Desolation (Dragonlands Book 4) (7 page)

Connor sat up, a silly grin on his face. He couldn't stop smiling if he tried.

"Wow," Hazel said, her head snuggled on his chest, her hand on his hip. "That was... different."

Insecurity flooded Connor. He had no idea what it had been like before. Maybe he'd done something wrong. "Sorry," he said.

Hazel laughed, her body shaking against his. "It wasn't a criticism. Not at all. I suspected things might be different when we were finally together again." She sat up, pulling the sheet up to cover her naked body. "You've changed."

"You like me better now?" he asked, unsure what he wanted the answer to be.

"No. Not better. It's just... different. I don't know how to explain it." Hazel nuzzled Connor's shoulder. "I know I liked it, though." She kissed his cheek, her lips warm. "But we need to get back to the kids."

"I think they're in good hands," Connor said. Despite wanting to take things slow with his wife, he couldn't seem to keep his hands off of her. His fingertips skimmed over her collarbone, eliciting a gasp from her swollen lips.

Hazel's crooked smile crept across her face. "Tonight we'll move back into our cottage. We'll bring the children with us." She nodded to the left. "Don't forget, we have a door to our bedroom. Except..."

"What?" Connor asked, perplexed by the confused look on Hazel's face.

"Where do Fotia and Vatra like to sleep? I know they've been outside with you, but we can't just leave them out there by themselves. Can I make a nest for them? Put blankets on the floor? Should they have a bed to share like the boys?" Hazel jumped out of bed and pulled on her underthings. She grabbed a dress out of the wardrobe, then sneezed. "I forgot I haven't been in here in ages. My dresses are all covered in dust."

"The bed didn't seem to be," Connor said. He smacked the mattress filled with straw to prove his point.

"I think we, um, bounced all of it out of the bed," Hazel said as she pulled the dress over her head. "Now about the dragons..."

"I think they'd be okay inside with a blanket," Connor said as he sat up. Hazel tossed him a dusty pair of pants. He shook them out, then slipped them on. "It's really sweet of you to think of them."

Hazel grabbed his shoulders. "They are my children now, too. I mean that. We are a family, Connor."

He looked into her grey eyes, his face serious. Hazel was offering him everything. She took hold of tragedy and turned it into something beautiful.

Hazel let her arms drop, her mouth set in a frown. "Of course, only if that's what you want. I didn't mean to pressure you."

It was Connor's turn to laugh. "I'm sorry. I was just thinking about how amazing you are."

"Took you long enough." Hazel winked and punched Connor's arm. "Now let's get back to the village hall."

He reached out and grabbed her wrist as she was about to walk out the door. "You know we can't stay here tonight. Not any night soon."

Hazel sighed, her shoulders drooping. "You're going to leave again, aren't you?"

"That shadow could come back," Connor said. "Should I wait here for it or look for help?"

"Look for help," Hazel said. "Of course. I know that, but I hate being away from you now. It's selfish. I want you to stay."

Connor wrapped his hands around Hazel's waist and pulled her close. "Then come with me," he whispered.

"What?" She pulled away, but Connor wouldn't let her go. "I can't. The children—"

"They're safe here with Pia. You saw what she did! We can go for help and let her protect the children, along with Lily and the healers."

"But..."

"But nothing," Connor said. He kissed Hazel on the tip of her nose. "It's settled. You're coming with me. I refuse to let go of you now. Let's pack and be on our way. We can ask for help and be back in three days."

"What if Pia says no?" Hazel asked. "She might not want to protect the children. She doesn't even like children."

Connor laughed. "She's going to have to get used to it sooner or later. No more arguing. Pack." He pulled Hazel back into the cottage.

"Okay, okay, I'll come with you." Hazel grabbed a bag from the wardrobe. She opened the window and shook the bag, letting all the accumulated dust out. "Maybe one change of clothes?"

"One for me, too," Connor said. He reached over her shoulder, stuffing his own clothes in the same bag.

"Where will we go?" Hazel asked him.

"To the Red. Sophia is there and I think she's our best bet at learning about the shadow. She seems to know more than she lets on."

"I still can't believe she's alive," Hazel said. "The dragons perform miracles."

Connor snorted. "I wouldn't call what they do a miracle."

Hazel spun and wrapped her arms around Connor. "You're still with me. If that's not a miracle, I don't know what is."

"Hazel." Connor stepped away. "What happened to me was horrible. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. I'm lucky we're together again, but it was no miracle. Twisted, evil magic brought me back to life."

"I look at it differently." Hazel cinched the bag closed and set it down on the table. "When you walked into the fog, holding hands with Tressa and swearing you'd be back for me, I wanted more than anything to believe it. I told our boys you'd come home. I kept my back straight and my eyes dry, but at night I sobbed into the mattress. I knew you wouldn't return. I couldn't tell the boys that. I had to give them hope that you would be the lucky one who made it back."

