by Megg Jensen
"It's amazing," Tressa said. "The armor appears light enough to fly in without much trouble."
"I think we should count ourselves lucky you are on our side, Tressa. Because the Green was preparing for a battle. It could have easily been against us. They are a strong ally and it's thanks to you they're fighting with us."
Tressa swirled the water in her cup. She watched it spin in a circle with a tiny funnel in the middle. There were wonders everywhere, even in the smallest things, particularly in places she often didn't think to look. "I didn't do anything amazing, Fi. It was pure luck I ended up on the shores of the Meadowlands."
Fi snorted. "Then I guess we have Jacinda to thank. The Yellow Queen set you on the path that led not only to freeing the Meadowlands, but also to them giving us all of this armor."
"She also gave me Jarrett," Tressa said. "And look how he has suffered. If you give me credit for our chance at victory, then I also take the blame for Jarrett's troubles."
Fi wrapped an arm around Tressa's shoulders. "We'll find a way to heal him completely. I promise. And I'm so sorry I couldn't help more. I really thought our healers and mages would find a way to sever whatever hold is over him."
"I'm glad you took him to the Ruins," Tressa said. "I would have foolishly clung to him when what he needed was to rest and heal. Besides, I had a job to do. I'll do what it takes to end this war."
Bells clanged in the village. Tressa's jumped up. "That's the call to arms. The first group will be headed out, acting as bait."
"Then it's time for us to set up our little surprise," Fi said, standing and stretching her legs.
"And I need to prepare Jarrett for submitting to the magic’s control again," Tressa said. She regretted using him in this way, even though he had agreed to help in any way he could. Unfortunately, she had to put him directly in the path of death for them to have any chance at a normal life.
Chapter Forty-Three
Tressa spent the morning with Jarrett. He spent a lot of time reassuring her he would be fine. That he would submit to the Keeper’s power, and that the Black mages would be able to bring him back to her. They hadn’t been able to sever the bond, but they felt they’d learned enough to shield it.
Fi ran over to them, tugging Tressa away by the elbow.
"How goes it?" Tressa asked. Fi had been consulting with a scout. The man mounted his dragon, taking off once more into the clear late afternoon sky.
"Good." Fi ran a hand through her black hair. "Our first flight of dragons has kept the Red army occupied all day. Soon they'll break in retreat."
"What if the Red doesn't follow?" Tressa asked. Their entire plan hinged on getting the Red army, and its queen, to follow them to the Isle of Repose. Once they were on their way, the Black mages would unshield Jarrett. Then it was all up to his strange power to take down the enemy.
"They will. Our men have already found a good lure." Fi smiled, her teeth glinting in the light of the newly setting sun.
"What's that?"
"They noticed one dragon fighting from the back. Lots of bravado. Little actual skill, yet the other dragons protected him. That tells us that this dragon is being allowed to fight, but not on the front lines like the others. He's important. A child of the queen, perhaps," Fi said. "I wish we had more intelligence on the Red. They've been too good at hiding what's been going on there for the last eighty years. Since the fog fell on your town and the war was suspended, everything's been strangely quiet in the northeast."
Tressa wished she'd had more time to explore and learn about Malum. In their haste to find the children, they'd caused a lot of trouble but learned very little. "I do still think it's all related to the honey."
"Ah yes," Fi said, "the mysterious honey of Hutton's Bridge. Everyone fights for it, but no one knows why."
Tressa glanced over at Granna and Mestifito. They wanted answers and had spent years trying to discern the reason for the Red's obsession with the honey from her little town. But if their plan worked, they would never find out. The Red Queen would be dead. Granna had reluctantly agreed that in the name of peace, she should not be spared—even if it meant the mystery would never be solved.
The dragon that had left not long ago was flying back, frantic, followed by their other dragons in their battle armor. Four riders held onto ropes, their muscles straining. Tressa could see their pained grimaces from the ground. Trailing behind them, fighting against the restraints, was a small Red dragon.
"They're early!" Fi screamed. She jumped from the stump she'd been sitting on and ran for the bell.
