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

by Eileen Mueller

  Then there was silence.

  Ezaara risked peeking out. Dead tharuks were scattered across the hill, green and yellow flames licking at their fur. A pall of black and green smoke hung in the air. She scrambled to her feet, hoisting Adelina up.

  “Wizard fire.” Adelina’s voice cracked. “Kierion and Fenni are here.”

  Roars echoed from the valley and more tharuks surged up the hill.

  “Quick, Maazini.”

  “Stand far apart. We’re coming to collect you.”

  Ezaara dragged Adelina past smoking bodies, coughing on the foul smoke-laden air. “Adelina, brace yourself.”

  With a sickening lurch, Maazini grabbed Ezaara in his talons and they were sky-bound. Riona snatched up Adelina.

  An aching, empty hole gaped in Ezaara’s chest as they ascended, fleeing tharuk arrows. Leaving Roberto behind.

  Retaliation

  The air reeked of mage fire. The godforsaken stuff clung in Zens’ nostrils. Green smoke wafted across the hillside above the carnage of Zens’ dead troops, carrying the stench of burned flesh. A pair of dragons were fleeing over the Terramites—one of them was the orange specimen he’d captured. It didn’t matter that the dragon had escaped months ago. Zens had harvested its DNA long before. But it was worrying that mages and dragons were working together again. Years ago, he’d driven a bitter wedge of mistrust between dragon riders and mages, deep enough for them to hate each other forever.

  When tharuks had reported dragons overhead, he’d deliberately brought the girls into the open. By rescuing them, the fools had played into his hands.

  His slow smile turned to a grimace. A hundred stinking corpses littered the mountainside. He’d been prepared to sacrifice a few tharuks in a pathetic skirmish. But this? Fury roiled inside him at his wasted troops. Someone would pay.

  Zens faced his assembled tharuks. “A hundred tharuks have died defending Death Valley. Those stinking dragon riders and mages did this. Will we let them get away with this carnage?”

  His troops roared.

  “We will avenge them,” Zens bellowed, rousing their bloodlust. “000 will take a troop to execute a hundred slaves.”

  “Yes, sir.” 000 and his troop marched down the valley, their feet stirring up dust that mingled with mage smoke.

  “Tharuk 766, take a raiding party and scour Spanglewood Forest for a hundred more slaves to replace them.”

  “My pleasure, sir,” tracker 766 answered, tusks salivating.

  766’s troop raced up the rocky mountainside, stomping over dead tharuks in their eagerness to hunt humans. Zens smiled. He’d trained them well.

  “967, come here. The rest of you, clean up those corpses. Throw them onto the tharuk flesh pile. When you’re done, I want everyone on lockdown. Sleep in the slaves’ huts tonight. No one is allowed out in the valley. And post no lookout.”

  “Yes, Commander,” the tharuks said as one, pounding their fists on their chests. They traipsed up the hill to gather the dead.

  967, a wiry tharuk with an affinity for crows, approached. “Commander, how I help?” It wrung its hands.

  His grunts’ lack of language skills was irritating at times. “Send crows to the tharuk troop leaders, telling them to kill all the wizards in Spanglewood Forest. Raze their homes and destroy their young, but bring me back two captives.”

  “Kill all wizards. Bring two back.”

  He mind-melded, showing a face to 967. “And 967, tell them I want Master Giddi alive.”

  §

  Hours after tharuks had taken Ezaara and Adelina, 000 returned to the holding cell, waking Roberto from a broken, hollow sleep.

  “Commander Zens wants to see you.” 000 grabbed Roberto in a headlock.

  As if he could put up a fight. He was a shadow of himself.

  000 dragged Roberto along tunnels, his head wedged under the tharuk’s stinking armpit. When they reached the tunnel mouth, it was dark outside and the air was tinged with bitter smoke. The tharuk adjusted its grip, slipping its arm over Roberto’s shoulders so he could walk upright. Roberto wasn’t fooled. 000’s sharp claws could shred him in an instant.

  They crossed the deserted, barren valley. Moonlight bathed a blackened mountainside. It had been burned. His throat tightened. They hadn’t incinerated Ezaara and Adelina, had they? That made no sense, but then again, Zens’ actions seldom did.

