Riders of Fire Complete Series Box Set books 1-6: YA Epic Fantasy Dragon Rider Adventures

by Eileen Mueller

  Mouth watering, Marlies took a bite. “Oh, this is good,” she gestured at the plate. “How much woozy weed did you give the tracker?”

  “A double dose, but it only drank half.”

  “That might not be enough. I’ll need to leave early. What’s the fastest way over the pass?”

  “The pass isn’t the fastest route. Urs and I discovered a tunnel. It’ll cut half a day off your journey and stop any crows or tharuks from spying on you.”

  “Sounds good. Where is it?” She dipped bread into her gravy.

  “The entrance is above the tree line, behind a boulder shaped like a sitting dog. You’ll see it as you emerge from the forest. We keep supplies in the first alcove on the right, and from there, you’d have a clear line of sight to the entrance. That is, if you can still shoot an arrow straight?” Nick’s mouth twitched in a grim smile, his scar tugging at the corner.

  “Of course I can, assuming I get out of here alive.”

  “Well, yes.”

  A big assumption, given the beasts downstairs and their infamous bloodlust.

  §

  Marlies sat up in bed, nerves jangling. Something had woken her. She cocked her head, but couldn’t hear anything. The stench of tharuk slunk into her room. Slipping out of bed and into her boots, she snatched up her dagger and positioned herself behind the door.

  A floorboard creaked. Someone shuffled along the hall. Then light footsteps came bounding up the stairs.

  “Oh, there you are, sir,” Nick’s voice echoed down the corridor.

  A low growl made the hairs on Marlies’ arms rise.

  “The kitchen’s along this way, sir. I apologize, I know this place is a terrible maze, but you’ll get used to it eventually.” Nick was prattling like a typical innkeeper, distracting the beast. “Wait until you see what we have on the menu—eggs, chicken, fried potatoes. I can make something else if you’d like.” Although his light footsteps were accompanied by heavier ones down the stairs, the stink still lingered.

  No one would be safe until these beasts were destroyed. If she escaped, what would they do to Nick and his family? She couldn’t have any more innocent deaths on her conscience. Marlies pulled the creaking window open and tossed her rucksack outside. Palming her dagger, she opened the door and slipped into the hall. She made her way to the top of the stairs and slid noiselessly down the wooden banister. As she landed, the tharuk spun. Marlies ducked under its slashing claws and plunged her knife into its throat. The tharuk slumped to the floor.

  Another tharuk barreled down the hallway. “You!” it snarled, red eyes glinting as it raced after her.

  Flinging the taproom door open, Marlies called to Nick, “Take your family and flee.” Fangs! There was another one in here, sleeping. Marlies raced through the room. The beast lumbered to its feet, springing at her. She flung a chair through the window, spraying glass, then vaulted onto the table. The tharuk swiped, snagging its claws on the edge of her cloak. She yanked the fabric free, ripping a corner, and jumped out the window. Shaking the glass off her rucksack, Marlies grabbed her bow and quiver.

  The tharuk thrust its pig-shaped snout out the window, grasped jagged glass shards and broke them off. Gripping the ledge with its claws, it surged out.

  Marlies ran.

  The snarling beast pounded after her.

  She plunged into the forest. Growls ricocheted among the trees. What had she been thinking? She’d be dead in no time. Legs and arms pumping, Marlies raced. There, that knoll—if she could get a little height she’d be able to shoot. Scrambling up the hillock, she turned, nocking an arrow, and shot. Too wide. She nocked again. This time her arrow went through the tharuk’s eye. Its roar cut off mid-bellow and it fell, black blood gushing over its snout.

  The third one would be on her scent at any moment. Marlies fled up the slope, bashing her way through bushes until she found a trail. Roars echoed from below. It was coming.

  §

  One underling was dead and another was barging through the forest to head off the dark-haired female. 458 shook its head and roared. There were better ways to deal with humans. It hacked the hand off the dead underling, tattooed wrist and all, and tucked the hand into its pocket. The tracker stomped along the hallway. The innkeeper chose that moment to step into the hall. Perfect. Grabbing the innkeeper in a throttle hold, the tharuk squeezed.

  The man’s eyes bulged with fear and his throat gurgled.

