Hidden (Book 1) (6 page)

Tressa knocked on the door, not heeding the
warning left on the frame. The door slowly creaked open, a green eye the only
thing they could see. “We’re sick. Go away.”

In the
few times illness struck Hutton’s Bridge, the villagers left a warning to
others outside their door. A slaughtered chicken and its blood spread over the
doorway told everyone to stay away. Granna had never paid any attention, always
willing to help any family who needed it.

“Let
us in. We need to talk to Geoff,” Connor said, also uninterested in the
warning.

“He’s
sick,” the voice said again. It was so
quiet,
Tressa
couldn’t tell if it was Geoff’s wife Brenna, or one of his children. Based on
the height of the eye, she guessed one of his kids. “Go away. Save yourself.
Momma’s dead. Not Papa, but he’s real sick.”

“Your
mother is dead?” Tressa asked, slowly pushing the door open. The child stepped
backward. “Do you want us to take her body out?”

“No,” Geoff’s
voice came from the back of the dark cottage. “Leave her. It will only spread
the illness further.”

“There
are three bodies out in the town square right now,” Connor said. He squinted
his eyes, peering back into the darkness. “Tressa and I are going to enter the
fog. We came by to see if you would come with us.”

Tressa
and Connor waited while a deep, barking cough pierced the air. Tressa’s eyes
widened, seeking out Connor’s. They both knew Geoff wouldn’t be coming with
them. A wet laugh followed the coughing. “I’ll be dead by nighttime. This is
exactly how it went with Brenna.”

Tressa
wanted to take little Lukas with her, but she knew he’d already been exposed.
It would only help the plague spread faster through the village. Leaving him
with his father was the logical thing to do, but it wasn’t right. Her heart
ached, thinking of the young boy who’d seen his mother die and could only sit
by and watch the same happen to his father.

She
glanced down at the boy, his big green eyes wide. “Come with us. I can find a
place for you to stay.”

He shook
his head, his brown hair flopping over his innocent eyes. “I can’t leave my
papa. I won’t let him be alone. I saw how he took care of my momma. I want to
do the same for him.” Tears welled up in his eyes, but he held them back. In
many ways he was stronger than some adults Tressa knew.

“If
you need anything,” Connor leaned over and whispered, “
you
can go to my cottage. My wife will take you in.” Connor knelt down and drew a
little map in the dirt with an X where his cottage sat.

The
child nodded. He looked back over his shoulder at his father. “If he dies, I
will probably die too.”

It was
a very adult statement for such a little one. Her resolve to leave the village
only doubled. If there was any chance she could help, she had to do it.

“Hopefully
not. You look strong and you’re not sick right now. I bet you’ll be just fine.
Like me.” Tressa ruffled his hair. She wasn’t afraid to touch him. After all,
she nursed Granna before she died, never even guessing her sudden illness would
be so insidious or virulent.

There
were too many unknowns, but it only made her want to work harder to find the
answer.

“Tressa
and I are going to find a cure, Geoff,” Connor shouted back into the cottage.

Another
wet cough came from the darkness. “Even if I was healthy, I’m not sure I would
have gone with you voluntarily. I heard last night that it had been cancelled. Brenna
and I were going to celebrate as soon as she felt better…” His voice trailed
off, followed by a gasping sound. The little boy ran back into the cottage, the
door swinging shut behind him.

Tressa
moved to push the door
open,
to try to help, but
Connor grabbed her arm. “Don’t. There’s nothing we can do for him now. You of
all people know that. The best thing for us to do is to get out of here and
find out where the plague is coming from and stop it from spreading.”

Tressa
gazed into Connor’s eyes, trying to figure out if this was what he really
wanted. His emerald eyes focused on hers, not once wavering. She saw strength,
determination, and fear. It was the last one that made her question him. “Are
you sure?”

“Of
course I am. When I see Geoff’s son, I can’t help but think of Hazel and my own
little boys. This isn’t the ending I want for them. Even though going into the
fog scares me, I’m willing to do it for them. Staying here is a death sentence.
Who knows how many more people have been infected, or will be?”

“What
if it’s already too late?” Tressa glanced back at the cottage as they walked away.
She couldn’t get the image of that little boy out of her head.
Alone and scared, but so brave.
Did he even have a chance
for survival?

“It’s
not too late as long as people are still alive.” Connor didn’t need to convince
Tressa with his magic. She knew his words rang true.

