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

by Eileen Mueller

  “She’s always been right, so far.”

  Shards, if they didn’t accept the wizards, it would be all-out slaughter. “Council masters, I implore you. We have a duty to protect every citizen of Dragons’ Realm, no matter their vocation,” Marlies pleaded. “Please, we can’t let this threat go unchecked. What if tharuks were killing your family?”

  A pointed gaze passed between Lars and Tonio. The spymaster nodded.

  “We’ve all taken vows to protect the citizens of Dragons’ Realm, whether we like them or not.” Lars was all action. “Masters, meld with your dragons, and mobilize all dragons and riders,” he commanded. “Giddi, meld with Singlar and tell him where the wizards are. We’ll bring them to the hold.”

  Thunder flashed across Giddi’s face, sending a jolt through Marlies. No one ordered the dragon mage about.

  “Hurry,” said Lars. “We may not like you, but we don’t want Zens to kill the last handful of your kind.”

  “The last handful?” said Giddi dryly. “There may be more of us than you think.”

  Home

  Torches flickered in the downdraft of their dragons’ wingbeats as Singlar and Antonika landed on the stage near the few members of the council that remained at the hold. Lars slid from Singlar’s back and held his hand high. The main cavern was packed, but gradually, the crowd settled into silence.

  “The rumors are true,” Lars said. “Tharuks have been hunting wizards in Spanglewood, so we’re taking in refugees. We’re expecting guests at any moment.”

  Angry mutters rippled through the crowd.

  Lars raised his voice, overriding them. “Yes, years ago, wizards brought peril into our realm. Because of them, we’re battling tharuks today. But we cannot stand aside and let Zens slaughter our people—mages or not, we’ve sworn to protect everyone.”

  An older rider hollered, “It’s a mage trick. They’ll slaughter us in our sleep.”

  Now, that was just ridiculous. Lars shook his head. “Wizards don’t kill riders, only tharuks.”

  The man yelled back, “No, but they let in Zens, who slaughtered my parents. I say we make ’em pay.”

  “Zens killed my sister’s whole family before my eyes.”

  “I don’t want wizards at my hearth.”

  He understood it, he really did. But despite his feelings, he had to abide by his vows and the council’s vote. Lars motioned to Tonio, who blew his horn. The deep note reverberated off the cavern walls.

  Tonio stepped forward. “I understand. I, too, have lost family to Zens. But it’s Zens we want to fight, not wizards. They let him in, but they haven’t stopped fighting him since. We can’t allow them to be slaughtered right on our doorstep out of spite. And they won’t be here forever.”

  An uneasy silence before a hand shot up. “How long will they stay?”

  “Only as long as necessary, believe me,” Lars said, eliciting a few chuckles.

  A lad called out, “Long enough for me to learn magic?”

  A ripple of laughter broke out. Good, this battle was half won.

  “Lars,” melded Singlar, “Seppi will be here any moment with half the blue guard.”

  By the Egg! “Half the blue guard? How many mages is he bringing?”

  “Some of them are still fighting. Others will be here on the morrow.”

  Lars turned to Tonio. “Call the council together.”

  Tonio motioned them into a huddle and Lars broke the news. “It sounds if we’ll have nearly a hundred mages turning up. The main cavern is the only place big enough to sleep them all, although they’ll need to warm it with mage flame.”

  “We don’t want them getting too cozy, or they may decide to stay,” said Tonio.

  “And supplies?” asked Lars. “How’s our food looking with additional mouths to feed?”

  “We have plenty,” Hendrik said. “As long as they’re not here too long.”

  Lars nodded. “That’s not our intention. This is temporary. Any extra bedding in the infirmary, Marlies?”

  “Some. We’ll ask families to bring spare blankets and quilts.”

  “Right.” Lars turned to the crowd.

  People were staring at the entrances high in the cavern walls. The blue guards were arriving. Seppi led them, spiraling down. In tight formation, the ring of dragons created a powerful downdraft. Many were carrying a rider and two mages. More mage-bearing dragons followed, joining the spiral.

  “Where have they all come from?” Lars asked Marlies.

  “Naobia, Spanglewood and the Flatlands. We’re lucky most of them were gathered at Mage Gate for their wizard trials. Now, we can train our riders to work with them more easily.”

