Hidden (Book 1) (14 page)

Bastian dropped his sword on the ground and tucked his
dagger into the holster around his calf. He needed both of his hands to scale
the tree. The limbs rustled like living arms, reaching out for him, threatening
to flay his skin. Rough bark dug in, biting his flesh. Still he climbed,
desperate to get to the top, hoping he could rise above the fog. Praying he
would be able to see Tressa.

He couldn’t see the ground any
longer, nor could he see the top of the tree. Anchored on a sturdy branch, he
felt afloat, drifting in a sea of damp clouds. He was used to the fog
surrounding him when he lived in Hutton’s Bridge, but the only time it ever
enveloped him so completely was in the forest with Tressa and Connor.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins.
Losing Connor and Tressa within the space of a day. One through the
most bloody
death he’d ever seen and the other gone, without
a trace. She’d promised him they’d be together. Then she left. She’d vanished
with the moon.

Scaling the top of the tree was his
only hope of finding her. If she
was
still wandering,
maybe he’d see her. Or he’d see some kind of path. Or figure out where his
village was. He knew the fog didn’t reach up into infinity. The dying dragon in
their village told him that.

He wished, only for a
moment, that
he had a dragon to fly on. He could soar over
the forest, save Tressa, and then rescue everyone in the village.

Bastian steeled himself and began the
ascent again. Connor’s death would not be in vain.

A bright beam of light cut through
the fog. It was only a pinhole, but it was enough to spur Bastian to climb
faster. He was close. The air was drier and he could feel a hint of a breeze
brushing wisps of his hair to the side.

Closer now. Only a few more branches
until the sun broke through the fog. Bastian shielded his eyes with his hand,
hanging onto the trunk with his free arm. Holding on carefully, he shimmied
from branch to branch, trying to get to the opposite side of the tree where he
could hopefully see Hutton’s Bridge.

His hand grabbed onto a knot in the
trunk, his fingers curling around the ageless bark. Then he felt it. Flesh.

Bastian tore his eyes away from the
forest and looked up at the trunk. A hollow, the size of a human gaped in the
trunk. But it wasn’t empty. Gnarled within the tree was a woman. Alive or dead,
he couldn’t discern.

He snatched his fingers away from her
toes. At first he’d thought they were knots. He climbed a little higher on a
branch, one that looked sturdy enough to hold his weight. To be safe, he
balanced against another branch, taking care not to put too much pressure on
either.

Bastian took a deep breath. The woman
in the tree didn’t acknowledge him. Her wrinkled eyes remained closed, forever
locked in a dance between life and death. Her heart pounded in her transparent
chest. A faint red glow emanated from her heart where it still beat out a slow,
even rhythm. If Bastian squinted, he could almost see the forest moving along
with her, as if her heart kept it alive.

And maybe it did.

“What kind of magic is this?” He’d
seen enough to know he had to suspend disbelief. Hutton’s Bridge had exposed
him to nothing more than stories. Everything he’d seen had proved there was far
more out here than he’d ever suspected.

Her skin was shriveled with age. Her
wide eyes glowed green. Her mouth contorted in a gasp of terror. She didn’t
move, didn’t acknowledge him, yet her naked body continued to pulse with a sappy
rhythm.

“What are you?” Bastian reached out, caressing
her emaciated cheek.

She didn’t flinch.

If she was connected to the forest,
killing her might end the torment of the fog. His people would finally be free
from its tyranny. He’d be able to find Tressa. And yet…

Bastian knew now that staying hidden
was better than what was out here.
At least when they were
unprepared.
If Tressa made it back to Hutton’s Bridge, if he could join
her there, then they could train their people to fight back.

But the woman had done nothing to
him. He couldn’t even be sure why she was there or if she had anything to do
with the fog. Bastian squeezed the hilt of his sword. The blood pumped in his
veins, screaming at him to kill her. The scene before him was unnatural. It
reeked of evil magic. Even the tree no longer smelled of dew and earth. There
was a stench of rot in the air, tickling at his nose, threatening to climb down
the back of his throat and gag him.

