by Megg Jensen
“I’m sorry, Papa.” Tressa tasted the sweet word on her lips for the first time. She reached over and patted his arm. “Granna always told me how hard it was for you after she died. It was as if a part of you died too.”
“Yes, well, luckily the two of you haven’t known heartbreak like that,” he said.
Bastian gripped Tressa tighter. All was made right now.
“Lucky us,” Bastian echoed. “Now all we have to do is find a cure for the plague in Hutton’s Bridge.”
“That’s right.” Tressa pushed her hair behind her ears. “We need to find someone with healing knowledge. We’ll find someone in the town to come with us into the fog.”
“It’s a death wish.” Fenn wiped his hands on his trousers and stood. He stalked around the fire. “You can’t go back. Everyone saw Bastian. I saw enough to recognize who he was. It’s not safe.”
“Then I guess we’re going to die.” Tressa ground the dirt with a toe. “We have to get medicine for Hutton’s Bridge. We couldn’t save Connor. We have to save the rest of them. Are you with me?” She looked at Bastian, her eyes wide.
He wanted grab her head, pull her close, and kiss her. “Of course.”
She gave his a tug. “Good, then. Let’s get cleaned up. We can get started on a plan tomorrow morning. Today, we rest.”
Bastian stood up, stumbling a bit as he trailed after her. She was just as fearless as she’d always been. Fighting for their village now, even when the stakes were high. It was what he wanted, too. As always, they wanted the same thing.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Tressa emerged from the cottage into the dark of night, too energized to sleep. Bastian had tired out quickly, snoring only moments after they’d finished making love. Tressa had lain in the dark, eyes wide and thoughts whirling in her mind.
She sat on the log, stirring the remnants of the fire. The ash rustled and surrounded Tressa in a smoky embrace. She shivered in the cool night air.
“Cold?”
She turned and squinted into the darkness. Her father approached, holding out a wool blanket.
“Thanks.” Tressa wrapped it around her shoulders. The grey fibers scratched at her neck. It smelled of the forest – pine needles, damp grass, and decomposition.
“I’m worried about Bastian going into town with you.” Fenn sat on the log next to his daughter. “Too many will recognize him.”
Tressa nodded. “I thought the same. But he’d never agree to waiting here while I went alone.”
Fenn stretched out his legs. His blue breeches made his legs almost invisible in the dark. He took a deep breath. “I have medicine here. The kind that might save the others in Hutton’s Bridge.”
The embers provided little light. The look of shock on her face went unseen. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”
“No one else knows. I wanted it safe, just in case.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not that I don’t trust the others. It’s complicated. You don’t know what it’s been like here. We’re together, but only Jayne and I are committed to the lifestyle. The others might take the medicine in the night, trade it for goods.”
“Where are the others?” Her father had mentioned them more than once, but she’d seen no one other than him or Jayne.
“Out. Collecting food, supplies, that sort of thing. It’s rare for all of us to be here at once. The medicine is something I stole not long ago. I probably shouldn’t keep it hidden, but something deep inside told me to.”
Tressa nodded. “You’re only trying to do what’s right. Just like Granna always did. Even when it wasn’t the popular choice, she made the right one.”
“I knew you’d understand.” Fenn took Tressa’s hands in his. “You’ve grown up to be a wise and beautiful young woman. I’m proud of you.”
A flutter in Tressa’s chest startled her. His approval meant more to her than she thought it would. She’d never missed him because she had Granna. How could she miss someone she’d never known? Yet, here she was, absorbing his attention like a dry sponge.
“Thank you.”
“I’ve been trying for years to get close to Stacia. To kill her. But I haven’t done it yet.” He kicked a pebble into the fire pit. It fell through the ashes as easily as a raindrop through a low cloud.
“Why kill her?” Tressa held back a yawn. The exhaustion of the last few days was finally getting to her.
