“And not too bad at it,” Ma interjected.
Tomaaz snorted.
Pa’s mouth grew tight. “Marlies and I fought side by side to defeat the tharuks that were trying to overthrow the dragons and enslave our folk.”
Tomaaz stopped pacing. His neck prickled. “You fought tharuks? And Commander Zens?”
“Many times.” Pa nodded. “We married. Together with our dragons, Handel and Liesar, we achieved joint mind-meld. All four of us could hear each other’s thoughts. In the history of dragon folk, it had only happened once before.” He squeezed Ma’s hand. “I became the Master Seer—and Marlies, Master Healer—on the Dragon Council.”
Tomaaz shook his head. This was all too much.
“We had every reason to be happy,” said Pa. “Except one. We couldn’t have children.”
“We tried for years,” said Ma, “but never conceived. Then there was a grievous battle. We triumphed, but Zens and his tharuks killed many—including the dragon king, the King’s Rider, and the Queen’s Rider.
“Zaarusha, the dragon queen, was carrying four eggs. In the aftermath of battle, amid our wounded, she laid them and brooded on her nest.” Ma winced, lines appearing on her face. “One night I was looking after the eggs while Zaarusha was hunting …” She broke off, then blurted, “I killed a royal dragonet, Tomaaz. I accidentally killed one.”
The fire crackled.
“I—I touched an egg when I should’ve known better.” Her shoulders shook.
Pa put his arm around her. “But that’s not all,” he said. “Somehow, touching the dragonet’s egg allowed the baby dragon to pass its life force to Marlies, healing her. Shortly after, she became pregnant and we had you and Ezaara.” Pa ran a hand through his hair, tugging at his curls. “That dragonet sacrificed itself so we could have you.”
The fire’s flickering shadows danced across the lines on Ma’s face. “But there was a price.”
Ezaara—she was the price. “Will she survive?” Tomaaz’s throat was so tight, his voice cracked. He slumped into a chair.
Ma placed her hand on his shoulder. “Yes, Ezaara should be fine. The price was my guilt.”
Tomaaz shivered. The fire had dwindled. Red embers glared at him like angry dragon eyes. He threw a log on them.
Pa leaned forward. “Zens must have struck at the heart of Dragons’ Realm for Zaarusha to imprint with Ezaara.”
Tomaaz swallowed. So Ezaara had bonded with the dragon queen and flown away. So much for her promise not to leave him. That multi-colored beast hadn’t stolen her at all. And that same beast’s offspring was the only reason he existed.
§
“You’re going somewhere, aren’t you?” Tomaaz snapped, pointing at Marlies’ rucksack. His jaw was jutting out, his body tense with accusation.
Marlies’ family was being splintered, and her son’s heart shattered, but she had to go. Zaarusha’s son’s life depended upon her. “I am.” Marlies took a deep breath. “Years ago, I was too cowardly to face Zaarusha—even though I’d killed her baby. Now, I have to prove my loyalty.”
“How?” barked Tomaaz. “By heading beyond the Grande Alps and rushing headfirst into a troop of tharuks?”
“Enough, Tomaaz!” Hans snapped.
“Enough? Ezaara’s gone, now Ma’s going, too!” Tomaaz leaped out of his chair, his hands clenched in fists.
“We hid in Lush Valley to avoid Zaarusha’s wrath. Now that she’s found us, there’s no point in staying.” Hans’ eyes blazed like emeralds. “There’s nothing left for us here.”
“But Lofty, my friends …”
“He’s right, Hans,” Marlies said. “We’ve made a home here. It’s hard to leave.” Hans had been itching to leave for years, but her heart was breaking for Tomaaz. For the lies they’d told. “Zaarusha has asked me to find her son. Tomaaz, I have to rescue him for Zaarusha. I must clear my name.” The weight of the dead dragonet had always sat on her shoulders. Now she carried the weight of more of Zaarusha’s offspring. And if she didn’t succeed, that weight would crush her. “I have to go tonight. Now.”
“You, too?” Tomaaz stared at her.
She embraced him. He was so rigid with tension, it was like hugging stone.
Blinking back tears, Marlies picked up her rucksack and headed to the door. “I’m sorry, Son,” she whispered.
