Desolation (Dragonlands Book 4)

by Megg Jensen

  Fi rested a hand on Tressa's shoulder. "I've had many opportunities to die since I met you. So far, death has proved elusive. I don't plan on letting it catch me there, either."

  "I obviously can't command you to stay, Fi. Would it be okay if I spoke to Donovan before the two of you take off into the unknown?" Tressa didn't pretend for one moment that she actually ruled the Red. She considered herself its steward until someone more suitable came along. Much like Bastian, when he was given the Blue by default, she eschewed any interest in becoming royalty.

  "He actually wanted to talk to you, too, Tressa. In fact," Fi pointed with a thumb over her shoulder, "he's waiting outside the door."

  "Then send him in, please. I have to meet the man who is threatening to take my sister away from me." Tressa smiled at Fi. They weren't sisters by blood, but Mestifito was Fi's great-uncle and he was bonded to Tressa's great-grandmother. Neither woman had a sister, so they'd decided to take on the label as a sign of mutual affection.

  Fi opened the door and waved a hand in the hallway. Donovan swept into the room, taking command of the large space despite his small stature. Shrouded in a gray cloak, he glanced around the room with his one eye. As he came closer Tressa could see the lids of his left eye were sewed closed and slashed through with a scar.

  "Hello," Tressa said, holding out a hand.

  Donovan took it firmly, then bowed and kissed it. "My lady."

  Tressa laughed nervously. She hadn't expected that. "I'm not a lady. I'm just a commoner from Hutton's Bridge."

  "All women are ladies. Just because you are a lady doesn't mean you can't kick arse. I have heard you are a great warrior, too."

  Tressa smiled, despite her trepidation. She liked Donovan's point of view. "I wouldn't call myself a lady or a warrior. Just a woman who does what she needs to do to protect the ones she loves."

  "There is no greater calling," Donovan said. "It is why I want to take Fi with me into Desolation. The Dragonlands are facing a great enemy. Without the tools to fight it, they will fail."

  "How much do you know?" Tressa asked, curious.

  "Everything. I know about Decarian and his minions. The lack of honey. But they won't be trapped for much longer if we don't act."

  "If you've known about this, why didn't you help sooner? Where have you been hiding?" Tressa needed to know. He was keeping something from her, and she was exhausted from ferreting out others' secrets.

  "I am from the Vulture's Tower," he said plainly.

  "I have seen it on old maps," Tressa said, "but it no longer exists. The Vulture's Tower was not far away from Hutton's Bridge. I have flown that expanse of land many times, and yet I don't see so much as a pebble out of place. How could you have come from there?"

  Fi's expression didn't give anything away. Tressa wondered how much her friend knew and hadn't told her. She looked back at Donovan. Perhaps it was his story to tell.

  "The Tower only appears in times of need. The Dragonlands are in great peril now. That is why I am here." Donovan pointed to the great windows at the top of the throne room. "Once, we protected this throne room from the beasts of Desolation. Today, we gather again to protect the Dragonlands."

  "If you're from Desolation, why are you so intent on protecting us?" Tressa asked.

  "A thousand years ago, a group of us chose to come to the Dragonlands. We took on human form and assimilated with your people. We built the Vulture's Tower, but the dragons insisted on controlling us. They wouldn't listen to our pleas for peace. So we retreated, taking our tower into the mist until we were needed again."

  "He's here to help us, Tressa." Fi said, speaking firmly.

  Tressa scrutinized Fi. "How do I know he doesn't have you under thrall, like Jarrett had me?"

  "No offense," Fi said, holding up her hands. "I'm not exactly acting like you did when Jarrett was controlling you."

  Tressa remembered her desperation, her recklessness. She had put lives in danger. Bastian had died. In contrast, Fi stood with one hip jutted out to the side and her arms crossed over her chest. She had her usual wry look on her face, as if she were only a moment away from teasing someone. Fi was levelheaded. She was making sense.

  "Okay, I'm sorry. I just had to ask," Tressa said.

  Donovan dipped his chin. "It is fine. It shows you care. And I pledge to you, I will fight for the Dragonlands. I will do my best to secure their safety."

  "Even if it means going against your own people?" Tressa gazed into his eyes, looking for any hint of betrayal.

