Desolation (Dragonlands Book 4)

by Megg Jensen

  "Maybe," Blythe said. The tension in her stance was more than aggression. It was fear.

  Whatever ancient texts Blythe was talking about were deeply engrained in her beliefs. Connor wanted to scoff. What bearing could the verses of long-dead people possibly have on the world today? Then he thought of Decarian and the shadow, and he wondered if perhaps Blythe knew things that could help them with these new enemies.

  "Can we see these texts?" Connor asked. The others gaped at him.

  "We were getting ready to leave," Hazel reminded him.

  "I know, but if Blythe has information about ancient beasts, it might help us defeat whatever attacked us in Hutton's Bridge." Connor wrapped an arm around Hazel's shoulders. "We came north looking for help and information. Perhaps we can find some here."

  Blythe's eyes grew wide. "Outsiders have never been allowed to view our sacred texts, much less know about them. It is a carefully guarded secret in the Meadowlands."

  "These are two of my dearest friends," Bastian said to Blythe, his voice suddenly soft and cajoling. That was the Bastian Connor knew—the one who could sweet-talk a woman into anything. "Won't you let them take a look? It will help their children and my daughter. Imagine if your children were being threatened and you didn't know how to help them."

  Blythe wrung her hands. "Do you promise not to defile them? To be reverent?"

  "Of course," Connor said. "We will respect your sacred texts as if they were our own."

  Hazel took Blythe's hand. "Please, from one mother to another, help us."

  That seemed to be the final push Blythe needed. "Very well, then. Follow me."

  Blythe headed back toward village, her shoulders less square and sure than when she'd approached Connor. He felt bad that they'd pushed her into doing something she didn't want, but what harm could come from it? There was no risk, only the chance of reward. If anything in those texts gave a hint as to the nature of the shadow, then Connor wanted to know.

  Hazel grabbed his hand, swinging it in rhythm with their steps. Trepidation seeped through Connor's veins as they walked back to the village they'd come so close to escaping.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Blythe led Connor, Bastian, and Hazel to a building constructed of stones of every size and shape, bound together with a mortar of sand and broken seashells. It stood two stories tall, coming to a peak at the top. A large bell hung in the apex. Blythe rushed them all through the door, then closed it tightly behind them.

  "We are not supposed to enter the sacred space except on holy days," Blythe whispered. She reached for the nearest torch and motioned for them to follow her. "We leave a perpetual fire burning at all times to give the spirits light. It is not meant for us. But, today only, I will allow an exception."

  "When is your next holy day?" Hazel asked.

  "Not for another forty days," Blythe answered.

  Stone benches flanked both sides of the aisle they traversed, leading up to an altar. A huge stone stood in the center, nearly as tall as Bastian and wider than the four of them standing shoulder to shoulder. A strange symbol was engraved into its face.

  "What's this?" Hazel asked, her fingers reaching out to trace the intricate lines. Before she could touch it, Blythe slapped her hand away.

  "Don't. It's sacred." Blythe looked at them. "Don't touch anything. You don't know the power of the artifacts."

  Hazel nodded. Connor grabbed her hand and squeezed it. Hazel smiled back, but her lips were tense and her eyes narrowed. None of them had grown up with religion in Hutton's Bridge. It was an antiquated notion. Their problems were all made by the magic of men, not mystical beings. Any type of worship was foreign to them.

  Blythe pushed on a brown stone in the wall. It slowly depressed, accompanied by a loud grinding noise. The wall moved, and a doorway formed.

  "Can I have some help with this?" Blythe asked. Bastian pushed alongside Blythe, and the door creaked far enough open for them to slip through sideways.

  Blythe set her torch in an iron sconce, lighting up a small anteroom. Three walls were flanked with bookcases stuffed full of folios, scrolls, and vellum texts.

  "I know it appears haphazard," Blythe said, "but they are in a particular order. It's hard to make it look neat when there are so many different sizes and shapes of texts." Her fingers skimmed over the various editions, stopping when she located a large book bound in soft, pink pig skin. "This is it."

