Hunted (Book 2)

by Megg Jensen

  "Run!" Bastian yelled. "Get up the stairs as fast as you can!"

  "Why?" Marden whipped his head from side to side, looking over his shoulder.

  "Run for your lives!" Bastian's voice rasped as he screamed. He didn't dare glance behind him to see if his gamble paid off. He backed away, hiding in one of the niches in the back while the rest of the men scrambled up the stairs as fast as they could.

  A roar echoed in the chamber.

  A wave of heat rushed over Bastian as he cowered in the corner of a stall. Connor had unleashed his fire on the men. Bastian could only hope they'd gotten far enough up the stairs. Perhaps only their backsides were a bit singed. He'd saved their lives.

  But only one thing could save his own.

  Chapter Forty-One

  The dragon scrabbled around the dirt floor, screaming out in anger. Connor slammed his head into a wall near Bastian. Hard plaster shattered, raining sharp particles down on Bastian's hair. He shook his head and ran out of the stall to stand in front of Connor.

  He dropped his sword at his feet and raised his hands, all the while, chanting the same thing over and over in his head.

  Save me. Save me.

  Bastian gazed into the dark corridor behind Connor, but saw nothing. He waited, his heart thumping, as the dragon's lips parted in a smile identical to the one Connor had given him in the back room.

  The dragon's head tilted until his eye was looking at Bastian straight on. The brown surrounding the black slit pulsed with a menace and a hatred unlike any Bastian had ever seen from his friend. His friend. He had to remind himself, his friend was buried in there somewhere. A man who cared. Who would never hurt his best friend.

  But when he was a dragon, Connor the man fell to the wayside while his animal instincts took over. After seeing his eggs kidnapped, he'd snapped. He'd given in. Only one thing could pull him out of it. Bastian hoped his gamble would pay off.

  A light mewling echoed through the cavern. Bastian smiled and the dragon took pause. He looked over his shoulder, and saw Bastian's savior.

  Fotia toddled across the chamber, slipping on the loose rocks covering the ground. Her claws dug in, looking for purchase as her legs splayed sideways. Her stomach hit the ground with a little thud.

  The cobalt dragon gave Bastian one last glance, then craned his neck toward Fotia. Nudging her up with his snout, the dragon helped her stand.

  Bastian clapped his hands. "Fotia! Hey there, sweet thing."

  Fotia's head perked up. Her tongue lolled out the side of her mouth. She ran, coasting over the pebbles, to Bastian. He held out his arms to the little dragon he'd grown so fond of. She nuzzled her snout into Bastian's stomach.

  A loud puff reminded Bastian why he'd sought Fotia out. Why he'd guessed she was hiding in the egg. The broken shell was a stroke of genius. She could hide in plain sight, in a place Connor could watch her. It was the perfect hiding spot.

  The dragon was glaring at Bastian, his claws itching to tear Bastian apart.

  "Come back, Connor," Bastian pleaded. "I'm not here to hurt you. You know that. Change back to a human. Let's talk. Please." He ran a hand down Fotia's back while she snuggled into him.

  The dragon slithered across the ground, his head moving side to side. Like the predator he was, the dragon didn't take his eyes off his prey. He also didn't attack. Not with Fotia so close.

  He wouldn't risk hurting her.

  And Fotia was the only link Bastian had to Connor's humanity.

  "Take a deep breath," he urged the dragon. "Just don't blow out a wave of fire. I'm your best friend. You don't want to hurt me and deep down you know it."

  The dragon came closer. Every breath felt like an eternity. Bastian made a stand between life and death and the decision was no longer his. Connor could choose to swat Fotia out of the way. He could do away with Bastian. And if that was what he chose, Bastian would let Fotia go. He refused to put her in danger to save his own life.

  He had a daughter. Even though he wasn't the best father in the world, he loved her. He would never hurt another man's child.

  The dragon curled up, Connor’s tail wrapping around his body. His eyes closed. Muscles shuddered. The agonizing change began.

  Scaled cobalt legs transformed into pale legs covered in a swath of fine hair. Forearms dissolved, reshaping into Connor's muscular arms. Soon he resembled the man Bastian had known his whole life.

