Reckoning (Book 5) (5 page)

Fi's hands trembled. Donovan? A dragon? "Are you sure?"

Jarrett nodded. "I saw him change. See, there he is." He pointed toward the dragon soaring in the bloody sky.

Fi wanted to believe it was a trick. She wished it were a dragon who could help rescue her from Donovan. An ally. Perhaps even a Black dragon, one of her own kin.

When the dragon landed on the ground in front of them, Fi knew without a doubt it was Donovan. Despite his onyx scales, like hers when she was in dragon form, the cruel slant to his eyes and the curled lips told her this dragon was not one of hers. He was different. Cruel.

The dragon laughed, his forked tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. "Don't think you can escape me so easily, Fi."

She staggered backward, running into a tree. Bark scraped her hands. She could feel blood welling up, but she couldn't take her eyes off the dragon. It had spoken. In her entire life, she had never heard a dragon speak.

Most of them had another person they could mentally communicate with. Not one could speak the human language with the tongue of a dragon. Ever. It was unheard of.

"What? Are you surprised I can speak?" Donovan asked, chortling. Spittle fell from his lips. "Some dragons are just superior to others, my dear. It is time you see who’s really in control!"

Fi looked back into the woods, cursing herself for stopping for Jarrett, and again for listening to him when he saw the dragon in the sky. She could have escaped. She’d had a chance, and she'd wasted it.

"I would have set the forest on fire. You would have burned alive," Donovan said, as if reading her mind. "This is a better alternative." He reached out a claw toward Fi, resting it on her shoulder.

She stood stiff, breathing shallowly, trying not to show her fear. He could crush her with his foot, if he wanted. Scorch her. Slash her belly open with his talon. She had even less of a chance of escaping now that Donovan could change into a dragon. She knew the power he held. Once, it had been hers to control. Now she was nothing more than a weak human, forced to live under a dragon's clutches.

The Red Queen was dead, and the other Red dragons either dead or scattered after the battle on the Isle of Repose. The Yellow Queen was also killed by the fire of Mestifito, and her son, Destrian, was a prisoner of the Black. They were bad enough, but clearly Donovan desired to be the worst of them all.

"Now, let's go back to the cottage," Donovan said, slowly sliding his talon across her throat. It was nothing more than a trace of the mortal wound he might have left.

Jarrett nodded, holding out a hand to Fi. She looked back at the forest one more time, anger and resentment coursing through her. If only she would have died when the Red castle collapsed. She would have rather been crushed under a boulder than face this future.

Fi drew in a deep breath and followed Jarrett back to the cottage. Donovan flew above them, careening through the sky. If anyone else had seen him, they would just assume he was simply another Black dragon—one of the many who'd fought for freedom in the Dragonlands. It was only those who were familiar with the Black that would recognize him as an outsider. Sadly, there didn't seem to be anyone like that around. The stretch of land they'd emerged in was isolated. Fi wasn't even sure how the people who'd lived in the cottage had provided for themselves. Unfortunately, they also didn't seem to have any neighbors to notice their disappearance.

The trek back to the cottage didn't take long. She dreaded going inside to the drawn curtains and the orders to stay silent. She didn't want to sleep on the floor while Donovan slept on the bed above. She couldn't stand one more day of furtive glances from Jarrett—a man she still couldn't figure out.

Fi's stomach turned. No. She wouldn't go back. Without a word, she spun and ran toward the forest. Let Donovan burn it down. She had to try.

Fire burned in her lungs as her legs pumped harder with every footfall. She didn't look behind her. She ignored Jarrett's pleas for her to stop. She tuned out the thumping vibration of Donovan's wings in the sky as he gained on her.

Fi crashed through the branches of the forest, letting them tear her skin to shreds. Nothing mattered except getting away from Donovan, and she had decided she would die trying.

Fi hurdled over fallen logs. She dodged trees, pushed away moss, and ducked under low-hanging boughs. Her breath came in ragged bursts. Her lips quickly chapped from heavy breathing.

Fi took just a moment to glance upward. Donovan flew above the treetops. He didn't appear to be in a hurry, nor did he attempt to flush her out with fire. What was he planning? Fi wouldn't know until he acted, so she continued her flight, knowing more with each passing moment that it was completely futile.

She couldn't outrun a dragon. She'd tire long before he did. Eventually, she would be forced to rest, and then Donovan would pluck her from the forest. He wouldn't follow through on his threat to burn it down. Others would see from far away. Curiosity would draw them out. It was attention he didn't need.

