Adelina smiled. “No, I’ve managed this far without a guardian. I’ll be all right.”
“Up until now Roberto has protected you. He’s not here, so it’s my turn.” Linaia stayed melded.
Adelina opened the door to Mara and Leah.
“Can we see your dragon?” Mara asked.
“Your dragon?” Linaia huffed. “I’m not your dragon. You’re my rider.”
“Sure, come and meet Linaia,” Adelina showed the girls through her cavern out to Linaia’s den.
“Dragons’ tails. She’s huge,” exclaimed Mara.
Linaia preened her sapphire scales.
“Not as large as Erob,” said Leah knowingly. “He’s staying on the infirmary ledge, and he’s huge.”
Linaia stuck her snout in the air. “Size isn’t everything.”
“You’re so lucky.” Mara stretched her hand toward Linaia. “May I?”
“Yes, I’m sure Linaia won’t mind you petting her.”
“I’m not a dog, you know,” melded Linaia, woofing in Adelina’s mind.
Adelina stifled a chuckle as Mara rubbed Linaia’s nose. Linaia snorted. Mara jumped back.
“Come on, I’ll get you a drink.” Adelina fetched three cups of goat milk, adding dollops of honey. Linaia warmed them. “These may be a bit hot.” Adelina passed them their cups. “Linaia is still learning.”
“Huh. What about you, new rider?”
She bit back a smile. “And I’m still learning too. Come on, it’s cold. Let’s go inside.”
The girls went in and sat in comfy chairs, sipping their drinks.
“We came to tell you something, Adelina.” Mara nudged Leah. “Go on, tell her.”
Leah leaned forward. “It’s a little awkward. It concerns your brother.”
Adelina dropped her cup. It shattered on the stone, milk splattering her boots. “Sorry, I—”
“Thought it might be true,” said Mara, eying Adelina and the shattered crockery. “The council haven’t announced anything, but people are saying he’s working with Zens.”
Anger surged through Adelina. “Roberto would never work for that murderer.” Again. She hoped. No one was supposed to know where Roberto was. Had word got out? Or was this just another lie spread by Snake-tongue?
“We know he wouldn’t,” said Mara. “He’s a good man …” She blushed.
Adelina wanted to roll her eyes. Not another girl who admired her good-looking brother.
“We don’t believe he’s with Zens,” Leah said, “but we think we know where he is.”
“Where?” Adelina blurted. Shards, first dropping her cup, then thinking out loud like a littling. Where was her usual composure?
“Seppi, head of the blue guards, came to the infirmary earlier today, and told Marlies he’d seen a Naobian in the northern end of Spanglewood Forest, near Dragons’ Hold.”
A Naobian. So, it could be anyone. Tomaaz had said Roberto had been captured by Zens. Adelina’s hopes deflated. “Thanks.”
“There’s more,” said Leah. “He has long hair, like Roberto.”
Maybe he’d escaped. How could he have gotten across half the realm? Probably not by dragon or he would’ve come straight to Dragons’ Hold. “What was this Naobian doing?”
“The guard saw him in the forest.”
“Why was he telling Marlies?”
Leah blushed again. “Well, I shouldn’t really have been listening, but a while ago she told him to keep an eye out for Naobians in that part of the forest. And after she found out, she left on dragonback. She only just returned. I was on duty in the infirmary, so I couldn’t tell you earlier.”
Why? Why was the master healer looking out for Naobians? Unless Roberto had escaped. It was possible. They were trying to keep morale up, so no one was supposed to know that her brother was captive except her, Tomaaz, Lovina and the council. Adelina shook her head. “I’m sorry, girls. Master Roberto is on an errand in another part of Dragons’ Realm, so it must be another man. Thanks for letting me know.”
Leah slumped.
Adelina patted her shoulder. “It was good that you came to me. Don’t worry, the next information you bring me will probably be very valuable.” She waved a hand. “Roberto’s always here and there doing business for Master Lars. Sometimes he’s gone for weeks on end. People often gossip about him.”
After the girls left, she saddled up Linaia. “Where to, Adelina? Do you want to look for your brother?”
“Of course. But we don’t even know if it was him.”
“I melded with Septimor, Seppi’s dragon, and he showed me where he saw the man.”
“He did? Could you show me?”