  Blythe heaved the book off the shelf, toppling multiple scrolls that had been resting atop it. Connor doubted their organizational system was as precise as she claimed. Her arms heavy, she lobbed the book onto the table where it landed with a thump. Dust plumed into the air.

  Blythe waved her hand, then sat on a chair. "Gather round."

  Connor, Bastian, and Hazel shuffled behind Blythe. She thumbed through the brightly illustrated pages of animals, symbols, and long treatises written in a language Connor didn't know.

  "It's somewhere in the middle," Blythe said. "Be patient. I'll find it."

  As she paged through the text, Connor began to see images he recognized. Kilrothgi, the huge, furry beasts that had wandered the fog outside Hutton's Bridge and nearly killed him, were depicted, as well as a variety of other beasts Connor hadn't seen. The next page showed a myriad of monsters bowing down to the leviathan Decarian. His arms spread wide and his chest puffed up. A hideous smile distorted his muscular face as he looked down on his minions.

  "We aren't sure yet if that thing is real or not," Blythe said. "It may be a depiction of an invisible god. We've only been able to verify the existence of four of the species groveling before him." She let a nervous laugh slip. "I hope it's not real."

  Connor’s stomach twisted into knots as she continued to flip pages. Blythe readily admitted she wasn't sure how much of the contents of the texts were real and how much was part of the Green’s mythology. Yet he knew Decarian existed. He'd seen and smelled it under the Red castle. If the people in the Meadowlands based their beliefs off the things they read in these texts, then maybe they weren't so far off of their assumptions.

  Prophecy was a different matter. It was one thing to record history and yet another to predict the future.

  "This is it. The next page." Blythe's hand hovered over the vellum. "I want you to be prepared for what you are about to see. It may be disconcerting."

  Connor leaned over Blythe's shoulder, and he noticed Bastian and Hazel doing the same. Despite their skepticism, they were curious what had Blythe so nervous.

  "Go ahead," Bastian said, breaking the tense silence. "Whatever it is, we'll be fine."

  Blythe turned the page. It fluttered down, exposing a two-page illustration.

  Hazel gasped. Bastian stumbled backward.

  Connor leaned forward, his eyes trained on the scene. "This is the prophecy you spoke of?"

  Blythe nodded. "The text on the following pages explains what you see here. It gives some background as well. It tells us everything we need to know about the people in the picture."

  Connor held back the urge to touch the page. A blood moon hovered over a battlefield. He wanted to trace the lines of the people lying dead on the ground, consumed by a raging fire. He wanted to study the strengths and weaknesses of the demons in the sky, wreaking havoc on the land he knew and loved. He wanted to yank on the dragons in the corner, who were flying away from the devastation, leaving their home to burn.

  "This won't happen," Hazel said between choked tears. "It can't. We won't allow it. I am a dragon now. Connor and I will fight. Bastian, too."

  "Then you will die," Blythe said. "We are changing all of our people to give them the opportunity to fly away when the enemy comes. We will need an army, yes, but only one that will hold the enemy back long enough for us to fly away with our children and elderly. Those who survive will join us to the west."

  "To the west?" Bastian asked. "Where? There is only sea."

  "No," Blythe insisted. "There is land. The book tells us so. That land is our sa
lvation, our future. Anyone in the Dragonlands who remains human will die at the hands of the enemy because they will not be able to escape." She looked up at Hazel. "I'm sorry we had to force you into becoming a dragon, but it was for your own good."

  "What?" Hazel's voice cracked. "So I can run away? A coward? No, I don't think so." Hazel stood tall, her shoulders back. "I will not flee. I will stay and fight."

  Blythe closed the book without ceremony. She returned it to the bookcase, carefully setting it underneath the scrolls. "I choose to live. Others will fight to give us the chance to leave. Bastian is one of those. He is strong and brave. We need men exactly like him."

  "I still can't reliably turn into a dragon," Bastian said. "What if I can't by the time the war comes? Then what? Will I be left to die with the rest of the Dragonlands?"

  "You will be able to change by then," Blythe said, placing a reassuring hand on his arm.

  Bastian shrugged it off. "How do you know? Wait... more prophecy?"

