Riders of Fire Box Set

by Eileen Mueller

  “To the cage,” Lars yelled, charging past on Singlar.

  Sofia screamed, “Let me out this instant.”

  Erob melded, “Back to the race, Ezaara. Now, you have to win.”

  Zaarusha wheeled, heading across the lake. Ezaara gripped the cone so tightly, it cut into her palms. White-coated trees blurred beneath them as Zaarusha and Ezaara raced toward the basket, Lars following on Singlar. Basket at their feet, Alyssa and Derek had their bows nocked, ready to protect them.

  Ezaara melded with Lysika and Reko, showing them what had happened. “Aria and Sofia attacked us.”

  Now, there were only two dragons blocking the direct route to the basket. The others must have lagged behind, confused by Aria’s attack. A cry sounded behind her. A blur of purple was coming up fast—Kierion on Riona.

  She urged Zaarusha on.

  When Zaarusha was flush with other two dragons, Ezaara realized who they were. “Watch out, Zaarusha. That’s Alban astride Banikan and Nadira on Diran.” Ezaara’s heart sank as the riders smirked. Sofia’s cronies weren’t done causing trouble.

  When they were only a handful of dragon lengths away from the basket, Banikan and Diran closed in, hemming in Zaarusha’s wings. She roared, flames licking at Banikan. Diran flamed her back, a blast of heat passing over Ezaara. They dived, then swooped, blocking Ezaara from aiming her cone.

  Kierion and Riona passed them. They were about to win the race. Then Riona turned above the basket. Kierion gestured.

  What? Oh. Ezaara threw her cone as far as she could. It sailed through the air, hitting Riona’s hide, then clattered into the basket. Kierion’s cone thudded in after it. A cheer rose from the crowd.

  Zaarusha roared, whirling upon Banikan and Diran. The two riders innocently tossed their cones, and the dragons sped away.

  Wings flapped and riders flung their cones, then took their places at the finish line in the snow.

  By the time Tonio and Erob and their team arrived, carrying Aria and Sofia in the net, Lars was glowering. He bowed to Zaarusha, his voice carrying, “Honored Queen Zaarusha, what shall we do with Sofia and Aria?”

  Zaarusha’s snarl made the minds of every dragon at the hold flinch. “Toss them in the cage.” She roared, showing her fangs as the net-bearers approached.

  “And Alban, Banikan, Nadira and Diran?”

  “The cage as well.”

  “The cage,” announced Lars for the benefit of those without dragons to meld with. Blue guards pursued Alban and Nadira. The folk were silent as Aria and Sofia were flown away.

  Feasting

  The main cavern was swarming with people. Dragons flitted above the crowd, landing on ledges to observe the proceedings. Zaarusha thudded down on the natural rock stage that ran along one end of the cavern. The council masters and their dragons were waiting, arrayed in similar formation to the first night Ezaara had arrived here to have her imprinting bond tested by Roberto.

  “You’ve come far since then, Ezaara. Remember how terrified you were?” Zaarusha rumbled.

  “Of course I was scared. I wasn’t sure if dragons existed before I met you—and the masters looked so tough.”

  “The toughest of all was Roberto, I’ll bet.”

  “Too right. He was awful.” Her stomach churned uneasily. Anything could be happening to him.

  “Tomorrow the council will decide the best way to rescue him. Hopefully, he’s discovered what these new creatures of Zens are.” Zaarusha furled her wings.

  Or was he discovering how cruel Zens’ torture methods were? Oh shards, she was so cynical. Her nightmares were so realistic after glimpsing Death Valley, they were impairing her judgment. Ezaara slid out of the saddle.

  Lars approached, shaking Ezaara’s hand. “Well done, Ezaara. That was a fantastic display of talent.”

  “It was a measure of the queen’s skill,” Ezaara deferred.

  “And yours.” Lars turned to the crowd.

  Derek, the training master, blew the horn, and Lars waved him to the front of the stage.

