by Megg Jensen
HUNTED
Megg Jensen
Cover art by Michael Gauss
http://gaussianeffect.blogspot.com/
Cover design by Steven Novak Illustration
http://www.novakillustration.com
Copyright © 2014 by 80 Pages, Inc
Published by 80 Pages, Inc
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used factitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form by or any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.
1st Edition: June 2014
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Chapter One
Udor watched in wonder, barely believing his eyes as the fog dissipated. "He did it," he said. Not to anyone in particular. The residents of Hutton's Bridge were as stunned as he. "That little bastard did it."
He would have put his hands on his hips, but those had disappeared in a mass of fat many years ago. He had been stuck in the fog, with a life of simple luxury and a wife who submitted to him. Children who had obeyed his every word. And when Sophia had died, he'd inherited the leadership of the town. He’d finally had everything he wanted.
Then those three had to go and destroy it. He'd tried to convince Tressa to stay behind. He'd wanted her body, yes, but more than that, he’d wanted to end the yearly trek into the fog. Odds were someone would eventually break through and ruin everything good in his cushy life as leader of Hutton’s Bridge.
That day had come.
Chaos erupted amongst the villagers. Udor ambled through the masses, ignoring their pleas for guidance. Now they'd all want to leave. Now he'd have to deal with outsiders. Now his life would be changed for good.
Udor slipped into his cottage and locked the door, not caring his wife and children were still out there somewhere. He needed to be alone. He had to figure out how he was going to deal with this unexpected situation. He rested his hands on his ample stomach and sighed.
When Bastian had come back to town, claiming the world outside existed and was waiting for them, Udor found himself wishing he were a younger man. He could have challenged Bastian. Instead he'd just let the boy take his best men into the fog, armed to the teeth.
And then this. They did it. The fog was gone.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. "Yes?" He couldn't ignore it. Enough people had seen him go into his cottage. And he was still their leader, whether he liked the situation or not.
"It's me, Adam. We're back. Everyone wants you to come out and speak."
Udor groaned, rising from the soft, plump chair. He straightened his shirt and rolled his eyes. "I'll be right out. Glad to hear you're back safely." And he was. Adam was their only skilled healer. Thankfully he'd come back to help his fellow villagers instead of taking off into the new world.
He flung the door open and strode out with a confident gait, though he had no idea what to tell them. He would let their expressions lead him. If there was one thing he'd learned over the years, it was to read the faces of his neighbors. It had helped him get his way many times. All he had to do was recognize their fears or desires and play upon them.
Except for that damned Sophia. He’d hated her arrogant behavior. As if being the last living witness to the day the fog fell meant something. It meant nothing. She knew nothing. The day she died had been the best day of his life.
Sophia had her final revenge, though. After Tressa had gone through the fog, the villagers had entered the cottage she’d shared with Sophia. The others in the village needed her resources. After the first day of rummaging through their things, the door no longer opened. For weeks, they tried. Eventually they'd given up. At least he’d found the book Sophia had kept hidden. The one that explained why their village had been doomed to be draped by fog.
Udor ascended the platform next to the rock where Sophia had lain not more than a moon ago. He wondered for a moment what she would have done in this situation. Probably encouraged everyone to run from town as fast as they could.
He looked out into the crowd. Women wrung their hands or snapped at their oblivious children. Men fidgeted with their farming implements, worried about the dead Adam's men were carrying back into town. "Where is Bastian?" Udor asked Adam.
"Taken by a group of soldiers. The rest are on their way here now."
Udor cursed under his breath. Why hadn't Adam mentioned that back at his cottage? Now he really had to think on his toes.
"My people," Udor said, raising his arms. "This is truly a joyous day. Our town has been liberated. The fog is gone. The world is ours to explore." He glanced at Adam out of the corner of his eye. Adam looked nervous, shifting from one foot to another. "But there are soldiers on their way to Hutton's Bridge. They may mean us harm. We must take up arms and prepare to fight."
The murmurs in the crowd turned to fear and anger.
"We don't know how to fight! And some of our men were killed in that forest." Hazel pointed to the place where Adam's men were dragging the dead back to the village. Her eyes darted over the bodies, probably wishing one was her dead husband, Connor.
Udor shuddered. For years they'd given their dead to the fog on the other side of the village. Now that the fog was gone, what awaited them? A heap of decayed bodies and bones? He didn't want to be the one to find out.
Adam stood next to Udor. "There were beasts out there, but we killed them under Bastian's direction. The people coming now are just men. Like me. Like you.” He pointed to a cobbler in the crowd. “We can talk to them. Reason with them. Fight only if we have to.”
Udor wanted to nudge the redheaded physic away with his elbow. But the people were listening and nodding their heads. Adam’s story held their ears, and because of his profession he held their hearts. Udor was impressed. Adam had never taken on any mantle of leadership in the past, but today he had the people of Hutton’s Bridge in his hands.
