LEGENDS: Fifteen Tales of Sword and Sorcery

by Colt, K. J.

Tressa took a deep breath, preparing herself to give him an answer she knew he wouldn’t like. “I have to go back to Hutton’s Bridge. There is some unfinished business that can’t wait.”

  “What?”

  She hesitated, knowing this answer would annoy him even more. “I can’t tell you.”

  “It’s Jarrett, isn’t it?” He closed his eyes.

  “Yes,” Tressa said. He’d explained to her about the danger awaiting her people – one they weren’t aware of – if they didn’t get to Hutton’s Bridge before the other dragonlords knew the fog was down.

  “He wants you.”

  Tressa didn’t immediately answer. She’d felt it was true as well. Jarrett knew she was in love with Bastian, but it hadn’t stopped him from letting her know he had feelings for her too. After Connor had flown out the window he’d destroyed with Stacia’s body, Jarrett and Tressa took Bastian to the nearest physic.

  While Bastian was being evaluated, Jarrett explained the danger of opening up Hutton’s Bridge to the rest of the dragonlords. He pressed Tressa to travel with him back to her village. She’d told him about the dragon that had landed in Hutton’s Bridge right before she, Bastian, and Connor left. She’d teared up thinking about Connor and then Jarrett had tried to kiss her. For a second, she’d allowed it before pulling away.

  She gazed at Bastian. He didn’t need to know specifics, but she couldn’t lie to him. “He might, but it doesn’t matter because we’re finally together.” He’d told her Vinya was dead. While she didn’t celebrate the demise of the woman, she couldn’t help but be relieved. It was one less obstacle in their way. “I’m also going so I can get Farah and bring her to you.”

  Bastian smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Sleep, now.” She kissed him on the forehead and stood up.

  “Tressa?”

  “Yes?” She turned back to him at the doorway. He looked terrible – bruises, cuts, bandages everywhere.

  “Be careful.”

  “I will. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Tressa, wait.”

  She looked back at Bastian, waiting for him to complete a yawn.

  “Your father –” His eyes fluttered to a close, followed by a quick snore.

  She smiled. She would see her father again before coming back into the city. And maybe even Nerak. First, Hutton’s Bridge. They needed the honey.

  She stepped out of the building and into the crowded city in the forest. Tressa shook her head at her foolishness. She’d thought escaping the fog was the only obstacle she had to overcome. Then it was killing Stacia. Every action she’d taken opened up her village and the people she loved to more danger. It occurred to her that she might never have a moment’s rest again.

  Jarrett stood not far away, leaning against a post for tying up horses. His dark skin framed his pearly smile. He bowed. “Ready, my lady?”

  Tressa had changed into a dress provided by the wife of the physic. It was the first time she’d worn one in a long time and she wasn’t sure she liked it. Tressa smiled and Jarrett helped her mount a horse he had procured for her. It pranced, kicking up dirt. Tressa’s heart fluttered. The horse trotted around and she held on tight. There was a first time for everything.

  She pulled the skirt up, revealing a pair of riding breeches underneath.

  Jarrett laughed. “You’re always prepared, aren’t you?”

  “No, but that’s never stopped me before.”

  They rode out of the city, hoping no one would notice Stacia was dead before they got back.

  EPILOGUE

  THE WIND CARESSED THE UNDERSIDE of his wings as he flew through the afternoon sky toward the northeast. Away from the city. Away from civilization to the quiet of the forest near the mouth of a river. It had whispered its name to him. The Snake.

  He understood the name. From above he saw how it wound through the forest. It was also dangerous and unforgiving. He’d nearly lost his most treasured possession the first time he’d found it. The object he carried with him was too precious to be swallowed by the river.

  He’d hidden it in the forest.

  With the others.

  The horde of dragon eggs he’d stolen, one by one, and spirited away in the night to the nest he’d made for them in the hollow of an ancient tree.

  Thirteen eggs.

  When the change first happened, he thought he was dying. His skin burned like flames. It stretched and tore until he thought some unseen force was ripping him to shreds. It was more painful than the day the woman had killed him with her braid.

  The bars disappeared for him, just as they did every time the woman visited and had her way with him.

  He’d taken the egg in his mouth, for now that he was the same magical beast, he knew it for what it was. His seed had contributed to its being. Caring for it was all he knew.

  The dragon, who had once been a man, wandered the dark cave, looking for others. All he found were dead men behind bars, their bodies wrapped around the eggs. No more alive than the straw nests built around them.

  One by one, the cobalt dragon carried the eggs carefully between his jaws, away from the tunnels under the castle. His only instinct was to save them. Last, he took his egg to the hiding place in the forest. He would come back for them after he killed the female dragon who had raped him. Ruined him. Changed him.

  Now she was dead. He was free.

  He lay down next to the nest he’d built with twigs, leaves, and mud from the riverbank. His tail wound around the pile of eggs and he closed his eyes to sleep.

  Until a cracking noise disturbed the quiet, starry night.

