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

by Eileen Mueller

  “There’s not a great likelihood of survivors,” melded Riona. “We’re too far from Death Valley for them to be collecting slaves. We’re practically at Dragons’ Hold.”

  “Jael, tharuks aren’t usually this close to Dragons’ Hold,” Kierion said. “Do you think they’re up to something?”

  “I don’t know,” Jael said. “I’m not from around here. You’d be the expert on that.”

  Fenni nudged Kierion. “Expert, huh? That’s a promotion.”

  “Come on, we’re nearly there,” Jael said. “Weapons at the ready.”

  That was easy for him to say. Mages only had to hold their hands out. Kierion grabbed his bow from a saddlebag and leaned forward so he could snatch an arrow from his quiver without knocking Fenni’s eye out. At the same time, Fenni leaned back. It was a squeeze, riding with two other passengers.

  “I should sneak into their camp,” Kierion said. “I can meld with Riona and, if you two place your hands on her hide, she’ll relay what I’m seeing.”

  “No,” Jael insisted. “I’m the most senior here. I’ll take the risks.”

  “But neither of us will know what’s happening.”

  “Which is absolutely normal in battle,” Jael said. “Now, quiet.”

  Riona descended between the trees to a river, landing two furlongs from the tharuk camp.

  Jael slid to the ground. “Give me a short head start. When you hear yelling or snarling, come and find me.” He ran into the trees.

  “I still don’t like this,” Kierion muttered.

  “He’s good,” said Fenni. “He can beat me hands down, just by raising his eyebrow.”

  Kierion turned in the saddle to see his friend’s face. “You’re joking.”

  “No, when we were dueling, the twitch of his eyebrow created an ice wall as high as Riona between us.”

  “As high as Riona?”

  “Mighty high,” huffed his dragon.

  “I thought he said you’d beaten him.”

  “Once, and only just.”

  “But he’s only a bit older than us.”

  “And been training as a mage since he could walk.”

  “Lucky guy.”

  Distant snarls ripped through the forest. Fenni grabbed Kierion’s waist as Riona leapt into the air.

  “Not too tight. Got to reach my quiver,” was all Kierion had a chance to say before they were over the tharuk campsite.

  Mage fire crackled between the trees. Lances of brilliant green hit tharuks, as Jael fought them single-handedly. Roars and bellows rang out.

  A beast with enormous tusks was sneaking through the trees behind Jael.

  “Closer,” Kierion urged, trying to get a clear shot.

  Riona tilted, her wingtip nearly grazing foliage.

  Mage fire blazed from Fenni’s hands as he felled a beast. Kierion leaned out and fired. Green flames arced from behind him, hitting his arrow and setting it aflame. It flew between the trees and hit the startled tharuk in the chest. It batted at its fur, too late. The scent of charred fur and flesh rose through the trees.

  Riona corrected her angle so they were level again.

  A rock hit Kierion’s head, thudding off Riona’s back into the foliage. His temple throbbed. Tiny lights danced before Kierion’s eyes. He shook his head, trying to clear his vision. Blood ran down his face, the coppery tang hitting his lips. Kierion slumped forward onto Riona’s spinal ridge and his vision went black.

  §

  “Kierion.” Fenni shook his friend, but he wouldn’t wake up. Leaning over Kierion’s prone form, Fenni placed his hands on the purple dragon’s hide. “Riona, can you hear me?”

  “Yes, Fenni, I hear you.” Her voice was gentle, tickling his mind. In that moment, he felt her sathir, like a river flowing between them. Kierion must feel this power every day. No wonder he enjoyed being a dragon rider. “Kierion’s unconscious. We must get him back to Dragons’ Hold.”

  “Master Giddi’s closer. He has piaua juice,” Riona replied.

  “He used the last of it healing you yesterday.”

  An angry rumble issued from the dragon’s belly. “I’ll kill the beast that did this.”

  As she banked, Kierion’s head started to slip off her ridge. Fenni grabbed him. “Riona, watch out, Kierion’s falling,” he yelled aloud—forgetting he could mind-meld while touching her.

  She righted herself. “Tighten his harness. Use the rope from my saddlebag to secure him.”

  He could do better than a rope, and faster. Fenni held out his hand. A vine flew from a tree beneath them, whipping around the dragon’s middle and over Kierion, tying him fast.

