by Megg Jensen
Bastian laid Connor on the grass next to Tressa. She knelt down and took his hand in hers. "We're almost out of here," she whispered. "We'll find out where the plague came from, get a cure, and go back and save Hazel and your boys. I promise."
A small groan escaped his lips and a word that sounded something like Hazel. Tressa smoothed his hair and leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. Still cool. Even though he hadn't shown any signs of the plague, she was cautious, concerned the fever just hadn't spiked yet.
She looked up. Bastian was partway through the trees, his sword gleaming as he hacked away at the dead branches that sewed them into the mist. "Can you see?" She called out to him.
Bastian turned, nodded, then quickly went back to work, as if possessed. He didn't falter, didn't stop to rest, just swung and stabbed until a path formed in front of him. A ray of light burst through the trees. Tressa threw an arm over her eyes.
She stumbled to her feet and reached out a hand toward the yellow light streaming through the hole Bastian had created. With both hands, she carefully removed Nerak from her shoulder, letting the little owl fly above her. The purple haze disappeared, but the streaks of sunlight penetrated the fog, slicing it to bits and pieces with each stroke of Bastian's sword. More and more streaks ripped through the air, obliterating the prison that held them.
"Connor, we made it!" She dropped down to the ground next to him. His chest rose and contracted slowly, still proving he was alive. But the catch each time he began to inhale told her he didn't have much time left.
“Hazel called me. In the fog…” Connor’s voice trailed off. His eyelids remained closed. He lay as still as a leaf on a day with no wind.
"Bastian!" She called out.
He turned toward Tressa, raising his hand in the air and waving it back and forth. Then he went back to work.
The sunlight grew brighter. It crept over the dead trees and through the path Bastian hacked free. He sheathed his sword and stalked back to Tressa and Connor. Scooping Connor in his arms, Bastian and Tressa made their way to the edge of the forest.
Freedom.
At least she thought it was until she saw what waited for them on the other side.
Chapter Eighteen
Rows of soldiers stood in front of Tressa. Twelve in all black, the rest in armor. Their eyes glared from within narrowed lids. Noses flared as they took the same measured breaths, their chests rising and falling in unison.
The woman in front took three steps forward. A ponytail swung from side to side, the ends brushing against the ground. Braided, her hair was as thick as Bastian’s leg, but far more dangerous. Sunlight bounced off of the spikes and metal shards woven into her dark brown braid. Her lips curled at the side in a smirk.
“We’ve been waiting for you. Come with us.” She motioned with two fingers.
Tressa didn’t want to follow the strange woman, but Connor needed a healer. She glanced at Bastian. “Should we?”
He didn’t take his eyes off of the braided woman. “Do we have a choice?”
“No, you don’t.” The woman sashayed closer, her hips swaying.
She was dizzyingly intoxicating. Tressa swallowed hard, resting her hand on Bastian’s lower back to steady herself.
“You don’t want to anger me. It would be a most unwise decision.” Her fingertip trailed across Connor’s forehead. A frown replaced the smirk. “He does not have long. If you don’t come with us, he will die.”
Bastian shifted Connor gently in his arms. “Then we’ll follow.”
Tressa put her hand on his arm. “Are you sure?”
“What other choice do we have?” he whispered.
She glanced at the forest, their town lost again in the deep fog. Nerak had flown away with the breaking of the wall of branches. Tressa didn’t know where else to turn.
“You’re right. But as soon as Connor’s healed, we need to leave.”
“And go where?” Bastian asked.
Tressa bit her lip. He didn’t know and now wasn’t the time to tell him. Not with the woman standing so close, eavesdropping on their every word. “Nowhere. I don’t know.”
The woman looked Tressa up and down. Tressa stood firm, tightening her core, attempting to look more powerful than she felt. “Lead the way.”
The woman pivoted, her braid flying out and nicking the hem of Tressa’s breeches. A sliver of fabric fell off in a clean line, floating to the ground
“Stay back a few paces if you don’t want to lose more than that.” She winked at Bastian, leaving her eyelid closed a second longer than was necessary. “I’m Stacia.” She swept an arm out to the side. “This is the battalion under my command. My elite Black Guard, the most feared soldiers in the five kingdoms.”