“It’s only a short flight from Dragons’ Hold.” Linaia showed Adelina the image Septimor had shared with her. It was early morning, on the cusp of dawn. A man wearing a cloak was sitting in a strongwood grove. He did look like Roberto from above. Her heart pounded. He looked up as Septimor flew overhead, but the dragon’s shadow prevented Adelina from seeing his features. “Septimor has seen him in the same spot at dawn for three days running.”
It could be Roberto. He was about the right build and height, and his hair was a similar length.
But then again, it could be anyone.
If she talked to Marlies, she’d forbid her to go. Adelina climbed into the saddle. “We can’t leave Dragons’ Hold, I’ve only been a rider for a day. Lars would kill me.”
“If he killed you, he’d have to find me a new rider, silly.” Linaia’s chuckle reverberated through Adelina’s mind. “I often fly beyond Dragons’ Hold on my own. I see no difference in taking you.”
It was tempting, but what if something happened to her? “We shouldn’t go on our own.”
“Bring a friend. We can slip out before dawn and be back for breakfast.”
Adelina laughed. The tightness she’d felt in her chest for days eased. Even if this Naobian wasn’t Roberto, and even if she didn’t go, it was good to be planning something. If—and it was only an if—she did go, who could she take? Ezaara would have to tell the council. Gret was too straight-laced. She needed someone who didn’t mind bending rules.
“Linaia, let’s pay Kierion a visit.”
§
“Zaarusha, I’m going outside for a break. Please tell Reko to let Master Derek know I’ll be back soon.” Ezaara walked out of the main cavern, leaving the dueling trainees under Master Derek’s supervision. Her breath huffed in the cool air. She stretched her arms and cricked her neck.
Scales flashed in the sky. “Hello, Antonika.” Lately, every time she looked up, Tonio’s dragon was flying overhead. At first, she’d thought it a coincidence, but now she was sure Antonika was dogging her steps. She shrugged. What else could she expect from the spymaster’s dragon? She was one of Tonio’s sets of eyes and ears.
Nightmares had kept her up half the night again. She was drained after instructing the new riders with endless flight and stunt training, weapon drills and combat skills. She didn’t know what was worse—the constant need to put on a brave face or the horror-filled nights. Both left her chaffing at the bit to get Roberto.
A dragon shot out of the cavern, its massive multi-colored wings catching the sun. Soothing warmth washed through Ezaara. “Don’t worry,” Zaarusha melded. “Only five more days until the council gets him.”
Five days that stretched into forever.
§
Lovina passed Tomaaz Maazini’s saddlebag, her eyes bright. “And then Taliesin told me he’d had nightmares for the five nights before you came home, just like I did. The poor boy.”
“Is that so?” He was listening, but distracted by the malicious gossip he’d heard about Ezaara in the mess cavern. Someone at the next table had said Ezaara was a mage and had magicked the council members to let her be Queen’s Rider. Ridiculous. He threw the saddlebags over Maazini’s back. His dragon stood so Tomaaz could fasten the straps.
Ajeurina nuzzled Maazini. The siblings were happy to be reunited after her
being on swayweed and Maazini being Zen’s captive. Roberto was still in Death Valley. Shards, it’d been five days since Tomaaz had returned. The council had to do something.
“When I told Master Hans, he said Taliesin might also have the gift of prophecy.”
“What?” Now Lovina had his full attention. “So, both of you have the gift?”
“Don’t you see? Taliesin and I both had nightmares about you being hurt—from the day you were attacked until you got home. Once you were healed, they stopped.”
Tomaaz rubbed his hip. Thank the Egg for Ma and piaua. “So, is Pa going to train you both?”
She nodded. “Your pa says, at the beginning, its usual to have visions or dreams about people you know. The trick is to train yourself to seek visions about the realm. Apparently, it’s like casting a fishing net in the ocean, instead of using a line in a pond.” She shrugged. “I’ll learn.”
“I’m sure you will. You’re so talented.” He squeezed her hand. She was finding her place in the world. No longer a slave, she was an artist, a dragon rider, and now, a visionary.
Maazini snorted impatiently. “Well?”
“Ajeurina wants to fly, too. We’d better go before they take off without us.” Lovina laughed.
