Hunted (Book 2) (25 page)

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Authors: Megg Jensen

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

BOOK: Hunted (Book 2)
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Chapter Fifty-One

The cobalt dragon swooped into Malum, ignoring the screams
of the people scattered below. Bastian laughed at their dragon masks. Elinor
had filled him in on the way, telling him about the festival the Red
celebrated. They’d searched the countryside, asking villagers if they’d seen a
mass exodus of people. In one tiny village, a child had eagerly spoken of a
horde of dragons ferrying people back and forth one day. It was all Bastian had
needed to hear to convince him his people had been taken by the Red.

In droves the people ran, shrieking, cowering around
corners.

Perhaps they thought Connor a ghost of Stacia. Word must
not have reached the Hills of Flame of the new dragon. Bastian gripped onto
Connor's scales. They would know now. And they would hand over his people or
they would die.

It was to be that simple. He was done tiptoeing around the
realm, waiting for other people to take the lead. He'd never wanted to be a
leader, nor did he crave it for his future. But he would not let his daughter
or Connor's sons be taken captive by anyone.

Elinor held tight to his chest, her nails digging into his
muscles. Yet she didn't hide. Her head was held high as Connor swooped up and
down, scattering the crowd into pockets of terrified revelers.

They'd agreed before leaving the Blue that no innocents
would be hurt as long as they could get their people back. If they had to
fight, though, they wouldn't hesitate to kill.

Bastian's eyes swept the city, looking for any sign of his
people, but there wasn't one child to be seen. Not at this bacchanal. The
people were in various states of undress. Another day Bastian might have been
interested, tempted to join them, but not tonight.

A scream pierced the night. Long. Bloodcurdling. Not fear,
but pure anger mixed with terror. And he recognized that voice.

Tressa.

Bastian yanked Connor to a hard right. It was enough to
alert his friend as to the direction he wanted him to go. Connor's head listed
to the side as his massive body glided through the air.

His eyes sharp, Bastian kept a look out for Tressa.

It wasn't more than a few breaths before he spotted her.

She ran, sword in hand, toward the center of the town
square.

A horde of red dragons scrabbled after her, their claws
scraping against the cobbled bricks. They were small, but their teeth and claws
told Bastian they were more than prepared to tear Tressa to pieces if they
could only catch her.

"Not on my watch!" Bastian screamed, drawing his
sword from its scabbard. "Are you ready?" he asked Elinor over his
shoulder.

"I am."

They'd agreed Elinor wouldn't jump into the fray. Instead
she'd stay off to the side and assist with any injured people from Hutton's
Bridge. Her skills lay in healing, and that was where she wanted to focus her
efforts.

Connor landed with a jolt, and Bastian jumped off his back.
He didn't give another glance to Elinor. She knew what to do, and he trusted
her to do it.

Bastian's feet hit the cobblestones, and he took off
running. Tressa hadn't seen him yet. Her eyes were searching the crowds,
looking for another. Jarrett probably. Bastian reminded himself not to care.

Bastian changed course, angling toward Tressa. The small
dragons were gaining on her. He wanted to get to her before they did.

"Tressa!" he yelled, spittle flying out of his
mouth.

She looked toward him, her eyes growing wide.
"Bastian! You're here!" Her eyes traveled over his shoulder, finally
seeing the huge cobalt dragon behind him. "Is that Connor?"

Bastian nodded. He pulled up next to her, panting, but
still holding his sword aloft. "It is. He's...changed."

Tressa nodded. There wasn't any surprise on her face. Only
acceptance. "That's what I thought. You have to go back. Tell him not to
attack the dragons behind us." She turned and faced the dragon horde
coming after her.

"What?" Bastian twitched, not sure what to do.
His instincts screamed at him to fight. Why wouldn't she? It was clear they
meant nothing but harm.

"Those dragons," she yelled, pointing at them,
coming ever closer, "are the people of Hutton's Bridge. We can't hurt
them."