  “After three moons with us, we finally declare the Queen’s Rider, Ezaara of Lush Valley, fully trained,” said Derek. “It’s been years since Zaarusha’s last rider, Anakisha, fell in battle—may her soul soar with departed dragons. You’ve seen Ezaara’s skill, her trust in the queen, both today and throughout her time with us. They have bonded exceptionally well, and she has worked hard to reach the standard expected of a Queen’s Rider. We thank her for saving Zaarusha from dragon’s bane and the traitors who tried to kill our queen.” Derek swallowed. “We owe Ezaara our allegiance.” He thumped his hand over his heart, then gestured to her. “Ezaara, please take a victory lap. Then let the feast begin. Tomorrow, all duties are canceled—except patrol.”

  Zaarusha roared. “Climb up on my neck.”

  Ezaara clambered over Zaarusha’s neck spines and straddled her neck, just below her head. Zaarusha leaped off the stage, her wings ruffling the crowd’s hair. Below, the sea of upturned faces went wild, screaming, hollering and whistling. Zaarusha spiraled up to the vaulted stone ceiling. For a moment, they hung in the air as Ezaara observed the people, as tiny as berries, below. Then the queen dived, plunging toward them. Torches guttered in their sconces when she pulled up short and landed on the stage, wings spread wide.

  Cheers and roars swept through the cavern as Ezaara dropped to the stage and gestured to Zaarusha with a flourish.

  The masters behind them clapped. It was so hollow without Roberto here. He’d trained her. He’d fostered her talent, goaded her and driven her to be better. He loved her. Ezaara clutched the teardrop, rubbing her fingers over the smooth crystal. Roberto was in such danger while they were here having a good time. Except she wasn’t. She was miserable without him.

  A gong boomed. The crowd parted to allow Benji and his kitchen staff to enter. Kierion was behind Benji, leading a team carrying a table laden with fine food. They set their table against the wall, buffet style. More teams marched in. Trust Kierion to be everywhere. Ezaara’s stomach grumbled as scents reached her—roast duck, succulent fish, spiced sweet potato. This would be a feast to remember.

  “As it should be, in your honor,” Zaarusha said.

  “Actually, it’s in your honor,” Ezaara said. “Without a queen, there’d be no Queens’ Rider.”

  Pa and Ma approached and both hugged her. “We’re so proud of you,” said Ma, eyes shining. “I know this hasn’t been easy.”

  “Well done, darling.” Pa’s gaze fastened on her necklace. “This looks so much like Anakisha’s dream catcher. A remarkable imitation. When Yanir was far away, the original enabled Anakisha to see what was happening to him in her dreams.” He turned to Ma. “That would’ve been helpful when you were in Death Valley, honey.”

  “No.” Ma shuddered. “I wouldn’t have wanted you to know what I went through.”

  Ezaara felt the color drain from her face. Anakisha’s dream catcher. Seeing through another’s eyes. It all made sense.

  “I’m glad you’re safe here.” Pa kissed Ma. “Let’s eat. Ezaara, are you coming?”

  Ezaara’s smile froze. “Um, soon.”

  As her parents descended the steps to the cavern floor, her thoughts sped like racing dragons. She’d seen Roberto being tortured in Death Valley, right before her eyes. Then she’d seen it again in her dreams. She’d assumed her nightmares had been brought on by her brief trip to Death Valley. But what if the teardrop was Anakisha’s dream catcher? What if Roberto really had been slashed by tharuk claws coated with limplock? Limplock took three days to act. Gods, in two days, he’d be dead.

  “Ezaara.” Kierion waved at her from the floor below.

  People were milling around the tables, piling their plates with food. In a corner, musicians on the gittern, flute and drums started playing. At a nearby table, Tonio was downing wine like he was dying of thirst, slamming back a glass and reaching for another.

  Roberto could be dying. Ezaara rubbed the teardrop. Or dead already. S
he had to go now. “Zaarusha—”

  “It’s dangerous on our own. The council are meeting first thing in the morning.”

  “I could speak to Tonio and Lars now.”

  “Good idea.”

  Ezaara made her way down the steps and pushed through the throng. People clapped her on the back and congratulated her.

  Kierion popped up out of nowhere, beaming. “I’ve saved you a spot with your favorite food.”

  “My favorite food?”

  “Fish and sweet potato.” Kierion blushed as red as a blood-beet.

  Oh. At her very first feast here, to honor her arrival, she’d tripped and spilled food over her clothes—fish and sweet potato. “Ah, I’m not hungry.”

  “After all those stunts? I’m starving.”

  “They turned my stomach,” Ezaara lied.

