Warped (Maurissa Guibord)

of granite fell and crushed its head.

Chapter 41

The dragon lay sprawled on the ground, its huge green skull hollowed in by its own tombstone. It let out a last hot, hissing sigh and died. Just as with the lymerer, the dragon's body was soon enveloped in a shroud of vapor.
    Will flew down the stairs and arrived panting at Tessa's side. He turned to Tessa, his face stricken, the skin around his lips pale white. "The next time you have a plan," Will heaved, catching his breath, "Please. Just don't. " He hugged her to him. They both watched as a coil of swampy-colored green thread drifted away and the dragon disappeared.
    "Another thread," said Will. "Another life to be gathered back in by Gray Lily."
    Tessa, covered with dust and splatters of rapidly disappearing dragon blood, was still dazed as Will pulled her tighter. She sagged against him, grateful for the support. Every muscle in her body seemed to be quivering from either exhaustion or relief. And after seeing the thread of the dragon drift away, she felt impossibly tired. What the Norn wanted her to do was more than impossible. It was hopeless.
    "Now listen to me." Will spoke into her hair, and maybe he sensed her despair; his voice was fierce and low. "I don't care what happened before. I don't care what happens tomorrow. You will do whatever you must. I trust you."
    The words filled Tessa with a pure, strong joy.
    He drew back and looked at her. His eyes were blazing. "And I love you. I have loved you from the first time I saw you."
    "That was a long time ago," Tessa murmured, looking into his eyes. "Some things change."
    "Some things don't," Will answered. He pulled her into a tight embrace and kissed her.
    After their lips parted, Tessa whispered, "I love you too. Today and always."
    Will stepped back and smiled. "I think we can hold out here against whatever Gray Lily sends," he said. He took her hand and they climbed to the tower window once more, lugging their weapons.
    "I think you may be right, Esquire de Chaucy," said Tessa. It was true; suddenly she felt that together they could handle anything. She smiled to herself. Together they would find a way. She stole a glance at Will, remembering something. Marriage to a girl with a large estate, soldiering or the priesthood .
    "By the way," she said. "I was thinking about those three career choices you mentioned?"
    "Hmm?"
    "You can forget about two of them."
    "Which two?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.
    "You figure it out."
    "Ah."
    They came to the window and looked out at the grassy expanse. Tessa's smile faded.
    Down below, Gray Lily was no longer alone. Beside her stood a man dressed all in black. Tessa could see a frizz of reddish hair and a pale, freckled scalp.
    "Moncrieff," she gasped. She turned to Will. "That's Moncrieff. The lawyer."
    Will narrowed his eyes. "Really?" he remarked. He watched the man, who began to walk slowly toward them and raised his head. "He doesn't look very ..."
    Will trailed off and let out a low, strangled cry. Tessa looked up to see his face contorted in a disbelieving stare.
    "What is it?"
    Will spun away and raced down the steps. "It's Hugh!" he shouted. "That's my brother! "

Chapter 42

Moncrieff, or the man who had once been called Hugh de Chaucy, stepped across the drawbridge and let out a weary sigh. He turned and looked across the green hills, the meadow. This place reminded him of home so much that his chest ached. He had once been Hugh de Chaucy, stocky and strong and a match for anyone, man or beast. But no longer. He was barely human anymore.
    Will raced down the stairs two at a time and reached the heavy iron gate of the castle, his eyes fixed on his brother's face. "Hugh!" he shouted as the other man approached. He pushed his arms through the grate and clasped his brother around the shoulders, pulling him into an awkward embrace.
    Standing behind Will, Tessa saw the man she had known as Moncrieff freeze, his pale blue eyes wide with shock. He stared at Will through the metal bars. For a moment he only moved his mouth in silent, quivering shock. His voice, when he spoke, was nearly gibbering:
    "W-Will. Will? No, by Christ, it is a ghost. More of her witchery."
    Will tightened his grasp on Hugh's arms and gave him a shake, as if to wake him up from a dream. "It's me, " Will said.
    Hugh flinched in his grip. Will's face registered surprise as he held the flabby, withered arms of his once-ox-strong brother.
    "What has happened to you?" Will whispered. "How do you