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

by Eileen Mueller

  Now that she’d seen them, she couldn’t help but notice his arms and back as he worked. Lovina stirred the fruit tea, biting her lip. He wasn’t hers; never would be.

  Tomaaz hung a sodden blanket over the half-open entrance. “To stop anyone seeing our fire,” he explained. “The wool’s dark enough not to be noticed.” He hung the other blanket near the fire to dry and busied himself with the mugs.

  “No,” she said, taking the mugs from him awkwardly with one hand. “You sit by the fire. You’re tired and cold.”

  He protested. She’d known he would. “You looked after me before,” she said, setting the mugs on a rock. “Now it’s my turn.” She poured the water and fruit into the mugs and passed one to him.

  He smiled, inhaling the steam. “I feel warmer already.” His green eyes shone in the firelight, like those pearlescent-green Naobian seashells she’d seen in her travels.

  Like he liked her.

  But how could he? Her body would heal, but inside, she was broken beyond repair.

  §

  Cold stone floor. Glowing embers. Where was he? A scream jolted him into reality.

  Lovina! He scrambled around the fire.

  Still asleep, she took another deep breath. Gods, what if a tharuk heard her? He shook her shoulder.

  Her eyes flew open, fear contorting her face.

  “Lovina, it’s me, Tomaaz. You were having a nightmare. Sorry, I thought someone might hear you.”

  “Tomaaz?”

  He liked the way his name fell from her lips.

  She sat up. Shuddering. “I was back in Death Valley. They were beating Ma …” A sob wracked her frame, then another.

  Tomaaz stirred the embers with a stick, not sure what to do.

  She kept crying.

  He slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her tight against his side, cradling her head against his shoulder, letting her cry.

  A Nasty Surprise

  Marlies woke to the patter of drips from the ceiling. She’d been stuck in the snow cave for days. She wriggled the sword in the ventilation shaft to dislodge the loose snow. Something was different. She cocked her head. It was quiet outside; the storm had stopped.

  She threw her things in her rucksack. She had to get out of here before tharuk patrols came over from Devil’s Gate. Surely, she wasn’t that far away now. How in the Egg’s name was she going to free a captive dragon? Marlies sighed. She’d figure that out later.

  She slid her rucksack down the tunnel mouth and kicked it out of the tunnel. Marlies scrambled upright.

  A snarl sounded behind her. Whirling, she gripped her sword. Two tharuks were running down the trail at her.

  Snatching her bow and quiver off her rucksack, Marlies nocked an arrow and shot. It flew straight into a tharuk’s snout. It let out a roar of pain and clutched at the arrow, trying to yank it out. That would only make it angry. Loosing another arrow, she hit it in the head and it toppled across the track.

  But now the other tharuk was nearly on her. Marlies leaped sideways. It slashed out, catching her shoulder and upper arm. Her sword arm throbbed, the cold air stinging the gashes.

  The tharuk was on her again. Marlies cringed into the icy mountain face, cowering before the tharuk; a risky move, but a risk she’d take. As the snarling beast prowled closer, she gripped the rock and kicked out with both feet, sending the tharuk backward over the mountainside.

  Marlies landed on her backside, her blood splattering the snow. She reached into her pouch and wrapped a strip of bandage around her arm. She had to go before more troops came. Retrieving her gear, and cradling her injured arm, Marlies stepped over the dead tharuk and started up the steep slope toward Devil’s Gate.

  Weathering the Storm

  Lovina’s nightmare kept them both up, talking quietly until dawn. Only then had she fallen into an exhausted sleep by the fire. Tomaaz dozed most of the day, half an ear open for intruders.

  When he woke, he checked the snare, not expecting to find much after checking a few times the day before, but they’d been in luck. The fat buck soon ended up in the pot.

  Tomaaz stirred the rabbit stew with a stick, then threw another handful of bear leek into the pot. His stomach grumbled, protesting at the wait. They’d exhausted the cache of dried food last night before they’d fallen asleep. He gave the stew another stir.

  “It’s a starry night. I think the storm has passed.” Lovina was at the cavern mouth, peeking out the side of the blanket.

  He nodded. “We’ll leave first thing in the morning.” There wouldn’t be any fresh snow to cover his tracks outside. To stay any longer would be dangerous.

