Dragonlands, Books 1 - 3: Hidden, Hunted, and Retribution

by Megg Jensen

  Marden stood next to him, his hand on Bastian's shoulder. "We are." His hand snaked to Bastian's neck. "But if you betray us at any point, I will tear a hole in your chest and rip your innards out with my bare hands."

  Bastian eyed Marden's free hand as it clenched and unclenched. He remembered the blow the man had dealt to his genitals not long ago.

  He wouldn't betray Marden unless it helped free Connor, and then he'd run as fast as he could.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Bastian followed Marden and the rest of the Black Guard down a dark alley. Although the sun was still up, the tree cover above and the buildings built into the forest shaded their march toward the castle. Nine left from the Black Guard and Bastian. They weren't an army, but if they could displace the healers who'd taken control, Marden hoped some of the soldiers at the castle would defect to their side.

  As far as Bastian was concerned all he needed was to get to Connor and the eggs. If they could free them, they wouldn't need anyone else's help. Everyone deferred to the one who controlled the dragon. Bastian had taken the throne without incident once before. Unfortunately this time someone had given them away.

  Elinor.

  It couldn't be anyone else. Only the three of them knew about the eggs. How else could the healers have known their vulnerable spot?

  Marden stopped at the end of the alley and held up a hand. The men readied themselves, hands on swords, waiting for his signal.

  The plan was to storm the castle from the front gates. The hope was that the healers would surrender without incident. Though Bastian knew some of the men were anxious to draw blood.

  Marden held two fingers in the air, then cocked them forward. He rushed into the street, his sword aloft, glinting in the early morning sunlight. The men in front of Bastian grunted and bellowed. Bastian followed, his feet pounding, his heart racing. He'd seen a lot of battle lately, but this was the first time he'd be facing other men.

  He reminded himself he wouldn’t be killing a man for sport. It was to free his friend and the eggs. He wouldn't take a life unless it was necessary. There were many ways to fell a man without stopping his heart from beating.

  The Black Guard didn't have the same standards.

  When the healers at the gate didn't relent, Marden ran two of them through before they could even draw their swords. Blood gushed from their guts, splashing onto Marden's clothes. He didn't look down for even a moment. Instead he bent at the waist and rushed the gates, his left arm cocked in front of him like a battering ram.

  The gate cracked open. A loud metallic sound echoed through the street, calling to the people in their homes. Faces appeared in windows, curious, but not one door opened.

  Bastian gripped his sword tighter. They were smart to stay inside. This wasn't their battle.

  Sweat beaded on his forehead. The healers weren't even prepared and they should have been. Why take control of a castle without the means to defend it? The soldiers stood to the side, letting Marden and his men pass. They wouldn't take part in the slaughter, but they wouldn't stop it either.

  Bastian wasn't sure what to make of any of these men, not the Black Guard, nor the regular soldiers. Did they have no loyalty to anything or anyone? Perhaps they only followed the mighty, even if it meant switching sides twice in one day.

  He followed the Black Guard as they worked their way deeper into the castle. The healers in the black cloaks no longer opposed them. They stood with their backs against the wall. Some cowered on the floor, their fear palpable.

  Still, Bastian kept his sword at the ready in case someone decided to be a hero. He didn't want to kill, but he wouldn't be caught off guard.

  The doors to the throne room were shut but not barred. Marden kicked them open, striding in ahead of the rest of his men. Bastian held back in the hall. He didn't care to face whoever had holed up in there. All he wanted was his friend.

  "Don't hurt me!" a familiar voice called from within the throne room. Elinor. Bastian would know her voice anywhere.

  He sighed, shaking his head. The woman who'd betrayed him. She could stand in line behind Tressa. He was done trying to take care of them when clearly neither needed, nor wanted, him.

  Bastian strode in. "Ignore her," he said. "She's the one who told the other healers how to trap my dragon."

  The men of the Black Guard stood in a semicircle, the tips of their swords pointing toward the marble floor.

  Bastian elbowed his way in front of them, curious what had them so stunned. What trick was Elinor playing on them now?

