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

by Eileen Mueller

  “Beast move and male dies. Zens play with him.” Burnt Face laughed, his tusks gleaming in the last rays of the sun.

  Shards, the sun was setting! Pa was on the far hills. No chance of getting there, now.

  Maazini’s low growl bounced off the canyon walls. The tharuk overseer increased the tension on his bow.

  Oh gods, this was it.

  With a shout, the boy ran out of the cavern, rushing at Burnt Face. Eyes wide in surprise, the tharuk swung its bow toward the boy. No! Tomaaz closed his eyes. There was a hiss of an arrow releasing.

  No! Not the boy. Tomaaz’s eyes flew open.

  Burnt Face was toppling to the ground, an arrow embedded deep in its eye.

  Ma ran out of the cavern, her rucksack and quiver on her back, and her bow in hand. “Quick, Tomaaz! Get on Maazini! Grab the boy.”

  Tomaaz scooped up the lad, running to the dragon, and threw him up onto Maazini’s back. Ma was in bad shape, breathing hard. He gave her a leg up behind the boy, and then climbed up in front and clung to Maazini’s spinal ridge. Skinny arms wrapped tight around Tomaaz’s waist.

  “Hold on.” Tomaaz called. “Fly, Maazini, fly.”

  The hills were swarming with tharuks. Beasts were vaulting over rocks, charging down the sides of the canyon toward them.

  Tensing his haunches, the dragon sprang, flapping his wings. “I’m not so strong,” Maazini said. “Numlock, no food for weeks …”

  They slowly gained height, but Maazini was right, he wasn’t strong. The combined weight of the three of them was too much. Melded, Tomaaz could feel Maazini straining, the drag on his muscles. The tips of his wings were dangerously close to the canyon walls.

  Arrows hissed past Tomaaz. “Oh, shards, Maazini! Their arrows are limplocked. Don’t let them hit you!”

  Maazini swerved toward the opposite wall, tilting. The boy’s arms tightened around his waist. Tomaaz hung on as the chain on Maazini’s leg whipped out toward the hillside.

  With a roar, a tharuk leaped off the hill, grabbing the chain. Maazini lurched, losing height. He beat his wings desperately as they plummeted toward the canyon floor. With a roar, he strained upward. Slowly, too slowly, they gained height. Tharuk arrows zipped past them.

  Maazini grunted. Melded, Tomaaz felt his dragon’s searing pain. “Are you all right?”

  “Arrow. Chest,” Maazini replied, tipping from side to side.

  “It’s not far, just to that ridge. Pa will meet us.” But what then? How could Maazini ever make the arduous flight back to Dragons’ Hold?

  “Tomaaz, below,” came Ma’s urgent cry.

  He whipped his head around. What? Maazini lurched again. Then Tomaaz saw it. Climbing up Maazini’s chain was a tharuk, a knife between its teeth. Its red eyes gleamed as it pulled itself up the chain. “Maazini, tharuk on your chain!”

  “I … know …” Even Maazini’s thoughts sounded weak.

  §

  The tharuk was clambering up the chain, pulling the dragon off center and dragging him down. The hillsides were swarming. If she didn’t act soon, Marlies could kiss her son and Zaarusha’s goodbye, and forget about saving this slave boy, too. As soon as that tharuk slashed Maazini’s gut with his knife, it was over.

  Pushing the boy forward against Tomaaz, she urged, “Hold on tight.”

  Marlies leaned sideways, increasing the grip of her legs on the dragon’s sides. “Swing the chain, Maazini, so I can shoot,” she yelled, nocking an arrow on her bow.

  The dragon tipped. The tharuk on the chain swung out beneath her. She released the bowstring. Her arrow went wide and the tharuk swayed back under the dragon, out of sight. She nocked another arrow. The dragon was flying erratically, affected by the tharuk’s weight.

  The chain swung again. The tharuk was hanging on like a roach, climbing higher. Her next arrow missed, too.

  Gritting her teeth, she leaned out further, her injured arm screaming in protest as she fitted another arrow into her bow. The chain flew out. Holding on with one arm, the tharuk grabbed its knife from between its teeth to plunge the blade into Maazini’s belly. Marlies fired. The arrow struck the tharuk’s forehead. Maazini rocked as it plummeted to the ground.

  Marlies slipped sideways. Hands grasping at smooth scales, she plunged after the tharuk.

