tressa said.

  "It is. It's a simple plan, which is always the best. Unfortunately, we have a lot of people out there, and any one of them can make a mistake that tips the balance from our favor. We just have to hope we can pull it off, no matter what happens." Fi took a bite of jerky, chewing noisily with her mouth partially open. She swallowed and smiled at Tressa. "Sorry, but I like to eat a lot before a battle. No one wants to be up there with an empty stomach."

  Off to the side, dragons began their mock battles. Knocking into each other, striking with a taloned foot, all in an effort to test their new armor. Not only did it hold, but there wasn't a dent to be seen.