Riders of Fire Box Set

by Eileen Mueller

  Suddenly he slipped, hurtling toward the ground. Riona dived after Kierion.

  Ezaara’s breath caught in her throat. Zaarusha’s haunches tensed and they were airborne. Handel shot toward Riona.

  Kierion hollered, “Fooled you all,” as Riona snatched him in her talons again.

  Shards, he was a trickster.

  “That brat. We’ll show him.” Zaarusha’s relief swept through Ezaara.

  Heart still pounding, Ezaara relaxed as Zaarusha backwinged.

  There was stunned silence. Then someone clapped. Others joined in. The stunt pair spiraled lazily toward the clearing and Riona let Kierion down to the ground. He pumped his fists in the air. Raucous applause and cheering broke out.

  Ezaara’s grip eased. “He always has the last laugh, doesn’t he?”

  “Not today. It’s our turn. Hang on.” Zaarusha beat her wings.

  The chill wind flung Ezaara’s ribbons into her face. She pulled up her hood, stuffing them inside. The basin was stunning, covered in its cool winter coat, stark against the blue sky. The icy forest and gray lake had been transformed from when she’d trained with Roberto on the sunny shore. Dragon’s claws, she missed him. Worried about him. Thank the Egg, they were going tomorrow.

  “Focus.” Zaarusha broke into her thoughts.

  Ezaara breathed deeply. “I’m ready.”

  “We’ll start slowly,” thrummed Zaarusha. The queen flashed images at Ezaara, preparing her for their stunts.

  She sucked in her breath. “That’ll be challenging.” She swallowed, trying to ease the knot in her throat. Ezaara relinquished her thoughts, letting Zaarusha take over. Fire slipped into her veins, warmth rushing through her chest and limbs.

  “First, we’ll face our loyal and not-so-loyal subjects.” Zaarusha flew low over the crowd.

  Ezaara scanned their upturned faces, taking in friendly smiles, sneers and suspicion—a far cry from when everyone had cheered her when she’d first come to Dragons’ Hold. Sofia had laid her poison well. Now, they had to undo it.

  Zaarusha flew along the mountainside, past every dragon rider. “We can’t be divided when Zens attacks, or he’ll slaughter us. Today we must unite our people in their loyalty to you.”

  Countless eyes stared at Ezaara. She slipped her arms into the leather arm-holds on Zaarusha’s saddle, anchored her feet in the stirrups, and pressed her knees against the queen’s sides. Her stomach plummeted as Zaarusha flipped upside-down, looping over and over.

  Everything tumbled. Snatches of mountainside. Snowy trees. Wan sky. Blurred faces of dragons and riders. Zaarusha’s wingbeats whooshed in her ears. Her senses reeled, but through it all, fire danced in her, welcoming the challenge. She had Zaarusha. The queen would not let her down.

  “I’ve stopped looping.”

  “I can’t tell.” Everything was still spinning, images whirling in her confused brain. Her ears were roaring. Ezaara closed her eyes and breathed.

  She opened them. That wasn’t her ears roaring, it was the crowd. She grinned, waving to them. “What’s next?”

  “That will put Nadira in her place.” Zaarusha lazily circled the clearing. “Their applause is a bit premature, don’t you think? Wait until they see this.” Zaarusha shot up, zigzagging in and out of the peaks of Dragon’s Teeth.

  Exhilaration rushed through Ezaara, making her chest expand until she thought it would burst. This was living. This was what their bond had been forged for. The queen hurtled down the slope at breakneck speed, swooping up just short of the trees. Ezaara’s laugh rang over the basin as they flew above the watching riders.

  “Ready, Ezaara?”

  “Give me the signal.” Ezaara stood on the saddle, waiting for Zaarusha’s tail flick. Sathir swirled around them like a vibrant river of colors.

  Zaarusha’s tail twitched.

  Ezaara dived, plunging head first, arms extended. Counting to four, she curled into a ball and somersaulted three times. Zaarusha flicked her tail against her back, bouncing her in the air. Ezaara readied herself for the second and third bounces, each one lighter than the last, then righted herself and fell into Zaarusha’s saddle, straddling it. She fastened her harness, and prepared to corkscrew.

  Up they shot, higher than Zaarusha had ever taken her. Everyone receded from sight. Bitter wind tugged at her jerkin. Shivering, Ezaara shoved her arms through the arm-holds as the peaks of Dragon’s Teeth were dwarfed.