  §

  “No!” a scream tore from Tomaaz’s throat as Ma dropped earthward.

  Maazini dived. A whump shook Tomaaz’s teeth, then his dragon flapped, rising in the air again. “I caught your mother, but I need to land. Soon.”

  “Is she all right?”

  “I can feel her heartbeat.”

  Tharuk arrows rained around them. Maazini zigzagged back and forth up the hillside, ducking the tharuks’ shots. Zings of pain shot through Tomaaz’s mind as three more arrows met their target, lodging in Maazini’s hide. They drew level with the hilltop, in clear sight of tharuk archers.

  “Go, Maazini, go.” Tomaaz willed his friend to fly faster, higher, anywhere but here.

  An arrow zipped straight for him. Tomaaz ducked. The arrow hit Maazini’s neck. The dragon bellowed, gusting flame along the hillside, scattering the tharuks.

  Finally, they shot above the ranges, into a sky of blazing orange sunset. Tomaaz yanked the arrow out of Maazini’s neck, and ripped the sleeve off his shirt, wiping at the green grunge on the wound. Despite his efforts, limplock was rapidly dissolving into Maazini’s bloodstream. With flagging wings, Maazini made his way across Death Valley to the western range of the Terramites.

  Below, a battle horn echoed in the valley. Tharuks spewed out of the mines and caverns, racing up the hillsides. Shards, they were fast. Where was Pa? By now, Handel’s bronze form should be clearly visible. He scrabbled in his pockets for his calling stone. It wasn’t there; he’d left it with Ma. No healer’s pouch either. He clung tightly to Maazini’s spinal ridge as the dragon headed toward the watchtower.

  “Maazini, avoid the tower, it’s full of tharuks with more poison.” He shared the memory of Pa being injured.

  Maazini bellowed. “Done.” He swerved toward the hill beyond. “Can’t fly much further.”

  “Land behind that pile of rubble.”

  The battle horn rang again. Tharuks were swarming over the neighboring hills, around the watchtower. Some aimed arrows at them, but they fell short. Thankfully, none were on the hill they were heading to. But it wouldn’t take long for them to get there.

  Tomaaz strained his eyes. Where was Pa?

  “Tomaaz! I can’t hold on. My talons are cramping. I might drop your mother!”

  §

  “I have to go, Ezaara.” Deep lines etched roads of weariness in Pa’s face.

  She hugged him. He still wasn’t fully recovered, but thanks to the piaua, at least he had a fighting chance. She pulled back and looked at him again. No, he didn’t have a fighting chance. She could be sending him to his death. But how else could they save Ma and Tomaaz? “Pa, there has to be a better way. You’ll be facing hundreds of tharuks on your own.”

  He laid his hands on her shoulders, looking her straight in the eye. “We’ve been over this, Ezaara. I can get there within moments, sneak in and then bring them home. I shouldn’t be gone long at all.”

  “Zaarusha and I could come.”

  “Not with the ring, you can’t. You know that.”

  And if she rode behind Hans, there may not be space for Ma and Tomaaz, especially if Ma was injured. Ezaara shoved her fists in her pockets. “Give them my love.”

  Pa smiled. “Tell them yourself when we return.” He hugged her again and climbed onto Handel.

  “I’ll take care of them all,” Handel melded with Ezaara, letting Pa hear.

  “Please do.”

  Pa shot her a surprised glance. “You can meld with Handel, not just Zaarusha?”

  “I can meld with all dragons.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Just like Anakisha. I’ll be back soon.” He slipped a jade ring from his pocket, rubbed it and called, “Ana
.”

  With a loud snap, Pa and Handel were gone.

  Dread dogged Ezaara’s steps as she paced on the ledge. Below, dragons flew about their business, people harvested crops in the fields and gathered fruit from the orchard. Ezaara’s feet pounded out an anxious rhythm.

  Roberto arrived. “Adelina’s got a few supplies ready in the infirmary, in case they’re injured when they return.”

  He stood near her, but didn’t touch her. A dragon was flying past, carrying Lars, head of the Council of the Twelve Dragon Masters. Ezaara took a step back, distancing herself from Roberto. Lars mustn’t suspect a thing.

  “If they return,” she replied. Ezaara’s chest ached. Pa didn’t stand a chance. She’d probably just seen the last of her family.

  §

  Golden clouds surrounded Hans and Handel, making Handel’s bronze scales gleam. Strange, Handel wasn’t flapping, just hanging in midair with his wings outspread.