  “Hah, little human. You were hiding the woman. Who is she? Where is she going?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “No, I don’t know.” 458 tightened his hold. “But you do.”

  The innkeeper’s face grew pale, and his eyelids fluttered. Although the angry burn in 458’s blood demanded quenching, killing this cur was not the answer. The tracker slackened his grip, so the man could speak. “Talk, or your children will die.”

  That worked. The man squawked, “I—I’ve never seen her before. I have no idea where she’s going or who she is.”

  458 dropped the human and ran outside. There was only one way over these mountains: the female would be heading for the pass. 458—swifter than other tharuks—raced for the mountainside. It couldn’t track its quarry because it hadn’t been able to scent anything since three days ago, when up in the pass, that dragon had burned its snout. Stinking dragon scum.

  §

  Clutching his aching throat, Nick raced to the kitchen, croaking for Urs. His son appeared, an axe in his white-knuckled grip.

  “No, Urs, don’t fight them. This is only the beginning. More will come. Esmeralda and the littlings are shoving supplies into the cart. Go, harness the horses. We’re leaving.”

  “But those—”

  “Just go.” Nick indicated his scar, the thick rope that had tugged at his face and throat. “Quick! Go!” Urs knew what tharuks had done to him and Urs’ mother, Lisa, his deceased first wife. May her soul soar with departed dragons.

  Urs ran out the back door.

  Nick wrenched a board off the pantry wall and retrieved his pouch of coins. Ducking into the bedrooms, he snatched up an armful of quilts and ran to the stables.

  Urs was fastening the last harness. “Da, I found that woman’s horse, and sent it back to Lush Valley.”

  “Thank you, Son.” Nick flung the quilts in the back, where his wife and littlings were seated. “Lie down and stay still,” he urged the littlings. Esmeralda threw the quilts over them.

  Nick and Urs jumped onto the box seat. Nick snapped the reins.

  When they made it to the ring road, he glanced up at the mountainside. The tharuk was a furlong below dog rock. Marlies was nowhere to be seen, but she was up there, all right. She’d been wearing one of Master Giddi’s mage cloaks, which helped her blend in with her surroundings.

  “Pa, look.” Urs pointed.

  Marlies appeared, just below the tunnel.

  The tharuk surged upward.

  Nick breathed a sigh of relief. That hadn’t been an accident. Marlies had deliberately shown herself, luring the tracker on to buy his family time to escape. He touched his scar. He owed her his life—again.

  §

  Marlies ran into the tunnel. Not wasting precious moments to let her eyes adjust, she patted the right wall until she found the alcove, and went inside. There were Nick’s supplies. But, from here, with light glaring from the cave mouth, she wouldn’t see her enemy well.

  She moved down the tunnel, finding another alcove. Here, she’d be able to see the tharuk in the dim without blinding herself. Marlies dumped her rucksack, nocked her bow and waited.

  A faint scrape sounded outside the tunnel. Goosebumps skimmed her arms. It was coming.

  If only Hans were here, he’d use his dragon sight to look through the rock, and mind-meld so she could see. Heart thumping, Marlies drew back her bowstring.

  Another scrape. The light at the entrance was blotted out for a moment. There was a snuffle. The beast was inside, hovering around the cave entrance. It went straight
to the first alcove. She’d taken freshweed in the forest, so it couldn’t have scented her. Had Nick betrayed her? As she positioned her bow, the end scraped the wall. The tharuk tensed, then charged.

  Shards, did it have night vision?

  Marlies let an arrow fly. It bounced off the beast’s armored vest. Too low. She nocked again and aimed at its forehead. The tharuk instinctively ducked and the arrow hit its arm.

  The beast bellowed, its roars reverberating in the tunnel. The tracker lunged, claws out, its rot smothering her. Dropping her bow, Marlies drew her sword. As the tracker lunged again, she rammed the sword at its belly. But the sword bounced off armor.

  Marlies struck again, a glancing blow off the monster’s neck. The tharuk swiped, just missing her face. She danced out of reach. This couldn’t go on forever—sooner or later it would kill her. Her foot hit the wall behind her. Trapped!

  “Stupid human,” the tharuk gloated. “I got you now.”