"No!" Bastian said. "My daughter. Is Farah
among them?"

Tressa shook her head. "I didn't see any children
before they changed. Only adults. Udor and Carrac and Mariah. So many others. I
spoke with Adam, though he was the one who led me to them." She rested a
hand on Bastian's arm. "We can't trust him."

Bastian's eyes darkened. "He's not the only one. Your
father – "

"Yes, I know," Tressa said. "He's also one
of them. When did all of this go so wrong?"

"I don't know, but we can't stand here and wonder.
Let's get back to Connor. Escape." He tugged on her sleeve, trying not to
be distracted by the low-cut gown she wore.

Tressa yanked her arm away from him. "I can't.
Jarrett's out there somewhere. I have to save him first. And his brother,
Avital. I won't leave without them." She ran off in the direction she'd
originally been heading.

Bastian ventured another look at the dragons. They were so
close he could smell their rancid breath. Bastian took off after Tressa. He
would help her find her friends. Her lover. Maybe her husband by now. Just
thinking it pissed Bastian off. Still, he would leave no one behind. Not if it
could be helped.

He followed her through the town square to the monument
rising in the center. Jarrett arrived at the same time, coming from the
opposite direction.

"Where's Avital?" Tressa asked him, out of
breath.

"I don't know, but he can take care of himself,"
Jarrett said. He glanced at Bastian.

Bastian nodded back, not saying a word. What would he say
to the man who'd stolen his love right out from underneath him?

"Let's get out of here," Bastian said. "We
can ride out on Connor." He hoped Elinor had stayed close to Connor.
Things were getting too hot to run around looking for her.

"Wait!" Jarrett yelled. He grabbed Tressa,
pulling her into him. "Bastian, stop!"

Bastian stumbled to a halt. "Why? Connor is our only
way out of here. If our people are dragons now, there isn't anything we can do
to save them."

Jarrett pointed toward Connor with one shaky hand,
"I'm so, so sorry."

Bastian turned just in time to see Connor rear up on his
back legs. He took in a deep breath, his belly expanding.

"No!" Bastian screamed to his friend. But the
noises around them were too loud. There was too much chaos. Connor couldn't
hear him.

The fire roared out of his mouth, enveloping the red dragon
horde in a dancing blaze. Red, orange, and gold flames licked across them,
burning. Screams whispered on the wind as the dragons fell to the ground,
writhing in the dragon flame.

Each dragon began the change back. Arms and legs erased the
dragon limbs. Familiar faces, twisted in smoke. Flesh melted. Eyes wide in
terror. Adam in the front, an arm held out toward them.

Nothing could stop it.

It was too late.

Connor had killed them all.

"No!" Tressa screamed.

In Bastian's mind, her scream went on for many breaths.
Never stopping. She bucked against Jarrett's tight hold around her waist. Tears
streamed down her cheeks, echoing the tears falling from Bastian's eyes.

"He didn't know," he said to Tressa. "He
wouldn't have done it. He didn't know."

A hand touched Bastian's arm. He looked down. Elinor. She'd
found him. He collapsed into her small arms, letting her bear his sorrow. He
sank to his knees, burying his head in her stomach, his tears wetting her
dress.

Elinor's small hands ran through his hair. Her kisses
dotted his head. "I'm so sorry, Bastian. So, so sorry."

The cobalt dragon roared, then collapsed, transforming into
the man. Connor ran over to them. Bastian tossed Connor a change of clothes,
but Connor let them fall to the ground. "Who are those people? Who did I
just kill?" He looked from Bastian to Tressa. "What happened?"

"Connor." It was Elinor. Her voice was so soft,
even Bastian didn't hear the words that followed. He did hear Connor's keen.

"I was only trying to save you. I didn't know. I
swear, I didn't."

Bastian looked up. Wiping his tears on his sleeve, he
stood, clasping his friend. "You did the right thing."

