Dragon Rift: Riders of Fire, Book Three - A Dragons’ Realm Novel

by Eileen Mueller

  “Could you bring me some piaua, clean herb and cloths?” Slumping into a seat, Ma wiped her forehead. “The bone’s fixed now, but his muscles and connective tissue have taken a hammering. We must staunch the bleeding.”

  Ezaara gestured at his mangled flesh. “At least the blood has washed the pus away.” She passed Ma clean herb and placed her fingers on Tomaaz’s throat. “His heartbeat’s weakening. His sathir is fading.” Ezaara’s own heart lurched. Even though Ma had fixed his hip, he could still die from shock and blood loss.

  “Quick,” Ma said. “The piaua, before he loses more blood.”

  They treated the wound with piaua juice, layer by layer, the flesh healing before their eyes. Tomaaz’s breaths were shallow and rapid.

  “I thought I knew a lot of healing remedies, but I’ve never seen anything like that new bone,” Ezaara said.

  “The piaua will help his nerves to regenerate,” Ma explained.

  Ezaara bit her lip.

  “What is it?” Ma asked, setting the piaua vial aside.

  “Will he be able to walk again?”

  Ma shrugged. “We’ll have to see.” Ma stitched the hip wound shut, sealing it with piaua.

  Ezaara parted Tomaaz’s hair and applied a few drops of piaua to his head wound.

  Ma snipped the stitches on his hip, tugging them free, then checked his pulse. “His heartbeat is stronger, but still rapid. We’ll need to keep him warm. Hopefully the shock isn’t too much for him.” Ezaara covered Tomaaz with some blankets.

  “He’s not out of the woods yet, is he?”

  Ma shook her head. “No, he’s not, but there’s nothing more we can do.” She sank into a chair and patted the seat next to her. Ma’s arms and hands were splattered in blood. Ezaara fetched her a bowl of water, asking Zaarusha to warm it. They cleaned up their hands, the area and the wound site.

  “What now?” Ezaara asked.

  “We wait until he revives and see whether it’s worked. In the best case, he’ll walk with discomfort. In the worst …” Ma sighed, patting Ezaara’s hand. “I’ll sit with him. Why don’t you take a breather?”

  Ezaara walked outside through Zaarusha’s den, where the dragons were sleeping.

  Zaarusha opened an eye as she passed. “Maazini’s not injured, just exhausted.”

  “Any word of Erob?”

  “Not yet. Maazini was too tired to make much sense.” The queen’s eye drifted shut.

  The cool air out on the ledge dried the sweat on Ezaara’s brow, making it stiff with salt. She leaned against the stone wall, her hands clenching the fabric of her jerkin. Where were Erob and Roberto?

  She shuddered as her nightmares replayed in her mind: Commander Zens torturing Roberto. Screaming, his handsome features were twisted into a mask of pain, his olive skin crusted with blood.

  No. It was just a nightmare. She’d find out the truth when Tomaaz or Maazini woke.

  Roberto would be fine. He was resourceful, clever. He’d survived being captured by Zens before. Him and Erob might be flying home now, just hours behind Maazini.

  Ezaara sank to the snowy ledge, not caring about the chill.

  Soon, the first rays of dawn hit the peaks of Dragon’s Teeth—the ring of mountains surrounding the basin of Dragons’ Hold—setting them on fire. Ezaara scanned the skies. No dragons.

  Roberto’s face flashed to mind, his ebony eyes tender as he’d kissed her, vowing to return. No one knew they were promised to each other. No one must know. As master of mental faculties and imprinting, he was forbidden to love his trainee. Not that she’d be his trainee for much longer—she was nearly qualified.

  She touched the crystal teardrop at her neck. A memory cascaded through her mind: Roberto nearly plunging to his death when he and Erob had fought Ajeuria.

  Her gaze swept the empty snow-covered basin.

  What if Roberto didn’t come back? A chill climbed Ezaara’s spine. What if he was already dead?

  Footfalls echoed behind her. Ma was approaching. Ezaara’s backside was freezing. How long had she been sitting, lost in her thoughts?

  “Tomaaz is stirring,” Ma said.

  Ezaara nodded and followed Ma into her cavern. The scent of clear-mind infusion hung in the air. Ma must have steeped the berries to wake her brother. Pa was sitting by her bed, his brow furrowed, watching her brother.

  Head tossing, Tomaaz was moaning and muttering in his sleep.

  Ezaara patted his hand. “Tomaaz, it’s all right. You’re safe at Dragons’ Hold. It’s me, Ezaara.”

