“So that sharding arrogant shrot-heap got the girl,” Simeon snarled. “I should’ve taken her when I had the chance.”
Bruno sniggered. “A fine thing that would be, your seed in the belly of the Queen’s Rider.” He scratched the scraggly beard that had grown since he’d been banished to the Wastelands. “Good idea, Son. Let’s arrange that. We’ll bide our time—strike when their dragons are gone. When you’ve taken your fill of the girl, she’ll make good shark fodder.”
Simeon grinned, eyes glinting with lust.
Good, that had put a bit of color into his son’s cheeks. Gods knew, they both needed something after that awful orange hell, the tragic raft trip and burying poor Fleur in a shallow grave. Someone had to pay for his wife’s death. Why not Roberto and that snivelly girl?
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Prologue
The moon slunk out from behind dark clouds, scattering a broken shaft of silver on the waves crashing against the shore. Bruno held tight to the raft carrying his son and dead wife, kicking through the cursed water to angle it toward the moonlight—although it was hardly a welcoming beacon guiding him home. He tested the depth, his boot barely scraping sand. Fangs and bleeding teeth, it was too deep to gain a foothold. And his legs were so numb it was a miracle he could even feel the ocean floor. He kicked the raft closer to land, so weak his efforts were as pathetic as a littling’s.
His foot struck the ocean floor. And again. He slid off the raft, staggered, and shoved it on the inflowing tide. But as the tide ebbed, dragging the raft out, he stumbled and it hit him, knocking him under the flimsy platform, the ocean’s claws dragging his wife and son back out to sea.
Bruno thrashed, rolled out from under the raft. He swam alongside it and clutched at his son, shaking him awake. “Simeon, help,” he croaked, throat raw and parched.
His son’s bleary eyes fluttered and closed again. Gods, no. Not so close to land, only to lose him too.
A wave crested, splashing Simeon’s face. He stirred.
Bruno shook Simeon again. “We’re here. Help.”
Simeon grunted and slid into the water. They kicked until they were waist-deep. Leaning their backs against the raft holding Fleur, they pushed until they drove the nose of the rickety raft into the sand above the tide’s reach. The front of the raft splintered. Fleur’s arm flopped onto the sand.
Bruno collapsed, panting, on the damp grit. Simeon fell down beside him. Pale foam hissed around their ankles.
They were home.
§
Bruno woke in darkness, wracked with shivers, and clambered to his feet. He helped Simeon up the beach to a clump of towering grass with long fluffy stalks. Here, Simeon would be more sheltered from the wind.
He trudged back to the raft, its end bobbing on lapping wavelets, and hoisted Fleur into his arms. Her face was pale in the moonlight, her beautiful lips now leached, and her glassy eyes empty. Bruno’s throat grew tight. Fleur had survived rust vipers, deadly scorpions and the cursed endless orange sand of the Wastelands, only to die at sea a day from Dragons’ Realm. He and Simeon had watched her slip away right before their eyes. All he’d been able to do was keep kicking toward land.
That stinkin’ Roberto and the Queen’s Rider had sealed Fleur’s fate by banishing them. He’d bide his time, get strong again, and hunt them down.
He laid Fleur in the grass next to Simeon. His son was moaning, shivering. Unless Bruno was quick, he’d be burying both members of his family. Hopefully there was a village nearby where he could find food and water. Two days ago he’d given their last precious sips to Fleur. It hadn’t been enough to save her.
“Back soon, Son.”
So dizzy he could hardly stand, Bruno grabbed a stick of driftwood, and, leaning on it, limped along the coast toward a lone twinkling light. He had to stop regularly to catch his breath.
Soon he reached a road and some isolated houses. Fishing nets drying on lines glimmered like webs in the moonlight. Boats bobbed on the waves, moored to sturdy posts by thick ropes, their furled sails as pale as Fleur’s face. How he’d love to take one of those ropes, tie it around Roberto’s scrawny neck and choke the life out of him. No, that would be much too quick. He’d make the shrotty Master of Mental Faculties suffer. Or Zens would. Bruno grimaced. That’d be an unpleasant end, tortured at the hands of the Commander. But he’d never do that. Bruno relished the job too much to let anyone else make Roberto scream as they peeled his skin off his pretty face.