  “Marlies.” Tonio nodded tersely. “I misjudged the situation. With these numbers, as long as there are no rogue mages, they could be an asset.”

  Despite himself, Lars had to agree. Imagine all that firepower.

  Talons scratched stone as dragons landed and their passengers disembarked. Most of the blue guards carried four full saddlebags, and the rearmost wizards had bedding strapped to their backs.

  “I thought they’d left in a hurry,” said Lars. “How did they have time to pack?”

  Marlies smiled. “I expect they used magic.”

  “Well,” said Tonio, grinning, his hand drifting to his sword, “if they think they can move in permanently, I know some magic that would send them packing.”

  §

  It’d been ten days since Marlies had sent Ezaara to Death Valley. Ten days of her waiting up at night, worrying whether she’d sent her daughter to her death by encouraging her to chase after the young Naobian master.

  Marlies had known Mazyka, and fought beside her. Understood the pain Master Giddi had gone through and why he loved her so much. She’d been brilliant. Impulsive. And loyal. Mazyka had taken a large contingent of mages through the world gate to Zens’ world to find a means of destroying Zens. She’d been trying to fix her mistake. But both councils had misunderstood and assumed she was seeking more power.

  And they’d insisted Giddi lock her out forever.

  She shook her head. In her eyes, that gave this council no reason to ban her daughter from loving who she wanted. But had her encouragement—and her wrath at Tonio’s hatred for Roberto—sealed Ezaara’s fate?

  Liesar mind-melded, “Riona and Maazini are approaching, bringing Ezaara.”

  Thank the flaming First Egg and dragon gods. “And Adelina?”

  “They have her too. They’re injured, but all alive.”

  She sighed in relief. They’d made it. Injuries she could heal, but she couldn’t bring anyone back from the dead.

  “And Roberto?”

  “Still captive.”

  That poor man. How much could one person withstand? She whirled. “Hans, Leah, Tomaaz is bringing Ezaara and Adelina home. Ready the clean herb, bandages, clear-mind berries and limplock remedy.”

  “I’ll make sure we have piaua on hand too. Is Ezaara all right?” Hans melded as she organized supplies with Leah.

  Marlies strode to the ledge. “She’s alive. In this game, that’s what counts.”

  §

  Ezaara had stayed the night in the infirmary, being mollycoddled and healed by Ma, lectured by Lars and Tonio about losing the dragon queen, and soothed by Pa. Tomaaz got it. He knew there wasn’t much to celebrate—they’d left Roberto and Zaarusha behind. Jael and Fenni, the two mages, got it too. All of them were determined to return. But the council had expressly forbidden her to leave the hold. And without Zaarusha she couldn’t go anywhere.

  She reached her cavern, entered and closed the door. Leaning her back against the sturdy wood, the aching hole in her chest caved in. She slid to the floor and buried her head in her hands. Was this what it meant to love? To feel the heart-wrenching agony of leaving Roberto alone in a filthy, stinking hole with a vicious enemy? What if he never came back?

  Gods, what use was being Queen’s Rider without Roberto? And what was a Queen’s Rider without a que
en? Where was Zaarusha? Ezaara had assumed she was back at the hold, but no one had seen her since the feast. Eleven days ago. What if Zaarusha were dead? Her chest grew tight. It was hard to breathe.

  Her few days in Death Valley felt like years. Roberto had been there for weeks. And she’d thought she could rescue him. If only she’d rallied the council, done a better job of convincing—

  “Ezaara,” a dragon melded, breaking into her thoughts.

  A familiar voice. One she hadn’t heard for a while. “Erob? Shards, I’m so sorry, I tried, but …” Tears ran down her cheeks, salt sliding over her lips.

  “Ezaara, you should bathe. You’ll want to smell sweet for Roberto.”

  “Very funny.” The thought made her cry harder.

  “No, Ezaara, I’m serious. Zaarusha melded and she’s bringing him home.”

  Zaarusha? And Roberto? Something light and sweet unfurled in her chest. “They’re safe?”

  “Yes, she’s bringing him here. I’ve already told Maazini not to go back to Death Valley. Did you want me to ask Liesar to send Marlies here?”