  “That works,” said Riona. “Now, where’s that tharuk?”

  “To your left, behind us in the strongwood with the jagged branch sticking up.”

  As Riona flew over the evergreen treetops, Fenni pulled the sathir from the air, blasting the tharuk off its perch with a fierce gust of wind. It crashed through the trees, snarling, then hit the ground—silent.

  The wind blew through Fenni’s clothes, making him shiver. The roaring had stopped below and there were no glints of green flame. But there was a strange glimmer in the trees. What was it? Something was sparkling.

  “Fenni,” Jael yelled.

  Fenni spun. Jael was on a small knoll near a smoldering cabin—or what was left of it.

  Riona landed on the hillock.

  Jael shook his head, his face soot-smudged and eyes brimming as he gazed at the ruins. “We’re too late. They’re dead: three littlings and their parents—every one of them. Those monsters must’ve killed them last night.” He kicked at a lump of snow, then faced Fenni. “What’s wrong with Kierion?”

  “A rock to the head. We need to hurry.”

  Jael’s dark eyes met Fenni’s. “Take him back to the new master healer at Dragons’ Hold. I’ll stay and bury the remains of that family.” He shook his head. “I’m not leaving them here, like that, charred bones in their beds.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t worry about me. It’s not a long walk to Mage Gate. And I’ll need the solitude, believe me, after cleaning up this lot.” He gestured at the tharuk carcasses strewn among the trees.

  Fenni twisted his cape in his hands. Shards, he should stay and help Jael. More tharuks could attack. But Kierion needed him too.

  Riona rumbled. Fenni placed his hand on her hide. “Jael is right. He’ll cope, Fenni. Let’s take Kierion home to Dragons’ Hold.”

  “She wants me to go to Dragons’ Hold,” he told Jael.

  “It’ll be a nice trip.” Jael grimaced. “Just like entering the flaming jaws of a dragon.”

  Dragon’s Jaws

  It was mid-morning when Riona flew over a steep mountain and swooped into a basin ringed by mountains. So, this was Dragons’ Hold. Fenni sucked his breath in. Dragons of all colors flew between caverns in the southern end of the basin, their wings catching the chill winter sun.

  As they neared, a blue dragon roared and charged out to meet them, its rider calling, “You have a wounded rider? Follow me.”

  “As if I couldn’t find the way myself,” Riona mind-melded, Fenni’s hand on her.

  The blue dragon and its rider wheeled away when they reached a cavern in the southern mountainside. How they could tell which cavern was which, Fenni had no idea.

  Riona thudded onto the enormous ledge. Liesar, the silver dragon he’d met at Mage Gate, padded over and nuzzled her. The next moment, a door flew open and Marlies, the master healer, rushed out. “Oh.” Alarm crossed her face. She gave Fenni a quick glance. “Please, untie the vines.”

  Fenni waved a hand, and the vines fell to the snowy ledge. He passed Kierion down to Marlies and she carried him inside. Fenni slid off Riona, pausing to lay his hand on her side. “Do you need anything?”

  “Just my rider to be healthy,” she answered. “Please.”

  Fenni hesitated. Jael had said he was going into the flaming jaws of a dragon. He removed his wizard cloak, so he
wasn’t an instant target.

  Fenni walked in the door. Beds lined the walls of a long cavern. A fire flickered in a grate at the far end, smoke funneling up a natural chimney. A few people were in beds or sitting near them, tending the sick and wounded. Everyone stared—everyone—their eyes roving over his clothing and lingering on his face. They were all dressed in riders’ garb—jerkins, shirts and breeches of tough fabric, suitable for flying—although the hues varied.

  He stood out like a blazing pyre of dead tharuks in the snow. He wished he was wrapped in his cloak’s invisible embrace.

  “Come in, Fenni,” Marlies called from Kierion’s bedside. “Everyone, this is Fenni, who saved Kierion and helped him get home. I expect you to welcome him.” She lifted Kierion’s eyelids and checked his pulse.

  As Fenni pulled the heavy door closed, a blonde girl of about twelve summers approached.

  “Are you a wizard?” she whispered, loudly enough for everyone in the silent infirmary to hear.

  He hesitated. The flaming jaws of a dragon … Flames, what should he say? He’d be thrown out in an instant if the Council of the Twelve Dragon Masters heard about him.

