Riders of Fire Box Set

by Eileen Mueller

  “Just that one kiss in the orchard. She’s nearly qualified—Lars said so himself. She saved the queen’s life, for the sharding Egg’s sake.” Roberto’s breath sawed in and out of his chest. “And mine.” Tonio’s eyes narrowed, and he jabbed a finger at Roberto, but Roberto cut him off before he could start. “And maybe she saved your life too, by catching the traitors you failed to detect.”

  That last bit was too much. Tonio’s dark eyes flashed.

  Roberto had never noticed the similarity before, but Tonio looked just like Roberto’s abusive father, Amato, with his calculating Naobian eyes. Shards. He shouldn’t have goaded him.

  “I could have your head for this, sent to the Wastelands on a platter,” Tonio snarled. “However, this trip will probably kill you.” He shoved his finger in Roberto’s face. “Find out about those new creatures, Roberto, and get out. If you get stuck in Death Valley, we won’t be coming after you.”

  Roberto pushed off the wall, forcing Tonio to take a step backward. “So, you can forgive Marlies for killing a dragonet, but not me for being Amato’s son? What is it that Amato did to you, Tonio? Why do you hate me so much?”

  Pain flashed across Tonio’s face. Stiff with rage, he stalked out.

  §

  With Tomaaz and Roberto about to leave for Death Valley, and everyone buzzing around preparing, no one noticed Ezaara slipping out to the infirmary ledge. Her boots crunched in the snow.

  Pa’s dragon, Handel, was resting, his tail curled around his huge bronze body. Pa and Handel had the gift of prophecy. If anyone knew the outcome of this trip, it would be them. Thank the Egg, Handel was alone. She couldn’t risk telling Pa how she felt about Roberto.

  “Handel, please tell me,” Ezaara mind-melded. “Will Roberto and Tomaaz be safe in Death Valley?” She hid her feelings for her master so Handel wouldn’t know.

  Handel snorted. “Death Valley is always dangerous. As Queen’s Rider, you should know that.”

  “I’m asking about this specific trip. Will anything happen to them?”

  He huffed, his breath stirring up dust. “You thought I could conjure up a quick prophecy to reassure yourself about your master and your brother? These are perilous times, my Queen’s Rider. You heard the council. Commander Zens is creating new monsters to overthrow us—worse than tharuks—beasts that can easily kill dragons. We must know everything we can about these new enemies.”

  “I know, it’s just that—”

  “You want reassurance, comfort, and safety.” Handel’s tail twitched. “Nowhere is safe. Not even Lush Valley, now that tharuks have breached the pass.”

  Why wouldn’t he answer her? “Handel, listen.”

  “No, you listen. I’ve recently returned from the edge of Death Valley and fought Zen’s tharuks. I wouldn’t wish that experience on anyone.” He leaned his head down. “I can show you, but don’t blame me if it’s not what you want to see.”

  Although she could mind-meld with any dragon without touching them, when she’d last touched Handel, it had prompted a rush of prophetic visions. Ezaara put a hand on Handel’s hide. This time, there was a single vision. One she’d seen before: Roberto’s face was a mask of hate as he lunged for her—

  Ezaara yanked her hand away.

  Handel blinked his emerald eyes. “This may not come to pass.”

  “A vision so strong? I’ve seen it twice now …” Her stomach clenched. Roberto hurt her? No.

  “All right, so maybe it will happen.” Handel twitched his scaly shoulders and wrapped his tail around his body.

  No. Ezaara refused to accept it. She clung to a sliver of hope. Roberto loved her. Surely, he would never harm her. She shuddered, staring down at the dark forest in the basin of Dragons’ Hold.

  §

  Zaarusha landed in the orchard, the draft from her wings making the autumn leaves flutter. Ezaara slid down to the ground and patted her side. “Thank you.”

  The dragon queen furled her wings and went over to nuzzle her son, Erob, resting on the grass.

  Roberto took Ezaara by the hand and led her under an apple tree. His onyx eyes blazing, he pulled her into his arms. “I swear it, Ezaara. I swear I’ll come back to you.” He buried his lips in her hair, kissing the top of her head.

  Ezaara’s heart banged against her ribcage like a battle drum. “So many things could go wrong,” she mind-melded. “Why did you volunteer? Zens could kill you.”