Fenn gestured toward the trees. “Her mother did this to us. Commissioned her magicians to erect a wall of fog around Hutton’s Bridge. Stacia maintains it. It’s her fault our people continue to suffer.” He slammed a fist into his leg. “If Hutton’s Bridge were free, we could easily get them medicine. It’s just a suicide mission now.”
Tressa thought it through, her mind a jumble with ideas. Her father had medicine they could attempt take back to Hutton’s Bridge. Yet they’d always be imprisoned by the fog and the beast within. Unless someone killed Stacia.
“Instead,” he continued in the silent night, “people are dying. If someone could overthrow Stacia…”
“Maybe I could.” It was only a whisper on Tressa’s lips. Since the moment Connor died so brutally, she wanted Stacia to suffer a similar fate.
Fenn shook his head. “Absolutely not. You’re too unfamiliar with the town. You don’t know enough. You’d never be able to do it.”
“If I could get close enough, I could do it. I know I could.” Tressa’s heart pounded. Connor’s mutilation replayed, the scent of blood still fresh in her memory. Her fingernails dug into her palms. Through the treetops, the stars twinkled at her. She’d never seen them so clear or bright until that moment. The world opened up to her. She was outside the fog in a land most people in Hutton’s Bridge believed was just an old tale. She was living the impossible.
“No.” Fenn placed a hand on her arm. “I won’t allow it.”
She looked at her father, his face covered in the shadows of night. The shape of his chin, the rise of his cheekbones. Yes, they were father and daughter. That much she believed. She would do what he hadn’t. “I’ll leave just before dawn. Don’t tell Bastian where I’ve gone. Convince him to wait here for me. Tell him to trust me.”
Her father nodded. “There’s nothing I can do to stop you?”
“No.”
Fenn wrapped his arms around his daughter, pulling her into a hug. “Then I will pray for your safety. I want nothing more than to see you again.”
“You will. I promise.”
“There is something else I wanted to ask of you.”
“Anything,” she said.
“Did you happen to bring any honey with you from the village? I haven’t tasted it in years. You’d be surprised how much a man misses something so simple.” Fenn laughed.
“I do have some. I’ll leave it for you.”
Fenn smiled. “Thank you.”
***
Tressa awoke in the dark of night. She’d slept fitfully, waiting for the hours to pass and silence to permeate their small encampment. His blanket askew, moonlight touched all the places on Bastian’s body Tressa never wanted to forget. Her gaze lingered for only a moment more. Leaning over, she kissed him gently on the forehead. Once Bastian was asleep, it would take an army to raise him before sunlight.
Knowing that allowed her to do what needed to be done. Tressa slipped her shoes on her feet, pulled her gown over her shoulders, tying a knot in the strings that kept it from falling down and exposing too much cleavage.
She pulled a cloak over her clothes, resting the hood on her head. “I love you,” she whispered to Bastian, “and I’m sorry.”
The wooden door unlatched and opened without a sound, letting the cold air seep in like death’s silent keen. A rustling in the leaves, gave her pause. She rested her hand on the door, waiting for another sound.
Stay. Wait. Help.
Tressa shook her head, hoping the little owl could see her in the dark. She didn’t dare utter a word for fear of waking anyone. Before she could
change her mind, Tressa ran across the open area in the center of the cottages. She darted into the woods.
Walking through the remainder of the night wasn’t easy. Not only was she alone, but she was afraid of what lie in wait for her in the dark. Without the skill or strength to fight back against a battle-hardened foe, Tressa knew she didn’t stand a chance. The cover of night was her only ally and she would use every second of it she could to get to the town.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Bastian woke long after sunrise. He stretched out and reached for Tressa, but only found the wool blanket. He clenched the scratchy fabric. A slow smile spread across his face. Last night had been amazing. They’d made love three times before falling asleep in each other’s arms. He’d hoped for a fourth when he woke up, but she was already gone. Probably starving just like he was.
His stomach growled in response. Bastian sat up and pulled his breeches on. They were still filthy. Covered in Connor’s blood. He’d have to wash them later. Maybe Tressa would keep him company while they were drying.