“No.” He said it to himself. A glance
out of the corner of his eye assured him. She still didn’t acknowledge him. No
movement. No life, despite the pulsing of her exposed heart.

Bastian turned his back on her and
gazed out into the forest. He forced himself to focus on finding Hutton’s
Bridge.

It didn’t take long. His eyes skimmed
the tops of the trees, honing in on a wall of fog in the distance. It rose into
the sky, higher than he could see. He craned his neck upward, careful to
maintain his balance on the tree branches.

It appeared there was no end. The
tendrils stretched on forever.

A black crow cawed in the distance. A
rustle in the tree behind him snatched his attention from the sky. The branches
crisscrossing the woman’s chest curled away from her body. Her limbs moved in a
smooth motion as she stepped away from the hollow.

Bastian scuttled farther out on the
branches. They dipped dangerously low, threatening to snap and send him
spiraling to the ground. He didn’t care. He wouldn’t get an inch closer to the
naked woman emerging from the womb of the tree.

Her lifeless eyes looked toward the
sky, in the direction of the cawing bird. She raised her arms, her palms facing
the fog. Her mouth opened; she sucked in a deep breath.

Tendrils escaped the fog, racing
through the air toward her, passing over her lips, giving moisture to her
shriveled body. Her mouth closed. Her lips warped into a smile, one so vile
Bastian wanted to throw himself to his death. Still, he hung on.

Her eyes swept over him, but just as
quickly as they’d found him, they were trained on the sky again. The bird came
into view.

The woman’s mouth opened, her jaw
slack. Ice crystals shot out of her mouth and hurtled through the air, stabbing
the bird straight through its chest. Wings beat frantically, fighting against
the finality of death.

Giving up the struggle, the bird
spiraled down into the trees, landing on a mess of branches not far from
Bastian.

The woman raised a hand toward the
bird. It hurtled through the air, landing in her outstretched palm. She lifted
the bird to her mouth and took a bite. Blood gushed, the scent of copper overtaking
the rot and moistness in the air. She swallowed the bird with one big gulp.

Her eyes fell on Bastian again. Gliding
over the branches as if she had no fear of falling, the woman stood only inches
from his feet.

“Leave,” she commanded, blood
dripping out the sides of her mouth.

The branches broke at her command,
sending Bastian falling to the ground.

Bastian opened his eyes to the sound of a piercing
screech. He lay in a tangle of branches, not far from the ground. Had they not
caught him, his bones could have shattered into a million pieces.

He recognized the sound and held
still. It was the same beast in the forest the first time they’d passed
through. Few had ever survived one trip. A second was suicide. He knew why he
was doing this.
For Tressa.
Everything was for her.

Bastian hoped he wasn’t too late.

“Bastian.”

He heard it gliding on the wind.
Tressa! He’d know her voice anywhere. Bastian slowly lowered himself to the
ground. The fog enveloped him, erasing any chance he had of seeing his way
through the forest.

Bastian pulled himself back into the
tree and up onto the branches. He could see a bit better above the fog. Looking
around, Bastian tried to find another tree close by. If he could move from tree
to tree without touching ground, he might be able to avoid the beast hiding in
the mist.
He only wished he’d thought of it before.

“Bastian.”

There it was again. Tressa. His
breath came faster, his heartbeat increasing. He shimmied out on the branch and
reached for the next one. With a careful foot, he probed the branch. It was
strong and stable. Bastian leapt to it, quickly grabbing the upper branches,
like outstretched arms of the tree.

He moved like that, just above the
fog, trying not to think of another fall. He also wanted to kick himself for
not thinking of this the first time he travelled through the mist. Every few
minutes he’d hear Tressa’s voice again, calling his name. He wished she’d just
stay still. It would be much easier to find her.

Terror bubbled in his gut. It was
possible the beast out there was chasing her. He had to find her before it did.
As long as he could hear her voice, he knew she was still safe. He would reach
down, grab her hand, and pull her up into the trees with him. They’d escape
together and lead their people out of the fog. Or stay there, safe, guarded by
that strange woman trapped in the tree. He didn’t really care as long as Tressa
was okay.