With a sharp snap of her fingers, the soldiers faced her. “We obey!”
Tressa raised an eyebrow and nudged Bastian. He shot her a severe look, then focused again on Stacia. “If you can help us find a healer for Connor, we will be grateful.”
Stacia smiled, her teeth glinting in the bright sunlight. She reached out a finger, running it along Bastian’s jaw. “I know just how you will repay me.”
Anger welled in Tressa’s chest. She didn’t have a claim over Bastian. In fact, it was still her intention to get him home to his wife and daughter. But watching Stacia feed on him, even if it was only with her eyes, was too much.
Stacia turned her back on them, motioning to her army. They stepped off in formation, marching away from Tressa and Bastian. Stacia didn’t look back at them, only marched beside her warriors.
Bastian leaned over and whispered in Tressa’s ear. “We have to play along if we want to save Connor.”
“How far are you planning on taking it?”
“As far as I have to. Connor’s life is all that matters now.”
She forced herself to face reality. She’d lost Bastian years ago. There would be no going back to what they once had. If he had to give in to another woman to save Connor, then Tressa would have to deal with it the same way she’d coped with Bastian’s marriage to Vinya.
With a heavy heart, she followed Bastian. They’d come too far. They’d escaped the fog that held them. There was nowhere left to go but forward.
Trees towered above them, so tall the world seemed to spin when she looked up at their heights. Dappled sunlight filtered down to them, giving light to the path they walked.
The base of a tree opened up, wider than five men and taller than two stacked Bastians. The army marched through uninterested in the landscape. Tressa paused to marvel at the heartwood inside the bark-covered tunnel. Darkness overtook her, but a light at the other end quickly reminded Tressa she had nothing to fear. At least not from the trees.
Emerging on the other side of the hollow was like entering a new world. Buildings and cottages built into the side of the giant trees cluttered the landscape. A tall building, the tallest of them all, stood in the distance, reaching up into the highest of the treetops. It was a castle. Tressa knew that from Granna’s stories. Perhaps there was a king and a queen. Maybe they would offer help to Tressa and Bastian.
Townspeople bustled, going about their activities as if the soldiers marching in pairs with three strangers was an everyday occurrence.
“Excuse me.” Tressa touched the sleeve of a passing woman. “What is the name of this town?”
The woman’s eyebrows furrowed. “It’s the Blue.”
“The Blue?” Tressa asked. “That’s the name?”
“Where are you from?” The woman looked at Tressa’s filthy clothes and then glanced at Connor, still knocked out, in Bastian’s arms. “Who are you?”
“Come along!” The woman yelled from the front of the procession. “No talking!”
Tressa dipped her head and followed the army into the world she’d never really believed existed.
Chapter Nineteen
The dancer’s hips flowed from side to side, lulling the drunken men into a trance. Bastian sat with Tressa, forcing his gaz
e from the woman’s legs. Tressa’s eyes were cast toward the rough-hewn table, her mead untouched.
Bastian looked at Tressa again out of the corner of his eye. He’d considered risking death more than once just to be with her again.
Tressa’s lashes flitted up, her eyes meeting his. “Are you thinking about Connor too?”
Bastian took a swig of mead. “Yeah,” he lied. “I wish they would have let us stay with Connor in the infirmary. Who knows what they’re doing to him.”
“Saving him, I hope.” Tressa traced a knot on the table with her fingertip. “After he’s well, what do you think that woman wants from you?” Tressa stared at his forehead.
Typical. Since they’d been uncoupled, Tressa hadn’t been able to ask him anything important without burning a hole in his forehead. She’d distanced herself physically and emotionally from him. It hurt him every time, but he couldn’t tell her that.
Bastian shrugged.
“Don’t act like you don’t know.” Now Tressa was staring at his hands.
“I’m not going to assume anything and neither should you.” Bastian took another drink.
