“Sure, Pa.” He shouldered the carrots and headed to the smithy. How many sacks would he haul and how many carrots would he harvest before he had a real adventure? Probably hundreds. Thousands. Tomaaz sighed, trudging away.
§
Hans floated on his back in the warm water. He and Marlies had discovered this swimming hole years ago, when they’d first arrived in Lush Valley and settled on their farm near the forest. It was his favorite place to bathe.
His son was scrubbing at his curls with more vigor than usual.
Hans raised an eyebrow at Tomaaz. “Going somewhere special later?”
“Just off for a walk.”
Hans couldn’t help grinning. Did Tomaaz think he was a fool? He’d taken so long delivering those potatoes, and it hadn’t only been that sword fight with Ezaara that had delayed him. And he’d been as jaunty as a songbird when he’d returned. “I know market day’s a welcome break, but tomorrow, we’ll need to get back to harvest, Son.”
“I know.” Tomaaz dived under, then popped up, floating on his back, too.
Laughing, Hans waded ashore and dried himself. “Come on, we’ve got stock to feed before you go off on your walk.” He pursed his lips, blowing Tomaaz a kiss.
“Hey!” Tomaaz swept his arm across the river’s surface, spraying him. “You can feed the stock yourself, just for that!”
Hans laughed and tugged his clothes on. Marlies’ flatbread and soup might be ready by the time they returned. He bent to tie his boots.
Was that a tingle in his chest? After all these years?
He’d never had that feeling since living here. He scanned the sky—as he had done every day since they’d settled in Lush Valley. The tingling grew stronger, pulsing across his ribs. The range and focus of his vision extended.
There, a flash in the distant sky. Moments later, he saw another.
Keeping his voice casual, Hans addressed his son, “Want a race through the forest to the clearing?”
Still in the river, Tomaaz grinned. “The loser cleans the dinner bowls?”
“You’re on.” Hans took off.
“Hey,” Tomaaz called, splashing out of the water behind him. “Not fair!”
Hans threw caution to the wind, racing ahead.
The power in his chest intensified and he sped forward, leaping logs, charging through the forest. Liquid fire sang in his veins.
With his enhanced dragon sight, Hans recognized the mighty multi-hued dragon approaching from the north. The dragon was circling down toward … there, through the trees … his daughter! Shards! Zaarusha, the dragon queen, was coming for Ezaara!
No!
An eye for an eye, but this was crazy. If he could get there in time, perhaps he could reason with the dragon queen. He raced through the forest to the sacred clearing.
“No! Ezaara!” he cried out, as she jumped. Hans gathered his strength and sprang into the air. His fingertips grazed the tip of her boot as she shot skyward. He fell to the earth.
The dragon was too fast. She already had Ezaara.
Energy ebbed from Hans’ body as Zaarusha winged her way toward the distant ranges. The dragon queen had found them. And Ezaara was gone.
What a price for an innocent mistake. His breath whooshed from his chest.
Several clear stones were scattered on the grass. He grabbed them, rubbing their smooth oval surfaces and pointed ends. Zaarusha had left him calling stones.
Twigs cracked and leaves rustled. Someone was coming.
Hastily, Hans pocketed the stones, mentally cursing the silly tales of dragons carrying off young maidens, made up years ago to keep young girls close to home. Such stupid tales might help folk guess what had happened.
Marlies broke into the clearing, breathing hard. “Hans! Where are the children? Tomaaz? Ezaara? Are they all right?”
“Zaarusha came. Ezaara’s gone.”
“No!” Marlies whispered, her face hollow. “My baby!”
Nearly seventeen, Ezaara was hardly a baby, but Hans felt the same—Zaarusha had raided their nest. “There may be hope yet. Zaarusha wants us to contact her.” He showed Marlies a calling stone.
Marlies recoiled. “Contact her?”
Hans gripped her arm. “It may be our only chance of seeing Ezaara again.”
Her breath shuddered. “Oh, Hans, what have I done? It’s my fault. If only I hadn’t touched her dragonet’s egg …” She sagged against him.
Hans cocooned her in his arms. “You didn’t know. It was an innocent mistake.”
Marlies’ turquoise eyes were heavy with tears. “I’ll fix this. I have to. Please, pass me the stone.”
“Don’t be afraid.” Hans tried to comfort her, in vain. If only he could stop his own heart from hammering like a battle drum.
