“Once you make them aware of the dangers in the fog, will you follow them in or stay here and wait for Tressa?”
“I’m heading back into the fog to find her.” Bastian hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. But he knew when he spoke the words that he couldn’t sit idly by in the village while others went out there. He had to find her and make sure she was safe.
Udor slapped Bastian on the back. “Then I will stay. So if she arrives here while you’re out there, I can keep her safe for you.”
Bastian knew the implied threat. Still, it didn’t make sense. “Aren’t you afraid of the plague?”
Udor paced the room. “I should be, shouldn’t I? You haven’t seen the dead. Did your uncle tell you how many have passed?”
Bastian shook his head. They hadn’t had time to delve into the affairs of the village. He’d fallen asleep before he could learn much from Adam.
“About a dozen. It’s not many, considering the size of our village, but it’s enough to send people into a frenzy.” Udor stopped in front of a window. With a finger, he pushed back the curtain. Bastian could see the people outside. They milled around aimlessly. Arguing. No clear leader or consensus among them. “It is always this way. There are too many of them who want out. The plague has only provided them with a good excuse to leave. It’s what they want, you know. To leave.”
“And you have never wanted to leave.” Bastian knew the truth of it. Not once did he believe it a coincidence that Udor hadn’t ever been chosen to enter the fog.
“I love this town. And you know now, just as well as I do, that there are things out there that want to kill us.”
Bastian drummed his fingers on the table. “What things are you referring to?”
Udor rushed at Bastian and grabbed his red hair, scrunching it in his fingers like a wet cloth he wanted to wring dry. He twisted his wrist to the side. Bastian’s neck yanked down, his ear nearly touching shoulder. “The dragons. They’re coming.”
“Let me go or I swear I’ll drive your head into the wall and let it hang there like one of your trophies.”
Udor released his grip. Bastian stretched his neck from one side to the other, loosening up his muscles. He wouldn’t be caught unaware again.
“What do you mean, the dragons are coming?”
“You saw the one that landed here before you left. Have you seen more?” Udor’s eyes were wide and dilated. Almost as if he had smoked the tall grass on the edge of the pasture.
Bastian thought of the claws raking across Connor’s body as it disappeared into the door. Tressa swore it was a dragon like the one that had landed injured in Hutton’s Bridge. He knew the truth, though. The woman in the tree had injured the dragon, forcing it to make an unexpected landing. Or maybe it had meant to penetrate their town in the first place.
“No,” Bastian said. It wasn’t an outright lie. It had only been Tressa’s opinion. He couldn’t verify it then and certainly not now.
Udor hurried over to the enclosed bookcase where the village kept their most prized books. Riffling through the pages with a careful, but shaky, hand, Udor found the page he was looking for. His fat forefinger rested on a picture. He tapped it twice, uncaring that the gold leaf flaked off. “Dragon.” He pointed outside where the beast had landed the day Bastian left. “Dragons. There are more.”
Bastian knew there were. At least one. He hoped that was all.
“The history books tell of dragonlords. Men who ruled the dragons and therefore ruled the kingdom.” He sat down in the nearest chair.
“Tell me more,” Bastian said.
“Before the fog fell upon us, there were five dragonlords. One hailed from the north, two from the west, one to the south, and our own dragonlord on the Blue Throne. The peace was maintained until the Black Dragon in the south attacked his own people.” The old man scratched his beard, picked out a nit, and flicked it to the floor. “The other dragonlords debated attacking. They met at the town nearest to all of their borders – Hutton’s Bridge.”
Bastian’s eyebrows rose. He thought he’d heard all of the stories. Not this one. Not even a whisper.
“At the meeting, they decided to attack the Black. Show him that he couldn’t hurt his own people without facing retribution. Hutton’s Bridge was to be their main outpost for the war.”
The old man pushed the book in front of Bastian. He didn’t know how to read, but the pictures made it all obvious to him. “Why hasn’t anyone ever talked about this?”
“Sophia was the only one who knew. We found this book hidden in her cottage after the three of you left.”