by Megg Jensen
"You're sick," Tressa said, crossing her arms over her chest. "You should have let the poor woman go when she died."
Donovan's face fell. "But I love her. I'm only trying to make up for my mistakes."
Tressa sized up the man. His logic was twisted beyond understanding.
The rumbling under Tressa's feet grew more insistent. Donovan’s army was almost upon them. Perhaps this was to be her end, then. Exhausted, Tressa turned her back on Donovan and walked away.
"You can't hide," Donovan sputtered after her. "We will find you, and I will have your skin whether you want it or not. You will live on, Tressa."
She ignored his insane rambling. No amount of arguing would change his mind. She jumped, turning into her dragon. If he wanted her skin, then the only skin he would get was her dragon scales. He would never have her human skin.
Tressa came about to face Donovan. Wings flapping, she opened her jaws and took a deep breath, but before she could let out a stream of fire on the man, a voice in her head stopped her.
Tressa!
Bastian? Tressa whirled around. Bastian's magnificent Green dragon stood on the ground behind her, Connor's sapphire one next to him.
You aren't alone, Bastian said.
The air shimmered behind Bastian and the Vulture's Tower army came into view, thousands of them on horseback, their gray cloaks flapping in the breeze.
But that wasn't all. To their right flank, Granna sat on a tall, black horse, surrounded by a phalanx of warriors on horseback, swords in their hands. Black dragons flew in the rear. Behind them, a Yellow dragon advanced above another long line of warriors on foot, spears and shields at the ready. There were even a few Red dragons.
If Tressa had been in her human form, she might have shed a few tears. They'd come. All of them. Bastian, Connor, Granna and the Black, and the Red, as well as Destrian from the Yellow and his warriors. Her keen eyes scanned the ranks, noticing a small cluster of men in black cloaks. The Black Guard from Ashoom. It was everyone. Well, everyone except the Green.
A cry in the distance pulled the eyes of everyone gathering before Tressa. A cloud of dark emerald grew closer until Tressa could make out the shapes of individual dragons. Hundreds of them flying from the northwest, far more than the numbers she’d seen in The Outpost. They came back. But how?
The Green! They're here! Tressa thought to Bastian. You did this?
I may have had something to do with it. Bastian said. We badgered everyone until they agreed to help. It took a great deal of coercion and time.
Time? Tressa asked. It hasn’t been long enough for you to travel to each of them. How did you manage it?
Bastian’s giant jaws parted, revealing a toothy dragon grin. It took a very long time. I’ll explain later.
Another dragon landed next to Connor and nuzzled him. Their necks wound around each other with genuine affection. It had to be Hazel. Tressa had heard her old friend was a dragon now, too.
Avital, Jarrett's brother, pulled up on his horse alongside Tressa.
She changed into human form, standing next to the man who had threatened to kill her in defense of his brother.
"I am sorry I didn't trust you before," he said, offering her his hand. "My love for my brother clouded my vision. I couldn't believe he had been turned to evil, and I had only you to blame."
"I understand." Tressa leaned over, kissing Avital's cheek. He and Jarrett had shared the same mother. They'd been close their whole lives. "I don't blame you for the way you acted. I loved your brother, as well. I am so happy you came here to fight with us."
Avital nodded, backing his horse up, leaving Tressa’s attention on the battle. The time for pleasantries had come to an end. Donovan's army was coming at them fast. Skeletons brandishing swords. Kilrothgi, the giant hairy beasts that once lived in the fog outside Hutton's Bridge. Around them were undulating shadows. The shades. Rock gollums lumbered behind, waving huge cudgels. Decarian brought up the rear, a sickening grin on his huge face. His four horns glinted under the light of the blood moon.
Donovan had regained enough strength to change into his dragon while Tressa’s back was turned. He flew away from them toward Decarian's forked tongue. Tressa wished Decarian wouldn't recognize his master and would eat him instead, but sadly that didn't seem likely. Donovan pulled up alongside Decarian, his body barely larger than Decarian's massive head.
Tressa ran to Granna and Mestifito. She stopped alongside them, out of breath.
