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Authors: Megg Jensen

Tags: #fantasy, #epic fantasy, #adventure, #magic

BOOK: Hunted (Book 2)
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Chapter Thirty-Nine

Bastian led Marden and his men down the dank tunnels
leading to the underground haven few seemed to know about. With each day, the
castle revealed its secrets to more and more people.

If Elinor hadn't told, could the other healers have been
simply lucky, finding the hidden cache? Bastian doubted it. There had to be
more he didn't know.

But all Bastian cared about was finding Connor and the
eggs, freeing them. He was no longer the leader of the Blue. He wanted nothing
to do with whatever machinations were in progress.

Bastian and Marden stepped into the cavern where Connor had
hidden the eggs. Empty. Not even the stones on the ground showed evidence of the
effort it must have taken to drag the eggs out. Bastian had tried to lift one
back in the cave in the forest. It hadn't budged. Only Connor had been able to
move them.

Perhaps he'd done it again, but under duress this time.

He'd do anything for those eggs. Bastian knew his friend's
heart. Even if Connor didn't remember his own little boys, he treated those
eggs as if they were his children.

"Where do we look now?" Bastian asked, hoping
Marden knew the tunnels under the castle better than he did. "This is the
only place I knew of."

Marden shrugged. "I wish I knew."

"Don't you know these tunnels?" Bastian asked,
incredulous. The man was a member of the most elite security force in the
Drowned Lands. He had to have some grasp of the tunnels in and out of the
castle.

"I don't," Marden admitted. "We were told to
keep out, upon sentence of death. So I did. I told all of my men to stay away,
too."

A man behind them cleared his throat. It was the man Stacia
had been having her way with when Bastian was brought before her, just before
she died. "I've been here before. Stacia, she'd take me down here
sometimes."

"This isn't Darren's first time in the Black Guard,"
Marden said to Bastian with a roll of his eyes. "How long have you known
about these tunnels?" he asked Darren.

A slight blush spread across Darren’s face. "Stacia
liked to escape down here sometimes and she'd take me with her. We'd had a
relationship." His eyes wide, he looked around at his fellow guards. Most
of them stood with arms crossed over their chests or eyes wide. Aland's jaw had
dropped. "She said someday she'd marry me." Darren shook his head.
"She was lying, wasn't she?"

Marden nodded. "It's okay. There isn't a moment where
all of us haven't been distracted by a beautiful, willing woman."

The other men grunted in agreement. Bastian had to admit
the same. A willing woman was hard to resist. Even though he’d hated Stacia and
everything she stood for, he could understand how another man might be tempted
by her beauty and power.

"Do you know of any other places down here that are
large enough for a few dragon eggs and a dragon? Somewhere comfortable enough
for the highest ranking healer to hide?" Marden asked Darren.

"Yes," he said. "There is a place where we'd
go occasionally. I think it might have the space required to hold a few dragon
eggs." He held up a hand. "But I'm warning you. Your eyes have never
set on a place like this before. Don't be surprised. And," he paused, a
lump bobbing in his throat, "don't judge me for it."

Marden pursed his lips together. "Lead on."

Darren led them down dark and narrow corridors. Bastian
felt something run across the top of his boots. Remembering how Elinor had
laughed at him earlier, he kept his disgust to himself. The rats wouldn't kill
him. The men around him were another story. He didn't trust them. He was sure
they didn't trust him.

He squinted his eyes, attempting to glean any solid form in
front of him. They'd neglected to bring more than one torch, and being in the
middle of the single file group of men, Bastian couldn't see much. Each man put
a hand on the shoulder of the man in front of him. It was the only way to
assure no one would wander off in another direction.

They walked for what seemed an interminable amount of time.
Bastian's legs were growing weary. Not just from the walking, but also from the
night he'd spent with the whore. She'd kept him up in an effort to make more
coin. He hadn't argued. Now he was paying for it with more than just the gold
he'd taken from Stacia's stockpile of treasure.

The man in front of Bastian stopped abruptly. Bastian
halted and so did the men behind him. So they'd made it to the secret room
Darren had spoken of. Bastian's blood pulsed in his veins. His heart thumped a hard
beat. Battle might lie ahead. He grasped the hilt of his sword with his free
hand. In front of them, a door was flung open, spilling light into the hallway.
Someone was there. No one would be stupid enough to leave unattended torches
burning. An erratic whistle swept through the air as swords were unsheathed.
Bastian held tight to his, leaving it at his leg for the moment. He didn't want
to accidentally injure someone in front of him. He could only hope the men
behind him were as courteous.