  “Someone’s got to go. I know Death Valley.”

  “Yes, and Zens knows you. He’ll chew you up and spit you out before breakfast.”

  “Ezaara—”

  “I don’t like it.” She mind-melded with the queen. “Zaarusha, tell him he can stay.”

  Zaarusha replied, “Roberto and Tomaaz are the logical choices.”

  The sadness in his dark eyes made her breath catch. Neither of them wanted him to go, but he would serve their queen.

  “Let’s enjoy our time together,” Roberto said. They sat on a log and he fished in his pocket, pulling out a purple pouch of aged velvet. “This is for you.” He passed it to her. “Go on, open it.”

  “Thank you.” Ezaara hadn’t expected a gift. She loosened the silken drawstring and tipped up the pouch. A crystal teardrop on a fine silver chain slid into her palm. She held it up. The teardrop twirled in the sun, casting tiny rainbows across Roberto’s face. “It’s beautiful.”

  “My mother gave it to me before she died. It belonged to my grandmother. Ma said it was magic, although she never used it.”

  “Magic? What does it do?”

  “I’m not sure, but I wanted to give you something special. I hope it’ll comfort you while I’m gone.” His fingers traced her cheek, lingering. “Besides, I wouldn’t want you to forget me.”

  Forget him? He was seared into her soul. “It was your mother’s. It should go to Adelina.”

  “Ma gave Adelina another heirloom. This one’s mine—and now it belongs to you.”

  The crystal hummed beneath her fingertips. “That’s strange. It’s vibrating.” She closed her palm around its smooth, comforting surface. “You won’t be here for my name day tomorrow.”

  “You’re seventeen summers tomorrow? I’m sorry.” His eyes were tinged with regret.

  She shrugged. “I have something for you too.” She pulled a crinkled green ribbon out of her pocket and passed it to him.

  His eyes widened. “I gave that back to Adelina when I was banished.”

  And Adelina had thrown the ribbon in Ezaara’s face, blaming her for her brother’s banishment, because the ribbon Ezaara had given him had constituted a vow between Queen’s Rider and her trainer—that he would pledge his life to protect Ezaara.

  And he had. He’d taken the blame when she’d been framed for murder, knowing she’d never survive the Wastelands and the Robandi desert assassins.

  “When I gave you this ribbon, I didn’t know it formed a pledge. Did you realize?” she asked.

  “I suspected.”

  “Then why did you take it?”

  “Because I wanted to protect you.” His midnight eyes flashed.

  “Even though you were being so arrogant?”

  “Like this?” Roberto straightened, staring down his nose at her, and curled his lip. “Yes, my Queen’s Rider,” he said in that sarcastic cold voice he was so good at.

  She whacked him, smiling. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

  Roberto threw back his head and laughed. Grinning, he took the crystal, his fingers tracing delicately across her skin as he fastened it at her nape. She leaned against him. He wrapped his arms around her and whispered, “I’ll remember our time together, and I’ll come back to you as soon as I can.”

  “I’m worried. What if Commander Zens—”

  “I won’t let anything keep me away from you. You’ve given my life meaning.” With Roberto’s thoughts came a powerful surge of emotion that left Ezaara breathless.

  “You feel that strongly about me?” she asked.

&
nbsp; “You know I do.”

  He kissed her. Not like their first kiss, just five days ago in this very orchard. This kiss ignited a slow flame that burned inside her, like a beacon for him to come home to.

  His face grew serious. “Before I go, I need to teach you two more mental techniques. In Naobia, I taught you to fixate, to block a mental intrusion by fixing an image in your mind, but there are two other techniques that are just as valuable: submerging and the silent witness.” His voice rumbled through her head, “You’re outnumbered. Tharuks are hunting you.”

  Roberto’s midnight eyes seemed to swallow her. Gods, she could lose herself in them. She had to focus.

  Suddenly, tharuks were in her mind, firing arrows and gashing people with claws. Tusks dripping blood, they tracked her scent through the forest. Fear ratcheted through her. How did he do that? Kick an image into her head so powerful she wanted to cower?

  Roberto’s voice was gentle. “How can you prevent them from finding you?”

