Riders of Fire Box Set

by Eileen Mueller

  Shards, he’d better get out of here before someone turned around.

  Roberto retreated across the cavern to the rock blocking the door. What had looked like a rock from the outside was only as thick as his upper arm and mounted on a metal rail. He pushed the rock, like 000 had, trying to open it. No luck. He leaned his full weight on it and shoved. It still didn’t budge.

  Zens’ voice drifted from the inner cavern.

  Flames, he had to get out of here. Cold sweat beaded his neck. He couldn’t get caught now. Scanning the wall, he found a lever and pulled. With a soft hum, the layer of rock slid open and cool air rushed in.

  Would Zens notice the change in air current? Roberto slipped out of the chamber as the door clicked shut behind him. He had to hurry before his absence was detected. Legs aching, head throbbing and his back on fire, he plodded up. Exhausted, he often stopped to lean on the wall. Finally, the tunnel intersected with the main trail through the underbelly of the mountain. He waited in the shadows, but no one was around. His shoulder blades prickling, he pushed himself, hurrying up the tunnel to the valley.

  He didn’t encounter a single tharuk or slave. It was nearly dawn. Tharuks should’ve been patrolling the valley. About now, slaves would normally be woken for a meager breakfast. This was too easy. What was going on? Was Zens letting him escape?

  He half-ran, half-stumbled across the valley, his raw ankle throbbing, his torso a mass of bruises and gashes from Zens’ games. Each step was agony. But he had to get out.

  Shards, Ezaara and Adelina. Where were they?

  As he picked his way up the burned slope, Roberto recognized the tang of mage fire and the sulphuric stench of dragon flame. What had gone on here? Had dragons saved Ezaara and his sister? He hoped so.

  Darkness flickered across his eyes and a wave of inexplicable anger roiled within him.

  Where had that come from? He shrugged, stumbling up the hill, covering himself in soot from the charred ground. He’d have to trek halfway across Dragons’ Realm to find someone to take him to Dragons’ Hold. Years ago, Erob had helped him escape, but there’d be no one here to help him now. He hadn’t even asked Ezaara if Erob was still alive.

  Oh gods, what if Erob was dead and Ezaara and Adelina too? A hollow ache gnawed inside Roberto as he climbed up the blackened mountainside.

  Dragons’ Hold

  The main cavern rippled with rumor, people arguing, pointing and whispering. Lars could taste the tension. Septimor landed on the stage in front of the council masters and their dragons, furling his wings. Seppi helped Sofia dismount amid boos, jeers and discordant cheering.

  “Creating quite a stir, isn’t she?” Lars muttered to Tonio.

  “To be expected under the circumstances,” Tonio replied, keen eyes flitting around the cavern. “I’m interested to see how this plays out.” He gave a subtle flick of his fingers, and several blue guards and dragon corps members moved among the crowd to stand near the most vocal objectors.

  Seppi blew a horn for silence, then brought Sofia before Lars.

  Lars smiled encouragingly at Sofia. He’d been pleased with her progress since Marlies had extracted the crystal. The council was keeping the crystals quiet until everyone had been checked for the silent pox—Marlies’ fabricated excuse for examining their skin. Over the past four days, the master healer had checked more than a hundred people, but there were many more. Horrified at the effect Zens’ crystal had worked on her, Sofia had been helping—under close supervision.

  This was going to be a tough session. “Good evening,” Lars addressed the restless crowd. “We’re here to discuss how Anakisha’s prophecy relates—”

  “We want justice,” someone called. “Sofia attacked the Queen’s Rider.”

  “Ezaara’s not the right Queen’s Rider,” someone else called.

  Angry yelling broke out.

  Lars raised his hand. Seppi had to blow the horn three times before the shouts died down.

  “Zens would be laughing at your bickering factions,” boomed Lars, thunder in his chest. “He’d love to see us ripping each other’s heads off. With discord in our ranks, we could never face him in unity in war. And war is coming. Zens is moving against us.”

  “That shut them all up,” Singlar melded.

  “Sofia will be tried, but not tonight. Today, our master of prophecy, Hans, will put these malicious claims that Ezaara is not our rightful Queen’s Rider to rest. Sofia will explain her views of Anakisha’s prophecy. I ask for respectful silence as each speaks. Anyone disobeying will overnight in the cage.” Lars jabbed a finger at the audience. “And I don’t care whether I have to stack you to the ceiling. The more the merrier. I will not have disunity in this meeting.”