He heard her again, louder, much
closer.
Nearly below him.

“Bastian?”

Bastian looked at the fog below his
feet, tendrils wrapping around the toes of his boots.

“It’s me. Stay where you are. I’ll be
right down.” He knew she had to be terrified. She’d been out there too long by
herself.

Bastian dropped a foot into the fog, blindly
reaching for a lower branch. He took a deep breath, as if he were about to
submerge underwater. The fog kissed his face, cold, dead. He shivered, but kept
up the descent.

“Are you still down there?”

“Bastian?” Tressa’s voice sounded
closer.

Finally, he touched ground.

“Tressa, talk to me so I can find
you. You stay still, okay?”

“Bastian.” Her voice trembled.

He turned to the right.

“Bastian!”

He turned to the left.

“Bastian!”

Behind him.

“Tressa, don’t move!”

“Bastian!”

In front of him.

“Tressa, please!”

A deep laugh echoed through the thick
fog. Spittle flew through the air, landing smack on Bastian’s cheek.

He wiped it off with his sleeve.

“Tressa?”

Sweat coated his palms. His hands
shook. This wasn’t right. Not one bit of it. She would have said more than just
his name. She would have stayed still.

Dread spread through his body. His concern
for Tressa had him so distracted he hadn’t even realized someone, or something,
had been deceiving him. Bastian scrambled back to the tree. He reached up,
grasping for a branch. His fingertips scratched
bare
on the hard bark. Finding purchase, Bastian hoisted himself back into the tree.

A scratching noise behind him was
followed by a low growl.

Bastian held on to the tree trunk,
balancing precariously on a branch that might be too weak to hold him. It bent
toward the ground, threatening to dump him at the slightest wrong move.

He stretched his arm out above him, scrambling
to find another branch that could carry him even higher.

The wet chortling wafted toward him.
A scratching noise tore at the bark on the tree.

Bastian finally felt a branch. He
wrapped his hand around it, tugging hard. It didn’t budge. With a heave, he
pulled himself up, desperate to get higher before the thing below could catch
him.

The noise got farther away as
Bastian
climbed higher. He let out a breath he hadn’t
realized he’d been holding. He shivered and hugged the tree, his muscles
screaming for a break. Safety couldn’t be far away.

A sharp tip came shooting through the
air, piercing Bastian’s leg and yanking him back toward the very thing he was
desperate to escape.

Bastian reached up, grabbing the hilt of his sword
with his right hand before he fell to the ground, landing with a hard thud on
his back. The spike stuck in his leg retracted. His leg throbbed, but he didn’t
feel any blood. Yet. Quick thinking had kept him alive until now. He wouldn’t
let a spike stop him.

The fog swirled, blinding Bastian
before he could determine where the beast hid. Instead of attacking, he held
still on the ground, his sword in front of him at the ready. If his hunch was
right, the beast couldn’t see him either. If it could, it would have attacked
already. It would have gotten them the first time through the forest. Based on
Connor’s wounds and his mother’s scars, Bastian guessed this was what attacked
them. He refused to be its next victim.

“Bastian,” it said in Tressa’s voice
again. Honey dripped from its voice, but it was no longer tempting. Was it so
foolish to think he’d answer the call?

“Bastian!”

He sat up. That wasn’t Tressa. It was
Vinya
, his wife. The voice came from behind him and
sounded very far away.

“Dada!”

His stomach dropped.
Farah, his daughter.

A scratching noise on the forest floor
jolted Bastian to his feet.

“Shit,” Bastian mumbled under his
breath. He ran in the direction the voices came from. At least in the direction
he best guessed. The screams for him continued.

“Be quiet!” He yelled back. “Don’t
say another word!”

“
Vinya
.” It
wasn’t Bastian. Damn it. The beast was playing its game on them too.

“Over here, asshole.” Bastian yelled
so loud his throat felt it was ripping to shreds.

“
Vinya
,” it
said again, ignoring him. Its voice sounded exactly like him.

Bastian’s sweaty hands gripped the
hilt of his sword. He could follow the voice just as easily as
Vinya
. Faster, even, because he didn’t have a kid to slow
him down.

