Riona’s words sent fire burning through his belly and limbs, blasting away the cold ache he’d felt. Kierion’s veins thrummed as if they were molten. Riona sped over the peaks of Dragon’s Teeth in a blur, leaving the hold-bound prejudice of the Council of the Twelve Dragon Masters behind.
“This is incredible. What’s happening?”
“That’s what it means to be a rider of fire. When a bond between dragon and rider is strong, the rider can harness the dragon’s energy.”
It was incredible. Kierion felt as if he could let go and soar through the sky on his own.
Riona chuckled. “Don’t get too carried away. I still want a rider tomorrow.” She popped an image into Kierion’s mind.
Flinging back his hood, he sucked his breath in. “Can we?”
“I don’t see why not,” Riona replied, “as long as we’re careful. The queen and the Queen’s Rider do this all the time.”
Kierion undid his harness and pulled his legs up, standing on the saddle. Far below, the treacherous slopes of Dragon’s Teeth descended into the Great Spanglewood Forest. Shards, imagine being impaled on one of those pine tips below. Kierion pushed the thought away. Every new adventure had risks. “Ready?” he asked. Of course she was.
He jumped.
Kierion plunged through the air, his stomach rushing up into his throat and nearly strangling him. The wind ripped tears from his eyes. His cloak flapped around him as he plummeted toward the trees.
“You’re a rider of fire,” Riona said. “Let go of your fear, and relax.”
Relax? Was she mad?
But then Kierion felt it—that fire burning through his muscles and surging through his heart. He let his body go floppy. Riona dived past him, her purple scales flashing as the sun peeked over the distant peaks to the West. Gods, she was glorious. His heart expanded until it was big enough to swallow the entire Spanglewood Forest.
She swooped beneath him and flicked her tail against his rump, slowing his descent. Again she swatted him with her tail, bouncing him in the air. He landed in her saddle with an “Ooff!”
Kierion couldn’t help it—he whooped, his voice ringing off the mountains and echoing over the forest.
Riona joined him, roaring in triumph. His blood sang. This was what it meant to be a dragon rider.
§
Tonio raised his far-seers—two joined tubes containing magic glass that enabled him to see things at a distance. Years ago, Zens had brought a few through the world gate as gifts—before they’d known he was evil. Tonio and Marlies had often used them while spying. What had Zens called them? Binolars?
“Yes, that’s Kierion all right.” He patted Antonika’s back. “Thank you for waking me.” The fool’s jubilant cry bounced off the mountainside below. What was the point in having a mage cloak if you made enough noise to wake the dragon gods? And why had he been sneaking out in the first place?
Tonio shook his head. Kierion was up to something.
“I recognize their mood,” said Antonika, landing in a depression between two boulders, high on Dragon’s Teeth—one of Tonio’s favorite places to lurk on the edge of Spanglewood Forest. “He’s just felt the fire burning in his veins for the first real time.”
That made Tonio chuckle. “Remember, that very first time?”
“I do.”
Warmth flooded Tonio as Antonika’s memory cascaded through him. Gods, those had been sweet times—full of hope and anticipation. He’d been in love, too, and the whole world had been bright and rosy.
Before Amato.
That was how he saw life now: before and after Amato. There was nothing else. Amato’s actions had taken his life from happiness into bitter ashes of desolation. His former life had disintegrated, dispersed on chill winds. Fleeing Naobia, he’d come to Dragons’ Hold and buried himself in work, soon rising to become spymaster. But even that had done nothing to ease the anger burning inside him. Nothing could bring his beloved Rosita back.
He hunkered down in the saddle, resting his arms on Antonika’s ruby neck scales, and raised the far-seers again. There Kierion was, dancing along the treetops on Riona, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. The lad probably hadn’t. Lars had talked about Kierion so glowingly, Tonio had hoped to induct him into the ranks of dragon corps. Someone that stealthy would make a good spy. But now he wasn’t so sure. Shrieking above the forest while out for a joyride … What was that damned fool doing? Kierion and Riona had disappeared among the trees.
“Where have they gone?”
“Mage Gate,” Antonika mind-melded, adjusting her feet in the snow.