  “Take freshweed and hide.” Ezaara’s voice shook, even though she knew these horrific beasts weren’t the real thing. “Hopefully, they’d pass me by. Especially if I doubled back. My scent …”

  A tharuk loomed in her mind. Smaller than the others, with black eyes, it seemed to stare right through her. A vice tightened itself around her head, the way it had in Roberto’s memories. A mind bender. “No,” Ezaara cried out. Shards, this was crazy. It was only a mental image. The monster’s roar ripped through her head, and she hunched, hands over her ears.

  Roberto was doing this. No wonder he hated his talents. No wonder Tonio feared him.

  “You’ll recognize mind benders because their eyes are black, instead of red. Mind benders can find you by sensing your thoughts—unless you submerge by going so far inside yourself there’s no trace of what you’re thinking.” The tharuks in her head disappeared. “I’ll demonstrate. Stay melded and notice the difference.”

  Ezaara closed her eyes.

  Roberto’s mind was vibrant. His thoughts faded, slipping away like water through fingers, until they were barely a whisper. Then, like a candle snuffed out by a draft, he was gone.

  Ezaara cast out her mind. Strange, usually Roberto slammed a wall between them when he was blocking her, but there was nothing. She opened her eyes.

  He was still there.

  “How?”

  “Peel away your mental habits—your anxieties, thoughts, fears and passions—and reach a state of calm. Go to the true center of your being and remain still for as long as you can.”

  “Sathir.” That’s what he meant. “Feeling the connection with nature and becoming one with it.” She’d done this in the desert.

  “Sathir is life energy.”

  Ezaara shrugged. “To the silent ones, sathir also means reaching a meditative state.”

  “Try.” The sun cast a golden sheen on Roberto’s skin. His voice was soft, eyes warm. His mind, sharp.

  Ezaara submerged by sensing sathir and finding her still place. Roberto probed. He found her several times, when she was distracted by his dark eyes or soft laugh.

  She sighed. “It’s not exactly easy with you loving me.”

  “It’s not going to be easy in battle, either.” He raised an eyebrow. “Try again.”

  Twice, he couldn’t detect her.

  “Better. Now, I’ll teach you the hand signals.”

  “Hand signals?”

  “I’ve developed signals for each of these mental techniques, for communicating when a mind bender is near. A subtle circle with the thumb means fixate.” Roberto flicked his thumb around in a small circle.

  She copied him. “So, this is fixing an image in my mind?”

  “Right, and a twitch of your middle finger is for the silent witness, and lifting your smallest finger is the signal to submerge.”

  “I think I’ve got them.” Ezaara demonstrated each gesture. “Thumb circle for fixate, small finger for submerging, and middle finger for silent witness—whatever that is.”

  “We’ll get to that in a minute. The last signal is a flat hand, palm down, telling you to flee immediately.”

  “Flat hand, flee. I hope I never need it.”

  “So do I. Now, the last thing is the silent witness. You need to mind-meld with me, without leaving a trace of your own thoughts. I’ll show you.”

  “How would that be useful, melding if you can’t hear my thoughts?”

  “I’ll show you. There are two parts of your mind that are active in mind-melding, the part that reaches out to make a connection, and the part that produces thoughts. To perform the silent witness, you need to make the connection, but shield your thoughts. Observe.”

  Roberto placed his hands upon her temples.

  She was in the sacred grove in Lush Valley again, the alps rising high above the forest, and Zaarusha overhead. Sunlight blazed through her—she was imprinting with the queen.

  Roberto murmured in her mind, “I hope you enjoy this experien—” His voice was gone.

  “Roberto, are you still there?”

  In a swirl of colors, Ezaara was swept up onto Zaarusha’s back and, heart pounding, flew away from her family.

  “Could you sense me?” Roberto gently brought the experience to a stop.

  “Only at the start.”

  “You try.”

  Ezaara melded with Roberto. His mind was buzzing. He and his sister Adelina were swimming in a sparkling sapphire lake. She raced him, diving deep and entering a long channel in the rock. Roberto swam strongly, chasing Adelina, and they both came up inside a cavern, gasping for breath. “I love it here.” Adelina grinned.

  “I know. Pa will never find us here,” Roberto replied.

  “If we ever have to run away, I’ll meet you here.”

  Shards, what a life, scared of their own father.

  “Silent witness,” Roberto melded. “Submerge.”

