“You went through Tressa’s things?”
Udor sighed. “Bastian. No one ever comes back. The resources must be divided up amongst the rest of the villagers. It’s never been any different. Why should we have suspected you’d show up half-dead last night?”
He wanted to insist that he, Tressa, and Connor were different. That everyone should have known they’d return. He knew the truth as well as anyone else. They weren’t special. They were dead the moment they disappeared into the fog.
“If we leave and find a way to destroy the fog, it’ll re-ignite a war, placing us right at the center. Is that what you want, Bastian?”
He didn’t respond. He was too distracted by the image in the upper right corner.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Bastian puzzled over how to respond to the picture. He knew exactly what the drawing represented. The woman in the tree. What he didn’t know until that moment was that she wasn’t alone. If the drawing could be believed, there were three of them placed at the edge of the fog. Their protectors or their captors? Bastian wasn’t sure.
Even more disturbing was Sophia’s involvement. How much did she know? What hadn’t she told them?
“What else do you know?”
Udor shook his head. “The story ends there.”
Bastian ran a finger along the inner spine of the book. “It doesn’t end there. The pages are missing. Someone tore them out.”
Udor grunted. “I’m sure it was Sophia. She was one of the few who could read. Carrac, myself, and only a couple of others. She was hiding something from us.”
The door opened. Both Bastian and Udor tensed until they saw it was Carrac. The oldest person in the village since Sophia’s death, he was also on the council of elders.
“He knows,” Udor said with a wave of his hand. He filled Carrac in on what they’d been discussing.
“Sending people into the fog was her idea,” Carrac reminded Udor. “She was trying to get people out.”
Udor’s fist slammed into the table. “Then why didn’t she prepare anyone properly?”
“Excuse me,” Bastian said, his eyes locked on Udor, “weren’t you just trying to send people out there yourself?”
“As if I could stop them.” Udor snorted and wiped his arm under his wet nostrils. “You think people here do as I say? Rubbish. They do as they please. They’ve lived in fear their whole lives, prisoners to this village. Guess what? None of them wanted to leave because it was idyllic. That damn Sophia used the fog to scare people into staying.”
“It was rare someone volunteered,” Carrac agreed. “They knew it was a death sentence.”
Bastian had difficulty believing Sophia could have been so vindictive. She’d never seemed anything but adoring and honest. She loved the village and her people.
“I’ve seen one of them.” Bastian rested his finger on the woman to the southeast. In the picture she had flowing, long blond hair. Big blue eyes. Full lips. She looked nothing like the woman he’d seen. Yet he knew it was her. Who else could it be? Age and time and some form of magic had ravaged her body. Wrinkles as deep as an endless chasm. Her ample breasts wasted away until they resembled empty wineskins, drained of every last drop.
“You have?” Udor questioned him.
For the first time, they were allies. Bastian didn’t like that one bit.
“Then you know how to defeat her?”
Bastian shook his head. “I don’t. She uses magic to keep anything from making its way into the fog. She killed a bird and then tried to kill me.”
“But you survived,” Carrac said.
“I was lucky. In fact, my survival since I stepped through the fog has been nothing but sheer luck. I could have died many times over. My innards should be spread across the forest floor.”
“You made it outside the fog, didn’t you?” Udor asked. “Why haven’t you told us any of that yet?”
“When have I had time?” Bastian retorted. “I just recovered over night. I came out this morning, begging for everyone to wait until I could spread word of what’s awaiting them out there. No one wanted to listen. Don’t get on me for not telling you everything.”
Udor sank down onto the bench across the table from Bastian. Udor’s eyes were bloodshot. Weary, even. “Then tell us your story. Don’t leave anything out.”
Carrac remained standing while Bastian relayed the events of the past few days. He told them as much as he could, leaving out the private liaisons between himself and Tressa. That was none of their business, even though he was quite sure Udor would have enjoyed a detailed retelling.