Master Giddi threw up his hand, motioning him to be quiet.
A chilling snarl rang out. Something crashed through the bushes toward them.
“Tharuks,” hissed Master Giddi. “Hide.”
Fenni scaled the nearest strongwood and pulled his invisibility cloak around him. Not that it would do much good. His footprints in the snow were a dead giveaway.
Master Giddi scrambled up after him, but instead of hiding himself in his cloak among the branches, the master mage stood on a sturdy branch, parting the foliage to get a better look.
Piggy snout twitching, a tharuk lumbered into view. On two legs, its matted fur prevented it from succumbing to the cold. The beast followed Master Giddi’s prints toward the tree, then took a running jump, launching itself at the trunk. Claws sprang from its fingertips in midair. Gripping the bark as it landed, the beast swarmed up the strongwood, the stench of rot wafting over Fenni. His heart pounded.
Invisibility cloak be cursed. Fenni grabbed his bow, nocked an arrow, and fired. The shot thudded into the strongwood’s trunk, next to the tharuk’s hand. Master Giddi flung flames at the beast, but the foliage was in the way. Fenni shot another arrow, hitting the tharuk’s arm. It shook the arrow off like a mosquito. Beady red eyes boring into Fenni, it swung onto his branch, tusks drooling dark saliva.
His flame had to work. Now. Fenni desperately tried to sense nature’s energy. He held up his hand to blast a fireball at the tharuk. Green sparks dribbled from his fingers onto the branch, sputtering out—useless.
A fireball flew past the tharuk’s ear. Master Giddi was aiming at the beast, but the tree trunk was in his way. Master Giddi thudded to the ground, bellowing at the tharuk. The beast ignored Giddi, lunging toward Fenni.
He scrambled further along the branch. Master Giddi shot an arc of green flame toward the tharuk. It ducked, flinging itself onto its stomach, pulling itself along the bough after Fenni.
The branch was getting mighty slender, bowing with their weight. Fenni clambered as far as he dared. He fished his knife out of its sheath and flung it at the tharuk just as a fireball blasted the creature off the branch in a trail of flame and smoke. Fenni’s knife thunked into the branch. The tharuk thudded to the snow.
Heart booming like a drum, Fenni peered down at the dead beast. There was a smoking hole in the side of its torso. The stench of burnt hair and flesh drifted up. He wrinkled his nose and swallowed. That had been a sharding close call—he could’ve been dead meat, like his uncle. “So that’s why mages have to master flame,” he joked shakily.
Master Giddi gave the beast a nudge with his boot, then looked up. “Indeed,” he replied. “And the sooner you do, the better.”
§
Hours later, Fenni was in Giddi’s cabin playing with a tiny green fireball that shot erratically between his fingertips. Surely, now, Master Giddi would be impressed.
Suddenly, the fireball darted at the master mage’s face. Giddi caught it, snapping his fingers shut around it. Face grim, he raised one of those infamous bushy eyebrows at Fenni.
“Ah, sorry, I, um …”
“Not good enough. You think you can kill a tharuk like that? Come on, Fenni, focus. You need drive, precision and more flame. You’ll set half of Great Spanglewood Forest alight if you don’t master this. If you can’t control your own flame, the Wizard Council will never let you loose.”
Face growing hot, Fenni scuffed his boot on the floorboards, not meeting the master wizard’s eye. Shards, he’d been doing so well.
“You got distracted and thought of me, so that’s where your fireball went. That won’t do in battle. Now, go and practice outside in the clearing, so you don’t burn my cabin down. I’m not losing my home to a fledgling wizard.”
Fledgling? Even though he knew Master Giddi was goading him, Fenni rose to the bait. “I’m not a fledgling and you know it. I’ve passed my first trials. I only need to master the fireball.”
“Good, you’ve got two days.”
“But two days is—”
“Yes, I agree, way too long for an experienced wizard like yourself, so I’ll give you a day and a half. Now, outside. Get practicing.”
“A day and a half?” Fenni spluttered. He strode across the threshold, pulling the door shut. Shards, he’d never do it.
“Yes, you will. And I want your fireball looping among those trees without damaging a leaf.” Master Giddi’s voice sounded in Fenni’s mind.
Fenni spun, jaw dropping and pushed the door open. “How did you mind-meld with me?”
