by Megg Jensen
Bastian let out a little groan. Was she still alive? His sacrifice might have been in vain. What had she told him? As long as your heart beats, so does mine.
Bastian could have sworn his heart had stopped beating. He thought he'd met death. Unfortunately it appeared the world had given him another chance.
"Close your eyes," the woman said. The prick left his neck. "Light the torch," she called.
Bastian obeyed, but he could still see the bright light through his closed lids. The woman loosened the bonds holding him down. He stretched carefully, then opened his eyes.
He was inside some kind of barn. Torchlight glinted off metal hanging from the loft. Bastian sat up gingerly and rubbed his wrists.
The woman stood across from him. Her dirty blond hair hung past her shoulders while her green eyes locked on his. She crossed her arms over her chest and smirked. "Welcome back. How does it feel to rise from the dead? I'm Blythe, by the way."
"What are you talking about?" Bastian asked. He didn't jump off the table. He had no idea how long he'd been unconscious and his feared his legs would be weak. "How long was I out?"
"Not long," she said. "Only a few days. Not enough time to lose your memories, thankfully. The other two couldn't prove their loyalty, so we had to return them to their death. Can't have Red sympathizers walking around the Meadowlands."
She wasn't making any sense. "What do you mean 'rise from the dead?'" Bastian asked.
"You were dead," Blythe said. "You know that, right? You died in battle."
"I don't understand." Bastian looked around again. "Am I in the afterlife? It's not what I expected."
Blythe laughed, her shoulders shaking. "No. This isn't the afterlife. I brought you back to life. A bit of my blood, and you're as good as new. Actually, you're better than you were before."
"Really?" Bastian asked. He stood. His legs seemed solid. "How am I better?" Bastian flexed his arm, a rock-solid muscle popping out. Yeah, he still had it.
"You're a dragon now." She said it so matter-of-factly that Bastian questioned his hearing.
"No, I'm not," he said. "I'd rather be dead than be a dragon."
"I'm more than happy to kill you, if that's what you want. But I'd rather not." Blythe deftly tossed a dagger in the air. Bastian watched it spin and land in her palm over and over again. "I chose you for a reason."
Bastian sat down on the table, suddenly weak. He looked up at the metal and could see it more clearly now. Armor. Dragon armor. Bastian's head slipped into his hands. She'd mentioned the Meadowlands. He vaguely remembered hearing that every person in the Meadowlands had been turned into a dragon and that's why the barrier had been erected between them and the Red and Yellow.
"Why me?" he asked.
Blythe walked over to the table. "You're strong. That's clear by looking at your body. You take great pride in being physically fit. We need more warriors who can withstand battle. There is a great war coming. We in the Meadowlands have known this for a very long time. Our elders passed this knowledge on to every succeeding generation. We must prepare for the inevitable war. If we are to survive, we must bolster our numbers."
"I thought we were beating the Red back there."
"This is not a war concerning dragons," Blythe said. She sat next to him on the table. "This is about what lies in our past and what is lurking in our future. If we are to have any chance of surviving, we need more warriors."
Bastian's stomach sank to his feet. "How do you know it's true? Maybe it's just the ramblings of old people who pass fear down to the next generation."
Blythe sighed. "Because we have a list of events that have been foretold. They are unfolding now. The first was Hutton's Bridge getting lost behind the fog. The next was the war between the dragons. We are on the cusp of the next reveal. I refuse to be caught with my pants down."
In the past Bastian would have had a sexual thought in response to such a remark, but something had changed inside him. He felt more serious, less interested in a quick score. "And how do I fit into this?"
"The Book of Foretelling speaks of a man who will lead us to victory. It says he is brave and strong, and that he will come to us from a land without dragons. It also says he will rise from the dead, stronger than ever, with the blood of a Green dragon running through his veins." Blythe rubbed her hands together. "We were recently released from the magic that kept us trapped in the Meadowlands. You are one of three we took from the carnage of the battlefield. You are the only ally we found."