  Read Chapter One of the Book #2 in this Series on the Next Page, or Alternatively, Purchase Book #2 from Amazon Now.

  HUNTED PREVIEW

  UDOR WATCHED IN WONDER, BARELY believing his eyes as the fog dissipated. “He did it,” he said. Not to anyone in particular. The residents of Hutton’s Bridge were as stunned as he. “That little bastard did it.”

  He would have put his hands on his hips, but those had disappeared in a mass of fat many years ago. He had been stuck in the fog, with a life of simple luxury and a wife who submitted to him. Children who had obeyed his every word. And when Sophia had died, he’d inherited the leadership of the town. He’d finally had everything he wanted.

  Then those three had to go and destroy it. He’d tried to convince Tressa to stay behind. He’d wanted her body, yes, but more than that, he’d wanted to end the yearly trek into the fog. Odds were someone would eventually break through and ruin everything good in his cushy life as leader of Hutton’s Bridge.

  That day had come.

  Chaos erupted amongst the villagers. Udor ambled through the masses, ignoring their pleas for guidance. Now they’d all want to leave. Now he’d have to deal with outsiders. Now his life would be changed for good.

  Udor slipped into his cottage and locked the door, not caring his wife and children were still out there somewhere. He needed to be alone. He had to figure out how he was going to deal with this unexpected situation. He rested his hands on his ample stomach and sighed.

  When Bastian had come back to town, claiming the world outside existed and was waiting for them, Udor found himself wishing he were a younger man. He could have challenged Bastian. Instead he’d just let the boy take his best men into the fog, armed to the teeth.

  And then this. They did it. The fog was gone.

  A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. “Yes?” He couldn’t ignore it. Enough people had seen him go into his cottage. And he was still their leader, whether he liked the situation or not.

  “It’s me, Adam. We’re back. Everyone wants you to come out and speak.”

  Udor groaned, rising from the soft, plump chair. He straightened his shirt and rolled his eyes. “I’ll be right out. Glad to hear you’re back safely.” And he was. Adam was their only skilled healer. Thankfully he’d come back to help his fellow villagers instead of taking off into the new world.

  He flung the doo
r open and strode out with a confident gait, though he had no idea what to tell them. He would let their expressions lead him. If there was one thing he’d learned over the years, it was to read the faces of his neighbors. It had helped him get his way many times. All he had to do was recognize their fears or desires and play upon them.

  Except for that damned Sophia. He’d hated her arrogant behavior. As if being the last living witness to the day the fog fell meant something. It meant nothing. She knew nothing. The day she died had been the best day of his life.

  Sophia had her final revenge, though. After Tressa had gone through the fog, the villagers had entered the cottage she’d shared with Sophia. The others in the village needed her resources. After the first day of rummaging through their things, the door no longer opened. For weeks, they tried. Eventually they’d given up. At least he’d found the book Sophia had kept hidden. The one that explained why their village had been doomed to be draped by fog.

  Udor ascended the platform next to the rock where Sophia had lain not more than a moon ago. He wondered for a moment what she would have done in this situation. Probably encouraged everyone to run from town as fast as they could.

  He looked out into the crowd. Women wrung their hands or snapped at their oblivious children. Men fidgeted with their farming implements, worried about the dead Adam’s men were carrying back into town. “Where is Bastian?” Udor asked Adam.

  “Taken by a group of soldiers. The rest are on their way here now.”

  Udor cursed under his breath. Why hadn’t Adam mentioned that back at his cottage? Now he really had to think on his toes.

  “My people,” Udor said, raising his arms. “This is truly a joyous day. Our town has been liberated. The fog is gone. The world is ours to explore.” He glanced at Adam out of the corner of his eye. Adam looked nervous, shifting from one foot to another. “But there are soldiers on their way to Hutton’s Bridge. They may mean us harm. We must take up arms and prepare to fight.”

  The murmurs in the crowd turned to fear and anger.

  “We don’t know how to fight! And some of our men were killed in that forest.” Hazel pointed to the place where Adam’s men were dragging the dead back to the village. Her eyes darted over the bodies, probably wishing one was her dead husband, Connor.

  Udor shuddered. For years they’d given their dead to the fog on the other side of the village. Now that the fog was gone, what awaited them? A heap of decayed bodies and bones? He didn’t want to be the one to find out.

  Adam stood next to Udor. “There were beasts out there, but we killed them under Bastian’s direction. The people coming now are just men. Like me. Like you.” He pointed to a cobbler in the crowd. “We can talk to them. Reason with them. Fight only if we have to.”

  Udor wanted to nudge the redheaded physic away with his elbow. But the people were listening and nodding their heads. Adam’s story held their ears, and because of his profession he held their hearts. Udor was impressed. Adam had never taken on any mantle of leadership in the past, but today he had the people of Hutton’s Bridge in his hands.

  “So put down your swords,” Adam said. “Let’s meet them with kind words and friendship first.”

  Everyone cheered at Adam’s suggestion.