  Connor was naked and helpless. His head hung down, the anger gone.

  Bastian reached a hand to him, "Let me help you."

  Connor's hand shook as they locked palms. His lips parted and he mumbled something Bastian couldn't understand. Not afraid of his friend, Bastian leaned in closer, settled his ear near Connor's mouth. "Say it again."

  "Where were you? They took the eggs. They killed Elinor. They trapped me down here," Connor rasped. "I killed as many of them as I could to save the eggs. But their leader got away with them. He took them using magic." A tear slipped down his cheek. "Fotia is the only one left because she was hiding beneath the bed in that room."

  Bastian pulled his friend into an embrace. Connor's head lolled onto Bastian's shoulder, the weight of his body pushing Bastian backward. He planted his feet and bent his knees, bracing against his friend. He would support Connor until he could support himself.

  "I'm sorry." Bastian knew the words were thin. There was nothing he could do to erase what had happened while he'd been drowning his own sorrows between the breasts of a whore. "Elinor isn't dead, though. She's very much alive."

  Connor lifted his head, his eyes regaining a bit of their brightness. "Truly?"

  "Yes. She's being protected by a couple of the guards." Bastian glanced up the dark stairwell. "Did you hurt any of them?"

  Connor shook his head. "No, I don’t think so. They were too fast. Someone distracted them." He cracked a small smile. "I was only trying to protect Fotia. After last night, I didn't know who to trust."

  "If I could go back —"

  "You can't. We can only move forward." Connor straightened up, finally regaining his strength. He squatted down, opening his arms to Fotia. She ran into them. Connor sighed. "I cannot lose them, but I have no idea where they've gone. You, Elinor, and I need to leave." Connor stood. "Then we have to search for my children."

  Bastian raised an eyebrow. "Your children are here." He took the cautious path, not wanting to put words in Connor's mouth.

  "No. My other children. From before." His arms flailed around at the surroundings. "From the time that isn't so clear in my mind. If what you say is true, if I have two sons out there somewhere and they're in danger, I need to protect them too. The eggs have been taken from me. We have no idea where to start in locating them. While we search for traces of my human children, we will also search for the eggs."

  Bastian wanted to jump and pump his fist in the air, but he held back. Finally. Connor understood. He might not remember his family, but he knew why it was so important to look for their people.

  "What do we do about them?" Bastian pointed up at the ceiling of the cavern. "They want the throne back and the dragon's approval."

  "I feel like flying into the throne room and dumping a pile of dragon shit on them," Connor said. "They almost got themselves killed down here. It's a good thing you were smart enough to know what I was going to do."

  Bastian clapped his friend on the shoulder. "You really need to learn to control that fiery new side of yours. It's a little intense."

  "I know." Connor danced around the room with Fotia, naked as the day he was born and just as oblivious. "It's hard to keep a level head. If you hadn't done what you did...alerting Fotia…I don't know if you'd be standing here right now."

  "Fotia means more to you now than anything. I'm sorry I used her." Bastian sat down and tossed a rock from hand to hand.

  The little turquoise dragon pranced over to him. Bastian threw the rock. She scrambled to pick it up with her mouth, then brought it back, dropping it at his feet.

&n
bsp; "I understand why you did it. Even in my dragon form, I had some inkling that you were trying to protect us." Connor sat next to him. Fotia lay on the ground, her head on Connor's knees.

  "Will she be able to change to human form?" Bastian asked Connor. He looked at Fotia. His instincts told him to treat her like a small animal, but if there was the possibility that someday she'd be a little girl, twirling in a pretty dress, he didn't want to think she was nothing more than a puppy.

  Connor shrugged. "I don't know. If there are other dragons, maybe they can tell us how this works. Maybe they can help me remember everything I've forgotten. So we head for...where?"

  "I don't know," Bastian admitted. "We need to find a map. Ask Elinor where they might have gone."

  "How is she? I thought she was dead." Connor took a deep breath. "When we got back last night, the healers cornered the two of us. At first, I wasn't concerned. Elinor seemed to trust them. Then they separated us." His shoulders drooped. "I heard her screams. I thought she'd died."