Still, Fi kept going. Pushing aside branches and stumbling over logs, and her breath catching in her throat. Every time she looked up, Donovan was still there, circling.

"Come out, come out wherever you are," Donovan taunted from the sky. "You know you can't escape me."

Tears streamed down Fi's cheeks. He was right. She knew it as well as he did. Only now she would likely suffer more abuse at his hands for running away when she should have meekly followed him back to the cottage. Her impulsiveness had betrayed her.

Exhausted and gasping for breath, Fi sat on a lichen-covered boulder, her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands. Blood dripped from the sky, rolling down the leaves, only to land on her hair. She took a stuttering breath, then stood again. Fi ran until she could run no more. The trees thinned and the edge of the forest loomed ahead. Fi stumbled out, her arms limp at her sides.

She closed her eyes, wishing once more for her dragon to return. She could fly away from Donovan. Fly south to her people. Rest in the arms of her beloved wife, Sarah. Have a laugh with Tressa. Leave this nightmare behind.

But her dragon did not come.

Instead, talons grabbed hold of her shoulders and spirited her into the sky, back toward the cottage.

Everyone had gathered in the village square. Bastian kissed Farah and Adam, then he gave Pia a small smile. He ran and jumped into the air, his wings unfurling. He settled back onto the ground, landing next to Hazel and Connor, who had already taken their dragon forms.

The three stood together, sunlight glinting off their scales—two sapphire and one emerald—ready to carry their children northwest to the Meadowlands. They hadn’t received a response to the message they’d sent to the Green. Still, Bastian and his friends were determined to save the children of Hutton's Bridge. Whether Bastian and Connor would agree to the Green’s plan to cross the sea was an unknown. They hadn't spoken of it since the night before.

Connor’s children crawled up on Hazel's back first, followed by one of the healers. There were only four adults besides the three dragons. They would have to keep the children calm and seated on the flight to the Meadowlands. It was a big task, but one they all had to be up for. They had no other choice.

Blood no longer dripped from the sky, though the moon still glowed maroon in the daylight. It hung menacingly, reminding them that the prophecy, and all it entailed, seemed to be coming true. The time had come to leave their beloved home.

Before anyone could clamber on Bastian's back, a scream ripped through the otherwise quiet morning. With keen dragon eyes, he surveyed the humans before him. All were quiet, looking to the east toward the source of the keening. Bastian took to the sky, flying above the fog and heading toward the edge of the forest where Gaia, one of the tree spirits who had protected Hutton's Bridge, lived.

Bastian slowed above the treetops, closed his eyes, and changed into a human. He fell through the trees, limbs scratching his arms and legs, leaves smacking him in the face. A bough reached out, grabbing Bastian and breaking his fall. It pulled him close to the trunk where a face formed.

Gaia. Sap ran down her woody cheeks. "Bastian," she said, her voice raspy. "The end is coming. My power is fading. I cannot protect you any longer."

He reached out, resting his palm on her cheek. It was softer than he'd thought it would be. Unlike the rough bark of the tree, Gaia's face was more like the supple wood found in new growth. "I'm so sorry," he said.

"My brothers are gone. Last night when the blood moon appeared, they released their final breaths. I was always stronger than they were, but even I can't hold the fog on my own much longer. I cannot keep you safe." She took a deep breath, the tree shaking with the effort.

"It's okay," Bastian said. "We plan to evacuate the children and take them away from the Dragonlands. You can rest now." He left his hand on her face, wanting to give her comfort.

Gaia's eyelids fluttered. "I don't want to rest. Not yet. There is so much I will miss in this world."

"We all must rest at some point," Bastian said. "It is the way of the world. All must go eventually."

"Not all..." her voice wavered as she trailed off. "There are some who live on, despite the laws of nature. They must be broken. Defeated. They will be the ruin of the Dragonlands."

"There is a path to death for all," Bastian said. "I will find a way to end the evil. I promise you this. I will not rest until it has been defeated."

Gaia sighed, her breath smelling of moss and wet bark. "I know you won't, my dear Bastian. You are the warlord the Dragonlands needs."

He cringed. Blythe had said the same thing in the Meadowlands. He was a warrior, but he was no warlord.

"You will want to give up. You will want to leave. Without you, the world will fall. Not just the Dragonlands. The whole world, Bastian. Evil knows no boundaries," Gaia said, her voice softer.