The light he’d seen was a torch burning in a sconce on a large outbuilding on the outskirts of a township. It was the dead of night, and no one was around. Bruno edged toward the building. Warmth radiated from its open double doors. A giant horseshoe hung over the lintel. What luck. A smithy, with the forge still glowing.
Bruno crept inside.
He shambled over to the orange embers on the forge, holding out his numb hands. Around the forge were stacks of tools, horseshoes, and weapons in racks. At the other end of the building were a huge metal tub and several washboards. A line hung over them, strung with drying clothes. The blacksmith’s wife obviously ran a laundry from here, using the heat to speed the drying.
Bruno limped over, discarded his sodden, tattered clothing and pulled on a fresh shirt and breeches, tying the waist with a short length of rope. After nothing but desert rations and water for weeks, he was skinnier than the handle on the smithy’s bellows. He huddled by the fire for a moment, but he knew he had to hurry. Every moment he lingered could cost Simeon his life. Besides, he wanted to bury Fleur before morning—before any nosy snoops started asking difficult questions. The last thing he needed was an overzealous dragon rider shipping him and Simeon back to the Wastelands.
Bruno found an empty sack in a corner with Naobian Salt stamped on it. Was he outside the Naobian township? That’d be a stroke of luck. Naobia was the main port and largest city in the south. They could’ve run ashore near any of the tiny villages that dotted the Naobian coast. Or hit a patch of wilderness and been stranded.
He shoved a spare set of clothes, spade, knife and dagger into the sack. Then he scooped some coals into a small metal bucket, darted out of the smithy and tucked his new possessions under a hedge. He added a horse blanket from a neighbor’s fence to his stash.
A few houses closer to town, he plucked some oranges from a branch hanging over a wall and stuffed them in his pockets. His nose led him to a smokehouse, so he sneaked inside and stole a few fish and snatched a waterskin from a hook on the door. He slurped the water greedily down his raw throat until his belly was distended.
The next moment, he was retching behind a bush over someone’s low garden wall.
Inside the house, a dog barked. A candle flickered behind curtains, and a woman called, “Who’s there?”
Bruno ducked behind the wall and crawled away, nearly losing one of the oranges from his pocket. When he was out of sight, he scurried along the road and retrieved his loot. With the sack and blanket slung across his back, cradling the coal bucket against him for warmth, he hurried back to Simeon, this time, sipping cautiously from the waterskin.
It was still dark when he shook Simeon awake. They needed to be quick or someone would catch them burying Fleur.
Simeon dressed in dry clothes and drank a little water while Bruno peeled an orange and passed it to him. His son bit into it, groaning at the tang of the sweet, tart flesh. “Oh, that’s good.” Leaning back on his elbows, he took another bite. “Never thought I’d be grateful for oranges again.” His eyes were sunken and his cheeks gaunt.
Not as bad as Fleur’s. Bruno averted his eyes from her. “True.” He nodded. They’d survived the Wastelands by stumbling upon a seaside oasis. They’d eaten only dates and oranges for three days before gathering up supplies and making a raft out of palm trunks bound with fronds.
Bruno piled up some dry sticks and fluffy grass, tipped some coals onto them, and blew to spark the embers into flame.
“Wait here, Son.” He took
the spade and headed farther inland to the high bluffs that overlooked Naobia. Then he started digging a grave for his wife.
A tear slid down Bruno’s face—the first he’d cried for Fleur. Until now, he’d been too dehydrated for tears.
§
Unocco stretched his wings and took off over the basin at Dragons’ Hold. In the dim starlight, the snow-tipped fangs of Dragon’s Teeth pierced the sky above him, hemming him in. A fierce ache was building in his chest. Had been for days. Restless energy danced inside him. He wanted to soar, to fly until he dropped.