  Lovina moved back toward the fire, wincing as she walked.

  “I’ll check your arm after we’ve eaten. How’s your head?” The gash had healed well, forming a clean scab.

  She shrugged her uninjured shoulder. “My head’s fine, but if we open the bandage on my arm, it’ll probably just get dirty. It’s not as if we have clean cloths, here, or cleansing herbs.”

  “Good point. We’ll check it as soon as we’re back at the cabin.”

  He didn’t dare mention his worst fears. Pa hadn’t found them, and neither had the dragons. Each time he’d gone out yesterday to check the snare, he’d scanned the skies. Once he’d seen a distant dragon, and jumped and waved, but it hadn’t seen him. He hadn’t dared call out. Another time he’d seen a flash in the sky, but it had only been an eagle. Was Pa alive? Were the dragons still here? Or did Pa think they were dead?

  And what about Ma, traversing the realm on her own?

  Tomorrow they’d strike out and try to find the cabin, although in this vast forest, it was like seeking a thimble on the ground in a crowded marketplace. And if they found the cabin, what would they be facing? Pa’s dead remains? A slew of slaughtered tharuks? Or Pa fighting beasts? He didn’t want to burden Lovina with his worries, but if they couldn’t find the cabin, what then? They’d be stuck, far from anywhere, stranded, without adequate weapons or food.

  One step at a time. First, they’d eat, then sleep. The morning might bring new possibilities.

  Lovina brought their mugs over. “I’ve searched for bowls in that chest, but this is all we have.”

  “They’ll do fine.” Tomaaz smiled, trying to put her at ease. “Unless you want to eat straight from the pot?”

  “Without spoons or forks?”

  He poured the thick stew. They held their mugs, blowing on the steaming contents.

  Lovina’s stomach growled.

  “Sounds like a bear, sniffing out the bear leek,” Tomaaz quipped.

  She grinned. “If you’d told me two weeks ago that I’d be sitting in a cave today, free of Bill, eating rabbit stew, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

  “You’re safe now,” he said.

  “Tomaaz,” she used his name again. With her accent, it sounded so exotic.

  “I know you must’ve traveled all over with Bill, but where are you from, originally?”

  Lovina ducked her head. “Monte Vista.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Northwest of the Flatlands, near the foot of the Terramites on the very edge of the Great Spanglewood Forest.”

  Tomaaz shrugged. “I’ve heard of the Flatlands, but—”

  Lovina laughed.

  It took his breath away. Musical and clear, he couldn’t remember any other sound giving him such a light carefree feeling in his chest. He grinned. “What?”

  “Lush Valley bumpkin!”

  His grin grew wider. “Yeah, I know, I’ve never been out of Lush Valley.”

  “You’re lucky. It’s must’ve been a beautiful place to grow up.” Her smile faded. “That’ll all change now that tharuks have breached the pass.”

  “We have to stop them.”

  She nodded. “Zens’ tharuks aren’t kind, even to the littlings.”

  She’d suffered so much. She had no idea how brave she was.

  After their meal, Tomaaz took down the blanket han
ging above the fire and passed it to her. “It’s nice and warm, a little smoky, but it’ll be better than sleeping on the cold stone again.” Would she sleep tonight? Or would her nights always be plagued with the terror of remembering?

  She held the wool to her cheek. “I can’t let you sleep on bare rock.”

  “Can’t be helped. If I take down the other one, someone might see our fire. Or the smoke.” With the entrance blocked, the smoke was funneling up through fissures in the cavern roof, getting lost in the mass of stone above them.

  Lovina stared at her feet, her voice breathy. “We could share. It might help my nightmares go away.” She looked up, her forget-me-nots pleading. “Please.” Her voice quivered, a whisper sliding inside him, melting his heart.

  An ache built in his chest. “Of course,” he whispered back, stroking a strand of hair from her face. “Of course we can share.”

  They nestled near the fire, Lovina on her left side facing the flames, and Tomaaz snuggled along her back with his arm over her, careful not to bump her injured arm.

  Sharing a blanket was a lot warmer than he’d anticipated.

  Lovina hummed the melody she’d been singing while drawing him yesterday.

  He propped himself up on one arm so he could see her properly. “Is that a Flatlander song?”