  “Last time, you were too sick to notice,” Handel said.

  Anakisha appeared before them. “Hello, Hans. Someone must be in grave danger for you to be traveling with the ring again so soon.”

  Hans nodded. “Marlies and my son are stranded in Death Valley. Marlies has been deathly ill.”

  “Very well.” Anakisha’s eyes were sad. “Is Death Valley your destination?” Hans kept a picture of the hill north of the watchtower in his mind. “Here,” he said. “Thank you, Anakisha.”

  Past Handel’s wingtip, a dark ripple moved through a cloud, like a fracture in an icebound lake.

  A snap rang out. Anakisha and the golden clouds disappeared.

  §

  Hans and Handel appeared in the air with a pop, behind the mountain just north of the watchtower. Handel flew cautiously, zigzagging his way up the mountainside.

  “Right, here is good, Handel. It’s only a short way to the top.”

  “I’ll take shelter behind those rocks further down,” Handel replied.

  “If you stay still, they may mistake you for a boulder.”

  Handel snorted. “Me, a rock? An inanimate lump of stone?” As Hans dismounted, Handel blew a gust of air over his head, ruffling his hair. “You’re lucky that’s not flame,” his dragon huffed.

  “That would definitely disrupt your disguise.” Hans chuckled, taking his bow and quiver from Handel’s saddlebag. “I’m good.” He scratched Handel’s snout. They’d fallen straight back into their old pre-battle banter. It used to help calm his nerves, but today was different—today he had to free his wife and son.

  Handel curled up behind the rocks, his snout at ground level so he could peep around some stones.

  “You’re right, Handel, you don’t make a fantastic rock, but if anyone gets close enough to see you, it’ll be time to fight them anyway.”

  A mental snort was Handel’s only reply.

  Hans picked his way to the crest of the hill and peered over the ridge. Like the other mountains along this end of the Terramites, there were unnatural rubble heaps on the top. Years, ago, Zens had started mining these hills. The rocks were probably the resulting debris. But why here, at the peak of the mountain? It made no sense.

  A battle horn made Hans’ blood run cold. On the next hill, tharuks were swarming the watch tower, nocking bows and firing. More tharuk archers raced along the ridges. Below, in the valley, it was mayhem. Tharuks were shooting at the sunset, but their arrows were falling back to earth, some wounding their own troops.

  Hang on, the tharuks were all firing at one point. Something orange that he’d hardly noticed against the blazing orange and gold sky.

  It was a dragon. Carrying something in its claws. Something it nearly dropped, then grabbed again at the last moment.

  “Hans!” It was Marlies, melding. “Hans, where are you? Maazini can hardly hold me.”

  Hans used his dragon sight. The dragon was struggling to hold Marlies in its talons. A rider was on its back. “Fly for the rubble pile north of the watchtower,” Hans melded. “I’m hiding here. Where’s Tomaaz?”

  The dragon pitched; Marlies’ legs slipped out of its talons. Gods, if she fell, she’d land in a writhing nest of tharuks.

  “Handel, now!” Hans yelled, racing toward his dragon.

  Handel unfurled, sprang into the air and landed nearby. Hans vaulted into the saddle. The mighty bronze’s legs bunched, and they were airborne, racing toward the orange dragon. “Meld with him, Handel.”

  “I am. He’s exhausted, malnourished and limplocked.”

  “Can he gain any height?”

  “I’ve told him to try. If he drops Marlies, we’ll swoop in and get her.”

  Shards. “Handel, can you fly faster?”

  Handel beat his wings, hard. Hans’ hair was flat against his head as they raced toward the dropping dragon. Its wings were slowing. Marlies slipped.

  She was hanging onto the dragon’s leg, dangling like a target beneath it.

  Another battle horn blew. Arrows zipped at Handel from the watchtower. He ascended above them, but the orange dragon couldn’t.

  “Can we get in low, Handel, and grab her off him?”

  “Too risky. We’ll put him off and may lose all of them. He’s barely staying in the sky as it is. We’re going to have to guide him in.”

  “Marlies, can you hang on?”

  “Hope so.”

  Belching flame at any arrows that came near, Handel flew alongside the orange dragon. The poor thing’s limbs were spasming and tail flicking erratically, but he kept flapping until they were near the rubble pile. Marlies curled her legs up as he glided over the pile, preventing them from being bashed on the rocks. Then she dropped, rolling down the slope.

