by Megg Jensen
"Ah, so glad you are here." Jacinda held out an arm to Bastian and Elinor, looking down her nose at them. "A pity we didn't have time to get clean clothes for you."
Bastian stood taller, holding Elinor's hand tighter as Tressa and Jarrett turned around. Tressa’s eyes grew wide. She glanced at Jarrett, then back at Jacinda, her eyes finally settling on Bastian. "Thank you for coming," she said simply.
Bastian didn't respond.
Elinor held out her free hand to Jacinda. "Thank you for honoring us with a front row seat to the nuptials. I am Healer Elinor."
Jacinda shook Elinor's hand, then dropped it. She nodded to an attendant who brought her a towel. Jacinda wiped imaginary dirt from her hands. "It is my pleasure," she said, though her tone made it clear it wasn't.
"Now that everyone is here and both of the people being joined have representatives to witness their union, let us begin," Jacinda said.
A holy man stood, his long robes billowing about his ankles. Bastian tuned out everything he said about love. He held in a snort when the priest spoke of faithfulness. But when he invoked the gods to bless the couple with many children, Bastian couldn't help but glance at Tressa. She'd wanted a child so desperately, but was never able to conceive. Her expression didn't change. There was no indication the priest's words had hurt. Maybe she'd moved past that. Bastian didn't feel he would know anymore.
They hadn't had a real conversation in months – not since she’d left him in the secret glade with their parents. Then Tressa's father had sent him back to Hutton's Bridge, effectively lying to him about where Tressa had gone. If he ever saw that man again, he'd beat him senseless. He was a liar and who knew what else.
A woman's high-pitched scream ripped through the crowd.
Bastian gripped Elinor's hand tighter and unsheathed his sword with his other hand. Then he let go and pushed her behind him. Unlike Tressa, Elinor wouldn't try to fight. They'd need her skills as a healer if things got dangerous.
"What's going on?" Jacinda demanded of her guards. They also had drawn their swords, surrounding her in a semi-circle. "You fools, I can defend myself. Go. Find out what's happening so we can get back to the ceremony." She turned to the priest. "Continue."
"Shouldn't we wait until they find out what's wrong?" Jarrett asked, his hand itching at his side.
Bastian was anxious to fight, too. He could understand Jarrett's need to investigate. He was about to suggest they go together, but then a screech ripped through the air.
He'd heard it before in the forest outside Hutton's Bridge, just before he and his people had fought the beasts.
"Kilrothgi," Jacinda whispered, her eyes narrowing. "How did they get here?" She stepped back from the group of them gathered, her eyes blazing. "How dare they set foot in the Sands?"
Jarrett dropped Tressa's hand and reached out for Jacinda. "Not now. You don't know how many there are. You may not be able to fight them alone."
Bastian admired Jarrett's care for his queen, but one glance at Tressa told him there was more he didn't know. She looked uncomfortable with Jarrett's attention to Jacinda.
Jacinda shrugged off Jarrett's hand. "I will meet you back in the throne room after we destroy this enemy. In the chaos, no one will see what I am about to do. This is my home. My throne. They will not infringe on my rule. I will show them who rules the Sands!"
Jacinda threw her arms to her sides. Lightning crackled, striking her hands. In the blink of an eye, Jacinda was gone, and a magnificent golden dragon with black wings stood before them. Bastian couldn't stop the shudder, the fear passing through him. These people, these dragons, whatever their natural form was, were perverse. He glanced around. No one was paying attention to where the dragon had come from. They were all too busy running for their lives.
Jacinda’s massive clawed feet dug into the sand, as she pushed off into the sky, her wings flapping so hard the air pushed Bastian and Elinor to the ground.
Chapter Thirty-One
"What is a kilrothgi?" Bastian yelled to Elinor. His eyes frantically searched the panicked crowd. He'd lost Tressa in the confusion. His sword still drawn, they ran through the masses of people, following in the golden dragon's shadow.
"It's a giant beast from the Hills of Flame. They are bred as killing machines, but there haven't been any loose since before the fog fell on Hutton's Bridge and stopped the war between the dragonlords. It's very, very bad they're making a reappearance." Elinor breathed hard, her boots clomping behind Bastian, her hand holding fast to his. "They have a unique talent. They can mock anyone's voice."