§
Afraid? Marlies shivered. That didn’t even start to describe the emotions rushing through her. She could still hear the dragon queen’s shriek when Zaarusha had discovered her dead dragonet. Her roars had shaken the mountainside, setting off avalanches. Only the billowing clouds of snow had prevented Marlies and Hans being spotted as they’d fled Dragons’ Hold on Liesar’s back.
She couldn’t guess what sort of punishment Zaarusha had given Liesar for helping them flee.
“Marlies.” Hans’ voice was urgent. “Quick, use the stone before Zaarusha’s out of range.”
Taking the stone from Hans, Marlies rubbed the flat surface. She gritted her teeth, straining to hold Zaarusha’s face in her mind—a face she’d spent years trying to forget. A face that had stalked her nightmares.
Hans grasped Marlies’ shoulder and mind-melded with her, giving her strength.
Even the breeze seemed to hold its breath as colors swirled across the crystal’s surface. A shape formed—Zaarusha. Golden eyes regarded Marlies.
The pounding in her chest was so fierce, she was sure the dragon queen could hear it. Nearly eighteen years they’d hidden, burying their sorrow, and rejoicing in the lives of their children. Marlies dipped her head in a bow. “My Queen.”
“Am I?” Zaarusha’s voice rumbled through Marlies’ mind like boulders shifting in a flooded river.
Marlies remembered the purple dragonet crooning to her, singing—then suddenly lifeless and dead, floating in its translucent shell. Pain stabbed at her. Her own pain? Or was she feeling Zaarusha’s?
It made no difference; the royal dragonet was gone. Marlies fell to her knees, still clutching the calling stone. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I.” Zaarusha rumbled. “Sorry my baby died.”
“It was an accident. I didn’t mean to—”
“An accident that blessed you with fertility.”
Marlies’ throat tightened. “I—I didn’t know. I—” Her tears fell onto the crystal, blurring Zaarusha’s image.
“You fled—that was an act of cowardice.”
She nodded. Zaarusha was right. Terrified of facing the dragon queen, she’d run, dragging Hans with her. “I was horrified at what I’d done.”
“Yes, you killed my baby.”
Her crime was out in the open, stark and raw. “So, now I must pay for my cowardice.” Swallowing the lump that threatened to choke her, Marlies whispered, “And that price is my daughter ….”
“No, your daughter is not a price. I need your bravery.”
What sort of answer was that? “I understand, Zaarusha. You want Ezaara. Your baby for my daughter.”
“No. It’s Ezaara’s destiny to be Queen’s Rider. My dragonet blessed you with fertility in its dying moments and gifted Ezaara with special talents. Being Queen’s Rider is her right, not a payment.”
“I don’t understand …”
“I need you, Marlies. My son is captive, held by Zens in Death Valley. Zens’ tharuks are making inroads into the realm as we speak. I can’t leave to save my son and I can’t spare Tonio—the only other spy I’d trust to rescue him. Save my son, and I will forgive your recklessness.”
Marlies held her breath. “An
d if I fail?”
“I hope you won’t.”
Marlies swallowed. If she failed, she’d be dead—murdered by Zens or his tharuks.
Her heart ached for Zaarusha. She’d not only lost her dragonet, she’d now lost a fully-grown son. Perhaps she could ease Zaarusha’s pain—and her own. After all these years, the dragonet’s blood still made her palms itch. Although nothing would ever cleanse her hands, she could do this. She’d slink into Death Valley and free Zaarusha’s son, saving a royal dragon—and perhaps some slaves with him.
Still mind-melded with Hans, she sensed his alarm. “I’ll do it, Zaarusha. Please, tell me everything I need to know.”
Via the calling stone, Zaarusha shared an image with Marlies and Hans: a narrow mountainside pass winding down into an eerie mist-shrouded valley. Devoid of vegetation, the chasm looked as if it was waiting to swallow Marlies, to suck away her life. Marlies’ stomach curled in on itself. “I don’t know this place.”
“It’s Death Valley.”
Hans’ shocked eyes met Marlies’. “It’s changed,” he mind-melded, “but so have we in the last eighteen years.”
“I’m nearly out of range,” Zaarusha said. “Marlies, do you accept this responsibility?”
“Yes, I do.” The weight lifted from Marlies’ shoulders, but another settled in its place—this task was no easy stroll through a flower-strewn meadow.
“Please, Marlies, return my son to me.” The image grew blurry and Zaarusha’s voice faint.
