Dragonlands(181)

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.





Chapter Fifty-Three


"Bastian's being taken care of by that woman. Let's end this." Tressa withdrew her sword from Jayne’s back. The woman thumped onto the ground, blood leaking from the wound Tressa had inflicted. Tressa spun the sword from side to side, the blood flinging off the blade. It was a little trick she'd learned from her mentor, Leo. She nudged Jarrett. "Are you with me?"

"Do I have a choice? If I said no, would you sheath your sword and walk away with me? Let the dragons fight it out?" He placed a hand on her arm. "Your people are dead."

Tressa forced her eyes away from the charred bodies. "Just the adults. The children are here. Somewhere."

"Then let's fight," Jarrett said. "We didn't start this, but we might as well do our best to finish it."

A smile spread across her face. He was brave. So handsome. She might even allow herself to truly love him someday. "Let's take down the red dragon."