Wait, blood on the bed frame. Long strands of brown hair on the floor. Tomaaz picked up some hair, and then more. “Where’s Lovina?” His words were strangled. “Where is she?”
“Over there,” said Deano, the eldest of the littlings. “I watched out the window.”
Tomaaz rushed him to the open window. “Where did the man take Lovina, Deano?”
“By those trees,” the boy said, pointing toward the swimming hole. “He tied her up.”
No, while he’d searched for Pa, Bill had been snatching Lovina.
“Into the living room. Wait for your ma there.”
He leaped through the window and sped across the field.
“Hey, Maaz!” Lofty yelled. “Where are you going?”
“Bill’s got Lovina,” Tomaaz panted, running toward the trees.
§
Blood slicked the pommel of Hans’ sword, making it hard to grip, but he hacked into the beast. It dropped. Another surged forward to take its place. Feint, thrust, drive and sidestep. Lunge, deflect and aim … his sword hit home, piercing the soft skin under the tharuk’s chin. The beast tottered and fell on its side.
With a screech, the cooper next to him fell, leaving his young son unprotected.
Hans swung to deflect the claws of a beast. He pushed past a furry back to pierce the armpit of a small tharuk with its claws raised over Paolo’s head. The tharuk faced Hans, eyes blazing, angling its tusks at his face. Hans ducked, driving his sword into the beast’s gut. With two hands and all his bodyweight, he pushed, feeling the pop as he pierced the tharuk’s tough hide, but before he could drive the sword deeper, the brute grabbed him.
Hans dropped his sword, his arms pinned to his sides, helpless.
Then Klaus was there, ramming his knife into the tharuk’s throat.
In a gush of stinking dark blood, the beast went limp. Hans kicked it backward, knocking another tharuk down. He yanked his sword from the tharuk’s belly and nodded at Klaus. “Thanks.”
“Back to the square, Paolo,” he yelled to the boy. Then he and Klaus turned to keep fighting.
§
The sky was waning to pre-dawn gray when Tomaaz heard Lovina scream. Sword drawn, he ran through the trees.
“No, I won’t come with you!” she yelled.
“Which bone shall I break next?” Bill laughed.
Tomaaz ran. There, through those trees.
Bill kicked Lovina in the stomach. She dropped to her knees, clutching her belly. Bill backhanded her. Her head snapped back, smashing against a tree trunk.
White-hot rage surged through Tomaaz. He pounded across the forest floor.
Lovina rolled out of the way as Bill aimed another kick.
Then, seeing Tomaaz racing toward him, Bill gave a guttural yell and leaped into the air toward Lovina.
“No!” Tomaaz’s shriek cut the air. He was too slow.
Too slow to stop the full weight of Bill landing on Lovina’s arm, boots first.
There was a crack. Bone jabbed through skin. Her face turned the white of solstice bread, and her eyes rolled back in her head.
Then, Bill was gone, dashing away through the bushes.
“Lovina.” Tomaaz reached her, dropping his sword and falling to his knees.
Her eyes flitted to him, beyond and back, breathing shallow. She murmured.
“What is it?”
“Behind you,” she gasped.
Tomaaz turned.
“May I introduce you to my friends?” said Bill.
Four tharuks stood at his back, tusks gleaming in the sunrise.
§
Hans dragged his sword from a tharuk’s throat and lifted it to swing again. His legs were faltering, dog-tired. Usually at sunrise, even in battle, he felt a new surge of hope, but this was different.
Beside him, Klaus held the brutes at bay with a spear, jabbing them when they got too close. They were part of a ragged line, trying to hold back the flood of tharuks. Jammed between two rows of buildings edging the street, with archers positioned above, he’d thought they had a fair chance of repelling the beasts and securing the street, but he’d been wrong.
An arrow whistled past him, hitting a tharuk in the eye. It collapsed, knocking a fighter down. The boy lay there, trapped beneath the beast, too tired to move. Klaus swung his spear in an arc, allowing Hans time to get to the boy. He rolled the tharuk’s body over and the boy dragged himself to his feet.
“Paolo, it’s you! I told you to go back to the square.”
“They killed my da. I want to fight.” The boy brandished his sword, jutting out his chin.
“Then stick with me,” Hans said, swinging his sword at another beast.