  “Yesterday, I remembered Ma singing me this song when I was a littling.” She rolled onto her back, smiling up at him. “I’m starting to remember things, Tomaaz.”

  Her hair gleamed in the firelight, all coppery hues, honey and burnished browns. Gods, she was beautiful. He lowered his head toward her, breathing in her warmth.

  Then they were kissing.

  §

  Tomaaz’s arms closed around Lovina, gentle with her injured arm, warm and reassuring. He’d come to mean so much to her, so fast.

  His kisses trailed across her cheek, to her nose, her eyelids. “Brave,” he murmured. “So brave and beautiful.”

  She’d never felt this. Never felt treasured. Never felt home.

  §

  In the wee hours, while the embers were still glowing, Lovina’s sobs woke Tomaaz. “It’s all right, Lovina, I’m here.” Cradling her back, he curled around her.

  Her cries subsided and she sighed in her sleep, her now-serene face lit by the glow of the embers.

  He held her gently, careful of her injuries. She was precious, fragile but resilient. Beautiful, strong and vulnerable. Her trust was sacred, treasure to him. He’d do his best to protect her.

  He propped himself on an arm, watching the cave entrance, keeping her safe while she slept.

  §

  Sunlight filtered through the flapping blanket, waking Tomaaz. It was hanging on an angle. Half of it had come down in the night, but it didn’t matter, because they were leaving soon. He’d meant to rise earlier.

  Wonder unfurled inside Tomaaz. His presence affected Lovina so deeply. His feelings meant so much to her, and hers to him. It was like unwrapping a gift and finding more than you’d expected.

  And knowing you’d discover more each day.

  The moment he stood, he missed her warmth. He tucked the blanket around her and stretched. There wasn’t much point in making a fire. They had nothing to eat and weren’t staying, and they could drink from a stream on the way. The water would be cold, but with the storm over, as long as they kept moving, they’d be warm enough.

  While Lovina was asleep, Tomaaz changed back into his own clothes, the air warmer today, and repacked what he’d borrowed into the chest. He’d brought enough wood in yesterday to replace what they’d used, but couldn’t do much about the food. Shrugging, he packed the mugs away and stood the pot on the cold fireplace. He donned his cloak.

  There was nothing else to do except wake Lovina so she could get ready.

  They needed to find their way back through the forest to the cabin. No small task. Shoving dreadful thoughts of Pa’s fate out of his mind, he knelt by Lovina and kissed her cheek. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

  She turned to him, smiling.

  Was the stupid grin ever going to leave his face? He hoped not.

  He helped Lovina up and passed her clothing to her, and she made her way to the rear of the cavern.

  While she dressed, he strode to the cave mouth to take down the blanket. The trees below were bathed in sunlight and most of the snow had thawed. The goat track was now a trickling stream, edged in white. By tomorrow no one would know the storm had blown through.

  Although he doubted he’d ever forget.

  After scanning the sky for dragons, Tomaaz ducked back inside, twisting the blankets into snakes and tying them around his stomach, making sure he could still draw his sword.

  Lovina approached.

  He tucked her borrowed clothes back in the chest. Now that he was getting to know her, Tomaaz couldn’t imagine life without Lovina, but he didn’t want to scare her. With Dragons’ Realm in upheaval and his family splintered, neither of them knew what the future would bring. He’d wait, perhaps talk to her later, when they were at Dragons’ Hold.

  Tomaaz took Lovina’s hand and they left the cave. “The track’s slippery; lean on me.” The last thing he wanted was for Lovina to fall on her injured arm.

  A furry mass hurtled toward them down the side of the cliff.

  “Ambush! Back to the cave!” Tomaaz yelled, thrusting Lovina up the track.

  He whipped his sword out, dodging the tharuk as it landed downhill, where he’d just been. The beast jumped to its feet, tusks trailing saliva. A tracker.

  Another tharuk appeared between him and the cave. A furrow of mud showed where it’d been hiding, further up the bank.

  A familiar voice sent a chill down Tomaaz’s spine. “You two deal with him.” Bill jumped out of the bush by the cave mouth, grabbing Lovina. He gestured at the blanket around Tomaaz’s waist. “Thank you for the flag you left flapping in the wind. If it wasn’t for that, I wouldn’t have noticed your hideout.”