“So
it’s just the two of us, then.” Her heart fluttered a little. She’d spent a
year dreading it, had one night to be thankful she wouldn’t face it, and here
she was back again to apprehension.

“No,
it’s the three of us.”

Tressa
spun on her heel. Bastian stood in the path behind her and Connor.

“You
can’t go with us,” Tressa insisted. “You have a family.”

Bastian
pointed at Connor with one finger. “He does too. And you’re more than willing
to let him risk his life.”

She
fought the urge to beat his chest with clenched fists. “Someone needs to stay
and protect the village.”

“From
what? A plague? Just how will I do that?” Bastian laughed. “Yes, I’m sure the
sword I made will help with that. The truth is that my steel will do more
protecting the two of you than anyone in this village.”

A loud
screeching ripped through the morning air. All three looked up into the sky.
Wings beat furiously from the broad body of an animal in flight, tearing
through the veil of fog.

“What is that?” Tressa glanced
over at Connor and Bastian. From their bewildered expressions, they knew about
as much as she did.

The flying creature, covered in turquoise and gray
striped scales, hovered over the village square. Fire ripped out of its open jaws,
bathing the misty sky in orange. Villagers screamed, running for cover in
buildings or under trees. The beast strained, its neck gyrating in the air.

Bastian
pulled the sword out of a sheath under his cloak. Tressa hadn’t even noticed
he’d been carrying it with him. If anyone saw, he’d be in trouble, especially
after his scuffle earlier in the morning. The beast let forth another fiery breath
and Tressa changed her mind. Bastian raced toward the flying lizard.

“What
is that?” Tressa yelled to Connor over the villagers’ screams.

“Don’t
know, but obviously it’s not from here!” He ran after Bastian.

Bastian
waved the sword in the air, pathetically far below the beast. Connor threw
rocks. They hit the beast, raining down on the few shrieking villagers left in
the town square. It screeched at them, but didn’t come any closer, its wings
flapping hard. The wind rushed around them in circles.

“Come
down here and fight!” Bastian bellowed into the air. He stopped swinging his
sword. Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead.

Tressa
grabbed a nearby rope and motioned to Connor. He tossed her a couple of larger
rocks. She tied rope around them, making sure the knots were tight. Connor
grabbed the rock and hurtled it toward the beast. After four tries, the rope
looped over its back, dangling down to the ground from the other side.

“More!”
Connor yelled. “Make three more, quickly!”

Tressa
did as she was told, tying the rope as fast as she could. Bastian and Connor
tossed them up over the beast, its head whipping around violently as if
something far away held it in a leash.

Connor
and Bastian each grabbed two of the ropes hanging from the beast. They yanked
hard, pulling it down, closer to the ground. The beast sputtered, its head
hanging down.

Udor
stomped out of the village hall, waving his arms in the air. “Are you crazy? We
need to find a way to get it away from here, not bring it closer!”

Bastian
and Connor ignored him, dragging the beast ever closer to the ground. Its
clawed feet scrabbled on the dirt and rocks, not far from the dead villagers
who’d been all but forgotten in the chaos.

Connor
stalked closer to the beast, laying his hand on the muzzle. “I don’t want to
hurt you.”

The
beast’s eyes drooped to the grass beneath it. Its chest heaved up and down,
slowing with each breath.

“What
is it?” Tressa whispered to no one in particular.

Carrac
, the oldest
person in the village since Granna’s death, emerged from the village hall with
a book in his hand. “It’s a dragon. I remember Sophia telling me stories of
them when I was a wee boy on my momma’s knee.” He opened the book, pointing to
a colorful
drawing,
made with dyes they no longer had
access to in the village.
Another relic from before the fog.

“Dragon?”
Connor leaned into the beast. “Is that what you are?”

It
didn’t respond, but it didn’t burn Connor into a crisp either.

The
dragon opened one eye, pupil
slitted
like a cat’s and
an iris as violet as the setting sun in the dark of winter. Smoke puffed out of
the nostril opposite of Connor. Warily, it eyed Bastian, standing next to
Tressa, his sword at the ready.

Then
it took one big breath and exhaled in one final gush of air.

It no longer moved,
lying prostrate on the ground, joining the dead of their village.

Everyone stood in shock, staring at the dead dragon in the town
square. A creature of myth that none one of them had ever seen before and few
believed was anything more than a figment Sophia's aging imagination.