  “No, not yet.” Scrambling to her feet, Ezaara dashed to her bedside drawer and pulled out some healing supplies, spreading them on her bed. It might be greedy, but she wanted her first moments with Roberto alone.

  A thud sounded on the ledge. A few heartbeats later, Erob’s head poked through the archway from Zaarusha’s den. He breathed over her bathtub, heating the water. “They’re going to be a while yet. You’ll feel better greeting him without the stench of tharuk in your hair.”

  Ezaara threw her arms around Erob’s warm scaly neck. “Thank you.” This time, her tears were tears of gratitude.

  “I’ll warn you when they reach Dragon’s Teeth.” Erob retreated to the ledge, his wingbeats sending flurries of snow through the den as he took to the sky to meet his mother and his rider.

  Ezaara shut the door, abandoned her filthy riders’ garb, and sank into the warm water.

  A short while later, she was combing her hair, when Zaarusha melded. “Ezaara, he’s home.” A wave of the queen’s exhaustion washed over Ezaara, making her knees falter.

  “Hang on, Zaarusha, I’m coming.” She rushed outside to the ledge.

  Zaarusha was descending, holding Roberto’s limp body in her talons.

  A chill breeze slid along Ezaara’s damp scalp, making her shiver. “Is he dead?”

  “Not quite.” Zaarusha descended, lowering Roberto toward the ledge.

  Ezaara rushed over, arms out, to receive him. The queen delicately lowered him into her embrace.

  Zaarusha nuzzled her neck. “Must hunt.” She flew with ragged wingbeats toward the hunting grounds.

  Roberto was bloody, gaunt and bitterly cold. So unlike himself, her eyes pricked. Ezaara carried him inside and laid him on her bed. Moments later, Erob’s bulk filled the archway as he squeezed his head and a shoulder through the door. “How is he?”

  The shackle marks on his wrist and ankle were raw and weepy. Ezaara cut open the sides of his ratty breeches and shirt to check his body for injuries. The old wounds she’d healed in Death Valley were overlaid with fresh gashes and bruises. An angry welt had raised a lump on his back.

  “Erob, please warm this water for clean herb infusion.”

  “Gladly.” Solemn-eyed, the dragon huffed his breath over the cup.

  Ezaara began the painstaking process of cleansing and tending his wounds. She used healing salve, stitched the worst of his slashes shut, and applied piaua juice. This morning, in the infirmary, she’d overheard Ma telling Leah they didn’t have much piaua left. Guilt flashed through her. Zens had smashed Ezaara’s precious vials of the restorative juice when he’d battered her. Maybe she shouldn’t have taken so many with her. She’d thought she could heal some slaves, but she’d barely escaped with her life.

  “Ezaara, my son is blocking the archway. How’s Roberto?” Zaarusha asked.

  “I’m healing him now, but he’s still unconscious.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you escaped. Tharuks were attacking Monte Vista, so I had to defend our people. It’s been a long flight. I’m going to rest.”

  “Thank you for bringing him home. I’m glad you’re back. Sleep well.”

  Erob shifted, adjusting his weight. “He’s tough, you know.”

  “No one should have to withstand this.” Anger burned through Ezaara. “I have an arrow with Zens’ name on it. One day I’ll fire it.”

  “I hate what Zens has done to him, but do you know what’s special about Roberto?” Erob asked.

  Everything. “What?”

  “Zens taught him how to manipulate human minds—a terrible power to wield. Yet he only uses his talents for good.”

  True. Even though Roberto had been through hell, he’d risen above it.

  Ezaara looked at her unconscious lover. His face was sunken, making his cheekbones stand out like mountain ridges. Dark shadows lay under his eyes. She’d healed his broken nose, cleansed the blood from his face, yet under the wear and tear of his captivity he was still beautiful.

  But what had Zens done to his mind? Had he broken him? Would he rise above this too?

  §

  Adelina cautiously opened Ezaara’s door. Ezaara, sitting at Roberto’s bedside, glanced up. “Come in,” she said softly.

  Adelina approached the bed. Roberto was home. He was here. Breath rushed into her lungs. She hadn’t even realized she’d been holding it. “He’s thin, isn’t he?” And as pale as death.

  “He has a lot of new scars, even with piaua.”