“Just get Ezaara back.” Tomaaz’s voice was brittle, like shards of ice snapping underfoot.
Ezaara wouldn’t be coming back. He didn’t fully understand imprinting—the emotional and mental bond that compelled riders to be with their dragons. How could he? They’d never even talked about dragons.
Hans ushered Marlies outside, his hand warm in hers. Dusk had settled, giving her cover for her journey. They walked to the stable and saddled Star. Hans led the horse across the paddock to the copse.
“Here’s your cloak. I wish I was coming with you.” Hans embraced her. “Speed well,” he said, kissing her.
Marlies wrapped her cloak around her. “My cloak always reminds me of Giddi,” she murmured.
“Me too,” Hans said. “May it protect you.”
After kissing Hans again, she climbed upon Star, waved, and rode to the sacred clearing. Dismounting, Marlies bowed before the piaua tree, and placed her hands on its trunk, listening, sensing. The trunk thrummed beneath her fingers. The tree’s leaves stirred, filling the air with a rushing sound, like a giant river cascading through a chasm. Marlies cocked her head, straining to hear the tree’s message.
“Take my berries, witch of blue.”
Piaua berries? Those were usually a last resort—only for the desperate. She shivered. Becoming a witch of blue had never been in her plans.
“Be quick. An enemy is approaching.”
“Thank you,” Marlies said, “for the berries and the warning.”
She rose and plucked two stalks of berries, thrusting them into her healer’s pouch. Marlies swung into the saddle, departing from the clearing as the crack of breaking sticks alerted her to someone’s presence. She glanced back.
Bill was in the clearing with a crow on his shoulder. Staring after her with malice-filled eyes, he grinned.
Digging her heels into Star’s sides, Marlies urged her on through the trees. She’d suspected there was something odd about Bill, the traveling merchant. Today he’d incited Lofty to wager and start a sword fight in the village that drew attention to her children’s skills. As they’d cleared up at the market, Tomaaz had mentioned dragon cloth that Bill had shown Ezaara. And now, this. A prickle ran down her spine. Bill might be a tharuk spy.
There was a caw above her. A crow dived through the trees at her, circled, and flew off. Was it the same one that had been with Bill?
No, that was too strange. Marlies and Star galloped on.
Above the trees, high on the Western Grande Alps, something glinted. A beacon fire, in the pass—a warning that Lush Valley would soon be under attack. Torn between Zaarusha and her family, Marlies reined Star to a halt. Her chest tightened.
All those years ago, she’d fled Zaarusha’s wrath, leaving death in her wake. Now she was abandoning her family when death would soon be visiting.
Death Valley
The creature licked his aching leg, trying to edge his tongue under the biting metal shackle. The dull throb returned the moment he stopped licking. Hunger gnawing at his belly, he limped through the gray haze to the mouth of his cave. He was wearing a furrow in the ground from his endless pacing.
Muffled scrapes reached his ears. Someone was coming. His nostrils flared. Human—sniff—and rotting rat. Daggers of sunlight stabbed his eyes. With a whimper, he pulled his head back into the shadows. A vague memory of days in the sun—sun that hadn’t burned—stirred in his mind, then was swamped by gray fog again.
He growled, letting the rumble build in his throat. As usual, the human ignored him, shambling toward him with his meal—not that he’d call those putrid rat carcasses a meal.
Despite his dis
gust, he salivated.
Empty-eyed and slack-mouthed, the human dumped the meat in the glaring sunlight.
The creature tried to rear, but fell back when the shackle bit into his leg. Not noticing, the human shuffled off.
The creature lay on his stomach and edged toward the fetid stench, squeezing his eyes shut to stop the burn. Stretching his neck, he snapped up the rotten meat. Blinded and still hungry, he retreated into the darkness.
Scorned
Hans turned away from Marlies’ departing figure, his neck hair prickling and senses alert. The farm was wrapped in night’s shadows. He scanned the fields with dragon sight, but despite everything being peaceful, unease trickled down his spine. Again, he checked his land, then the copse and the river. Nothing there. Why were his nerves so jumpy?
