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

by Eileen Mueller

“We both know it wasn’t Ezaara’s fault. Anyway, I think we should talk to Lars. It’s getting serious. There are rumors that Alban’s threatening girls who won’t side with Sofia against Ezaara.”

  “We’ll need evidence.”

  “I know. I’ll keep an eye out.” Gret stood. “Are you sure you don’t want company?”

  “Thanks for the offer.” Adelina preferred being alone. It was easier to carry her grief without someone watching. She had too many hurts in her past to lump them all on a friend. Too many secrets. That why Roberto had given her a cavern of her own next to his when he’d become master of mental faculties and imprinting. She gasped. “Usually it would be Roberto’s job to test each imprinting bond ….”

  “But he’s not here,” Gret said. “Don’t worry, Lars and the council will rescue him soon. And just think, tomorrow you may be a dragon rider.” Gret smiled.

  “Thanks.” As Gret left, Adelina faked one last smile for her friend. That was why she needed Roberto. Her brother got her, because he was hiding the same dark family secrets.

  §

  Gret was nearly at the girls’ cavern when Sofia and Alban stepped out of the shadows.

  “Visiting Adelina, were you?” Sofia sneered, her teeth glinting in the torchlight. Behind Sofia, Alban was a wall of muscle, oozing menace.

  “None of your business.” Gret’s hand hovered near her sword hilt. She was an ace with a sword and everyone here at Dragons’ Hold knew it. That’s what came of being the Montanarian swordmaster’s daughter.

  “I’m surprised you’d hang out with the sister of a traitor,” Alban said, his hand sliding to his knife hilt.

  “Really, Alban? A knife against a sword? You’ve got to be joking,” Gret said scornfully. “And I didn’t pick you to be so stupid. Master Roberto was declared innocent. Fleur, Bruno and Simon were banished as traitors, remember?”

  “Everyone knows Roberto mind-tricked the council into letting him back.”

  Gret laughed and pushed her way past them. Her back crawled. She had the urge to spin and parry, just in case. But she didn’t. Pa had taught her never to show a weakness.

  “Gret,” Sofia called.

  Gret turned.

  “We were just kidding.” Sofia licked her lips, eyes darting. “Joking around. You know, like one of Kierion’s pranks.”

  “No,” said Gret, “not like Kierion’s pranks at all—they’re funny.”

  §

  Tomaaz woke late. A candle burned in the sconce and the slave boy was fast asleep in the bed across from him—peacefully. Shards, he’d slept all day. How was Maazini? What about Lovina? He’d barely spoken a few sentences with her since he’d returned from Death Valley.

  He threw back the covers, pulled his riders’ garb on and went into the infirmary. Pa was sitting, reading by torchlight. A couple of men were sleeping in the beds lining the walls.

  “Good morning, Son,” Pa quipped. “Nothing like greeting the dawn.”

  Tomaaz snorted. “Or the sunset, in my case. How’s Maazini?”

  “Still sleeping. He and Erob have dozed most of the day.”

  “Like dragon, like rider,” Tomaaz replied, striding past the beds to the door. He took a torch from a sconce by the door and went over to Maazini and Erob, curled together for warmth under the protective overhang. Huffing out clouds of breath, Tomaaz held the torch high and walked around the dragons, looking them over. Their scales were resuming their healthy vibrancy. Another day or two and they’d be well enough to fly. He didn’t meld with Maazini. After everything they’d been through, sleep was the best thing for both dragons.

  Stomach rumbling, Tomaaz wandered to the edge of the ledge. There were dragon prints in the snow and small boot prints—Lovina’s. She must’ve come out here for peace. Ma had mentioned that the infirmary ledge was one Lovina’s favorite spots. By the Egg, he was hungry. Not surprising after his time in Death Valley. Perhaps Lovina was in the mess cavern.

  An hour later, Tomaaz was back on the ledge with a surprise for Lovina in his pocket. No one had seen her all day. He lifted the torch and examined her boot prints. It was possible she’d been taken somewhere by dragon. Shrugging, Tomaaz grabbed a spare blanket from the infirmary and settled on it, leaning against Maazini’s hide.

  Tomaaz awoke to a thump and a spray of snow on his face.

  Lovina was clinging to the back of a green dragon, eyes bright in the torchlight with a grin as wide as Dragons’ Realm. He raced over. The tips of her long hair were tinged white with frost. Her lips were wind-chapped, and her cheeks and nose were pink from the cold, but it wasn’t her coloring that looked so different.