"If Donovan dies, will you get your dragon back?" she asked Mestifito.
"No. It is Donovan's to control now." Mestifito looked to Granna, her silver hair streaming down her back. "I will not regret being a human for the rest of my life if it means I get to live it with Sophia."
Granna laughed. "I am an old woman."
"I am over five hundred years old," Mestifito said. "Your age won't bother me."
The couple’s affection in the face of death amused Tressa. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the patience for it now. "Then I have your blessing to kill your brother?" Tressa asked Mestifito.
His eyes steeled. "If I don't kill him first."
Tressa nodded, jumping into the sky and taking flight as her dragon.
Mestifito’s permission was all she needed. Now nothing stood in her way. Donovan would die.
Tressa let forth a stream of fire, punctuated by a roar from deep in her belly.
She was answered by the clanking of the skeletons’ weapons and Decarian's laughter.
Now the battle for the Dragonlands would begin. Tressa hoped those she loved would still be standing at the end.
Chapter Forty
Tressa's heart pounded erratically with the clash of swords between the skeletons and the humans on horseback. Granna called out maneuvers to her people, who fought bravely. They had come to their senses and were giving it their best. Skeletons broke apart and fell, littering the ground, making it hard for the horses to walk. Hobbled, many of the horses fell to their knees, their riders still trying to fend off the unending swarm of skeletons.
The dragons flew above the fray, advancing toward the kilrothgi. Tressa breathed fire at the kilrothgi closest to her, igniting the hairy body. The beast swung its cudgel, nearly swiping the side of her head. She dodged left and attacked again.
Shadows undulated around them, rising from the ground as one. Swirling like a tornado, the shades reached out with wispy tentacles, grabbing a Red dragon by the throat and yanking it to the ground with a loud thud and a snap. The dragon lay limp, dead.
A horn blared in the distance. Tressa looked away from the kilrothgi. Decarian held a bone horn to his lips and blew again, a discordant sound that grated Tressa's ears, but seemed to rally the skeleton army. They fought even harder against the humans, pushing them back. People began to fall in great numbers, hacked to pieces by the skeletons’ weapons.
Tressa searched the field, finding her great-grandmother's silver hair streaming like a pennant. Mestifito fought valiantly next to her, their swords working in tandem to destroy the enemy. They were alive, still.
Tressa turned back to the kilrothgi, setting another on fire. The pungent scent of the beast mixed with the smell of burning flesh. Tressa wrinkled her snout and drew back. Wary, she surveyed the field. There were too many enemies. They kept coming at them in waves, never tiring, and their undead souls unafraid of death. Still, the dragons fought back, despite weary wings and sore biceps. Though exhaustion, hunger, and thirst enveloped them, the humans and dragons fought against their enemies, refusing to give in.
"Pull back!" Granna shouted, waving her sword in a circle. She spurred her horse, taking off for the west, encouraging her warriors to retreat to a safe place where they could regroup. Tressa and the other dragons followed. They landed, quickly changing into their human forms.
"Even with our brave allies, we can't keep this up." Krom took deep breaths, his hand pressing against a wound on his hip. Blood rolled down his leg, saturating his bloodstained pan
ts. "We are vastly outnumbered." He looked up at Tressa. "We cannot win this."
Tressa steeled her fists at her sides. "We can't give up. Not now. We've come so far. Running away won't accomplish anything."
"Tressa, my sweet." Granna laid a gentle hand on Tressa's shoulder. "We have done our best. We have fought most of the day without gaining ground on the enemy. Still, they advance. We tire, while they gain strength. We have done all we can."
Tressa looked at the crowd gathered before her. Marden, from the Black Guard, looked at her expectantly. His brother Barden had fallen to a skeleton. Long ago, he'd treated her with contempt. Now Marden looked to her for guidance.
Krom applied pressure to his leg with a torn strip of cloth. Hazel's hand was tucked in Connor's. Tressa knew her thoughts were with her children across the sea. They were safe, at least—unless Donovan chose to pursue the dragons even further.
