Reckoning (Book 5) (12 page)

Bastian woke covered in sweat, his heart pounding. He'd had a nightmare, one he couldn't quite remember, but it was enough to tear him from his sleep. His stomach turned and his hands shook.

Bastian’s gaze fell on the skull he'd taken from the battlefield. The thing was grating on his nerves. He took a towel and tossed it over the bony head with the gaping eye sockets. Bastian still wasn't sure why he'd taken it, nor did he have any idea what he'd do with it. The skull had no secrets to tell.

Shrugging off the unease, Bastian stepped out into the morning light from the cottage. There were many empty homes in the Outpost now that more than half of the Green population had left for the west. Bastian thought of his children, hoping they were okay in the basket on Hazel's back.

Bastian made his way to the inn, his stomach growling. He had hunkered down in his cottage after the morning's battle to rest, and he'd forgotten to eat. The whole day felt like somewhat of a blur. He needed some time to clear his head, and the restless night's sleep hadn't helped like he'd hoped.

Jakob waved Bastian over to his table. The scent of fresh oatmeal permeated the air. Bastian took a deep whiff as he sat down across from Jakob.

"Has Connor returned yet?" Bastian asked. A serving woman set a bowl of steaming oatmeal in front of Bastian. He dug in, ignoring the searing pain on his tongue from the hot breakfast. He was so hungry he didn't care.

"No. Hopefully he'll be back soon with reinforcements," Jakob said between bites of bread. He wiped the crumbs from the corner of his mouth with a sleeve. "We helped the Black in their time of need. I'm hoping they will return the favor."

"I'm sure they will," Bastian said. "They are an honorable people." Tressa popped into his head, and he tried pushing her away. He shoveled another spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth.

"In the meantime, we wait. I won't seek out a battle. We'll stay here. Either our messenger will come back from the west, telling us it's safe to leave for a new settlement, or we will defend against any invaders." Jakob motioned for the serving girl to bring him another strip of jerky. "Maybe the battle will never come to us."

Bastian's jaw dropped. "But your sacred texts—"

"Are just that. It's a mark on paper. Do you really believe all of that could happen? No one is that powerful." Jakob tore a piece of jerky from the stick in his hand.

"If you think there's a chance it's not real, then why send everyone away?" Bastian couldn't eat another bite of food until he understood. The Green had gone to so much trouble preparing for this war, and they’d sowed so much fear among their people. "Blythe believes it, doesn't she?"

Jakob snorted. "Blythe believes tiny winged fairies pollinate the flowers. She thinks the world is full of magic. It doesn't take much to convince a weak mind." Jakob waved his jerky at Bastian. "You, on the other hand, are a practical man. I've seen it since the start. You didn't believe in the prophecy any more than I did."

It was true. Bastian hadn't trusted the drawing in a book—at first. "The blood moon. What of that?" he asked. Without that, he would have doubted Connor’s claim about the giant beast under the Red castle. Bastian liked to see things for himself. He wanted solid proof.

"The blood moon did give me pause," Jakob admitted. "It was as good a time to leave the Dragonlands as any other. It gave the people a reason to go. I will be happy to follow soon enough. I hope within a few days we'll be on our way to the west to join them."

"Oh, so that's your stake in this. You just want to leave the Dragonlands." Bastian slammed his spoon down on the table. He avoided all the eyes he could feel on him now. "You scared all of your people into leaving."

"Keep your voice down," Jakob warned. "The people here know me better than you. They'll believe me if I say you're a liar." He stood. "Come with me to a place we can speak more privately."

Bastian took another spoonful of his oatmeal, grabbed a hunk of bread from the bowl on the table, and followed Jakob out of the inn. Had it been any other time, Bastian would have been happy to confront the man publicly. It was different this time. Bastian's family had left with the others, and he wouldn't do anything to jeopardize their safety.

They ended up in the barn, the armor neatly hung again from the rafters. Jakob lit a torch. "The Red and the Yellow trapped our people behind a magical barrier for years. We weren't allowed to leave. The only trade we conducted was what they graciously offered us. We were prisoners in our own land. When the chance to leave came, I encouraged it. The Green should be able to do as they please. There is not one king or queen to rule us all. They cannot tell us what to do."

"I sent my children with the children of the Meadowlands to keep them safe," Bastian said, a slight growl at the back of his throat. "If they come to any harm because of your foolish plan, I will tear your arms off."

"And what if it is real?" Jakob asked. "What if the blood moon does signify something other than just a strange occurrence?"

"Then it is good we sent them," Bastian said, resignation trickling into his voice. He would have sent them even if he had known Jakob's intentions. He trusted Connor, and if Connor believed it was a possibility, then Bastian would defer to his friend.

