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

by Eileen Mueller

  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.

  The splash of boots coming up the slushy trail announced Pa’s arrival. “Son.” He gripped Tomaaz’s shoulder. “Than
k the Egg, we found you both. I’ve been so worried.”

  “We were outside when tharuks crept up on the cabin. We had to flee. Were you hurt?”

  “A tusk to the leg, but I’ve had worse.” He gestured at his bloodstained breeches. “At least I got three of them.” Pa crouched next to him. “Lovina looks worse for wear. How’s she doing?”

  “Bill gashed her with a blade. I’ve cleaned it up and stitched it. Not much else I can do.”

  “Lovina will benefit from proper care at Dragons’ Hold. The healers there are excellent.” Pa smiled. “Well, they were when your ma was there.” He picked up the healing supplies.

  Tomaaz cradled Lovina in his arms and carried her down the goat track to Liesar, his boots sloshing through the runoff. “Hey, Lovina, wake up.”

  Her hand flew to her bandaged face, then she touched the skin above Tomaaz’s eye. “You’re hurt.”

  He’d forgotten all about the tharuk gashing his temple. “We’ll have matching scars.” He kissed her hair, not caring if Pa was watching. “Let’s get you to the healers at Dragons’ Hold.”

  Liesar knelt and Pa helped him get Lovina into the saddlebag. Tomaaz tucked the blankets around her.

  “Hang on,” Pa said, uncorking the healing salve. He smeared some over Tomaaz’s wound. “It’s just a superficial cut, but you’ll be better off with some of this on it. There’s food in there, too.” He pointed at the saddlebag opposite Lovina.

  “I’m glad you got Bill, Pa. He’s done enough damage.”

  Pa shook his head. “We didn’t. Bill escaped. Short of setting the forest on fire, Handel and Liesar couldn’t reach him.” He gestured at his bow, slung across his back. “None of my arrows hit true either, although I think I nicked his arm.”

  Tomaaz saw her charcoal drawing of them, splattered with her own blood. Bill marred everything beautiful. Ruined everything. Rage surged through him. If he ever saw Bill—

  Pa placed a hand on his arm as Tomaaz was climbing into the saddle. “Let it go, Son. We have bigger fish to net. Bill’s just one of Zens’ pawns. If we can strike at the head, we’ll kill all the arms.”

  “Good advice, Pa.” Advice he wouldn’t take. Tomaaz climbed into his saddle.

  The first chance he had, he’d make Bill pay.

  Soldiering On

  Huddled among boulders near Devil’s Gate, Marlies had taken the last of her freshweed so she could stay undetected, but it was still risky being this close to her enemies. She kept her camouflage cloak pulled tightly around her, only leaving a gap for her eyes. This cluster of rocks looked like a giant’s discarded playthings in the barren landscape, but made the perfect hiding place.

  Tharuk troops were flooding through the towering icy walls—Devil’s Gate—marching toward the Flatlands.

  And, once again, she could do nothing but wait.

  §

  Wind howled between sheer ice walls of Devil’s Gate. To Marlies’ right, on the mountainside above, was a tharuk hut, occupied since dusk. They’d doused the light a while ago, but Marlies had waited before venturing into the pass. Now, she was half frozen, but it was better than being dead.

  Creeping forward, Marlies was sure she stood out like a dark blot. Underfoot, the ice, scoured by the fierce wind, reflected the moonlight like burnished metal. She kept to the right wall where she was protected from the tharuks’ view. Her boots slipped. Marlies thrust out her arms. Her sword arm hit the wall. It hurt. Had she opened up the wound again? Shards, there was a dark patch on the ice—her blood. She scraped at the wall with her gloved fingers, trying to remove it.

  A guttural voice sliced through the night. “Where are you going?”

  Marlies froze.

  “To check the pass,” another answered.

  Tharuks, out and about! Their timing couldn’t have been worse.

  “The pass don’t need checking.”

  “I saw a shadow.”

  “Get back inside. No wandering at night.”

  Feet crunched and a door slammed.

  Crouched, Marlies waited, in case it was a trap. Then she hurried on, every squeak of her boots on the ice like a drumbeat in her ears.

  At last, she was through the pass. The snow was churned up where many tharuks had passed through that day. She kept to their trail, hoping her boot prints would be lost among theirs. The only problem was, hers were going the wrong way.

  You didn’t have that problem on a dragon. How she ached to fly Liesar again. She would’ve been across the realm in a few days, instead of weeks of travel.

  Her arm throbbed, but she plowed on through the snow. At least it was a fine night; she didn’t have to battle through a storm like the one that had raged until this morning—although a storm would cover her tracks.

  Near dawn, her head was spinning and her arm was throbbing. Tharuks would soon be on the move. She had to stop. She left the trail to explore. Further along the cliff, she found a cave with a narrow entrance, obscured by a rocky projection. Perfect.

