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

by Megg Jensen

  Tressa turned around. "Thank you," she said with a smile.

  The toothless woman cocked her head and winked. "We've all done it, sweetie. I already sent my daughter to get a shirt for you from our cottage. It won't match your pants, but it will cover you."

  A voice cleared behind her. Tressa turned back to the semi-circle of three men and two women.

  "Do you truly mean what you say?" a man asked. His brown hair fell across his brow. Freckles dotted the bridge of his nose. He couldn't have been much older than Tressa, yet he spoke for all of them.

  "I do," Tressa said. "I know what the Red and Yellow did to you. I've been to the Meadowlands before and three of your children escorted me to the border, asking me to help set you free. They insisted I was a dragon and could do it, but at the time I didn't know I had dragon blood in me. I've only recently learned to change. I promised them if I ever learned how to free your people, I would."

  "And you know how?" a blond woman with pale skin asked. She set her hand on the shoulder of the freckled man.

  Tressa shook her head. "I do not. I was hoping one of you could tell me. I'll do whatever it takes."

  "We don't know either," the freckled man said. The others shook their heads. "If we knew, we'd have lifted the barrier long ago. They used mages, and though we are plentiful with dragons—” laughter spread through the crowd, "— we have no mages."

  "If I can find someone to break the barrier, will you fight with us?" Tressa asked. "Honestly, the war may come to you whether you want it or not."

  "It is true," the woman said to the freckled man. She gazed at Tressa, her green eyes piercing. "I am sorry. We haven't introduced ourselves. I am Blythe. This is Renny," she said, glancing at the freckled man. "The others are Valdus, Wyman, and Sage." Blythe looked at Renny. "Should we tell her?"

  He nodded. "Come." Renny held his arm out. "We have something to show you."

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The toothless woman tossed Tressa the shirt she'd sent her daughter to fetch. Tressa pulled it over the cloak, shoving her arms through the sleeves, then pulled the cloak down. She handed it back to the woman with a smile and a whispered thanks. Renny led Tressa away from the town center. The other four followed Tressa while the rest of the city went back to its day.

  They approached a large barn. Renny motioned Valdus over. Together, they lifted a heavy wooden bar from two iron brackets.

  Renny grabbed a torch from inside the barn, lighting it on the brazier just outside. Tressa followed him in the huge doorway, orange and yellow light bouncing off giant structures made of silver.

  "We were afraid war would come to us," Blythe said. "So we decided to be prepared."

  Tressa held out a hand, resting it on the cool steel. Her fingertips followed the edges, coming to a point at the end. "It looks like—”

  "It is. Armor. For dragons," Renny said. He clapped Wyman on the shoulder. "Wyman and his men in the forge made it for us. They started the day after the barrier was raised."

  "Tis true," Wyman said. "Every last scrap of metal we could salvage was melted and used to create this armor. It was our only protection. Without the ability to send our people to other lands for training with mages, we were left defenseless."

  Blythe nodded. "Everyone thought we were changing our people into dragons to prepare for a battle. That's not why we did it."

  "Then why did you?" Tressa asked. "It's not a comfortable process to undergo. I've had a lot of trouble adjusting." She picked up a series of steel spikes with a leather belt hanging from the sides. Imagining what it would have been like to have armor like this during the battle with the Red, Tressa couldn't help but wonder if they'd have lasted longer than they had. Instead, many had lost their lives. Too many to count.

  "We did it so we would all be equals. And if someone didn't want to be changed, we left them alone." Blythe sat on a nearby bench. "The last thing anyone wanted was to take away the freedom of choice."

  "But what about the children?" Tressa didn't mean to press, but she wanted to understand their motives better in case she was ever questioned about her association with them. "When I was here last, I met a set of siblings. They told me all babies who aren’t born as dragons are changed. None of them had the choice."

  Renny turned his back on them, his torch burning low. "You said you could help us. How long will it take for you to be back with someone to set us free?"

  "I'm not sure," Tressa said. She eyed Blythe, who had ignored her last question. They weren't telling and she had no leverage to make them talk. Still, the Meadowlands were willing to help her. That mattered most. "I can fly back to the Charred Barrens. It will take me most of the day and into the night to get to their stronghold."