  There were a few grumbles and a lot of nodding heads—better than he’d expected. “First Sofia, then Hans.” Lars motioned Sofia forward.

  “Thank you for the opportunity to speak,” Sofia nodded at Lars. “I apologize for my actions. I will pay for my crimes.”

  Surprised murmurs broke out.

  “Lars has asked me to recite Anakisha’s prophecy and explain why I feel it hasn’t been fulfilled.

  “One of our progeny will reign in our stead

  Filling our enemies’ foul hearts with dread

  Purging all evil will be his desire

  Vengeance he’ll wage with arrows of fire.

  “This prophecy indicates that the Queen’s Rider should not only be Anakisha’s heir, but also male. Ezaara is neither. I must confess, I’ve had a vested interest. My cousin is Anakisha’s heir. He was taken to Death Valley two years ago. I’d hoped he’d become Queen’s Rider, but …” Eyes bright with tears, Sofia swallowed. “He may not have survived. Tonight, I would like to pay tribute to Rhun of Waykeep, son of Rhun senior and Maria-Anakisha, Anakisha’s daughter. Rhun senior is my uncle by blood.”

  Near the middle of the crowd, people as a group made their way to the front. Who were they? Murmurs grew.

  Gret, Lovina and the young slave boy walked up to the stage.

  “Permission to speak, Lars,” Gret asked, clutching the boy and Lovina’s hands.

  Lars nodded. “Permission granted.”

  Gret addressed Sofia. “Taliesin says he’s your cousin.”

  Of all the sharding things. Lars’ felt his eyebrows shoot up in amazement. The lad was Sofia’s cousin? Then they were related, too, by marriage.

  Sofia flung her arms around the thin boy, tears falling on his shoulders as she hugged him. “Rhun, is that you? You’re so thin.”

  Gret spoke to the crowd. “We know him as Taliesin, but his full name is Rhun Taliesin of Waykeep.”

  People cheered.

  “Wait, there’s more,” Gret called. The cheering stilled, and silent expectation surged through the cavern.

  Lovina cleared her throat, and Gret gently nudged her toward Lars.

  “Yes, Lovina?” Lars asked the shy girl.

  “Ah, Lars, no one has ever asked me before, but Anakisha was my grandmother too. My father was Argus, Anakisha’s son. My family died in Death Valley. I survived as a slave to a tharuk spy.” She smiled sadly. “Tomaaz rescued me.”

  Taliesin piped up, “Tomaaz rescued me too.”

  Sofia bowed. “Then I owe Tomaaz’s family a debt. My apologies for besmirching Ezaara’s name.”

  “Would the rest of Anakisha’s grandchildren come to the stage?” Lars called.

  Soon eleven more people, ranging in age from teens to littlings, stood on the stage.

  “Please tell us of your connection to Anakisha.” He waved his hand at Lofty, who had a gaggle of littlings with him.

  “My ma is Ana, after her mother, Anakisha. We come from Lush Valley, and these four are my brothers and sisters.”

  “And you?” Lars questioned a blond lad.

  “The blue guards flew us here yesterday after a long journey from Western Settlement to Montanara. I’m Urs, eldest son of Anakisha’s daughter Esmeralda. My father’s Nick, the innkeeper.”
Urs rattled off the names of the five littlings with him.

  Marlies spoke up from the back of the stage, “There’s another grandchild in Last Stop, too.”

  “How many more of Anakisha’s descendants are here?” muttered Tonio. “I know of two that currently aren’t here.”

  Lars scratched his beard. He must ask Tonio who those two were.

  “Great family reunion,” a man called, voice laced with sarcasm. “But Ezaara is still not Anakisha’s progeny, or male. Why is she Queen’s Rider?”

  “Who has seen Ezaara fly Zaarusha?” Lars boomed.

  Across the cavern, a sea of hands rose like high tide.

  “And who has seen her stunts?” Down the front, Lofty whistled. Others joined in, cheering.

  “And who can do as well?”

  The cavern remained silent.

  Master Hans stepped forward. “As Ezaara’s father, I’ve been loathe to speak, but Handel insists that my daughter can remain Queen’s Rider while the prophecy is fulfilled.”