Connor rubbed the silent creature's muzzle.
"Do you need more proof that the outside is knocking on our door? Yet we
cannot answer their call. We have no way to defend ourselves."

"What defense is needed against a dead
dragon?" Udor countered. "It came here to die, not to fight us. It's
chance, nothing more."

Tressa looked around at the gathered crowd. It
had swollen after the dragon died. Children crept out of their cottages to get
a look at the fabled beast, while still hiding behind their mothers' skirts.
Their eyes betrayed their new belief in Connor and Bastian's theory that a
world might exist beyond their borders. It wasn't so easy to discount anything
as a wild supposition anymore.

"Send them into the fog," one voice
from the crowd shouted. The chant began quietly, growing with each repetition.

Connor nodded at Tressa, and took her hand.
They stood in front of the crowd, determined. Out of the corner of her eye,
Tressa saw Bastian advance toward them. She hoped he would think better of
throwing away his life with
Vinya
and his daughter.
Instead he walked right up to Connor's side and clapped his best friend on the
shoulder.

"We are prepared to make the
sacrifice," Connor said. "Tressa and I were supposed to leave, along
with Geoff. But he's fallen ill, so Bastian has volunteered to join us."

A cry rang out from the crowd. Tressa cringed
inside, knowing it was
Vinya
, Bastian's wife.
"You will do no such thing. We are bonded and you have responsibilities
here." She pushed through the masses, elbowing anyone in her way.
"Don't do this. Please." But
she wasn't looking at
Bastian
,
Vinya
stared at Tressa
. The weight of the reality of his choice
weighed on her.

Tressa looked over to Bastian, but he stood
stone-faced, looking only at
Vinya
. "This is my
decision. If Connor believes our families are in danger, I will stand with him.
If I don't go, who will?" Bastian turned to the crowd. "Who among you
will volunteer to risk your lives to save everyone else?"

Eyes turned away from them. Women grasped onto
their husband's arms, letting them know they weren't to volunteer. No one else
stood up to
their
mate, choosing to take the risk
Connor and Bastian were.

Everyone knew Tressa had nothing to lose.

"I have to go." Bastian turned back
to
Vinya
, his teeth gritted.

"You don't have to do anything," she
snarled back at him. She shot a glance at Tressa, huffed, and stomped away.
"Make sure you tell your daughter goodbye before you freely walk to your
death," she tossed over her shoulder.

Hazel grabbed
Vinya’s
arm, sending the three a look of sympathy. Her understanding was beyond
comprehension.

Bastian turned his back on his retreating wife.
"When do we leave?"

"We need to gather any supplies we can
carry." Connor turned to Tressa. "Did you unpack your bag?"

Tressa shook her head. "No. There wasn't
time. I'm ready to go as soon as the two of you are."

"It'll only take me a few minutes,"
Connor said. "Bastian, go home, get a change of clothes, some food, and
whatever else you think we'll need."

Bastian looked over his shoulder.
Vinya
was gone. "I don't need to. I keep extras of
everything at the forge."

Connor looked at him in surprise.

Bastian shrugged his shoulders. "I sleep
there sometimes."

Connor laid a hand on Bastian's shoulder.
"You should say goodbye to your daughter. I'm going to give my boys big
hugs and kisses before I leave."

Bastian mumbled something to Connor, but Tressa
couldn't hear. She fought the urge to listen in. If it
wasn't
for her ears, then she'd have to live without knowing. When they were kids,
Connor and Bastian would cook up plots to terrorize her.
Spiders
in her hair, that sort of thing.
One day, she kicked Bastian between the
legs, on purpose, and told him that's what he'd get if they ever kept secrets
from her again. That was the last time they'd spoken in whispers in front of
her.
Until today.

Connor nodded. "I understand." He
shifted a bit, including Tressa in their conversation. She pretended like she
hadn't even noticed they were excluding her. "Bastian and I will be back
here before the sun crests."

Tressa looked up into the sky. They didn't have
long. "Okay. I'll be back then too. I just need to grab my pack and a
couple of other things."

Connor tossed an arm over Tressa and Bastian's
shoulders. "The old
gang back
together. This is
going to be some adventure."

Bastian smiled, nodded, and then walked toward the forge. Tressa
slipped out from Connor's arm and left for her cottage. She glanced over her
shoulder one more time at the dead dragon. Her heart swelled and she knew only
one thing: she needed to see another one of those, alive and strong.