Running a hand through his ruffled hair, Bastian stepped out into the cool morning. He hurried to the fire, the sweet scent of cooking meat beckoning him closer. “It smells amazing.” Bastian reached out and gave his mother’s shoulder a small squeeze.
She smiled. “Thank you. We do what we can here. You’re lucky it wasn’t lentil soup to break your fast.” Jayne leaned over the fire and turned the spit. “Today we have venison. Fenn felled a deer yesterday before he found the two of you.” She stood up and looked around. “Where is Tressa? Still sleeping?”
Bastian’s mouth watered. “No. She’s already up. Not out here with you?”
Jayne shook her head. “Maybe she took a walk with Fenn.”
“Who took a walk with me?” Fenn asked, walking into the clearing from the tight thicket of trees, an axe hefted over one shoulder and firewood tucked under the other arm.
“Tressa.” Bastian sat down on the log. “Is she with you?”
Fenn didn’t answer. He set down the axe next to the pile of firewood and carefully stacked the rest on top. “She didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?” Bastian asked. He popped a piece of venison into his mouth. He wasn’t quite sure what venison was, but he liked it. A little dry. Nothing like the meat he’d grown up on – pigs and cows were their only source – but it was better than nothing. He licked the juice off of his fingertips.
Fenn stared at Bastian. “I thought for sure she’d tell you before she left…”
“Left?” Bastian sat up. “What do you mean left? Where did she go?”
Fenn looked back at the forest. “Last night she and I had a talk.”
“Yes?” Bastian stood. He stalked over to Fenn. “What about?”
“She was concerned for your safety, Bastian.” Fenn reached down and plucked off a piece of venison for himself. He blew on it, the steam wafting in front of Bastian’s face.
“Where is she?” He held back from grabbing Fenn’s shoulders and shaking him. Fenn was Tressa’s father. He deserved respect for that, though Bastian’s temper was rising and he wanted answers.
“She went back into the fog.”
Jayne gasped and dropped the rest of the venison she’d been cooking into the fire. “Oh no!” She wrapped her hand inside her dress and tried to fish it out without burning herself.
Bastian reached in, grabbed the meat, and pulled it out, quickly dropping it on the dirt. Then he looked back to Tressa’s father. His face was sad. Eyebrows furrowed. Corners of his mouth turned down.
“You’re lying. She wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t leave without me.” Tressa had sworn that last night while they made love. She’d said they’d always be together. That she loved him. That they’d work through this together.
Fenn shook his head. “I’m sorry. I saw her leave. She called the owl.”
“Nerak?” Bastian asked.
“Yes, Nerak. They left together, heading for Hutton’s Bridge.”
Bastian kicked the log he’d been sitting on. It rolled a few inches closer to the fire. His mother placed a hand on his arm, but he shrugged it off. “Damn her!” He spun around and stared at Fenn. “Why? Did she give a reason for this madness?”
“She said she could sneak through the forest with the owl. That she could find her way back and lead the people out.” Fenn sighed. “She was worried you would be hurt like your friend Connor. She said she couldn’t stand to lose you like she lost him.” He paused and took a deep breath. “I told her to tell you before she left. I begged her to.”
“She didn’t. Obviously.” Anger swept through him. He clenched his fists, attempting to stop the tremors. “How long ago was this? Early this morning? Late last night? When?”
“Late last night.” Fenn shook the dirt off a piece of venison, then popped it in his mouth. “She came outside when I was putting out the fire for the night. We had a nice talk about home, but then she started telling me how guilty she felt about Connor’s death.”
“I thought we were going to find medicine first.” Bastian paced, trampling the grass underfoot. “This doesn’t make any sense. Why would she just change her mind and leave for Hutton’s Bridge?”
“She’s a very strong-willed girl. I’m proud of her.” Fenn locked eyes with Bastian. “She was doing this to save you.”