  What he saw rocked his resolve. It erased his anger. Every drop of blood in his veins ran cold until he thought his skin would crack.

  Elinor was naked, bound hand and foot to a table. Red marks slashed across her body, covered in dried blood. Bastian ran to her side. "Who did this to you?" He stroked her hair and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

  "Bastian." It came out a whisper.

  He stepped back, his sword raised. "Don't move," he told her, though her limbs were pulled so tight she probably couldn't. He brought his sword down on the first set of ropes, cutting her left arm free. "Help me!" He shot Marden an angry look.

  The mountainous man lumbered over and hacked the ropes binding Elinor's feet free while Bastian severed the final rope holding her right arm. Bastian cradled Elinor's head and draped his cloak around her. "Don't move too fast."

  She cracked a small smile. "I won't, don't worry. Who's the healer here?"

  Bastian's heart felt heavy in his chest. Tressa's final abandonment had led him to a whorehouse instead of staying with his friends. "I thought you’d betrayed us," he said to Elinor.

  Her eyes darkened a little. "I wouldn't do that. I thought you knew..." Her voice trailed off as her eyes rolled and she slackened in his arms.

  "I'm sorry, Elinor," he whispered in her ear. "I am so, so sorry. Who did this?" Bastian whipped his head around the room, but there was no one other than the Black Guard.

  "It doesn't matter. We have the throne back." Marden ran a hand over the arm of the throne.

  Bastian laughed. "You think you're going to sit in it?"

  "Perhaps," Marden said, "but I can guard it until an appropriate ruler tries to claim it." His eyebrows furrowed as he glared at Bastian. "That isn't you."

  "I don't want it," Bastian said, assuring him. "I just want my friend."

  "The dragon?" Marden asked. He signaled to his men, and one by one they filed into the hallway.

  "Yes." Bastian looked down at Elinor. "Elinor too."

  "I thought she sold you out." Marden snorted. "It's why the only women I allow my men are whores. Women can cloud your judgment. Make a man weak."

  Bastian looked down at Elinor's golden locks, peppered with flecks of her own blood. His heart felt a familiar tug. Yes, women did influence him, but he refused to look at it as a weakness. In Hutton's Bridge, they'd been encouraged to see sex and marriage only as a means to keep their society trapped within the fog alive. He'd felt something taboo for Tressa, but not for any other woman.

  He had to admit Elinor could spur similar feelings given the chance.

  No, it wasn't weakness. It was his humanity.

  "I have to find the dragon." Bastian lifted Elinor into his arms. She felt so small, so helpless, her head resting against his chest.

  Marden shook his head. "The dragon is mine. You promised."

  "I need to talk to him."

  Marden's laughter bounced off the marble walls. "Talk to a dragon? Are you insane?"

  Bastian had forgotten for a moment that Marden didn't know humans could turn into dragons. It was a well-kept secret in a land filled with magic.

  "I have my ways of communicating with him. Don't forget, no one can take the throne without the dragon. You only have one half of the power, and it's not the half that matters."

  "True." Marden nodded. "I will have my men guard the throne while you and I search for the dragon." He pointed at Elinor. "She stays here. I will have one of
my men compel a healer to help her."

  Bastian glanced down at Elinor. Now that he'd found her, he didn't want to leave her behind. The stairs to the caverns under the castle were too precarious to carry her with him. And there was nothing down there to help her. Only another possible fight with the people who'd taken control of the castle.

  "I don't want Barden in charge," Bastian insisted before he would set Elinor down. The man was a fighter, but he was an idiot too. "Choose someone with more than half a brain." He knew Barden was Marden's brother, but he didn't care. It had to be said.

  To his surprise, Marden cracked a smile. "Understood. Edgar will protect your woman. After we make sure the dragon knows he takes orders from me, you'll get her back."

  "Agreed," Bastian said, shaking the man's massive paw.

  Still, he wasn't so sure he was willing to hand Connor over either. He'd have to figure that out when the time came.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Bastian led Marden and his men down the dank tunnels leading to the underground haven few seemed to know about. With each day, the castle revealed its secrets to more and more people.

