Desolation (Dragonlands Book 4) (18 page)

The voices echoed in Tressa's head, repeating the name of her home over and over again until she thought she would go mad. She attempted to project her thoughts to the voices, but either they couldn't hear her, or they couldn't stop their chattering long enough to actually listen. She counted the statues. There were two hundred and thirty-nine. It was a number she knew. The same number of adults went missing from Hutton's Bridge when the fog lowered over the village eighty years ago.

"Take us home!" the voices cried. "Where are our children? Do they not look for us? Do they not need us?"

Tressa felt sick to her dragon stomach. She knew the old stories from Granna. How the fog wasn't there one day and was there the next. How the adults had disappeared, and Granna was left to lead the village at the young age of thirteen.

Yet they never seemed to discuss where the adults went or why. They just had. It was accepted. It was dealt with. Like everything else in Hutton's Bridge, no one questioned anything because they'd given up on finding the answers.

"Take us to our children," the voices screamed in chorus. "Free us!"

They were here. Frozen in time as statues. Donovan must have known all along. Otherwise why would he have brought her here? But now she was trapped in dragon form. She couldn't talk to them. They wouldn't hear her.

One scream rose independent of the rest. It grew in strength and intensity. Though the sound was in Tressa's mind, she wanted to cover her ears with her taloned feet, anything to make it stop.

A gust of wind pummeled her chest. Tressa fell backward, landing awkwardly on her tail. She craned her neck and looked at the ground. Shades covered every inch of the barren ground. They writhed and snaked around her feet, sending chills up her legs. A pounding shook the ground.

Tressa flew up out of the reach of the shades and the thing now barreling toward her. The rock giant from the catacombs had found her.

Tressa took a deep breath and focused a stream of dragonfire on the beast. The flames bounced off of it without effect. Of course. Rocks couldn't be burned. There was nothing at her disposal to beat it. She would have to fight. Tressa refused to lead the monsters back toward Donovan and Fi. This would end now.

Tressa flew higher and higher until the rock beast, the shades, and the statues were mere dots on the ground. She circled three times, gathering strength, then plunged toward the ground as hard and as fast as she could.

Wind battered her eyes, but she refused to close them for fear of missing her target. If this didn't work, then nothing would. She tucked her head down, letting the top of her head lead the charge.

Tressa hit the rock beast straight on, using all of her strength and the momentum of the fall like a hammer wielded by a strong giant. The impact knocked her to the ground, dazed. She looked at where the beast had stood. Now he was just rocks scattered across the ground. Parts of it lay everywhere, covered in Tressa’s blood. It dripped from her heavy brow down her face and to the ground.

The shades screeched. They moved as one toward her as, their individual shapes melding to form one giant slithering snake. Tressa attempted to take off, but she was still too weak from the impact. She'd taken care of one enemy, leaving herself vulnerable to a second.

The voices from the statues whipped at her, demanding their children, begging for their freedom. She wanted to help them, but she couldn't. Not now. Maybe not ever if the shades took their chance.

As the mass of shadows undulated ever closer, Tressa blew dragonfire. It didn't affect the shades. They continued their writhing, reaching out for her. Angry tears formed in her eyes. The wind whipped and smacked her leathery face. Blood coursed down her cheeks and mingled with the tears, dripping on the shades.

Their screeching turned to a shrill outcry. The massive shadow retreated. Tressa hobbled after it, weak from blood loss, shaking her head, letting the blood fly, exhausting all of the energy she had left in her. The shade degenerated, collapsing in on itself until it was only a black speck.

Tressa looked at the small spot as it bounced around the ground, completely helpless. It could do nothing in this state. It would harm no one.

Tressa blew the last bit of fire in her belly and incinerated the speck. It was part of the mass that killed Accore, Fregar, and Kadrin. Now it was dead. All of it.

The rocks from the beast lay on the parched earth. She could not destroy those, but none of them moved. They sat silent. Defeated.

Tressa slumped on the ground, her head resting on a small patch of dried grass. She was so close to the moat. A little closer and she could take a drink.

The voices had quieted. Tressa looked up at the statues. None of them had changed. Part of her had hoped defeating the two enemies would bring the statues back to life. Perhaps it would only bring them peace.

"Were we missed?" This time it was only one voice, but it was full and resonant, as if all of the voices had finally stopped competing and spoke in harmony. "Are our children alive?"

Tressa wished she could tell them one of the children left alone in Hutton's Bridge eighty years ago was still alive. Sophia, her Granna, the woman who managed to survive every obstacle put in her way—including death.

Despite everything, the children of Hutton's Bridge had survived. They thrived. They conquered. They escaped. They died. Now, the next generation of children were held inside the fog for their own protection. It was a promise that one day they would be free again.