  Lovina was beaming. Radiant with joy. He’d seen her first shy smiles, heard her hesitant laugh, but it was nothing like the musical burst of laughter that burst forth from her now.

  “Tomaaz, meet Ajeurina.”

  Ajeurina? Didn’t she mean Ajeuria?

  Maazini lifted his head. “No, Tomaaz, my sister imprinted with Lovina, so she’s modified her name.” He burrowed back down against Erob and promptly fell back to sleep.

  Tomaaz caught Lovina as she slid off Ajeuria’s—no, Ajeurina’s—side.

  She flung her arms around him, burrowing her freezing cheek against his neck. “Tomaaz, I never thought I’d become a dragon rider.” She looked up at him, eyes bright.

  He pulled the heart-shaped pastry wrapped in waxed cloth from his pocket.

  “Thank you.” Lovina traced the pastry heart with her finger. “And I never thought I’d love such a thoughtful man.”

  Love? Tomaaz’s heart soared.

  Return

  “Zaarusha is missing?” Lars asked Tonio. “Why didn’t someone tell me earlier?” They were on the ledge outside Lars’ cavern, grabbing some fresh air.

  The spymaster shrugged. “I’m just reporting what I know.”

  Lars snorted. “Come on, Tonio, what do you think’s going on?”

  “Well, no one’s seen Ezaara either …” Tonio pursed his lips, leaving his words hanging in the chill evening air. The spymaster paced, his boots crunching in the snow. Icicles hung down the sides of the overhang, reflecting the flickering torchlight. Beyond, snug in the shadows, Singlar was sleeping, his tail wrapped around his huge body. “They could be running an errand. Or …” Tonio splayed his hands.

  Lars knew where this was leading. Tonio’s dragon, Antonika, had seen Roberto kissing Ezaara in the orchard. He shook his head. “No, even Ezaara is not fool enough to dash off to Death Valley on her own. Besides, Queen Zaarusha is more seasoned than that.”

  “She was fool enough to go to the Wastelands and rescue Roberto,” Tonio said. “Why not Death Valley? I’m telling you, Lars, that man has been having an affair with his student—our new Queen’s Rider. His punishment should be banishment. Death Valley’s as good a place as any.” He snapped an icicle. The glittering shard in his hand, Tonio stalked off.

  Lars gazed over the basin. Surely Roberto wasn’t stupid enough to be romantically involved with his trainee? But then again, Tonio had insisted that Antonika share her memory with Lars. When she’d shown him Roberto kissing Ezaara, it definitely hadn’t been a perfunctory kiss. But could he blame them? Roberto had been to hell and back, even had his gut slit in the desert to protect Ezaara from wrongful banishment. Then they’d returned just in time to save Zaarusha from being murdered. No wonder the queen’s loyalty overrode her duty to the council.

  He wanted to give Roberto a chance. His rotten father had corrupted the boy, but he’d pulled through and become an irreplaceable asset. No one had his mental talents. It was scary, how he could manipulate people’s minds to find out what he needed.

  What terrible price had he paid for his formidable skills learned at Zens’ hands? He never discussed his time in Death Valley, except to say that Erob had freed him. But, when he’d first arrived and been rejected by the council, Lars had heard him screaming in the night, tortured by his demons—demons that could destroy Dragons’ Realm if that talen
t was used by Zens.

  An affair with the Queen’s Rider …?

  Hmm. Maybe Tonio was right: the law was the law. No master was allowed to have an affair with his student. Look where that had gotten Dragon Mage Giddi. His student, Mazyka, had nearly destroyed Dragons’ Realm.

  He shook his head again, this time sadly. Despite his sympathies, as the council leader, he had to be firm.

  There was a loud crack. A dark shape appeared in the sky, blotting out the stars.

  §

  Ezaara and Zaarusha appeared above Dragons’ Hold. “Shards, Zaarusha, I never meant to be gone an entire day.”

  “Me neither. Not much we can do about that now.”

  “Agreed. We need to see Lars.”

  “He’s seen us already,” Zaarusha rumbled in Ezaara’s mind. “That’s his cavern.”

  A figure stood on a ledge below, limned in torchlight. Ezaara rubbed her cold hands. “Let’s pay him a visit.”

