Dragon Hero: Riders of Fire, Book Two - A Dragons' Realm novel

by Eileen Mueller

  “Hah. Crows. I sent a crow to 458—the best tharuk tracker. Zens will have the entire army hunting your wife. The crow knows her, now.”

  Hans’ blood froze, a chill creeping through him. He maintained a light tone as he edged toward the stick. “Why’s that, Bill?”

  “Your wife. You. Your daughter. All dragon riders, aren’t you? Wait ’til Klaus and the settlement council hear about this. They hate riders and those hideous beasts. ‘Protectors of the realm’ indeed.” Bill added spittle to his sarcasm.

  “As much as they despise tharuk spies?”

  Bill snarled and leaped forward, slashing with his knife.

  Hans lunged sideways and rolled. He leaped to his feet, grasping the stick.

  Grunting in surprise, Bill glowered as they gauged each other, both looking for an opening.

  “I know your dirty secret,” Bill snapped. “Dragon lover!”

  “Get off my land, Bill.” Hans made his voice steely. He hefted his stick.

  Bill gritted his teeth, eyes like fire on a blade. He darted for Hans’ chest.

  Hans swung his stick, connecting with Bill’s knife. The blade arced through the air, landing on the grass. “I said, get off my land,” Hans growled.

  Bill snatched up his knife, spat at Hans, and ran off toward the settlement hub.

  Hans frowned. Bill’s eyes had shone with an oddly-familiar light.

  He shrugged. It was probably nothing. Klaus’ grandfather, Frugar, had been a dragon rider but he’d died in a fierce battle. His son Joris, Klaus’ father, had been bitter about Frugar’s death, turning everyone against the very creatures that protected the realm. As a result, Klaus and the entire settlement had grown up hating dragons. Where would Klaus’ loyalty lie when he discovered his family had once been dragon riders?

  Hans trudged inside, ready for his next battle. “Come on, Son. I know you don’t feel like it, but we have to get to Klaus’ meeting.”

  His back to Hans, Tomaaz stabbed the fire with the poker, then whirled, holding the metal rod like a sword. “I have no choice,” he spat, throwing the poker.

  It clanged against the hearthstone, making Hans flinch. “Tomaaz—”

  A sigh hissed from his son’s lips. “Don’t panic, Pa. I won’t tell your nasty little secrets.”

  “Thanks, Son.” Not perfect, but it would have to do. “Let’s go.”

  Tomaaz stalked toward the door, but someone knocked before he got there. He flung it open and admitted Ernst, his wife Ana, and son, Lofty.

  “Evening,” Hans said, wishing he and Tomaaz had more time to talk alone.

  Ana closed the door behind them. “Hans, we’d like to support your family.” Voice quiet, she raised a hand to cut off Hans’ protest. “We suspect your lives aren’t what they appear, but we’ll stand by you. We agreed you should have this.” She gave Hans a brown velvet pouch. “It contains a few useful things, including my mother’s magic ring, imbued with dragon power.”

  A magic ring of dragon power? Pocketing the pouch, Hans fought to keep the surprise from his face.

  Tomaaz moved closer, shooting him a keen glance.

  “If you’re in a tight corner, with nowhere to go, rub the ring and say my name.” Ana leaned in. “It’s short for my mother’s name, Anakisha, the last Queen’s Rider.”

  “Thank you.” A chill snaked down his spine. When Anakisha had become Queen’s Rider, her children had already been scattered, far from Dragons’ Hold, to keep their identities hidden. Now, Anakisha’s daughter stood right here in front of him. Had been for years.

  Ana studied him. “I see you knew her, or knew of her.”

  Hans felt naked—had their careful cover not fooled anyone?

  “We’ve long suspected you and Marlies were riders,” Ernst said, his shaggy eyebrows drawn into a frown. “We’d better get going. Klaus hates stragglers.”

  Tomaaz and Lofty were elbowing each other, heading for the door.

  “Tomaaz, wait,” Hans called. “Thank you, Ana. Ernst, we’ll catch up with you.” He shut the door behind them.

  Kneeling before the fire, Hans whipped a knife from his belt and prized it beneath the loose stone at the front of the hearth. If anything happened to him, Tomaaz needed resources and a plan. Hans lifted the entire stone away. Reaching his fingers into the cavity, he angled them back toward the room. With a click, the floorboard in front of the fireplace sprung open.