Bastian thought of his children, of Farah's golden curls and Adam's sweet cooing, and knew, beyond a doubt, that he would stay and fight. Gaia was right. Evil wouldn't stop at the Dragonlands’ borders. It would follow them across the sea. It would hunt them down until it had destroyed every bit of good in the world.

He would not allow it to win. He might not be a warlord, but he would fight with every ounce of strength in him.

"Sleep, Gaia," he said. "I will protect everyone from the evil. Your time is done."

Her lips curled into a small smile. "Before I go, will you kiss me, just this once?"

Bastian leaned in closer to the tree spirit who had once been a woman of flesh and blood. She had given up her life to protect Hutton's Bridge. It was the least he could do to thank her. Her lips were surprisingly warm. She sighed, letting a breath of air into Bastian's mouth. A warm sweetness traveled down his throat and into his chest. Bastian gasped and pulled away.

Gaia laughed. "That was all of the magic I had left. Use it to protect your loved ones, Bastian." Her eyes closed, her face settling into the wood, all traces of the woman lost to the bark.

Bastian ran his hand along the place her face had been, straining to see her once more. She was gone. Then he noticed another change. The fog was dissipating. Mist swirled around him, thinning out as it had done the last time he'd begged Gaia to lift the veil. Soon the sun shone through the treetops, filtering down to where Bastian sat on the wide bough.

He kissed the tree trunk once more, then began to climb. His face emerged through the canopy of leaves and was greeted by the sun. On the other side of the sky, the blood moon hung in stark contrast. Bastian burst into the air as a dragon and flew back to Hutton's Bridge, landing next to Connor, whose back was already full of children.

Bastian knelt and more children climbed on his back, followed at the rear by Pia. Adam was strapped on her chest so she had both arms free to help the other children.

"Now, all of you, listen to me," Pia called out. "Don't let go. Not ever. We have a long flight ahead of us. You'll love the Meadowlands. It's filled with lush green grass and animals you have never before seen. It will be a beautiful place for us to find safety."

They hadn't told the children they planned on leaving the Dragonlands forever. Not yet. It wouldn't do any good to let them know so soon. The children needed to be calm on the flight to the Meadowlands.

Once all of the children were settled, Connor took off, Hazel following, and Bastian bringing up the rear. Though Bastian had learned to control his dragon in the months since his return to Hutton’s Bridge, he hadn't established a link with anyone while he was in dragon form. Connor and Hazel had quickly learned how to send their thoughts, so Bastian simply followed them while they were in the air.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, refusing to think about what waited out there for them. His only goal now was to bring the children to safety. After that, he'd seek out the evil and destroy it before it could hurt anyone else he loved.

Bastian glided toward the Outpost in the dark of night. He landed in the soft grass, careful not to jolt anyone off of his back. One by one his passengers slid off, until only Pia and his infant son, Adam, were left. Pia handed Adam to one of the older children, then she slid off Bastian's back. She shook out her cloak.

Bastian returned to his human form. He held out a hand to Farah, who slipped her hand in his. She was growing up, but she was still his little girl.

"I should approach the gate first," Bastian said. "We need to talk to Blythe immediately."

Connor and Hazel nodded their agreement.

"Farah, why don't you stay with Pia for now?" Bastian patted his daughter's blond curls. "I have some business to take care of."

"Okay, Papa," she said, a scowl on her face. Farah yanked her hand from his and stomped toward the back of the large group. She stood next to Pia, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes narrowed.

Bastian held back a laugh. His daughter had the worst of her father and her mother. She would grow up to be a very stubborn woman. He quickly sobered. It was a trait she would need to survive in this uncertain world.

Taking a deep breath, Bastian reached for the low-hanging rope. He tugged on it three times, ringing the bell on the other side of the wall. In only a few moments, the wooden gate creaked open.

"You're here, finally." A man with a bright shock of red hair and a face full of freckles motioned them in. "Blythe has been watching the skies for you since last night. She got your pigeon. I’m sorry we weren’t able to send any dragons to help, but we’ve needed all hands here to prepare for what is coming.”

Bastian followed Renny into the Outpost, the children and few adults straggling in behind. They were all exhausted.

"We can put your people up in the inn," Renny said. "But I hope you aren’t too tired to come with me?"

Bastian turned to Connor. "And you? Do you have enough energy to come with us?"

"Yes," Connor answered. He turned to his wife. "Hazel?"

She looked over at Pia, the healers, the cook, and the children. Weariness echoed in their eyes. "I'll go with them for now," she said, pointing toward the huddled mass of Hutton's Bridge refugees. "But I want to be told what you discuss, and I want it made clear I will do what I can to help."