  Marlies leaped toward the beast, taking it by surprise, and rammed her sword upward into the soft flesh under its chin. The beast staggered, clutching at her blade. Using her weight, she drove the sword into its skull. She let go, kicking the beast in the stomach, and it fell, arms flailing, onto the stone. The tharuk twitched a few times, then lay still. Marlies palmed her dagger and leaned against the wall, catching her breath, waiting to see if it moved.

  She counted a hundred heartbeats, then placed her foot on the beast’s shoulder to tug her sword free. Slick with her enemy’s blood, her boot slipped a little. It was dead, all right. After cleaning her sword on the beast’s fur, she dragged the tracker into the alcove and grabbed her rucksack and bow, taking a moment to put a few of the beast’s poisoned arrows into her quiver. She had to get a move on.

  Nipping along to Nick’s alcove, she looked inside and found food, water, and, of all the luck, dragon’s breath, a rare mountain flower. When shaken, the petals emitted a soft glow. Thank the Egg, Nick was resourceful. She put half a dozen vials in her rucksack, and taking some twine, shook a vial, then bound it to her forehead. Tucking a couple of dried apples in her pockets, she took a swig of water from one of Nick’s waterskins.

  As she stepped out of Nick’s alcove, rustling wings filled the tunnel. Bats? No, birds, from outside. Crows cawed, diving at her, talons out, sharp beaks pecking at her face. Grabbing her sword, Marlies swung it in an arc, knocking a bird to the ground. She yelled, swinging wildly and stomping.

  The birds left in a swarm, dark shadows against the light as they fled.

  Her dragon’s breath light casting sinister shapes on the wall, Marlies ran deeper into the tunnel. It was only a matter of time before those crows reported her presence to other tharuks, or even to Zens himself.

  Trapped

  Marlies jammed the toe of her boot into a crevice and pulled. A few more handholds and she’d be out of this endless vertical shaft. Thank the Egg, she’d kept up her training, often journeying into the Grande Alps to keep her mountaineering skills sharp. Half the reason they’d trained Tomaaz and Ezaara in combat and archery was to keep their own skills honed—and because one day, she and Hans had hoped to ride their dragons with their family at their sides.

  Mind you, she’d never see Liesar again if she lost her grip and plummeted to the bottom of this chimney. And it had been years. Every day she and Hans had lived in Lush Valley, they’d missed their dragons, trying to bury their grief in Lush Valley life. It had never been enough.

  Marlies clambered out and sat, legs dangling over the black hole. Peering down, her light only illuminated a tiny part of what she’d just climbed. She sipped water and munched on flatbread and dried beef. It’d been four days since Ezaara had disappeared from Lush Valley, so she’d have arrived at Dragons’ Hold yesterday. How was she finding it? Shards, she should have prepared her daughter better, should have taught her in dragon lore and protocol. She’d failed as a mother and a rider.

  Sighing, she pulled her rucksack on and trudged upward, rounding a corner. Was it her imagination, or was it getting lighter ahead?

  Around the next corner, it was lighter—the exit was near. She drew her sword, and made her way stealthily toward a cavern. The exit was half-obscured by bushes, light filtering through their foliage. A breeze wafted across Marlies’ neck. She turned. Behind, in the left wall, there was a narrow aperture. Marlies stole over and squeezed through, dragging her rucksack in after her. Narrow steps led upward, giving her barely enough space to get through. She ascended, her sword at the ready.

  The steps opened into a chamber directly above the exit cavern below, with a few holes in the floor. Sunlight streamed through a narrow slit in the far wall. The chamber was empty. Why go to all the trouble of having a secret cavern if there was nothing in it? Dragon riders had hidey holes all across the realm, but they kept them supplied with food, clothing and a few weapons. This one was no use to anyone.

  A voice floated up from outside. Marlies nipped over to the slit in the rock. She was above the tree line, the forest sprawling past the foot of the mountain to the Flatlands, where her father had taken her as a littling. A rock slide slashed a scar across the greenery, and a goat track led to the shrubbery at the cave mouth.

  Two tharuks were tromping up the trail, arguing. “What if crows were wrong?”

  “Want to lose a hand?”

  “No. Long climb. That’s all.”

  “We climb because Zens. Want that troop leader report us?”

  “Ah … no. I like hands.”

  The larger tharuk laughed harshly. “Then hold onto them.” It gestured at the bushes. “Quiet. Nearly there.”

