“I’ll get some.” Adelina dashed into the infirmary.
“What should I do?” Tomaaz asked. Shoulders slumped, he looked ready to collapse.
“Go and lie down and rest that hip,” Marlies said, taking the water from Adelina.
She dampened the wound. It was a ragged gash, weeping yellow pus. Marlies cut the stitches with her surgical knife. Ezaara bathed Erob’s exposed gut with clean herb. Marlies lifted back the edges of the wound and swabbed the pus away. They made a good team, working quickly and efficiently. If she wasn’t Queen’s Rider, Ezaara would have made a wonderful healer.
A low growl built in Erob’s throat.
“Adelina,” Marlies said, “please soothe him. The last thing I need is an irate dragon thrashing around.”
The young girl placed her hand on the great blue dragon’s snout, eyes shiny with tears. Zaarusha crooned to her son, resting her snout on his shoulder. Soon, Erob’s growls turned to whimpers.
Hans and Ezaara kept Marlies replenished with clean herb, but Ezaara seemed distracted and pensive.
“Hans,” Marlies mind-melded. “What happened tonight? Ezaara seems off-color.”
“I expect she’s just tired. We fought off a couple of tharuk troops.”
“Maybe that’s it. Pass the piaua, please.” Marlies wasn’t convinced. Something was eating at her daughter, but she had bigger things to worry about with a dying dragon on her hands.
Death Valley
With every swab of Erob’s belly, every dose of clean herb, and each drop of piaua, Ezaara wondered whether Roberto had similar wounds. Was he lying somewhere in Death Valley, his blood staining Zens’ floor? Was Zens battering his mind and crushing his will?
Zens delighted in brutality. Each moment in the evil commander’s presence lessened Roberto’s chance of survival.
She couldn’t delay any longer. If the council didn’t want to act, then she would. “Zaarusha, you saw tharuks dragging Erob across jagged stones. They nearly killed him,” Ezaara mind-melded. “They’ll kill Roberto too. I can’t leave him with Zens.”
“My son is gravely wounded, Ezaara.”
“We’ll go when Erob has been healed. I still have Anakisha’s ring, so we’ll be quick. No one will miss us.”
“Mother.” Erob’s voice was weak in Ezaara and Zaarusha’s minds. “Save Roberto … please.”
“My heart is heavy, Ezaara,” Zaarusha said. “Roberto’s already offered his life twice for us: once when he was banished in your stead; and again when Ajeuria attacked me. We’ll go, and answer to the council once we fetch him home.” Zaarusha placed a wing over Erob’s back, protectively. “But before we do, we must participate in Erob’s healing circle.”
“Of course. I’d do anything to help Erob.” Ezaara burned to leave, but they couldn’t abandon Erob.
They all stood around Erob in a ring, dragons interspersed with their riders, hands on hides, with Marlies touching Erob. Ezaara watched Handel’s bronze sathir stream through Hans and into Zaarusha, whose multi-colored energy soared around Ezaara, then flowed into Liesar, mingling with her silver glow. Silver light flowed through Ma’s hands into Erob. His scales grew darker, healthier. His sathir deepened in color until it was midnight blue.
After what seemed like forever, Erob opened his golden eyes, fixing them on Ezaara.
Ezaara mind-melded with him. “Thank the Egg, you’re better. We’re going to get Roberto, in secret. What do you know that could help us find him?”
Hope gave Erob’s voice strength. “They took him over Devil’s Gate. That’s all I know. Find him, Ezaara and Mother. Find my rider.”
Ezaara inclined her head, and she climbed upon Zaarusha.
“Ezaara,” called Ma. “You look tired. Do get some rest.”
“Good idea. Thanks, Ma,” Ezaara replied. A great idea, but not one she’d be using tonight.
Zaarusha leapt off the ledge and they flew across the dark basin. Ezaara chewed some freshweed while they soared, waiting for the blue guard patrol to fly past. When no one was watching, she rubbed Anakisha’s ring, whispering, “Kisha,” and they disappeared.
Once more, they faced Anakisha.
“Anakisha, we have to find Master Roberto,” Ezaara said, sharing a memory of his face. “He’s in Death Valley. Please send us near Devil’s Gate.”