  He gave none. "Yes. I will fight to maintain a peaceful life for your people."

  Fi snorted and Tressa tossed her a nasty look. Fi shrugged, a smirk on her face. "Things haven't exactly been peaceful here lately."

  "That is why I came to you," Donovan said. "Not because of the dragon war, but because what losing it meant. You think you have faced darkness in the skirmishes you fought? You have seen nothing. What awaits you below is beyond your worst nightmares. If they cannot be contained, then I need to step in and prevent it."

  "Why didn't you come back when the fog enclosed Hutton's Bridge?" Tressa asked. "If honey was the key to keeping the beasts at bay, you should have helped eighty years ago."

  Donovan shook his head. "No, there was still honey to be had. It is not my job to solve your problems, only to assist in your greatest time of need. And that time has come. Decarian is only the beginning."

  Tressa shuddered, thinking of the beast in the depths below. What sort of army stood behind him, thirsting for dragon blood?

  Chapter Three

  Muscles tense, Connor glided through the fog, still not trusting the guardians in the trees to let him pass. Bastian had told him about the damage they'd done to another dragon that tried to cross into Hutton's Bridge. She'd died in the village square, despite their feeble efforts to help her. Not that they had known how. Before that moment, they hadn’t even believed dragons existed. He, Tressa, and Bastian hadn't left their village yet. They hadn't known about the world beyond. He and Tressa had still been fully human, and Bastian, well—his friend had still been alive.

  After landing in the village square, Connor changed into human form. Before he could catch his breath, Hazel, the wife he couldn’t remember, came running from the village hall.

  "You're back. I'm so glad you're here." She threw herself against his chest, her arms around his neck.

  Connor tentatively wrapped his arms around her. He hadn't touched Hazel since he'd been turned into a dragon. He no longer loved her the way she loved him, and he wasn’t sure he ever could. He didn’t want to encourage her. She'd only be hurt in the end.

  As if she could read his thoughts, Hazel abruptly stiffened and backed away. "Where's Bastian?" she asked, wringing her hands.

  "He didn't make it," Connor said heavily. "By now he's been buried at sea with the other dead from the battle. I need to tell his daughter."

  "Elinor is gone, too." Hazel slipped her hand into Connor's. "She suffered some kind of seizure. By the time the healers made it to her, it was too late. Perhaps it was fate that they died at the same time."

  Or dark magic. Bastian had confided in Connor about Elinor's so-called gift—how they were connected and as long as one lived, the other would heal. Connor knew why his friend had sacrificed himself in an attempt to kill Jarrett. Bastian had believed he was taking out both Jarrett and Elinor at the same time, saving his friends and his daughter from their evil influence. Except Jarrett still lived.

  A tug on his hand brought him back to Hutton's Bridge.

  "I'll go with you to tell Farah," Hazel said. "If that's okay?"

  "Of course. Thank you." Connor squeezed her hand. He wasn't sure what had led him to make the gesture. Hazel looked up at him, her green eyes expectant. She held onto his hand as if she were its guardian. Connor didn't argue, but he wouldn't let it happen again. He refused to hurt her more than he already had.

  "She's over there." Hazel pointed to a grassy area.

  Childr
en ran together, playing a spirited game with a ball. A shrill hoot cut through the quiet air. Connor squinted. On the far side of the throng of running kids were his two dragons, Fotia and Vatra. One of the children touched Fotia's wing. She burst into the melee, hooting and hollering with the kids. His heart warmed seeing his dragons so readily accepted by the human children. He wondered if he would have been so brave as a child.

  "They're all getting along so well," Hazel said. Her brown hair hung to her shoulders in light waves. "I have to remind the children that Fotia and Vatra will one day be able to turn into humans. Sometimes they treat the dragons more like pets than a friend. I think it's important they understand the dragons really aren't so different." Hazel looked up at Connor.

  He knew what she was trying to say. Bastian had told him how much Hazel wanted her husband back, despite the dragon lurking inside him.

  "Thank you," Connor said with a smile. He truly appreciated everything she'd been doing.

  "Farah!" Hazel called out, waving a hand.