  Tomaaz knelt next to the loose floorboard as Hans pulled dark fabric from under the floor. “My dragon riders’ garb. Marlies has hers with her.” He showed Tomaaz a coin purse, then tucked the jerkins and breeches away again, and retrieved Ana’s velvet pouch from his pocket. Placing the purse and pouch on top of his dragon riders’ garb, he replaced the floorboard and wedged the stone back into the hearth. He kept his voice low. “If anything happens to me, take Ana’s pouch and those silvers and head for Dragons’ Hold.”

  “Where’s Dragons’ Hold?”

  “North, past Montanara, hidden within a ring of treacherous mountains—impassable except by flying. Any dragon rider will take you there if you tell them you’re my son.” Hans sighed. “I hope it never comes to that.”

  Tomaaz stared at Hans, speechless, the crackling fire and their breathing the only sounds. Finally, he rolled his eyes. “Ask any dragon rider? As if I’d see one daily!” He stalked to the door.

  Hans followed. He resisted the temptation to look back at the forest for a glimpse of Marlies. She’d already be gone. They walked along the road stretching south to the village. Ahead, Bill and his horse were a blot against the pale gravel. Around them, the Alps were tipped silver in the dark.

  “You all right, Son?”

  “Absolutely fine. Why wouldn’t I be, with half our family gone?” Tomaaz’s boot knocked a rock, sending it skittering along the road.

  “Sorry, stupid question.” Hans placed a hand on Tomaaz’s shoulder, but his son shrugged it off, stomping angrily toward the settlement. “Tomaaz,” Hans called, “I have to warn you.”

  His son turned back.

  “Bill is out to discredit us. Be careful what you say tonight.”

  Tomaaz’s only answer was the crunch of gravel under his boots as he jogged off to catch up with Lofty. Hans jogged behind him and soon they were walking with Ernst’s family.

  Raking a hand through his hair, Hans gazed out at the Western Grande Alps, Marlies’ first destination, two days’ hard ride away. Something on top of the Alps winked at him. He was about to turn away, but—

  “Oh, shards! Ernst, Ana! A beacon fire.” Hans broke into a sprint toward the village square.

  “Pa!” Tomaaz called, racing to keep up, Ernst, Ana and Lofty running too.

  Using his dragon sight, Hans evaluated the fire, a gleaming yellow spot between the silver snow-tipped alps. If was he judging it right, the fire was on the Western Pass. “Tharuks have attacked the Western Pass!” Hans yelled, spurting ahead.

  He and Marlies had sheltered in this sleepy valley for too long, ignorant to the advances Zens was making. Hiding from their past, instead of owning it. Well, he’d make up for it tonight. He’d do what he could to save Lush Valley from the approaching monsters. If only he had dragon power, now, to speed his feet. At least his dragon sight was permanent, the result of him being Dragons’ Realm’s former Master Seer.

  Fields and barns gave way to scattered houses. Soon they were dashing along streets lined with sleepy shuttered buildings, past corners where oil lamps glowed on posts. Voices drifted from the square. Hans rounded a corner—and stopped. The street was jammed with people. There was no way through.

  “This way, Hans,” Ernst called, wheeling toward an alley. They ducked behind a row of stores, leaping piles of refuse, and rousing dogs.

  Hans followed Ernst and Ana between two buildings, Lofty and Tomaaz trailing them. They burst into the torchlit square among a crush of people.

  There, at the head of the square, near the clock tower and village fountain, Klaus stood on
the wooden stage, gripping the podium. “We must take precautions,” he said, voice carrying across the gathered folk. “That beast will be back, and maybe more with it. We mustn’t allow dragons to wreak havoc upon us.”

  An ocean of people stood between them and Klaus, but if they shouted a warning, they’d cause a panic, and people might be crushed.

  Instinctively, Hans stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Ernst, and they pushed their way through the crowd. “Make way, please.”

  “We have to make sure our families are safe,” Klaus called to the crowd, thumping the podium. “We need an army, especially archers, to protect us from vengeful dragons.”

  “Please, we must see Klaus urgently.” More people moved. They had to barge past others.

  Klaus was still talking as Hans climbed on stage and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  Klaus lowered his voice. “What is it, Hans? Is Ezaara worse?”

  By the Egg, he’d nearly forgotten their alibi. He hated lying. Hans shook his head. “Marlies has taken Ezaara to the healers at Western Settlement to see if they can help.”

  “I’m sorry, Hans.” Concern painted Klaus’ face.

  Hans pushed on. “Klaus, there’s a matter of utmost importance.” People were pressing in against the stage. Many of them would hear, but Hans couldn’t risk waiting. They had to fortify Lush Valley against tharuk attack. The best time to marshal their defenses was now, while everyone was gathered.