In which case, none of them would ever be safe.
Everyone was waiting for Tressa to speak.
She didn't know what to say. Bastian slipped an arm around her waist, and she leaned into his strong chest, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. This was it. The moment she would give up. She had been wrong all along. People had died because of her poor decisions. She was nothing more than a simple girl from a small village. Tressa Webb was a weaver. Not a warrior. Not a leader.
"I think..." She looked up into the sky, searching for words, then stopped. "Alden!"
She waved to the ghost dragon. He had returned, at last, his army behind him. The others around her looked up at the sky. Even though she knew very few of them could see the ghosts, Tressa didn't care. She jumped into the sky, taking to her dragon and flying over to her friends.
Where have you been? she asked.
We didn't know if we could be useful to you. We left to search for answers, and it turns out we are more powerful than we knew. Watch this! Alden flew toward the advancing skeleton army. His wispy body ripped though the mass of bones and swords, skeletons crumbling to the ground in his wake. A collective gasp went through the humans on the ground.
Alden flew back to Tressa's side, a huge smile on his snout. We traveled back to Hutton's Bridge one last time to visit the bodies of those who had died and been commended to the fog. One of my dragons flew through their bodies, and then something beautiful happened. Their souls were released. It was then I thought perhaps we could do the same to the undead army here. Donovan has trapped their souls, much as he trapped ours. Today, we will finally give them rest!
He took off again. This time his dragons followed. They swept through the skeletons, collapsing the undead army. The remaining kilrothgi roared. Even the shades cowered from the ghost dragons, retreating behind Decarian.
Tressa didn't have to tell her people what to do. They saw. They knew. With renewed fortitude, Tressa's friends rushed at the beasts, scrambling over skeleton bones toward the kilrothgi.
Bastian, Connor, Hazel, and the other dragons took to the air, following Tressa into the fray. They blew fire and attacked with their talons, gaining ground and pushing the kilrothgi back. Those on foot attacked the kilrothgi at their ankles, stabbing until they stumbled and crashed. The dragons finished them off with fire. Each time one of the kilrothgi fell, the warriors on the ground cheered.
Hope swirled in Tressa's chest. They could do it. They could win. Once the kilrothgi were roasted and the rock gollums shattered, they needed only to defeat Decarian. Then there would be no one to protect Donovan. No one to heed his call to war.
She fought hard, not holding back against the kilrothgi and gollums. She blew fire and scratched with her talons until every last one of them was defeated.
Then, suddenly, a strange calm fell.
No more skeletons. No more kilrothgi. No more gollums.
All lay crumped on the battlefield.
Donovan and Decarian had retreated farther to the east, closer to the place where he had held Tressa captive.
Tressa landed next to Bastian. The two changed into human form. Tressa leapt into Bastian's arms, resting her head on his chest.
"It's almost over," Bastian said.
Tressa glanced over his shoulder. The rest of their warriors were making their way to them.
"You're exhausted." Bastian kissed the top of Tressa's head. "I think you need to stay back while we fight Decarian."
"No. Absolutely not." Tressa pulled back, glaring at Bastian. "I won't."
"Then let me lead this wave." Bastian took a deep breath. "The Green brought me back to life. They claimed I am the warlord their sacred texts prophesied. They said I'd lead them to a victory. It's time I accepted the mantle."
"Bastian." Tressa rested a hand on her lover's cheek. "I am fine with you leading us. I trust you with my life and the lives of others. But I don't want you to fly into battle with Decarian thinking you have the advantage because of a prophecy. That's foolish, and it could get you killed."
"I promise I'll be careful. Trust me." Bastian ran a hand over her hair. He leaned down, kissing Tressa with passion.
When she finally came up for breath, her face was flushed and her hands shook. "That felt like a last kiss."
"It wasn't. It was a promise for the future." Bastian smiled. "Do you really think I'd leave you now? After everything we've been through to get to this place? I went into the fog with you because I couldn't bear to let you walk into danger without me. The same holds true now. We are partners, Tressa. Then. Now. Forever."