Bastian stopped in his tracks. Elinor bumped into him with a grunt.
"Why did you stop?" she asked.
"Tell me again. What you just said about the kilrothgi."
"They can mock voices, but usually only one word at a time. Usually a name. They use it to draw the victim into their trap."
Anger churned in Bastian's stomach. "I know these beasts. They were hiding in the fog outside Hutton's Bridge. I defeated an entire group of them."
Elinor's eyes grew large. "Kilrothgi in the fog? I never heard of this."
"They must have been trapped there with us, unable to escape. On the way out, I killed them with the help of my people. That was just before the Black Guard took me captive and dragged me to Ashoom."
"Then you know how dangerous they are," Elinor said. "We should run. Jacinda has her own army. There is nothing you can do to help them."
The crowd had scattered into the desert, looking for shelter from the beasts. Bastian and Elinor stood alone. Between them and the castle stood a phalanx of soldiers. Beyond the soldiers Bastian could see more kilrothgi than he could count. Taller than three men on each other’s shoulders and covered in coarse brown hair from head to toe. Above them all flew Jacinda, fire streaming from her mouth and setting kilrothgi on fire. A second golden dragon joined her, but it did not slow the kilrothgi. As one beast fell, another would take its place, swinging and scraping with bloody claws, advancing in small increments, pushing the soldiers back.
Elinor tugged on Bastian's arm. "We need to run, now! If we don't, they'll cut through the soldiers. They'll kill us, too. Kilrothgi will not stop until they've sated their thirst for blood." Panic laced her words. "Please, Bastian."
He looked around once more. Still no sign of Tressa. She must have escaped with Jarrett. "Okay, we'll go find Connor."
"And then we'll leave?"
He knew the question wasn't as simple as it sounded. She wanted to know if Bastian would take time to hunt down Tressa. Whether they were going to save themselves or step in the path of danger to find the woman who’d rejected him over and over again.
"We will leave."
Elinor smiled. “Then let's go." She squeezed Bastian's hand.
"Unless Connor shows up in the sky above us, we'll need to skirt the battle to get back into the castle," Bastian said, sizing up their paths to escape. "We don't know enough about the desert to flee that direction. We could be running to our deaths."
Elinor looked up, bestowing that familiar gaze on him. "I trust you to get us back into the castle."
"Are you ready?" Bastian asked.
Elinor nodded.
"Then stay behind me. I'll protect you. And if I don't make it through, keep running." He laid a hand on her cheek. "Can you promise me you won't try to help me if something bad happens?"
Elinor pursed her lips. "I won't make any promises. Let's just hope it doesn't come to that."
He knew it was the best he'd get from her. "Then let's go." Bastian dropped Elinor's hand, trusting she'd remain behind him as she promised, and grabbed the hilt of his broadsword with both hands.
Sweat trickled down his forehead. It wasn't just the unabated heat. Nerves tingled in every part of his body. He kept reminding himself he'd survived kilrothgi once before and he could do it again. This time he didn't even need to kill them all. He only needed to get Elinor to safety in the castle.
With a howl, Bastian
set off for the kilrothgi marauding through the garden, stomping the plants into the ground. He slashed and hacked his way through, not even stopping to look and see if Elinor was following.
The metallic scent of blood overtook the flowery perfume in the air. Claws bent on death slashed through the warm sandy breeze. Bastian pulled his shirt up over his mouth and nose, preferring to breathe in his own musk than the putrid animal scent of the kilrothgi.
He fought until his eyes blurred and his arms ached. His arms sailed through the air, landing blow after blow, gaining him only a few steps with each whack. Still Bastian fought on, refusing to give up, believing they would make it out alive — until a scream echoed behind him.
One of the kilrothgi nabbed Elinor. She struggled in its grasp, her booted feet kicking and her arms flailing. "Let me go!"
Drool slipped from the side of the beast’s mouth as it gnashed its teeth with a noise so grating it sent shivers down Bastian’s spine. Blinded by the uncountable number of murderous kilrothgi, he pushed through them, stepping on their feet and swiping any who dared touch him with his sword.
