Reckoning (Book 5)

by Megg Jensen

  There was only one problem. Tressa still wasn't sure she could trust these men. She'd been told many lies in the past, and at first she'd been willing to believe all of them. Now, she had to be skeptical of those who told her what she wanted to hear—and there was nothing she wanted to hear more than that a long-forgotten army was waiting to help her in her time of greatest need.

  She looked at the men again, their faces grim, but eager. Donovan had been sure of himself, manipulating Tressa and Fi into following his orders. These men appeared willing to listen to hers.

  Tressa took a deep breath. "If you are willing to join me, then we need to head in the direction of the friends I asked about when I arrived here."

  "Fantastic!" Krom said. "I will rouse the rest of our men, and we will mount our horses."

  "Horses?" Tressa looked around the tower again, unable to see any sign of animals.

  "They're outside," Rynth said. "They are hidden with us, but today, they will be seen once again."

  "Well, then, muster your men,” Tressa said.

  "And women," Rynth said. "We have female warriors, as well."

  Tressa couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face. "I'm looking forward to meeting all of your brave warriors." Maybe now they would have a chance against Donovan and Decarian and whatever other monsters he would send against them.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Fi huddled under the moth-eaten blanket, her hands over her ears, trying desperately to ignore the screeching coming from outside the cabin. Donovan had told them the day before that his army was almost ready to break free from its underground prison. He promised he would soon destroy the Dragonlands, and he told Fi she would help him.

  Of course, she’d vehemently disagreed, vowing to stop him. Donovan slapped her so hard she flew across the room, her face smacking into the wooden slats of a chair back. Now she could barely sleep. Her throbbing face and wounded pride kept her up, as well as the eye she could barely open thanks to swelling from her injury.

  She swore Donovan would pay. Somehow. She wanted to kill him, though she was sure there would be a lot of people in line to eviscerate Donovan, given the chance. Jarrett only hid in his corner, doing exactly as Donovan bade. He was a coward and a traitor. Fi would kill him, too. She no longer cared that Tressa thought he might be redeemable. Not in Fi's eyes. Not ever again.

  Shrieks rang out in the night, sounds unlike any she'd ever heard. Her skin crawled with goose bumps that came unbidden in waves as the demons and beasts prepared for war. Bone against steel, the squishy sound of pierced flesh, war cries so frightening it was as if they emanated from the depths of the underworld.

  Fi didn't want to give up before trying, but she had no idea how the beasts, skeletons, and demons could be defeated.

  Could the skeletons, made solely of bone, die? Some of the beasts had flesh. If they bled, it was likely they would die. If they were not alive, then how could they have their lives taken away? And Decarian, the largest of them all. It would take dozens, maybe even hundreds, of dragons to defeat him. Donovan had the upper hand. He knew it, and soon the rest of the Dragonlands would know it as well.

  Blood and fire. The Dragonlands would be bathed in it. Donovan had already proclaimed his victory. Fi was hard-pressed to believe he was wrong. She wanted to, but hope proved elusive.

  "Fi." It was Jarrett.

  She stayed under her blanket, pretending to sleep. Jarrett was nothing to her.

  "Fi, I know you're awake. I can tell by the pattern of your breathing. It's not steady enough to mimic sleep. I need to talk to you."

  Fi rolled her eyes as she pulled the blanket down. "What?"

  "I've thought of a way for us to escape." Jarrett inched closer to her on the floor.

  The man couldn't be trusted. Fi had already given him more chances than he deserved and only because Tressa had begged her to. Not this time.

  "Please, I want to get away from Donovan as much as you do. We never would have gotten away in the forest. You proved that. But I have a better idea now. One that will work." He sounded insistent. Almost too insistent. He was trying to trick her. Again.

  "Go to sleep, Jarrett," she said, pulling the blanket up to her chin. She lay on her back. It was too painful for her face to lie with her cheek pressed to the floor.