“Are you out roaming the night again?” Ajeurina mind-melded. “You can’t be hungry. You fed a few hours ago.”
Unocco glanced down at the southern caverns where Ajeurina would be huddled on the ledge. It was too dark to see her, but he could imagine her beautiful jade scales. She’d be curled in the back corner, her tail up over her haunch, leaving space for him to nestle against her, should he choose to join her.
But his aching chest wouldn’t be soothed by sleeping, even next to his mate. He soared higher and higher, climbing the side of Heaven’s Peak, his wingbeats setting snow tumbling down the mountainside.
“Watch out, you’ll start an avalanche.” She hesitated. “You’re missing Bruno, aren’t you?”
The pang in his chest grew. There it was—his pain laid bare. “Of course not,” Unocco lied. “Why would I miss a rider who implanted me with an evil crystal?” He snorted, hoping to convince Ajeurina that he didn’t care about losing his rider—that there was no aching hole inside him.
“Imprinting with another rider will help you. The pain of Fleur’s betrayal was almost too much to bear.” Ajeurina’s sorrow cascaded over him, deepening the hurt in his breast. Then she sent a new feeling, a keen excitement that quivered at the edge of his mind. “Meeting Lovina healed my heart. Please, Unocco, give another rider a chance. There are many fine candidates who need a steady, loyal dragon like you.”
Ajeurina was right. He was steady and loyal. And although Bruno had mistreated him in the last few years, Unocco had fond memories of when Bruno was younger. Sure, he’d been tough, a rebel at heart, but Unocco had tamed him, harnessed that wild energy inside him. They’d fought valiantly together. Been the closest of friends.
Even when Zens had turned them.
But surely, now that Bruno had been banished with his family to the Wastelands … surely now, he’d had a change of heart.
Unocco wheeled in midair over the top of the mountain, the scar under his wing where Zens had implanted that awful crystal twinging. Thankfully, the terrible dark shadows and whispering voices in his mind were gone. He owed Marlies for extracting that shrotty crystal.
And yes—now that his mind was his own and he could think clearly—he missed Bruno. But what if his rider were dead? Or alive but still corrupted by Zens, still fighting the queen and the realm?
Unocco had tamed Bruno’s wild tendencies before. He could do it again—if his rider still lived.
Before he gave himself to another rider, he had to know if Bruno was alive and could be saved. Unocco turned south toward the Wastelands. The savage pain in his breast eased.
Without another word to Ajeurina, he soared into the night.
§
Three days in Naobia, a few sleights of hand at the market, and some stealthy late night excursions had provided Bruno and Simeon with adequate supplies—and some luxuries. High on a bluff above the beach, Bruno lowered the far-seers and wriggled back on his belly to join Simeon. “I was right. It was them I saw yesterday,” he said. “The Queen’s Rider and Roberto are down there, dancing on the sand without a care in the world.”
“So that sharding, arrogant shrot-heap got the girl,” Simeon snarled. “I should’ve taken her when I had the chance.”
Bruno sniggered. “A fine thing that would be: your seed in the belly of the Queen’s Rider.” He scratched the scraggly beard he’d grown since he’d been banished to the Wastelands. “Good idea, Son. Let’s arrange that. We’ll bide our time, strike when their dragons are gone. When you’ve taken your fill of the girl, she’ll make good shark fodder.”
Simeon grinned, eyes glinting.
Good. That had put a bit of color into his son’s cheeks. Gods knew they both needed something after that awful orange hell, the tragic raft trip and burying poor Fleur in a shallow grave. Someone had to pay for her death. Why not Roberto and that snivelly girl?
More Riders of Fire Adventures
Ezaara—Book 1
Dragon Hero—Book 2
Dragon Rift—Book 3
Dragon Strike—Book 4
Dragon War—Book 5
Coming Soon:
Sea Dragon—Book 6
Dragon Healer—Book 7
Dragon Mage—Book 8
Riders of Fire is on Amazon & in Kindle Unlimited
Free Prequel Novelettes—Silver Dragon & Bronze Dragon
Silver Dragon
Marlies is good at healing. But she wasn’t good enough to save her friend.