Elinor's screams pierced the evening sky and Bastian followed them. Every time he looked up, all he saw were hairy arms and chests and legs, but not even a glimpse of Elinor. The only thing that kept him moving was her screams.
"Bastian!"
"Bastian!"
"Bastian!"
The kilrothgi’s mocking outcries chorused around him, making him even more confused. If he couldn't follow Elinor based on her voice, then he'd lose her to the kilrothgi. He’d already lost his wife to one in the forest outside Hutton’s Bridge. He wouldn’t let it happen to Elinor.
Bastian sheathed his sword, grabbing the long brown hair of the kilrothgi next to him. He climbed hand over hand until he was on the beast's back. The beast swatted at him, but his other kilrothgi took no notice and continued to target the soldiers in Jacinda's army. He searched the sky for Jacinda, seeing she'd circled back and was readying for another pass. Whatever he did, he'd have to find Elinor fast or Jacinda would roast them both.
Bastian searched the mass chaos for Elinor's blond hair, hoping it would stand out among the dark brown beasts. A lock of her hair flopped over the shoulder of a nearby kilrothgi. Bastian grabbed hold of another beast's arm, swinging across their frenetically fighting bodies until he reached the kilrothgi who held Elinor.
"What are you doing?" she screamed. "If you went down, I was supposed to get to the castle and safety. Why didn't you do the same?"
Bastian grinned. "I don't believe for one second you would have left me here to die and I refuse to do that to you."
"This damn beast won't loosen his hold on me. You should go now." Her eyes flashed with anger, but her body, strong and fighting, told him she was glad he hadn't left her behind.
"On the count of three, be prepared to fall." Bastian climbed down the beast and leapt across to the one holding Elinor. "One," he yelled, hoping his voice had carried up to her. Bastian grabbed a handful of the kilrothgi's hair where its legs met. "Two!" With every ounce of energy he had, Bastian twisted his hand, ripping the hair from the most tender part of its body. "Three!"
Elinor screamed as the beast let go of her. Bastian grabbed her arm before she could fall, and he leapt the rest of the way to the ground, shielding her from the impact with his body.
Elinor lay on top of Bastian, breathing heavily, while the kilrothgi bent over, clutching its hairy balls in its hands. "I think we'd better run," Elinor said.
Bastian didn't say a word. They leapt to their feet and ran to the castle, narrowly missing a kilrothgi paw.
Elinor laid a hand on his chest. “We’re alive.”
“Let’s find Connor,” Bastian said, his chest heaving with each word.
“No. This first.” Elinor jumped into his arms and kissed him.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Jarrett yanked on Tressa's hand, pulling her off the dais and away from danger. "Run!" he yelled.
She didn't hesitate, kicking up a cloud of sand in her wake. Bastian will be okay, she told herself. It was the same thing she'd thought when she left him in the forest glade with their parents and when she and Jarrett left Hutton's Bridge for the Sands. It was her mantra, and she knew it to be true. If anyone could handle himself in a battle it was Bastian.
"I don't normally run from a fight," Jarrett admitted to Tressa as they wove through the panicked crowd.
"I know," Tressa said. And she did. He always thought of her first.
Jarrett tugged on her hand again. "This way."
She gave one last glance to the others running in the opposite direction. She trusted Jarrett. He'd never given her a reason not to. They headed farther out into the desert, coming upon a swell of sand. Jarrett helped her to climb the dune. He brushed aside the sand, revealing a door underneath. "It's not a real dune. It's a bunker we built in case there was ever such an ambush. We can hide here until things blow over."
He tugged at the latch. The door groaned, opening slowly. Jarrett clapped his hands, releasing a small ball of light, not unlike the one he'd made when they were hiding in the alley with Henry in Ashoom. It was the night everything changed for Tressa. When she found out dragons were just as human as her. Well, at least some of the time they were.
She followed him in, and he closed the door behind them. "There isn't any water or food, so we can't stay long. Hopefully the fight will end soon. Jacinda's warriors are nothing like the Black Guard. These men have been trained rigorously for battle."