  Bastian's daughter dropped the ball she'd been holding and ran over to them, a smile on her sweet little face.

  "Where's Papa?" She looked behind Connor. "Is he back?"

  Connor knelt down, his face level with hers. He felt Hazel's hand rest on his shoulder. "Farah, I have some bad news."

  The smile stayed on her face, but the twinkle in her eyes disappeared. "Is he gone?" Farah looked up. "Like Momma?" Her lower lip trembled.

  Connor nodded. He wished he could take away her pain. Farah had lost her mother and her father in a year's time. It was more than any child should bear.

  Tears slipped from the little girl's eyes, rolling down her cheeks. Farah's hands balled into fists. "He promised he'd come home. He promised we'd be together."

  "I'm so sorry, sweetie." Connor stroked her hair. "Your papa loved you so very much. He died a hero, helping to save us all from a very evil enemy."

  "I don't care. I want him back. Bring him back." She burst into an ugly cry and ran toward the village hall.

  "I'll go after her," Hazel said. "You need to say hi to your sons and your daughters."

  Before he could answer, Hazel ran off after Farah. It wasn't long before she caught up with the little girl, lifted Farah into her arms, and snuggled her tightly.

  Connor stood. His sons and his daughters. Hazel had included both his human and his dragon children. He looked at his wife again. Hazel was plain of face and body. She wasn't too tall or too short, nor did she style her hair in a fancy weave or wear tight clothing. Hazel wouldn't stand out in a crowd.

  Yet suddenly, Connor thought she was beautiful in her simplicity.

  "Poppa!" a young boy ran up to Connor, throwing his arms around Connor's legs.

  "Kurt." Connor ruffled his oldest son's hair. "Where is your brother?"

  Kurt pointed to the children. A little boy ran behind the rest of them, slower than the crowd. Every time the herd turned, he tried to catch them, but quickly fell behind once more. It didn't seem to bother Calvin, though. He just laughed and ran.

  "He's having fun, isn't he?" Connor asked. He hadn't spent enough time with his boys since their reunion. Even less than he'd spent with Hazel. They expected him to be their father, and Connor did his best to play the part.

  "Fotia’s having fun, too," Kurt said. He cocked his head to the side. "I'm not sure about Vatra. She has trouble keeping up. Did you know one leg is shorter than the other?"

  "I do," Connor said. He wasn't sure, but he thought Vatra had been taken from her egg too soon. Damn that Jarrett. That was his fault, too. "I bet she'll learn to deal with it, though. She's a strong little dragon."

  Kurt nodded emphatically, his sandy hair, just like his father's, bouncing around his head. "Poppa, are you done fighting the bad guys yet? Are you here to stay? Momma misses you."

  Connor couldn't help but smile. "I still have a lot to do, Kurt." He wasn't ready to give him the whole truth. The children in Hutton's Bridge didn't need to know about the beast waiting underground at the border between the Dragonlands and Desolation. Hopefully they would remain safe in the fog until the enemy could be defeated. "In fact, I have one more errand to run before I can come back tonight."

  "Are you going to change into a dragon again? When can I learn how?" Kurt asked, excitement glowing behind his eyes.

  "It's not that simple." Connor patted Kurt on the back. "Now get back into the game. Looks like your team could use you."

  "They're helpless without me," Kurt said. "Bye, Poppa!"

  Connor watched his oldest son run to his friends. Despite all of the trauma and loss the children had suffered, they seemed to be coping much better than the adults. Even Farah had stopped crying. She stood on the outskirts with Fotia, her arm around the blue dragon.

  "Did I hear you tell Kurt you're leaving again?" Hazel asked.

  Connor hadn't even noticed her return. He'd been too focused on the children. "I have a promise to keep. It won't take long. I'll be back before nightfall."

  Hazel nodded. "I'll save some dinner for you."

  "Thank you," Connor said. "You might want to save enough for two."

  Hazel raised an eyebrow. "Two?"

  Connor sighed. "Bastian and I had a lot of time to talk before we headed into battle. There is a woman in Ashoom who may be carrying his child."

  "I don't mean to speak ill of the dead, but Bastian always got around, didn't he?"

  "I don't recall our full history, Hazel. From what I know since becoming a dragon, Bastian did seem to enjoy the company of many women," Connor said.