“Look after Ezaara,” Marlies melded.
Colors flickered on the crystal, then it was blank.
Marlies exhaled. “She’s right, Hans. I was a coward.”
His green eyes blazed. “We can do this. I know we can.”
“Hans, she didn’t ask you.”
“But I fled, too. Ezaara and Tomaaz are our children. We—”
“I have to do this, Hans. We’ve no choice. I can’t sneak you and Tomaaz into Death Valley, and you know he won’t stay here on his own. I have to go alone.” Marlies whipped her knife out of her belt, brandishing it in the air. “I will fulfill your quest, Zaarusha, and reclaim our daughter,” she called, throwing the knife. It sank to the hilt in the ancient piaua trunk, sap oozing out around the blade. “As the forest marks my words, we will be reunited.”
Her oath, sealed with piaua sap, was binding.
Feet tromped through the trees, crunching the underbrush.
Hans spun. “It’s Tomaaz.”
Thank the Egg, Hans had dragon sight. It gave her a few moments to prepare. But how could she tell their son? After all these years, how could she admit what she’d done?
§
Tomaaz raced into the clearing. He gasped huge mouthfuls of air, trying to get his breath back. What was Ma doing here? “Ma, I thought you were baking bread? Pa, how did you run so—” He broke off. There was a dragon in the sky above the forest. A dragon of many colors. “A dragon? Ezaara and I were just talking about—” His mother’s face was tear-streaked. “Why are you crying?”
Her knife was embedded in the old piaua on the other side of the sacred clearing.
“Your sister’s gone,” Pa said. “The dragon has taken her.”
Pa wasn’t joking. Not with him and Ma so worked up. Not with that dragon in the distance.
“Dragon! Dragon!” Cries rent the air.
“It’s time we told him,” murmured Pa.
Told him what?
“I know,” Ma said, “but people are coming.”
Voices yelled, “Dragon, over there.”
Pa turned toward the trees. “They’re on the stepping stones. Klaus is already across. We don’t have long.”
What? Pa could see through the forest to the river?
Pa gripped Tomaaz’s arm. “You’re all we have now. Do exactly as I say.”
“What’s going on?” A rock settled in Tomaaz’s stomach.
“Don’t breathe a word of Ezaara’s disappearance. They’ll be here any moment. Trust us.”
“But—” Tomaaz nodded. He had no choice.
Pa pointed to the massive piaua. “Marlies, quickly.”
Running to the tree, Ma yanked her knife out of its trunk and hid it in the leg of her breeches. Then she crushed a handful of piaua leaves, squeezing the juice into the gash on the tree’s trunk. “I will fulfill my quest, piaua tree, and regain my daughter, as witnessed by thee.” The piaua gave a shudder and the gash was gone.
Piaua juice was strong, but Tomaaz had never imagined it could do that. And Ma was a tree speaker, so why had she harmed the piaua?
Ma picked up some tiny leaves from the grass. “Owl-wort, for Ana. Ezaara must’ve dropped it.”
“What’s going on?” Tomaaz’s voice cracked.
“We’ll explain later, Tomaaz.” Pa’s green eyes were intense. “Don’t mention Ezaara.”
Tomaaz’s throat felt raw, his chest tight. A dragon had stolen his sister, and he was supposed to do nothing? He clutched his sword.
Klaus burst into the clearing, a pitchfork in his hand. “Hans, did you see the dragon? Where is it now?”
“There.” Pa pointed at a smudge flying toward the Western Grande Alps.
“It’s gone,” said Klaus, shading his eyes to see the disappearing beast. “What was the damage? What did it take? Are our children safe?”
“No damage,” Pa replied quietly.
How could he be so calm?
“Tomaaz and I were bathing when we saw the dragon fly over the valley …” Pa’s voice trailed off.
He was acting a part—acting, when Ezaara was gone. Tomaaz clenched and unclenched his fists.
“I saw it swoop,” cried one man, waving a pike.
“Perhaps it took a deer from the forest,” Pa said.
“It was pretty,” murmured a littling.
Voices babbled. No one had seen it take Ezaara.
Eventually, folk turned back toward their homes, walking together, discussing stories of dragons. Pa and Ma chatted as if they hadn’t a care. Tight-lipped, Klaus walked with them.
Tomaaz’s world had turned upside down. His twin sister was gone. Gone. And his parents were hiding something.