  The dragon landed near her, wings draped over the ground, sides heaving. Arrows bristled from his side, dripping limplock.

  Handel landed upslope. “Maazini needs space.”

  What was Marlies doing? She’d pulled Tomaaz and a boy off the dragon and was sending them uphill. Tomaaz sped up, carrying a lad so skinny there was hardly anything to him.

  “What are you doing?” Hans asked her.

  “If Maazini can’t make it, I want Tomaaz alive. Take him home, Hans.”

  “No. Not your guilt again. You don’t have to sacrifice yourself to pay for that dragonet. Marlies, come home.” Hans helped the boy up behind him. “Hold on,” he said, wrapping the boy’s bony arms around his waist.

  “I told Zaarusha I’d save her son.”

  “How? He can’t fly.”

  “Don’t know,” Marlies said. “Something will come to me.”

  Hans gave Tomaaz an arm up. He sat behind Hans, sandwiching the boy between them. “Pa.” He was skinnier and out of breath.

  “Marlies, you fit on Handel, too.”

  “He’ll never make it with four of us. Not that far.”

  “I have a ring that helps me travel instantaneously between locations. A jade ring. Come with me. I’ll take you home.”

  “A jade ring? I have one too, etched with whorls.”

  Hans drew in his breath. Could it be true? Could there be two? He shared what the ring looked like.

  “Exactly,” Marlies replied.

  Before Hans had time to explain how the rings worked, Marlies yelled, “Hans, behind you!”

  Hans whirled.

  Tharuks poured from the rubble pile. The rubble must be a mine exit. They raised their bows. Some threw rocks.

  Hans reached for his bow, but had to duck to miss a poisoned arrow. Handel sprang into the air.

  Tharuks tugged at the rocks. With an ominous rumble, half the rubble pile seethed and crashed down the hill toward Maazini.

  “Maazini,” Tomaaz hollered.

  Maazini strained his legs. He flapped. He bunny-hopped. Rocks crashed into his hind legs as he struggled to lift off, then he was airborne, raining precious dragon blood on the heaving avalanche below.

  “It’s now or never!” Marlies melded. She screamed, jerking as an arrow hit her arm.

  Hans rubbe
d his ring. “Ana,” he called, staying melded with Marlies, providing her with a vision of Dragons’ Hold.

  “Kisha,” Marlies cried in his head.

  The two names formed a whole—Anakisha, the former Queen’s Rider.

  Reunion

  Ezaara paced in the infirmary. “Pa said he wouldn’t be long.” Because traveling with the ring held danger for the realm, she, Pa and Roberto had decided to keep the ring secret.

  “It normally takes days of flight to get there,” Adelina said.

  “Four days, actually,” Roberto mind-melded with Ezaara, before answering Adelina. “Hans will be back soon. He’s taking a shortcut.”

  If Pa made it at all. Ezaara’s chest tightened. Hopefully he wouldn’t be alone. There was so much riding on Pa’s trip. If anyone messed up, she’d lose everyone she loved. Well, nearly everyone.

  Roberto met her eyes. “Your pa has experience. He’ll bring them home.”

  Ezaara masked her fears, hiding her thoughts. Until a few weeks ago, Pa hadn’t ridden a dragon for eighteen years. What if he made an error? What if he was too late? “Shards,” she said. “Where are they?”

  “Dragon injured,” Handel’s voice was stronger than she’d expected. They must be close. “And riders, too.”

  Who? Who was hurt? “Roberto, Adelina, there are riders and a dragon hurt.”

  A whump sounded on the ledge outside the infirmary cavern, then throaty whimpers of an animal in pain.

  §

  One moment they were in Death Valley and the next they were floating above the clouds, awash in gold light. Maazini and Handel were suspended in midair without flapping, as if time stood still. A willowy transparent woman floated toward them and communicated with Ma and Pa, without words. Somehow, Tomaaz knew his parents were mind-melding with her.

  With a loud snap, they appeared above a basin ringed with sharp mountains.

  “Wel … come home.” Maazini melded, landing on a ledge below them, his wings drooping on the rock floor.

  Ma slid off Maazini’s back and staggered into a gaping cavern mouth at the back of the ledge.

  With a whump, Handel landed beside the orange dragon. Tomaaz slid down, racing to Maazini’s side.