With a crack, Zaarusha and Ezaara appeared above a mountain with a crude watchtower on it.
“This is Devil’s Gate.” Zaarusha said. “Your mother sneaked past here, injured, only to be captured down the other side. I’ll drop you on the next peak over.” Zaarusha winged away.
Tharuks shouted below.
“Do you think they’ve seen us?” Ezaara asked.
“For your sake, I hope not.” Zaarusha landed down the far side of the next peak. “Just in case, wear the cloak Roberto gave you,” the queen said. “It’s magicked. When you pull it around you, you’ll be invisible and leave no scent.”
Ezaara pulled the cloak on, hugged Zaarusha’s neck, and sped up the slope.
Zaarusha took to the sky. “Find Roberto, Ezaara, but remember, if it gets too dangerous, get out.”
Near the crest of the hill, Ezaara dropped to her belly and crept forward, peering between rocks at two tharuks warming their hands over a fire. Slinking off, she picked her way through the snowy terrain down a rocky trail.
A guttural voice cut through the night. “Bill sees shadow in sky. Now we climb up here. Not fair. Our patrol finished.”
Tharuks were coming up the trail. Ezaara slunk behind a rock, pulling her cloak around her, heart pounding. Old Bill from Lush Valley had been a tharuk spy. Were they talking about the same Bill?
“Quiet,” snarled another tharuk, tromping uphill. “Bill will hear you. Want Zens’ reward?”
“Not reward. Not me. After reward, 378 dead.”
“Said quiet.” A grunt of pain followed.
An answering roar came from up the trail. Close, too close. She was trapped between two groups. Gods, she needed a better hiding place. Ezaara scurried, half sliding down the track. Perhaps there was somewhere around that next bend.
An overpowering stench wafted on the breeze—tharuks were around the next corner. What was that shadow on the cliff? She scrambled over to a deep fissure with dirty churned-up snow at the entrance—well-used, but her only chance.
A spine-chilling snarl echoed from around the bend. Neck hair standing on end, Ezaara plunged into the fissure, tugging her cloak around her.
Inside, candle stubs flickered in recesses in the rock, casting light and leaping shadows. A tunnel network led deep inside the mountain. She dashed on. What in the Egg’s name was she doing? She could be heading right for Zens.
A guffaw echoed off the rock behind her, answered by snorts and heavy boots.
Ezaara raced deeper into the tunnel, squeezed into a crevasse, and froze, tugging her cloak around her. Not a moment too soon.
“Troop, stop,” a tharuk bellowed. “Tracker, come here. Smell something?”
Snuffling came from the fissure’s mouth. “No, sir,” a throaty voice replied. “Just rats, like always.”
Rats, just what she needed. Thank the dragon gods for freshweed and her cloak.
Hours passed. Every time Ezaara was about to sneak out to find Roberto, boots echoed along the tunnel.
It must be deep in the night by now. She had to find another exit, and find Roberto. Ezaara crawled deeper into the tunnel. Chinks in the left wall spilled light, illuminating a fork. Scraping her hands and knees, she headed along the left passage. At least she could see along here. The tunnel narrowed.
A scream rent the air.
Her blood froze. Roberto.
His next scream made her scalp crawl.
She pressed her eye to a chink in the rock. A wall of dark fur was in front of her, its edges limned in yellow light—a tharuk. The beast raised a whip and lashed out.
Roberto’s scream ripped through Ezaara. She bunched her fists.
&
nbsp; The beast struck again with the lash, and Roberto grunted in pain.
“Enough fun for tonight, Triple Zero,” an icy voice said. “Tomorrow, we’ll play with your sharp little toys.”
The tharuk laughed.
Zens—she was sure of it. His voice gave Ezaara icy chills. This was the sadist who’d thrown Ma around the room with the force of his mind, breaking her will to live. He’d ruined Roberto’s childhood, scarring him. And destroyed thousands of her people. The man who enslaved innocents. The man who’d created an army of monsters.
And Roberto was with him.
Fear crept its icy fingers up her spine.
Ezaara submerged her thoughts, going deep within herself. Thank the Egg, she’d practiced every day since Roberto had taught her.