"So you think this man is me?" Bastian asked, wary. He was so tired of fighting. He had a daughter to return to, and it was possible Elinor had lived, too. He needed to know what fate had befallen them.
"I don't know," Blythe admitted. "I was willing to try. I cannot be blamed for trying to save my people."
"By forcing a prophecy on a dead man," Bastian said. "I'm not sure that's how prophecy works."
"No one knows how prophecy works," Blythe said. "Only that it always comes true. Was it our actions or was it inevitable? No one can say."
"And if I choose to walk away?" Bastian asked.
"I'll kill you before you leave this building." Blythe snaked her arm around his neck, pressing the dagger into his throat once more. "You either agree to help us or you will die again. It is that simple."
"Will I ever be free?" Bastian asked. Assuming Connor had made it back to Hutton’s Bridge after the battle, he would have told Farah her father was dead. She would move on without him, an orphan. But if he could give the Green dragons what they wanted, and if he lived through it, he could return to her one day.
Blythe nodded. "Yes. After all is done, you will be free."
"Then I will do what I can to help you." Bastian took a deep breath, knowing he needed to address the one thing he wished he could ignore. "About being a dragon..."
"You’ll soon learn to love it. Everyone does. It imparts a feeling of power unlike anything you've ever felt. We will teach you everything you need to know." Blythe sheathed the dagger on her hip.
Bastian breathed a sigh of relief. She must have decided he was no longer a threat. And perhaps he wasn't. Maybe all of this could work out. He was alive, after all. Beating death was only the first obstacle. He'd seen Connor survive the same transition mostly unscathed. His friend only lacked his memories, but Bastian's were still fully intact.
Especially the memories of the woman he loved. He'd killed for her. With Jarrett gone, maybe he and Tressa would find their way back to each other. The last time they'd made love in Hutton's Bridge, when she'd told him about her miscarriage, something had been different. They'd agreed it was the last time they'd ever be together, that it was only a reflection of the past. Yet, Tressa had made love to him with a hunger he'd never experienced before. She'd changed somehow, and now he had, too.
Bastian held out a hand to Blythe. They shook hands firmly. "Then I will stay,” Bastian said. “I will do my best to learn. However, I can't guarantee I'm the warlord you're looking for."
Blythe’s eyes narrowed and she cocked her head.
"What?" Bastian asked. "Did I say something wrong?"
"No," Blythe said, waving a hand. "It's nothing. Come, follow me. You have a lot of work ahead of you."
Bastian followed Blythe out of the barn and into the dark of night. Stars twinkled above them.
A shadow crossed over the stars and flew across the light of the moon.
A dragon—the thing he hated most.
And now he was one of them.
Chapter Fourteen
“What is a shade?” Tressa asked Donovan, trying not to panic. “And where did it take Fi?”
“It is one of the monsters living in Desolation. They have taken her and we cannot save her.”
"We have to go after her." Tressa nabbed her pack off the ground and snagged Fi's too. "What is this shade that took her?"
"We are too close to turn away." Donovan looked into the distance, ignoring her question. "We must continue our quest."
/>
Tressa grabbed Donovan's arm. "No. I refuse to lose another loved one. You need to tell me what this thing is so we can find Fi. Only then I will go on with your plans."
"Are you willing to risk the lives of everyone in the Dragonlands just to save one soul?" Donovan's eyes bored into Tressa's.
She'd given up her relationship with Bastian to avenge Connor. She'd abandoned Jarrett multiple times when he needed her, just so she could help the Dragonlands fight against the Red. Every time she came out on top, but she always lost someone close to her.
No more. It ended now.
"Fi. We find her first. I won't lose her." Tressa crossed her arms over her chest. "If you want to go ahead without me, do it. But I am going after Fi."
"You cannot do so without me. You wouldn't know where to look. You don't know anything about the shades. You could wander Desolation for the rest of your life—which wouldn’t be long anyway because you wouldn't survive the night without me." Donovan tapped the bowl of his pipe, letting the ashes fall. He ground them down with his boot.