  He laughed. “You’re still welcome to sit with us.”

  “I’ve some council business. I should sit with Lars.”

  The spymaster was now in a corner, embroiled in a discussion with Ma, waving his hands around and slugging back more wine. Emotions chased across his face—joy, bitterness and anger. He folded an arm across his chest and shook his head stubbornly, then suddenly stalked away from Ma to refill his glass.

  She didn’t exactly want to approach Tonio with him in such a mood. At another table, Lars was regaling people with a tale, while they listened, spellbound. She couldn’t interrupt him either. Inside her, frustration warred with social nicety.

  “Come on, Ezaara, have some dinner. You’ll feel better,” Kierion insisted.

  “Just let me talk to my mother, and I’ll be with you in a few moments.”

  She approached Ma as she left the buffet. “Ah, Ma, do you have a moment?”

  Ma’s eyes flitted to either side of them. “Sure, I need to talk to you, too.” She placed her plate on the table next to Pa’s, and led Ezaara into a quiet corner.

  “Ma, I saw you talking to Tonio. Why was he so angry?”

  “He’s changed, Ezaara. When I first came here and trained as one of his dragon corps members, he was fiery, but not bitter. The years have done him a disservice. His heart has grown hard.”

  What was that about? “Ah …”

  “Tonio has canceled tomorrow morning’s council meeting.”

  “What?” That louse. “But we—”

  “So, I broached him about the rescue plan for Master Roberto. I’ve been to Death Valley. Every day there is a living nightmare. Tomaaz got out, but our master of mental faculties is still there …” Ma gripped Ezaara’s shoulders, her turquoise eyes burning. “I think the wine was talking, but Tonio admitted why he hasn’t acted. Roberto’s father killed Tonio’s wife.”

  Ezaara’s head reeled. “But Roberto’s not his father. His father was a mean-spirited bully who beat his littlings and broke his wife’s back. It eventually killed her.”

  “Oh gods. Amato?” Ma’s face grew pale. She clutched Ezaara’s arm. “Amato did that?”

  Ezaara nodded. Ma had known Amato? She’d had no idea.

  “And I thought I loved him …” Ma whispered to herself, a faraway look in her eyes.

  Ma had loved Amato, that awful man who’d beaten his family?

  Ma focused on Ezaara again. “So, what Tonio said is true. Do you love Roberto?”

  The clamor of the feast died away. The seconds stretched out like sand on a never-ending shore. Ezaara swallowed. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I do.”

  Ma reached into her jerkin pocket and pressed something small and hard into Ezaara’s hand. A ring. “Then go,” she said. “Go and save the man you love.” She enveloped Ezaara in her embrace. “Use Kisha’s ring again, but be careful. I don’t want to lose you.”

  §

  Adelina picked at her food. It wasn’t fair to have delicious food when her brother could be lying dead in Death Valley. Ezaara had insisted the council was going to rescue him tomorrow, but what if it was too late? And why had they waited so long? She pushed back her chair.

  “Hey, are you off so soon?” Kierion asked.

  Shards, his eyes were so sweet—that gorgeous blue that made her want to melt inside. “Just getting a drink.” Adelina made her way over to the beverage table. She was filling her cup with grape juice when she heard her father’s name. Casually, she turned her head. At the other end of the table, Tonio was gesticulating at Marlies, his voice slurred. Adelina turned away, sipping her drink and listening. Tonio mentioned her mother—and then Ezaara and Roberto.

  She’d long suspected that her brother was in love with the Queen’s Rider. No, she’d known it, but never dared discuss it with Roberto—not when the punishment for loving a trainee was banishment. Now Tonio was refusing to rescue him because Amato, her cursed shrotty father, had let tharuks capture Tonio’s new wife years ago. She didn’t blame him. She hated Amato too. But to visit that hate upon the very children Amato had beaten? And abandon her brother in Death Valley after sending him there? That was a whole new level of hatred.

  Rage burned through Adelina.

  Eyes stinging, she stalked from the table, just as Kierion reached her.

  He took her cup, depositing it nearby, and flashed her a grin. “Want to dance?” His grin faltered. “Oh, are you all right?”

  Adelina hesitated. Roberto’s love for Ezaara was not her secret to spill. “Just a little tired.”

  “The music’s good. It’ll get your feet tapping.”