  Bastian shook his head. "She's alive. Barely, but she is alive. She will need time to heal. Are you ready?"

  "As ready as I'll ever be," Connor said. "I'll meet you in the throne room."

  Bastian stretched his legs before heading to the stairs. "We can do this, you know."

  "I'm glad you think so, my friend. I'll be the first to admit I'm scared shitless. There's so much at stake."

  Bastian wanted to respond. To give words of comfort. He'd never been able to express himself at times like this. Instead, he did what always came naturally. Taking the stone steps three at a time, he bounded up to the throne room. Ready to face whatever lay ahead.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Bastian threw open the doors to the throne room. He searched the room for Elinor.

  "Where is she?" he asked, breezing past Barden just inside the entry.

  Barden ran behind him, his boots tapping out an uneven beat as he struggled to keep up. Elinor wasn't anywhere to be seen. Neither was the table she'd been stretched out on. The floor was cleaned of all the blood. Bastian spun around, grabbing Barden's shirt. "Where is she?"

  "She's resting," he stammered. "Aland got one of the healers to fix her up. Then they cleaned the place. A couple of them swore up and down they had nothing to do with the coup or the torture. That they'd been too afraid to stand up to their master."

  Bastian let go of Barden and rolled his eyes. When he'd first set foot in Ashoom he'd been amazed and humbled by the power displayed. So different than the simple life in Hutton’s Bridge. Many of them turned out to be weak fools. Followers. Even their leaders couldn't maintain power.

  Bastian ventured a glance at the throne. He'd been uneasy sitting there. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice. "Take me to Elinor. Then find Marden and tell him we need to talk."

  He had assumed Marden and his men would be in the throne room. Maybe they thought Bastian died down in the tunnels. By the look on Barden's face, he wouldn't be surprised.

  Barden waved at one of the healers. The thin man in the black robe scurried over to them. "He needs to see the girl. Take him," Barden said. The cloaked man dipped his chin and turned toward the doors. Even though Barden didn't intimidate Bastian, it appeared he did hold sway over the others.

  Bastian followed the man out of the room and through the labyrinth of hallways. Despite spending time in the castle, Bastian still hadn't delved very deep into it. He had no idea how many rooms lay hidden within the castle.

  The cloaked man came to a halt outside a set of doors. He knocked once. Another knock answered him and the door slowly creaked open. Bastian pushed further, ignoring the grunt from behind the door. Not his problem if someone was stupid enough to stand there.

  Elinor looked up from a bed across the room, her face clear of any blemishes. Bastian ran a hand over her face. "You're healed." His thumb lingered on her lower lip.

  "I am. The gift I gave you was given to me." She swept away from him, her fresh black gown trailing behind her. Elinor laid a hand on an old man sitting in a nearby chair. "This is Malin. He has given me his moon. For that, I am grateful."

  "Thank you," Bastian said, inclining his head in the man's direction. "Your gift won't go to waste."

  The old man held up a wrinkled, shaky hand. "It is the least I can do to repair the damage Malachi brought upon our order. He fooled us all. And you, his daughter."

  Elinor leaned over, bestowing a kiss on the old man's cheek. "My father will pay. I will see to it. He has overstepped his bounds. Your sacrifice will not go unappreciated." She swept her long blond curls to the side and squared her shoulders. "Bastian, we need to act now. We must find your people. If someone, or something, has taken them and plans to use them to hurt the other kingdoms, we must act."

  “Malachi took the eggs. Connor and Fotia are safe, but we cannot let him have the eggs,” Malin said.

  “He won’t hurt them.” Elinor sighed. “He knows how valuable they are. Until they hatch and come of age, he will not be able to manipulate them. Besides, we have no clues as to where he could have taken them. At least with your people there may be a trail we can follow.”

  Bastian felt terrible for the little dragons. When they hatched, that scraggly bearded man was the first face they would see. As a father, he couldn’t stomach the thought. Yet, his own daughter was still missing. Out there and, hopefully, very much alive. The eggs were still incubating. There was time. "Connor has also agreed to look for the people of Hutton’s Bridge. I had hoped you would join us too. If you’re feeling well enough."