"So put down your swords,” Adam said. “Let's meet them with kind words and friendship first."
Everyone cheered at Adam's suggestion.
Udor held a snort inside. If these soldiers had taken Bastian, it was likely they had similar plans for the residents of Hutton's Bridge. He looked around, trying to think of a way to gain back their favor and restore common sense. Anything to wrest control away from Adam.
"Does anyone here remember me?" a voice called from the back of the crowd. All eyes swung to a man and a woman.
Udor's jaw dropped. It couldn't be.
"Jayne?" Adam stuttered. "Jayne, is that you?" He pushed his way through the crowd, running toward a woman who resembled his sister, gone long ago into the fog.
Udor knew the man next to her. Fenn. Tressa's father, Sophia’s grandson. Both of them had entered the fog years ago. They were alive? How many others were out there? Had they all survived? He suddenly felt very sick to his stomach.
"We've come to help," Fenn said as Jayne fell into her brother's arms. "We have friends who can save you. The soldiers headed this way aren't kind. They are coming to destroy you."
"I don't understand," Adam stammered. “Why—”
Udor wanted to say something, but he was too stunned. He felt completely out of control. Damn those three for do
ing this to him. He liked life the way it was.
"The men coming from the east are going to kill you. I know because they tried to kill us too, but we escaped." Fenn walked amongst the people, his old friends. Even Udor had liked Fenn before he'd disappeared into the fog. He'd always felt they were kindred spirits. "Turn your eyes to the sky. Your saviors are coming."
Udor, along with all of the townspeople of Hutton's Bridge, looked up. He stumbled backward, overcome by the sight of dozens of red dragons flying toward them. His hands shook and his bowels turned to water. "No. No more dragons."
"It's okay, old friend." Fenn placed a hand on his arm. "They'll fly you away to somewhere safe. I promise."
Udor nodded, staring into Fenn’s mesmerizing eyes. "Yes," he said, nodding. "We will go with you to your land of safety."
Udor felt the power coming back to him as the eyes of his people turned to him for comfort and leadership. "Don't be afraid. Fenn is an old friend. Many of you remember him as I do. We can trust him."
Udor swallowed the bile rising in his throat. It was the right decision...he hoped.
Chapter Two
The wind raced through Tressa’s hair, tangling it with airy fingers. She tossed a smile to Jarrett, who rode a black horse next to her. “I love riding!”
“Better not smile too wide. You’ll get bugs in your teeth.” He laughed, his mouth open, followed by a quick cough and a slight gag. He spit to the side. “Damn bugs.”
Adrenaline pumped through Tressa. She’d been afraid the first time she’d seen the horse, worried it would trample her bones under its hooves. Riding it was beyond anything she’d expected. If she closed her eyes, even for a moment, she had the sensation of flying. Then Jarrett would yell at her to open her eyes again.
He was too worried about her. Her instincts told her the horse wouldn’t put itself in danger and she wanted to enjoy the ride. Once they arrived in Hutton’s Bridge, she wouldn’t have the luxury of a smile. There was little time to find a safe haven for her people before the other dragonlords investigated – if they hadn’t already. She knew soldiers from Ashoom, where the blue dragons reigned, had to be close, if they hadn't found it already. She’d lived in the town for a long time without even knowing its proper name. Jarrett explained that everyone outside the Drowned Country called Ashoom by its proper name.
“Tell me again about your village,” Jarrett said through gritted teeth.
“There are only a couple hundred people. I don’t know for sure now. Since I left there was a plague and Bastian said many died in the battle to escape the fog.”
“And the honey. Where do they keep the honey?” Jarrett had asked the same question over and over again.
Tressa always gave the same answer. “In the apiary. It’s on the northwest side of the village near the fog. Well, where the fog used to be.”
She still had trouble believing the fog was gone. It had been an indelible part of her life. She couldn’t imagine Hutton’s Bridge without it. Bastian had explained it to her as best he could, through his injuries and the pain. He wanted to help, even if he couldn’t ride out with them. Tressa’s mind boggled at the thought of three magicians, bonded to trees, using their magic to keep the village surrounded by fog.
Months ago, she would have dismissed all of it as fairy tale. Now she’d seen too much. Anything was believable.
“Whoa,” Tressa said, pulling on the horse’s reins. The forest thickened up ahead. Trees grew together, tangled in knots, except for one spot where the branches were broken and sundered.
She pointed. “That’s where Bastian hacked through the forest. Where we met Stacia’s army. They were waiting for us.”
“Stacia was with them?” Jarrett asked.
Tressa nodded at the man who had introduced her to a world of dragons, and fought to save her life from Stacia, the Queen of the Blue. “Yes. The Black Guard too. They said they were waiting for us. I’m not certain how they knew we’d be there.”
“I’m sure Stacia has scouts waiting with messenger birds. As you know, it doesn’t take long to get her soldiers out here.”