  If Elinor hadn't told, could the other healers have been simply lucky, finding the hidden cache? Bastian doubted it. There had to be more he didn't know.

  But all Bastian cared about was finding Connor and the eggs, freeing them. He was no longer the leader of the Blue. He wanted nothing to do with whatever machinations were in progress.

  Bastian and Marden stepped into the cavern where Connor had hidden the eggs. Empty. Not even the stones on the ground showed evidence of the effort it must have taken to drag the eggs out. Bastian had tried to lift one back in the cave in the forest. It hadn't budged. Only Connor had been able to move them.

  Perhaps he'd done it again, but under duress this time.

  He'd do anything for those eggs. Bastian knew his friend's heart. Even if Connor didn't remember his own little boys, he treated those eggs as if they were his children.

  "Where do we look now?" Bastian asked, hoping Marden knew the tunnels under the castle better than he did. "This is the only place I knew of."

  Marden shrugged. "I wish I knew."

  "Don't you know these tunnels?" Bastian asked, incredulous. The man was a member of the most elite security force in the Drowned Lands. He had to have some grasp of the tunnels in and out of the castle.

  "I don't," Marden admitted. "We were told to keep out, upon sentence of death. So I did. I told all of my men to stay away, too."

  A man behind them cleared his throat. It was the man Stacia had been having her way with when Bastian was brought before her, just before she died. "I've been here before. Stacia, she'd take me down here sometimes."

  "This isn't Darren's first time in the Black Guard," Marden said to Bastian with a roll of his eyes. "How long have you known about these tunnels?" he asked Darren.

  A slight blush spread across Darren’s face. "Stacia liked to escape down here sometimes and she'd take me with her. We'd had a relationship." His eyes wide, he looked around at his fellow guards. Most of them stood with arms crossed over their chests or eyes wide. Aland's jaw had dropped. "She said someday she'd marry me." Darren shook his head. "She was lying, wasn't she?"

  Marden nodded. "It's okay. There isn't a moment where all of us haven't been distracted by a beautiful, willing woman."

  The other men grunted in agreement. Bastian had to admit the same. A willing woman was hard to resist. Even though he’d hated Stacia and everything she stood for, he could understand how another man might be tempted by her beauty and power.

  "Do you know of any other places down here that are large enough for a few dragon eggs and a dragon? Somewhere comfortable enough for the highest ranking healer to hide?" Marden asked Darren.

  "Yes," he said. "There is a place where we'd go occasionally. I think it might have the space required to hold a few dragon eggs." He held up a hand. "But I'm warning you. Your eyes have never set on a place like this before. Don't be surprised. And," he paused, a lump bobbing in his throat, "don't judge me for it."

  Marden pursed his lips together. "Lead on."

  Darren led them down dark and narrow corridors. Bastian felt something run across the top of his boots. Remembering how Elinor had laughed at him earlier, he kept his disgust to himself. The rats wouldn't kill him. The men around him were another story. He didn't trust them. He was sure they didn't trust him.

  He squinted his eyes, attempting to glean any solid form in front of him. They'd neglected to bring more than one torch, and being in the middle of the single file group of men, Bastian couldn't see much. Each man put a hand on the shoulder of the man in front of him. It was the only way to assure no one would wander off in another direction.

  They walked for what seemed an interminable amount of time. Bastian's legs were growing weary. Not just from the walking, but also from the night he'd spent with the whore. She'd kept him up in an effort to make more coin. He hadn't argued. Now he was paying for it with more than just the gold he'd taken from Stacia's stockpile of treasure.

  The man in front of Bastian stopped abruptly. Bastian halted and so did the men behind him. So they'd made it to the secret room Darren had spoken of. Bastian's blood pulsed in his veins. His heart thumped a hard beat. Battle might lie ahead. He grasped the hilt of his sword with his free hand. In front of them, a door was flung open, spilling light into the hallway. Someone was there. No one would be stupid enough to leave unattended torches burning. An erratic whistle swept through the air as swords were unsheathed. Bastian held tight to his, leaving it at his leg for the moment. He didn't want to accidentally injure someone in front of him. He could only hope the men behind him were as courteous.