"An egg!" Marden exclaimed. "And one man.
Keep your blades ready, men." He guffawed. "Where there be a dragon
egg, the dragon will not be far away."

One by one, they spilled into the room. The walls were
drenched in a blood red ochre. Strange instruments of all kinds hung from the
walls. Metallic cuffs. Maces with ends sharpened to a point. Feathers of all
shapes and sizes drifted along another wall. Chains hung from the ceiling,
swaying with the breeze the men had kicked up storming into the room. Marden
turned around, taking everything in. "What is this place? A room of
torture?"

"No," Bastian said. "What would the feathers
be used for? Tickling the person to death? And there," he pointed over
Darren's shoulder, "that looks like a bed."

Aland stood next to Darren and gaped at him. "What
manner of room is this?"

"Yes," Marden said, "what exactly did you do
here with Stacia?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Darren said, the
blush returning to his face.

Bastian wasn't sure he wanted to know. He turned to the man
hiding in the corner, his arms over his face. Bastian recognized him.

Connor. As a human. Naked. They'd found their dragon, but only
Bastian knew. He'd need to tread carefully. Making his way over to his friend, who
sat on a moth-eaten blanket on the floor, Bastian tried to catch his eye.
Connor kept his head down.

He was asleep. Not dead. The slight rise and fall of his
shoulders spoke the truth. Bastian crouched next to Connor. "It's me.
We'll get out of this together."

"Is he injured, Bastian?" Marden called from
across the room.

Bastian could have kissed him for the idea. He wasn't good
at thinking fast on his feet, but he would take an opportunity when it was presented.
"Yes, I believe so. He isn't responsive." He said it as much for
Connor's benefit as Marden's. He hoped his friend would follow his lead. Connor
was always the smart one. Even though he'd changed when he became a dragon, his
instincts were still intact.

"There were plenty of guards on the outside, but no
guards in the throne room with that girl. None down here. Just an injured man
and an egg. Strange. What happened here?" Marden asked.

Connor's hands circled around Bastian's throat, yanking him
backward. His chin pushed upward, cutting off his breathing.

"I happened." Connor's voice dripped with venom.

Bastian fought against his friend, more for the benefit of
the men of the Black Guard than actual attempt at escape. He wanted them to
think Connor was trying to hurt him.

He knew his friend wouldn't.

Connor's arm flexed harder. Everything in the room swam in
front of Bastian. The feathers on the wall spun in circles.

Bastian's head screamed at him to fight back, but he forced
himself to fight only a little. Not to hurt Connor. To play along with what had
to be part of the ruse.

"I will kill him if you come any closer," Connor
said.

Bastian felt the cold steel of a knife against his throat.
Blood dripped. His blood.

Connor had cut him with a knife he'd stolen from Bastian's
hip. It was a superficial wound, but it was a warning.

Bastian was no longer sure where his friend's loyalties
lay.

Chapter Forty

Bastian thrust his elbow backward into Connor's chest. His
friend grunted. His grip around Bastian's neck slackened. Bastian jumped to the
side. Connor leaped to the other side, the knife in his hand.

"You'll all die. I will kill all of you." He
waved the knife in the air.

Marden laughed. "What can you do against my men?"

"I can kill you the same as I killed the others."
Connor stood still, his eyes narrow, his lips set in a straight line.

"You killed the healers who took control of the
castle?" Aland asked. "If that's true, where are their bodies?"

Bastian had a sinking feeling he knew. "The
dragon?" It was a question. One he already knew the answer to. Connor had
exacted his revenge. In this form, Connor had only one focus: to protect his
dragon children. Only one egg was here. The others were missing, which
explained Connor's unbridled anger.

Connor's eyes were wild, unfocused. Anger pulsed behind his
brown irises. It was a look born of revenge.

Bastian reached out, placing a hand on Connor's arm,
trusting his friend wouldn't hurt him. Not again. "Where is Fotia?"

Connor glared at him. "Where were you? I needed you
last night. We needed you.”

"You two know each other?" Marden asked, curious.
He tapped the side of his cheek with one beefy finger.

"I met him in the forest," Bastian said.
"After I escaped the Blue. Right before I found the dragon." It was
the truth, after all. He had found Connor first. "He helped me protect the
dragon egg. He's a loyal man."