"Of course." Connor kissed his wife on the cheek before she walked away.

Bastian turned back to Renny. "Let's move. The sooner we figure out a plan, the better."

Renny looked down at the ground as they moved through the town. "Actually, the plans have already been set. You are going to be briefed, but you won't have much say in what happens. Our people have been preparing for years."

Bastian kept in an angry retort. He knew exactly what they were planning. The children, elderly, and a select group of strong adults to protect them would fly away to the west, over the sea, to a fabled land. The rest would stay to fight, allowing them time to flee. Whoever survived would then follow.

What waited on the other side of the sea was a mystery. Most believed it would be preferable to the enemies they faced in the Dragonlands. In preparation, the people of the Meadowlands had been systematically turning their people into Green dragons, including Bastian, who they'd found dead on the beach of the Isle of Repose.

The Red and Yellow dragons had punished the Green for sharing the secret of turning humans into dragons and trapped them inside the Meadowlands for years. Only recently, Tressa had enlisted the Black dragons to free the Green. The Green had helped the Black fight the Red. They had worked as a team, but now the Green were abandoning the Dragonlands to save their own scales. Bastian understood their intentions. At the same time, he was angry they wouldn’t stay to defend their homeland. The other realms wouldn't run. They would fight, to the death if necessary.

Bastian and Connor followed Renny into the building they'd seen last time they were in the Outpost, where the Green kept their sacred texts. It was also where Blythe had shown them the prophetic illustration of their world under attack. Bastian hadn't wanted to believe any of it, but now he stood in the shadow of the coming war.

"Bastian!" Blythe said, a strained smile on her face. "You're back."

"You knew I would be," he grumbled, unhappy that her prediction had come true. When Bastian left the Meadowlands, he had no intention of returning. Unfortunately, prophecy had forced his hand. When blood fell from the sky he had to seek safety for his children in the Meadowlands. He grudgingly admitted the Meadowlands were the only place that was prepared.

"We have begun preparations for the migration west. Tomorrow our first dragons will fly from the beaches on the sea. We will send them in sorties throughout the day. If they find danger in the land across the sea, they will return, warning the rest of us to hold back. It is better than sending everyone at once into an uncertain place.”

"Does a dragon have enough strength to fly so far?" Connor asked. "Have you ever tested it?"

Blythe looked up at Jakob, who stood across the room sorting through the codices and scrolls. He paused for a moment, then grabbed a cylinder. Jakob pulled off the end cap and gently withdrew a scroll. "No."

"No?" Bastian fought to contain his anger. "You're sending your people across the sea, and you have no idea if they can even make it to the other side?"

Jakob ignored him, rolling the scroll out over the table. "This is an ancient map of the Dragonlands." He pointed to the western edge. "Do you see this?"

Bastian squinted his eyes at the smudge on the edge of the paper. "What of it?"

"We believe it is land," Blythe said. "If that is the case, then our dragons should be able to fly to it."

Bastian threw his arms in the air. "Oh, well then. By all means, let's all fly toward what is probably an ink stain. It has to be better than staying here to face our enemies."

Blythe rested her hand on Bastian's arm. "It is better than dying here. At least we have a chance. The prophecies say—”

"Nothing," Bastian interrupted. "They say absolutely nothing useful. You are gutless. All of you. You're just flying away to your deaths." He sank down in a chair, resting his elbows on the table and his head in his hands.

"Forgive Bastian's frustration,” Connor said. “We hoped you’d know more than this. I echo Bastian’s concerns. I’d like to say I believe that mark is land, but it is impossible to tell. We came here hoping our children could go with yours. How can we be sure we aren't sending them to a watery death? When they become exhausted, there will be nowhere to land. Dragons can't swim. We are meant for the air, not the water."

"Don't you think we know that?" Jakob's eyes flashed with anger. "What do you suggest we do instead?"

Bastian sat up straight, his face as red as his hair. "We fight. We give it our damnedest." He slammed a fist on the table. "We don't even know for sure there is an enemy coming. Look, the blood rain has already stopped. Perhaps it is simply a weather phenomenon we don't understand. Maybe it will pass. To send dragons off to a land that might not exist is foolhardy."

No one replied. Bastian looked up to Connor, waiting for his friend to back him up.

Connor took a deep breath. "Some of the creatures in the illustration are real. Beyond the kilrothgi. There are—things out there none of you have seen. I have. They are real. I can only conclude the rest of the prophecy is real as well."