  They dived, corkscrewing down. Zaarusha spun around her axis, wings tight against her sides. Ezaara’s eyes stung from wind, running with tears. Peaks flashed past in a dizzying whirl. The mountain faces blurred in a whirlpool of light, snow and rock. Down they spiraled in a dizzy coil. Nausea hit Ezaara. She closed her eyes and tuned into Zaarusha, sensing her sathir. Her stomach calmed.

  With a lurch, Zaarusha unfurled her wings and righted herself, shooting up level with the riders on the ledges. “Sorry about pushing your limits, but they have to see that you aren’t just another rider.” Zaarusha’s fire blazed through them both. “They can’t touch us with their gossip, politics or personal attacks. You are Queen’s Rider, here at Dragons’ Hold to stay.”

  Ezaara rubbed Zaarusha’s hide. “So, should we try some talon acrobatics?” They hadn’t practiced much, but why not?

  “Absolutely. We still have height if I drop you.”

  “You won’t.”

  “You’re as cocky as Kierion.”

  Ezaara laughed. “Maybe I’ll use some of his showy tactics.” Heart pounding, she slid off Zaarusha, the wind clawing at her jerkin. “Yahooo.” Just like Kierion.

  Zaarusha dived, grasping Ezaara’s arms, twisting her talons around her hands.

  Shoulders burning, she hung on. “I’m ready.”

  Zaarusha’s grip slackened. Hand by hand, Ezaara adjusted her grip down until she was holding a talon in each hand. “I can’t hold on for long,” she melded. “It’s now or never.”

  “Go,” barked Zaarusha.

  Taking a deep breath, Ezaara tucked her knees against her chest, tipped her head and spun over.

  The crowd below, oohed.

  Breath rasping, Ezaara uncurled her body and transferred her hands to a talon. Lifting her legs, she swung back and forth, holding Zaarusha’s talon. Then Ezaara flipped upside down, hooking her legs around Zaarusha’s limb and releasing her hands.

  This was amazing. The world was upside down and she was high above the ground, wind tossing her hair as Zaarusha flew along the cliff faces, Ezaara upside-down, holding on with her legs. Faces flashed past, painted with shock and astonishment.

  They cheered. Dragons rumbled, flames flicking from their maws. Applause rang off the mountain faces.

  “My legs are tired, Zaarusha.”

  “Ready? I’m letting you go.” Zaarusha flung Ezaara upward with her powerful legs and caught her in the saddle. The queen pirouetted mid-air before the screaming crowd.

  “Was that enough?” asked Ezaara.

  “Nearly,” replied Zaarusha. “Take the ribbons from your hair, like the day you presented them to Roberto. We need to remind them of that day too, and the loyalty they felt for you, back then.”

  Ezaara unfastened her ribbons, holding them high, and Zaarusha leap-frogged through the air.

  “E-zaa-ra! Zaa-ru-sha! E-zaa-ra! Zaa-ru-sha!” the crowd chanted, the way they had on her flight test.

  In a whirl of faces and sound, Ezaara felt completely happy—well, not completely. Roberto was still captive.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll get him tomorrow.”

  What if tomorrow was too late?

  Dragon Race

  Dragons flew to the starting line melted in the snow, their riders dismounting, boots crunching as they gathered to await instructions. Adelina came over to Ezaara. “That was impressive.” She hugged her.

  “Thank you,” Ezaara replied. “Wasn’t Kierion brilliant?”

  The smile Adelina gave was genuine. “Sure was, the scoundrel.”

  A bunch of lads wer
e clapping Kierion on the back.

  “Well done, Ezaara,” a woman said. “That was impressive.”

  Across the sea of people, Ma and Pa waved at her, smiling proudly.

  Alyssa blew the horn for silence. “We acknowledge our Honored Queen’s Rider, Ezaara, as the champion stunt rider of Dragons’ Realm. We also honor Kierion’s bravery, although he may have had more competition if our senior riders had participated.”

  “Not fair,” called Kierion among good-natured laughter.

  “Congratulations to our stunt riders. Good luck to all of you with future stunts. These are valuable in learning agility and trust, but be careful,” Alyssa said. “We don’t want to lose you. You’ll all be needed in the war against Zens and his tharuks. I’ll turn the time to Master Lars.”