  Dancing was the last thing she felt like, but Adelina let Kierion lead her past the tables to the dance area.

  “You were amazing today,” he beamed. “I was so proud of you during stunts.” Holding her hand in his, and placing his other on her waist, he whisked her around the floor in time to the music.

  He smelled of leather and candle wax, a nice combination. “Your stunts were way better than mine.”

  Kierion quirked an eyebrow. “I was showing off, but yours showed precision and restraint in the face of Nadira and Alban’s silly tactics.”

  “So, you got that?”

  “I did.” His eyes played across her face as the music changed tempo. “That’s the introduction to the farlauf. We danced this in Montanara when I was a kid, but I always got in trouble for playing pranks during dances.”

  “That’s hard to believe, Kierion.” She had to laugh.

  He grinned. “The key is to never play the same trick twice. That’s what keeps it interesting.”

  “Never the same one twice?”

  He leaned close. “Once I dropped my drink on the floor, and as I mopped it up, I tied my friend’s bootlaces together. When the music changed, he stood up to dance and fell flat on his face.” His eyes shone. “I’ve tried salt in the punch, sugar in the vegetables. Tuned the band’s instruments to be off key. I even nailed someone’s shoes to the floor, once. Another time, I put a few fish in pockets.”

  “You’re shocking. Where do you come up with all these ideas?” He was incorrigible, but, gods, so adorable.

  “Don’t let Lars see us grinning, he’ll think I’m up to something again. I haven’t played a decent prank since I hid those arrows. What with seeing Fenni and Jael, I haven’t had time.”

  Kierion’s grin was as broad as his shoulders. Adelina found herself admiring both. He swept her into the throng, his arm around her as they waltzed down the center of two lines of people.

  “Surely the other morning’s effort counts?” she asked as they moved in time.

  “Nah, that was nothing.”

  Swapping Sofia’s butter for cheese really was nothing compared to what Kierion usually got up to, but Sofia had been as mad as a dragon with an ingrown talon. “How’s tharuk hunting going?” Ezaara was talking to her mother, looking very serious, over in a corner. Was Marlies telling her what Tonio had said?

  “Good, we’re going out tomorrow and taking Tomaaz with us,” Kierion said. “Do you want to come?”

  Ezaara and Marlies left the cavern. What was the Queen’s Rider up to? Adeli
na had to know. Once, Ezaara had gone to the Wastelands to get her brother. Maybe this time they could go together. “Ah, I think I’ll rest tomorrow, like Master Derek suggested.”

  He cocked his head. “Are you sure? You’re usually so full of energy.”

  How did he do that? Make her feel special with such a simple statement. “Since I’ve knocked my head, I tire easily,” Adelina lied. Guilt flashed across his face. Oh shards, now her lie had made him feel bad.

  The music slowed. “Another dance?” Kierion asked, eyes hopeful.

  “Too much racing,” said Adelina stifling a fake yawn. “I’m done in. I’ll get a drink and go to bed.”

  “Let me walk you.” Kierion took her elbow and steered her through the crowd to the drinks table. He grinned as he passed her a glass of juice. “None of this is salted.”

  “Thanks, Kierion.” She’d love to spend time with him, but she had to see Ezaara—alone.

  He swiped a plate of pastries from the desert table and they went into the corridor.

  “Linaia, is Zaarusha about?”

  “On the infirmary ledge.”

  “Is someone hurt?”

  “No. Ezaara and Marlies are talking, and Ezaara’s packing saddlebags.”

  Shards, Ezaara was leaving now—without her.

  “Linaia,” melded Adelina, “meet me at my cavern. Kierion is proving hard to shake.”

  “The only time you haven’t enjoyed his company,” teased her cheeky dragon.

  It was true, especially since Roberto had left with Tomaaz two moons ago, for Death Valley. Two moons. Shards, he’d be a wreck by now. Or dead.

  Kierion chatted, but Adelina barely heard him. “Linaia, if we’re going to Death Valley with Ezaara, I’ll need warm clothes, healing supplies, food and water. Anything else?”

  “Not that I can think of. I’ve hunted, so I’ll be fine. I’m waiting in my den.”

  “Can you meld with Zaarusha and tell her to wait for us?”

  “I’ve tried, but I can’t connect with her.”