“Please, please, no.” Her voice caught. She rubbed her hands against the shell, willing the dragonet to move.
But there was only silence.
Stillness.
Nothing beneath her hands.
Marlies’ mouth opened and shut. With a strangled sob, she fled.
Lush Valley
Tomaaz adjusted the sack of potatoes on his shoulder and stepped over a wayward chicken. He frowned. What was Lofty up to? In a corner of the crowded marketplace, Lofty had his head together with Old Bill and the pair of them were grinning like thieves. Rather Lofty than him. He didn’t want to go near Old Bill. The only decent thing about him was his cloth—bolts of bright turquoise seascapes, blazing-gold-and-orange birds and strange creatures and plants—transported into Lush Valley from far over the Grande Alps. From exotic places Tomaaz had never been, like Naobia on the southern coast, Montanara or Spanglewood Forest.
One day he and Lofty would leave this valley and explore those far-off places. It’s not like he planned to lug Pa’s vegetables around for the rest of his life.
Old Bill shook Lofty’s hand, while beside them, Bill’s drab daughter was lost among the bright cloth, staring at her feet. That was nothing new. Lovina was always staring at the floor. Tomaaz had never heard her mumble more than a word or two. Oh well, he had more exciting things to do than keep an eye on Lofty.
Like delivering potatoes.
Tomaaz dodged a bunch of children playing tag, and headed for the baker’s stall, passing over the sack. “These should be good for your potato patties, Pieter,” he said. “Pa’s given you our best.”
“As always.” Pieter chuckled, and carried the potatoes to his cart.
“Thank you,” said Beatrice, Pieter’s daughter, flashing a smile, then ducking her head.
Inhaling the aroma of pastries and pies, Tomaaz smiled back at her. With Pieter distracted, it was now or never. He raked a hand through his unruly blond curls. “Beatrice, would you like to go for a walk? Later? I—I mean, after you’ve finished?”
“I’d love to. I can bring you an apricot pastry if you’d like.” Beatrice gazed up at him through her red lashes. “I made them myself.”
Red. Even her lashes were red. And her cheeks now, too. Tomaaz grinned. Asking her had been worth the gamble—she liked him. “Thanks. I’ll come by after we’ve packed up.”
Her smile lit her eyes, making his day.
Humming, Tomaaz strode through the marketplace past Klaus’ leatherwear stand. The enticing aroma of cheese melted on slabs of bread made his stomach grumble.
Whistling nonchalantly, Lofty fell into step with him.
Tomaaz rolled his eyes. “Come on, Lofty. Tell me, what were you and Old Bill up to?”
“Nothing.” Lofty gave him that innocent look of his. “Just ordering more silk for Ma’s scarves.”
“Of course you were.” Tomaaz snorted. They skirted a goat pen and wandered past a weapons stand, stopping to admire a knife.
“Such a beauty,” Lofty said, weighing the knife in his hand. “But way too expensive.” Suddenly, Lofty dropped the knife, sucking in his breath. “There she is. Across the square.”
Lofty had a sixth sense when it came to Tomaaz’s sister. Like a homing pigeon, he always knew where she was. It’d been moons since Lofty had admitted to Tomaaz that he liked his twin sister. And Lofty had been trying to catch Ezaara’s eye ever since—usually failing.
“You’re not going to tease Ezaara again, are you?” Tomaaz asked, shaking his head.
“No, you are!” Lofty beamed. “I’ve hit upon the perfect plan. You challenge her to a sword fight, and I’ll swoop in and save her. She’ll finally see me as a hero.”
“I doubt it.”
“Go on, do it for me.” Lofty was eager, like a bird bouncing on its perch. “I’ve got to try something.”
Tomaaz hesitated. “Here in the square? Feathers will fly if Klaus catches us.”
“Beatrice will be watching.”
Tomaaz hesitated. Lofty had him. “All right, but if this doesn’t work, promise me you won’t cook up any more mad schemes.”
“I promise.” Lofty’s solemn look didn’t fool Tomaaz one bit. “Come on,” he said, “it’s just a bit of fun.”
Tomaaz led Lofty further away from Klaus’ stall—there was no point in asking for trouble. They trailed Ezaara as she examined plaited onions and garlic wreaths.
“Go on, now,” Lofty urged, “before Ezaara notices us.”
Beatrice had a good view from here. It was as good a time as any. Tomaaz slid his sword out of its scabbard. The scrape cut through the buzz in the market square.