  "And what about you?" It was quiet, barely even a whisper. As his wife, Hazel had every right to ask.

  "Never of my own volition." It was hard for Connor to admit it. Stacia had raped him when he was only newly reborn and living in a constant state of confusion. At the time, he thought he'd wanted to be with her. Now, understanding how Stacia had controlled him, he knew better.

  "I shouldn't have asked," Hazel said. "I'm so sorry."

  "Yes, you should know. Someday we will talk more about it. Not now. I have to seek out this woman." Connor took to the sky, the children cheering below him.

  They saw his dragon form as a wonder, a great thing to celebrate. It only reminded him of the years of memories he'd lost and the woman on the ground who loved him despite it.

  Chapter Four

  Connor sailed into the throne room at Ashoom. Moments later, his boots hit the marble floor. He strode across the room, dread pooling in his stomach. He couldn't even deal with the mother of his own children, and now he had to find a local whore, who might or might not be carrying Bastian's child, and convince her to come with him to Hutton's Bridge.

  He burst out the doors, scaring a half-asleep Barden on the other side.

  "My lord dragon," Barden said, bowing.

  "Stand up," Connor said as he breezed past. He ignored the annoying questions being hurled at him from behind. "Just stay at your post until further instructions.”

  He made his way through the quiet castle, far less bustling than it had been when the children were there. His footsteps echoed in the empty halls. Such a shame, a large castle going to waste. His fingers ran along the inlaid gems in the wall, lapis and sapphires and diamonds laid in intricate patterns. Up close, it looked a jumble, but if Connor stood back and took in the entire hall at once, he would see a series of Blue dragons. The Blue appeared to have been kind and giving in the past. Where had Stacia's mother gone wrong in raising the girl who turned into such a demon? Connor shuddered, remembering the things she'd done to him when he'd been unable to resist. All those nights she came to him, forcing herself on him, all in an effort to raise an army of Blue dragons.

  Now all that remained were Connor, Fotia, and Vatra. He'd raise them right and make sure neither of them would ever be like their mother.

  Connor exited the castle, leaving his distaste for Stacia there. He'd refused to carry it with him any longer. Instead, he focused on finding the
whore—no, the woman—who carried Bastian's child. Connor wouldn't label her any longer if she was to live with them in Hutton's Bridge. He walked down the streets of Ashoom, fitting in as if he were one of them. No one in village knew who the Blue dragon was. Most, if not all people in the Dragonlands, weren't even aware dragons could change into human form, except for the Green in the Meadowlands.

  He passed booth after booth in the street while vendors hawked their wares. Potatoes at one stall. Spun cotton at another. Dresses, corsets, and breeches at another. Connor chuckled under his breath. There were no booths for prostitutes. Likely they were the tired-looking women, shading their eyes from the bright sun, shopping for their food. Connor watched the women carefully. His eyes zeroed in on a woman at the herb booth.

  Swathed in a dark cloak, her face shaded from the sun by a hood, the woman carefully rifled through a box of dried lavender. Connor could see how pale her hands were. A woman who worked in the fields would have dark, sunburned, and dirty hands. As he ventured closer, he noticed her nails were clean.

  She twirled around, her back straight, head held high. Her eyelashes fluttered at Connor. Her red-painted lips puckered. "Can I help you?"

  Yes, he'd definitely found a prostitute. Whether it was the right one remained to be seen.

  "Maybe." Connor took her by the elbow, guiding her away from the market. She didn't fight. Instead she leaned into him, the scent of jasmine enveloping his senses. Connor tried not to sneeze.

  "I'm off duty now," she said, "but if you come back around dusk, I'd be more than happy to—"

  "I don't want you for that," he said. Either she'd give him the information he needed or he'd find another to ask.

  The woman shrugged her elbow out of his grasp. "Then make it quick. I had a long night and I'd like to get my items from the market and go back to bed." Her voice was less pretty and so was her face once she realized she'd make no money from him.

  "I'm looking for a woman who was with a man many moons ago. He was a tall redhead. She may be pregnant with his child." Connor watched, but her expression didn't change. "I'm willing to pay." He jingled a bag of coins.