Eyes crinkling, Giddi laughed.
“Can you teach me?”
“Maybe. Master your fireball.”
“With only two days until trials, I won’t even have time to sleep,” Fenni grumbled.
Giddi chuckled. “Nothing like a little focus to hone skills. I’ll check your fireball tonight.”
“Tonight.” Fenni snapped his jaw shut and stalked out the door, leaving it open to the snow.
“Yes, tonight. There’s more advanced fire training to master, too.”
Oh shards, he’d fail his trial.
Snake-tongue
“You fool,” Lars yelled. “All my archers without arrows for half a day. What would’ve happened if we’d been attacked?” His piercing blue eyes raked Kierion from head to foot.
“I didn’t think of that, sir.” Kierion made himself meet Lars’ scathing gaze. “It was meant as a prank.” He had to tough this out or the council leader would think even less of him. Playing the fool was one thing, but Kierion prided himself on not being a coward.
The whole of Dragons’ Hold had been in an uproar that morning when the dragon masters had discovered the arrow flingers had lost their weapons. Well, not all of their weapons. He’d left an arrow or two in each archer’s personal quiver, but he had cleared out the weapons store. Their panic had shocked him out of his playful mood.
“Imagine tharuks swarming over Dragon’s Teeth and us sitting here weaponless.”
“I can’t really imagine that, sir,” Kierion said. He’d been such an idiot. He just hadn’t thought. “I mean, those mountains are the guardians of Dragons’ Hold because they’re impenetrable, but what if our riders had been called away to Montanara or to a village because tharuks had attacked? We could’ve lost lives as a result of my prank.” His neck grew warm as shame washed over him.
Lars’ eyebrows shot up in surprise. “So, there is a brain rattling around somewhere in your skull.” He shook his head, sighing. “It seems we have three issues here: the longstanding rivalry between sword fighters and archers; your inventive nature; and the grave danger we’re all facing.” He thrummed his fingers against his breeches.
Grave danger? Well, that was the tharuks. But inventive nature? No one had called him inventive before. A fool, yes. A prankster, too. Growing up on a farm on the outskirts of Montanara, he’d been known by the locals for his high jinks. He cocked his head, waiting for his inevitable punishment.
Lars’ eyes narrowed as he appraised Kierion for more agonizing moments.
Kierion’s spirits sank into his boots. He’d been hoping he’d come to the council leader’s attention so he could be in the next crop of trainee dragon riders. He sighed. There was no way that could ever happen now. He’d intended to retrieve the arrows before the council found out. But apparently, they’d all been up at the crack of dawn for an emergency council meeting. Thank the Egg, no villages had been attacked. It had seemed like such a fun idea, but he really had been stupid.
“I can’t let an action this foolhardy go unpunished. You’re on kitchen duty until further notice: an hour before dawn and two hours after dusk. No skipping classes or any training, or your hours will be doubled. You must also fulfill all of your usual duties. I assume you had help from other blade thrusters to carry out this prank?” Lars spat the word prank, as if it was dirty.
It felt strange hearing their nickname, blade thrusters, roll off the council leaders’ tongue—young and petty. �
�Um, yes, a few people helped me.” He didn’t dare mention that every trainee blade thruster had been in on the gag.
“Good. Then, unless you want to be stuck on kitchen duty for months, you’d better get them to own up and help.”
Months? Kierion swallowed. Who’d willingly want to scrub Benji’s smelly old soup cauldrons for months?
“The more of your accomplices that help, the shorter your kitchen duty will be.” Lars held up a finger. “And don’t let me catch you doing anything stupid again.”
Kierion nodded. Months of kitchen duty. There had to be a way out of that.
Lars shot Kierion another piercing gaze. “Where are the arrows?”
With Lars grilling him, it was hard to swallow. “Um, up on Lookout Peak.”
“Lookout Peak?” Lars frowned. “Surely you mean halfway up? Not at the top?”
“Ah …”
Lars shook his head. “You never do things by halves, do you?”
“Not usually, sir. Ma taught me that if a job’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well.”
A chuckle escaped Lars. The council leader was enjoying watching him squirm. But then Lars asked, “Tell me, how did you get all those arrows up Lookout Peak? Did a dragon help you?”