Tonio dropped the far-seers, letting them swing from the string around his neck, while he counted the days on his fingers. Yes, it was the week of winter solstice. “That flaming fool. He’s sillier than I thought.”
His eyes and ears across the realm had told him that Naobian mages had traveled north to Spanglewood. Wizards from all over Dragons’ Realm would be dueling at Mage Gate. Not wanting to wait for Spring Equinox, they’d moved their wizard trials forward to Winter Solstice. For eighteen years, ever since Master Giddi had closed the gate there, mages held duels at Mage Gate to hone their powers—a sad tribute to the wizards who’d been lost in Zens’ world. That fool, Mazyka, had opened the gate that had let Zens in, and taken many of the wizards through. After the slaughter of Anakisha’s last battle, the councils had forced Master Giddi to shut the world gate. It had nearly killed Giddi, locking most of the mage population out of Dragons’ Realm, but he’d had no choice. And now they were left, still battling to exterminate Zens and his monsters.
Thrusting the far-seers in his saddlebag, Tonio melded with Antonika. “Whatever Kierion’s up to, I hope he doesn’t break his neck.”
“That would be a shame,” she said.
“It would,” he agreed, “because he’d deny me the pleasure of breaking it for him.”
“So, you’re going to report him to Lars?”
Tonio snorted. “Lars will want evidence.”
“We could follow them.”
“No, I’ll bide my time and pounce when the opportunity is right.”
§
Fenni clambered into the saddle behind Kierion, and Jael hopped on behind Fenni.
“Are you sure you can carry three?” Kierion asked Riona.
“Why do you think these saddles are so large?” Riona tensed her haunches and sprang. In moments, they were high above the trees. The extra weight hadn’t slowed her at all.
“Of course it didn’t. You’re all lightweights.”
Kierion chuckled.
“Over there,” said Jael, pointing to the west. A thin spiral of smoke rose through the trees. “That’s where we saw tharuks camping, late last night, near a hut they’d destroyed. Remember, we’re not playing heroes today. I want to get in and rescue any people taken as slaves.”
They really needed another dragon to carry captives.
“There’s not a great likelihood of survivors,” melded Riona. “We’re too far from Death Valley for them to be collecting slaves. We’re practically at Dragons’ Hold.”
“Jael, tharuks aren’t usually this close to Dragons’ Hold,” Kierion said. “Do you think they’re up to something?”
“I don’t know,” Jael said. “I’m not from around here. You’d be the expert on that.”
Fenni nudged Kierion. “Expert, huh? That’s a promotion.”
“Come on, we’re nearly there,” Jael said. “Weapons at the ready.”
That was easy for him to say. Mages only had to hold their hands out. Kierion grabbed his bow from a saddlebag and leaned forward so he could snatch an arrow from his quiver without knocking Fenni’s eye out. At the same time, Fenni leaned back. It was a squeeze, riding with two other passengers.
“I should sneak into their camp,” Kierion said. “I can meld with Riona and, if you two place your hands on her hide, she’ll relay what I’m seeing.”
“No,” Jael insisted. “I’m the most senior here.
I’ll take the risks.”
“But neither of us will know what’s happening.”
“Which is absolutely normal in battle,” Jael said. “Now, quiet.”
Riona descended between the trees to a river, landing two furlongs from the tharuk camp.
Jael slid to the ground. “Give me a short head start. When you hear yelling or snarling, come and find me.” He ran into the trees.
“I still don’t like this,” Kierion muttered.
“He’s good,” said Fenni. “He can beat me hands down, just by raising his eyebrow.”
Kierion turned in the saddle to see his friend’s face. “You’re joking.”
“No, when we were dueling, the twitch of his eyebrow created an ice wall as high as Riona between us.”
“As high as Riona?”
“Mighty high,” huffed his dragon.
“I thought he said you’d beaten him.”
“Once, and only just.”
“But he’s only a bit older than us.”
“And been training as a mage since he could walk.”
“Lucky guy.”
Distant snarls ripped through the forest. Fenni grabbed Kierion’s waist as Riona leapt into the air.
“Not too tight. Got to reach my quiver,” was all Kierion had a chance to say before they were over the tharuk campsite.
