Dragonlands(249)

"Tis true," Wyman said. "Every last scrap of metal we could salvage was melted and used to create this armor. It was our only protection. Without the ability to send our people to other lands for training with mages, we were left defenseless."

Blythe nodded. "Everyone thought we were changing our people into dragons to prepare for a battle. That's not why we did it."

"Then why did you?" Tressa asked. "It's not a comfortable process to undergo. I've had a lot of trouble adjusting." She picked up a series of steel spikes with a leather belt hanging from the sides. Imagining what it would have been like to have armor like this during the battle with the Red, Tressa couldn't help but wonder if they'd have lasted longer than they had. Instead, many had lost their lives. Too many to count.

"We did it so we would all be equals. And if someone didn't want to be changed, we left them alone." Blythe sat on a nearby bench. "The last thing anyone wanted was to take away the freedom of choice."

"But what about the children?" Tressa didn't mean to press, but she wanted to understand their motives better in case she was ever questioned about her association with them. "When I was here last, I met a set of siblings. They told me all babies who aren’t born as dragons are changed. None of them had the choice."

Renny turned his back on them, his torch burning low. "You said you could help us. How long will it take for you to be back with someone to set us free?"

"I'm not sure," Tressa said. She eyed Blythe, who had ignored her last question. They weren't telling and she had no leverage to make them talk. Still, the Meadowlands were willing to help her. That mattered most. "I can fly back to the Charred Barrens. It will take me most of the day and into the night to get to their stronghold."

"Interesting," Renny said, leading the way out of the barn and closing the door behind them. Valdus assisted him with putting the bar back down. "We thought the Black dragons were dead."

"We aren't." Tressa marveled at how quickly she'd adjusted to thinking of herself as one of them. Despite living in Hutton's Bridge for the majority of her life, she'd taken on the Black as her new family. She'd never felt at home anywhere. Now, with Fi, Tressa felt she'd finally found a place to call home in that underground city.

"Scouts were sent to the Charred Barrens many, many times over the years. They found nothing. Where were you hiding?" Blythe asked.

Tressa shrugged. If they wanted to keep their secrets about why they turned children, then she would keep the secret of her people.

"I'll be back as soon as possible with someone who can take down the barrier." Tressa held out her hand.

Renny pumped her hand twice. "We look forward to it."

"And you'll fight with us?" she asked.

Blythe smiled. "Absolutely. It's time to teach the Red and Yellow exactly what we think of them for locking in us up in here." She laughed, her head tossing back. "It's as if they think we're as dangerous as the people who once lived in Hutton's Bridge."

"Dangerous?" Tressa asked. She'd heard many stories about her town, but this was a first.

Blythe looked at Renny. He nodded. "Tell her."

"Well," Blythe said, "There is a theory in the Meadowlands about Hutton's Bridge. When the fog fell, we were all immediately cut off from Hutton's Bridge. It also kept us from reaching the rest of the Drowned Country without going by boat, which takes a long time from our ports. But one of our men decided to investigate. He returned more than a moon later, beaten, damaged, and on the brink of death. My great-grandmother cared for him, nursing him back to health. While he was recovering, he would have deep, dark nightmares, where he would scream about a young girl who tortured him in the woods. He swore he never made it to Hutton's Bridge, because he'd been lost in the fog. And he never spoke of this girl when he was awake. It was only in his darkest nightmares when he would speak in his sleep."

"Did he ever say the name of this girl?" Tressa asked, curious. It was unlikely she'd recognize any name they gave her, but still her curiosity won out.

Blythe nodded. "Oh yes, I know her name very well. My great-grandmother told me on her deathbed many years ago. She wanted someone to know, just in case it was important. In case the fog around Hutton's Bridge ever changed. And if the rumors are to be believed, it has."

Tressa raised an eyebrow, waiting for the name.

"The name of the girl who'd nearly killed him was Sophia."

Tressa's eyes snapped wide. "What did you say?"

"Sophia," Blythe said. "Do you recognize the name? It's a common enough name for the time, though not many name their children that anymore. It's very old-fashioned."