"And we weren't?" Tressa asked, amazed. She'd never worked so hard in her life, practicing from morning until night. She had only to think about it, and her muscles would start aching again.
Jarrett laughed, tossing his head back. "What we did in Ashoom was child's play. My men here could have defeated the Black Guard with a tilt of the head and a swish of the sword. Even Marden, the man like a mountain, would have pissed his pants in the presence of my men."
"Wow," Tressa said, a smile on her face. All this time she thought she'd achieved something impressive only to find out others were far more powerful. She shouldn't have been surprised. After growing up in a village hidden from the rest of the world, her knowledge was miniscule.
Silence fell. Tressa wrung her hands, looking down at them. Remembering she was still in the see-through gown, she crossed her arms over her chest and crossed her legs.
"Seeing Bastian was a surprise." Jarrett said it in a monotone.
"Yes," Tressa said. Surprise was a mild way to put it.
Astounding. Shocking. Unforeseen.
No, surprise would have been saved for her reaction. Or lack thereof.
"As soon as my men defeat the kilrothgi, we'll look for him," Jarrett promised.
"And the woman he was with," Tressa added. She hadn't seen the blond before. The girl was pretty. She reminded Tressa of the woman back in Hutton's Bridge who'd bragged about her liaisons with Bastian. "We will find them both and see to their safety. For now, tell me more about the kilrothgi. What are they?"
Jarrett didn't ask more about Bastian, to Tressa's relief. He motioned toward a simple chair, so utilitarian and unlike anything she'd seen in the castle. She sank into it and closed her eyes. Yes, she preferred this to the finery.
"A long time ago in the Hills of Flame, the king –”
"King?" Tressa asked, interrupting. "I thought all the dragonlords were women."
Jarrett shook his head. "Not at all. A man rules the Meadowlands. A man also ruled the Hills of Flame when the Great War started."
"And the Charred Barrens?" Tressa was curious. Most children probably learned the history of the Dragonlands, but due to her isolation growing up hidden behind the fog in Hutton's Bridge, she knew so little.
Jarrett sighed, stroking his goatee. "The Charred Barrens is a mystery. The land is dead. No one has been seen or heard of from there since the fog fell on Hutton's Bridge."
"Strange," Tressa said.
"I
ndeed. But back to the Hills of Flame. It's always been clear they feel they have the right to rule all of the Dragonlands. To help them achieve their goals, they used dark magic to create evil creatures, the kilrothgi being one of their minor creations."
"Minor?" A shiver traveled down Tressa's spine. "What else do they have at their disposal?"
"I wish I knew," Jarrett said. "I've tried sending spies, but none ever return. I gave up two years ago. It was a waste of life and of good men. I also couldn't bear to see the widows left behind."
Tressa grinned. "You're a good man." She took a deep breath, changing the subject. "How did you end up in Jacinda's bed?"
Jarrett stood and paced, his arms behind his back.
"I'm sorry, that was unfair of me to ask." Silently Tressa scolded herself. What had she been thinking? His past relationships were none of her business.
"No, no, it's fine. I don't mind telling you." Jarrett sat on the ground at Tressa's feet. "Jacinda is a powerful woman. I was young, weak, and fascinated with her. Women in the Sands aren't known for their subtlety, but when the queen shows interest, a man would be a fool not to take notice." He shrugged his shoulders. "She seduced me one night. She made me captain of the guard not much later."
"That couldn't be easy for you."
Jarrett looked up at Tressa, his eyes wide and unblinking. "You know me well. You know the responsibility I feel."
"You weren't trying to keep the position for the power, you were trying to serve your realm." She wasn't guessing. By now she knew Jarrett's heart.
He laid his head on her knees. "It's true. And I did care for Jacinda. I wouldn't say I loved her, nor did I ever tell her I did. Not even a misplaced word in a moment of passion. I think she hoped I would come around. She was lonely after her husband died. A mother raising two sons alone. I had great respect for her."
"You don't love her..." Tressa let the words trail off into the silent bunker.
"I have only ever loved one." He lifted his head. "And that is you."