Mage fire crackled between the trees. Lances of brilliant green hit tharuks, as Jael fought them single-handedly. Roars and bellows rang out.
A beast with enormous tusks was sneaking through the trees behind Jael.
“Closer,” Kierion urged, trying to get a clear shot.
Riona tilted, her wingtip nearly grazing foliage.
Mage fire blazed from Fenni’s hands as he felled a beast. Kierion leaned out and fired. Green flames arced from behind him, hitting his arrow and setting it aflame. It flew between the trees and hit the startled tharuk in the chest. It batted at its fur, too late. The scent of charred fur and flesh rose through the trees.
Riona corrected her angle so they were level again.
A rock hit Kierion’s head, thudding off Riona’s back into the foliage. His temple throbbed. Tiny lights danced before Kierion’s eyes. He shook his head, trying to clear his vision. Blood ran down his face, the coppery tang hitting his lips. Kierion slumped forward onto Riona’s spinal ridge and his vision went black.
§
“Kierion.” Fenni shook his friend, but he wouldn’t wake up. Leaning over Kierion’s prone form, Fenni placed his hands on the purple dragon’s hide. “Riona, can you hear me?”
“Yes, Fenni, I hear you.” Her voice was gentle, tickling his mind. In that moment, he felt her sathir, like a river flowing between them. Kierion must feel this power every day. No wonder he enjoyed being a dragon rider. “Kierion’s unconscious. We must get him back to Dragons’ Hold.”
“Master Giddi’s closer. He has piaua juice,” Riona replied.
“He used the last of it healing you yesterday.”
An angry rumble issued from the dragon’s belly. “I’ll kill the beast that did this.”
As she banked, Kierion’s head started to slip off her ridge. Fenni grabbed him. “Riona, watch out, Kierion’s falling,” he yelled aloud—forgetting he could mind-meld while touching her.
She righted herself. “Tighten his harness. Use the rope from my saddlebag to secure him.”
He could do better than a rope, and faster. Fenni held out his hand. A vine flew from a tree beneath them, whipping around the dragon’s middle and over Kierion, tying him fast.
“That works,” said Riona. “Now, where’s that tharuk?”
“To your left, behind us in the strongwood with the jagged branch sticking up.”
As Riona flew over the evergreen treetops, Fenni pulled the sathir from the air, blasting the tharuk off its perch with a fierce gust of wind. It crashed through the trees, snarling, then hit the ground—silent.
The wind blew through Fenni’s clothes, making him shiver. The roaring had stopped below and there were no glints of green flame. But there was a strange glimmer in the trees. What was it? Something was sparkling.
“Fenni,” Jael yelled.
Fenni spun. Jael was on a small knoll near a smoldering cabin—or what was left of it.
Riona landed on the hillock.
Jael shook his head, his face soot-smudged and eyes brimming as he gazed at the ruins. “We’re too late. They’re dead: three littlings and their parents—every one of them. Those monsters must’ve killed them last night.” He kicked at a lump of snow, then faced Fenni. “What’s wrong with Kierion?”
“A rock to the head. We need to hurry.”
Jael’s dark eyes met Fenni’s. “Take him back to the new master healer at Dragons’ Hold. I’ll stay and bury the remains of that family.” He shook his head. “I’m not leaving them here, like that, charred bones in their beds.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry about me. It’s not a long walk to Mage Gate. And I’ll need the solitude, believe me, after cleaning up this lot.” He gestured at the tharuk carcasses strewn among the trees.
Fenni twisted his cape in his hands. Shards, he should stay and help Jael. More tharuks could attack. But Kierion needed him too.
Riona rumbled. Fenni placed his hand on her hide. “Jael is right. He’ll cope, Fenni. Let’s take Kierion home to Dragons’ Hold.”
“She wants me to go to Dragons’ Hold,” he told Jael.
“It’ll be a nice trip.” Jael grimaced. “Just like entering the flaming jaws of a dragon.”
Dragon’s Jaws
It was mid-morning when Riona flew over a steep mountain and swooped into a basin ringed by mountains. So, this was Dragons’ Hold. Fenni sucked his breath in. Dragons of all colors flew between caverns in the southern end of the basin, their wings catching the chill winter sun.