"I killed them!" Connor grabbed his hair, yanking
so hard tufts tore out. He shrugged off Bastian.

Tressa had calmed, but she still clung to Jarrett. "We
were set up. Those bastards. They knew I was coming. I was lured there. They
knew, dammit. How did they know?"

Her chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, each one
growing in anger. Bastian fought his instincts. He wouldn't punch Jarrett and
take her in his own arms. She was where she wanted to be. Where she'd chosen to
be.

"I don't know," Jarrett said. "We were
careful. No one should have known we were here."

"Who is their ruler?" Fire burned in Tressa's
eyes. "I will have their head. They did this. They brought my people here.
Set them up to die. And the children. Where are they?"

"We are only six. A healer, four warriors, and a
dragon. We cannot take on the Red Queen. It is impossible. Our only hope in
this mission was to free your people. Smuggle them out," Jarrett said.

"We failed." Tressa words were spat out in
disgust. "I refuse to just leave the rest behind."

"Then fight, daughter."

The five spun around. Tressa's father, Fenn, stood in front
of them. With a cackle he transformed into a dragon, taller, wider, stronger
than Connor had been moments ago.

Chapter Fifty-Two

"Oh shit," Bastian mumbled under his breath.

The red dragon spread a vast pair of black wings and
snorted at the group. The fetid cloud enveloped them. Everyone but Elinor
coughed. She'd been smart enough to draw her arm over her mouth and nose.

"Connor?" Bastian asked.

He didn't answer. Naked, he ran off to the side, changing
faster than Bastian had ever seen him transform before.

The cobalt dragon faced the red, his jaws open, saliva
dripping from between his teeth. Connor was ready for blood.

Tressa's sword whizzed as she brandished it in the air.
"I'll ride Connor again." Before she could run toward him, Bastian
grabbed her arm.

"You'll stay right here," he said.

Jarrett grabbed her other arm. "Bastian is right.
You're not going anywhere. Getting in between these two would only lead to your
death."

"I did it before," she insisted between gritted
teeth. "I can do it again."

"You got lucky," Jarrett said. "Stacia was
half the size of this dragon. She was weak, arrogant."

"And you think he isn't?" Tressa spat on the
ground. "My father will die, and I want to be the one to run him
through."

Jarrett dropped his grip on her. "Your father?"
He gazed up at the dragon that was circling Connor, his claws bared, aggressive
jaws snapping.

"Yes. At least he was. Once upon a time. I don't know
what happened to him. Why he's turned into..." her lips snarled,
"this thing."

"Bastian! Oh, Bastian!" Bastian spun around. A woman
came running through the now deserted square.

"Mother!" He let go of Tressa and took off
running. He caught his mother's hand in his and pulled her to the safety of
their group by the monument. "Are you okay? I've been worried about
you." After he realized Fenn had been lying to him, he worried for her
safety. She collapsed into his arms, her chest heaving.

"Bastian?" He heard Elinor talking to him, but he
ignored her. His mother's safety was most important.

"Fenn is – "

Jayne placed a finger over his lips. "I know. Fenn is
the dragon. He's changed."

"Are you okay?" Bastian asked. He ran his hands
over her hair. She was so small compared to him. Such a tiny wisp of a woman,
but she was his mother and he would forever be her little boy.

"Bastian!" This time it was Tressa. What was
their problem?

A tug on his shirt interrupted his next question. He
shrugged it off. Then a strange sensation bit into his arms. Like claws tearing
at flesh. Blood gushing from an open wound. Eyes wide, he looked down at his mother.

Her eyes glowed a bright red. A slash of obsidian ran marred
the red glow.

"No," he said. He tried to step backward. To get
away, but her claws were embedded in his skin.

"I would suggest staying right where you are,"
she said, a forked tongue sticking out between her lips. "If you move,
you'll bleed out. I wouldn't want that to happen. Would you?"