Her laughter made him smile. They climbed into their saddles. Maazini bunched his legs and leaped off the ledge. A thrill coursed through Tomaaz. His heart stuttered and his stomach dropped as they swooped over the forest, Ajeurina and Lovina at their side. The wind tugged Lovina’s hair from her braid and pinked her cheeks. Today she was absolutely radiant. Since imprinting with Ajeurina, her smile had gone from being shy to courageous.
Their dragons flew out over the basin. Soon, duty would call, but for now they had time together.
§
On the ledge outside the mess cavern, Tonio interrupted himself mid-sentence and pointed over the basin at Maazini and Ajeurina. “Look at them, Lars.”
Maazini tilted his wing and banked, before descending. Ajeurina mimicked him a heartbeat later.
Lars sighed. Not this again. “I know what you’re going to say—but this doesn’t prove anything.”
“Ajeurina is a half a wingbeat behind Maazini,” said Tonio. “Tomaaz and Lovina are sitting differently, moving out of sync, so it’s obvious they’re not mind-melding. The dragons are close, brother and sister, to Zaarusha and Erob’s mother and son partnership, but it’s all four melding together that made those other partnerships so incredible. Hans, Handel, Marlies and Liesar. And Yanir, Syan and Anakisha and Zaarusha. You’ve seen them fly. Seen them think in battle; their speed and efficiency were a strategic advantage.”
“Yes, they had an advantage.” One Tonio and Lars had been envious of. Lars’ Lydia hadn’t imprinted and Tonio’s wife was dead. But that jealousy didn’t give Tonio license for a vendetta. This whole business was growing old. “And?”
Tonio whirled, eyes stormy. “Master Roberto was kissing his trainee. Antonika saw it. Dragons don’t lie. We’ve both seen them fly together. The four of them were mind-melding.”
“Master Roberto is stuck in Death Valley, and—”
“Where he belongs,” snapped Tonio. “Amato’s spawn is rotten to the core. Corrupting trainees, influencing the Queen’s Rider. I bet Zens is training him again, right now.”
Lars sighed. “Isn’t that all the more reason to rescue him?”
“What? Because our lovesick Queen’s Rider is missing him?”
Lars shrugged. No, because he was a valuable master on the council, but telling Tonio that would only antagonize him. Tonio had never wanted Roberto to become a master. It always came back to him hating Amato.
Tonio leaned in. “Roberto may have even persuaded Ezaara, using his mental talents. Who’s to say it’s genuine affection and not mental force that’s making her nag us to rescue him.”
Lars had never considered that. Until this was cleared up and the dragon race was done, he had no choice but to leave Roberto where he was. His conscience pricked, but at least it was better than Roberto being banished outright. This way there was still hope. He shook his head. That was crazy. Since when was being captive to Zens called hope?
Vengeance
It must be night again. 000 and Zens were gone and the torches had burned low, the sole indication of time passing in this underground hellhole. Roberto cricked his neck. At least, only one of his hands was chained.
He pulled on a thread in the cuff of his jerkin until a clear-mind berry popped out. With clumsy fingers he slid it off the thread and ate it—his only defense against Zens’ numlocked water. His grimy, blood-coated fingernails were starting to pink again. Reaching into a discreet pouch along the inside of his belt line, Roberto extracted a pinch of dragon’s scale and ate the gray powder. That should keep his fingernails and eyes gray, disguising the fact that he wasn’t numlocked.
He let his mind back up to the surface and reached out with his senses.
Ah, peace. Zens must be asleep. It was the only time he didn’t torture Roberto mentally. He tried to wet his cracked lips, but his tongue was parched. 000 would bring water in the morning. There was nothing to do, except wait and enjoy the peace while Zens slept.
His body was one dull mass of aches, with sharp pain in his ribs when he moved. He cast his mind out. What was that? Not a tharuk—the sense of intelligence was too keen. Not a slave—there was no numlock at play in this mind. By the shards of the First Egg, he was mind-melding with Zens. Roberto was about to withdraw when an image hit him.
Zens was having a nightmare.
He was trapped in a dark space, pushing against two heavy doors, a crack of light shining between them. Locked, the doors wouldn’t budge. Zen slammed his body into them, panic tightening his chest. He couldn’t get out. He pounded his fists against the wood.