  Hans pointed at the Western Grande Alps. “Klaus, that yellow light is a beacon fire. The dragon set a beacon pyre alight to warn us that tharuks are attacking Lush Valley.” The moment he’d spoken, Hans knew he’d made a mistake.

  A mask of fury snapped over Klaus’ face. Men near the stage muttered indignantly about dragons. Other shook their fists.

  Klaus jabbed a finger at Hans’ chest, his voice rising. “Are you suggesting that dragons might warn us of attack?”

  Hans wasn’t suggesting it, he knew it, but he was no use to the realm imprisoned—and definitely no use to his family behind bars or burned at the stake. “You’re right, Klaus,” he agreed. “The guards at the pass could’ve lit that fire.”

  Eyes narrowed, Klaus scrutinized his face. “Then why did you mention dragons, Hans?”

  “I’m sorry. With the stress of seeing the dragon today, I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  Nodding, Klaus peered toward the west. “Beacon, you say? I can’t see anything but stars.”

  Shards! He’d forgotten about his dragon sight! Could anyone else see the fire?

  Ernst stepped closer, pointing at the pass. “There, Klaus, see that bright star, yellower than the rest? That’s fire.”

  “Looks like a star to me,” Klaus said, shaking his head. “Dragons and fire. What’s gotten in to you, Hans?”

  “Perhaps he’s a dragon lover!” yelled a throaty voice.

  Hans whirled.

  Bill, stained teeth set in an ugly grin, leaped onto the stage. “Hans raced to that dragon,” he shouted. “His daughter hasn’t been seen since.” He stabbed a finger at Hans. “How do we know the dragon hasn’t taken her?”

  Hans’ breath caught in his throat.

  “You’re a dragon lover, Hans, aren’t you?” Bill sneered. “Offering up your daughter as a sacrifice.”

  “Of course not. A preposterous notion!” Hans drew himself up straight. “That fire is a beacon, set by the guards to warn us that tharuks are invading Lush Valley.” The crowd was riveted. Hans called, “We’re under attack. We have to prepare!”

  Murmurs crept through the crowd. Folk shifted uneasily. Good. They were listening.

  “We need to protect our families and village,” Hans urged them. “We must form an army to fight them, or we’ll be overrun, slaughtered in our sleep or taken as slaves for Zens.”

  “The only thing that’s attacked us is a stinking dragon,” yelled Bill. “Hans really thinks a dragon lit that fire. It probably roasted the guards at the pass for dinner.” His laugh rasped like a knife on a whetstone. “Tharuks have never come to Lush Valley!” Bill’s eyes glinted yellow in the torchlight. “Why would they come now?”

  People cursed Hans. “Dragon lover.”

  “Mud flinger!”

  “No, you have to listen. I—” Hans started.

  “Hans!” Klaus bellowed, rapping his metal gavel against the stone-topped podium. “You’re inciting unrest and disrupting our citizens. I won’t have these wild rumors.”

  Superstitious ignorant clods! It was a beacon fire. Way larger than men could light. Only a dragon could’ve built that pile and set it alight. Tharuks would swarm over the pass, attack Western Settlement, then head straight for Lush Valley.

  Hans scanned the crowd: farmers, bakers, the odd smithy or warrior. Plenty were younger than Tomaaz. Many, too old to fight. Tharuks against them? Within hours, Lush Valley would be defeated.

  “Arm yourselves. Protect your families!” Hans yelled.

  “Order! Order!” Klaus bellowed. He smashed his metal gavel against the podium, sharp cracks ricocheting across the square.

  The crowd quieted, but they were still restless.

  Klaus faced Hans. “Go home, now!” His voice carried. “The shock of that shrotty dragon has addled your brain! Get out of here.” He flung his arm across the crowd, pointing north, toward Hans’ farm. “Now!”

  Old Bill stepped aside to let Hans through, a smarmy smile plastered across his face.

  §

  Lofty elbowed Tomaaz, muttering, “Told you dragons were nothing to be feared. My grandma was Queen’s Rider.”

  “And now my sister,” Tomaaz replied glumly, traipsing home behind Pa and Lofty’s parents. His life was getting more complicated by the heartbeat. It seemed like everyone in Lush Valley was hiding secrets.

  “Your pa’s excuse might’ve fooled the villagers, but not our family.” Lofty nudged him again. “Hey, both of us have Queen’s Riders in our families. Does that make us cousins or something?”

