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

by Eileen Mueller

“With his help, what could possibly go wrong?” answered Linaia.

  Adelina sighed. “You’re right. Things do get out of hand when Kierion’s involved. We’ll go alone.”

  Broken

  The skin on Ezaara’s neck crawled, as if she was being followed, but whenever she looked around, there were no dragons in sight. “Something’s not right, Zaarusha, we’d better get to Death Valley.” She rubbed Kisha’s ring, murmuring, “Kisha.” With a pop, the eerie wilderness outside the rim of Dragon’s Teeth disappeared, and they were in a tunnel of gold clouds, with Anakisha floating toward them. Between the golden clouds was a dark rift, weeping tendrils of black, cloying fog.

  “Anakisha,” Ezaara called, “there’s fog leaking into your realm gate. It feels evil.”

  “Frequent use leads to rifts in the gate, which Zens could discover and exploit.”

  That would be awful. Imagine him appearing with troops of tharuks wherever and whenever he wanted. Ma had mentioned the risks—and they’d ignored them. Now, the gates were damaged. “Anakisha, Master Roberto is Zens’ captive in Death Valley.”

  Anakisha pointed at Ezaara’s chest. “You’re wearing my dream catcher.”

  Pa was right—it was Anakisha’s. Ezaara nodded.

  “Have you dreamed of Roberto? Seen his pain and suffering?”

  Ezaara stared at Anakisha in shock, nodding mutely.

  Anakisha pulled the fine silver chain that rested at Ezaara’s throat, bringing the tear-shaped crystal into view. “This crystal amplifies Roberto’s thoughts while you both sleep, enabling you to meld over long distances with him, feel his pain, and relive your memories together. The crystal only functions between the Queen’s Rider and her true mate.”

  Tomaaz’s message from Roberto had quoted Roberto’s mother, saying teardrops amplify thoughts. And she’d thought Roberto had given her a simple keepsake between lovers. Had he understood the message? “He’s been limplocked. He could be dying.”

  “The future of Dragons’ Realm depends upon you both, but be cautious, Zens is formidable.”

  “Anakisha,” Ezaara asked, “what of your prophecy? They’re saying I can’t be Queen’s Rider.”

  “My prophecy stands, and you are Queen’s Rider. Now, go, and save your loved one.”

  With a flip of Zaarusha’s wings and a crack, they appeared in the dark, landing just below a Terramite peak.

  Ezaara shouldered the small rucksack of supplies Ma had given her, then slid off Zaarusha. She pressed her cheek against her dragon’s muzzle. “Thank you for bringing me.”

  “The same applies as last time: find Roberto, but if it gets too dangerous, get out.”

  Ezaara flung her arms around Zaarusha’s neck, then made her way up the hill and scurried behind some icy boulders. Zaarusha ascended into the night sky, swallowed by darkness. Ezaara was alone. No one was here to help. Only Ma knew she’d come. She tugged her camouflage cloak around her and skirted around the rocks, and headed down toward her enemy’s lair, avoiding the tharuks on watch.

  §

  Ezaara woke in the passage outside the cavern where Roberto was captive. She’d been here for a day, mind submerged, waiting in the dark until Roberto was alone. Now, the torches in Roberto’s cavern were extinguished. She could hear him breathing and the occasional grunt of pain or clank of chains, so he was still alive. Her stomach growled, gnawing a hungry hole inside her. She took a sip of water. Tore off some flatbread and chewed it.

  She must’ve been missed at Dragons’ Hold by now. What excuses was Ma making for her absence?

  Ezaara stiffened as 000 entered Roberto’s cavern again, carrying a torch. She pressed her face to the rock so she could see.

  Roberto was facing her, slumped against the stone wall on the far side of the cavern, mouth slack, eyes shut, his hands curled in. One arm was shackled to the wall and his leg to the floor. As the enormous tharuk kicked him, he flinched. His eyes opened, then drooped again, and his head slumped on his chest. There was no doubt—he was limplocked. If she didn’t help him soon, he’d be dead.

  §

  “To your feet,” 000 barked. The tharuk’s tusks ran slick with dark saliva.

  Roberto staggered, chains clanking, an arm on the wall for support. His breath was short and his mind foggy. Shards, he’d forgotten to take clear-mind berries. The stench of 000’s fetid breath took Roberto’s own breath away, making his chest tight. The gray fog over his eyes was worse. If only he could think straight.