  And those were only the physical ones. What mental torture had Zens inflicted upon her brother? Would he scream in the deep of the night, the way he had for two years after last escaping Zens? Adelina sat and stroked his hand. It didn’t matter. No matter how badly damaged he was, he was her family.

  §

  “You’re joking? All the mages are here?” Fenni asked.

  Master Giddi’s infamous eyebrows wiggled an affirmative. Fenni had never thought he’d be so happy to see those sharding eyebrows again.

  “How are the riders reacting?” Jael asked, getting up off the pallet they’d given him in Tomaaz’s cavern.

  Giddi shrugged. “Time will tell.”

  Giant John leaned back against the wall. “Fighting tharuks together helped form some bonds between riders and mages. You missed a ferocious battle.”

  What exactly had gone down at Mage Gate? “There’s only one thing I want to know,” Fenni said. “Did anyone shoot fireballs from underwater?”

  Jael chuckled.

  Master Giddi only lifted his eyebrow again. “I told you the main purpose of that exercise was to help your control,” he mind-melded.

  “Will you get out of my head?” Fenni thought back. All that training and he’d missed the best fight.

  “Sure,” Giddi melded.

  What? He’d just mind-melded back. Fenni gaped at Giddi, but his master just laughed.

  “Don’t worry, Fenni,” Master Giddi said. “It won’t be the last battle. Spanglewood is teeming with tharuks.”

  “Good,” said Fenni. “Kierion, Jael and I have ideas for training mages and riders together. Can we try them?”

  “Try whatever you want,” Giddi chuckled. “Just don’t get flamed by an irate dragon.”

  Giddi didn't think he was serious. Just wait until he saw what they’d planned.

  There was a bang at the door, and Hans entered. “Giddi, there’s been bad news. The Wizard Council have done a head count. Two young mages have been taken by tharuks—Velrama and Sorcha,” Hans said. “Apparently the tharuks boasted Zens is hunting for you, as well.”

  Master Giddi was on his feet in a heartbeat, striding to the door.

  Jael nudged Fenni. “Those were the two mages who were dueling when Sorcha was disqualified. The girl who made the doorway in the ice wall.”

  “Shards, they’re so young. Only our age.” Kierion was suddenly glad he’d missed the battle
.

  Shadows

  Roberto had been cold, cold, cold for so long. Now he was warm. Bleary peace stole through him. He could sleep like this forever. Never wake up. A face flashed to mind. Deep green eyes that he could lose himself in, blonde hair, and a smile to die for. Ezaara. That’s right, he’d been searching for her, but now he was too tired, so he’d just stay asleep, roaming the halls of his lost mind.

  Wait—he couldn’t sleep in this snow drift forever. He’d die. But why was he warm? Snow burn? Or numb nerves? He had to keep moving.

  Roberto stirred, his limbs heavy. Most of his pain was gone. He dragged his eyelids open.

  He was no longer in the forest. There was still a blanket of white, but it wasn’t snow; it was Ezaara’s quilt—white, edged with golden dragons. He was home. The gods knew how, but he’d made it. If he wasn’t so tired, he’d be joyful. He sighed, his eyelids fluttering closed again.

  He forced them open. There she was: looking every bit as lovely as his dream, bending over a table, sorting herbs into pouches. The torchlight played across her blonde hair like sun on liquid honey.

  Writhing shadows flickered at the edge of his vision. His knife, resting on the bedside table, called to him, the shine of its blade alluring. His fingers fastened around the handle. Its grip felt good, so natural. He had to use it.

  His gaze fastened on the beautiful girl at the table. Shadows writhed around her, beckoning him forward.

  Roberto slid his feet noiselessly to the floor, holding the knife at his side where it wouldn’t be seen.

  §

  Ezaara put clean herb into a pouch and tied it, then poured some soppleberries into another. It was better than wearing a hole in the stone with her boots. Hopefully Roberto would wake without some gods-awful head injury or permanent damage. The dull ache in her chest hadn’t eased completely. It wouldn’t until she knew he was well.

  “Liesar, when’s Ma coming to check on him?”

  “She knows he’s here, Ezaara, please be patient. She has injured wizards in the infirmary.”

  And a helper. Couldn’t Leah take care of them? This was Roberto, for the Egg’s sake. A master on the council.