Now the Nightshader gang are after her. They’re fighters—strong, fast and mean. And they know where to find her. But when Giddi, the Dragon Mage, calls Marlies deep into Great Spanglewood Forest, she finds something she never expected...
Bronze Dragon
A routine hunting trip turns into a nightmare when Hans discovers a dead dragon rider, and terrifying beasts in the forest. Then his family goes missing. He must track the dangerous beasts to find his mother and sister, but everything goes go wrong. There’s only one hope left. Dare Hans dream of the impossible?
Silver Dragon is exclusively on Eileen’s site. You’ll also get a free copy of Bronze Dragon.
EileenMuellerAuthor.com/readers-free-books/
Acknowledgements
Riders of Fire has been a long-term passion project. In my previous books, I’ve acknowledged my editors, critique partners, proof readers, cover designer, map maker, teen beta readers, weapons & combat advisor, friends and family. In this box set, I’m thanking my readers.
In the past year and a half, through email and online contact, I’ve gotten to know some of my readers. I’ve seen some of your struggles, your heartbreaks your triumphs and your great moments. I’ve experienced your generosity, kindness and support. We’ve developed a community of like-minded people who love fantasy (and dragons), and enjoy escaping to other worlds and partaking of the good things in this world.
My readers and reviewers make this writing gig amazing. I love your reviews and enthusiasm for my stories. I love your jokes, insights, and your passion for Dragons Realm, Riders of Fire and your favorite characters. Thank you for having fun with me online, for buoying my spirits when the hours are long and the task lists endless, and for your awesome energy and sense of fun.
You’ve named characters, lamented over their bad choices and rejoiced in their triumphs. You’ve laughed at the silly things Kierion does and the jokes that Erob cracks. You’ve admired Zaarusha and sympathized with Roberto, and you’ve cheered Ezaara on. Why is all of this important?
Fiction and fantasy provide a mirror for our own lives. Every week, we battle demons and shadow dragons. We take heart from companions who inject a sense of humor into our lives, and share their love with us. We rejoice in the small or large triumphs of others. And we gain courage from seeing others face challenges head on and win.
Among difficult and disturbing times, I hope my riders of fire and their loyal dragons provide you with a welcome escape and a safe place to face down fear and come out triumphant. My stories would languish without you. But with you, these adventures soar upon dragon wings.
About Eileen
Eileen Mueller is a multi-award-winning author of heart-pounding fantasy novels that will keep you turning the page. Dive into her worlds, full of magic, love, adventure and dragons! Eileen lives in New Zealand, in a cave, with four dragonets and a shape shifter, writing for young adults, children and everyone who loves adventure.
Visit
her website at www.EileenMuellerAuthor.com for Eileen’s FREE books and new releases or to become a Rider of Fire!
Please place a review
People will find my books and enjoy these adventures if you leave a review. Readers are my lifeblood, so I’d love you to pop a line or two on Amazon, Bookbub or Goodreads. Thank you.
Become a Rider of Fire
Every author needs a team on their side to help them fight tharuks, imprint with dragons, and keep the realm safe. Being a Rider of Fire gives you early copies of my books, the chance to name characters, dragons and villages, and other special glimpses into Dragons’ Realm, the world of Riders of Fire. I would be grateful for reviews, social media shares and recommendations. If you’re keen, please contact me at www.EileenMuellerAuthor.com
Herbal Lore in Dragons’ Realm
Arnica—Small yellow flower with hairy leaves. Reduces pain, swelling and inflammation. The flower and root are used in Marlies’ healing salve.
Bear’s bane—Pungent oniony numbing salve with bear leek as the primary ingredient.
Bergamot—Citrus fruit with a refreshing scent.
Clean herb—Tangy, pale green leaves with antibacterial properties.
Clear-mind—Orange berries, used to combat numlock. Stronger when dried, but effective when fresh.
Riders of Fire Box Set Page 96