  Lars’ icy-blue eyes swept the assembled riders and spectators. “I’d like to remind you that Ezaara is Queen’s Rider, has been since she imprinted, and will remain so. Any questions regarding her eligibility will be handled by the council. Just now, you’ve seen that she is fearless and has a deep bond with the dragon queen. Not one of you could do what she just did. Much will be required of her when we go to war against Commander Zens and his armies of tharuks. Do not envy the responsibility she’s shouldered.”

  Someone jabbed Ezaara’s back. When she turned, everyone was looking at their council leader.

  “You’ve seen the trust she has in Zaarusha,” Lars said. “Ezaara has earned the same trust from us. I ask that you give it willingly, freely. Let’s put an end to these vicious rumors and have peace among us as we face war with our enemy.” He stepped back.

  “Ready?” Master Alyssa cried, holding her horn high. Everyone cheered. “You’ll race to the clearing at the far side of the lake, swoop down to the dead conifer and pluck a cone from its branches. The winner is the first to drop their cone in this basket.” She gestured to one of the huge baskets used for gathering fruit from the orchards. “Singlar has marked all of the cones in that tree, so there’s no cheating.”

  “Got that, Kierion?” someone called.

  “You’re just jealous,” he crowed, amid laughter.

  “All trainees, including newly-imprinted riders, must participate,” Alyssa continued. “You’ll be racing against the Queen’s Rider and your masters, except for Master Derek and I. We’ll be judging the race. Any other riders can join in. The more who fly, the merrier. Now, go to your dragons, get to the start line, and await the horn. Good luck.”

  “You’re a murderer, not a Queen’s Rider,” someone hissed, voice dripping venom.

  Ezaara spun. The crowd was dispersing, so it was impossible to see who had spoken. “Did you hear that?” she asked Adelina.

  “What?” Adelina asked.

  “More insults.”

  “Ignore them. Zaarusha chose you. No one else has that right.” Adelina said, dodging around a beefy rider.

  “But Anakisha’s prophecy …” Ezaara pushed her way through the throng.

  “Handel says it will be fulfilled.”

  “How?”

  Adelina shrugged. “Good luck.” They knocked fists and Adelina headed to Linaia.

  “Trust me, it will work out,” Zaarusha melded.

  “I do trust you. Others should too.” She was nearly at Zaarusha when someone shoved her. She spun to see Sofia, Alban and Nadira smirking. She glared at them. “Feeling well enough to bully people again, are you, Alban?”

  Zaarusha roared, sending them scurrying. People turned and stared. “Climb up. Let’s race.”

  Ezaara scrambled into the harness, strapping it tight. Zaarusha took off and roared again, sending a warning flame above Sofia, Alban and Nadira’s heads. “We’ll triumph over these gossipmongers, you’ll see.”

  “Who’s the fastest dragon here?” asked Ezaara.

  “I am, now that Syan is gone.” A wave of sorrow swept across Ezaara—Zaarusha’s, for her dead mate. “The next fastest are Erob, Ajeurina and Maazini, due to their royal blood.”

  “Has Erob recovered fully?”

  “He and Maazini are both fit again.”

  In her worry over Roberto, she’d neglected Erob and Maazini. She must visit Erob when the race was over. He’d be pining for Roberto too. Dragons were landing, stamping, impatient to get going. They jostled into place, side by side, along the starting line, leaving at least two wing breadths between them.

  Alyssa waved her horn. “Remember, healthy competition and strategy are allowed, but no violence. Save that for tharuks. Enjoy the race.”

  “Let’s whip their tails.” Zaarusha’s body thrummed with suppressed excitement.

  Cheers rose as dragons and riders were poised, coiled tight with tension, waiting for their signal. There was a short blast on the horn accompanied by Lysika’s roar.

  A sea of dragons rose like a giant tidal wave, cresting upward. The air was thick with rustling wings as everyone battled to get free of the throng. Roars filled Ezaara’s ears. Tiny gusts of flame shot around them.

  Zaarusha pulled above the thrashing wings. Only a few experienced masters were flying high above the crowd, until Ezaara heard a holler and Kierion shot above them, a few new trainees trailing him.

  “’Atta girl, Riona,” he called out. “Come on, you lot, let’s show them.” Riona streamlined her body and they shot forward.

  Zaarusha’s jaws flared with flame and she broke free of the other dragons, zipping ahead toward the forest. Smoke trailed from her jaws, enveloping Kierion.

  Kierion spluttered and coughed. “Not fair.”

  A bitter winter wind rushed through Ezaara’s hair. Tightening her hood, she glanced behind. Dragons were gaining on them.