Ezaara spun, dropping her basket. In a heartbeat, her sword was in her hand, her blade gleaming in the sun.
She’d always had good reactions. People backed out of the way, clearing a ring around Tomaaz and his sister. He lunged, striking fast. Ezaara parried, then feinted, but it didn’t fool him. He pressed forward with a series of quick strokes, driving her back toward an apple cart.
“Take five to one for Tomaaz,” Lofty yelled among the clink of coppers.
That idiot! Betting against Ezaara wasn’t going to win her over. Tomaaz lunged again. That was close, he’d nearly scratched her face. That wouldn’t impress Beatrice or Ezaara. He thrust again, but Ezaara danced out of reach, then lunged back at him.
She must’ve been practicing. Her counterattacks were coming hard and fast. Tomaaz blocked with power, driving his sword against hers. Dodging, Ezaara bumped Bill’s table and bolts of cloth went flying. She leaped over them, fleeing.
Tomaaz chased her.
She whirled to face him, blade high. “Seen any pretty girls today? Look, there’s one behind you.”
If she’d seen him talking to Beatrice, he’d never hear the end of it. Ignoring her jibe, he deflected her sword and attacked again. When was Lofty going to jump in? This wasn’t supposed to go on so long. And surely Beatrice had seen enough by now?
“Any more bets?” Lofty called to the onlookers. He seemed more interested in taking coin than rescuing Ezaara.
Ezaara was slowing, tiring. Maybe that’s what Lofty was waiting for. Tomaaz slashed his blade at his sister’s torso.
Ezaara stumbled, landing on her knee. “Ow!”
Oh gods, hopefully he hadn’t hurt her. “Ezaara, are you all right?”
Driving her sword under his arm, Ezaara tapped his shirt. “I did it!” she cried, leaping to her feet. “I beat you.”
Whistles and yells erupted around them. She’d fooled him, but it was a fair win.
“Go, Ezaara!” Lofty called.
She was beaming.
Maybe Lofty’s strategy, whatever it was, would work today.
Tomaaz glanced toward the baker’s stand. Beatrice wasn’t there. All this for nothing. Oh well, at least they were going for a walk together, later. For now, he had to make Ezaara feel good about her win.
“Aagh, beaten,” he groaned, sheathing his sword, and wiping sweat from his brow.
“You chose to fight me here.” Ezaara’s eyes blazed.
She’d fought well.
Grinning, she stepped back, sliding her sword into her scabbard.
Around them, coppers changed hands. He caught a glimpse of Beatrice on the edge of the crowd, smiling at him. Tomaaz’s chest swelled with pride. She had seen him fight. And it looked as if she was glad for Ezaara’s win, too. Not only was Beatrice beautiful, she was kind-hearted.
Lofty clapped Tomaaz on the back. Then he kissed Ezaara, right on the lips. What? That wasn’t what they’d agreed. The crowd oohed.
Old Bill nudged his way forward and gave Lofty a handful of grimy coppers.
Lofty punched his fist in the air.
That’s what they’d been up to! Rigging the fight to make money. And probably betting Lofty would kiss Ezaara. Lofty hadn’t had a chance to rescue Ezaara because she’d won in her own right, but he’d still embarrassed her. Ezaara would never fall for Lofty like that. Why
couldn’t he see it?
Yep, Ezaara’s cheeks were flaming. And not from passion. She was mortified—and as mad as a bear with a toothache.
People scattered as Klaus barreled through the crowd. “Is that those twins again?” With a bellow like an ox, a girth to match a draft horse, and even taller than Lofty, Klaus was the settlement’s arbitrator. “What’s going on?”
“I’m off to get that knife.” Lofty thrust a handful of coppers at Tomaaz and slunk away. Typical—always the first to plan trouble and the last to get blamed for it. But Lofty’s adventurous streak appealed to Tomaaz. No one else here was half as fun.
Beatrice gave Tomaaz a wave and headed back to her pastries.
“Tomaaz! Ezaara!” Klaus faced them off, hands on hips.
Tomaaz pocketed the coins and squared his shoulders. People were staring at them, but he didn’t care. Beatrice had seen him fight. “It’s my fault,” he said. “I challenged Ezaara.”
“In the middle of the marketplace?” Klaus snapped. “You could have taken out a littling’s eye.”