  His eyelids fluttered, then flew open. “Ezaara, I’ve failed,” he rasped. “Commander Zens has captured Roberto.”

  War Council

  “Ezaara, did you hear me?” Tomaaz asked, grasping her hand. “Roberto’s been captured by Commander Zens.”

  Ezaara was lost for words. Her mind spun. Roberto was captive. Surely Zens would kill him.

  “What happened, Tomaaz?” Pa asked.

  “We were leaving Death Valley when tharuks attacked us. They forced Erob to the ground and dragged Roberto away. Maazini flamed tharuks and I shot some, but they drove us back with limplocked arrows.”

  “When?” Pa asked.

  “Five days ago.” Tomaaz looked at Ezaara. “Roberto had a message for you: something about his mother saying, teardrops amplify thoughts. Erob told Maazini to tell the Queen’s Rider.”

  What did that mean?

  Probably that she should hide her sorrow so no one knew how she felt. Ezaara resisted the urge to clutch her necklace. No one must know it was from Roberto.

  “Make any sense?” Ma asked.

  Ezaara shook her head. She didn’t dare tell anyone.

  “Um, Ezaara, do you mind letting go of my fingers?” Tomaaz asked. “You’re crushing them.”

  She glanced down—she had his hand in a death grip. “Sorry,” she said, releasing his fingers. “I’m so relieved you’re home. We need to sort out how to retrieve Roberto, but first, how’s your hip?”

  How was she sounding so normal, so in control? Ezaara wanted to scream, rage, and pound the stone walls with her fists. Zens had nearly broken Roberto last time. She shuddered, remembering the awful memories he’d shared when they were in Naobia. Shocking, violent memories that had taken weeks for her to push to the back of her mind. And now Roberto was in that monster’s hands again. Ezaara clutched the crystal teardrop at her neck.

  “Let’s see if you can stand. Hans, give him a hand,” Ma said. “Now, Tomaaz, flex your leg like this …”

  As Ma tested Tomaaz’s reflexes, Ezaara went to the other side of her cavern to get changed. “Zaarusha, notify the dragons that I’m calling an urgent council meeting.” She couldn’t turn up in her nightdress and jerkin. She dressed mechanically, fastening her healer’s pouch at her waist. Instead of tugging her boots back on, she selected the shoes Roberto had given her for their race. Light and supple, they were hand-painted with a likeness of Zaarusha soaring over a lake, her colorful scales reflected in the water.

  “Everyone’s been roused and is on their way, except Tonio, who will be a little late.”

  So, the spymaster was off on business again. Ezaara was almost relieved. Tonio wasn’t exactly her favorite dragon master.

  Ma had Tomaaz on his feet. He was still a little unsteady.

  He needed a cane. Ezaara’s hand automatically fastened around the walking stick leaning against her wardrobe. Roberto had carved it for her when she’d twisted her ankle. Her throat grew tight. Even when she’d mistrusted him, he’d been caring. She held the beautiful handle, carved with herself upon Zaarusha, and offered it to Tomaaz. “Would this be helpful?”

  Tomaaz took the cane. “Thanks, Ezaara.”

  Ma nodded at Tomaaz. “Your range of motion is pretty good, and the wound has healed well, but it’ll feel odd while your muscles adjust to the new joint. Do you have any pain?”

  Tomaaz screwed up his nose. “No pain, but it does feel weak, as if it might give out. The walking stick will be
great.”

  “I know you haven’t slept much, Tomaaz, but we’ve called a war council,” Ezaara said. “They’ll need to hear your report. Are you up to attending?”

  “I haven’t had a chance to see Lovina or the boy yet. How have they been?”

  “Both thriving,” Ma answered. “They’ll keep another hour or so. They’re probably fast asleep anyhow. You should attend the council first.”

  “Of course he should,” Ezaara snapped. “We need to know what’s happened.” Oh shards, she sounded ratty. She had to do something or she’d crack.

  Tomaaz gave her a long look, then nodded. “I’ll come.”

  “I’ll bring him. Maazini is exhausted.”

  “Zaarusha says she’ll take you,” Ezaara said, striding to the door. “I’m walking. I have an urgent errand on the way.” She went into the corridor and closed the door.

  “Ezaara?” Zaarusha asked.

  “I can’t stand it, Zaarusha. I have to do something or I’ll go mad.”