As they neared, a blue dragon roared and charged out to meet them, its rider calling, “You have a wounded rider? Follow me.”
“As if I couldn’t find the way myself,” Riona mind-melded, Fenni’s hand on her.
The blue dragon and its rider wheeled away when they reached a cavern in the southern mountainside. How they could tell which cavern was which, Fenni had no idea.
Riona thudded onto the enormous ledge. Liesar, the silver dragon he’d met at Mage Gate, padded over and nuzzled her. The next moment, a door flew open and Marlies, the master healer, rushed out. “Oh.” Alarm crossed her face. She gave Fenni a quick glance. “Please, untie the vines.”
Fenni waved a hand, and the vines fell to the snowy ledge. He passed Kierion down to Marlies and she carried him inside. Fenni slid off Riona, pausing to lay his hand on her side. “Do you need anything?”
“Just my rider to be healthy,” she answered. “Please.”
Fenni hesitated. Jael had said he was going into the flaming jaws of a dragon. He removed his wizard cloak, so he wasn’t an instant target.
Fenni walked in the door. Beds lined the walls of a long cavern. A fire flickered in a grate at the far end, smoke funneling up a natural chimney. A few people were in beds or sitting near them, tending the sick and wounded. Everyone stared—everyone—their eyes roving over his clothing and lingering on his face. They were all dressed in riders’ garb—jerkins, shirts and breeches of tough fabric, suitable for flying—although the hues varied.
He stood out like a blazing pyre of dead tharuks in the snow. He wished he was wrapped in his cloak’s invisible embrace.
“Come in, Fenni,” Marlies called from Kierion’s bedside. “Everyone, this is Fenni, who saved Kierion and helped him get home. I expect you to welcome him.” She lifted Kierion’s eyelids and checked his pulse.
As Fenni pulled the heavy door closed, a blonde girl of about twelve summers approached.
“Are you a wizard?” she whispered, loudly enough for everyone in the silent infirmary to hear.
He hesitated. The flaming jaws of a dragon … Flames, what should he say? He’d be thr
own out in an instant if the Council of the Twelve Dragon Masters heard about him.
Hang on, he was proud of being a mage. He’d just passed his last trials. He’d been killing tharuks on dragonback with a rider. Who cared what a bunch of prejudiced dragon riders thought? “Yes, I am.” Fenni held his hand out. Letting sparks flit from his fingers, he turned them into tiny green blossoms that disappeared in a volley of pops.
Eyes wide, she clapped and laughed. “I’m Leah, you’re so lucky to be a wi—” She clamped her mouth shut.
The tension in the chamber spiked.
Fenni winked at her. “Yes, I am.” He forced himself to chuckle. “And you’re lucky to live at Dragons’ Hold. It’s beautiful here, even in winter. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to check on my best friend.”
“Kierion’s your best friend? He’s fun.”
He could be—if he ever woke up again.
Marlies was looking concerned. “Leah,” she said, gesturing at the girl. “Get me some blankets. He’s freezing.”
Shards, how silly of him. “I can help,” said Fenni.
His friend was pale and his lips were tinged blue. The veins in his hands were a mottled purple. He’d been so concerned about getting him home, he hadn’t thought about keeping him warm. If Kierion died, he’d be partly to blame …
Fenni held Kierion’s feet. Jael had explained that if you warmed the peripheries first—the limbs, hands and feet—then it wasn’t such a shock to the body when its temperature rose. Fenni focused on his friend. He channeled sathir through his hands, warming Fenni’s extremities, then limbs and torso.
Slowly, his friend’s hands lost their mottled purple appearance, and grew pink again. The pallor on his face faded and his cheeks took on a healthy hue.
“That’s enough, Fenni,” Marlies said. “Overheating can be as dangerous as under-cooling.”
Fenni’s breath gushed out of him. He rolled his shoulders. How long had he been working on Kierion? Moments or hours? In the underground warren it was hard to tell how much time had passed. How did these people live year round without daylight? He gazed around. There were regular holes in the outside wall, each stoppered with a large rock. They must be windows of sorts in summer. He shrugged. Who needed windows when you could jump on a dragon at a moment’s notice? That was fresh air enough.
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