Paolo stuck a tharuk in the arm, but it wasn’t enough. The beast swiped with his free claws, sending the lad flying, then picked up Paolo’s sword and tossed it aside. It towered over the chalk-faced boy. Hans leaped over a body and rammed his sword through the beast’s side. The tharuk collapsed on top of Paolo and, this time, Hans left the lad there. He was probably safer hidden under a tharuk than fighting.
Another man went down. This had gone on too long.
“Hans,” Klaus bellowed. He was at the closest end of a line of spear wielders, struggling to keep the monsters at bay.
Near the far building, tharuks pressed forward. The foremost beasts were impaled on spears, but others pushed on, trampling their bodies and the fighters. Hans ran, sword out, watching in horror as his men screamed, then fell silent as they were crushed by stampeding beasts.
Volleys of arrows flew. Some tharuks fell, but more rushed over them, pouring through the gap.
“Retreat, retreat, they’ve breached the square!” He ran to retrieve Paolo, but was pushed back, in a crush of bodies, toward the square. “To me, to me!” he bellowed.
Klaus surged through the pandemonium, tossing aside a tharuk, but was swept up, alongside Hans.
When they arrived at the square, they tried, again, to form a front line.
“To us,” Klaus yelled. “Regroup! Over here.”
A ragtag bunch of fighters regrouped, but within moments they were shoved aside, each fighting isolated battles amid a sea of tharuks.
They had no chance. Absolutely no chance.
But at least Hans could take a few tharuks with him before he died. Ezaara, Marlies and Tomaaz flashed to mind. He hoped they were safe, but somehow, he wasn’t sure anymore.
He hacked into the mass of fur in front of him.
Then, as if by magic, his arm was stronger. He swung his sword with more confidence. His legs moved faster, his mind was less sluggish. It was as if … “Handel?”
“On my way.”
The warmth of his dragon’s thoughts flooded Hans, giving him courage. If they could mind-meld, Handel must be close. He rammed his sword into a tharuk and hewed down another. “For Dragons’ Realm!” he bellowed. “Stand strong and fight these beasts.” The increased surge of energy came from Handel. Fire blazed in Hans’ veins, and he slew tharuks with renewed vigor.
“I hope you have company,” he mind-melded with Handel.
“Two full troops of blue guards.”
At last, they had a fighting chance.
Wheeling blue dragons created shadows over the square with their enormous wingspans as riders shot arrows into screeching tharuks. Swathes of flame cut down tharuks that were chasing women and children.
Hans battled a huge tharuk, ducking claws and lunging away from the brute’s tusks, his hair ruffling in the downdraft of the dragons’ wingbeats. Funny that—the movement of his hair, right in the middle of battle. It felt so familiar, so right. Why in the Egg’s name had he and Marlies hidden for so long in this backwater? This is what made him feel alive: dragon power singing in his veins; the knowledge he was needed to save lives. Never again would he hide for fear of repercussion. He’d gladly face Zaarusha, take her condemnation, and prove to her that he could still be true to the realm.
“To us!” Hans bellowed.
; Lush Valley fighters took courage, joining Hans and Klaus, forming lines that blocked the streets. In the square, dragons flamed tharuks until they were piles of smoking flesh and char. That old familiar stench of burning fur hung in the air.
This was what he and Marlies were born for, not farming and living in terror of ever seeing a dragon again.
But not all Lush Valley citizens took cheer at seeing the dragons. Some ran squealing, looking for cover. Others were gibbering about the evil stinking dragons that were going to eat them.
Klaus shot Hans a grim look. “I was wrong, Hans.”
Hans nodded, piercing the chin of a tharuk, leaping back as it fell. “Your father raised you that way, Klaus.”
Klaus jabbed a tharuk with his spear, driving it back. Curiosity crept over his face. “So, my grandpa really was a dragon rider?”
A burst of flame hit a nearby tharuk. “Busy chatting, are you?”
Hans looked up, his breath catching. The last rays of sunrise hit his dragon’s bronze scales, making them gleam like treasure. His throat ached at Handel’s beauty.
“You’re right, I am treasure. Nice to see you again, Hans.”
“And you, too.” A gust of Handel’s affection blew through him, warming him. “I thought you’d be angry at me for leaving.”