  Hang on, he was proud of being a mage. He’d just passed his last trials. He’d been killing tharuks on dragonback with a rider. Who cared what a bunch of prejudiced dragon riders thought? “Yes, I am.” Fenni held his hand out. Letting sparks flit from his fingers, he turned them into tiny green blossoms that disappeared in a volley of pops.

  Eyes wide, she clapped and laughed. “I’m Leah, you’re so lucky to be a wi—” She clamped her mouth shut.

  The tension in the chamber spiked.

  Fenni winked at her. “Yes, I am.” He forced himself to chuckle. “And you’re lucky to live at Dragons’ Hold. It’s beautiful here, even in winter. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to check on my best friend.”

  “Kierion’s your best friend? He’s fun.”

  He could be—if he ever woke up again.

  Marlies was looking concerned. “Leah,” she said, gesturing at the girl. “Get me some blankets. He’s freezing.”

  Shards, how silly of him. “I can help,” said Fenni.

  His friend was pale and his lips were tinged blue. The veins in his hands were a mottled purple. He’d been so concerned about getting him home, he hadn’t thought about keeping him warm. If Kierion died, he’d be partly to blame …

  Fenni held Kierion’s feet. Jael had explained that if you warmed the peripheries first—the limbs, hands and feet—then it wasn’t such a shock to the body when its temperature rose. Fenni focused on his friend. He channeled sathir through his hands, warming Fenni’s extremities, then limbs and torso.

  Slowly, his friend’s hands lost their mottled purple appearance, and grew pink again. The pallor on his face faded and his cheeks took on a healthy hue.

  “That’s enough, Fenni,” Marlies said. “Overheating can be as dangerous as under-cooling.”

  Fenni’s breath gushed out of him. He rolled his shoulders. How long had he been working on Kierion? Moments or hours? In the underground warren it was hard to tell how much time had passed. How did these people live year round without daylight? He gazed around. There were regular holes in the outside wall, each stoppered with a large rock. They must be windows of sorts in summer. He shrugged. Who needed windows when you could jump on a dragon at a moment’s notice? That was fresh air enough.

  Marlies frowned, keeping her voice low. “I’m a little concerned. It’s a bad gash. He’s not showing signs of getting worse, but none of getting better.” She took a slim vial of green juice from a pouch at her waist. “So, we’ll try piaua juice.”

  Kierion twitched as she applied it to the gash in his head, but there was no other change.

  “We’ll need to sit with him.”

  Fenni shrugged. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Leah brought more blankets and a bowl of steaming stew for Fenni. “You must be famished,” she said, handing him some crunchy bread rolls. The food was good, better than Giddi’s infamous wizard’s porridge, day in, day out.

  Marlies handed Fenni a set of riders’ garb. “You might want to change into these while you’re here. There’s no point in stirring up antagonism.” She shook her head, lips compressed in a thin line. “If only the fools would see reason.”

  “Fools?” Fenni wasn’t sure how honest he should be. “You mean the Wizard Council? Or the Council of the Twelve Dragon Masters?”

  “Both. And I’m a member of one of them.”

  Of course she was, as master healer. He ducked into an alcove crammed with shelves of healing supplies. Among them, he recognized some of Jael’s jars and pouches. His new garb was much warmer than his wizard gear. He bundled his clothes in his cloak and knotted the ends.

  Kierion’s breathing was soft and easy, like a lamb. It was uncanny. Kierion was a restless sleeper, thrashing and even laughing in his sleep.

  Fenni’s own eyes grew heavy and soon his lids shut.

  Hours later, Fenni woke to Kierion’s chuckle. It was strained, but his friend was awake. The torches had burned low. Judging by the number of patients sleeping, it must be late at night. “Thank the Egg, you’re all right,” Fenni whispered. “You gave me a right fright.”

  “Not as much of a fright as that rock gave me,” Kierion replied.

  “Or as much of a fright as that tharuk got when Riona and I got it,” Fenni said.

  “Good,” said Kierion, trying to sit up.

  Marlies appeared at his bedside. “Leah, fetch a bedpan,” she called, and the blonde girl dashed off.

  “No way,” Kierion muttered when Leah returned. “Give a man some dignity. Fenni, will you help me to the latrines?”