"Then we're at an impasse," Tressa said. "One of us must give in. It won't be me." She turned away and started walking back the way they'd come.
"Where are you going?" Donovan yelled after her.
Without stopping, she tossed a reply over her shoulder. "I'm going to cross the Wardack River and head east. I'll ask for help from someone else."
Donovan let loose a string of curses. His boots pounded the ground, and he quickly caught up with Tressa. "I cannot allow you to walk into your own death. I will help you find your friend—if she's even still alive—but I cannot afford to lose you. Without you, the Dragonlands will fall."
Before they left, Donovan hadn’t even wanted her to come. Now he claimed the fate of the Dragonlands hinged on her. Tressa doubted his insistent words. She had taken control and fought when it was required, but another could always take her place. Fi had risked everything for Tressa more than once. Now it was Tressa's turn to repay her friend.
"Thank you," she said to Donovan. "Where do we start?"
Donovan sighed and adjusted the pack on his back. "We will do as you said. Cross the river at the bridge. Then we head northeast to a nearby village. There will be someone there who can help us." He placed a hand on Tressa's shoulder. "Do not speak of the dragon. Pretend you are one of us. Act like you were born in Desolation."
"And just how does one act if they're born in Desolation?" Tressa asked.
"Well, for one, we listen to each other instead of stomping off in anger. We also trust each other. In a land like this, people survive off teamwork. No one goes anywhere alone. It is too dangerous. It is fine to have an opinion, but offer it and be willing to discuss it. Decisions made in haste lead to death."
"What about the shades?" Tressa asked. "If one took Fi so easily, then how are we to avoid being taken ourselves?"
"Fi was taken because she was weak." Donovan set off along the riverbank toward the bridge in the distance.
Tressa had to jog to keep up with him. "So if you hadn’t removed her dragon, she would have been stronger, more able to defend herself."
"No," Donovan said, his voice wavering for only a moment. "If Fi had the dragon inside her, the shade would have killed her and left her body as a warning."
"So then this is good news." Tressa watched Donovan's carefully guarded expression crumble. "What aren't you telling me?"
Donovan's shoulders fell. "I had hoped to avoid this. If we had reached our destination before the shades found us, then we might have had a chance."
"What will this shade do with Fi?" Tressa demanded, despite her huffing breath as she jogged alongside Donovan's stride.
"It will keep her alive. Study her. Experiment on her." Donovan refused to meet Tressa's stony gaze. "Even if we do find her, Fi may not be the woman you call your friend. Rescuing her puts us in danger, as well as anyone who agrees to help us. Instead of following my instructions and doing the one thing that will help the Dragonlands, you may get us all killed."
Tressa fell a few steps behind Donovan, and he didn't correct his stride to keep pace with her. It was just as well. She needed time to think. She remembered how Fi had left the battle between the Black and the Red to follow Tressa when Jarrett held her in thrall and forced her to come to the Isle of Repose. If Fi hadn’t come to her aid, Tressa might be dead at Jarrett's hands.
"If the shade is really that dangerous, then please let me do this on my own. Tell me what you can, but don't risk your life or the lives of others." Tressa knew that reduced her chances of success, but she couldn't think of another fair solution.
Donovan shook his head. "No. I will go with you. Others will also be willing to help. We are a brave, strong people. We have to be, to survive in this place. We will find your friend. Then we will finish what I brought you here to do."
The two walked in silence until they reached the bridge. Tressa had only seen it from a distance before. She shuddered with revulsion as she saw what it was made from. Bones. Some human, others that looked like they belonged under Decarian's skin. They were stacked upon each other and tied together with rope. The bridge, glistening with wet patches from the splashing whitecaps, spanned the narrow part of the roaring river.
"Why bones?" Tressa asked as she stepped onto the bridge, both hands shaking as she clutched the rails.
"It was constructed immediately after a great war. We chose to use bones instead of trees to conserve the little resources we had. It also served as a warning for many years, though the true horror of the bridge eventually wore off."