  Mist crept out of mining pits in the barren hillsides, writhing around his ankles. Zens had destroyed all the vegetation in this valley while mining yellow crystals. Before being caught, Roberto had infiltrated a mining crew so he could snoop, and he’d frequently seen Zens entering a large cavern with a door of stone. Is that where Zens was making his new creatures? Were they heading there now?

  Sure enough, 000 took him underground. Dim torches lit the walls as the track sloped down, narrowing as they went. The acrid stench of the mines hit Roberto’s nostrils, making his eyes water. He blinked, trying to clear them as 000 marched him deeper into the network of mines. Every footstep jarred his head.

  “The commander has something special in store for you,” 000 said.

  The vapor rising to greet him made his head throb. Where were Adelina and Ezaara? He doubted Zens had let them go. He trudged on, keeping his thoughts submerged.

  000 took a shadowy turnoff that spiraled down until they came to a large stone that blocked the tunnel. This was where Roberto had seen Zens go. 000 pressed on the stone, and it rolled sideways, revealing a large chamber lit with a yellow glow.

  Workbenches and tools similar to Zens’ parents’ workshop littered the room. Dark furry blobs were floating in glass tanks lining the far wall, illuminated by large yellow crystals. Beyond the tanks, bright light poured from another chamber.

  000 shoved Roberto forward. “We’re here,” he said. “Enjoy your stay.”

  A familiar voice spoke behind him. “Welcome, my protégé.”

  He spun. Zens was leaning against a recessed counter, the yellow light tinging his sallow face. “000, please bind him to worktop four.”

  000 flung Roberto onto a bench. Roberto thrashed, but 000 bound his chest, hands and ankles to the bench with metallic bands. Zens forced a clear flexible tube between Roberto’s lips while 000 lifted his head.

  Roberto clenched his teeth, blocking the tube from entering his mouth.

  “Suck,” commanded Zens.

  Roberto refused. 000 pinched his nose with its stinking furry hands. His lungs burned.

  “Suck, I said.” Zens bulging eyes drilled into him. A dull band of pressure tightened around Roberto’s head. He fought to block Zens out. The pressure spread across his skull, unclenching his jaw. Zens rammed the tube into his mouth, smiling, his yellow orbs drilling into Roberto.

  Roberto sucked in bitter air and blacked out.

  §

  Roberto groaned as he awoke, face down. Mustard light reflected off the cool metal beneath him. His back was sore. What had Zens done to him? He moved his legs. Wait, his restraining bands were gone. He rolled over and sat up.

  No one was in the room. Zens wasn’t pounding at his head either. He cautiously reached out with his mind, searching for Zens and found nothing. What was going on? Roberto swung his legs over the bench and slid to the floor. He wouldn’t be alone forever—Zens or 000 could return any moment. He should escape, but first …

  His queen had sent him here to find out what creatures Zens was developing—he may never get another chance. Heart pounding, Roberto crept toward the entrance to the inner chamber and peeked inside.

  The room dwarfed this one, easily five times larger. Zens stood at a counter, his back to Roberto, working with strange metal implements. Hundreds of tanks, large enough to fit a man in, stood in rows, with workbenches between them. Tharuks were mixing things in bowls and sprinkling some sort of dust into the water in the tanks. What was inside? More furry blobs, some with legs. Roberto squinted. That was a tusk. There were some claws …

  By the dragon gods’ First Egg,
they were tharuks. Sweat pebbled his skin. Zens grew them in these tanks.

  Commander Zens and his tharuks were dwarfed by more tanks—as large as houses—along the back wall. Weird black creatures were suspended in fluid, curled up, with ragged bits of cloth hanging from them. These must be Zens’ secret weapon—the creatures Zaarusha had sent him to find out about.

  Although they were illuminated by glowing crystals at the bottom of their tanks, it was hard to see what they were. Roberto lingered, trying to get a better look. One of the creatures moved, and something white flashed. A tusk or a horn? Was that a tail or a limb? The cloth around the beast swirled, preventing him from seeing more.

  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.

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

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

  Lars nodded. “Permission granted.”

  Tomaaz 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.”

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

  People cheered.

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

  Lovina cleared her throat, and Tomaaz 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 at Tomaaz. “Tomaaz rescued me.”

  Taliesin piped up, “Tomaaz rescued me too.”

  Sofia bowed. “Then I owe your family a debt, Tomaaz. My apologies 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?”