  “Sure,” Fenni said. He needed to go too, but he hadn’t been keen to go on his own, here, in the midst of enemies.

  Fenni helped Kierion out of bed. He leaned on him as they negotiated a maze of torch-lit tunnels. Around the first corner, they ran into a slim woman about their age, with long blond hair and jade eyes. Quite pretty.

  “Kierion, are you all right?” she said, taking in Fenni supporting him.

  “I’m fine. A small bump on the head. That’s all. This is my best friend from Montanara, Fenni.”

  “Welcome to Dragons’ Hold. I’m Ezaara.”

  “The Queen’s Rider,” Kierion said, nudging Fenni.

  “Oh?” Fenni held out his hand. He’d never expected the head of Dragons’ Hold to be their age, but then again, he’d never expected Jael to be a master either. “Nice to meet you, um, your royal rider.”

  She laughed. “Ezaara will do. I’m new at this game. Welcome to Dragons’ Hold. It’s not often we have mages here.”

  But he was wearing riders’ garb. “How could you tell?” Fenni asked.

  She smiled. “You have a smudge of mage smoke on your cheek.” Her eyes flitted over their shoulders and her face tightened. “Excuse me, I have business with Master Lars. Enjoy your stay.” Abruptly, she turned back the way she’d come.

  Kierion glanced behind them. “Now, here’s someone I wish you’d use your mage power on,” he whispered. “Sofia’s been spreading lies about Ezaara, saying she not the Queen’s Rider. That her bloodline’s wrong. Apparently, some dumb prophecy is broken. Yesterday she even told someone Ezaara had murdered the real Queen’s Rider so she could ride Zaarusha.”

  “But Ezaara seems nice.” What he’d seen of her, anyway.

  “She is.” Kierion’s vehemence startled Fenni. He drew himself up. “I’ll walk on my own while that guttersnipe is around,” Kierion muttered. “No point in showing weakness to your enemy.”

  That was it. Riders and wizards didn’t have to be enemies if they worked together. It wasn’t your vocation that made you enemies. It was whether your goals aligned.

  Within a few paces, the girl passed them, her blond curls bouncing.

  “Hello, Sofia,” Kierion called. “Got a moment?”

  The girl wheeled. “What? So you can p
lay a prank on me?”

  Fenni grinned. Troublemaker or not, Sofia knew Kierion.

  “Of course not.” Kierion put a hand on the wall to support himself. “I just wanted to introduce you to a friend.”

  Fenni moved closer to Kierion in case he toppled over.

  Sofia cocked her head at Fenni. “I haven’t seen you around. Have we met?”

  “Not yet,” said Fenni. “Nice to meet you.” He extended his hand, letting a little wizard power trickle through his fingertips.

  She grasped his hand then dropped it. “You have hot hands,” she said, shaking her hand—as if that would ease the wizard sting.

  “I’d like to remind you to support the Queen’s Rider.” Fenni gave Sofia a smile that was all teeth.

  Sofia’s face twisted. “What? That murdering usurper?”

  “Ezaara is Queen’s Rider,” Kierion said, “and you should respect her. Her bond has been tested and proven.”

  “By an ex-traitor,” she snapped.

  “He’s proven himself thrice over here at Dragons’ Hold, helping save Ajeuria and assisting when the queen was poisoned by Fleur.”

  Sofia spat at Kierion’s feet.

  Fenni twitched his hands, but Kierion touched his arm briefly, warning him not to interfere. Fenni fumed. No one spat at his friends and got away with it. This girl was a nasty piece of work.

  “Well,” she said, “won’t you be pleased to hear what’s happened to Roberto?”

  Who was Roberto?

  Next to Fenni, Kierion’s body tensed. “Oh? What now?” He yawned, as if he didn’t care.

  Fenni knew that artificially casual tone. Roberto must be a good friend of Kierion’s. This woman was on dangerous ground.

  She grinned. “Master Roberto is being held captive by Zens,” she sneered. “I’ll bet you didn’t know that.”

  “Is that all?” Kierion acted disinterested, but Fenni could feel the change in Kierion’s sathir, the anger simmering beneath the surface.

  Sofia stalked past Kierion—and found her way blocked by a wall of green mage flame. She spun, face suddenly pale in the torchlight. “You’re a—”

  “Yes, I am,” said Fenni.