He gazed across the grass, through the walls of his home. Tomaaz was jabbing the coals with a poker, but apart from his son venting his frustration, nothing was amiss. Just to be sure, Hans padded around the farm’s perimeter. By the roadside, the carrot tops feathered in the breeze and the scent of rich earth rose to greet his nostrils, but his sense of menace lingered. Heading toward the fowl house, he kept an eye on the copse, in case of trouble.
His sense of danger grew.
A faint scrape sounded on the fowl house roof. Hans whipped around.
Bill landed on the grass, his knife flashing.
Hans gave a mental groan. He hadn’t thought to look up at the roof. His senses sharpened. “Want to talk, Bill?”
Bill spat at Hans’ feet. “Talk to the likes of you?” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Ha! I saw your stinking daughter, gone with the queen of flying lizards.”
Had Bill been in the forest for Zaarusha’s visit? Keeping his eyes on Bill, Hans edged toward a large stick lying on the grass.
“Suppose you think she’s the new Queen’s Rider?” Bill smirked. “Not if I have my way.” His eyes gleamed unnaturally in the dark.
So, he’d recognized Zaarusha. Hans’ muscles were taut, his gaze steady on Bill’s face. “Oh?”
“Hah. Crows. I sent a crow to 458—the best tharuk tracker. Zens will have the entire army hunting your wife. The crow knows her, now.”
Hans’ blood froze, a chill creeping through him. He maintained a light tone as he edged toward the stick. “Why’s that, Bill?”
“Your wife. You. Your daughter. All dragon riders, aren’t you? Wait ’til Klaus and the settlement council hear about this. They hate riders and those hideous beasts. ‘Protectors of the realm’ indeed.” Bill added spittle to his sarcasm.
“As much as they despise tharuk spies?”
Bill snarled and leaped forward, slashing with his knife.
Hans lunged sideways and rolled. He leaped to his feet, grasping the stick.
Grunting in surprise, Bill glowered as they gauged each other, both looking for an opening.
“I know your dirty secret,” Bill snapped. “Dragon lover!”
“Get off my land, Bill.” Hans made his voice steely. He hefted his stick.
Bill gritted his teeth, eyes like fire on a blade. He darted for Hans’ chest.
Hans swung his stick, connecting with Bill’s knife. The blade arced through the air, landing on the grass. “I said, get off my land,” Hans growled.
Bill snatched up his knife, spat at Hans, and ran off toward the settlement hub.
Hans frowned. Bill’s eyes had shone with an oddly-familiar light.
He shrugged. It was probably nothing. Klaus’ grandfather, Frugar, had been a dragon rider but he’d died in a fierce battle. His son Joris, Klaus’ father, had been bitter about Frugar’s death, turning everyone against the very creatures that protected the realm. As a result, Klaus and the entire settlement had grown up hating dragons. Where would Klaus’ loyalty lie when he discovered his family had once been dragon riders?
Hans trudged inside, ready for his next battle. “Come on, Son. I know you don’t feel like it, but we have to get to Klaus’ meeting.”
His back to Hans, Tomaaz stabbed the fire with the poker, then whirled, holding the metal rod like a sword. “I have no choice,” he spat, throwing the poker.
It clanged against the hearthstone, making Hans flinch. “Tomaaz—”
A sigh hissed from his son’s lips. “Don’t panic, Pa. I won’t tell your nasty little secrets.”
“Thanks, Son.” Not perfect, but it would have to do. “Let’s go.”
Tomaaz stalked toward the door, but someone knocked before he got there. He flung it open and admitted Ernst, his wife Ana, and son, Lofty.
“Evening,” Hans said, wishing he and Tomaaz had more time to talk alone.
Ana closed the door behind them. “Hans, we’d like to support your family.” Voice quiet, she raised a hand to cut off Hans’ protest. “We suspect your lives aren’t what they appear, but we’ll stand by you. We agreed you should have this.” She gave Hans a brown velvet pouch. “It contains a few useful things, including my mother’s magic ring, imbued with dragon power.”
A magic ring of dragon power? Pocketing the pouch, Hans fought to keep the surprise from his face.
Tomaaz moved closer, shooting him a keen glance.
“If you’re in a tight corner, with nowhere to go, rub the ring and say my name.” Ana leaned in. “It’s short for my mother’s name, Anakisha, the last Queen’s Rider.”