"We miss our children. We love them. We want them to know we did not mean to leave. We were stolen. The Master told us our children were in danger. He told us we could only save them by coming here and working with him to defeat a common enemy. Instead, we were frozen here. No one can hear our words. We call to the stars. They ignore us. No one hears us."

The voice dissolved into tears. Water flowed from the eyes of the statues. A few drops landed on Tressa's head, dragging the blood from her wound down her face and dripping into the moat. It mingled with the other water, turning it a light pink.

Tressa closed her eyes, sad she'd defiled their tears. She could hear them, but they couldn't hear her. Her mental link only worked with Fi. Why had Donovan wanted her to come here? Just to learn the truth of her village? How could that help fight the war against Decarian?

Tressa knew if she didn't get back to her companions soon, her wound might get worse. It needed to be tended to, but she couldn't help herself. Not like this. Tressa took a deep breath and shakily pushed up on all fours. As long as she took breaths, she had a chance of getting back to Donovan and Fi.

She flapped her wings several times, then took to the sky. The water in the moat continued to turn pink below her. She circled, following the few drops of blood as they spread. Instead of diluting in the deep water, the blood seemed to take on new strength. It turned a darker red and became thicker. Tressa knew she should fly back to her friends, but she was entranced by the effect her blood was having on the water.

Then, the strangest thing happened. The blood climbed the pedestals, its sticky thickness reaching out for the statues. It gained speed, then burst into the sky, gushing blood over all of the statues.

Tressa watched as the blood streaked over the carved stone likenesses of the ancestors of Hutton's Bridge. She held her breath. The statues began to crack. Pieces crumbled to the ground as the statues disintegrated.

No!
Her bloody dragon tears were destroying what was left of the statues. What would happen to the voices? Was she setting them free or killing them?

Tressa closed her eyes. She couldn't look at the destruction she'd wrought. Everything she touched was obliterated, from her friends to the Ergoth warriors, and now the remnants of the adults who'd been forced to leave Hutton's Bridge. She couldn't take it anymore.

A burst of wind hit her. She corrected her thrashing wings, fearful of falling out of the sky. Then another burst came. Followed by another. And another.

Tressa's dragon eyelids snapped open.

What?
She bared her teeth in a smile that threatened to fracture her jaw in two. Nothing could have prepared her for what darted in the sky.

Connor threw a clean change of clothes into his pack, stuffing them in with his fist. Hazel handed him two loaves of bread and a few strips of jerky in preparation for his trip to the Red castle.

"You can hunt for whatever else you need," she said, her voice soft.

Connor dropped his pack onto the bed. He pulled Hazel into his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head. "I'm sorry I have to leave again."

She pushed back, a small smile on her face. "I'm sorry I chose to stay with the children. Part of me wants to go with you, but I know my place is here with our kids and all of the orphans."

"Besides, the last time you went off with me, you were changed forever," Connor said. "Maybe it's safer here."

"As long as that shadow doesn't come back," she said. "Pia can hold it off if need be."

Connor rested his hands on her shoulders. "Hazel, if you turn into a dragon while I'm gone, don't be afraid. Just trust your instincts."

She kissed Connor on the cheek. "Surprisingly, I'm not worried. I'm actually a little excited. Now that I know it's inside me, I'm curious what the new me will be like." Hazel laughed. "I just have to make sure I'm not inside the village hall when it happens."

"If you feel your insides shake and your brow sweats, get outside as fast as possible. That's how it happened to me the first time." Connor closed his eyes, trying to stay calm as he thought about his time in captivity. Hazel needed to know his experiences to help her with her first change. "I was kept in a cell then, but it was large enough to hold my dragon body."

"You must have been shocked when it happened," Hazel said, her hand resting on his cheek.

Tears welled in Connor’s eyes. He remembered coming to, cold and shivering in the cell. He only had to look across the cavern to see the other men, dead, their bodies each wrapped around their own egg. When he woke up one morning to find an egg in his cell, he knew his time was short.

That was when he'd found the strength to break free. Despite Stacia's magic, he'd found the will to escape buried deep in his soul. That was when he'd happened upon the scene in the throne room. The woman and man fighting Stacia in dragon form. He wanted revenge and he knew the woman was the key to exacting it. He'd let her ride on his back, and together they’d killed Stacia.

It was only later he learned that woman was his best friend before he'd been a dragon. He and Tressa had a deep connection strengthened by many years of friendship. Had she not been in that throne room fighting, Connor wasn't sure if he would have had the fortitude to battle Stacia alone.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Connor said. "I promise."