Connor rested his arm on Hazel's shoulder.

"When Bastian returned through the fog and told me you were dead, it felt like losing you a second time. I'd already said goodbye to you, but I had to do it again when I saw Bastian was alive and you weren't with him. After I learned everything that had happened to you, I decided whatever had kept us apart was only a stumble. Having you back in my life was all that mattered. I drove Bastian crazy with all of my questions about you when we were in Ashoom. The last thing I wanted was to scare you, so I let Bastian bear the brunt of my concerns."

Connor’s friend was a kind man, but Bastian wasn't good at interacting with women, particularly not on an emotional level. "Was he understanding?"

Hazel smiled. "He was, but he kept telling me to talk to you about it. I think that was his subtle way of telling me to leave him alone." She paused and both were silent. "And now Bastian is gone. Unless there's a chance...?"

"No." Connor shook his head. "I saw Bastian die."

"Unless what happened to you happened to him," Hazel said. "What if another dragon is out there bringing the dead back to life?"

"I hope not," Connor said. "Bastian would hate being a dragon. He could barely stand that side of me."

"Then, for his sake," Hazel said, "may Bastian rest in peace."

Connor glanced around the little cottage. Soon it would be his home again. It would be the place he'd raise his family—human and dragon—in peace. Unfortunately there was still work to be done before he could count on that dream becoming a reality.

"Are you ready?" he asked Hazel.

She took a deep breath. "I can't believe I'm about to leave my babies behind and fly off with my husband, the great sapphire dragon."

"Let's tell them," Connor said, clasping her hand. "We have to do it before you change your mind."

Hazel squeezed his hand and they set off for the village hall. Connor hoped Pia would agree to protecting the village until they came back. The woman owed him, after all. Without him, she'd still be hiding in her cottage back in Ashoom.

Bastian's eyelids snapped open.

He looked right and left, up and down, but saw nothing other than utter darkness.

His heart pounded in his chest. His heart! Pounding!

He was alive.

But how?

He tried to move his arms, but they were tied down. The same with his legs.

Bastian thrashed to no avail.

"He's awake," a woman said somewhere in the darkness.

Bastian blinked again, confused. Was he blind, or was it simply dark?

A sharp prick of cold steel touched his neck.

"Who were you fighting for?" the woman asked.

Bastian thought of his daughter first. "Farah."

"I don't know any Farah." The blade pressed deeper. Blood trickled down his neck. "What color is the dragon you follow?"

Bastian thought of Connor. "Blue."

"Interesting," the woman said. The prick didn't go away. It also didn't go any deeper. "There is only one Blue dragon. We do not know his allegiance, though he appeared to fight with the Black."

The Black. Those were the dragons Tressa had joined. Tressa! Why had it taken him so long to remember her? He had seen the horror in her eyes as he killed Jarrett. He didn't know where she stood either.

"Black," Bastian said. "We were meeting the Black and Green. We fought for them." He hoped that was the right answer. If the Red had captured him, then his arse was on the line. Still, he couldn't bring himself to lie. Not anymore. Not after what Elinor had done to him.

Bastian let out a little groan. Was she still alive? His sacrifice might have been in vain. What had she told him?
As long as your heart beats, so does mine.

Bastian could have sworn his heart had stopped beating. He thought he'd met death. Unfortunately it appeared the world had given him another chance.

"Close your eyes," the woman said. The prick left his neck. "Light the torch," she called.

Bastian obeyed, but he could still see the bright light through his closed lids. The woman loosened the bonds holding him down. He stretched carefully, then opened his eyes.

He was inside some kind of barn. Torchlight glinted off metal hanging from the loft. Bastian sat up gingerly and rubbed his wrists.

The woman stood across from him. Her dirty blond hair hung past her shoulders while her green eyes locked on his. She crossed her arms over her chest and smirked. "Welcome back. How does it feel to rise from the dead? I'm Blythe, by the way."

"What are you talking about?" Bastian asked. He didn't jump off the table. He had no idea how long he'd been unconscious and his feared his legs would be weak. "How long was I out?"

"Not long," she said. "Only a few days. Not enough time to lose your memories, thankfully. The other two couldn't prove their loyalty, so we had to return them to their death. Can't have Red sympathizers walking around the Meadowlands."

She wasn't making any sense. "What do you mean 'rise from the dead?'" Bastian asked.

"You were dead," Blythe said. "You know that, right? You died in battle."

"I don't understand." Bastian looked around again. "Am I in the afterlife? It's not what I expected."

Blythe laughed, her shoulders shaking. "No. This isn't the afterlife. I brought you back to life. A bit of my blood, and you're as good as new. Actually, you're better than you were before."

"Really?" Bastian asked. He stood. His legs seemed solid. "How am I better?" Bastian flexed his arm, a rock-solid muscle popping out. Yeah, he still had it.