  “Ready?” 000 uncoiled a short whip and cracked it on the floor.

  Roberto’s ears rang with the sharp retort.

  “Time to dance.” 000 flicked the whip near Roberto’s feet, making him hop, the chain biting his ankle.

  The monster cracked the whip again, then swept it in an arc along the floor. Roberto jumped. The whip hit the wall with a snap and flicked along the floor toward him again. Roberto leaped, pulling his legs up, but the chain yanked him down to the stone, bruising his backside. That sharding limplock. If only he could control his limbs. Scrambling to his feet, he jumped again, but his legs were clumsy and slow. The whip snared his chain. 000 yanked hard. Roberto smashed into the floor. Sharp pain pierced his side. He breathed in. Winced. Yep, cracked ribs.

  Through the blurry gray, 000 loomed over him, a sadistic grin splitting the tharuk’s ugly face. “Not learned to dance yet? Need more lessons.”

  The whip sang, coiling around Roberto’s arm. 000 yanked him to stand, then forward, until the chains on his arm and ankle were gnawing his flesh, stretched taut behind him. 000 tugged again. His shoulder socket burned.

  And again.

  Roberto’s hip seared. Dragon gods, would the monster yank his leg from his body?

  000 released the whip.

  Roberto crashed to the floor, shackles clanking, smacking face-first onto the granite. The tang of blood filled his mouth, flowing from his throbbing nose. His tongue was swelling. One of his front teeth was loose. He gazed through a swollen eye at 000, focusing on his pain, blocking any other thoughts from his mind.

  “That’ll keep you busy.” 000 chuckled. “See you tomorrow.” It slammed the door, its chortles echoing down the tunnel.

  Roberto crawled to the wall, his sharding chains graunching against his bones as he got tangled in them. After waiting to ensure 000 wasn’t returning, Roberto fumbled with the sleeve of his jerkin, trying to get his clear-mind berries. His stiffened fingers couldn’t grasp the string. After 000 had first poisoned him with limplock, Roberto had taken some of the remedy hidden inside his jerkin. It had slowed the effect of the paralyzing poison, but he hadn’t been able to access it since. Now, his fingers were definitely stiffer and his feet clumsy.

  He’d wait until Zens’ attentiveness slackened. The commander slept for a few hours each night—the only time Roberto could risk thinking clearly, without having to block Zens. Face throbbing and body aching all over, Roberto closed his eyes.

  §

  Ezaara gripped a rocky outcrop so tight, her fingers ached. Blood flooded her mouth from biting her lip to stop herself from screaming. Her stomach roiled with nausea. 000 left the cavern, slamming the door. Roberto was crawling agonizingly slowly back to the wall he was chained to. Those few short paces took him forever. When he got there, he slumped, his face a bloody mess. His jerkin was slashed, encrusted with dried blood and limplock. Gritting his teeth, he fumbled at his sleeve with awkward fingers. His eyelids drooped and he fell into a fitful doze.

  She’d been a fool. Why had she listened to the council? Tonio’s old grudge had broken the man she loved. Ezaara longed to mind-meld with Roberto, but Zens might sense her, so she kept her mind submerged, waiting for Roberto to wake.

  Hours later, Roberto stirred and looked around the cavern. Ezaara started, dropping her flatbread. He seemed more alert than earlier, flexing his fingers, rotating his ankles and hands. Shards, no. He no longer had complete control over them. His fingers were stiff, curled like claws. Limplock was slowly paralyz
ing him.

  Her nightmare had been two nights ago. He’d be dead in a day. Maybe less—he’d had a lot of limplock. Ezaara’s throat tightened. She had to do something. Ezaara chewed more freshweed, and waited impatiently for it to take effect. Tharuk troops regularly tromped along the main tunnel, so she couldn’t use that. She’d have to risk going deeper into the mountain. Would this maze of tunnels lead her to Roberto? There was only one way to find out.

  She cast her mind out cautiously, but found nothing. Not a trace of a tharuk mind bender, nor Zens. She shook a vial of dragon’s breath, covered it with a rag to dim its light, and set off. The tunnel twisted, angling toward Roberto’s cell. She crawled on. Every scrape of her hands and knees on rock was nothing compared to how Roberto was suffering. After a while, a breeze wafted across her cheek. Stopping, she shone the dragon’s breath around the tunnel. In the stone roof was a narrow opening. Ezaara hoisted herself up and squeezed into the gap. Gods, she could barely fit. On her stomach and elbows, with the vial of light between her lips, she dragged herself along this new shaft. Her rucksack caught on rock. She tugged. Something gave—with a crack. Ezaara wriggled off her straps and shone her light. The blade of her hacksaw had been sticking out of her rucksack and snapped off. Of all the cursed luck. She stuffed the broken blade back in and kept going.