  “How do we know you’re not lying?” someone jeered.

  Handel leaped, landing on the edge of the stage, bronze scales gleaming. His roar made the air quiver. Flame shot from his jaws, scorching the vaulted ceiling. A backwash of heat licked over the crowd.

  “I guess that answers that question,” said Tonio dryly. “Any others?”

  Perhaps it was Tonio’s grim frown, or perhaps it was Handel’s rage, but there were no more responses.

  §

  “Wake up, Lars!” Lars jerked awake as Singlar mind-melded again. “Linaia’s back.”

  Lars thrust on his breeches and boots and rushed out to Singlar’s den. He tugged his jerkin around him. Shards, it was cold. A bitter wind drove flurries of snow in from the ledge, whipping his hair across his forehead.

  Linaia was huddled near the rock face under Singlar’s wing.

  Lars placed his hand on her head to mind-meld. “Linaia, I’m glad you’re home, but where is Adelina?”

  “She’s been caught,” the dragon whimpered, her blue scales fading to an icy hue. “I don’t know where Ezaara or Roberto are. The Queen’s Rider may be captive too.”

  Adelina had been foolish, going off like that, but still, worry gnawed at Lars’ mind. So young, so full of life … “Tomaaz, Kierion and two wizards are on their way to Death Valley on Riona and Maazini. Did you see them or Zaarusha?”

  “No.” Linaia’s head sank to the floor.

  “The Master of Prophecy told me they’re the best team to rescue the others. Hopefully, we’ll have them all back soon.” He removed his hand and melded with Singlar. “Take care of her. For now, there’s nothing else we can do. Their fate lies in Kierion and Tomaaz’s hands.”

  Homeward Bound

  A blur of green trees rushed at Ezaara as Maazini lowered her toward the ground. “Now, Ezaara.” He opened his talons, and she dropped, rolling as she hit the snow. Ezaara lay, staring at the drab desolate sky.

  Maazini landed, then Tomaaz rushed over. “Ezaara, are you all right?” He helped her up and hugged her, not letting her go for a long while. At last, he pulled back, asking gently, “Did you find Roberto? Is he alive?”

  She grimaced. “Alive. Hurt.” Her chest ached. She hadn’t saved him. Might have made things worse. She had no idea where Zaarusha was. And now Adelina was hurt, too. Her throat tightening with grief, hot tears slid down her cheeks.

  “We’ll come back for him, I promise,” Tomaaz said with a ferocity that surprised her. “Gods, Ezaara, I thought we’d lost you.”

  “Roberto was limplocked. I gave him the remedy, but what if Zens gives him more?”

  “We’re taking you and Adelina home first. That’s our priority.” Tomaaz’s voice was firm. “I’ll come back with a ring and get him out.”

  Riona deposited Adelina on the grass. Kierion came over, with his arm around Adelina’s shoulders, two men trailing him. “My honored Queen’s Rider, you’ve already met Fenni. This is Jael.” He gestured at the blond wizard and a Naobian—who looked so much like Roberto that her eyes pricked all over again.

  They nodded at her as Kierion continued. “Tharuks are everywhere. With three of us riding each dragon, we can’t risk them finding us. We’re only stopping here for a bite to eat, then we’ll press on to get some distance between us and Death Valley.”

  And Roberto.

  The Naobian, Jael, passed them strips of dried beef and dried apples. “As soon as the dragons have fed, we’ll be leaving.” He motioned to the bushes. “I’d recommend a quick privy stop, but stay close to avoid tharuks.”

  The snow-tipped Terramites loomed above them, their shadows reaching deep into the forest. Ezaara shivered. It was no use mentioning Anakisha’s ring. It worked for the rider wearing it and everyone their dragon was carrying, not for another dragon nearby. She couldn’t disappear to Dragons’ Hold, leaving three people on one dragon in the wilderness alone. The risk of being captured or hurt was too high. But it was four days’ flight to the hold. Even with a ring on the return trip, that was at least four days until they returned.

  Would Roberto still be alive?

  §

  When Roberto crested the peak, no one was manning the lookout towers. He couldn’t figure it out—not a single tharuk was around. Something was up, but he was too exhausted and sore to care. He slid and tumbled down the slushy hillside, leaving streaks of soot and blood in the snow. Anyone could track him.

  He pressed on. They’d be after him soon enough.