Tressa couldn't help herself. "What?"
"The skin was still on when it was built. The bridge looked like a monster of nightmares. Today it is merely bones, but it serves as a reminder to the beasts that would cross to the human side of Desolation. We are not easily defeated."
The history of Desolation fascinated Tressa. Donovan's explanations only gave her small pieces, and she couldn't shake the feeling he was purposely leaving out something.
On the other side of the bridge, Tressa was relieved to step back onto solid ground. "How much further to the village?"
"We will arrive there by nightfall," Donovan said. "Come. We've lost enough time already. Take a quick drink from your water skin, and then we will be on our way again."
Tressa lifted the skin to her trembling lips. She refused to let Donovan see her fear. She corked her water skin and hung it at her waist. Then she followed Donovan deeper into the strange land.
Chapter Fifteen
"Stop." Donovan held an arm out in front of Tressa. He lifted his chin and sniffed the air. "We are close. Do not make any sudden moves. The people here are easily spooked."
Tressa's eyes swept the barren landscape. There wasn't anything to be seen. Dark rocks jutted out of the ground and a scant copse of trees stood silent in the distance, but there was no sign of life, much less a village.
Donovan motioned her forward, and she took three careful steps toward him.
A sharp point stabbed her side. Tressa jumped toward Donovan, grabbing his arm. "Ow!" she yelled, forgetting the ban on talking. "What was that?" Something poked her again in the side, this time harder.
"We come seeking assistance," Donovan said, looking over Tressa's shoulder.
A voice chuckled. Tressa turned to see a man standing nearby with his sword point at her side. "Where did you come from?" she demanded. "Sheath your sword. I'm not here to fight."
"I know you're not," he answered as his sword swiped at her waist, cutting her belt. Tressa's sword clattered to the ground. He kicked it away before she could reach for it. "Now, let's all get inside the village before we're seen. Hurry up." He picked up her sword, took two steps, and disappeared.
"What?" Tressa held out a hand in front of her. "Where did he go with my sword?"
"Remember when we were in the tent last night?" Donovan asked. He grabbed Tressa's hand, propelling her forward. "It was under a spell. So is the village. You
'll see."
She took two steps and blinked. An entire village stood before her. Tressa looked over her shoulder at the barren land, then forward again at the village. She took a step backward and the village disappeared, replaced by the copse of trees in the distance. A disembodied hand grabbed her arm, pulling her back into the village.
"I—" She had no words. The world outside Hutton's Bridge kept finding new ways to amaze her.
The man who'd taken her sword laughed again. "Obviously you're from the far eastern lands. They don't have to hide like we do. It's not easy living so close to the Barrier Mountains." He brushed his curly blond hair out of his face and tossed Tressa's sword to another man who stood nearby. "Sorry about your weapon. Until we know why you're here, I can't allow you to carry your weapon. I am Accore. Welcome to Ergoth. It's nice to meet you..." He held out a tentative hand.
Tressa swallowed the lump in her throat. "Tressa." She slipped her hand in his and shook it.
Accore looked at Donovan. "You need no introduction. I recognize you from the ancient texts." He fell to one knee and bowed his head. "We are humbled by your presence, Donovan."
Tressa's eyes grew wide. She held back her rapidly multiplying list of questions, feeling it was wiser to wait.
Donovan touched Accore on the shoulder. "You may rise. We don't have time for formalities. Now is the time to act."
Accore stood. "Whatever you need, we will provide. Food? Shelter? Men to guide you?"
"What we need are warriors," Donovan said as he and Accore walked further into the village.
Tressa followed them down a dusty street. Men and women bustled about, working at their various trades. They didn't seem to notice, or care, that there were two strangers in their invisible village. Tressa fought the urge to run to the far end of the village and look for that copse of trees in the distance. She wanted to understand how this magic worked. Had they travelled somewhere, as she and Fi did with Donovan when they entered Desolation, or was the village standing hidden in the middle of the dead land?