Hazel kissed him again, this time on the lips. Her soft skin brushed up against his. Connor pulled his wife close, memorizing every curve as if it would be the last time he'd hold her. He shook his head. No, he wouldn't think that way.

"You'd better go." Hazel stepped back, quenching the fire growing between them. "We'll be fine. Bastian, Pia, the cook, the healers, and I can take care of Hutton's Bridge. You already said goodbye to the boys and the dragons, and now me. Go, Connor, get what you need. We'll be here when you return."

Connor kissed Hazel once more. She opened the door for him.

He wasn't nervous about this task. He was just so damn tired. Once his memory had returned, he knew the secret everyone had been searching for. He couldn't stop now. It was even more important than ever that he get to the Red and take his bees back. He had honey to make.

"I love you," he said to Hazel. His heart filled, nearly bursting. Even before regaining his memories, he'd grown to love her, and remembering his past had only enhanced his feelings. He had loved her deeply before leaving Hutton's Bridge the first time. Nothing had mattered to him as much as the woman standing in front of him. It was her arms he longed for, her lips he wanted to kiss. There was no one else in his heart.

"I love you, too. Now, go." Hazel smacked his bottom.

"Do that again and I might pull you back into the cottage," Connor said. He meant it, too. There was so much time to make up.

"Later," Hazel said, winking.

"Thank you for standing by me, even when neither of us was sure I'd come back to you."

"I always knew you would," Hazel said. "I committed myself to you years ago. Little things like death, resurrection, and memory loss can't keep us apart."

Connor kissed Hazel's hand, then took off running, leaping into the air to change into his dragon. He didn’t want to say goodbye. It felt too final.

***

Connor soared above the towers of the Red castle, looking for a safe place to land. The entire structure had been carved out of a rocky edge of the Barrier Mountains. Stone jutted out in uneven spikes over windows. The castle’s architecture made it easily defensible, but it wasn't friendly to dragons coming in peace.

Perhaps the Red had never experienced peace. Always caught between two worlds, the Dragonlands and Desolation, the Red were friend to no one and enemy to everyone.

Spying a window large enough for a dragon, Connor landed carefully, quickly changing into his human form. He took off for the entrance at the end of the room, grabbing a burning torch to light the dark hall.

Another light moved toward him. "Connor?" a woman called.

He slowed to a walk, recognizing the voice. "Sophia?" Tressa's great-grandmother, the only person still living from before the fog fell on Hutton's Bridge. She'd died, too, and been brought back to life by her lover, the dragon Mestifito, though he hadn't given her enough dragon blood to turn her. Just enough to save her life.

"My scouts saw you coming. I'm so glad you're here. We were about to send a messenger to Hutton's Bridge for help," she said, her face becoming clearer as she walked closer.

"They wouldn't have gotten through," Connor said. "The tree guardians swore to stop any dragons other than mine. What's happening here?"

"The barriers are dissolving. Decarian moves ever closer to breaking free of his prison. We gave him the last of the honey from Tressa's hidden stash near Ashoom. Without more, we don't know how to contain him. Our mages have been working day and night to come up with a solution, but nothing seems to work. We don't know what to do."

Connor thought back to the pictures he'd seen in the Meadowlands, showing the destruction of the Dragonlands. He refused to believe the prophecy was fact. There was still time to change the future, and he planned to take advantage of every opportunity.

"I have good news." He wrapped an arm around the old woman's shoulder as they walked down the hall together. "My memory has returned."

Sophia gasped. "Does this mean what I hope it does?"

"Yes," Connor said, so happy he finally had a way of helping, other than flying people around. "I know how to make the honey. I need to bring the bees back to Hutton's Bridge. Where are they being kept?"

Sophia stopped abruptly. "The bees? They can't produce the honey Decarian needs. They've been trying here for months. Why will taking them back to Hutton's Bridge make any difference?"

"Because," Connor said, "it's not the bees. It's the flowers they need to pollinate. We have a special variety of the soter flower in Hutton's Bridge. It's not found elsewhere in the Dragonlands. That's why our honey was always unique. Its taste was outstanding, but it also had the properties needed to contain Decarian. We knew our honey was different because of the soter flowers. It was a secret told to only one beekeeper per generation. I was the only one who knew in Hutton's Bridge. The secret was entrusted to me by the last head beekeeper. Now that I remember, we can make honey that will stop Decarian from entering the Dragonlands." His chest puffed out with pride. If Hazel hadn't have asked him to take a deep whiff of the flowers he brought her, his memory might never have been triggered. They all owed Hazel a great debt.

"How long does it take to make the honey?" Sophia asked.

"Maybe a month," Connor said. "It depends on the bees, really."

Sophia’s eyes saddened. "I fear we don't have that long. Based on our calculations, Decarian will break free in mere days."