“Why do you suppose she was waiting for us? Do you think others from our village have made it out here and never come back?”
“I have no idea.” Bastian glanced at the dancer. She’d discarded a few more articles of clothing since the last time he’d looked. With Tressa sitting across the table, he felt nothing but embarrassment. “We won’t get any answers by sitting here. Let’s go.” He tossed a couple of coins on the table. The physic said he’d been instructed to give them money and that they were to occupy themselves while Connor was examined. Bastian wasn’t sure if it was too much, but it looked similar to what others were leaving at their tables.
Bastian reached out for Tressa’s hand, stopping just short of her fingertips. The closeness he’d felt earlier dissipated after they’d stepped out of the fog. He wanted it back, but the walls had been rebuilt.
They were alive. There was a chance he’d get back to his wife and daughter. Reality resurrected the wedge they’d discarded in the fog. Not just for Tressa, but for Bastian too. He’d spent years perfecting the distance between them.
Tressa grabbed her bag. “Do you think Nerak will find us again?”
The owl. Weirdest damn bird he’d ever encountered. He looked around the bar. Probably wouldn’t be the last strange thing he’d find outside of Hutton’s Bridge. “Don’t know. Maybe she was lost and is back with her family now that we’re out of the fog.”
“Speaking of family,” Tressa began. “I know you’re anxious to get back to Vinya and Farah. I’ll do everything I can to make that happen for you.”
He pursed his lips together. He knew what the right answer was, but he couldn’t bring himself to thank her. Missing Farah was a given. Seeing Vinya again wasn’t something he was sure he wanted.
“Let’s get Connor healthy enough to travel. We can ask the physic for medicine. Everything else comes later.” Bastian led the way out of the tavern into the bustling street. He felt Tressa stand a bit closer to him, but not close enough to touch. Her warm breath floated across his upper arm, quick and uneven. She was nervous too. Not surprising. Her incessant need to prove her independence concealed a delicate soul. He knew better than anyone just how vulnerable she could be.
That was the reason he wanted to wrap a protective arm around her shoulder, but he held back, knowing she’d never allow it.
“Back to the infirmary?” he asked instead.
“We were told to wait here for news.” Tressa wrung her hands. “But I say, yes, let’s go check on him.”
“Let’s go.” Bastian cocked two fingers at Tressa, urging her to follow.
Between jostled elbows and tiny, brown furry animals on rope leashes with eyes as wide as saucers, he and Tressa slowly made their way back to the infirmary. He paused outside the heavy wooden door.
Tressa grabbed the knocker, letting it thud against the dark wood. They waited moments before the door opened only a crack, a bloodshot eye peeking out at them.
“Oh, it’s you two again. He’s not awake yet. Come back in a few days.”
The door slammed shut.
Bastian balled his hand into a fist, pounding on the door. “Let us in. We want to see our friend.”
The door opened again, but before the man could slam it on them, Bastian stuck his foot between the door and the frame. He pushed it open, sending the physic sprawling backward into the room.
Tressa strode in ahead of him. “Where’s Connor?” Her head whipped around as she searched the room for him.
Bastian grabbed the man by his collar. Then he noticed the bed Connor had been on when they left was empty. The sheets were changed and tucked in so tight and cleanly it was obvious no one had lain on them.
“Connor? Who’s that?” the man asked, his voice practically a squeal.
“Our friend. The one you just said wasn’t awake yet.” Tressa closed in on him, her nose only inches from his.
It was never a good idea to annoy Tressa, particularly where Connor was concerned. Bastian gripped the man a little tighter, letting the collar of his shirt dig a little bit more into his neck.
“He’s been moved. Temporarily.”
“Why?” Tressa bared her teeth at the man. She couldn’t hurt a fly; Bastian knew that. Still, she put on a good show.
The other man didn’t. He trembled in Bastian’s grip like a scared kitten.
“Tell us where he is and we’ll let you live.” Bastian said it matter-of-fact. Tressa wouldn’t kill him, but Bastian had no qualms about ripping his head off. His muscles quivered and his blood rushed at the thought of finally unleashing the anger he’d tempered most of his life.
