“Thank you!” He squeezed Carrac’s shoulder. “You are staying behind with Udor? Making sure he doesn’t mess things up for the town when we collapse the mist?”
Carrac nodded. “I have been considering this as well.” He looked down at his aged, frail body. “What can I do out there? If the beasts you spoke of are true, I am no match for them. All I could do is stand in front and be a victim, maybe stop them from hurting another. Slow down their progress.”
“I’m not asking for blind sacrifice.” Bastian looked at the old man’s rheumy blue eyes. After Sophia died, he was the oldest person in the village. His opinion mattered. His experience and his kindness were invaluable. “Stay here. No one will interpret it as weakness. In fact, I’d consider it a personal favor. If Tressa makes it back to the village, I don’t want her alone with Udor.”
Carrac laughed, his bony shoulders shaking. “I think Tressa can handle herself with Udor, but I appreciate the sentiment.” He looked over Bastian’s ragtag army to the village beyond. “Yes, this is my home. I’m too old for a new journey. I will stay.” His eyes met Bastian’s again. “I hope to see you again.”
“I hope for the same, Carrac.” Hutton’s Bridge held nothing for him now. A new life awaited him and his daughter beyond the forest. He’d be back for her as soon as he destroyed the barrier, never to return.
Bastian turned to the townspeople.
“Today we leave Hutton’s Bridge. When I left not more than a few months ago, I never expected to survive, much less come back. When this is all done, you have a choice. Leave and find a new life in parts unexplored, or come home and help revive Hutton’s Bridge.”
Bastian looked toward the village hall. “Those of you who have volunteered to stay here with the sick and the children will follow Udor’s command.” He hated giving Udor that power, but someone had to lead them. He was the obvious choice.
“For those of you who’ve chosen to fight, if you choose to return, life will not be the same. Many of the protections put in place will no longer apply. The yearly group forced into the fog. The ribbon choosing. The lack of weapons and training to use them. Hutton’s Bridge will be born anew.”
No one responded. Not a cheer of excitement, nor murmurs of dissension. The silence frightened him most. If there was no fervor, not one way or the other, Bastian couldn’t be sure he’d succeed. He needed commitment from them. Not resignation.
“Then let’s march!” Bastian waved his sword in the air. He spun toward the fog and marched off. The sound of reluctant shuffles followed behind him. Bastian’s heart thudded in his chest. He knew what hid on the other side of the fog.
Anger grew inside him. How could they be so dispassionate? They knew he was the only one who ever returned. Fear, trepidation, anything would be better than their lack of caring. But this was pathetic. His hands formed fists, but he held them firmly at his side. Taking his anger out on them wouldn’t help. If they didn’t believe it for themselves, he couldn’t force them to.
The fog reached out, caressing Bastian like an old lover tempting him back into a destructive relationship. Tendrils swirled around his ankles, leaving russet droplets on his brown boots. A reminder of what was and an invitation of what was to come.
He could delay no longer. Bastian took a deep breath and stepped into the fog.
Within moments, his vision left him. The familiar darkness overcame his senses. “Don’t be alarmed,” he called behind him as gasps from his fellow townspeople drifted to him on the light breeze.
The silence of the dead forest combined with the blindness. A familiar disorientation settled over Bastian. Even though it was his third time through, he still felt his stomach turn. Maybe because he knew what was out there, hiding, waiting to devour him.
Long moments passed, enveloped in the damp curtain of fog. Bastian put one foot in front of another, traveling in a straight line toward the end of the fog. Maybe they’d make it through without running into the beast. If killing Vinya was its last act, maybe she’d bought freedom for all of Hutton’s Bridge.
“Bastian.”
So it wasn’t dead. It sounded like Tressa, but it was only a poor imitation.
Bastian’s lip curled. Did the beast really think the same trick would work on him twice? Maybe that was the only trick it had. At least he was prepared this time.
“Bastian.” It came from his left.
“Bastian.” From his right.