  Tomaaz laughed. Trust Lofty to see the light side.

  Up ahead, Pa was walking with Lofty’s parents, his shoulders slumped. He was muttering to Ernst and Ana, and waving a hand toward the beacon fire.

  “Do you think that’s a fire, or is your pa crazy?”

  Tomaaz shrugged. “He’s always been able to see stuff in the distance.”

  “Tharuks must be coming, then. Can’t wait to fight them.” Lofty’s grin lacked his usual bravado.

  So, he was scared, too.

  Tomaaz scuffed his boots in the gravel. “You know, we’ve been chaffing for adventure, but Ezaara disappearing and tharuks stomping into Lush Valley wasn’t quite what I wanted.”

  “And I won’t even get to kiss Ezaara again.” Lofty sighed.

  Tomaaz rolled his eyes, then stopped dead in his tracks. “Shards!”

  “What?” Lofty raised an eyebrow.

  “I forgot all about seeing Beatrice tonight.”

  “At least she’ll still be here tomorrow, waiting for you.”

  As if Beatrice would wait for him …well, maybe—with her red hair and blushing cheeks. Tomaaz hadn’t kissed a girl before.

  “Come on.” Lofty yanked him forward. “Let’s see what our old men are nattering about.”

  They sped up.

  “I’m sure Bill’s a tharuk spy,” Pa was saying. “His eyes were yellow, as if he’s on swayweed.”

  Swayweed! Tomaaz’s mind reeled. That was one of Zen’s substances. It changed love to hate, and hate to love, breaking allegiance and loyalty, allowing Zens to force a bond with people who would normally hate him.

  “I’ve often wondered about Lovina,” Ana said.

  “Now, that had never occurred to me,” Ernst replied. “She could be numlocked.”

  “Marlies and I wondered about her being on numlock. Years ago, when Bill first visited Lush Valley, he asked Marlies to treat Lovina’s slow-witted mind, but we couldn’t pinpoint anything. Besides, he said she’s been like that for years, so w
e thought we were being overly-concerned.”

  Lovina had never responded, just stared at them blankly. The idiot, some of the others called her when she turned up with Old Bill for market days. Poor girl, she’d never done anyone harm. But then again, she never did much good either. She just existed.

  When they reached the turnoff to Ernst’s farm, Ana cautioned them, “Keep your doors locked. You don’t want to wake up in chains, being dragged away by tharuks.”

  Ernst shook his head. “It’s the last thing any of us want.”

  “It’s two days’ fast ride by horseback from Western Settlement to here, and tharuks travel by foot,” said Pa. “So, we should have a day or two to prepare.”

  “We’ll talk tomorrow, see who we can get onside,” Ernst replied.

  Tomaaz bumped knuckles with Lofty, and Lofty, Ernst and Ana went along the road.

  He and Pa were left alone, walking across the farm. “Ask me anything,” Pa said.

  Well, that was direct. Tomaaz released a gust of breath. “Why did you never tell us? You could’ve trusted me and Ezaara.”

  “I would have told you in a flash, if Klaus and his ignorance weren’t such a danger. You saw them, tonight: their hatred; their close-mindedness.” Pa shook his head. “Scared of the very creatures that have kept them safe for so long.”

  “Dragons haven’t kept us safe! We’ve never seen them here.”

  “Dragons and riders patrol the outer rim of the Grande Alps, keeping the passes free of tharuks.” Pa clutched his arm. “Something’s happened. Something terrible caused that beacon fire. You and I must be prepared. We’ll stand with Ernst and Ana and anyone else who’ll join us.”

  They reached the house, and Hans opened the door, ushering Tomaaz inside.

  Tomaaz sank into a chair by the hearth and tugged off his boots. “What made you and Ma become dragon riders?”

  Pa tossed some kindling on the hearth, and kneeled to blow on the embers. “My mother was enslaved by tharuks.” He blew again. The kindling caught, and the fire flared to life. “Dragons and riders battled to free fifty slaves. Only six survived. Most were too injured to go far. Others had been broken with numlock, their minds chained so they couldn’t run to the dragons rescuing them.” Pa tossed a small log on the fire. “My sister was one of the wounded. Whipped for defending my mother, she could only hobble. My mother ran, half dragging her, but a tharuk arrow hit Evelyn in the chest and she died in Ma’s arms.” A ragged sigh tore from Pa’s chest. “A dragon carried them both away—Evelyn to her grave, and my mother home to us.”