  "Interesting," Renny said, leading the way out of the barn and closing the door behind them. Valdus assisted him with putting the bar back down. "We thought the Black dragons were dead."

  "We aren't." Tressa marveled at how quickly she'd adjusted to thinking of herself as one of them. Despite living in Hutton's Bridge for the majority of her life, she'd taken on the Black as her new family. She'd never felt at home anywhere. Now, with Fi, Tressa felt she'd finally found a place to call home in that underground city.

  "Scouts were sent to the Charred Barrens many, many times over the years. They found nothing. Where were you hiding?" Blythe asked.

  Tressa shrugged. If they wanted to keep their secrets about why they turned children, then she would keep the secret of her people.

  "I'll be back as soon as possible with someone who can take down the barrier." Tressa held out her hand.

  Renny pumped her hand twice. "We look forward to it."

  "And you'll fight with us?" she asked.

  Blythe smiled. "Absolutely. It's time to teach the Red and Yellow exactly what we think of them for locking in us up in here." She laughed, her head tossing back. "It's as if they think we're as dangerous as the people who once lived in Hutton's Bridge."

  "Dangerous?" Tressa asked. She'd heard many stories about her town, but this was a first.

  Blythe looked at Renny. He nodded. "Tell her."

  "Well," Blythe said, "There is a theory in the Meadowlands about Hutton's Bridge. When the fog fell, we were all immediately cut off from Hutton's Bridge. It also kept us from reaching the rest of the Drowned Country without going by boat, which takes a long time from our ports. But one of our men decided to investigate. He returned more than a moon later, beaten, damaged, and on the brink of death. My great-grandmother cared for him, nursing him back to health. While he was recovering, he would have deep, dark nightmares, where he would scream about a young girl who tortured him in the woods. He swore he never made it to Hutton's Bridge, because he'd been lost in the fog. And he never spoke of this girl when he was awake. It was only in his darkest nightmares when he would speak in his sleep."

  "Did he ever say the name of this girl?" Tressa asked, curious. It was unlikely she'd recognize any name they gave her, but still her curiosity won out.

  Blythe nodded. "Oh yes, I know her name very well. My great-grandmother told me on her deathbed many years ago. She wanted someone to know, just in case it was important. In case the fog around Hutton's Bridge ever changed. And if the rumors are to be believed, it has."

  Tressa raised an eyebrow, waiting for the name.

  "The name of the girl who'd nearly killed him was Sophia."

  Tressa's eyes snapped wide. "What did you say?"

  "Sophia," Blythe said. "Do you recognize the name? It's a common enough name for the time, though not many name their children that anymore. It's very old-fashioned."

  "Yes." Tressa gulped. It had to be a coincidence. "I do."

  Blythe shrugged. "Anyway, that was a long time ago. I doubt she's still alive, torturing innocent men. She'd have to be positively ancient."

  "Well," Tressa said, quickly changing the subject, "I should be off if I want to make it partway to the Charred Barrens before it’s too late. I'll be back soon with help."
/>
  "I hope so," Renny said. "We're a little anxious to have our lands opened once again."

  Tressa jumped into the air, letting the borrowed shirt fall to the ground. She would take nothing from these people until she was sure she could help them. Besides, the less she carried, the faster she could fly. She needed to return to Hutton's Bridge before Bastian asked the woman in the tree to bring back the fog.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Tressa landed in the village square at Hutton's Bridge in the dark of the night. She changed into her human form and took off in a run to her old cottage she'd shared with Granna, covering her naked breasts with folded arms. She quickly slipped into the cottage, closing the door behind her.

  Moonlight bathed her old home in white light. Tressa pulled the wardrobe open, donning one of her simple gowns. She sat on her bed, dust puffing out of the mattress. Sneezing, Tressa pounded on it until the dust no longer burst forth. She lay down on the bed, letting exhaustion overcome her. Her heart slowed with each subsequent breath. Her eyes fluttered shut. There was nothing but the silence of the night.