“Bastian.” A screechy chorus of death surrounded him, followed by a cacophony of names.
“Draw your arms!” He yelled to his men. “Don’t listen. It’ll try to trick you. Make you think you’re hearing a loved one. You’re not.”
A fury of howls ripped through the mist.
Them. More than one beast. From the sound of it, they were surrounded.
CHAPTER FIFTY
“Now,” Bastian yelled. Light from Carrac’s dragon candles blasted through the fog. Twenty beasts stood in a semi-circle in front of the ragtag army.
Their fangs bared, dripping with blood and spittle, the beasts towered over them, twice as tall as the humans, bodies covered in bristled hair, claws longer than Bastian’s sword.
Bastian’s legs trembled. His stomach rebelled. But he held his ground, not showing the monsters his fear. Instead he gazed on them with darkened eyes and a fire burning in his soul.
“Bastian.”
The voice came from the beast in the center, its lips moving, mocking Tressa’s voice. Snarling, its jaw dropped, releasing hideous laughter.
“Attack!” Bastian broke free of the safety of his group and lunged for the beast in the middle. His sword swung in the air, dropping in a deadly arc toward the beast’s belly. Roars enveloped him, masking every other sound in the forest. The cries of his people fell away. It was only him and the beasts.
He hacked and slashed, using every ounce of his strength until his muscles shrieked for respite. Fur flew in the air, followed by flesh. The light gray fog quickly changed to maroon, oozing with the blood of the beasts. Or of his companions. Bastian wouldn’t turn away from the battle to see.
A wooly, muscled arm flung out at Bastian, knocking him down to the ground, taking all of his breath in one fell swoop. His sword slipped, just beyond his reach. Bastian shook his head, forcing clarity to return.
Through the mist, he saw a pike sticking out from the chest of one of the beasts, one of Bastian’s men hung from the shaft, his legs dangling in the air. Still he didn’t give up, Tom thrusted with all of his strength, desperately attempting to drive the spear deeper into the beast’s chest. The beast howled, sending chills down Bastian’s spine.
He pushed himself up to sitting, but his head still swam from the impact. The battle raged on around him. His men and women stepped up to the challenge, fighting the beasts with a passion and bloodlust Bastian didn’t know they had possessed. Simple life in Hutton’s Bridge hadn’t dulled their instincts after all.
Chips of oak flew through the air as their hastily made shields splintered upon impact. The might behind the beasts’ arms arcing through the air were no match for their shields. Still, it bought time and the people of Hutton’s Bridge needed every second they could muster.
Another wave of men came running through the fog, leaping toward the beasts. They hacked at their ankles, bringing beast after beast down to its knees. One beast lifted an arm, his paws bearing three of Bastian’s men impaled on its claws. He popped all three in his mouth, filling the forest with the sound of crunching bones.
Men and women fell to the ground, landing in puddles of blood. The beasts were winning. Not one of them was felled yet.
Bastian heaved himself to his feet, reached down for his sword, and took off running. It was time to give the advantage to his people. He zigged and zagged through the battle, jumping over fallen friends without a second glance. At the feet of a beast, he speared it in the calf, then hoisted himself up and over its knee. His fingers knotted into the beast’s fur, he pulled the sword
out of its calf and stuck it in the beast’s hip, pulling himself up again.
The beast swatted at him, but Bastian used its own momentum against it. Like a fly, he hopped around, never letting the lumbering beast touch him. It was used to fighting slowly in darkness, but Bastian had the advantage of light this time. He was quicker and more agile. Time to prove to the townspeople that the beast could be defeated.
Bastian pulled his sword out of the beast’s hip. With one final thrust, he slid the sword into the beast’s heart.
It cried out and stumbled to the side. Bastian pulled on his sword, then stuck the beast again in the same spot, giving the hilt a twist. Blood spurted out of its mouth, raining down on the assailants.
Bastian couldn’t help but smile. He held on tight as the beast fell to the ground. Bastian climbed on top of its head. “They can be killed!” he yelled, shaking his sword.