Tressa tore her gaze away from Bastian to welcome the leaders from the other dragon hordes. She couldn't shake the feeling that defeating Decarian wasn’t going to be as simple as Bastian claimed.
Chapter Forty-One
As her army advanced, Tressa watched Bastian take flight, Connor flanking his left side and Destrian, the Yellow dragon, to his right. The three would go after Decarian, leaving the other dragons to rest before attacking Donovan from the air, while the humans surrounded him from below.
Donovan and Decarian would not make it out alive. Not today. Not ever. The battle was almost won, the enemy nearly defeated with minimal casualties on Tressa's side. The ground ahead of them lay littered with bones, rocks, and singed hairy beasts. Donovan's losses had been great. Despite their disadvantages, Tressa’s army had suffered minimal casualties.
Bastian, Connor, and Destrian flew in circles around Decarian. The giant demon swiped at them with sharp claws, bellowing in amusement at their attempts to dizzy him. Every time Decarian reached out toward one of them, another dragon would dart in to strike at Decarian's eyes. If they could blind him, perhaps they could compensate for Decarian’s superior strength and endurance.
Tressa kept an eye on the army around her as they skirted the side of that battle, heading toward a retreating Donovan, but her focus was on Bastian. The dragons darted in and out of Decarian's reach, striking every chance they had.
But it wasn’t enough. Decarian reached out, grabbing hold of Destrian's wing, yanking the Yellow dragon toward him. He whipped Destrian toward his jaws, biting off the Yellow dragon's head, and then throwing Destrian's limp body to the ground. It landed with a thump on a pile of rocks that had once been a gollum.
Tressa held back tears. Not another. She harbored no love for Destrian, but he’d come to help them of his own free will. That was more than enough for Tressa to be eternally grateful.
Her heart pounded as Bastian and Connor continued their assault on Decarian. They struck ever harder, not letting up despite the loss they'd suffered. Tressa fought the urge to fly to them. Her place was with the army targeting Donovan. She trusted in Bastian and Connor's skill and strength to see them through.
Tressa looked ahead. Granna and Mestifito led the army through the destruction. Their horses stepped slowly and carefully over the rubble, careful not to sprain an ankle.
Granna waved to Tressa, a smile on her face. They were all feeling confident, now. Not much longer and they'd finish the day with a victory.
&nbs
p; Tressa waved back to her great-grandmother. She squinted, examining a strange shadow as crept up behind Granna. She disappeared within mere breaths, her waving fingers the last to go, leaving only the echoes of her painful wails into death.
Tressa gasped.
Then Mestifito vanished, and then finally, their horses.
The shades slithered through the army, swallowing each person and animal in their path, spitting them out as corpses as they moved on to their next victim.
Tressa screamed, turning her horse around. She gestured to Krom, who had taken position at the rear. She urged those around her to turn, too.
Their panic was contagious. Sensing their riders' agitation, the horses forgot their careful steps and stumbled back through the battlefield, their nostrils flared and wet as they ran for their lives. Tressa cursed Donovan, and herself. She had been foolish to assume the ghost dragons had banished them permanently. They'd only been waiting to strike again.
Tressa glanced over her shoulder. The undulating shadow oozed along the ground, leaving dead bodies in its wake, including Granna and Mestifito. Tressa shook with anger. More loved ones lost in this damn war with Donovan. Did he even know he'd killed his own brother? Did he care, or had he lost all of his humanity?
Only the ghost dragons headed toward the shades instead of away. They swept through the inky blackness. Instead of wiping out the shades as they'd done with the skeletons and gollums, the shades did not retreat. They swallowed the ghosts whole. The misty dragons simply disappeared.
"Alden!" Tressa cried out. "Stop! They're dying!"
The ghost dragons of Hutton's Bridge were quickly losing to the shades.
Your blood stopped the shades before, Alden said. But you cannot sacrifice yourself today. You must live to win the battle.
Tears streamed down Tressa's cheeks. She remembered how the blood from her dragon had killed the shades who'd attacked her in Desolation. Maybe Alden was wrong. Maybe there was something she could do.