The tharuk stalked across the cavern. Now she could see. Roberto was chained by a wrist and ankle to the rock, his head lolling on his shoulder.
000 hung its whip on the wall next to spiked metal implements and wicked knives—its sharp little toys.
A beautifully-manicured hand came into view, palm facing Roberto. Although the hand was body-lengths away, Roberto’s head shot back, slamming against the wall, his eyes bulging. He thrashed, gurgling, grasping at his throat.
Ezaara clamped her teeth on her lip, drawing blood. Her knuckles scraped stone.
“See, Roberto? I control the very air you breathe,” Zens said in a silky-smooth voice. He stepped into view, his back to Ezaara. “I say whether you breathe. When I’ve broken you, I’ll determine what you think. I’ll own you. And you’ll do my bidding.” He dropped his hand, the muscles in his arm and broad back flexing with latent power.
Roberto gasped, gulping in air, his eyes roaming the cavern.
Zens tilted his bald head, the light catching his sallow skin. “Think you’re clever, do you?” asked Zens. “Not clever enough, son of Amato.” He lingered over Roberto’s father’s name, giving Ezaara the creeps. “You can’t mind block me forever. I’ll break you, just like I did before.”
Zens addressed the tharuk. “Triple Zero, if he blocks you tomorrow, play a little longer.” He waved a hand at the rack of blades, some as tiny as Ezaara’s little finger and as slim as needles; others large enough to cleave a man’s head from his shoulders.
The tharuk picked up a needle as long as Ezaara’s forearm. “Perhaps this one, boss.”
“Yes, yes. Now, let’s check on our lovelies—our hope of destroying Dragons’ Realm.”
A door thunked, a key scraped in a lock, and Roberto was alone.
But not entirely alone. She was here. For long moments, Ezaara watched her lover from the chink in the wall. His rider’s garb was in tatters and crusted with blood. Lash marks were visible through the holes in his clothing, red and bloody, on his chest. New welts, open and raw, rose on his shoulders, blood welling from them. His face was haggard and bruised and his grimy hair was plastered to his head.
But it was Roberto, the man she loved.
Dare she mind-meld? Would Zens sense her? Had he already? He could be laying a trap for her, right now.
She couldn’t sit here, paralyzed by fear. She had to try something. Tentatively, Ezaara stretched out her senses to mind-meld with Roberto. She slammed into a rock wall—he was mind-blocking with an image of the cavern.
He turned his head, gazing around, his movements clumsy, as if he was punch drunk. His eyes rested on the chink in the wall. For a moment, he stared right at her. Impossible. He’d never be able to see an eye through a crack from so far away. Had he sensed her trying to meld?
Roberto bent his chained wrist so his palm was horizontal to the floor. The fingers on his hand stiffened—the signal to flee.
Was it her imagination? Had she made something out of a random movement?
Again his head tossed and turned, then his fingers flipped out, flat. Flee. The third time Roberto made the signal, he muttered something that sounded like now, as if delirious.
He wanted her to leave. She must be in danger. Maybe Zens had sensed her after all.
Again, palm down—the fourth time.
She couldn’t leave him.
But what could she do against tharuks as brutal as 000? Hundreds of them. Probably thousands. She knew where Roberto was. She’d report to the council and come back with reinforcements. They’d get him out.
One last time, Roberto made the signal to flee, then his head sagged like a rag doll.
Ezaara didn’t dare mind-meld to tell him she’d be back. Zens might sense her.
She crawled back along the tunnel, throat tight and eyes burning. If they didn’t rescue Roberto, Zens would kill him.
Discoveries
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Benji, head of the kitchens, said. “I’ve had so many trainees turning up for kitchen duty that I’ve sent half of them down to sort the storeroom—and that’s both sword fighters and archers.”
“What?” Lars replied. He’d never anticipated that.
“It’s Kierion. Apparently, he told them all that if they helped in the kitchens, they had more chance of being chosen as trainee dragon riders.”
“That scoundrel.” Lars laughed.
“Is it true?”
“It had crossed my mind that those who accepted responsibility for that prank might have enough integrity to become riders.” How had Kierion guessed his intentions?
As if reading his mind, Benji said, “I tell you, that one’s ahead of the bunch. It’d be good to harness some of his excess energy.”