“Our tips were corked and the blades aren’t sharpened,” Ezaara defended. “See?” She passed him her sword.
Klaus ran his thumb and forefinger along Ezaara’s blade. “It doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t—”
“She tricked Tomaaz,” Old Bill called out. “Fighting sneaky, like a dragon rider.”
Why was Bill bringing dragon riders into this? The fool. Any mention of dragons was bound to get Klaus riled up.
Klaus spun on Bill. “If I hear you mention those filthy winged reptiles and their stinking riders again, you’ll be getting acquainted with our jail.”
Bill glowered.
Klaus stabbed his finger on Tomaaz’s chest. “No fighting in the marketplace.”
“Sorry, sir, it won’t happen again.” Tomaaz inclined his head. One day, he’d be free from Klaus’ silly restrictions. One day, he’d see dragons for himself.
“They knocked over my cloth,” Old Bill protested.
“Help Bill tidy up.” Flinging them a stern glare, Klaus strode off.
Old Bill rubbed his hands together. “So, kissed by Lofty, eh?”
Tomaaz stared at Bill in disgust. “I can’t believe you put Lofty up to that. I mean, he’s liked her for ages, and now he’s blown it. There’s no way my sister’s going to like him back now.”
Ezaara rolled her eyes. “Would you two stop talking about me as if I’m not here?”
They’d cheapened Ezaara with those filthy coppers—and she had enough problems with her self-confidence already. Tomaaz tried to make light of it. “Come on, Bill, you should’ve bet Lofty a silver.”
It didn’t work. Ezaara turned her back on him and dumped a roll of cloth on Old Bill’s trestle table. Bill’s daughter, Lovina, ignored them all, her filmy gray eyes examining the frayed stitching on her tattered boots. Boots so fascinating, she’d probably missed the whole sword fight. Tomaaz tossed the remaining bolts on the table and left.
Walking a little straighter as he approached Beatrice’s stand, he winked at her. Despite Klaus’ bollocking, today was shaping up nicely. He passed Beatrice a copper. “I’d like a potato patty, please.” Tomaaz grinned at Beatrice, whose cheeks pinked. Now, that was the way to make a girl blush, not by embarrassing her in front of a crowd.
As he took the patty from Beatrice, their fingers brushed, sending a thrill through him. Tomaaz’s heart thrummed. He was loathe to go, but didn’t have a reason to stay. So, he turned away, biting into his patty, savoring the salty cheese and paprika.
Ezaara was still hanging around the cloth stall. Old Bill was leaning over his trestle table, shoving something into her hands. She glanced around furtively. Then, cradling her palms, she stared down, face full of wonder.
What was he showing her? Bill was very interested in Ezaara today. Tomaaz ground the now tasteless patty between his teeth. One of Bill’s customers bumped Ezaara and she shoved the object back at Bill and hurried away.
Scoffing the last of his patty, Tomaaz rushed after her, but the next moment, Lofty was there.
“Hey, Maaz, look at my knife. It’s a real beauty.”
The handle was bone, carved with interwoven vines. Tomaaz let out a low whistle. “Nice.”
Lofty weighed it in his palm. “And it’s beautifully weighted. Here, try.” Lofty held the knife as if he was about to throw it.
“Watch it,” said Tomaaz. “I don’t want Klaus over here again.” He took the blade. “Feels good. That should improve your aim.”
Lofty nudged him, crowing. “At least, that’s one thing I can do better than you!”
“True.” Tomaaz passed the blade back, and Lofty rushed off to show someone else as Ezaara came out from behind the cooper’s stall.
“There you are.” Tomaaz approached her. “I was looking for you.”
“Marco got a bleeding nose from Paolo.”
Tomaaz rolled his eyes. “Those two again.” The boys were always getting into scrapes.
“Now you sound like Klaus.” Ezaara grinned. “They don’t know the sharp end of a sword from a hilt, and Paolo swings way too hard. We should teach them.”
“Good idea,” Tomaaz said, tugging Ezaara toward their parents’ produce stall. “Now, what was Bill showing you, on the quiet?”
Glancing around again, Ezaara whispered, “Cloth—speckled with dragons of gold and bronze.”
“Contraband cloth? Lucky Klaus didn’t catch you.” What was Bill’s game? “Be careful. Old Bill’s bad news.”
Ezaara’s face was filled with longing. “Even if dragons are evil, the fabric was beautiful.”