"You're a dragon now." She said it so matter-of-factly that Bastian questioned his hearing.

"No, I'm not," he said. "I'd rather be dead than be a dragon."

"I'm more than happy to kill you, if that's what you want. But I'd rather not." Blythe deftly tossed a dagger in the air. Bastian watched it spin and land in her palm over and over again. "I chose you for a reason."

Bastian sat down on the table, suddenly weak. He looked up at the metal and could see it more clearly now. Armor. Dragon armor. Bastian's head slipped into his hands. She'd mentioned the Meadowlands. He vaguely remembered hearing that every person in the Meadowlands had been turned into a dragon and that's why the barrier had been erected between them and the Red and Yellow.

"Why me?" he asked.

Blythe walked over to the table. "You're strong. That's clear by looking at your body. You take great pride in being physically fit. We need more warriors who can withstand battle. There is a great war coming. We in the Meadowlands have known this for a very long time. Our elders passed this knowledge on to every succeeding generation. We must prepare for the inevitable war. If we are to survive, we must bolster our numbers."

"I thought we were beating the Red back there."

"This is not a war concerning dragons," Blythe said. She sat next to him on the table. "This is about what lies in our past and what is lurking in our future. If we are to have any chance of surviving, we need more warriors."

Bastian's stomach sank to his feet. "How do you know it's true? Maybe it's just the ramblings of old people who pass fear down to the next generation."

Blythe sighed. "Because we have a list of events that have been foretold. They are unfolding now. The first was Hutton's Bridge getting lost behind the fog. The next was the war between the dragons. We are on the cusp of the next reveal. I refuse to be caught with my pants down."

In the past Bastian would have had a sexual thought in response to such a remark, but something had changed inside him. He felt more serious, less interested in a quick score. "And how do I fit into this?"

"The Book of Foretelling speaks of a man who will lead us to victory. It says he is brave and strong, and that he will come to us from a land without dragons. It also says he will rise from the dead, stronger than ever, with the blood of a Green dragon running through his veins." Blythe rubbed her hands together. "We were recently released from the magic that kept us trapped in the Meadowlands. You are one of three we took from the carnage of the battlefield. You are the only ally we found."

"So you think this man is me?" Bastian asked, wary. He was so tired of fighting. He had a daughter to return to, and it was possible Elinor had lived, too. He needed to know what fate had befallen them.

"I don't know," Blythe admitted. "I was willing to try. I cannot be blamed for trying to save my people."

"By forcing a prophecy on a dead man," Bastian said. "I'm not sure that's how prophecy works."

"No one knows how prophecy works," Blythe said. "Only that it always comes true. Was it our actions or was it inevitable? No one can say."

"And if I choose to walk away?" Bastian asked.

"I'll kill you before you leave this building." Blythe snaked her arm around his neck, pressing the dagger into his throat once more. "You either agree to help us or you will die again. It is that simple."

"Will I ever be free?" Bastian asked. Assuming Connor had made it back to Hutton’s Bridge after the battle, he would have told Farah her father was dead. She would move on without him, an orphan. But if he could give the Green dragons what they wanted, and if he lived through it, he could return to her one day.

Blythe nodded. "Yes. After all is done, you will be free."

"Then I will do what I can to help you." Bastian took a deep breath, knowing he needed to address the one thing he wished he could ignore. "About being a dragon..."

"You’ll soon learn to love it. Everyone does. It imparts a feeling of power unlike anything you've ever felt. We will teach you everything you need to know." Blythe sheathed the dagger on her hip.

Bastian breathed a sigh of relief. She must have decided he was no longer a threat. And perhaps he wasn't. Maybe all of this could work out. He was alive, after all. Beating death was only the first obstacle. He'd seen Connor survive the same transition mostly unscathed. His friend only lacked his memories, but Bastian's were still fully intact.

Especially the memories of the woman he loved. He'd killed for her. With Jarrett gone, maybe he and Tressa would find their way back to each other. The last time they'd made love in Hutton's Bridge, when she'd told him about her miscarriage, something had been different. They'd agreed it was the last time they'd ever be together, that it was only a reflection of the past. Yet, Tressa had made love to him with a hunger he'd never experienced before. She'd changed somehow, and now he had, too.

Bastian held out a hand to Blythe. They shook hands firmly. "Then I will stay,” Bastian said. “I will do my best to learn. However, I can't guarantee I'm the warlord you're looking for."

Blythe’s eyes narrowed and she cocked her head.

"What?" Bastian asked. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," Blythe said, waving a hand. "It's nothing. Come, follow me. You have a lot of work ahead of you."

Bastian followed Blythe out of the barn and into the dark of night. Stars twinkled above them.

A shadow crossed over the stars and flew across the light of the moon.

A dragon—the thing he hated most.

And now he was one of them.