“For a few years, I was. But lately, I’d been hoping I’d find you again. Your daughter has created quite a stir.” One of Handel’s memories shot through Hans’ mind: Ezaara flying a loop on Zaarusha, the crowd below transfixed, with those fierce mountain peaks of Dragon’s Teeth standing guard in the background.
“Gods, I’ve missed Ezaara. And Dragons’ Hold.”
“Not for long. The blue guards will sort this mess out. You and I have places to be.” Handel swooped.
“Klaus, the dragons want me to go,” Hans said.
“My grandfather was a dragon rider,” Klaus said, “so I’m sure I’ll handle this. Just go.”
Hans jammed his sword in his scabbard. Handel grasped his shoulders with strong talons, lifting him above the battle. Hans hung on, letting out a loud whoop. “It’s great to be back in the saddle.”
“You’re not in the saddle yet. Give me a chance.” Handel’s chuckle fluttered through his mind.
Below, people and tharuks looked up, staring. “Keep fighting!” Hans bellowed. “Handel, I should stay, help them. I can’t abandon them now.”
“What could you achieve that two troops of blue guards can’t deal with?” Handel ascended above the buildings. Thanks to the dragons and their riders—the battle had turned. Tharuks fled from the settlement, out across fields. Dragons were chasing them down, the blue guards’ arrows finding their marks. In the fields near his home, Hans saw a flash of silver, then a spurt of flame. “Liesar?”
The tinkle of her laugh echoed in his mind. “Yes, I’m here too, Hans. We must collect supplies and leave Lush Valley.”
Settlements often sent supplies to Dragons’ Hold to support the riders who protected them. It made sense to take his produce. “We can’t leave without my son.” He showed them an image of Tomaaz.
“You’re right, we mustn’t leave him behind.” Handel used that voice.
“What is it? What have you seen?” They shared the gift of prophecy, although Hans’ was a little rusty.
“I’m not sure yet, but he’s tied to the fate of the realm, just as your daughter is. Zaarusha’s dragonet gave much more than either you or Marlies suspected.” Handel dived, burning a tharuk.
Hans’ face heated with shame. “I’ll stand and face the council. Marlies and I deserve that for running.”
“Yes, you will.” Handel gave Hans time to digest that, before he continued, “However, due to her folly, both of your children inherited gifts from Zaarusha’s dragonet.”
“What gifts?” Hans’ shoulders were beginning to ache where Handel gripped them.
“Time will tell.”
For years, Hans had wondered how their farm looked from above, on dragonback. Now he knew. Handel spiraled down, depositing him on the grass. Liesar landed nearby.
Shards and dragon’s teeth! The whole front door had been splintered. Dead tharuks were scattered across the fields. People were lifting wounded inside, exhaustion dogging their movements. At the sight of dragons, they stopped, fear and curiosity battling on their faces.
With blue guards scorching the enemy nearby, they probably realized dragons were on their side, but he had to reassure them anyway. “It’s all right,” Hans called. “The dragons are helping us.”
A ragged cheer went up.
Where was his son? He dashed inside. “Tomaaz?”
His home was full of wounded, but his son was not among them.
§
Tomaaz slowly rose to his feet, taking a surreptitious step closer to his sword. So foolish to have dropped it.
“Give me back my slave, boy.”
Bill’s smile gave Tomaaz the creeps. It always had—there’d been good reason to avoid Old Bill, but with four tharuks at his back, there was no avoiding him now. For a moment, Tomaaz wanted to play for time, but what was the use? He was outnumbered and cornered—with a girl who was too injured to run.
He lunged for his sword, snatching it, and ran straight for Bill and the tharuks.
In an instant, Bill was behind the tharuks, shouting commands at the beasts.
A tharuk charged Tomaaz. He leaped aside, his tattered jerkin catching on the beast’s tusk and tearing free. Claws swiped at him. Tomaaz thrust the tip of his sword at a brute’s eye. And then he was surrounded. It was over before it really began, and Lovina was unprotected.
Bill lurched over to her, grinning.
Tomaaz swept his sword in an arc, trying to break through, then spun, protecting his back. The beasts laughed, throwing the odd swipe, taunting, taking turns playing with him. When they attacked, he’d be a goner, shredded by their claws and tusks.
Lovina’s shrill scream made him whirl.
Bill was breaking Lovina’s fingers. “I’ll teach you, girl!” he snarled.