  "Fi, I know we've had a hard time getting back to trusting each other—"

  Fi bolted up. "Trusting each other? There hasn't been one moment where I betrayed you. All you've done is betray us over and over again. Each time insisting you've changed." She shook her head. "No, the man I met helping Tressa is gone. You are Donovan's puppet. That is all you ever will be."

  "He's distracted," Jarrett said. He scooted even closer to Fi, his voice no more than a whisper. "His power over me only works so long as he is focused. Right now, I am nothing to him. Just an annoyance. He thinks I've nearly outlived my usefulness. He's wrong."

  "No. Leave me alone. There is nothing you can do to make me trust you."

  "You don't need to trust me. Just come with me." Jarrett threw his blanket off, revealing a fresh pair of breeches and a clean shirt. He'd been nothing but filthy since reuniting with Donovan under the ruins of the Red castle. Now he was like the old Jarrett. As if he had control over himself.

  Still, Fi couldn’t do it. "No."

  Jarrett put his hands on Fi's shoulders, forcing her to face him. "Why would he arrange for me to spirit you out in the middle of the night, only to catch you again? It doesn't make sense. Come on, Fi. Do this. If not for me, for Tressa."

  Fi slapped Jarrett. "Don't you dare speak of Tressa after everything you put her through!"

  "I know there's nothing I can do to make her trust me, much less love me, again. That doesn't mean I want to give in to Donovan, either. My head is clear. I will make my escape now. If you want to stay, then stay."

  Jarrett stood. He reached a hand down to Fi, but she wouldn't take it.

  "Fi, please. Come with me."

  Fi crossed her arms over her chest.

  "Fine. I'm headed due east, with or without you. Give Donovan my regards when he comes back to check on us. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to see you here alone."

  She quickly imagined the things Donovan would do to her if he found Jarrett gone. She'd be lucky if he killed her, but likely he'd do to her what he'd done to Jarrett. Her insides agitated with conflicting emotions.

  Jarrett headed toward the door. Before he could lay a hand on the latch, Fi jumped to her feet. She didn’t want to, but something compelled her. Made it seem like following Jarrett was the smart thing to do. "Fine. I'll go with you. But don't count on my trust."

  Jarrett smiled that same stupid smile that had always brought Tressa to her knees. Fi admitted he was attractive, and she could see why Tressa had fallen for him so quickly, but none of that mattered anymore. The moment she found her allies, she'd have him put in isolation again.

  "I'm going to use a spell that makes us invisible. I'm not very powerful at magic, so you have to stay next to me." Jarrett motioned Fi over.

  She inched closer, standing closer than she wanted. Her stomach turned, unsure if she was making the right decision. Doing something was better than hiding under the blanket, waiting for Donovan to come back. "Why didn’t you do this when we were outside near the forest?"

  "Because Donovan was too close. He's away now. I don't know where he went, but it was far enough for his grip on me to loosen. In fact, when you went to Desolation with him, I was completely free of his influence. Unfortunately, those mages kept me sedated the whole time. It wasn't until Donovan returned to the castle that his grip tightened again." Jarrett glanced at Fi, his grin replaced by a grimace. "Ready?"

  Fi nodded. She wasn't ready at all, but she had chosen to follow him. Jarrett waved his hands in the air.

  Fi's vision wavered as if a sheer blanket had been laid over her head. Jarrett was the only thing she could see clearly.

  "Be quiet," Jarrett whispered. "This spell will
hide us, but it won't muffle any noises we make. You must be careful of where you step. Hold my hand so we make sure to stay together."

  Fi slipped her hand in his, trying not to recoil at his touch, feeling as though she'd just escaped one demon by making a pact with another.

  Jarrett opened the door of the cottage. A few skeletons stood guard nearby, swords in their bony hands. Fi and Jarrett padded across the grass, not making a sound. The skeletons' skulls turned, watching the area, but they gave no indication that they noticed the two slipping out from underneath their grasp.