"He seems more loyal to the dragon than to you,"
Marden quipped. "He threatens us. I don't like that."

"Please, Connor, put the knife down. Marden and his
men are here to help," Bastian begged his friend. He put pressure on
Connor's arm, attempting to force him to lower his knife.

Connor resisted.

"Please, Connor," Bastian said. "Drop your
knife."

"They'll take the egg." Connor's gaze switched to
the egg against the wall. "Where are the others?" he screamed.

"We will help you find and protect the eggs if the
dragon serves us." Marden held his sword at the ready. Bastian knew Marden
could take Connor down quickly. The man was powerful and Connor was
outnumbered. It wasn't a contest. Connor needed to choose life.

"The dragon will never serve you," Connor said.
He spat on the floor. "The dragon detests men like you. No honor. You
abandoned your post when your queen was defeated. You did nothing to protect
the throne. Two different people have taken the throne since you walked out the
doors. Now you want it back? If another one of the dragonlords attacks, will you
walk out the door again? What makes you worthy?"

Bastian had wondered the same thing. He hadn't cared what
the answer was. Clearly Connor did.

Marden fumed. "You are no one. You are not allowed to
question me."

"And yet I did," Connor said. "Are you afraid
to answer? Perhaps we can walk calmly back up to the throne room and discuss
this like gentlemen. Leave a few of your men to guard the egg."

Then it occurred to Bastian. If Connor changed in this room,
he would be trapped. The dragon was too big for the doorway. He wanted everyone
out of the room so he could attack.

Bastian meant him no harm. He only wanted his friend back.
Together they could find their children. He couldn't do it without Connor. He
was only one man. But Connor no longer needed Bastian. The more his dragon side
took over, the less he cared about his previous life.

"No," Bastian said. He held an arm between the
two men. "Don't leave this room. When you do, you'll die."

Marden laughed again. "All this drama. Are we soldiers
or actors dressing as women for a play? We won't die, Bastian. One man cannot
kill us. All of you, with me. We will post a guard at the entrance."

Bastian wrestled with the truth. Tell it and expose his
friend. Hold back and watch these men die in front of him, with only a small
sliver of hope Connor would spare his life. One by one the men filed out of the
room.

A grin spread across Connor's face, his teeth glinting in
the firelight. Bastian glimpsed a hint of red lodged between two of Connor’s
teeth. Was it a piece of one of the healers who'd stolen the throne and the
eggs, his flesh torn by the dragon inside Connor?

Bastian took a deep breath, making his choice.

Connor followed the last two men out of the room. Both of
them flanked the doorway, hands on the hilt of their swords, ready to fight an
intruder. "Coming?" Connor asked Bastian.

Bastian ran a hand along the top of the egg. His fingers
brushed over the ridges and valley until a crack in the egg surprised him. He
tapped his fingers three times gently on the shell. Satisfied he'd found what
he'd been searching for, Bastian nodded. "Of course, my friend. I'm
coming."

"After you." Connor swept out a hand.

Bastian nodded. He clamped a hand on the shoulder of the
man in front of him. Connor's rested lightly on his. Bastian took a deep
breath, his shoulders moving up and relaxing back down again. Connor's hand
curled, his nails digging into Bastian's shoulders.

It was a warning. Or a promise. Bastian wasn't sure. He
wanted to believe they were in this together. He wanted to know that his friend
was still in there, fighting to control the dark side that was slowly
overtaking him.

Down the hall they walked, steady, even steps. They arrived
in the cavern and Marden took an immediate turn toward the stairway leading up
to the castle proper. Connor's hand left Bastian’s shoulder.

"Run!" Bastian yelled. "Get up the stairs as
fast as you can!"

"Why?" Marden whipped his head from side to side,
looking over his shoulder.

"Run for your lives!" Bastian's voice rasped as
he screamed. He didn't dare glance behind him to see if his gamble paid off. He
backed away, hiding in one of the niches in the back while the rest of the men
scrambled up the stairs as fast as they could.

A roar echoed in the chamber.

A wave of heat rushed over Bastian as he cowered in the
corner of a stall. Connor had unleashed his fire on the men. Bastian could only
hope they'd gotten far enough up the stairs. Perhaps only their backsides were
a bit singed. He'd saved their lives.

But only one thing could save his own.

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