A few moments of silence passed.
Good. She’d stayed quiet like he ordered. He could only hope she’d stayed where
she was too.

A whimper punctuated the air. “Mama!
Where are you?”

Bastian paused. He couldn’t find them
and he knew what was coming next. He waited for the inevitable.

“Farah,” the thing called out to his
daughter, using its sweetest imitation of
Vinya
.

Bastian turned, his sword
outstretched and swung it through the air. It planted firmly in something
fleshy. A smile crept across his face as the thing in front of him snarled.

He pulled back hard on the sword and
made another hacking blow, meeting again with resistance. A gurgling noise
sputtered in the air and something wet landed on Bastian’s cheek. He wiped it
off with his finger,
then
brought it to his nose.
Blood.

Lust raced through his veins. Another
hack.
Then another and another.
More blood spurted on
him, driving him into
a frenzy
.

Something sharp whizzed through the
air, landing on his arm. Intense pain surged through Bastian’s body. Using the
pain, he hit harder and faster, blindly whacking at the beast hidden from him
in the mist. Whimpers replaced the snarls. Then silence.

Bastian struck out again, but his
sword caught nothing but air. He pointed the tip down and poked. It met with
resistance.

Finally. It was dead.

“
Vinya
,”
Bastian called out into the gray darkness. “It’s me.”

Silence.

“
Vinya
,
it’s okay now. I killed it. Call out and let me know where you are.”

Still silence.

“The only thing it’s ever said is
anyone’s name. Trust me, it’s dead.” He stayed in one place, waiting for her
response.

“Bastian! Why do things always have
to be so hard with you?” She huffed, out of breath. “If you would have just
stayed home like I told you none of this would have happened. We almost lost
our child because of you.”

“Me?” He stalked toward the sound of
her voice, his anger growing with every step. “Why the hell are you even out
here? You should be back at the village, keeping our daughter safe.”

She snorted. He corrected his path by
a bit to the right.

“It’s not safe there. People are
dying and the rest of them are fighting amongst themselves. People are hatching
plans to escape or to take over from Udor. It’s a mess at home, which you would
know if you would have stayed like duty dictated.”

Bastian was glad she couldn’t see the
angry snarl on his face, not to mention the beast’s blood spattered all over
him. Or maybe if she saw it, she’d keep her comments to herself and fear him
his wrath for once. Of course it was his fault for never standing up to her
before. For letting her roll over him every moment of every day simply because
he’d given up on his happiness when Tressa had been forced out of his bed.

“Have you heard Tressa out here?” He
ignored her barbs, instead concentrating on the reason he’d come back into the
forest in the first place.

Another large
exhalation of breath.
Bastian reached out, knowing she had to be only steps in front of him.
His hand met with softness, followed by a hard slap.

“You leave me, come back looking for
her, then try to grope me?”

Bastian jerked his hand back. He
hadn’t wanted to touch her there. Not ever again. He was pleased to find it
didn’t stir anything within him. A woman’s breasts were hard to resist, no
matter
who
they belonged to. Not that touching
Vinya
had ever done much to rouse his desires. He’d done
his duty with her. The hope he’d eventually care for her had faded with each
day of verbal abuse.

“Have you heard Tressa?” he asked
again, tired of giving into her game of fighting. Sometimes he thought she
enjoyed it more than anything else in life. Sad, when he really considered it.
For a moment, he almost felt sorry for
Vinya
.

“No, I haven’t heard from her. Maybe
that thing already ate her. It would serve her right.”

Before Bastian could say something
equally rude back, he felt a small hand on his leg. “Dada?”

He reached down and picked up Farah.
His lips sought out her soft cheek and found it readily. “I missed you.”

She snuggled into him. He could
almost see her blond curls, just like her mother’s, burrowing into his chest.

“What were you hoping to accomplish
by coming in here?” he demanded of
Vinya
.

“I wanted to escape, just like
everyone else who’s ever gotten out of Hutton’s Bridge and never come back. I
don’t believe for one second that they died out here. I believe they just left
and found a better place. Why come back?”