The townspeople rallied, their arms swinging faster, thrusting harder, emboldened by the victory.
One after another, the beasts fell, until only Bastian’s army remained standing. Not without significant loss of life to the residents of Hutton’s Bridge. Bastian walked among the dead, speaking their names aloud and committing them to memory. He’d brought them there and if he couldn’t bring them home alive, he’d at least remember them.
“Now what, sir?” Garrick, one of the younger men of the community who shadowed him asked, “Are we free?”
“The fog still stands. We have one more foe left to defeat.”
“It can’t be worse than those.” Garrick pointed at the dead beasts with his sword.
“I don’t know,” Bastian said. “We’re about to find out.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
“Let’s move.” Bastian wiped the blood off his blade with a large leaf.
“Where to now?” asked Tom. Blood was smeared across his face, erasing the smile he’d always projected. Battle changed him. It would change them all.
“If we keep moving ahead, we’ll make our way out of here in no time.” Bastian pointed ahead into the mist. He motioned to one of the candle bearers to come forward.
As the boy walked, the light bounced off the mist and tree branches, giving the forest a more frightening appearance. Beasts had lurked in a those shadows, drawing villagers from Hutton’s Bridge to their deaths for many years. No longer.
“Walk with me,” he told the boy. “We have no reason to hide any longer.”
The boy nodded nervously. Still he kept pace with Bastian. Their feet trudged through the damp undergrowth. Bastian’s breeches were soaked to mid-calf and clung to his legs like a snake to a vine.
The dragon candles still shone in the mist, illuminating the landscape Bastian had only felt until that day. Trees of all kinds, birch, oak, and maple, reached up toward the sky. Lichens meandered up and around trees, crawling from branch to branch, connecting the trees to each other in an intricate dance of life. Centipedes scurried, their legs scuttling faster than a hummingbird’s wings in flight.
The mist clung to everything, a shawl enveloping the forest in its protective embrace. At least this time Bastian could see it all instead of worrying his deepest fears lurked in its depths. He knew its secrets intimately. He’d defeated the beast. The woman in the trees, and her two companions on the other edges of the forest, only seemed to care if something, or someone, was entering the forest. He finally felt he had been given a blessing to leave.
Adam nudged Bastian with his elbow as he slipped up next to him. “All the wounded have been cared for or taken back to the village. There are about fifty of us left for the next battle.”
The woman in the tree. She was Bastian’s next target. It would be tricky. The upper branches of the tree wouldn’t hold the weight of all of his warriors. He needed the strongest and the most clever. The ones who could think quickly and act accordingly.
It would be impossible to sneak up on her. Climbing the trees would take a few minutes and it was unlikely they could do it quietly enough to surprise her. If noise even mattered. Her body was tied to the tree in some magical fashion. It was likely she knew their every move on the way up. The rest of the men would remain on the ground, to catch them if they fell like Bastian did the first time, or climb up and attack if their comrades fell.
“Those numbers are good. More than I expected,” Bastian said.
Adam raised an eyebrow. “You fought well today. So did the others, considering their lack of experience.”
“You think we were lucky.” It wasn’t a question. They both knew it.
Adam nodded. He looked back at the candle bearer. The boy made no indication he was listening to them. “The beasts were frightened and disoriented by the light. It weakened them.”
“Their advantage lay in the darkness of the mist, I know.” Bastian shuddered as he remembered the trouble they had caused him. Of the lives lost.
“And in their size.”
Bastian laughed. “In some ways that worked against them too.” He looked up at the trees, knowing they were getting ever closer to the edge of the forest and their next target. His words dried up, sober.
“What do we need to know about her?” Adam asked. He switched his pack of medical supplies from one shoulder to the other. Bastian noticed it wasn’t as full as when they left Hutton’s Bridge.
“She has great magic, for one. Beyond that, I do not know. Her heart appears to be fed by the tree sap. Or maybe she gives life to the tree. I wish I knew more about how her magic worked before we climbed up. Sophia’s book didn’t tell me much.”