“Thank you.” A chill snaked down his spine. When Anakisha had become Queen’s Rider, her children had already been scattered, far from Dragons’ Hold, to keep their identities hidden. Now, Anakisha’s daughter stood right here in front of him. Had been for years.
Ana studied him. “I see you knew her, or knew of her.”
Hans felt naked—had their careful cover not fooled anyone?
“We’ve long suspected you and Marlies were riders,” Ernst said, his shaggy eyebrows drawn into a frown. “We’d better get going. Klaus hates stragglers.”
Tomaaz and Lofty were elbowing each other, heading for the door.
“Tomaaz, wait,” Hans called. “Thank you, Ana. Ernst, we’ll catch up with you.” He shut the door behind them.
Kneeling before the fire, Hans whipped a knife from his belt and prized it beneath the loose stone at the front of the hearth. If anything happened to him, Tomaaz needed resources and a plan. Hans lifted the entire stone away. Reaching his fingers into the cavity, he angled them back toward the room. With a click, the floorboard in front of the fireplace sprung open.
Tomaaz knelt next to the loose floorboard as Hans pulled dark fabric from under the floor. “My dragon riders’ garb. Marlies has hers with her.” He showed Tomaaz a coin purse, then tucked the jerkins and breeches away again, and retrieved Ana’s velvet pouch from his pocket. Placing the purse and pouch on top of his dragon riders’ garb, he replaced the floorboard and wedged the stone back into the hearth. He kept his voice low. “If anything happens to me, take Ana’s pouch and those silvers and head for Dragons’ Hold.”
“Where’s Dragons’ Hold?”
“North, past Montanara, hidden within a ring of treacherous mountains—impassable except by flying. Any dragon rider will take you there if you tell them you’re my son.” Hans sighed. “I hope it never comes to that.”
Tomaaz stared at Hans, speechless, the crackling fire and their breathing the only sounds. Finally, he rolled his eyes. “Ask any dragon rider? As if I’d see one daily!” He stalked to the door.
Hans followed. He resisted the temptation to look back at the forest for a glimpse of Marlies. She’d already be gone. They walked along the road stretching south to the village. Ahead, Bill and his horse were a blot against the pale gravel. Around them, the Alps were tipped silver in the dark.
“You all right, Son?”
“Absolutely fine. Why wouldn’t I be, with half our family gone?” Tomaaz’s boot knocked a rock, sending it skittering along the road.
“Sorry, stupid question.” Hans placed a hand on Tomaaz’s shoulder, but his son shrugg
ed it off, stomping angrily toward the settlement. “Tomaaz,” Hans called, “I have to warn you.”
His son turned back.
“Bill is out to discredit us. Be careful what you say tonight.”
Tomaaz’s only answer was the crunch of gravel under his boots as he jogged off to catch up with Lofty. Hans jogged behind him and soon they were walking with Ernst’s family.
Raking a hand through his hair, Hans gazed out at the Western Grande Alps, Marlies’ first destination, two days’ hard ride away. Something on top of the Alps winked at him. He was about to turn away, but—
“Oh, shards! Ernst, Ana! A beacon fire.” Hans broke into a sprint toward the village square.
“Pa!” Tomaaz called, racing to keep up, Ernst, Ana and Lofty running too.
Using his dragon sight, Hans evaluated the fire, a gleaming yellow spot between the silver snow-tipped alps. If was he judging it right, the fire was on the Western Pass. “Tharuks have attacked the Western Pass!” Hans yelled, spurting ahead.
He and Marlies had sheltered in this sleepy valley for too long, ignorant to the advances Zens was making. Hiding from their past, instead of owning it. Well, he’d make up for it tonight. He’d do what he could to save Lush Valley from the approaching monsters. If only he had dragon power, now, to speed his feet. At least his dragon sight was permanent, the result of him being Dragons’ Realm’s former Master Seer.
Fields and barns gave way to scattered houses. Soon they were dashing along streets lined with sleepy shuttered buildings, past corners where oil lamps glowed on posts. Voices drifted from the square. Hans rounded a corner—and stopped. The street was jammed with people. There was no way through.
Riders of Fire Box Set Page 34