  Blythe nodded. "There is more in the book, but I cannot share it with you. Our elders say too much knowledge is harmful to the mind."

  "I'm not staying because a book written hundreds of years ago says I should," Bastian said. "Will you stop me? Will you call an army to keep me here?"

  "No, I won't," Blythe said. "You may leave, but mark my words, you will be back, Bastian. Your fate lies in the Meadowlands. You were reborn here and you will..."

  "What?" Bastian's eyes narrowed as he moved closer to Blythe.

  Connor grabbed his friend's shoulder, but Bastian shook him off.

  "I will die? Is that what you were about to say?" Bastian asked. His fists shook at his sides.

  "You will command the Green army against the enemy. And, yes, you will die here. Leave now, if you must, but you will be back."

  "No, I won't." Bastian turned and stalked out of the room.

  Connor turned to Blythe. "Is there anything we can use in the coming fight? Any hints on the weaknesses of the enemy?"

  "Connor, please," Hazel said. "Don't give in to her delusions. Let's just leave. There's nothing here for us."

  "Blythe?" Connor asked again. "Why did you bring us here?"

  Blythe lifted her chin, looking Connor straight in the eyes. "Because you needed to know the truth. I see that you believe me. There is something in that book that spoke directly to you, yes?"

  Hazel tugged on his arm. "Let's go."

  Connor looked at his wife, then back at Blythe. The woman was right. He had seen Decarian. He knew truth was written in that text. As for the future, he wasn't quite willing to believe it could be seen from the past. He wasn't willing to discount it either.

  If the drawing was true, a great and devastating war was headed toward them. It meant Tressa wouldn't succeed in her trip to Desolation. The beasts would break free. They would attack and thousands of people would die.

  Connor opened his mouth to respond but found he had nothing to say. He lowered his eyes, unwilling to look at Blythe or the walls of bound texts. Instead he followed his wife out of the church and to the field where he changed into a dragon. Bastian and Hazel climbed silently onto his back with no words between them. Connor set off for the south, for Hutton's Bridge, and for the human children whose eyes he had seen pleading with him from the fires of the image. He wouldn’t leave them. They’d fight the shadow on their own.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Tressa squinted at the monstrous statue in the dark cavern. "Is Fi alive?" she whispered to Donovan.

  He held up a hand, quieting her, and cocked his ear toward the center of the cavern. Tressa followed suit, listening for something other than the breathing of her companions. She heard nothing. Not even a scrabble of pebbles on the rocky floor.

  It was perfect. They could save Fi and get out as quickly as they'd come. Hopefully there would be no more attacks like the one that took Kadrin. Tressa pushed aside her distress over his death. There would be time to process it later. Time to make apologies. Attempt to make amends. Right now the only thing that mattered was Fi.

  Tressa took a hesitant step forward only to run into Donovan's outstretched arm.

  No. His lips formed the word. His eyes carried a dire warning. He cautiously stepped forward, his sword at the ready.

  Tressa itched to follow Donovan, or even sprint past him, but she knew he was testing the cavern. He was acting as bait for anything that might be out there waiting for them.

  One careful step after another brought him closer to Fi. When he reached her, he laid a hand on her throat. Tressa gulped, waiting for a sign that Fi still breathed. That her friend wasn't lying there dead. That she hadn't wasted Kadrin's life coming to this forsaken place.

  Donovan looked at Tressa. The smallest smile cracked at his cheeks as he gave her a nod.

  Fi was alive! Alive! Tressa's heart skipped a beat.

  Donovan slid his arms under Fi and lifted her carefully from the stone beast. Fi's head lolled against Donovan's shoulder, her eyes closed. He didn’t appear strained under the weight of Fi’s limp body.

  He hurried back to the group. "This is too easy." Donovan looked behind him. "Something isn't right."

  "Who cares?" Hildie said. "Let's get out of here before they realize we're here."

  "That's the puzzling part," Accore said as they moved back toward the tunnel. "They know we're here. Kadrin’s death tells us that much. They are planning something, to be sure."

  "Hurry," Donovan hissed over his shoulder at us.