  Elinor held up her index finger. "Just one condition."

  "Name it," Bastian said, willing to give her anything she asked. He owed her that and more.

  "You will not leave us at any point. We are a team, and we will stick together. If you have to drown your sorrows over a lost love, stay here. It is your choice. You have to make it now." She folded her arms across her chest. "I can handle myself, but not against an ambush. I need you by my side. Not as my protector, as my partner. Connor needs you, too."

  Bastian's chest ached. He'd let them both down. He didn't expect to be forgiven immediately. He sucked in his gut and stood up straighter. "I swear to you, I will not let you down again."

  Elinor's furrowed eyebrows relaxed. Her straight mouth curved into the bow he'd become so familiar with. She ran to Bastian and jumped into his arms, burrowing her head into his chest. "I know you will."

  "I'm so sorry for what they did to you while I was..." He didn't finish. He didn't want to say it, and he was sure she didn't want to hear it. She was smart. He was sure she knew exactly what he'd been doing.

  Elinor's hand rested on his forearm. She looked up at him. "I am a healer. I knew I wouldn't die at the hands of the men under my father’s control."

  "Then how did they find the eggs?" Bastian asked. "If you didn't tell them, who did?"

  Elinor's face fell. "It was Fotia. She'd come up from the dungeon looking for Connor. When they saw her, you should have seen their faces. They'd come looking for the cobalt dragon, for Connor, and they found a juvenile dragon. They quickly forgot me and followed her back underground, dragging Connor with them." Elinor shook her head. "I don't know how they found the eggs. I passed out not long after they left me. The pain was too much to bear. It wasn't until you and those other men came back that I realized I wasn't dead."

  Bastian's chest rose with a deep breath. "All of this chaos. For what? For a throne?" He wanted to ask her if there was any truth to Maester Malachi being her father. Maybe later.

  "No. There is more. There must be more we don't know," Elinor said.

  "There is," Malin said from his chair.

  Bastian looked at the man, forgetting he was there. When Elinor talked to him, it was easy to ignore everyone else.

  "Do you know something?" Bastian approached the old man slowly.

  Malin slumped over in his chair. His hands shook. "I gave her my moon. Likely my last. I may not make it through anothe
r." His phlegmy cough echoed in the small chamber. "There are secrets that healers take to the grave. I do not know if Maester Malachi told his acolytes the secret."

  "What secret?" Elinor sank to the man's feet. She took his liver -spotted hands in her lily-white palms. "I am just an initiate, but I promise to hold true to my vows."

  Malin looked up at Bastian. "I can only tell her. I cannot tell you. Nor will she be allowed to tell you. If she chooses to break her vows, she will lose much."

  Bastian glanced at Elinor and she nodded in response. "I'll meet you in the throne room soon?"

  "Yes." It was a simple answer, but it held great promise.

  They were a team again. He and Elinor. And Connor. They were all too vulnerable alone, but together they could achieve anything. Before he could even close the doors behind him, the whispers began. Malin’s voice cracked. Elinor gasped.

  Bastian fought the urge to run back in and demand to hear the secret himself. His hands curled into fists. He had to trust Elinor. If the secret made a different to their quest, she would do her best to help them. He had to believe in her.

  He had to start to trust again.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Steady rocking woke Tressa. She rubbed her eyes, confused. Her mind felt mushy. Blurry. Unfocused. A strange smell of salt and rot assaulted her nose. Her eyes watered.

  Tressa reached out with an unsteady arm, her fingertips drifting across rough wood.

  "Where am I?"

  She sat up. Her stomach lurched as the surface under her rocked back and forth. She grabbed onto ledges on either side of her, her eyes growing wide with horror as she realized where she was.

  Adrift in a small boat, just big enough to hold her prone body. Tressa swallowed the bile rising in her throat. Water lapped against the side of the boat, licking her fingertips with salty tongues.

  The sea stretched out in every direction, an unending flow of crests and wakes. Land was nowhere to be seen in the darkness.