  Ezaara started running, feet pounding the stone. She ran away from the council chamber, toward the main cavern, then took the left corridor down to the storerooms. A slow burn built in her muscles. She reached down deep, seeking sathir. The air shimmered with a thin ribbon of multi-colored light. That was her connection to Zaarusha. She strained to feel the deep blue of Erob and Roberto. Nothing. She wanted to scream, but didn’t dare, so instead, she exhaled forcefully, sucking in great gulps of air. Fire leapt into her veins—she was harnessing her dragon’s power. She sped through the dark subterranean tunnels.

  “Run like the wind,” Zaarusha mind-melded. “Tomaaz and I have just arrived, but not everyone’s here yet. You have a few moments to purge your sorrow before you face the council.”

  “Thank the dragon gods, you understand.”

  Comfort washed over Ezaara, but she shrugged it off. Pushing her muscles until they seared, she ran past the door to the dungeons. At last, she came to a staircase winding up to the rear exit of the council chamber—the exit the guards had manhandled Roberto out of when he’d been banished. Ezaara raced up the stairs until her head spun and her legs trembled. A few steps from the top, she mind-melded, “Zaarusha, is everyone there yet?”

  “Two more to come: Jerrick, and Tonio—who’ll be late.”

  Ezaara sat on a step and leaned back against the wall, taking slow deep breaths. Nothing had changed. Roberto was still Zens’ prisoner. But at least she no longer felt like screaming or punching something. She stood, smoothed her jerkin and opened the door to the council chamber.

  Lars, leader of the council, gave her a quizzical look as she entered and took her seat beside him at the arch of the horseshoe-shaped granite table. Near the wall behind the table, the dragons crouched, scales gleaming in the torchlight. There were no natural windows in this chamber.

  “You’re looking much more settled,” Zaarusha melded.

  “If only I felt it.”

  Seven people were at the table, including Lars. Five seats were still empty. Two masters—Shari and Jaevin—had recently been murdered. Tonio’s seat remained vacant, and Jerrick, the master archer, wasn’t here yet. The last empty spot was Roberto’s, which made Ezaara swallow, but she quashed her feelings. Now was not the time for emotion, only for action.

  Tomaaz was in a chair, leaning against the wall, his chin on his chest, dozing. He’d grown thinner in Death Valley again, his cheeks gaunt and eyes ringed with exhaustion. Ma and Pa, recently restored as masters, kept glancing at him and murmuring to each other.

  The huge double doors flew open and Master Jerrick entered, folding his gangly frame into his chair. “My apologies for being delayed. There’s been an uproar among the archers.”

  “An uproar?” Lars asked.

  “Yes, I’ll need to get back and sort it out. I hope we won’t be too long.”

  Lars rapped his gavel on the table.

  Tomaaz twitched and woke, his gaze meeting Ezaara’s. He stretched his leg, testing his hip.

  “I declare our council meeting open,” Lars said. “I call upon our Queen’s Rider to speak, as it was she who summoned us.”

  All heads swiveled to Ezaara.

  For a moment she felt that old feeling of inadequacy she’d had when she’d first arrived at Dragons’ Hold. But, no, she was the Queen’s Rider. She’d earned her dues—fighting tharuks, rescuing Roberto from the Wastelands, and saving Zaarusha from traitors’ poison.

  She stood and met each master’s gaze. Pa’s eyes were warm and encouraging. Ma’s were grave. Ma knew what they were here for, and the horrors of Death Valley.

  Even though Roberto was in danger, there was still hope for him yet—Ma had confronted Zens and made it back. “Esteemed council members, I apologize for calling a meeting so early in the morning. As you can see, my brother has returned from Death Valley. However—”

  The exit door behind her clicked shut and Tonio slid into his seat. “Apologies, my Queen’s Rider.” He gave her a curt nod, then his eyes flitted around the room, taking everyone in.

  Ezaara continued, “However, Master Roberto has been captured by Commander Zens. We believe he is being held captive. We need to determine how to free him.”

  Murmurs rippled around the table.

  “I call upon my brother, Tomaaz, to report.” Ezaara sat.

  Lars gestured at the spymaster. “Master Tonio, as Tomaaz was on your assignment, perhaps it’s best if you question him.”

  Tonio rose. Pacing to the front of the table with panther-like grace, he gestured Tomaaz to stand.

  Leaving Ezaara’s cane against the wall, Tomaaz walked to the front of the council table with a slightly uneven gait.

  With the tiniest twitch of his brow, Tonio glanced at Tomaaz’s leg. “Before we discuss Roberto’s capture, perhaps we can see what you gleaned during your time in Death Valley. Did you manage to infiltrate Zens’ slave camp?”