Tressa’s eyes swept over the forest, searching for any sign of life, friendly or otherwise. Bastian said he and the villagers had killed the beasts. Still, the memory of being hunted in the fog left Tressa’s hands trembling.
Bastian had described the beasts. Their great height and massive bodies. Claws wide as tree branches. Blind, but able to mock their very words, drawing innocent people to their deaths. A cruel joke on the victim.
The haunted look in Bastian’s eyes had told Tressa more than his words could. He was afraid of nothing. When they were first imprisoned in the forest, he fought bravely to set them free. Even when Connor was killed in front of him, Bastian remained strong. But when he talked of the beasts in the forest, his eyes filled with pain.
“We should head in,” Jarrett said. “We don’t want to waste any time.” He leaned over and rested his hand on hers. “Are you okay?”
It wasn’t until he touched her that she realized she was choking the pommel. “Yes.” She released her grasp, letting the blood flow back into her palm.
Jarrett’s hand lingered a moment longer than necessary. Tressa looked up at him. “I’m okay. Really.”
“Then let’s ride ahead. The sooner we get to Hutton’s Bridge, the sooner we can help the villagers.”
They entered the forest cautiously. The horses couldn’t gallop now that the road was behind them, for fear of twisting a knee.
For eighty years the forest grew upon itself. Broken branches littered the ground. Ivy snaked around the bark, tying the entire forest together in a bizarre organism pulsing with a stuttering, wounded heart.
Though she could see bugs and leaves and hanging moss, Tressa didn’t feel any safer than she had the last time she traversed the forest with Bastian and Connor. Now she witnessed the twisted destruction of what once was, according to her departed Granna, a beautiful forest teeming with life. Butterflies fluttering in the breeze. Deer snacking on the grass. Tiny squirrels chattering to each other.
Granna had made it seem a wonderland.
No longer. The fog hadn’t just stopped the children in Hutton’s Bridge from leaving. It had wounded the forest’s life force.
Jarrett whistled a tune under his breath. Not an upbeat ditty to distract them, but a low, keening melody.
“What is that?” Tressa asked him.
“An old song from my homeland. A lay.”
“Lay?” Tressa’s horse stepped carefully over a fallen tree trunk.
“A poem meant to be sung. I would sing,” a wry smile graced his face, “but you don’t want that. Trust me.”
He continued whistling; Tressa listened intently. The notes soared over them, bouncing across the damaged forest. After the last note, Tressa asked, “What is it about?”
“It’s the funeral lay, only sung in the Sands. We sing it to honor the dead. To remind us about life after the body dies.”
“You believe in that?” Tressa asked him. “An afterlife?”
Jarrett’s eyes widened. “You don’t?”
“Until recently I didn’t even believe in life beyond the fog.” Tressa shrugged. Granna told her in the old days that their people worshipped the Holy Ones. After the fog fell, the children who were left behind prayed every day to them, seeking help. None came. Granna said eventually they gave up. Why worship a deity that didn’t intervene? Some of the children had been afraid of repercussions, but when none came, they all gave up on the Holy Ones. All that remained was cursing in their name. “Anyway, it’s beautiful.”
“It felt appropriate,” he said.
They rode on in silence. It seemed the proper response to the death lurking in the forest. Until the trees began to thin. Tressa strained to hear activity from the village. The sound of a woman singing while she worked in the fields. Or a cow lowing. Even the sound of the smithy, metal clanging on metal.
There was nothing but silence.
Jarrett looked around. “Where are the people of your town?”
Tressa slipped off the horse and walked to the village hall.
Empty.
The town square.
Empty.
House after house.
Empty.
She spun around, surprised to find Jarrett behind her. For a moment she’d forgotten him. Panic bubbled in her throat.
“They’re gone. All of them.”
Chapter Three
“Before you ask me where they could have gone,” Tressa said, holding up her hand, “I don’t have an answer. I’m just as stumped as you.”
Jarrett’s eyes swept the village. “Bastian said some of the villagers wanted to leave before he took the army into the fog. Maybe when the fog dropped, they took the opportunity.”
“No.” Tressa folded her arms across her chest. “Not everyone. I know at least one person who would never leave.” Without waiting for Jarrett, she marched across the village to the town hall. The biggest residence in Hutton’s Bridge, that of the head of the council, Udor.
She shuddered just thinking of the man who had tried to convince her to be a second wife to him. He’d promised protection. In exchange she’d have to whore herself out to him. Tressa had chosen almost certain death in the fog rather than give into his lecherous advances.
She pushed open the door to his cottage. “Udor?” She strode into the main room, expecting to see him lounging on a cushy chair, smoking a weed that made his attitude even more intolerable.
He wasn’t there. The chair was empty. Books sat on the shelf. Toys were scattered on the floor. Usually his home smelled of ham and stewed vegetables, but nothing permeated the air. Not even a stale whiff.
“I don’t understand.” She sank into Udor’s chair. Tressa pressed her nose into the fabric. Nothing. “It’s as if no one has been here in years.”