“I don’t need saving.” Bastian picked up a stick and hurled it toward the forest. “I’m going after her.”
“It’s not wise, Bastian,” Fenn said. “You should wait here. You cannot see in the fog like Tressa can with the aid of that owl. Just give her a few days. Hutton’s Bridge isn’t far. It’s possible she can sneak back and get some people out of there quickly. Give her time.”
“This is ridiculous.” Bastian stalked back toward the cottage. He shoved his belongings back into his pack. The same one he’d unpacked the night before.
It was obvious now what he hadn’t noticed earlier. All of Tressa’s things were gone. Her bag, her clothes. It wasn’t much, but her absence now screamed at him. He wanted to kick himself for not noticing before. It would have saved him precious time.
Bastian’s hands shook. She was out there, alone. Well, with that stupid owl, but the bird wouldn’t do anything to help her if that beast came sniffing around again. He kicked the table. Hard. His toe throbbed. He kicked it again. And again until the leg snapped and the table listed to the side.
A knock at the door gave him pause. “Who is it?”
“Your mother. Can I come in?”
He flung the door open. “You can’t talk me out of leaving.”
“I’m not here to do that.” She glanced at the table, but didn’t say a word about it. “I wanted to tell you goodbye. The last time we parted, you were only a small child. I promised I’d come back for you and I didn’t.” Tears glistened at the corners of her eyes.
Bastian reached out and she slipped into his arms. “It’s okay. Someone had to go every year.”
“I didn’t volunteer. Not like Fenn did.”
He wanted to tell her he knew, but he didn’t. No one would ever talk about his mother after she was gone. It was as if she’d never existed. A year later his father died and his Uncle Adam raised him.
She stepped back and grasped Bastian’s hands. “There’s something I want to show you before you leave.” She pulled up the sleeve of her dress. Three long scars ran the length of it, puckered and silvered with age.
“What gave you those?” He ran a finger along the length of them.
“The beast that hides in the fog. When I crawled out, Fenn found me. He stopped the bleeding, otherwise I might have died.” She slid the sleeve down. “I wanted to show you this to give you hope. I survived. Tressa will too. And you will come back.” She smiled, her eyes hopeful.
“I will. I promise.” Bastian kissed his mother on the top of her head. “I need to leave now, though. I don’t want to waste more time.”
“I understand. I’ll see you again
soon, Son.”
Bastian nodded and left the cottage. He took a deep breath and headed through the encampment and into the forest.
***
“They’re both gone now.” Jayne said to Fenn. They had watched Bastian’s back as he entered the forest.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. “I don’t think we’ll ever see either of them again.”
“I hope you’re right.” She leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder. “At least the owl didn’t make any noise when I killed it.”
“Haven’t had owl wings for supper in a long time. Thank you.”
“Anything for you, Fenn.”
“Oh,” he said, pulling something out of his pocket. “Tressa left me a jar of honey.”
Jane’s eyes widened. She blinked. A black slit tore through her blue eyes, changing them to red. She licked her lips with a forked tongue. “We’ve waited many years for this.”
“Our time is about to come.” Fenn smiled and took her into his arms.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
His eyelids felt heavy, like small bags of sand held them closed. Slowly, carefully he opened them. A tearing sensation forced tears into the corner of his eyes, but he didn’t stop. With each miniscule movement, he fought to regain his sight and his consciousness.
He knew he’d been out. For how long, he was unsure. He attempted to swallow. The saliva ripped skin on its way down his throat, taking away the sensation of death. Pain was welcome. It screamed in his ear, forcing him to believe he was alive, even though every sense told him he wasn’t.
He remembered dying. The pain. The blood. The last moment he heard anything and the white light that met him at the edge. He’d accepted it.
And now he was breathing again. Not easily, but the wind of life flowed through his body.
He felt his body with a light touch. The blood and flesh that had been stripped away from him so fiercely had healed. His skin was smooth, unblemished, and softer than that of his children.