  Similar-sized tunnels branched off this one, but Ezaara stayed her course, elbows scraped raw. The passage plunged down to an opening. Ezaara pocketed her light, heart thudding, and peeked out.

  A flickering torch illuminated a heavy wooden door—like Roberto’s—barred with a wooden beam. No one was in sight. Had she found his holding cavern? Or was Zens behind that door? Her heart raced. Gods, not Zens.

  Ezaara dropped to the ground with a soft thud, rolling to her feet. She lifted the bar from the door, staggering under the load, and stowed it in the shadows.

  Further down the tunnel, a tharuk snarled.

  Her heart whacking against her ribs, she opened the door and slipped inside, closing it behind her.

  “You came back.” Roberto, slumped against the wall, smiled. His teeth were stained with blood. He lifted a cramped finger to his lips. “Please don’t speak. We don’t want to wake 000. Keep your thoughts calm. Zens is asleep, but not for long.”

  Ezaara sped across the floor and knelt beside him. She kissed his bloodstained lips, pulling back when he winced. “I’m sorry, I should have come earlier. He’s hurt you so badly …”

  “Do you have a hacksaw? Something to cut my chains?”

  “Yes, but I broke it …” She sawed his chains, barely scratching them with the broken, blunted blade. She yanked them, but they were firmly anchored into the stone. “I can’t free you.” Ezaara opened her healer’s pouch. “But I can heal you. What’s worst?”

  “Leave the blood. Do it surreptitiously so he doesn’t notice.”

  “I’ll start with limplock remedy.”

  “And clear-mind, so I can see your face.”

  Roberto was a mess. Ezaara fought to keep her despair under control. If Zens woke, he’d sense her. Her hands trembled as she shook the yellow granules onto Roberto’s tongue.

  He swallowed them and slumped back against the wall. “So tired.”

  “You need food. Zens has been starving you.” She popped a small piece of flatbread and two clear-mind berries into Roberto’s mouth.

  He chewed, his bent fingers scrabbling at her wrist. “You know I love you?”

  “And I love you too.” She fed him some more and he wolfed it down. The gray film over his eyes was fading, so Ezaara gave him powdered dragon’s scale. “What’s next?”

  “I can see again. You’re beautiful.” He smiled, then winced. “My ribs ache and the wounds on my back may be festering.” Roberto pointed at his front tooth. “This one’s loose.”

  Ezaara unstopped a vial of piaua, put a drop on her finger, and rubbed it into his gum. She lifted his jerkin and applied more to the bruising on his ribs. Two of the wounds on his back were inflamed, oozing pus. There was no time for clean herb, so she dribbled piaua on them, hoping his body could fight the infection once the wounds had closed.

  “My nose aches.”

  The bridge of his nose was swollen. She pressed it and he winced. “I think it’s broken. Here, let me see what I can do.” She rubbed piaua on it and the bone straightened. “I’m leaving the blood. With that swollen eye, I doubt Zens and 000 will notice anything’s been healed.”

  “Good idea. Um … I know another healing remedy …” He grinned.

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “We’ll have to be careful so Zens doesn’t sense us.”

  “Just a small kiss, then?”

  The spark in Roberto’s ebony eyes was his only answer. Their lips brushed. With the tang of Roberto’s blood on her lips, Ezaara kissed him. His dark blue sathir mixed with hers, swirling around them. Like a bird basking in the sun, love unfurled inside her, in a warm glow.

  Roberto stopped, holding her face in his hands. He gasped. “We can’t. Zens will sense us.”

  “I’m watching through that wall. I see every time they beat you.” Ezaara lips trembled. “We have to get you out of here.”

  “Are you alone?”

  She nodded.

  “I thought as much. Tonio said they wouldn’t come after me if I got caught.” Roberto got to his feet and stretched, his shackles clinking. “That’s much better. Thank you.”

  “You look good.” Well, that was an exaggeration. Still battered, he was a mess. “Too good.”

  “And now?” He slumped, drooping his head, his mouth lolling open and fingers curling inward.