  Tomaaz had let his guard down.

  Lovina kicked Bill’s shins. Hard.

  Bill grabbed her hair. She screamed, thrashing and punching, as he dragged her into the cavern.

  “No!” Tomaaz rushed up the track, the tharuk barreling toward him.

  Behind him, the tracker swiped. Tomaaz ran uphill, but there was nowhere to go. Pa had always said to fight smart, not hard, so Tomaaz whirled.

  The tracker snorted, a huge globule of saliva flying off its tusks, and charged again. Right before impact, Tomaaz dropped into a crouch and sprung up, driving his sword into the beast’s armpit. It roared and cuffed him across the head.

  Reeling, Tomaaz stumbled, catching himself before he toppled off the cliff edge. He had to get past the other tharuk to Lovina. Tomaaz scrambled out of the tracker’s way and raced toward the furry brute.

  There was a shriek. Tomaaz’s blood ran cold. “Lovina!”

  Then the tharuk was upon him in a flurry of tusks and claws. He dodged. Ducked. Rammed his blade up toward the tharuk’s throat. But the beast got him first, slashing his temple. Blood ran into his eye.

  “Bleed,” the monster snarled.

  Temple throbbing, Tomaaz feinted, then leaped under the brute’s arm, driving his blade into the side of its neck. The monster dropped. With a sucking sound, he yanked his blade out.

  A bellow sounded from behind.

  He ran up the slope, the tracker hard on his heels.

  A thunderous roar shook the air and a whoosh of flame shot out of the sky. Dragons! Flaming the tracker! A stinking fog of burned fur roiled up the trail, enveloping Tomaaz as he made the top of the goat track and plunged into the cavern.

  For a moment, it was too dark to see. A shove sent Tomaaz sprawling. Bill ran out the entrance.

  Tomaaz got up, about to pursue him. No, he had to find Lovina.

  She was at the back of the cavern, slumped below the boulder, her blood splattered over their picture. Her cheek was gashed. She was pale, her breath shuddering. Tomaaz scooped
her up, cradling her against him, and carried her into the light.

  “Lovina, Lovina.” His throat was raw.

  Her eyes fluttered. “Tomaaz?”

  “It’s me. I’ve got you.” He propped her up near the cave entrance on the dry stone floor and examined her wound. The edges were tinged with green grunge. Bill’s blade had been dirty.

  Tomaaz slashed a strip of blanket with his sword and dashed outside to wet it in a clean patch of snow. Handel and Liesar were blasting flame between the trees below.

  Lovina hissed through clenched teeth as he touched her cut with the icy cloth.

  “Bill’s knife was dirty. I’ve got to get the shrot out of your wound.”

  Lovina grimaced.

  That stubborn dirt was mixing with her blood, traces of green spreading through the cut. Tomaaz tried his best to clean it, but couldn’t get it all out. “You need healing salve and a bandage. I’ll be right back.”

  Standing at the top of the goat track, Tomaaz cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed for all he was worth, “Liesar! Liesar!”

  The silver dragon wheeled, flying toward him. Thank the Egg, she was still wearing her saddlebags. She landed on the goat track, in a slushy splash, perching on the edge. The ground threatened to crumble under her weight, so Liesar kept her wings out, flapping to keep balance.

  Ducking under her wing, Tomaaz used the straps to scramble up her side and open the saddlebag. “Healing salve, needle, squirrel gut and bandages. Lovina’s hurt.” He didn’t have time to put his hand on Liesar’s head and mind-meld with her, but she gave a displeased rumble, letting him know what she thought of Bill.

  The moment he had what he needed, Liesar flew down to the forest.

  Tomaaz smeared Lovina’s cut with healing salve and pulled the edges together with a few stitches, glad Ma had insisted he learn some of her craft. If only they had piaua juice … Never mind, he loved Lovina with every one of her scars and this scar would be no different.

  Except that he was partly responsible for this one. “I’m sorry, Lovina. I should’ve kept watch. I should’ve thought—”

  She pressed a finger to his lips. “Hush.” Her eyes drifted shut.

  In the end, it was trickier than he’d thought to put a bandage over her cheek. He had to wrap it right around her head. It looked terrible, but it would keep her wound clean while it healed.