Tomaaz wrinkled his nose as they passed a pen of piglets. “Lofty says dragons are honored beyond the Grande Alps.” Dare he tell her? Might as well. “One day, I’m going to look for myself.”
She elbowed him, hard. “Someone will hear you.”
“So what? I’m not going to live here forever, you know.”
Her eyes flew wide. “You’d leave us?”
Tomaaz blew out his cheeks. “Don’t know. Maybe.”
Ezaara frowned. “That’s why Lofty’s ma wanted owl-wort—you and Lofty are planning to go tonight, right?”
Tomaaz laughed. “If only!”
“If you ever leave, take me with you.” Ezaara’s voice was fierce.
“All right.” Tomaaz cuffed her arm. “But no running off without me, either.”
“Never,” Ezaara swore. They bumped knuckles, sealing their vow.
When they reached their family stall, Ma sent Ezaara off to gather more herbs in the forest. “I’ll duck home and get some flatbread on the hearth before the fire’s dead,” she said.
Pa brushed his dark curls back from his forehead. “We’ve sold out sooner than I thought. How about a dip, Tomaaz?”
“Sounds great,” Tomaaz replied. Good thing too: the coating of dust and grime he was wearing would ruin the impression he’d made on Beatrice. She was the prettiest girl in Lush Valley. For many moons, he’d been working up the courage to ask her out. Thank the gods, Lofty had dared him earlier, otherwise he’d still be wondering whether she’d say yes.
“Not so fast,” Pa said. “First, take this last sack of carrots to the smithy.”
Tomaaz wasn’t in a hurry—Beatrice and Pieter always took their leftovers to the bedridden and widows after the market. And he didn’t want to seem too eager to get clean—his family would tease the hair from his head if he told them he was seeing a girl.
“Sure, Pa.” He shouldered the carrots and headed to the smithy. How many sacks would he haul and how many carrots would he harvest before he had a real adventure? Probably hundreds. Thousands. Tomaaz sighed, trudging away.
§
Hans floated on his back in the warm water. He and Marlies had discovered this swimming hole years ago, when they’d first arrived in Lush Valley and settled on their farm near the forest. It was his favorite place to bathe.
His son was scrubbing at his curls wi
th more vigor than usual.
Hans raised an eyebrow at Tomaaz. “Going somewhere special later?”
“Just off for a walk.”
Hans couldn’t help grinning. Did Tomaaz think he was a fool? He’d taken so long delivering those potatoes, and it hadn’t only been that sword fight with Ezaara that had delayed him. And he’d been as jaunty as a songbird when he’d returned. “I know market day’s a welcome break, but tomorrow, we’ll need to get back to harvest, Son.”
“I know.” Tomaaz dived under, then popped up, floating on his back, too.
Laughing, Hans waded ashore and dried himself. “Come on, we’ve got stock to feed before you go off on your walk.” He pursed his lips, blowing Tomaaz a kiss.
“Hey!” Tomaaz swept his arm across the river’s surface, spraying him. “You can feed the stock yourself, just for that!”
Hans laughed and tugged his clothes on. Marlies’ flatbread and soup might be ready by the time they returned. He bent to tie his boots.
Was that a tingle in his chest? After all these years?
He’d never had that feeling since living here. He scanned the sky—as he had done every day since they’d settled in Lush Valley. The tingling grew stronger, pulsing across his ribs. The range and focus of his vision extended.
There, a flash in the distant sky. Moments later, he saw another.
Keeping his voice casual, Hans addressed his son, “Want a race through the forest to the clearing?”
Still in the river, Tomaaz grinned. “The loser cleans the dinner bowls?”
“You’re on.” Hans took off.
“Hey,” Tomaaz called, splashing out of the water behind him. “Not fair!”
Hans threw caution to the wind, racing ahead.
The power in his chest intensified and he sped forward, leaping logs, charging through the forest. Liquid fire sang in his veins.
With his enhanced dragon sight, Hans recognized the mighty multi-hued dragon approaching from the north. The dragon was circling down toward … there, through the trees … his daughter! Shards! Zaarusha, the dragon queen, was coming for Ezaara!
No!
An eye for an eye, but this was crazy. If he could get there in time, perhaps he could reason with the dragon queen. He raced through the forest to the sacred clearing.
Riders of Fire Complete Series Box Set books 1-6: YA Epic Fantasy Dragon Rider Adventures Page 32