  "An egg!" Marden exclaimed. "And one man. Keep your blades ready, men." He guffawed. "Where there be a dragon egg, the dragon will not be far away."

  One by one, they spilled into the room. The walls were drenched in a blood red ochre. Strange instruments of all kinds hung from the walls. Metallic cuffs. Maces with ends sharpened to a point. Feathers of all shapes and sizes drifted along another wall. Chains hung from the ceiling, swaying with the breeze the men had kicked up storming into the room. Marden turned around, taking everything in. "What is this place? A room of torture?"

  "No," Bastian said. "What would the feathers be used for? Tickling the person to death? And there," he pointed over Darren's shoulder, "that looks like a bed."

  Aland stood next to Darren and gaped at him. "What manner of room is this?"

  "Yes," Marden said, "what exactly did you do here with Stacia?"

  "I don't want to talk about it," Darren said, the blush returning to his face.

  Bastian wasn't sure he wanted to know. He turned to the man hiding in the corner, his arms over his face. Bastian recognized him.

  Connor. As a human. Naked. They'd found their dragon, but only Bastian knew. He'd need to tread carefully. Making his way over to his friend, who sat on a moth-eaten blanket on the floor, Bastian tried to catch his eye. Connor kept his head down.

  He was asleep. Not dead. The slight rise and fall of his shoulders spoke the truth. Bastian crouched next to Connor. "It's me. We'll get out of this together."

  "Is he injured, Bastian?" Marden called from across the room.

  Bastian could have kissed him for the idea. He wasn't good at thinking fast on his feet, but he would take an opportunity when it was presented. "Yes, I believe so. He isn't responsive." He said it as much for Connor's benefit as Marden's. He hoped his friend would follow his lead. Connor was always the smart one. Even though he'd changed when he became a dragon, his instincts were still intact.

  "There were plenty of guards on the outside, but no guards in the throne room with that girl. None down here. Just an injured man and an egg. Strange. What happened here?" Marden asked.

  Connor's hands circled around Bastian's throat, yanking him backward. His chin pushed upward, cutting off his breathing.

  "I happened." Connor's
voice dripped with venom.

  Bastian fought against his friend, more for the benefit of the men of the Black Guard than actual attempt at escape. He wanted them to think Connor was trying to hurt him.

  He knew his friend wouldn't.

  Connor's arm flexed harder. Everything in the room swam in front of Bastian. The feathers on the wall spun in circles.

  Bastian's head screamed at him to fight back, but he forced himself to fight only a little. Not to hurt Connor. To play along with what had to be part of the ruse.

  "I will kill him if you come any closer," Connor said.

  Bastian felt the cold steel of a knife against his throat. Blood dripped. His blood.

  Connor had cut him with a knife he'd stolen from Bastian's hip. It was a superficial wound, but it was a warning.

  Bastian was no longer sure where his friend's loyalties lay.

  Chapter Forty

  Bastian thrust his elbow backward into Connor's chest. His friend grunted. His grip around Bastian's neck slackened. Bastian jumped to the side. Connor leaped to the other side, the knife in his hand.

  "You'll all die. I will kill all of you." He waved the knife in the air.

  Marden laughed. "What can you do against my men?"

  "I can kill you the same as I killed the others." Connor stood still, his eyes narrow, his lips set in a straight line.

  "You killed the healers who took control of the castle?" Aland asked. "If that's true, where are their bodies?"

  Bastian had a sinking feeling he knew. "The dragon?" It was a question. One he already knew the answer to. Connor had exacted his revenge. In this form, Connor had only one focus: to protect his dragon children. Only one egg was here. The others were missing, which explained Connor's unbridled anger.

  Connor's eyes were wild, unfocused. Anger pulsed behind his brown irises. It was a look born of revenge.

  Bastian reached out, placing a hand on Connor's arm, trusting his friend wouldn't hurt him. Not again. "Where is Fotia?"

  Connor glared at him. "Where were you? I needed you last night. We needed you.”