  She quieted her thoughts, striving to become a silent witness.

  “Ezaara, you’re like an iron fortress standing in my path. Be gentle, simply fade away.”

  Ezaara blocked him out, but the vision of Adelina died.

  “Try again.”

  Perhaps it was like sleeping or dreaming, just relaxing and letting her mind slip away.

  “That’s it. You disappeared.” He broke mind-meld. “You could still see my memory, right?”

  “Phew, that’s easy, but still really hard work.” Ezaara wiped her brow. “Now that we’ve mastered the silent witness, how do tharuks mind bend?”

  “Using the silent witness lets you sense what someone’s thinking, unobserved. Mind benders inflict mental violence and terror. I won’t teach anyone those techniques. It was bad enough having them thrust upon me.”

  “So why are you teaching me?” she asked.

  “As Master of Mental Faculties and Imprinting I have to test people on trial. If you could perform tests too, we’d have a better chance of discovering spies and traitors, and if anything happened to me, my skills wouldn’t be lost. I’ve been trying to convince the council to train more people, but they’re too scared of mental powers.”

  So that was it. “You’re teaching me because you might not come back.”

  Roberto’s eyes slid away. “There is that,” he finally said, meeting her gaze. “These tools are valuable. I don’t want them lost.”

  “And I don’t want to lose you.”

  His eyes burned through her and he bent his head, kissing her again. Their sathir swirled around them, enveloping them in a protective cocoon—his dark blue flecked with silver dancing with her vibrant colors.

  Roberto smiled. “Now, let’s compose ourselves and go back to face the council so Tomaaz and I can receive our final instructions.”

  Unbidden, Handel’s vision rushed into Ezaara’s mind—Roberto lunging at her, his handsome face twisted with hatred.

  She clamped down on the vision. No, Roberto would never harm her. He’d nearly given his life for her, bleeding out on the de
sert sands with a gut wound inflicted by feuding Robandi. This awful prophecy had to be wrong. But Ezaara couldn’t help the dark feeling rising inside her. As Roberto took her hand and they walked back to their dragons, a shiver snaked down her spine.

  Dragons’ Hold

  Tomaaz was slumped in the saddle, his head leaning on Maazini’s spinal ridge, clinging on with aching arms. How many days had they been flying? It felt like forever. His hip throbbed like someone was pounding it on an anvil, the pain making him dizzy. His throat was parched and his stomach twisted with hunger, but he had no food and he was too weak to reach for the trickle left in the waterskin.

  Ahead, moonlight glanced off snow-clad slopes. Maazini beat his wings, ascending a mountainside. Tomaaz’s eyes blurred and drifted shut, darkness claiming him.

  The dragon’s voice rumbled in his mind, jolting his eyes open. “Tomaaz, we’re nearly there.”

  Tomaaz dimly registered the glance of moonlight on snow. If that was snow, he should be cold, but he was burning up, limbs trembling as he clung to his loyal dragon.

  Lovina’s face swam before his eyes, and he reached out to stroke her cheek, slipping sideways.

  “Tomaaz!” The sharpness of Maazini’s tone snapped him out of delirium.

  They swooped over a mountain peak, and plunged down the other side toward a dark forest. His head spun. Maazini headed across the basin, backwinging alongside a ledge. Grunting, the dragon scrabbled on the rock for a foothold, scattering shale and snow down the mountainside. “We’re at Dragons’ Hold.”

  “Made it … we made it.” Tomaaz fumbled to untie the saddle straps around his waist—the only things that had stopped him from sliding out of the saddle. Sweat stung his eyes as his fingers fumbled with the knots. And then he was free.

  “Easy,” Maazini cautioned as Tomaaz gritted his teeth and hoisted his good leg over the saddle.

  Red hot pain seared like a poker in his hip, rippling up his side. He clamped his teeth down and drew blood, salty and wet. He sucked down the moisture. Jaw clenched, he slid out of the saddle, breaking his descent with the straps.

  “Ugh. Ah—” He landed on his uninjured leg. Leaning against Maazini, he struggled for breath. He had to see Ezaara, pass her a message. He haltingly put some weight on his injured leg, but his hip, awash with fire, gave out. Tomaaz slipped and struck his head on the stone floor, and everything went black.