  Finally. Peace.

  Until a fierce knock broke the quiet.

  "Come in," Tressa moaned, her arm over her eyes.

  The door rattled. "Tressa, it's me, Bastian. Open the door."

  She groaned, getting up from the bed. She looked back at it longingly before opening the door. "I said you could come in."

  Bastian and Connor pushed past her, closing the door behind them. "It wouldn't open," Bastian said. "Not for anyone."

  Connor lit the candles with a burning stick he carried. When he was done, he shook out the flame and set the stick down on the table.

  Tressa rubbed her eyes at the flickering light. All she wanted was a few hours sleep. "Can this wait?"

  "No," Connor said. "It can't."

  "Okay." Tressa sat on the bed, motioning for them to take chairs. If Connor said it was important, then it must be. "What's going on?"

  Ignoring her gesture, Bastian rifled through Granna’s bookcases, pulling out books, flipping through them, and placing them back on the shelf.

  "Isn't it a bit late to look for something to read?" she asked.

  "No one has been able to get in here since you left," Bastian said. "Except once. Udor got in, took a book, and after that the door wouldn't budge."

  "It's under a spell," Connor said. "We think your great-grandmother hid something in here."

  "I know it's under a spell," Tressa said, stifling a yawn. "Jarrett told me that when we first investigated the village."

  Connor glared at her.

  "I'm sorry," she said, placing her hand on Connor's arm.

  He yanked his arm away. "We couldn't get in. Only you could open the door. Now that you're back, we can search."

  "Fine." Tressa rolled her eyes and settled back into her bed, pulling the blanket up to her chin. "Close the door behind you when you're gone." She closed her eyes, but Bastian and Connor's sloppy search kept her awake. Tressa threw the blanket off and sat up.

  "What exactly are you looking for?" she asked.

  Bastian didn't look away from the bookcase as he explained. "The book Udor took from the cottage was missing a few pages. We need those."

  "Why?" Tressa asked. She rubbed her eyes again. Exhaustion couldn't even begin to explain how she felt. Couldn't she get just one night of peace?

  "The book told the story of why Hutton's Bridge was surrounded with fog. Yet the story wasn't done and the pages were missing. We need them,” Bastian said.

  "It's history. Why does it matter now?" she asked

  "Are you going to be here in the morning?" Bastian asked pointedly. His eyes locked with hers. "We didn't even know you were stopping here tonight. When Connor mentioned he'd seen a light in the cottage window, we came here immediately. If we come back in the morning, will you be here?"

  Tressa pursed her lips. She eyed the two men who'd been her best friends her whole life, who now stood in front of her as strangers. She wanted to help them, but she needed sleep so she could find her way back to the ruins and ask for help with taking down the barrier around the Meadowlands. Then they'd have access to the armor too.

  "Give me one good reason to stay."

  Bastian looked at Connor, who shrugged his shoulders. "Okay," Bastian said. "Farah said she saw your great-grandmother when the villagers were held captive by the Red. It got me thinking that maybe there's more to this conflict than we thought. If I could find those pages..."

  Tressa's shoulders dropped. Another accusation against Granna. The woman was infuriating. Maddening. But evil? Tressa couldn't believe it. There had to be another explanation. "Okay. I'll stay until the pages are found." She stood and set to looking through the bookshelf. Their search quickly came up empty.

  "There's nothing here," Tressa said. She sat on the bed next to Connor, laying her head on his shoulder. He stiffened. Tressa popped up. She'd forgotten about how he'd changed. Her feelings for him had remained the same, despite everything that had happened, but he obviously didn't feel the same way about her. It was so strange. Her best friend was alive, but their relationship had shifted. Possibly for good.

  "If we had all the pieces to the story, we might be able to understand everything better. Maybe then we'd know why the dragonlords continue to battle one another. And maybe it could help us end the wars." Bastian paced the small cottage, managing only a few steps before the wall forced him to turn again.

  "I know what they are fighting over," Tressa said, "but not why. It's the honey."