It was hard being born a warrior in a town where peace was paramount. Tressa understood that about him. Her hand found its way onto his bicep, calming him. She knew the effect she had and had exercised it many times throughout their lives. Not since they’d been uncoupled. Those were the three hardest years of his life.
The man sputtered, a tiny trail of spittle leaked from the side of his pursed lips. “I don’t know.”
Bastian squeezed his collar tighter.
“I don’t. The soldiers came back right after you left and took him. I have no say in the matter. I would have saved him if it were up to me. I don’t kill!” Tears slipped out of his eyes and down his cheeks.
Tressa nodded at Bastian. So she believed him. Bastian wasn’t sure he did, but he couldn’t kill the man for no reason. Slowly he let go of the man’s collar.
He scrambled backward, putting two arm’s lengths between him and Bastian’s unclenched fist.
“Can you tell us who took him?”
“Doesn’t matter.” The man shook his head from side to side, his grey hair falling in stringy strands over his eyes.
“Why not?” Bastian asked.
“He’ll never be the same. Not after they’ve taken him.”
Bastian’s heart thundered in his chest. “What will they do?”
The man shrank farther away from Bastian.
He could feel his cheeks taking on a red glow as his anger swept through him. “What will they do?” he repeated.
“I don’t know,” the man stuttered. His eyelids snapped shut, squeezing so tight his face turned into a melted of wrinkles. His fingers pawed at his eyelids, trying to force them open.
“What’s happening to him?” The panic in Tressa’s voice rose with each word.
The physic’s mouth wrenched to the side. Garbled words mixed with vomit spewing from his lips. Bastian put an arm in front of Tressa, holding her back. She ducked, slipping out from underneath it before he could stop her.
“You don’t know what’s wrong with him,” Bastian yelled at her.
She glared at him over his shoulder. “I don’t care. He’s the only one who knows where Connor might be. I’m risking it.”
Tressa slid into to a crouch, avoiding the growing pile of
vomit on the floor.
“Help me.”
“I don’t know how.” Tressa placed a hand on his shoulder. Bastian shuddered, wanting desperately to yank her away from the man. “Tell us where they took Connor. Please.” The desperation in her voice got to the physic. Either that or he knew his time left was short.
“Seek absolution,” he said, his speech garbled.
A large crack startled both Bastian and Tressa, sending her backward into his waiting arms. The physic’s neck fell to his shoulder in at unnatural angle, broken. His chest no longer lifted with life-sustaining breath.
“Dead.” Bastian said. He rested his chin on Tressa’s head.
“Magic,” she whispered. She pushed out of his arms, the immediate shock dissipating.
“Does that surprise you, considering what we’ve seen so far?”
Tressa shook her head. “What do you think he meant about seeking absolution?”
“For his sins?” Bastian asked. “Or for Connor?”
“Or for us? You were about to kill him. I was threatening him. Maybe he thought we were in the wrong. It’s possible he didn’t know anything.”
Bastian nodded. “I think he did, though. He said no one ever came back the same. He was expecting Connor to be like them, whoever they are. This isn’t the first time.” Bastian licked his lips and cleared his throat. He’d stayed silent and stoic most of his life, protecting everyone from his temper. He couldn’t do it to Tressa, not now, not when Connor was missing.
“That’s right. He did say that.” Tressa tapped a finger against her chin, gazing at the dead man. She whirled around, her hands on her hips. “Then we have to seek absolution. Find the nearest holy place. Maybe they’ve got Connor there. Or someone there knows something.”
“Agreed.”
A knock at the door startled them. “Rangar, are you in there? I need some herbs for Mahina’s cough.”
Bastian nodded toward the back of the room and a door. He hoped it led outside. Tressa ran toward it and flung the door open. Bastian tried not to let out a sigh. He would have checked carefully first, before exposing them to whatever lay on the other side. Luckily it was a door to a back alley, just as he’d hoped, and no one jumped in to apprehend them.