Bastian shook his head. He'd come here, expecting to play
the hero just like he had in the misty forest. Just like he had when he'd saved
Elinor from the kilrothgi and when he'd challenged Connor. Not once had he
really thought he'd die.

Now his mother, the woman who'd brought him into this
world, held his life in her talons.

He heard footsteps coming behind him. "Stay back,"
he shouted over his shoulder. The footsteps stopped abruptly.

"He's right," Jayne said in a sweet voice.
"I'll kill him if any of you get closer. Now, where is Connor? He is the
beekeeper, is he not? I know he's not the dark one.” She pointed at Jarrett. “There
were no dark-skinned people in Hutton's Bridge. Those filthy buggers are from the
Sands. I see no other men with you. Now where is he?"

Bastian glanced up at Connor, still in a stalemate with
Fenn. Neither willing to strike first. Neither willing to back down.

"Tell me where your little beekeeper friend is. We
know he’s not dead, despite his wife’s pathetic pleas to the contrary, and I'll
let you go so that girl in the black robe can heal you." She winked, her
fat cheeks dimpling. "The healers here wear black too. It's their symbol of
control over death. Hopefully she can do her duty for you. Just tell me where
you are hiding Connor."

"If I tell you, will you call Fenn back from his
dragon form?" Bastian asked through gritted teeth. The pain was getting to
him. If she didn't release him soon, he might not be able to avoid passing out.
His head was already spinning.

Jayne sighed. "I suppose." She pursed her lips,
making a hooting noise.

"That sounds just like the noise Narek used to
make," Tressa said.

Jayne's lips spread, baring her teeth. "Ah yes, the
little owl you brought to us. Thank you. She was a very tasty meal. There's
nothing like owl wings roasted over an open fire."

"You bitch," Tressa screamed. "You killed my
owl!"

The scuffle of feet over brick told Bastian that Tressa was
trying to get to his mother. The whizzing in the air indicated a sword. Her
lack of appearance meant Jarrett was holding her back. Bastian smiled. He
wasn't woozy enough yet to not understand what was happening behind him.

"It's just a little signal we developed. The owl had a
quite a unique little trill to it. No one ever suspects it's us." Jayne
looked up at Fenn. "I suggest you call off your dragon, too," she
said, "or this is likely to end with a lot of blood."

"He does as he pleases," Jarrett called. "We
have little control over him."

It was true. Bastian knew better than anyone else how
precarious Connor's control was. How Jarrett knew was beyond his understanding.
He looked down at the blood dripping from his arms. He wanted to shake his
head, clear out the fog, but he couldn't. He was weak, so weak.

"Then Fenn will remain. He will kill your friend, and
I will kill my son. Then we'll kill you, dark man. Then these two helpless
little girls. We'll burn your bodies in the town square as an example. Traitors
die. They burn. No one defies us. No one."

"Wanna bet?" It was Tressa's voice. Bastian would
know it anywhere. But he didn't know where she was.

His mother didn't answer. There was only a strange gurgling
sound. Like water bubbling over a brook. But it wasn't water. It was thicker.
Smelled of copper. Everything swam in front of Bastian as she dug in deeper.
His eyes rolled, and he fell to the ground.

"Get her claws out of him, quick."

A pause.

Pain.

Searing, burning pain unlike anything he'd ever felt before.
A wave of nausea started in his stomach, riding up, and catching in his throat.
His lips parted. A bubble popped. Warm liquid spilled over his cheeks.

"He's going into shock. Help me pull him over here.
Hurry!" It was a frantic voice. "I can't heal him if we don't move
faster. It hasn't been a full moon yet. Help me!" The last one was a
screech. One filled with fear. Panic. Affection.

Bastian felt his body move. Not of his own volition. He was
being dragged. His head rested on a rock. Small hands moved over his arms.
Water washed over his wounds. Soft linen hugged his lacerations.

He smiled. She was helping him. Again.

Then everything went black.

 

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