Lars gave a wry smile. “I trust you’ll keep him busy enough to stay out of trouble. How’s tension between the sword fighters and the archers? Are they spitting at each other over the cauldrons?”
“Kierion gave them a pep talk. Told them it’s tharuks they should be fighting, not each other. Said he’d been a fool to hide their arrows. Now they’re working hand in glove.”
As Lars was shaking his head in amazement, someone knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Lars called.
Jerrick, master of archery, came inside. “Lars, did I miss something? Has the council instigated a new training schedule?”
“Why?”
“This morning, the trainee sword fighters turned up for extra archery practice. And my trainee archers have doubled their sword practice, fighting the … ahem, blade thrusters, as they call them.” Jerrick shrugged. “A wise move. They could all do with extra cross-training, but I just wasn’t aware it was happening.”
Neither was Lars. Must be Kierion’s work. Inventive indeed. That young man had leadership potential. Benji winked. He knew it was Kierion, too. Lars cleared his throat. “Yes, I’ve assigned Kierion to train the blade thrusters and arrow flingers to work as a team.”
“That irresponsible cur that hid all of our arrows?” Jerrick blustered. “Why he’s—”
“Effective?” Lars asked dryly. “A brilliant leader?”
Jerrick stopped in his tracks. His open mouth broke into a grin. “Effective. If he’s the one behind this, he’s sharding amazing!”
§
Adelina patted Erob’s blue scales and rose from sitting between his front limbs. Worry had gnawed at her stomach, keeping her awake. As dawn’s early rays had crept onto the ledge outside the infirmary, she’d faced the wan sun, hoping it would warm her, but nothing could melt the chill inside her.
Except Roberto’s return.
He’d been her anchor for so long. Protecting her when Pa had wanted to beat her. Taking beatings for her, hiding her from Pa. Even diving with her in Crystal Lake to wash her fear and worry away. Then there was that awful year when her father had kidnapped Roberto and given him to Zens. Her skin still crawled at the thought of her father willingly giving her brother to that brutal monster. Roberto had come back changed. Nightmares had plagued him. Anger had stalked him. But when Pa had broken Ma’s back, Roberto had loved her and nursed her until she’d died.
Since then they’d only had each other—and Erob.
Adelina had been awake since yesterday morning. A whole day and night of knowing Roberto was in danger, and doing nothing. If Erob was well enough, they’d fly off and search for him. Although his belly wound was mended, he’d lost a lot of blood. It could be days until he’d have the strength to fly.
There was a whump and a flurry of snow on the ledge as Liesar landed with a goat’s haunch in her jaws. Handel and Liesar had agreed to take turns hunting for Erob.
Watching dragons eat might put Adelina off her own breakfast. She stamped her frozen feet. She’d head to the mess cavern. She wasn’t going to be any use to anyone cold and hungry.
“Hi, Adelina.” Mara and Leah were coming past the infirmary, so she fell into step with them. A few years younger than her, they were both orphans too. “What was it like?” they asked, eyes wide. “They’re saying you’re a real hero now, because you fought tharuks and rescued a dragon.”
“A hero, huh? Says who?”
“Kierion.”
Adelina rolled her eyes. “Since when did you two take anything he says seriously?”
The girls giggled. They all went into the busy mess cavern. Happy chatter from the kitchen punctuated the hum of conversation and the clatter of people eating.
Mara leaned in. “Since Kierion’s prank with the arrows, it’s so jolly in the kitchen because everyone’s helping.”
Worry about Roberto had driven Kierion’s hoax from her mind. “So I heard. You two find seats and I’ll get breakfast for us.” Adelina lined up and served dollops of porridge into three bowls, and then grabbed jam and fresh bread. Taking her laden tray, she threaded her way through the crowded tables to join the girls at their table in a corner. Thank the Egg, Mara and Leah had left her a seat that faced the wall. The last thing she felt like was plastering on a smile for the world.
Leah spread jam on her bread roll.
“How’s it going?” Adelina gestured at Leah’s hand. Tharuks had nearly severed her finger when Septimor had brought her to Dragons’ Hold over two moons ago. Ezaara had had to finish the job.
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