  Before he could enter the tunnel, a loud rumbling shook the cavern. Rocks fell in front of the passageway. Within moments the opening was covered with debris. Accore and Hildie clawed at them but couldn't manage to remove even one.

  "They're too heavy," Accore said with a grunt. "We need to find another way out. Suggestions?"

  Everyone looked to Donovan.

  "I don't know," he said. "Perhaps—"

  The room went black with an unearthly darkness. Silence descended on the cavern. The party stood tense, shoulder-to-shoulder.

  "I don't like this." Fregar's voice trembled.

  Tressa held out a hand in the darkness. She moved it closer to her face, dismayed to realize she couldn't see it at all, even when her palm touched her nose. Her skin tingled. This felt all too familiar. She'd been trapped in the fog outside of Hutton's Bridge. It was so thick she couldn't see a thing in front of her. Only then she'd discovered her little owl friend Nerak gave her magic that allowed her to see.

  It was her first introduction to the magical world she lived in. How she wished Nerak was with her now. Or Bastian. He'd been so calm in the fog, so sure that they'd find Connor and their way out. Tressa missed him more than she could express. There hadn't even been time to grieve Bastian, much less come to terms with how empty her heart felt without him.

  "Stay together," Donovan said, yanking Tressa back to the present. "We should not be separated."

  "Without light to guide us, or even knowing a way out, how do we know where to go?" Onva asked. Her voice wavered. "Wouldn't it be better to just stay here until the light returns?"

  "There are no guarantees it will," Hildie said. "We must move. If we stay..."

  "The shades will find us," Accore finished.

  "On my word we all move together," Donovan said. "While I was picking up Fi, I saw another opening behind the statue. We'll head toward that. Now!"

  The group took an awkward step forward. As shoulders bumped and feet tangled, Tressa wished she had vines she could fashion into a long rope. When she and Bastian were trapped in the fog that was the only way they were able to tether themselves together. There was no fear of being left alone after that.

  They took another step and another until they were walking less awkwardly. After a long stretch of silence and dozens of steps, Donovan ordered them to a stop.

  "I can feel the statue," he said. "We need to move around to the right of it. Who is on the end?"

  "I am," Tressa said. Her shoulder only t
ouched Onva's.

  "Reach out until you can feel the statue," Donovan said. "I want your hand on it at all times. Do not let go until I say."

  Tressa fumbled in the air, her fingers wiggling, searching for something solid. Finally she brushed the cool stone of the statue. "I've got it.”

  "Good," Donovan said. "Now I'm going to lead the group around the statue. I'll rely on my memory to point us in the right direction."

  Tressa kept her hand on the stone as she felt Onva move, her shoulder rotating to a new angle. Tressa moved forward a few tiny steps, keeping herself attached to both Onva and the stone as her fingers grazed the surface.

  From far away, the stone had appeared a smooth onyx. Now Tressa could feel the tiny variations in the stone, and her fingertips dipped into the divots created during the sculpting. She wondered who had built this catacomb and how long it had taken them to sculpt this giant beast from stone. Had they been able to fill the catacomb before the shades took it over? Were there people aboveground who wanted to be buried with their ancestors, but couldn't because of the evil that had befallen it?

  "Not far now," Donovan said. "Everyone put a hand on the shoulder of the person next to you. We're going to stretch farther out toward the wall. I want Tressa to stay by the statue so we always know where we are in the room."

  Tressa stood still, feeling Onva shift ever so slightly to the side until Tressa's shoulder touched Onva's back. Tressa reached out with her right hand, placing it on Onva's shoulder as Onva slowly walked away from her.

  "Don't go much farther." Tressa's fingertips grazed Onva's back as she moved. Tressa stretched her arms as far as they could go, one fingertip on the statue, the other on Onva's warm flesh. "I almost can't reach you!"

  "We're close to the wall," Donovan said. "I'm sure of it. Will you be okay if we move forward a few steps, Tressa? We’ll turn around and come back for you."

  Tressa wanted to scream and tell them no. She didn't want to be left alone next to the statue wondering if they'd ever make their way back to her. Then she thought of Fi. This was all for her, and if this was another sacrifice she needed to make for her friend, then she'd do it.