  “After that, you should eat,” Zaarusha replied.

  Ezaara’s belly rumbled, but food was the last thing she felt like with her fresh memory of Roberto, battered and bloody. She mind-melded with Singlar, who was curled up on the ledge. “Please let Lars know that Queen Zaarusha and I would like to visit.”

  “He’s already expecting you,” was Singlar’s reply.

  Zaarusha swooped through the cold night air to land neatly on Lars’ ledge.

  “Greetings, Ezaara,” Lars said. “We’ve missed you today.”

  Ezaara dismounted and shook Lars’ hand. The council leader’s eyes were as cold as the icicles behind him.

  “You’re freezing,” said Lars. “Let’s discuss your recent whereabouts inside. With war looming, the last thing we need is our Queen’s Rider getting ill.”

  Was that concern or a reprimand? Either way, Ezaara didn’t like Lars’ tone. She wasn’t only our Queen’s Rider—the council’s property, to do with as they saw fit. She was Ezaara of Lush Valley, Zaarusha’s rider. She had a say in her life. If they hadn’t learned that after wrongly trying to banish her and getting Roberto nearly killed in the Robandi desert, then they had a thing or two to learn. “Thank you, Master Lars,” she said demurely. “That would be nice.”

  Zaarusha chuckled. “I see you can manage him on your own. I’m going hunting. I’ll be nearby if you need me.”

  A fire blazed in Lars’ hearth, the smoke funneling up a natural chimney in the rock ceiling. Ezaara took off her gloves and held her numb hands out, sitting in an overstuffed chair near the fire.

  Lars sat in the chair opposite her.

  “Come, Ezaara, you’re positively blue,” Lydia said, bustling over with a warm cup of herb tea and a plate laden with cookies. The scent of cinnamon wafted over them. Ezaara’s mouth watered. She loved the winter delicacies, made with ground almonds and egg whites.

  “Would you like one, Ezaara?” asked Lars.

  He was playing the congenial host. Would he be that congenial when he found out where she’d just been? Ezaara was about to pick up a cookie but changed her mind. She wasn’t a littling, to be plied with treats then told what to do. “Maybe later. Business first.” She leaned back, crossing her long legs. “Do you know where I’ve been?”

  Lars replied, “Please, tell me.”

  “Death Valley, to see Master Roberto.”

  “I thought so,” Lars replied.

  So, it wasn’t a surprise. She’d thought she’d been so stealthy.

  He leaned forward. “You didn’t actually see him, of course, you’re just speaking figuratively.”

  The memory played out in her mind again: Roberto, bloodied and torn, chains clanking. Ezaara swallowed. “Yes, I saw him.” Shards, her voice was husky. She mustn’t give away her emotions or Roberto could be banished all over again.

  Lars’ eyebrows shot up in surprise and he choked on his cinnamon star, taking a gulp of tea to wash it down.

  She put steel into her voice. “He’s being tortured. Zens has him in chains and is probably beating him again as we sit here, having tea and cookies.” She was doubly glad she hadn’t eaten one.

  Still coughing, he asked, “How did you slip in?”

  “The same way Tomaaz and Roberto got in last time.” Ezaara carefully placed her tea on the table. “Now that I know where he is, he’ll be easy to rescue. With two or three dragons and a few riders, we’d be in and out in no time.” She had no idea how to get into Roberto’s prison—a minor detail.

  Lars took a long draught of tea, eyes regarding her over the rim.

  There was a sharp rap at the door, and Lydia admitted Tonio. He barreled into the room. “Lars, Zaarusha is back. I suspect Ezaara was in Death Valley. None of her family know—” His words dried up. A mask of superficial cordiality snapped over his face. “Good evening, my honored Queen’s Rider.”

  “Good evening, Tonio.” Ezaara nodded, deliberately dropping off his title. “Yes, I have been to Death Valley.”

  “And?” The spymaster’s gaze was genuinely curious.

  “And we need to rescue Master Roberto before Zens kills him.”

  “You’re assuming a lot, Ezaara.” Tonio’s voice was silky, laced with steel.

  “You sent Roberto to Death Valley.”

  “He agreed to go.”

  “He’s a valuable member of our council,” Ezaara snapped. “We need him back.”

  “Valuable?” Tonio asked softly, eyes glittering. “To whom?”