  Fi breathed shallowly, doing her best to stay silent. She had to admit Jarrett’s spell was working. Every step took them farther from the cabin and closer to freedom. If they made it to safety, she just might give him a big kiss on his cheek. But she'd still have him quarantined. He'd admitted Donovan's hold over him had to do with proximity. It wasn't truly broken. He still couldn't be trusted. Ever.

  Fi felt a surge of hope as they stepped into a copse of trees. Jarrett lowered his shaking hands, the smile back on his face. "We did it," he whispered.

  "We're not exactly away yet," Fi said. "We could be caught at any moment."

  "There is a paddock of horses just on the other side of these trees," Jarrett said. "We need to steal two and gallop off into the night. If we get far enough away, Donovan won't know where to look. He'll give up on us because his army is more important to him than we are."

  "I hope you're right," Fi said. She stepped carefully through the trees toward the other side. Sure enough, Jarrett was right. Dozens of horses slept, standing.

  "Let's walk invisibly the rest of the way," Jarrett said. He held his arms up, and the world became fuzzy again.

  Fi clenched her fists. She was so close to escaping. For the first moment since the Red castle collapsed, she believed she had a chance.

  Chapter Eighteen

  "Master, they have escaped, as you said they would." Hildie stood at attention in front of Donovan.

  "Good, good." Donovan turned his back to his skeleton army, hidden deep in the recesses of the cave. Some were in the tunnel, digging until it was wide enough for Decarian to fit through. Others were weaving the feathers of dead birds together with the strings of sinew pulled from their guts.

  Hildie stood in the back, modeling a pair of the finished wings for Donovan. "What do you think?" Her jaws clicked together in excitement as she turned around so Donovan could examine the wings.

  "I think they will work perfectly," he said, running his fingers down the wings. A bit of blood and pieces of the bird's guts still speckled the wings. Donovan brought his filthy fingertips to his lips and licked off the remnants. "Mmmm, still fresh."

  Hildie turned around again, her knee bones clanking together. Though the people of Desolation no longer had the illusion of skin, Donovan could still tell them apart. He'd known these people his whole life. They were his family, in a way. They'd lived on in Desolation, their fear and hatred of dragons festering.

  "Take them off," Donovan said. "I don't want you in this first battle. I won't waste your talents there."

  Another skeleton carefully peeled the wings off of Hildie's spine. Hildie shrugged her shoulders and stepped away. The skeleton waited for Hildie to clink away, then said, "What next? When do we get to rip the dragons’ flesh apart?"

  "Soon, my dear, soon." Donovan leaned over, kissing her skull where her cheek would have been. This skeleton was different, special. This was his love, Magda. The one he’d betrayed so many years ago with Bianca in the barn. He’d gone back for her after her death, stealing her bones from her grave and keeping them with him for years until he learned how to reanimate her.

  Magda sighed and leaned in to Donovan. "It feels so different without skin. I miss my body. I miss you."

  Donovan grabbed her wrist, turning her around. He pulled down his pants and took her from the back, right there in front of everyone. He had waited so long to feel her again. All those years he'd been trapped in the Dragonlands, aggravating him until he could find a way back into Desolation. Anger filled him as he took it out on the skeleton, banging against it until his seed spilled out. It dripped down Magda’s leg bones to the dirt on the floor of the cave.

  Donovan wiped himself clean and yanked his pants back up. The other skeletons hadn't even stopped their work. It wasn’t in Donovan to feel shame over his behavior. He had loved Magda his whole life. When she'd been killed and turned into a skeleton, his love hadn’t ended. It had only grown more frantic and desperate with each passing year.

  The spells of that evil witch had ruined all of their lives. If only Donovan hadn’t succumbed to her. It was her fault. The dead in Desolation had never turned against him. Not like his brother had.

  Mestifito deserved everything he got now. Donovan would destroy him and all of his precious little dragons. One by one they would die.

  Not yet, though. The next morning, when all of the wings were completed, he would send out a few of the winged skeletons to put the final part of his plan into motion.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The next morning, Farah buried her head in Bastian’s shoulder. "I want to stay with you." Her soft, blond curls brushed against his face. She smelled of cinnamon and vanilla.

