Tomaaz dropped her arm, stumbling backward.
Someone shoved him. He fell. A boot thudded into his ribs. He scrambled to his feet and dodged through the crush of bodies. Over the backs of several brawny men, Pa was now gagged and tied to the stake, on top of a pile of tinder-dry brush. Men were throwing tallow onto the brush. One torch and Pa would be in flames—burning alive.
Tomaaz’s skin crawled as he inched closer. He’d fight his way through, stick every man like a pig. He’d rather die than let Pa burn. He drew his knife from his belt.
As if he could read Tomaaz’s mind, Pa’s eyes widened, and he shook his head.
Pa didn’t want him to fight? The idiot! Tomaaz slipped his knife back into its sheath, hand at the ready.
“So, who would like to see this dragon scum die?” Bill roared, leaping upon the brush and squeezing his fingers around Pa’s throat.
Tomaaz’s hand flew to his knife handle. One well-aimed throw and Bill would be dead.
“Don’t you even think about it,” a voice whispered, making his neck hairs rise. A blade pricked his ribs. Pieter.
“Wait,” Ernst called, barging through the ring of men around the unlit pyre.
Where had he come from? He hadn’t been here when the others had knocked on the door.
“We haven’t heard any solid proof against Hans yet,” Ernst stated.
“His daughter’s gone,” roared Bill, eyes glinting yellow. “No one’s seen her since the beast appeared.” The flickering torches cast demonic shadows across Bill’s face.
“And his wife has left too,” someone yelled from the crowd.
“He’s a dragon lover,” called a woman.
“Sacrificed his daughter to appease the beast!” screeched another
“That’s just rumor,” Ernst bellowed. “What will Klaus do, if he finds you’ve burned one of his best farmers because of gossip?”
“What will Klaus do if he finds out we’ve been harboring a dragon lover?” Bill bellowed back. “Burn him now and get it over with!”
More yelling broke out.
“Pieter,” Bill called. “Come up here and show everyone the proof you have against Hans.”
Proof? What had Pa left lying around?
“I’m a little busy,” Pieter yelled back, the increased pressure of his blade making Tomaaz flinch. “But my daughter will bring it.”
Men stepped aside to let Beatrice through. She stood in front of the stake, facing the villagers. From her pocket, she drew a scrap of cloth. “This cloth was in Hans’ barn! It’s covered with dragons—bronze ones, silver and red. This proves he covets dragons. Loves them!”
How had Tomaaz ever thought she was beautiful? Her face was full of hate.
“Show me that cloth!” Tomaaz shouted. “Let me see it.”
“I, too, would like to examine it,” Klaus said, and the villagers parted like wheat stalks before an ox.
Where had Klaus come from? Then Tomaaz spotted Lofty, panting, near where Klaus had been. No doubt Ernst, on the neighboring farm, had seen the villagers’ torches and sent Lofty for Klaus.
Reaching the pyre, Klaus snatched the cloth from Beatrice. His face was thunderous. “Tomaaz! Come here!”
Pieter shoved Tomaaz.
He ran to Klaus, pushing through wide-shouldered men.
“Is this one of your pranks?” Klaus hissed. “Do you consider this funny?”
“No, sir.” Tomaaz put his hand out for the cloth. Klaus thrust it at him. Tomaaz couldn’t help his sharp intake of breath as he saw the pattern. “Bill was showing this cloth to Ezaara at the marketplace today. It’s Bill’s, not Pa’s.”
Klaus raised an eyebrow and plucked the scrap of fabric back. “Bill says it’s your pa’s and you say it’s Bill’s. Very convenient that you’re blaming each other. And no one has yet cleared up the mystery of where Ezaara has been since your fight at the marketplace.”
Holding the cloth high, Klaus turned to the crowd. “Whom shall I believe?”
The villagers yelled, waving torches.
Frantically, Tomaaz scanned their faces. “I know!” Tomaaz tugged Klaus sleeve. “Sir, I know how you can determine this!”
“How?”
Tomaaz gestured to a woman at the back of the crowd. “She saw Ezaara shoving the cloth back at Bill. She may recognize it.”
Klaus motioned the woman forward.
“Tomaaz says you’ve seen this cloth before,” Klaus stated.
She frowned, shaking her head.
“Earlier today, in the marketplace,” Tomaaz interjected. “You bought a length of cloth from Bill, green with a wheat pattern.”