  “Yes, Roberto and I entered Death Valley separately. We met up every few days to compare our findings. But you need to understand, because the slaves have numlock in their water, they’re incapable of coherent speech or thought. So, there’s no gossip. I couldn’t quiz anyone about what they’d seen or heard. They’re like blind, mindless sheep.”

  Tonio nodded. “Did Roberto find out anything about these new monsters?”

  “Roberto got into a mining crew and went deep into the hillside to dig up yellow crystals.”

  “Yellow crystals?” Lars asked. “Zens paid Bruno in yellow crystals. Roberto told me they were dangerous. Did he tell you anything about them?”

  Ezaara tapped her forefinger on the granite table.

  That’s right. During the traitors’ trial—when Bruno and Fleur and their son Simeon had been banished for poisoning Queen Zaarusha—a sack of Zens’ yellow crystals had been found among Bruno’s possessions.

  Tomaaz shook his head. “I have no idea what they’re for.”

  Tonio resumed his questions. “How was Roberto caught?”

  Ezaara gripped the table.

  “Roberto said he’d found important information and wanted to get back to Dragons’ Hold,” Tomaaz replied, his voice hollow. “We sneaked out of Death Valley to meet our dragons, but tharuks ambushed us, firing arrows at Maazini and Erob. A tharuk pierced Erob’s belly with an arrow with a rope attached to it. The beast yanked on the rope, tearing Erob’s skin and forcing him to land. Maazini flamed some tharuks, but they were shooting limplocked arrows at us, so we had to retreat or I could’ve lost my dragon, too.

  “After dark, I slunk back to find Roberto. As I was descending the hill into Death Valley, tharuks launched a pile of boulders at me. I had no chance. My hip was crushed. Tharuks rushed to finish me off, but Maazini …” Tomaaz’s swallow was audible in the quiet chamber. “Maazini swooped down to grab me in his talons.” Tomaaz’s leg faltered.

  Ma and Pa leaped up to bring him a chair, and Pa helped Tomaaz into it. “Maazini landed near Erob, and I managed to drag myself up into
the saddle so we could fly home.”

  “So, neither of you found out anything about Zens’ new creatures?”

  Was that contempt in Tonio’s voice? Ezaara bristled.

  “Roberto may have found out something, but he didn’t have a chance to tell me.”

  “Was there anything that seemed contrived about his capture?”

  Silence struck the cavern.

  Tomaaz stared at Tonio. “Are you implying that Roberto wanted to be caught by Zens?”

  “Please answer my question.”

  “With all due respect, Master Tonio, are you mad? Who in their right mind would let tharuks rip their dragon’s belly open, injuring their best friend? And who would want to help Zens?”

  “We’ve just had traitors do exactly that, Tomaaz,” Tonio replied sternly. “Before you arrived here, Bruno and Fleur, masters on this council, maltreated Ajeuria, our dragon queen’s daughter. They were influenced by Zens. And they tried to poison Queen Zaarusha. We don’t yet know if they’ve influenced Unocco, Bruno’s dragon, but I suspect they must’ve or they wouldn’t have gotten away with everything for so long. Now, answer my question: did Roberto appear to be complicit in his own capture?”

  White-knuckled, Ezaara’s grip on the tabletop tightened, the granite biting her palms.

  “Of course not,” Tomaaz yelled, leaping to his feet. He gasped, clutching at his hip, and fell back into his chair.

  Ma rushed over. “Are you all right?”

  Tomaaz waved her off. “Just a twinge.”

  Ma stalked over to Tonio. “My son came home last night with his hip joint shattered. It was touch and go, but we managed to heal him. I’ve recently been in Death Valley. Zens threw me around the room with the power of his mind. I nearly died.”

  “Why would anyone willingly go to that monster?” asked Pa, shaking his head.

  Tonio bristled. “Not willingly, Hans, but under coercion. Zens weaves some sort of magic over people. He turns them. Roberto has been his protégé before. It could happen again.”

  Ezaara felt nauseous. She’d seen Zens’ cruelty through Roberto’s memories. “This has gone far enough,” she said, snatching Lars’ gavel and smacking it on the table. “I called this meeting to make rescue plans for Roberto and Erob, not to hold a trial for a crime a master hasn’t committed. The Egg knows we’ve had enough of those lately.” She shot Tonio a venomous look. He’d been instrumental in having Roberto unjustly banished to the Wastelands.