  Once inside, Marlies pulled out her bedding, laying it on the cave floor. She couldn’t make a fire here. This was Zens’ territory. But she could eat some cold food and dress her wound.

  Shards, she was tired and dizzy.

  Lying on her uninjured side, Marlies closed her eyes. Death Valley was waiting below. Tonight, she’d slip down into the valley, hide her rucksack and mingle with slaves to find out where the dragon was.

  Insight

  The creature was ravenous. It’d been days since the last putrid scrap of meat had been flung outside his cave. He paced, snarling as the chain tugged on his raw leg. Instinct pushed him to keep moving, despite the pain. If he stopped, he doubted he’d get up again.

  He scanned the cave, but didn’t dare venture outside to the pallid dawn. He’d tried going out at night, but even the moon had hurt his eyes. Venturing forth under the cover of cloud also hadn’t helped—muted light still made his eyes ache. And sunlight made them sear.

  Hours later, he was still moving, but slower. A faint scuff made him cock his head, nostrils flaring. Human. Bringing him his pitiful meal. He moved to the front of the cave, squinting in anticipation of the sharp light. But today, the sun only itched his eyes—it didn’t burn or blind. Surprised, he opened them wider and went outside.

  Before, everything had been a drab gray, leached of color—but now he could see.

  He was in an arid wasteland, surrounded by stark hills. The human shambling toward him was barely alive—a thin young male with sunken eyes, holding a spade with a rotten rat on the end. The male stopped every few paces, breathing hard, the spade swaying.

  The creature stood transfixed by that swaying spade. The rat’s limp hindquarters hung off the shovel’s blade, its tail dragging in the dust. With each of the human’s uneven steps, the rat slid a little further. If the male stumbled, his next meal would land in the dust, out of reach.

  Another step.

  Then another.

  The creature moved toward the dead-faced human until his leg ached from the chain’s bite.

  The male tossed the meat off the end of the spade, then put the blade on the ground and leaned on the handle, panting. After a while, he staggered away.

  Lying down, the creature stretched its neck toward the stinking rat. He drew back his upper lip, wrinkling his nose, and snapped up the foul-tasting meat. Then he went into the cave to rest.

  When he came out again, sunlight seared his eyes. Clawing at the cavern walls, he roared in agony, loosening showers of shale from the hillside. Then the creeping gray blindness took its toll and his mind was dimmed with fog again.

  Now, he knew what caused it: he’d only seen clearly when he hadn’t eaten for three days. The life-sapping blindness came from something in his food. There was no other explanation for his burning eyes or the blanket of gray shrouding his thoughts and sight.

  He had to eat to survive this hell, but eating made everything more hellish. The creature limped past his dung pile, seething. Schemin
g.

  Change of Plans

  Lovina’s broken fingers were aching. Strange, she hadn’t noticed the pain over the last few days unless she moved them, and here she was, cramped in a saddlebag, not moving at all and they were throbbing. She raised her good hand. Come to think of it, so were her fingers on this hand. Her digits curved inward slightly, toward her palms. She’d probably strained them fighting Bill. But both hands? Maybe it was from being cramped in the same position for so long.

  Tomaaz glanced down. “We’ll stop soon so you can stretch your legs. Are you hungry?”

  “If you feed me more, I’ll burst.” She wasn’t used to eating so much, but from what she’d seen, Tomaaz could pack away an entire ox and still be hungry.

  Lovina tried to shift, but cramps ran through her feet, her toes were stiff, and she was bone-tired. Weary in a way she hadn’t been for years, despite no longer being under the influence of numlock. It must be the strain of the last few days. Or of the last eight years. Now that she was safe, perhaps her body was letting go.

  She’d let go emotionally too. She’d never thought she could trust so fast, but Tomaaz had eased his way into her heart.

  Hopefully he’d be around a while, not like all the people she’d loved and lost.

  Although the trees whisked by beneath them, she barely saw them as her memories rose to the surface, finally freed from the grip of numlock and terror of fighting to survive.

  Ma’s face flashed before her, clutching her littling brothers as tharuks had dragged them from their home. They’d been reunited with Da as the entire village was driven over the Terramites, lashed by tharuk whips. Da’s words now rang in her mind, “Keep walking straight ahead. Don’t look to the left or right. Don’t stand out and you’ll have a better chance of surviving. And always have hope: one day you’ll escape.”

  It was advice he hadn’t followed. When his littlings had been whipped, he’d fought tharuks tooth and nail, grabbing their whip for himself and lashing a beast until he’d been pulled off and put to death. The last time Lovina had seen him, tharuks had hacked his hands off, then dragged his dead body to the flesh pile. Ma had hidden Lovina’s face and the faces of her brothers in her skirts. But Lovina had peeked.