  Bastian closed his eyes, hugging his daughter tightly. He didn't want to let her go, either. He'd spent much of her early life ignoring her and her mother. Now, he couldn't stand to be parted from her again.

  Farah pulled back. Tears welled in her blue eyes, and her nose crinkled as she sniffled them back. Bastian pecked her nose, his lips now damp with salty tears. "You have to go. I'll be with you soon."

  "Promise me," she whispered. "If you promise, then it means you'll come. I won't have to worry about you."

  Bastian swallowed the lump in his throat. He couldn't make that promise. He didn't know what would happen. One look into her eyes told him he couldn't let her go without reassurance. "I promise I will do my very best to come back to you. I will do what needs to be done here, then I will fly across the sea and look for you."

  Farah's mouth formed a pout as she crossed her arms over her chest. "No. That's not good enough. I want you to promise you won't die again."

  "I promise," Bastian said, hoping with everything in him that he'd be able to keep it. And if he couldn't... then one day she would grow up and understand that he had tried. She would know he did the best he could.

  Farah's arms fell to her sides, but the worry in her eyes didn't dissipate. "Okay, well, then I guess I'll see you soon, Papa."

  He kissed her head, then gently pushed her toward the row of dragons. The vast majority of the people in the Meadowlands were dragons. The few that weren't would ride on the Green dragons' backs.

  The Green had been planning a long time for this. Not only did they have armor for the dragons to use in battle, but they had adapted the howdahs from the Sands. The huge carriages were constructed to keep humans safe on the dragons' backs, even if they fell asleep during the flight. No one had to worry about falling to their death. At least Bastian could take comfort in that. If there truly was land to the west, then his daughter would make it there safely.

  His eyes traveled the crowd, mostly filled with the elderly who had refused to become dragons and the children of Hutton's Bridge, finding Pia cradling Adam in her arms. Bastian strode over to them.

  "So you came to say goodbye to your son?" Pia asked, her tone unforgiving.

  "Yes." Bastian leaned over and kissed Adam's red hair. Within days the boy's hair had curled up as tightly as his sister's. Bastian couldn't help notice the resemblance between the two. He'd never thought Farah looked much like him, but now he could see his looks reflected in both of his children. "I wanted to say goodbye to you, too."

  Pia's angry gaze softened. "I'm sorry about yesterday. I was unfair."

  "We all do and say things we don't mean in times of crisis."

  Pia sighed. "I know there is no future for us. I truly do. Yet, can I be blamed fo
r trying?"

  "No," Bastian said. On another day he might have smiled. "But don't blame me for turning you down."

  Pia shifted Adam from one arm to the other, shaking out her free arm. "I will tell your son stories about you. Those I haven't heard will come from Farah and Hazel. I promise you, he will know his father even if..."

  "Thank you," Bastian said. "I appreciate it." He leaned over and kissed Pia on her cheek.

  The woman flushed, a shy smile on her face. "I guess I should learn a respectable trade once we land in this new place. A prostitute probably wouldn't make for a great mother."

  Bastian shrugged. "It’s up to you, Pia. If you truly loved what you did, then I would never speak poorly of you or stand in your way. You are a good woman. Adam will know that by your actions, not by your profession."

  "Thank you, Bastian. You truly are a good man. I'm sorry it didn't work out between us. Maybe after the war, we could—"

  Bastian placed his fingers on her lips. "Don't let that be your dream or you will be disappointed. Please, dream new adventures for yourself. Other men. You will find a man who makes you happy someday. Don't waste your life waiting for me."

  Pia nodded, looking down at their son. "You have a good father, Adam."

  "Take care of him," Bastian said, choking down another lump.

  "I will. Of course. I will love him like no other. Although there is one more I want to make room for in my heart." Pia looked up from her son, her gaze drifting over to where Farah stood with her friends. "I hope to care for Farah, as well. If she will allow me."

  Her statement surprised Bastian. "I didn't expect that. I'd be very grateful."