  Chills raced down her spine. He knew. Antonika had told him. Ezaara turned to Lars. “Lars, I may have come here as an ignorant girl from Lush Valley, but I’m now the Queen’s Rider.”

  “And I’m the leader of the council,” he replied, mettle in his blue gaze. “May I remind you that your training as Queen’s Rider will only be complete after the dragon races.”

  Ezaara stalked back outside to the snow.

  §

  Lars met Tonio’s gaze. “If she leaves for Death Valley again, she could jeopardize Queen Zaarusha’s life. I want eyes and ears on her at all times. Ensure she stays at the hold.”

  Tonio’s dark eyes flashed. “Yes, Master Lars. I’ll see to it.” His boots clicked on stone and he shut the door.

  Lars dropped his head in his hands. He’d expected Ezaara to be contrite, not attack him and the council, but after everything they’d put her and Roberto through, he couldn’t blame her. So, why had he been so harsh?

  Because Tonio’s endless goading and insidious comments were eating away at him—that’s why. Yet Tonio was hardly impartial where Roberto was concerned.

  Lydia came over, putting her arm around his shoulders. “I heard all of that. Tough situation.”

  “In the name of the sharding Egg, Lydia, I don’t want to condemn Roberto, but I have no choice. He and Ezaara are in love.”

  “Do you remember when we fell in love? she asked softly.

  “Yes, I do.” He chuckled. “Your father wasn’t very happy, was he?”

  “No, the last thing he wanted was me hand-fasted to a dragon rider.” She leaned in to kiss his cheek. “But we defied him and ran away to be together. It took years for him to forgive us. Do you regret it?”

  “No, but this is the Queen’s Rider,” Lars said.

  “Even more reason to let her lead the way she wants to,” Lydia answered.

  “Tonio willingly sent Roberto to Death Valley. We know he has an ulterior motive.”

  “His grudge is influencing him,” said Lydia. “Amato hurt him grievously, but Amato’s been dead for years. And Roberto is not his father.” Lydia retreated.

  Lars stared into the crackling fire. Tonio was a sharding good spymaster and his instincts were usually right. As council leader, his hands were tied. The law was the law. He had no choice but to act upon Tonio’s counsel.

  Strangleton

  Fenni shivered as the chilly air brushed his naked skin. Narrow shafts of moonlight cut through the trees, illuminating a white quilt of snow that hugged the ground all the way to the edg
e of the river.

  Master Giddi stowed Fenni’s clothes in their tent under the strongwood trees. “Master your magic to warm yourself,” he said, coming back to the river’s edge. “Fenni, this is all about control. If you can master this, you can do anything with fire. Harness sathir and shape it to your needs.”

  His need was to kill tharuks. Fenni glanced over his shoulder, just in case.

  “It’s all right, there aren’t any monsters around,” Master Giddi said.

  That was a relief. Being caught naked by tharuks wouldn’t be fun. Lit by the moon, Fenni’s breath gusted out of his lungs in a silvery cloud. He lifted his ribs. Air rushed into his lungs, filling them. Now was as good a time as ever. He plunged headfirst into the dark water.

  The shock nearly knocked the air from his lungs, but he held it in, warring with his instinct to scramble out. Master your magic to warm yourself? Master Giddi was crazy. The only thing he’d master was his death.

  Warmth flickered inside Fenni, spreading outward from his core to his limbs. Impossible—unless … yes, it was Master Giddi, helping him combat the freezing river.

  Hair swirling in the water, Fenni felt the sathir in the river’s fish and plants, and harnessed the energy. Soon, green flickers shot from his fingers and a fireball grew between his hands. Fire underwater? Not as impossible as he’d thought. A fish, attracted by the light, shot past him. Fenni’s fireball died.

  “Concentrate!” Giddi’s reproach blasted through his mind.

  Fenni kicked up for the surface. His head broke into the chilly air.

  “A fish? A fish knocked you out of your rhythm?” Giddi boomed.

  Thank the Egg, no one was around to hear him. Highly embarrassing.

  “What if you lose focus when you’re facing a stinking tharuk? Get back underwater.”

  Fenni gulped in air, and dived back under, starting over. First sparks, then a fireball. He played, shooting fire between his hands. Not bad.

  “Bring it to the surface,” Master Giddi mind-melded.

  It was strange hearing the master mage’s voice in his head. Rumors said Giddi could mind-meld with anyone and any dragon—that’s how he’d received the title Dragon Mage.