"Prepare Jarrett," Tressa yelled to the mages who were sitting on the grass playing a game of dice.
They left the bone dice on the patchy ground, forming a circle around Jarrett. They chanted in unison, in a language Tressa couldn't understand until Jarrett stirred and groaned.
Tressa bolted under their arms, landing on the ground next to Jarrett. "It's time," she said. "We need you."
Jarrett sat up. His eyes were alert. Jarrett pulled Tressa in, his lips landing on hers, kissing her with a hunger she'd missed.
"Jarrett," she said, pulling away, "I have something to tell you." He had to know before he went any further that the woman he was fighting for had betrayed him.
"There isn't time," he said, standing and brushing the dirt off his pants. Jarrett looked up into the sky at the ebony and emerald dragons attempting to yank the fighting ruby dragon to the ground. "They are coming. The dragons are coming to me. I have to be ready for them."
"But..." she sputtered, annoyed at herself and the urgency she felt. They needed Jarrett, yet it wasn't right to ask him to fight. When he heard the truth, he might want to leave Tressa standing there to get roasted by the incoming army. "That night in Hutton's Bridge," she said, breathless, "I didn't spend the night alone."
"Bastian?" he asked, his voice stony and his eyes vacant.
She nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. "You don't have to stay and fight. I'm so sorry. Don't put yourself in harm's way. Not for me." And then she knew the truth. She hadn't waited to tell him because of fear of rejection. No, it was fear of Jarrett losing his life on the battlefield. She wanted him to reject her. She wanted him to leave now. To save himself. To live, instead of facing an army that would try to rip him to shreds. "Go," she pleaded with him. Her head swam. Confusion wrapped around her thoughts. She’d promised herself she would keep the secret, and now she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
One of the mages coughed.
Tressa started, forgetting they'd been standing there the whole time. They'd heard her confession.
"They are coming," a mage said, pointing to the sky.
In the distance, the Red horde vibrated in the air.
"Step away," Jarrett commanded. "All of you. Step back." He raised his hands to the sky.
"You don't have to do this," Tressa said, tugging on his arm. She'd lost everything. She lost her life in Hutton's Bridge. She'd lost Bastian. She'd lost her humanity. She'd lost her self-respect. Now she would lose Jarrett, if only he would listen to her.
Jarrett shook her arm off of his with surprising strength. Tressa stumbled backward. He turned, looking at her, his eyes red and glowing.
Tressa's hand flew to her mouth. He had changed without changing. The differences were subtle, but striking. His eyes, his stance, the hunch of his shoulder.
"Tonight I feast on the flesh of the dragons! Come to me!" It wasn't Jarrett's voice, but another's. One Tressa knew and feared. The thing that had controlled him did so once again.
Jarrett's hands were pointed toward the red cloud. Balls of fire exploded from his hands, mixing with a chortle dripping from his slack lips.
Tressa could see the Red’s individual wings now. Some alighted with fire. They lost altitude and crashed into other dragons in flight, knocking them to the sea below. The concentrated mass of dragons in pursuit didn't hesitate. They flew harder, faster, swerving to avoid Jarrett's fireballs.
"To the sky,
" called out one of the leaders behind Tressa. Uncountable numbers of Black and Green dragons with riders on their backs burst into the air, flying toward the Red army.
Tressa stood still, her hands shaking. She should take to the sky too. Join the Black dragons in locating the queen. She clenched her fists, her arms trembling at her sides. But the change wouldn't come. The dragon inside slept. Or hid. She wasn't sure which.
She glanced at Jarrett. Everything inside her screamed. Stay with him. Jarrett was her only concern. Her thoughts were confused, erratic. Tressa clamped her hands over her head. She only knew that for the first time since stepping into the fog, she doubted every decision she'd made until that very moment.
Chapter Forty-Four
Bastian ignored the gnawing pit in his stomach. He and Connor had left Hutton’s Bridge shrouded in fog the day before and headed north to meet Tressa’s army. He couldn’t shake his anxiety at leaving Farah with Elinor. The woman wasn’t the sweet, young healer he thought he knew. She was obsessive, controlling, much like her father. She’d claimed to be very different from the man who’d stolen the dragon eggs, but at their core, they were much the same.