Jakob clapped Bastian on the shoulder. "I believe your children will be safe. I wouldn't have sent mine if I thought it was dangerous."

"But you don't know what is over the sea," Bastian said. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because," Jakob said, his eyes narrowing, "there won't be any Red or Yellow dragons there to oppress them. If anything, our people will be the more powerful beings. They will command respect."

Bastian turned away from Jakob, rolling his eyes. He’d known the man was conceited, but this trumped all. "You're leaving the Dragonlands so you can be the most powerful being? That’s unfair."

"There is no fairness in life. Only survival. If you think otherwise, you are a fool," Jakob said.

Before Bastian could respond, the bells clanged in the courtyard. The doors were thrown wide open as men and women stormed into the barn, heading for their armor.

"What is it now?" Jakob asked one of the women.

"Another cloud like yesterday's," she called, continuing to her armor.

Jakob winked at Bastian. "Clearly we are facing a frightening foe. We'll defeat them again. If this is all they have to throw at us, then we will soon be leaving for the west, too. We will be with our families, Bastian. You can count on it."

Jakob sauntered away, leaving Bastian underneath his own hanging armor. He glanced up at the bright metal and sighed. He wished he knew what the future held. He wanted to believe it was all a coincidence, that the blood moon meant nothing, that these clouds of flying skeletons were the worst they would ever face.

Yet, he remembered the horror in Connor's eyes when he confessed the truth of the picture in the sacred texts. His fear was still palpable. Bastian hadn't trusted many people in his life, but Connor was one of the two who had his unflinching loyalty.

If his friend believed, then Bastian would treat every attack as if it was his last. He pulled the armor down and dragged it out to the courtyard. There were already many other dragons in the air, heading toward the east. A shriek rang out, just like the one he'd heard the day before on the battlefield, except this one was much closer. A skeleton dropped from the sky, swinging its sword.

Grabbing his sword from the ground where he'd left it, Bastian blocked the skeleton flying toward him. Bone grated on steel. Bastian pushed back against it, surprised at how strong it was as it pushed ever closer toward him.

Locked in place, his sword against the skeleton’s shoulder blade, Bastian tried to avoid staring at the glowing eyes, now pulsating with fire. But he couldn't look away. Something drew him in, closer and closer, until all he could see was the fire.

Bastian slumped to the ground, his sword clattering next to him.

He lay there, lost, confused, and weak. Around him, screams rang out. Feet stomped past him. Something fell on his clothes, wet and thick. He couldn't get up, couldn't find the energy within himself to care.

His fingers scrambled on the ground, searching for his steel. He pulled the hilt closer and wrapped his hands around it, holding the cool metal to his chest. Like a baby, he curled up on the ground, letting the world go on around him while he fell asleep.

"Bastian? Wake up." A hand shook his shoulder. "Bastian?"

He could hear the voices, but he couldn’t respond. His eyes remained closed while he listened in.

Footsteps echoed in the room. "Is he going to be okay?"

"I don't know. Without understanding the evil magic those skeletons possessed, it's hard to say."

Bastian stirred. He wanted to wake up and tell them what he’d seen. How the skull glowed. How it overpowered him. How it forced him into a deep sleep.

"He was lucky," the first voice said. Male. Renny. Yes, that was the name of the man. He had freckles spattered on his face. "At least he survived."

A hand gently pushed the hair out of Bastian's face. He'd felt that hand before. The woman who'd brought him back from the dead. Blythe. "Maybe if I give him some of my blood he will awaken. I just don't want to give him too much. The bond between us is sound, but any more and he will feel bound to me in a way my husband will not appreciate."

"Then I will give him mine," Renny said.

"No, he mustn't have yours, either."

"It should be mine," another voice said. It sounded familiar. Bastian strained to recognize the person who spoke. "Leave me to it."

There were no other words. Just the sound of shuffling feet and a door closing.

"Bastian?" He could feel lips tickling near his ear.

He opened his mouth, attempting to speak, but all that came out was a strangled groan. He still couldn't force his eyes open.

"Good. Keep your lips parted. I'm going to let my blood drop into your mouth."

Steel scraped across skin. Wetness dripped onto his lips. He forced his tongue to move, touching the blood and pulling it into his mouth. More came, then more, until he had to close his lips against the tide.

"I'm sorry if that was too much," the voice said. It was quiet. Caring.

He swallowed, the blood coursing down his throat and into his body. A jolt passed from his chest to his head. Another to his heart. Another to his legs and arms. Bastian's eyelashes fluttered, then his eyes opened wide.

He reached up, cupping her cheek with his hand. "Tressa?"

She smiled, resting her hand on his. "It's me. I'm sorry I took so long to come to you. At least I arrived in time to save you."

"Again," he said through a slight laugh. "I was supposed to be the one who kept you safe and saved you."