“So I did.” She nodded. “What of it?”
“Before you purchased your fabric, Ezaara was at the stand. Did you see her pass something back to Bill?”
“Oh, that!” Comprehension flashed over her face. “Yes, I did. She had her head down, fascinated with something she was holding. When she noticed I was near, she thrust a piece of material into Bill’s hands, telling him, ‘No, thank you.’ I did wonder what had captivated her.”
“So, do you recognize this fabric?” Klaus asked.
“It was black with gold and red, that’s what I saw.” The woman held out her hand. “Let me have another look.”
Klaus passed her the cloth.
“Yes, it’s definitely possible that this is the same piece I saw today.”
“Possible,” yelled Bill. “She’s not sure. That’s not proof! Not like we have against Hans.”
Klaus narrowed his eyes. “What proof do you have?”
“Lovina,” Bill called, charging through the crowd and dragging Lovina forward. Tomaaz winced. Bill’s grip had to hurt. Sure enough, when Bill removed his fingers, the imprint stayed on her upper arm—her thin pitiful arm, covered in goosebumps. She was wearing her ragged shift—no protection against the chill of the night. “Lovina saw Hans’ daughter leaving on that dragon,” Bill said. “Tell them, Lovina.”
She hadn’t, had she? Tomaaz’s pulse hammered at his throat. He met his father’s eyes, bright over the gag.
Eyes downcast, Lovina murmured something incomprehensible.
“Go on, girl,” Bill demanded. “Speak!”
Lovina opened her mouth, then shrugged and stayed silent.
“Girl, answer,” Bill growled.
There was a threatening edge to Bill’s voice that Tomaaz didn’t like. Before he could think, Tomaaz blurted, “Tell the truth, Lovina.”
From behind Lovina’s matted hair, a glimmer of hope shone, then her face was blank again and she slumped.
Had he imagined that glimpse?
“Talk!” Bill grabbed the back of Lovina’s dress. She pulled away and stumbled, the worn fabric ripping, leaving Bill clutching shreds.
Hands outstretched, Lovina fell. Tomaaz jumped forward, catching her. He gaped at her exposed back. A crisscrossed mess of wounds marred her skin where she’d been whipped. Fresh, red lacerations in raw flesh. Lash marks festering with crusty, flaking scabs. Pale-pink scars were layered over faded white ones.
Tomaaz stared in horror.
Shoving Bill aside, Klaus pulled Lovina away from Tomaaz, draping a protective arm around her. “We must find a healer,” he croaked. “Lovina, who did this? Did Bill whip you?”
Lovina nodded, eyes flat.
“Did anyone else whip you?” Klaus asked.
She shook her head, greasy hair flopping around her face.
“Bill is sentenced to ninety days’ imprisonment for whipping his daughter,” Klaus’s voice boomed. “Seize him!”
Bill lunged, snatching a torch. He threw it onto the pyre. “Dragon lover!” he screeched, racing off into the dark fields. Men sped after him.
For an instant, Tomaaz stood, rooted, as the pyre flared to life around his father’s feet.
Flames licked Pa’s boots. Pa tugged and jerked, but he was bound fast.
Tomaaz ran, stomping through the fire. He whipped out his knife and slashed at the rop
es, but they wouldn’t give. Angling his knife against the rope, he sawed. Sparks flew onto his breeches. Heat scorched through his boots. His legs were getting hot. Smoke smarted his eyes. He kept sawing. Just a few more fibers.
“Keep cutting,” yelled Ernst, there beside him with Lofty, stamping at the base of the pyre.
“Help Tomaaz!” bellowed Klaus, throwing his jerkin on the fire to douse it. But the jerkin flared to life, flames devouring it.
Villagers jumped on the pyre, stomping on the flames.
Pa yanked and the ropes around his hands gave. He tugged his gag free, screaming as fire licked up his legs. Tomaaz stomped too, trying to see where Pa’s legs were tied. Smoke stung, blurring his vision. In desperation, he slashed through the flames at the base of the stake.
Pa pulled hard. The ropes around his ankles gave way. He leaped off the pyre, stumbling onto the grass. Ernst chased after him, rolling him to douse the fire.
Then Lofty was there, pulling Tomaaz to the ground, rolling him, smothering the flames on his breeches. Until he felt the grass on his skin, he hadn’t even noticed that the fabric had burned through. His legs were in agony.