  The beasts were making such a racket. Marlies turned, evaluating the room. It wasn’t useless, after all. Someone had designed it with kill holes, some angled toward the entrance and others to the rear of the cavern.

  Taking owl-wort leaves from her healer’s pouch, she chewed them, then Marlies laid the dead tracker’s poisoned arrows next to two of the holes and a stone by another. She nocked her bow, careful not to touch the poisoned tip, and waited. Soon the owl-wort took effect, making her view of the dim cavern below much clearer. Her skin crawled with impatience until the tharuks rustled the bushes.

  Rasping breaths and footsteps echoed in the tunnel. The large tharuk passed under the first hole. Marlies increased the tension on her bow. She waited. When the tharuk was under the third hole, she nudged the stone with her boot, sending it clattering into the cavern below. The beast whirled in surprise, giving Marlies a perfect shot. Her arrow zipped through the air and struck the tharuk in the temple.

  “What was that?” its companion asked, entering the tunnel.

  Marlies turned and fired down the front kill hole. Her arrow lodged in the tharuk’s neck. Clutching at the shaft with its claws, it toppled to the stone.

  She threw on her rucksack and fled down the stairs into the cavern. She removed the tharuks’ bows from their backs, placing them in their paws. With any luck, someone might think these two had killed each other with their own arrows. Then again, maybe not—the crows and the dead tracker were damning evidence.

  She shook her head. Years ago, dragons had kept Zens’ tharuks confined behind the Terramites, the mountains between Death Valley and the Flatlands. Tharuks had only dared to make occasional forays into the Flatlands to plunder and enslave citizens of Dragons’ Realm. Dragons had always driven them back.

  Now, these brutes were everywhere.

  §

  Marlies froze among the foliage of a towering gum tree, glad she’d taken freshweed to stop the tharuks from scenting her. She pulled her camouflage cloak around her tightly, watching two tharuks stomp around the forest floor. In the four days since she’d left the tunnel mouth, it was the third time that they’d gotten this close.

  “Always the same,” snarled the hulking tharuk with a broken tusk. “Scent’s gone again. Does that human fly?”

  “Maybe,” answered a runty tharuk, gazing up at the sky.

  Brok
en Tusk cuffed Runty, sending it sprawling through the leaves into the trunk of Marlies’ gum tree. “Stay there,” Broken Tusk snapped. “Break time.”

  “W-we’re not g-going to sleep, are w-we? If Zens c-catches us—”

  “How would Zens know? I’m knackered. Shuddup. Move over.” Broken Tusk kicked Runty, persuading it to shuffle over, then slumped to the ground, against the trunk.

  “It killed two of us by that tunnel. M-might be dangerous.”

  “Don’t be stupid. They was fighting. That female is gone. Now, sleep.” Broken Tusk clobbered its underling, closed its eyes and was soon snoring.

  Runty gibbered for a moment, then dozed off, no doubt lulled to sleep by the melodious cacophony Broken Tusk was conjuring through its piggy snout.

  Marlies rolled her eyes. Charming! Trapped by snoring tharuks. There had to be a way out of here. She drummed her fingers lightly on the branch. A thrum answered her. She laid her hand on the smooth bark, inhaling the eucalyptus scent as the leaves around her rustled.

  Be daring, be brave. Use my leaves to rid our forest of these vermin.

  How?

  Sacrifice is worthwhile for a greater cause.

  An image of blazing gum trees appeared in her mind.

  Oh shards, no. Everyone on the edge of the Flatlands knew that in intense heat, gums could combust due to the oil in their leaves. But to willingly offer? This tree was truly noble.

  The tree gave an encouraging rustle.

  It just might work. Extracting a fire bean and an arrow from her rucksack, Marlies plucked some gum leaves, crushing them and rubbing them along the wooden shaft of the arrow, coating it with eucalyptus oil. She wrapped more crushed leaves in a scrap of fabric from her healer’s pouch, and tied it around the arrow head. Holding the arrow between her knees, she broke the fire bean against the leaf bundle. The bean ignited instantly, and the leaves flared. Snatching up her bow, she shot the flaming arrow at a pile of dry leaves, a distance from the sleeping babes. She snorted, baby monsters, more like. She wished them nightmares.