And now his daughter was trapped in Elinor’s clutches.
Bastian and Connor had waited in the meadow, camping and watching for any sign of the army. Once the Black and Green dragons had appeared above them, Bastian had leapt on Connor and they took to the sky.
The wind raked through his hair and lashed at his face, stinging his eyes. Connor’s wings beat against the currents, refusing to give nature an advantage over them. Nothing would stop the two of them from reaching the war. Both had children to protect. Both had a driving need to make the world safer for the next generation.
Bastian scanned the dragonriders of the Black, looking for Tressa, but he didn’t see her. No matter. He’d find her after the battle. He’d tell her what Elinor had done. Together, Tressa, Connor, and Bastian would find a resolution. That was the source of all of their problems. Once they’d been separated, everything spun out of control. Together, the three of them were unstoppable.
Even if Bastian and Tressa never found their way back to each other, even if she insisted on staying with that traitorous Jarrett, they still needed to work together. Connor was the brains. Bastian was the brawn. Tressa was the heart. Just as they’d always been.
Connor swooped between two ebony dragons, settling into the pattern. The other dragons nodded their heads, and the riders raised a fist in the air. Until Fotia and Vatra grew to full size, Connor was the only Blue dragon who could join in battle. The other dragons knew the significance of his appearance.
Bastian raised his sword as the dragons broke rank when the Red horde arrived. Connor weaved in and out of the fray, Bastian thrusting at the Red, both dragon and rider. He clutched Connor’s scales with one hand, his nails digging into the hard skin. Bastian wished they’d had time to procure a saddle like the other riders. His thighs strained against Connor, the scales digging in, piercing Bastian’s skin. Blood welled up, staining his pants. Still, he held on and fought.
His arm weary, his chest exhausted from the strained breaths, Bastian slumped against Connor. Despite being unable to communicate with words, Connor seemed to understand Bastian needed a break. He fell back behind the main thrust of the flying army. For the first time he could see the balls of fire coming from the ground.
Bastian glanced down, tracing their path to the source.
Jarrett.
The lying bastard. Jarrett wasn’t just a humble warrior. He had more magic in him than he’d dared let any of them know. Tressa stood next to Jarrett, her fists clenched, her dark hair blowing in the wind.
Bastian’s heart ached. He wanted to go down there, sweep her away from Jarrett, and fly her to safety. But she’d made her choice.
Bastian’s eyes were pulled back to the battle. The fire from the dragons’ mouths mingled with the balls coming from Jarrett. Bastian begrudgingly admitted that the man was helping them.
A moment later, a Black dragon howled, its neck snapping downward, its eyes trained on Jarrett. Bastian looked again. The crazed man laughed, his shoulders shaking, as fireballs continued to burst from his palms, landing on not just the Red, but also now the Black dragons.
“What in the name of all that’s holy?” Bastian dug his heels into Connor’s sides, pushing down with his hands, hoping Connor understood.
He did. They rushed down toward the ground. Bastian knew Connor’s need to stop Jarrett was strong, if not stronger, than his own. Connor swooped over Jarrett, narrowly avoiding a fireball. It skimmed the edge of Bastian’s knee. His pants smoldered.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Bastian muttered through clenched teeth.
Connor reared back, a familiar popping noise coming from his throat.
“No!” Bastian tugged on Connor’s neck. “Tressa’s down there. Don’t!” He hoped Connor understood.
Connor roared. Bastian could feel the dragon’s frustration as its muscles tightened in torturous restraint.
“Take me down,” Bastian screamed, nudging Connor with his heels.
Connor dove toward the ground. Bastian jumped from his back, rolling across the ground on his shoulder. He popped to his feet, his sword at the ready. Heart pounding, sweat dripping down his forehead, Bastian waved Tressa away from Jarrett.
“No!” She shook her head, refusing the leave the maniac’s side.
Couldn’t she see how twisted her lover had become?
Bastian leapt toward Jarrett, his sword pointed at the man’s chest.