But if his were sore, Pa’s must be horrendous.
§
Hans groaned. Shards, his legs hurt. And his hands were throbbing, too. He lay on his side, his cheek in the damp grass, grateful for the cool relief. He’d been in worse scrapes and survived, although it had been a while.
Thank the Egg, Tomaaz had acted so quickly. He could still feel the vibrations of Tomaaz’s sawing shuddering down the stake against his back. The wicked heat on his legs.
Hans gritted his teeth to stop himself from yelling as Ernst undid his boots and eased them off, but a groan still escaped him. The night air wafted over his searing feet.
“These won’t be much use anymore.” Ernst clucked his tongue, dropping the boots. “Thank the Gods, you had these on. Anything else and you wouldn’t be walking for a moon.”
The pain. Hans let out a long breath. Gods. And another.
Klaus’ voice broke through. “Pick him up and take him to the house. Anyone with healing skills—or proof—may accompany us. We have yet to get to the bottom of this.”
Hans groaned again. This wasn’t over yet.
§
Tomaaz made his way back to the house with Lofty and Klaus supporting him on either side. Lovina followed them. They trailed Pa, who was being carried by the smithy and Pieter—the very men who’d wanted to burn him at the stake. Hopefully, they’d seen Bill’s true colors and changed their minds.
Ana appeared, carrying healing supplies. “Are you all right, Tomaaz?” She took Lovina by the hand, bringing her along.
Through gritted teeth, Tomaaz attempted a smile.
“I’ll need your ma’s healing supplies, if you know where they are,” Ana said.
He managed a nod as Klaus and Lofty helped him up the steps into the house.
Pa was on his bed, Pieter and the smithy pacing nearby like wolves.
“Over here.” Klaus motioned toward Ma’s side of the bed. “It’ll be easier if you’re both together.”
What would be easier? Healing them? Or guarding them?
Ana seated the shivering Lovina in a chair in the corner and bundled a blanket around her. Klaus shooed Pieter and the smithy into the living area and took up vigil next to Lovina, leaning his bulk against the wall.
Tomaaz’s shins and calves were red and blistered, but his feet had been protected by his boots. He grimaced at the raw flesh on Pa’s legs and feet, covered with yellow blisters as big as eggs. Gods, how could his father walk, let alone fight tharuks?
Ana, Lofty and Ernst bathed Pa and Tomaaz’s burns with wet cloths, cooling them. Then Ana smeared healing salve over the raw parts of Tomaaz’s legs. Her touch bit into him like a nest of viscous ants. He clamped his teeth down on a stick, knowing Pa’s pain was worse.
Ana moved to treat Pa. Pa lay there, groaning and grunting, drifting in and out of consciousness.
“Hans,” Ana asked, “does Marlies have any piaua juice?”
No answer.
“Not sure,” Tomaaz replied. “Her supplies are in the wooden chest in the kitchen.” Was his pain ever going to end?
Ana left and bustled back in, beaming. “I found some piaua.” She held up two vials of clear green liquid.
Only two vials. “Is that enough?” Tomaaz croaked.
Lofty gave him a sip of water.
Ana frowned. “We’ll see.” She approached him.
“No. Heal Pa. He needs it more.”
She nodded and retreated to the other side of the bed.
Ana dribbled the piaua juice onto Pa’s leg, then tried to smooth it into his flesh, but Pa screamed, twisting on the bed. His foot connected with Ana’s stomach.
She cried out, but managed to hold the vial upright.
“Pieter, Smithy!” Klaus barked, coming over to pin Pa’s shoulders. “In here. Restrain him.”
The smithy held Pa’s hips down. Ana wrapped bandages around Pa’s ankles while Pieter had the awful job of holding them in place.
Brow beaded with sweat, his father moaned as Ana smoothed the juice into his burnt skin. Pa’s wounded flesh shrank before Tomaaz’s eyes, disappearing. The bulbous blisters shriveled and sagged, then vanished. Pa’s moaning stopped. Where his burns had been was pale-pink skin.
Klaus exhaled. “No matter how many times I see it, piaua never ceases to amaze me.”
Letting go of Hans, Pieter and the smithy murmured in assent.
Pa opened his eyes. “Shards, that stuff burns! Almost as bad as fire!” His chuckle died in his throat as he glanced over at Tomaaz. “My son, Ana. You must heal Tomaaz.”