“Oh, no, sir. I’d never involve a dragon, sir. Some of the blade thrusters—ah, sword fighters—collected the arrows with me during dinner time, then one helped me bring them up the peak.”
Lars’ brow furrowed. “But how did you get them up there? It’s a steep climb.”
“We dragged a sledge.”
To Kierion’s surprise, Lars burst out laughing.
He shifted from foot to foot, unsure what to make of the leader’s outburst.
“What did the archers do to deserve having all their arrows stolen?”
Before he could think, indignation had Kierion blurting it out, “Those arrow flingers filled our scabbards with honey, sir, so we couldn’t draw our swords. Took hours to clean up the mess.”
“Indeed.” He scratched his beard. “I’ll definitely shorten your tenure in the kitchens if you manage to get your enemies to front up to kitchen duty too.” Lars stabbed a finger at him. “But remember, the archers are not your real enemies. Tharuks are. Those same arrow flingers may save your lives in battle. From now on, I want to see teamwork.”
That would be impossible. “Yes, sir, I’ll see what I can do.”
“No, Kierion, don’t just try. Make it happen. Now, go and retrieve those arrows.”
Kierion nodded. What else could he do? If he didn’t want to lose his chance at being a dragon rider, he had to find some way of breaching the growing rivalry between the arrow fling—no, the archers and the sword fighters. Rivalry he’d been happy inflaming. He turned to walk from Lars’ cavern.
“Before you go, Kierion, there’s one thing I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
Kierion turned back. “Yes?”
“Is it true that, back in Montanara, you strung a whole flock of chickens up a tree without harming any of them?”
Kierion groaned inwardly. So that gossip had spread to Dragons’ Hold too. His face grew hot. He met Lars’ gaze anyway. “Yes, sir, I did.”
Lars laughed. “Brilliant, absolutely brilliant. Now, go and fetch those arrows back before I get Singlar to flame your breeches.”
As Kierion shut Lars’ door, the council leader was still chuckling.
Great. Scaling two hours up Lookout Peak to retrieve the sledge full of arrows was going to be easy compared to convincing both the arrow flingers and the blade thrusters to do weeks of kitchen duty—and learn to work well together. But Lars was right. They needed to fight tharuks, not each other.
§
Lovina and Gret were about to enter the girls’ sleeping cavern when a sharp voice echoed down the corridor. “Ezaara as Queen’s Rider? That’s the biggest joke I’ve heard in years. She doesn’t deserve the title.” Lovina put her arm out to stop Gret from rounding the corner and pressed her finger to her lips. Gret raised her eyebrows and they huddled against the stone wall to listen.
“But Zaarusha chose her,” said a young voice.
“Don’t be stupid. We all know Ezaara’s not the rightful Queen’s Rider. It contradicts Anakisha’s prophecy.”
“What do you mean? She imprinted with Zaarusha.”
“How do we really know that? She could have fooled the queen. Anakisha’s prophecies have never failed, therefore Ezaara can’t be Queen’s Rider.”
Lovina turned to Gret mouthing, ‘What?’
“Come on, we’re going to be late to training.” Footsteps approached.
Gret yanked Lovina back down the tunnel and around a corner. “There’s somewhere we can talk along here.” They jogged further until they were outside Ezaara’s cavern, then Gret pulled Lovina down the Queen’s Rider’s tunnel and into a hidden alcove opposite Ezaara’s door, barely large enough for both of them.
“I never knew this was here, and I’ve often visited Ezaara.”
“Erob showed me this place.”
Lovina arched an eyebrow. “A dragon couldn’t fit in here.”
Gret chuckled. “By mind-meld. He asked me to watch Ezaara one night. I caught Simeon trying to sneak into her chamber.”
“Thank the Egg, him and his parents have been banished. What’s this prophecy Sofia was talking about?” Tomaaz had said she had the gift of prophecy. Maybe she could learn something. A tiny bud of wonder started to unfurl inside Lovina. Could she—Bill’s useless slave, less than the dust under his feet—have a valuable talent? If she did, she could contribute to Dragons’ Realm. She wouldn’t be a nobody, shackled and beaten; she could be special—like Anakisha.
Gret snorted. “Anakisha prophesied about the next Queen’s Rider. There’s a verse or something. Apparently Ezaara doesn’t fit the criteria.”