“We’re just lucky Carrac discovered the power of dragon tallow.” Adam pointed at the lantern. “Without it, I’m not sure we would have beaten the beasts.”
Bastian nodded. “There is so much we don’t know. I saw things beyond the forest that I don’t understand. Children there know more than we do.”
“We’ll learn soon enough. I, for one, cannot wait.” Adam rubbed his hands in anticipation. “Finding new medicines to save lives. New procedures. I have to believe they’re farther advanced than I am.”
“They are.” Bastian remembered the doctor who’d claimed he could save Connor before he’d been stolen from the infirmary. “I have a feeling you’ll have more to learn than you can in your lifetime.”
“That’s fine with me. I’ve been ready to leave Hutton’s Bridge for years.”
“Then why didn’t you ever volunteer to go into the fog?” Bastian asked. His uncle hadn’t ever shown interest in leaving before.
Adam sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I promised Sophia I’d stick around and keep an eye on you and Tressa. She implied there was something special about the two of you.” He rolled his eyes. “Just an old woman’s rantings, but I didn’t want to worry her. I wanted to leave, but it didn’t mean I was willing to commit suicide in the fog. When you came back, it was nothing short of a miracle.”
Bastian hung his head. He’d brushed death too many times over the last few months. He didn’t believe in miracles, especially after seeing his mother and Tressa’s father living in a hidden settlement in the forest. He wasn’t special. He was persistent.
“I wouldn’t have followed anyone into the fog,” Adam said. “Though it never occurred to me to follow my nephew. I should have gone with you the first time you left. I never should have let Connor go. He had a wife he loved. Children. No one would have missed me.”
“Hutton’s Bridge needs your healing knowledge. Without it, they’d all be dead from plague.” Bastian stopped abruptly. He reached out and grabbed the shirt of the candle bearer in front of him, pulling him backward. The fog was dissipating quickly. They’d reached the end.
But there was one more battle ahead.
He nodded his head toward the tree, one finger over his lips, then he pointed up.
Adam motioned for silence to the men behind them. The forest was still, their chests, alive with breath, the only movement.
Bastian checked his sword. It was secure in the
scabbard. He reached up, hoisting himself into the lower branches of the tree. The branches he’d broken in his fall the last time through were still hanging askew. Still, he climbed, knowing she was up there somewhere.
He emerged above the fog, face to face with the woman in the tree. He reached out, touching her hand. As hard as bark, and as fragile. With the slightest snap he could break off her fingers. He took care to use a light touch. If Sophia’s book spoke true, the woman was as trapped as the rest of them. A slave to the magic she’d wrought eighty years ago.
The last time he’d been there, she hadn’t paid him any attention before the bird flew into view. It was a threat to the village. All he needed was to create a danger to rouse her from her slumber. Bastian whistled a signal to Adam.
A bird flew upward, released from a bag Adam had carried with him. Bastian hated sacrificing the colorful warbler. Short of attacking the woman, he didn’t know of another way to get her attention.
The bird flew up to Bastian, flitted around the branches, and rose higher up the above. The woman’s eyes snapped open, focused on the bird. Her hand lifted. Green blood pumped through her veins, preparing to fire her magic.
“Wait!” Bastian pleaded. “Don’t hurt it.”
Her gaze left the bird and burned into Bastian. “You again. You are dead.” Her green lips whispered like spring leaves.
“I need to talk to you. I’m from Hutton’s Bridge.”
Her hand drifted down to her side. “You must go back. Stay hidden.”
“No.” He argued as gently as he could. “It’s time for us to leave. It’s time for the fog to fall.”
She stared over his shoulder at the fog. “I tried to protect you from the dragon.” The green blood pumped harder, her veins bulging and popping.
“It landed in the village, where it quickly died.” He hoped reassuring her would calm the anger.
“I have failed.”
Gods & Dragons: 8 Fantasy Novels Page 84