  “A purple one, coming in fast. It’s Aria,” said Zaarusha, “and she’s bent on catching us. Let’s show her and Sofia a trick or two.”

  Ezaara melded fully with Zaarusha, letting their sathir merge in a stream of color. Fire licked through her. The snowy fields whipped by beneath them. Soon they were over the forest, heading toward the lake, the dark fir branches dusted with snow.

  Behind, the sky was teeming with dragons. Zaarusha was right: Maazini’s orange scales stood out close behind, followed by Singlar, Ajeurina and Erob. There was a dark-haired rider upon Erob. Her breath caught. Shards, he looked like Roberto. He couldn’t be back, could he? Heart pounding, she asked, “Who’s flying Erob?”

  “Tonio. He’s here for security. Erob offered to take him, because he’s fast.”

  That explained it. They were both Naobian. Disappointment knifed through her. “Erob, the council have agreed to fetch Roberto tomorrow.”

  “Good, because if they don’t go, I’ll go myself,” he sniped.

  Erob was usually good-natured, often humorous. “I get it, Erob, I really do. The council have given their word.” If they kept it. Adelina’s doubts niggled at her.

  A snort was his only reply. Erob plunged below Zaarusha and swooped up to come alongside them. Ajeurina mirrored his actions on the other side, then they were off, with Singlar and Maazini on their tails, Tomaaz yahooing.

  A sudden flash of purple above them told her that Kierion had joined them. “We caught those sluggish old snails,” quipped Riona so Ezaara could hear.

  Beyond the forest, the lake was edged with icy lace. Wings thrashed as they flew across the deep blue toward the snowy clearing. Zaarusha forged her way ahead of the others, aiming for the massive conifer. Denuded of needles, its branches were heavy with unshed cones.

  Zaarusha wheeled dangerously close, snatching a cone in her outstretched talon, then veered up into the sky. Flapping wings and dragon snorts sounded against the muted snowscape as Erob, Riona and Ajeurina darted in to grab cones.

  With a crack, a dragon knocked a branch off the tree, sending it thudding to the snow. More dragons snapped branches off in their haste to get cones.

  “Lars is clever,” Ezaara melded. “They’re clearing the dead wood for him.”

  Zaarusha rumbled, “Never underestimate Lars.
Here, catch.” Zaarusha stretched her foreleg out, flinging the cone to Ezaara.

  Nearby, Sofia caught a cone from Aria. Ezaara grinned at her, trying, yet again, to be friendly.

  Without warning, Aria wheeled toward Zaarusha and roared, flames exploding from her jaws. Aria’s thoughts ripped through Ezaara’s mind. “Traitors. Anakisha’s heir has a right to rule.”

  Fierce heat engulfed them. Ezaara hunkered down behind Zaarusha’s neck.

  Zaarusha shrieked in pain, blasting Aria with fire. The queen’s shock slammed through Ezaara as they twisted out of Aria’s reach. Talons flailing, the purple dragon flew at them again, Sofia laughing on her back. With a glint of metal, Sofia threw her throwing knife.

  “Zaarusha, duck,” Ezaara screamed.

  The knife embedded itself in Zaarusha’s thigh. Her pain spiked through Ezaara.

  Sofia threw another. Zaarusha batted that knife sideways, and it spun down to the snow.

  “Oops, I slipped,” Sofia crowed. “Terribly sorry—it was an accident. That’s what you said when you gouged me.”

  Aria slashed at Zaarusha’s tail. Wings bashing Aria’s, Zaarusha darted in, ripping a gouge in her foreleg. She flipped her tail around and whipped Aria across the snout.

  Aria screeched and reeled back for a reprieve. But there was no reprieve. Riona dived and Kierion threw Roberto’s fishing net. It sailed through the air, landing over Aria. Maazini snatched a flailing rope at the end of the net and plunged under Aria and up the other side near Erob.

  Suddenly, Kierion was near Aria, balancing upon the base of Riona’s outstretched tail. He thrust a rope through the top of the net and scrambled up Riona’s tail, back into his saddle, so Riona could fly around the net, tugging the rope tight. Liesar’s silver scales, Handel’s bronze and Erob’s midnight-blue flashed past as they darted in to grab ropes and pull the net taut. Handel, Liesar, Maazini and Erob held ropes in their jaws, the net suspended between them. Aria struggled, her talons tangled. She fought to slash her way free, only making the ropes tighter. Her roars drowned out the yelling riders.