  Emptiness gnawed in his gut. Was he walking away from Ezaara or toward her? He cast his mind out, trying to meld with her or Erob. Nothing. But he wouldn’t give up.

  Late in the morning, he entered Great Spanglewood Forest. Weaving between the trees, he came to a stream, scooping up a drink. His limbs throbbed, his back ached and his body was screaming, but if he rested, he’d never get up again. So he staggered on, the day wearing into afternoon.

  One step. Another. And another …

  Shards, he had to get to … where was he going? Why was his head throbbing and his back searing?

  Left, right. Keep going. Another step. Through that puddle … over that log …

  Roberto tripped, landing in a snow drift. He groaned and tried to push himself up, but his hands sunk into the snow. He tried to roll, but his stubborn body wouldn’t budge. With one last desperate attempt, he sent out a mental cry for help before he collapsed.

  §

  Marlies poured Tonio a cup of tea. This would be tricky, but she had to try.

  “Thank you, Marlies.” Tonio eyed the brew warily.

  “It’s just soppleberry, nothing sinister.” Marlies chuckled. “Come on, Tonio, I’m not about to poison my old spymaster.”

  He sniffed it, then took a sip. “Tasty, thank you.” He flashed a wan smile—a tatty remnant of their former friendship—and had another sip. “What did you want to see me about?”

  Marlies took a deep breath. “I don’t think anyone else has the courage to tell you, so I will. You’ve changed, Tonio, and it’s not for the better.”

  He bristled. “It’s my job to be mistrustful. Whoever heard of a trusting, gullible spymaster?” Tonio snorted. “Huh!”

  “That’s always been your job, Tonio,” she said gently. “Even when I knew you before. Remember how we checked every fact and rumor, and hunted down treachery? There wasn’t a truth we didn’t examine. Or a lie. Remember that Naobian merchant?”

  “The one we caught smuggling dragonets?”

  Marlies smiled. “That was a tricky situation, but we handled it impeccably.”

  Now, Tonio’s grin was genuine. “You were brilliant. I never even knew you could play the gittern until that moment.”

  “And I didn’t know you could juggle. Although I still think we should’ve left the merchant his gold.”

  “He wasn’t much the poorer for losing that purse. Besides, that was justice for him trading in dragons.”

  “Yes,” said Marlies. “You al
ways were one for justice, weren’t you?”

  Tonio’s brow drew into a thunderous scowl. “So that’s what this is about,” he snapped. “You want me to be lenient on Roberto for your daughter’s sake.” He stood, shoving his chair back.

  “No, Tonio, that’s not it.” Marlies sipped, locking her eyes on his.

  “Then what?” Tonio perched on the edge of his chair. “Don’t fool with me, Marlies. I’m too shrewd for that.”

  He was. “No, this is about you, Tonio. You’ve become a bitter man, chasing vendettas. When I knew you, you were tough, ruthless when getting a job done, but you were fair.”

  “When my wife, Rosita—”

  “She was already dead when I met you, so that’s no excuse.” Marlies cradled her tea in both hands, leaning over the table. “What happened, Tonio?” she asked softly.

  His face crumpled. “You did,” he whispered hoarsely.

  She gasped, gut-smacked. “Me?”

  “Yes, you.” He tapped his nails on the table in woodpecker staccato. “Murdering that dragonet and forsaking us all. My best spy, my closest friend, gone.”

  Was that moisture glinting in his eyes? She’d missed them all, of course, but she’d had no choice. “I couldn’t really come back to say hello.”

  “Why did you kill that dragonet?”

  “I didn’t,” Marlies whispered—once again, seeing the fragile purple dragonet writhing in its translucent golden shell. “He gave his life to bless me with fertility. That’s how I had the twins. For years, I felt guilty, until Maazini told me that the dragonet had seen a vision that I would give birth to an heir who would be Queen’s Rider. He sensed I wasn’t fertile and wanted to help.”

  Tonio’s eyes flew wide, shock rippling over his face. “So, you didn’t murder one of the last royal dragonets?”

  “I thought I had, so I fled.”

  “I searched for you for years, attending every incident further afield than Montanara.” Elbows on the table, Tonio put his head in his hands. “I’d sealed my heart after my Rosita’s death, but I trusted you. My only friend. And you betrayed me, sabotaging the realm and slaughtering the Queen’s royal progeny.”