Roaring, Tomaaz pelted toward a tharuk, ramming his shoulder into its gut. The surprised beast fell backward. Strong furry arms grabbed Tomaaz from behind, pinning his arms at his sides in a bear hug. The tharuk lifted him from the ground, crushing the breath out of him. Tomaaz struggled and kicked. He tried to call to Lovina, but could only gasp.
Bill dragged Lovina along the ground by her injured arm. Her broken bone jutting through her flesh at an impossible angle, she fainted.
Oh gods, he’d thought he could protect her. Now they’d both die, a furlong or two from home.
The tharuks gathered around him, snarling. It was getting harder to breathe.
“I want a turn, too,” one said. “When do we get to play?” An arrow hit the beast in the head and it fell.
With a whoop, Lofty crashed through the bushes. He let a second arrow loose. Another beast fell. Only two to go—and Bill.
Bill whipped out a knife, holding it to Lovina’s throat. “Hurt another tharuk and the girl gets this.”
Lofty raised an eyebrow.
Tomaaz shook his head. He couldn’t risk Lovina.
The big tharuk holding Tomaaz spoke, its voice rumbling through Tomaaz’s back like an avalanche, “Crush him, now.”
The remaining beast swiped at Lofty, who whipped his sword out of his scabbard as Tomaaz watched—helpless, ribs and chest aching, lungs tight.
A downdraft stirred the foliage. Overhead, wings flapped. An arrow thwacked into Bill, and he dropped his knife, clutching his shoulder. A blast of flame shot from the sky, burning the tharuk fighting Lofty.
Above them, two dragons wheeled in the air—bronze and silver.
A bow twanged. The tharuk holding Tomaaz flinched and staggered forward a step. Tomaaz heard the zip of a second arrow, and the tharuk fell on him, pinning his legs to the ground. He shoved the dead beast off him and scrambled to his feet, taking a shuddering breath.
He raced to Lov
ina. Bill was gone, the only reminders of him a broken arrow shaft on the ground and Lovina’s injuries.
The silver dragon roared, chasing Bill, shooting flame.
The bronze dragon landed between the trees as Lofty chased the last tharuk off. His father dismounted and was at his side in moments.
“Pa?” It took Tomaaz a moment to recover from the surprise. “Bill did this, Pa. He shattered her arm. I couldn’t stop him.” He’d made the wrong decision, looking for Pa when Lovina was in danger. “And her head …” He lifted her hair to reveal an ugly lump with a gash through it.
Pa placed a hand on his shoulder. “Son, how can we help?”
Lofty crouched next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, tell us what to do.”
Years of healing at his mother’s side kicked in. Tomaaz took off his jerkin, tearing what was left of it into strips. “Lofty, get me a short straight branch, about the length of her arm. Pa, cover her with something warm.”
Pa strode to a huge saddlebag on the side of the dragon and came back with a blanket. He tucked it around Lovina’s torso and felt her forehead. He sloshed some water from a waterskin into a mug and crumbled herbs into it, then took it to his dragon, who warmed the water with a small flame. Pa bundled another blanket under Lovina’s head, and gave Tomaaz a pot of healing salve. “I’ll give Lofty a hand with that branch. The sooner we can splint her arm, the better.”
Tomaaz lifted the cup to Lovina’s lips.
Her eyelids fluttered. “Tomaaz?”
“It’s all right, Lovina. Bill’s gone. I’m here.”
A Narrow Escape
Marlies traipsed on through the dark, keeping to the goat track zigzagging among the trees in a steep climb. That chimney Giant John had sent her through, full of cobwebs and slithering things, hadn’t been used in an age. It was good to be out of that shrotty wagon, breathing fresh air again. The moon slid above the tree line as if it had been waiting to greet her, reflecting off the snow higher up the mountain.
Were her family in danger? Was Ezaara fighting tharuks with Zaarusha? What about Hans and Tomaaz in Lush Valley? The beacon fire on the Western Pass had warned of an attack. She’d killed three tharuks at Nick’s inn, but how many more were coming? She shivered, and it was nothing to do with the biting northern wind. Tharuks were smothering the people of Dragons’ Realm like a thick suffocating blanket of evil, robbing innocents of free will and life. They were a scourge, a monstrosity created by a sick man. And she was heading straight to his lair.
Riders of Fire Box Set Page 44