Ana held up a vial. “I only have quarter of a vial left. What will it be? Your hands? Or your son’s legs?”
Pa held up his blistered hands, examining them as if they didn’t belong to him. “I’ve had worse. I’ll be fine. Heal him.”
“Hans, I—”
“No,” Pa bit out, “I want my son fit to fight tharuks when they arrive tomorrow.” He glared at Klaus, his jaw jutting out.
Klaus shook his head, his mouth hardening in a grim line.
“Pa,” Tomaaz said, his gaze landing on Lovina. “Lovina’s back is worse.”
Klaus nodded.
“Please, Ana, heal her,” Tomaaz said.
§
Lovina stirred. The boy with the emerald eyes and golden hair had mentioned her. Impossible. No one ever noticed her.
Certainly not anyone that beautiful. She’d seen Tomaaz fighting in the marketplace today. Laughing. Confident. Hugging his sister.
He said it again. “Please, heal Lovina.”
Lovina strained to see through the gray fog. He was staring right at her. She dropped her gaze. The only time anyone ever looked at her was usually right before they hurt her.
Uneven thumps reverberated through the floor.
It was him, hobbling over on wounded legs. Wincing, he lifted her chin with gentle fingers.
“Lovina.” His breath brushed her cheek. “We’d like to heal your back.”
She stared at him.
The fire crackled next door, the way the pyre had crackled before he’d saved his pa.
“Lovina, please, let us heal you.”
She swallowed and bobbed her head.
“Good.”
Lovina was bathed in the light from his smile.
§
Ana led Lovina out of the room, and Tomaaz sank back on the bed beside Pa. Those few paces across the room had taken more out of him than he realized. If only there’d been enough juice to heal them all. But there wasn’t, and Lovina’s infected back needed more help than his legs. He was strong, healthy. He’d heal in a few days. She was frail, as thin as a wisp. Her dull gray eyes ate away at him.
“Lofty, please find something warm for Lovina to wear,” he asked. “There must be something among Ezaara’s things.”
“Good idea, Toma
az.” Klaus’ voice startled Tomaaz. He’d forgotten Lush Valley Settlement’s arbitrator was there.
Pa sat up in bed, flexing his legs. “Klaus, we have to prepare against tharuks.”
“I’ve had enough of you inciting people, Hans.”
“They’re coming, whether you believe it or not,” Pa insisted. “Either we meet them prepared or pretend nothing’s happening. It’s your decision.”
“I said, I’ll not have you inciting rebellion.”
“Klaus, see reason.”
Klaus’ face was a storm cloud. “I am seeing reason. I believe what I see. And I haven’t seen a beacon fire or any sign of mythical beasts.”
“Mythical!” Pa exploded. “I’ve fought those monsters, years ago, before I came to Lush Valley. Tharuks are no more mythical than a field of wheat. Look!” Pa pulled up his smoke-stained shirt to reveal a faded white scar across his belly. “Tharuk tusk! Now what do you think of that?”
Klaus shrugged. “Looks like an old knife wound to me.”
“Klaus, you idiot!” Pa yelled.
He’d pushed it too far. Klaus face’ went red and he hissed, “Smithy, Pieter, in here.”
A moment later, their bulk filled the doorway.
“Hans requires a few nights in the cells to teach him civility and reason. Now that his wounds have been treated, you may escort him to jail.”
Pieter and the smithy yanked Pa to his feet.
Ernst rushed in, placing a hand on Klaus’ arm. “Klaus, please. Hans is an upstanding member of our settlement. He’s had a few shocks today. First the dragon, then his daughter being ill, and now, almost being burned at the stake. I think he just needs rest.”
Staring at Ernst as if he was vermin, Klaus said, “He’ll get plenty of rest in jail. That will give us time to uncover more proof that he is, indeed, a dragon lover.”
The crash of the front door made Tomaaz start. A man shoved his head through the doorway. “Klaus, sir, we’ve captured Bill and put him in jail. Says he wants to see his daughter.”
“I’ll not have that man go near Lovina again,” Klaus said. “Help these two take Hans to jail. Not in Bill’s cell, though. I’ll not have murder on my conscience.”
“Uh, sir, excuse me, but I’m suspicious of Tomaaz,” Pieter said.
Klaus nearly snapped Pieter’s head off. “What now?”
Riders of Fire Box Set Page 36