  “Like before,” Ezaara said, smiling, trying to encourage him.

  Footfalls thudded out in the corridor.

  “Quick, up there,” Roberto pointed to a narrow hole above his head, shrouded in shadow. “Use this ventilation shaft.”

  “But I unbarred the door. They’ll see.” A bolt of panic shot through her. She stuffed the hacksaw blade into her rucksack.

  “What’s this? Bar gone?” a tharuk grunted outside the door. Wood clattered to the floor. “Hidden? Why?”

  Another tharuk yowled. Scuffling echoed in the tunnel.

  “Hurry, on my shoulders. Now.”

  She scrambled onto Roberto’s injured back and hoisted herself inside the shaft. Her cloak caught on the edge. She yanked, ripping the corner, leaving a tiny scrap hanging on the lip of the shaft. The door thudded open and tharuks bowled inside. Hopefully no one would notice it. She scrambled along the tunnel, Roberto’s fresh screams slicing through the air.

  Spangles

  Tomaaz awoke to someone shaking him in the dark. He fumbled for his healer’s pouch next to the bed and shook a vial of dragon’s breath, illuminating a face. “Kierion? How did you get in here?”

  Grinning, Kierion shrugged. “Ready to go?” He strode to Taliesin’s bed and woke him.

  “Should we really bring Taliesin? He’s just a boy.” He’d been so traumatized in Death Valley, how would he react to tharuks? “What about food? I—”

  “Maaz, I want to come,” Taliesin said, hopping out of bed.

  “It’ll do him good. Come on, Tomaaz, you’re being an old woman. Let’s go before someone sees us.”

  Tomaaz yanked on his boots, helped Taliesin dress and scribbled a note on parchment for his parents. They extinguished the dragon’s breath and sneaked out to the den.

  Riona was waiting next to Maazini with full saddlebags. “Morning, Tomaaz,” Maazini melded. “I’m looking forward to killing some tharuks today.”

  “Maazini and Kierion, I’m worried about Taliesin.” He spoke aloud so they could both hear him.

  “Here, try this.” Kierion threw something to Tomaaz. It clinked as he caught it. “That’s heavy.” He shook it out. It was a tiny chain mail vest, the right size for Taliesin. “Maazini, could you give me some light?” Tomaaz asked, helping the lad into it.

  Taliesin stroked the
chain mail, eyes bright in a flame from Maazini’s jaws.

  They climbed upon their dragons, Taliesin in front of Tomaaz. Hopefully, he wouldn’t regret bringing him.

  “Here, breakfast to eat on the way.” Kierion threw them two small packages, then Riona bunched her legs and took off.

  Maazini and Riona flew up the mountain face to the top of Dragon’s Teeth, then plunged down the southern drop under Heaven’s Peak. Tomaaz’s stomach dropped. Wind flicked Taliesin’s hair into Tomaaz’s face. The early rays of dawn tinged the snow gold as Maazini and Riona followed the ring of Dragon’s Teeth west. Soon, they were above the northern tip of Great Spanglewood Forest, which spread like a haphazardly-thrown rug all the way to the foot of the Terramites. Tomaaz pulled Taliesin firmly against him, relieved when the boy’s tense body relaxed.

  Riona and Maazini landed in a snowy clearing among towering strongwood trees. They walked toward three cabins nestled at the edge of the trees. Taliesin’s eyes were enormous as he gazed around at the forest—very different to the barren hills of Death Valley.

  “Welcome to Mage Gate,” Kierion said.

  “Hope you’ve got some food here,” said Tomaaz. “It’s been ages since that paltry breakfast.”

  “There’s nothing quite like wizard porridge,” Kierion chuckled.

  “The trees are so green, even in winter,” Taliesin piped up, voice still croaky from years of disuse.

  “It’s the spangles. They keep the trees evergreen, even when they’re not,” said Kierion.

  “Spangles?” Taliesin frowned. “When I was a littling, Ma told me a bedtime story about spangles.”

  This was new. Taliesin seldom spoke of his childhood.

  “She said that Anakisha’s littlings sat at her feet while the spangles perched on her knees, telling her littling stories. Ma said she always slept better after a spangle’s tale.”

  Taliesin’s mother was Anakisha’s child? That meant Taliesin was her grandson. No wonder he had the gift of prophecy. Kierion shot Tomaaz a glance. He’d noticed too. “So, spangles are like magical story tellers?” asked Tomaaz.