  "The honey?" Connor perked up, his eyes wide. "I don't remember everything, but I do recall working with the bees before we entered the fog. Why would they want the honey?"

  "I don't know," Tressa said. "No one will enlighten me either. I think Granna knows..." she trailed off, knowing how that must sound.

  "Unfortunately, she's gone and can't answer your questions anymore," Bastian said.

  Tressa clenched and unclenched her fists buried in her lap. "Actually..."

  "What?" Bastian asked.

  Connor looked at her expectantly.

  "Granna's not dead," Tressa said.

  Bastian's jaw dropped. Connor didn't look surprised, his face calm. Perhaps he understood better than anyone how easy it was to beat death.

  "How long have you known?" Bastian asked.

  "Not long," Tressa said. "Only after I left Ashoom when I was sick. Fi took me to her. Granna's been in the Black."

  "But her body—” Bastian looked at Connor. They had carried her together after her viewing, commending her to the fog. Connor's face remained neutral. Another hole in his memory. "She was dead, Tressa."

  "So was I," Connor said, "and yet I'm here."

  "That's different," Bastian said. "I didn't hold your cold body in my hands. Trust me, Sophia was dead." Sweat dripped from Bastian's hairline.

  Tressa fought the urge to reach out and wrap her arms around him. Even though they'd drifted apart, she had to admit she still loved the man. Not in the same desperate way she had before, though. "I know she was. But there are things the dragons can do that go beyond anything we were taught as children. The world isn't as we were told."

  Bastian took a deep breath. "And that's what I've been trying to tell you. Sophia is withholding information. You have to ask her about the honey."

  "You think I haven't?" Tressa asked. She'd asked Granna so many questions, but the only real revelation involved the abortive tea. Tressa looked up at Bastian, her heart hurting. He deserved to know that their attempts to become pregnant had been thwarted. "She wouldn't tell me."

  "Maybe she doesn't know?" Connor asked.

  Bastian shook his head. "No. She knows. She has to. Otherwise, why all of the secrecy? Why fake her own death? Why take those pages from the book? Why put a spell on the cottage so no one else can enter?"

  "I stopped here to sleep tonight. Tomorrow morning I'm headed back to the Ruins. I'll ask Granna while I'm there. This time I'll p
ressure her more." Tressa wasn't sure it would do any good, though. Granna hadn't appeared interested in sharing much of anything with her. "If I get answers, I'll share them with you as soon as I'm able. I have other tasks to complete too. Promises I've made that I must keep."

  Bastian rolled his eyes. She'd made promises to him once, yes. She hadn't kept them, but she didn't think he was suffering. Elinor kept his bed warm now.

  "You wouldn't want to break a promise, would you?" he asked, folding his arms over his chest.

  Tressa noticed Connor slip out the door. She took a deep breath. It was past time they had this discussion.

  "Bastian, when I left you with our parents, I did it for the good of our people. After what happened to Connor, I couldn't let anyone else suffer. I also think, though it's too late to prove it, that my father manipulated me into leaving." She stood, her legs shaking with anger. "I did what I thought was right. I had every intention of coming back to you. But then everything spiraled out of control."

  "And you met Jarrett."

  "This isn't about Jarrett!" Tressa resisted stomping her foot. Her hands were in fists.

  "You could have come with me after the battle in Risos. You chose to stay with him in that bunker under the sand." Bastian's voice cracked. "I waited for you."

  "That time." Tressa said it under her breath, but she knew he could hear it—just as she knew he could hear her unspoken accusation. When they were unable to conceive, thanks to Granna, he’d moved on to other women.

  Silence hung in the air. Thick. Ugly.

  Bastian's shoulders drooped. "I'm sorry. I know. I was younger then. Stupid. I thought we'd never be together, and I didn't think any of the other trysts mattered. If I had thought, even for a moment, that we'd be free of Hutton's Bridge and have a chance to be together again..."

  “There are things you don’t know,” Tressa said, her lips trembling. She rested a hand on her stomach. “I was pregnant with our child. We conceived a baby in the grove where our parents hid.”

  “Was?” Bastian’s hand cupped Tressa’s cheek. “What happened?”