"It's okay," she said. "I don't mind. We need to take care of each other."

Bastian struggled to sit. Tressa placed an extra pillow behind his back, helping to prop him up. "What are you doing here? Did Connor find you in the Black? Did you come with reinforcements?"

"Too many questions at once," she said. "You need to rest. Get your strength back. Then we can discuss what happened. Can I bring you any food?"

Bastian's stomach rumbled, but he still wasn't ready to eat. "Just some water?"

Tressa picked up a pitcher from the side table and poured water into a cup. She handed it to Bastian. He took it from her with a shaking hand. A droplet of water splashed out, landing on her hand. Bastian wiped it away, letting his fingers linger a moment longer than necessary. "Thank you."

He took a long drink, then set the cup down. "Also, thank you for the dragon blood."

Tressa laughed. "I'm glad it worked. I wasn't sure I had any left in me."

Bastian crinkled his eyes. "I don't understand. Connor said you were a Black dragon now. How could the blood be gone?"

Tressa sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. "It's a long story. I was born with dragon blood, apparently. It's part of who I am. But, Donovan, he..." she paused, rubbing her arm.

"What did he do to you?" Despite his lack of strength, Bastian’s chest began to pound.

"Nothing I didn't let him do," Tressa said. "He used some kind of leech to suck out my dragon blood. It worked. I couldn't change. But, then I did. I almost died, turned back into a human, and now I seem stuck that way... no matter how much dragon blood I drink. I'm just glad there's still enough in me to help you. I wanted to give it a try, at least. If I failed, someone else could have done it."

Bastian rested a hand on her thigh. "I'm glad you did and I'm glad it worked. I could hear your conversation. I don’t want to be any more closely bound to Blythe than I already am."

Tressa laughed, her dark hair rippling over her shoulders. Neither of them spoke, staring awkwardly at each other instead.

"Tell me what happened out there." Bastian nodded toward the window.

"My friends and I ran into Connor. We had been traveling here, looking for you, actually. We pushed through the night to get here, and it's a good thing we did. We came in behind a flying army of skeletons. They weren't too hard to defeat, but had we not arrived when we did, I don't know what would be left standing in the Meadowlands. Those skeletons were pretty tough." Tressa stood, letting Bastian's hand slip onto the bed. She walked over to the window, pulling the curtains aside. Starlight shone onto the table.

"It's nighttime," Bastian said, surprised. "How long was I out?"

"A couple of days," Tressa said. "You must have been hit on the head. Whatever it was really knocked you out."

Bastian thought of the skeleton, so much like the one whose skull was still sitting on his bedside table, covered by the towel he'd thrown over it the day before.

"Yeah, one of those skeletons. I don't remember. I'm glad you made it in time to help us. You always seem to show up when you're needed." Bastian forced himself to not say what he was really thinking. Why didn't she show up when she was wanted? Why was it always out of necessity? After all, he already knew the answer. She'd made it clear to him that she'd chosen another man over him. Even though Jarrett was no longer a candidate for her affections, Bastian didn't want to be her second choice.

"I do my best to keep my friends safe and alive," Tressa said. She looked toward the door. "Unfortunately that battle was only the beginning. We suffered losses yesterday. A few of the Green died, as well as a few of my warriors. We can't afford to lose any more if we're to defeat Donovan."

"So there are more coming?" Bastian asked. "The Green have prophecies. Some feel the time has come for them to bear fruit."

Tressa whirled around to face him, fire dancing behind her eyes. "Prophecy is irrelevant. The only thing that matters is defeating Donovan. Giving him some kind of symbolic power over us will only lead to our destruction. If we believe we can defeat him, then we have a chance. It's that simple."

Bastian shook his head, smiling.

"What?" Tressa asked, cocking her head to the side. He missed that frustrated expression on her face. The one that, in the past, usually led to him kissing her. Bastian couldn't resist Tressa when she was angry.

"I believe you. If you say we can defeat Donovan, then I will follow you."

Tressa slumped down in a chair. She rested her elbows on the table, her head in her hands. "People are going to die. I want to avoid that, but I don't know how to save everyone."

"You can't make choices for them," Bastian said. He wished he had enough energy to stand, to comfort her with his embrace. "You can lead them, but each warrior must weigh the odds of success in their individual actions. There comes a time when you have to trust them and let go."

Tressa looked up, a wry smile on her face. "When did we become these people, Bastian? What happened to the simple villagers we used to be?"

"They're still in the fog, between the world of Hutton's Bridge and the world we live in now. I think they'll stay hidden there forever," he said.

Tressa nodded. "You're right. We are no longer the same people. And yet... some things never change." She stepped over to his bedside, laying a kiss on his forehead. Then she turned and left him alone in his cottage.