  Udor held a snort inside. If these soldiers had taken Bastian, it was likely they had similar plans for the residents of Hutton’s Bridge. He looked around, trying to think of a way to gain back their favor and restore common sense. Anything to wrest control away from Adam.

  “Does anyone here remember me?” a voice called from the back of the crowd. All eyes swung to a man and a woman.

  Udor’s jaw dropped. It couldn’t be.

  “Jayne?” Adam stuttered. “Jayne, is that you?” He pushed his way through the crowd, running toward a woman who resembled his sister, gone long ago into the fog.

  Udor knew the man next to her. Fenn. Tressa’s father, Sophia’s grandson. Both of them had entered the fog years ago. They were alive? How many others were out there? Had they all survived? He suddenly felt very sick to his stomach.

  “We’ve come to help,” Fenn said as Jayne fell into her brother’s arms. “We have friends who can save you. The soldiers headed this way aren’t kind. They are coming to destroy you.”

  “I don’t understand,” Adam stammered. “Why—”

  Udor wanted to say something, but he was too stunned. He felt completely out of control. Damn those three for doing this to him. He liked life the way it was.

  “The men coming from the east are going to kill you. I know because they tried to kill us too, but we escaped.” Fenn walked amongst the people, his old friends. Even Udor had liked Fenn before he’d disappeared into the fog. He’d always felt they were kindred spirits. “Turn your eyes to the sky. Your saviors are coming.”

  Udor, along with all of the townspeople of Hutton’s Bridge, looked up. He stumbled backward, overcome by the sight of dozens of red dragons flying toward them. His hands shook and his bowels turned to water. “No. No more dragons.”

  “It’s okay, old friend.” Fenn placed a hand on his arm. “They’ll fly you away to somewhere safe. I promise.”

  Udor nodded, staring into Fenn’s mesmerizing eyes. “Yes,” he said, nodding. “We will go with you to your land of safety.”

  Udor felt the power coming back to him as the eyes of his people turned to him for comfort and leadership. “Don’t be afraid. Fenn is an old friend. Many of you remember him as I do. We can trust him.”

  Udor swallowed the bile rising in his throat. It was the right decision...he hoped.

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  AFTERWORD

  Thank you so much for reading HIDDEN. I hope you had a good time reading it.

  There are some really great ways to stay in touch with me and learn about upcoming releases. I would love to hear from you!

  - Continue the story with the sequel, Hunted, coming in 2014. Add HUNTED to your Goodreads list: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/19540790-hunted

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  XoXo,

  Megg

  MEGG JENSEN BOOKS

  DRAGONLANDS

  HIDDEN, BOOK #1

  HUNTED, Book #2

  Retribution, Book #3

  Desolation, Book #4

  Reckoning, Book #5

  Young Adult Fantasy Novels

  Cloud Prophet Trilogy:

  Anathema (2011)

  Oubliette (2011)

  Severed (2012)

  The Song of Eloh Saga

  All of the above stories combined into one volume

  TALON

  The Windwalker Archive, Book #1

  by

  Michael J. Ploof

  PROLOGUE

  PLAGUEBORN

  AS RECORDED BY AZZEAL, Ralliad of Elladrindellia,

  Keeper of the Windwalker Archive

  Born by a Dogstar Moon, shunned, they see only with their eyes. Righteous vengeance shall be his.

  —Gretzen Spiritbone, 4975

  Volnoss

  Winter (Vetr)

  4980

  (Two hundred years before the events of Whill of Agora)

  The wind blew across the frozen world, sending phantoms of snow dancing and twirling in the half-moon light. In the night the cry of the timber wolf echoed throughout the wood. Stars twinkled brightly in the clear winter sky. All but the hungriest of predators huddled in nest and burrow.

  The cold of Volnoss killed men without shelter and fire; the freeze crept through stitched seams and clung to the bone
s. The winter was one of the coldest and harshest told by the elders, and none disputed their claim. The fall crops had long been eaten, and the ice grew thick upon the waters. Fishing spots had to be moved, often by more than twenty thrown stones. Every day the catch was less, partially due to illegal fishing near barbarian territory. Each season disputes erupted between the barbarians of Volnoss and the Kingdom of Shierdon, and every year the elders called for patience.

  A sickness had taken hold of many of the children and elderly of the tribe. The terrible sickness had come with the harsh cold and, as such, had been named the Frozen Plague (Frjosa Mien). The disease came in the night with a high fever and nightmares that left victims thrashing in madness. By morning the victims slept as if dead, their skin cold to the touch. About their hands and feet started a discoloring of the skin like frostbite, which slowly crept across the body until death.

  The sickness had taken hold of a tribeswoman by the name of Kvenna Windwalker, wife of circle member Kreal Windwalker. Kreal had been tending his sick and pregnant wife for nearly two weeks. The frozen plague had crept along her limbs to her shoulders and waist. Nothing the shaman or witchdoctors tried did anything to slow the sickness.

  Kreal had been beckoned by duty to a gathering to address the issue. The women of the tribes had become furious in their demands for action, but the men remained impotent to do anything about the sickness. The people demanded answers from the chiefs, but they had none.