Jarrett’s eyes left the sky and trained on Bastian. He held out one hand, and Bastian felt a tightness grip his throat.
No. Not again. He couldn’t fight this magic. Not with a sword. Not with his brawn. He was useless. Bastian glanced at Tressa, her eyes widening in horror.
As the squeezing intensified, Bastian gasped for air. His hand lost its grip on his sword and it clattered to the ground, landing useless on the pebbled beach.
Bastian dropped to his knees. Still, he fought, moving ever closer to Jarrett. Muscles bulged in his thighs as he moved toward the man, not giving up. He’d already distracted Jarrett from shooting fireballs at the sky. Now Bastian had only one goal: kill the man.
Everything before him swam in a haze. He vaguely heard someone calling his name. A woman. It was a voice he knew. A voice he loved.
But another face haunted his mind. His daughter. Farah. Her ringlets dropping to her shoulders. The sweet smile that brightened his day. Her caring heart.
Farah was with Elinor. Another enemy. One far more dangerous to his daughter than the one in front of him. But Jarrett was dangerous to Tressa.
Another choice. Once, he’d chosen his daughter over his wife. Today, he chose both Farah and Tressa.
With the last of his strength, Bastian sprang off his knees, lunging toward Jarrett. His hand grabbed his sword, and with one mighty swing, Bastian ran the blade through Jarrett’s stomach.
He turned, looking at Tressa. Her hands covered her mouth. His eyelids closed, Farah’s face the only thing he could see.
Bastian’s neck snapped, his head lolling to the side.
Farah would be safe now. Safe forever.
***
Elinor lay on the ground, her legs twitching and her hand around her throat. Her breath choking, trapped.
“Hang on,” Hazel pleaded. “Farah, get one of the healers. Hurry!”
Hazel’s hand rested on Elinor’s forehead. But it would do no good. Elinor knew. Bastian was dying. So would she.
Elinor’s eyelashes fluttered in the damp air. Fog swirled around the edges of the village. It was beautiful in its simplicity. She would miss it. She’d had such high hopes for a life with Bastian.
No longer. He was gone. She could feel it. Elinor let out one last breath, following Bastian into death.
Chapter Forty-Five
“Bastian!” Tressa ran to the side of the man she’d loved most of her life, ta
king his limp body in her arms. “How could you?” she yelled at Jarrett. Her head suddenly felt clear, as if she’d awoken from a deep, dark nightmare.
The man before her wasn’t the man she’d loved. No, Jarrett was gone, replaced by a monster.
Jarrett stood, unsteady, with his hands on the hilt of the sword. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the sword out of his stomach and tossed it to the side. Blood gushed from the gaping hole. Jarrett placed one hand over the wound, and he lifted the other hand toward the sky, shooting more fireballs at the dragons. The flow of blood ebbed, and Jarrett dropped his hand from his gut. The wound had healed.
Tressa cradled Bastian’s body, struggling against the foul magic coming from Jarrett. Fire rained around her. The smell of burnt flesh, both human and dragon, permeated the air. She heaved to the side, her stomach unable to handle the destruction.
She wiped the back of her hand over her mouth and looked up at the sky. The Red realized they'd been ambushed. They were fighting back with everything they had, and were met by the Black and Green with equal fervor. For the first time in the war, the Red were outnumbered. The Green’s armor also allowed her allies to endure longer. Far fewer of the Black and Green fell from the sky. There was a chance Tressa's side would actually win.
And all she could do was stand on the ground and watch. Bastian was dead. Jarrett beyond her reach. And her dragon side wouldn’t make an appearance.
Her eyes were pulled back to Jarrett. His body contorted, jerking from side to side, while his arms waved in the air, sending up a barrage of flame toward the dragons. His scarlet eyes glanced at her as his lips curled into a smirk. "I will kill them all. Every dragon will die at my hands. Thank you for bringing them to me."
None of the dragons in the sky were paying any attention to where Jarrett's shots were fired. They were too busy fighting for their lives. He used the chaos to his advantage, taking down any dragon with a vulnerability.