“Why?”
“Ssh.”
The other girls were barreling past on their way to training. “I’ll beat you all at knife throwing,” Sofia said, her cruel laughter hammering Lovina’s ears like a woodpecker.
When they were gone, Gret said, “Look, it’s some old prophecy made almost twenty years ago. But I know Ezaara’s the true Queen’s Rider. I’ve seen her fly. I’ve seen her with Zaarusha. Besides, Master Roberto tested her—he’d know if she was fake.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure how much use prophecy is. The last master of prophecy was hopeless, and Anakisha’s prophecy is a stupid legacy that makes people argue. Come on, we’d better get to class.”
Gret had a point. Lovina’s shoulders slumped.
“Hey, what’s up?” Gret said as they walked to class. “Don’t worry, Sofia’s wrong. Ezaara’s fine as Queen’s Rider. That prophecy was dumb.”
Exactly. The bud of hope inside Lovina withered.
Erob’s Rescue
Tomaaz and Pa were finally ready. Ezaara patted Zaarusha’s side. “You’ve been very patient.”
“I’m itching to get my son,” the queen replied.
“You ready?” Pa asked, seated on Handel. Tomaaz was wedged in behind him. Maazini was too exhausted to come with them, his orange scales pale, even in the blazing sunset.
Ezaara patted Zaarusha’s saddlebag. “Healing supplies, fishing nets, and I also brought a waterskin, in case Erob’s thirsty.”
Boots thudded in Handel’s den, and Adelina ran onto the ledge. “Lars finally said I can help rescue Erob.” Her cheeks were pink and voice breathy.
Ezaara melded with Singlar, Lars’ dragon. “Is Lars all right with Adelina coming along?” she asked.
“He relented a few minutes ago. It seems she wore him down,” came the old dragon’s sardonic reply.
Ezaara sent him a mental chuckle. Good. It made sense Adelina was coming. Besides being Roberto’s sister, Adelina knew Erob the best. Although how she’d convinced Lars, Ezaara had no idea. “Adelina can ride with me,” she said.
Zaarusha extended a foreleg to help Adelina climb up into the saddle.
“We
have to get Erob to safety as quickly as possible,” Pa said. “Ezaara, please give Adelina some freshweed too, to mask her scent.” He nodded at Adelina as she stuffed the bitter leaves into her mouth. “We’ve all had ours. Remember, Erob is our goal. If tharuks are around, we’ll communicate via our dragons to decide our strategy. If Erob’s gut is too badly injured, Ezaara may need to stitch him up temporarily before we move him. Before our dragons mind-meld with Maazini to get Erob’s exact location, does anyone have questions?”
“Yes,” said Adelina. “Why aren’t the council rescuing my brother?”
Hans frowned. “As far as I understand, the council wants us to retrieve Erob first, then we’ll use the information he has to free Roberto.”
Thank the Egg, Adelina had asked. Ezaara was half crazy with worry.
Ezaara, Zaarusha and Handel mind-melded with Maazini.
Ezaara was hit with Maazini’s sense of bone-weariness. Then she saw Erob, his head slumped on stony ground near a glade of trees. The side of his belly was ruptured. In her mind’s eye, they ascended and Erob grew smaller. It wasn’t a glade of trees he was lying near; he was in a clearing in a vast forest—Great Spanglewood Forest—with mountains rising a short distance away.
“Those are the Terramites,” Zaarusha said. “He’s very near Death Valley. There are bound to be tharuks nearby.”
“Then we’ll deal with them,” Handel snarled.
Ezaara held up the ring Ma had lent her—Anakisha’s ancient ring of power. “Are you ready, Pa?” At his nod, she slipped the ring on her finger, rubbed it, calling, “Kisha.”
“Ana,” called Pa, rubbing his ring.
With a pop, Dragons’ Hold disappeared.
Suddenly, they were in a tunnel of billowing clouds, bathed in golden light, their dragons suspended in midair. A willowy woman in a white gown approached, the clouds visible through her transparent figure. Ezaara recognized her from Zaarusha’s memories—Zaarusha’s last rider, Anakisha, who’d died in a desperate battle years ago.
Riders of Fire Complete Series Box Set books 1-6: YA Epic Fantasy Dragon Rider Adventures Page 66