Hang on. They were small fists, like a littling’s. In this dream, Zens was young.
Something thudded into the doors. Zens sprang back, hitting his head on a wall, and slid down, whimpering in a corner.
He was in a tiny dark space, like a cupboard.
“Shuddup, scummy kid,” someone bellowed.
Fear spiked through Zens’ belly and he trembled, huddling in the corner. Flashes of a face shot through his mind, too fast for Roberto to grasp. Zens sat for hours, fear building, his stomach a grinding mass of nerves. Gradually, a new sensation fought with his fear. Zens struggled to hold his bladder, but failed. Whimpering, he wet himself. His sobs were heartbreaking. Skin burning, he sat in his damp breeches for hours, waiting. Eventually, he fell asleep.
Zens pried his eyes open, wincing as the harsh light hit him.
“Not again, you stinking whelp.” Large arms yanked him out of the cupboard, dangling him in the air. A huge man with malicious yellow eyes snarled, “You’ll be cleaning that stink up yourself.”
Zens’ surroundings were strange. Whatever world he came from, it was nothing like Roberto’s.
Zens was in an enormous room with metal walls as shiny as a newly-forged blade. Strange tabletops and work benches lined the walls, littered with vials, glass tubes and stands. Something bubbled in a glass pot on a benchtop. The fire underneath it was not powered by wood, but came out of a metal stand with a red tube attached to it.
What sort of wizardry was this?
A metallic scent hit him. A human body lay upon a bench, cut open, flesh peeled back, with the entrails showing. Along the back wall were huge glass urns containing liquid, with creatures swimming inside them.
Breathing ragged, Roberto broke mind-meld. If he wasn’t careful, he’d give himself away. Once he’d controlled his shock, Roberto slipped back into Zens’ mind.
The man threw Zens into a metal tub, mounted in a bench. Zens pushed a shiny handle and water came out of a spigot. He bathed himself in warm water.
More wizardry.
After he’d bathed, Zens pulled on a suit of soft fabric.
“Done, are you?” said the yellow-eyed man. “Now clean up that mess
.”
The man shoved some rags and a clear bottle—too light to be glass—into Zens’ hands. The boy stumbled to the cupboard to clean up his mess.
The stench of stale urine and blood made Roberto’s empty stomach roil.
Zens squeezed a handle on the neck of the bottle and a fine spray shot out of the strange spout-shaped lid. When he was done, Zens threw away the rags. “Sorry, Papa.”
The man towered over him. Eyes slitted, he backhanded Zens so hard his jaw snapped shut.
Zens bit his tongue, the coppery tang flooding his mouth. He curled in a ball, blows raining on his head. Blinding flashes of pink and yellow seared through his mind.
Roberto snapped mind-meld. Nausea hit him as his memories of Amato beating him resurfaced. He almost pitied Zens, until he remembered the countless slaves he’d murdered and villages he’d razed in his quest for power. He tried to moisten his lips again, and failed.
Should he dive back in? What if Zens woke?
Despite his trepidation, Roberto slunk back into Zens’ mind, a silent witness to his worst nightmares.
The man kicked Zens in the gut. He retched on the floor, clutching his abdomen. Dark blood flew out of his mouth as he vomited, splattering the cupboards under the benches.
Aiming a final kick at the boy, Zens’ father spat on him. “Clean your filth up.” He left the room, slamming the door.
The scene of Zens’ nightmare changed.
Zens was in the center of a group of littlings, taunting him and jeering.
“Your father smack your nose in?”
“How’d it get half way across your face? Fall off a roof again?”
“You’re uglier than ever—suits you.”
Shame knifed through Zens. He lashed out with his fist and connected with someone’s stomach. As cries broke out, he fled along a shiny metal corridor. Flexing his fingers, he shook his hand, but the pain felt good. Better than cowering in shame.
A new memory surfaced.
A thin dark-haired woman was seated on a high stool at one of the workbenches in the room where Zens had wet himself. “This won’t hurt a bit,” she crooned, strapping Zens’ arms, legs, chest and neck to a worktable. She tightened the bands and gave him an acrid red drink, cradling his head as he swallowed.
Riders of Fire Complete Series Box Set books 1-6: YA Epic Fantasy Dragon Rider Adventures Page 75