“Why indeed,” Bastian grumbled under
his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing. I was just mumbling.”

“Like always,” she said, smugly.

He imagined her arms were crossed
over her chest, an annoyed look on her face. He’d seen it often enough in the
last few years.

“I came back because it’s the right
thing to do. And you’re wrong. Not everyone makes it out of here alive. That
thing,” he pointed over his shoulder with his thumb even though neither of them
could see
it,
“was happy to kill most of the people
that had come out here. It nearly killed Connor and my mother.”

“Your mother?”

Bastian was glad she hadn’t asked
about Connor. He wanted to tell Hazel first. It was her right to know before
Vinya
. “Yes, my mother is still alive. She’s out there,
living in hiding.”

“In hiding? Why? Why didn’t she come
back?”

“She almost died on her way out. I
couldn’t ask her to try again.”

“Pathetic. Everyone in your family is
such a waste.”

“Don’t say that around Farah. She’s
part of my family.” He stroked her
head,
glad she was
too young to really comprehend the meaning behind her mother’s words.

“Luckily I spend more time with her
than you do or she’d end up just like you.”

Before he could formulate a response,
a growl rumbled from the side. Bastian gripped Farah tighter.

“I thought you said you killed it.
You can’t do anything right, can you?”

“
Shh
!” he
said.

“You’re such a failure, Bastian. You
always were. The day I pulled your ribbon I knew.” She fell silent. Except for
a faint gurgling sound.

A thump on the ground was followed by
the grating sound of teeth tearing flesh and gnawing on bone.

Bastian stayed silent as he crept
away into the forest, still holding Farah tight in his arms, letting the beast
he thought he’d killed devour the wife he’d never wanted.

Bastian ran through the fog, not
caring which direction he was running, as long as it was away from the beast. Farah
clung to him, her tiny arms wrapped around his neck. Every few minutes he had
to whisper to her to loosen her grasp. If she didn’t, they’d both be in
trouble. He needed as much air as he could get.

“How long have you been out here?” he
whispered in Farah’s ear.

She answered by sticking her thumb in
her mouth. Bastian could hear the sucking sound knocking around his ear. He
wasn’t too surprised she didn’t answer. She was more like him than
Vinya
would ever admit.
Quiet and strong.
Yes, his daughter was just like him.

When the muscles in his legs screamed
at him to stop, Bastian slowed down. It was very different going through the
fog without Tressa’s magic owl and its light. Before he could see all of the
logs on the ground and the tree branches before they scratched his face. Now
success was left up to chance. He refused to slow down and let that thing catch
up to them.

It was injured
,
he knew that for
sure
. But it wasn’t bad enough to leave them alone. It was still hungry.
He wouldn’t let it get his daughter.

“Have you seen Tressa?” he asked her.

Her little head shook no against his
chest.

He sighed, but kept running. Tressa’s
father told him she’d left for the village. Maybe she’d already made it. He had
to believe that. Anything else was too devastating.

Bastian tightened his arm around Farah,
reminding himself there were things to live for. People to fight for.
Lives worth saving.

From his viewpoint in the tree, he
knew Hutton’s Bridge lay at the center of the fog. If he kept running in a
straight line he’d either come out in the village or outside the fog. Either
was better than staying inside with the beast.

After an indeterminable stretch of
hours, Bastian’s lungs began to burn. He gasped for air, swallowing the thick
blanket of fog. He stumbled, his feet too tired to go on. Sinking down to a
soft patch of grass, he set his daughter on his lap, refusing to let go of her.
He couldn’t lose her too.

“Dada?”

“
Shh
.” He
didn’t know how fast the beast could run. Maybe it had already outrun them.
Maybe it was hiding just around the next tree. Without knowing, he had to
remind her to be quiet.

“Keep walking, Dada.” She crawled out
of his lap and tugged on his hand. “Home.”

She was right. They couldn’t stay.
Bastian moved to his knees. The pain in his leg from the puncture wound seared
through his body. He couldn’t go on. Not without water. Or rest.

He let his hand slip out of Farah’s.
The ground crunched as she tiptoed away. Bastian slipped to the ground and
closed his eyes.