“Where’s your sister, Tomaaz?” Klaus asked. “I haven’t seen her since the market.”
Tomaaz’s stomach twisted. He shrugged, not trusting his voice.
“Where is she?” Klaus turned to Pa and Ma.
“At home,” Pa said. “She’s not well.”
Klaus looked wary. “She was fine at the market, this morning.”
Pa nodded. “We suspect she has pilzkrank.”
Pa was a sly old dog. It was a good ploy. Pilz looked remarkably like an edible fungus, but caused rapid, contagious infections. No one would come looking for Ezaara for days.
“Let us know if you need any help,” Klaus said, his suspicions allayed.
“I will,” Pa replied.
Why was Pa being so devious?
Klaus raised his voice to carry along the road. “An hour after dusk, we’ll have a menfolk meeting in the square. Go home and check your stock to make sure the dragon hasn’t struck. Women and children should stay inside and bar their doors in case the beast comes back. We need a plan to fortify Lush Valley against further dragon attacks.”
People nodded and murmured, continuing along the road toward the village. Pa waved as the three of them turned down the track to their farm.
“Hans, I must get the flatbread away from the fire before it burns,” Ma said.
Baking? Ma was worried about baking?
Pa nodded. “Tomaaz and I will check the animals and give them their feed.”
A figure broke away from the folk to join them. It was Ernst, Lofty’s father.
“Hans, trust you to get there first,” Ernst exclaimed. “You saw the only excitement this valley has had for years. A dragon! Above Lush Valley! What was it like?”
Pa laughed. “A fearsome beast, but it was already far away by the time we got there.”
Ernst slapped Tomaaz on the shoulder. “You’re a man now, too, Tomaaz, so we’ll be expecting you at the meet.”
Hans nodded. “We’ll be there.”
Ernst left to rejoin the folk heading to the settlement hub.
“You’ll have to come, Son,” Pa said, “otherwise they’ll be suspicious.”
Usually Tomaaz would jump at the chance to attend a menfolk meet, but tonight all he wanted was the truth.
§
During the rounds of the animals, Tomaaz clenched his jaw so hard it ached. His sister was gone. They were obviously feeding the stock to stop the neighbors from being suspicious. Afterward, Pa insisted on harvesting more vegetables, then they made their way inside.
Ma was ladling soup into wooden bowls. “Eat up and we’ll talk before you leave for the men folk meet.”
“Soup?” A bitter laugh escaped Tomaaz. He strode over and shoved his bowl. It slid across the tabletop and thunked to the floor, splattering his mother’s rucksack. “My sister’s gone and you give me soup?” He glared at Ma. “And why is your bag packed? Are you going, too?”
Ma glanced at Pa. “It’s time we told him.”
Pa picked up Tomaaz’s bowl and thumped it on the table. “Sit down, Son.”
Instead, Tomaaz paced by the fire.
“Ma and I came to Lush Valley, years ago, to keep you and Ezaara safe,” Pa said. “To give you a chance to grow up strong and learn survival skills. We chose Lush Valley, here among the foothills of the Grande Alps—”
“I don’t need a geography lesson,” Tomaaz snarled.
Pa ignored him. “Hemmed in by mountains and isolated from the rest of Dragons’ Realm, Lush Valley’s the only place where dragons are treated with suspicion. Across the rest of Dragons’ Realm, folk respect the dragons who protect us.”
“Protect us?” Tomaaz scowled. “That’s not likely. One just snatched Ezaara.” He picked up the poker and stabbed at the fire. Sparks flew up the chimney.
“Son, your mother and I are dragon folk.” Pa paused. “Actually, we’re dragon riders.”
Tomaaz whirled, the poker clanging to the floor. “What?!” Dragon folk? Riders? They had to be joking. “What’s that got to do with Ezaara?”
“Hear me out, Son.” Pa broke off a piece of bread and chewed it slowly. The wait was agonizing. “It was years ago. When I met Marlies, she worked for Dragon Corps, a secret group of riders. She was a spy, a fighter, an expert in herb lore.” He stroked Ma’s hand. Her eyes glinted. “She rode a silver dragon named Liesar, whose eyes were bright turquoise—as your mother’s now are, after years of riding her. Riders inherit other gifts from their dragons—sharpened senses and, sometimes, the ability to harness excess power. I was a dragon rider, too.”
Riders of Fire Box Set Page 33
