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

by Eileen Mueller

  “Cheese?” Ezaara asked, ignoring Roberto and slicing a piece off a round of goat cheese. She held it out to Amato on the point of her knife.

  “No, thanks. Too rich for me,” Amato said, helping himself to some dried fish Ezaara had laid out on a cloth.

  How could his father think that just because Roberto had found him, things could be back to normal? Even before he’d disappeared, things hadn’t been a normal for years. From the age of eight, Roberto had sheltered his terrified sister behind the kitchen door as his father beat his mother. Did that old fool think he could come back from that?

  “Roberto, give him a chance.”

  “He never gave me one. Never gave my mother one. Or my sister.” Roberto couldn’t keep the bitterness from his thoughts. He knew he should be trying, but he didn’t want to. Every time he saw Amato’s wizened, stooped figure and his bony ribs poking through his shirt, he knew he should feel sympathy. But how could he feel sympathy for the monster who’d destroyed his life, turned him over to the enemy, and made him a pawn in a game of war?

  And killed his mother.

  “Roberto?”

  “Enough, Ezaara.” He snapped mind-meld, wishing he could stalk off into the rolling meadows, but he couldn’t. He’d never leave Ezaara alone with that traitor. Amato was far too dangerous.

  §

  Erob landed high on a cliff where the jewel beetles bred, just out of Naobia. Memories flooded Roberto: collecting dead beetles to sell at the markets with Pa and Adelina when he was littling, and later, sleeping here for moons, high above the forest, the sea glinting in the distance. He’d wanted to bring Ezaara here—but not with his father.

  Matotoi thudded down to the ledge beside them panting, wings drooping. Amato stirred. Roberto looked up, ignoring his questioning glance.

  Zaarusha rode a thermal, spiraling high above the cliff.

  “Wow, this place is beautiful,” Ezaara mind-melded.

  “It is,” Roberto said. “Did you know I lived here for a few moons after my father’s trial? I left Adelina at Warlin and Anastia’s house, and fled.”

  “It’s such a picturesque, peaceful area, Roberto. Despite the difficulties we’ve had here, I love Naobia. And I love the sea. I can see why you call it home.”

  “Ezaara, anywhere you are is my home now.” It was true. He’d settle in the vicious Robandi desert with her—if that was what she wanted. “And you’re beautiful too.”

  Her laughter drifted down the hillside, freeing the tightness in his chest. “Which cave was yours?” Zaarusha dove, plunging down to land on the ledge. She dipped her head under her wing to preen her scales. Ezaara slid out of the saddle and raced over to Roberto, flinging her arms around him. The moment would have been perfect, except—

  “Roberto,” croaked Amato, “a fine young woman you found yourself. Reminds me of Lucia.”

  Releasing Ezaara, Roberto spun. “How dare you mention her name. You murdered her.” He stabbed a finger at Amato’s face. “The only reason you’re alive is because Zaarusha wants you to be tried. Don’t forget it.”

  Roberto strode into a large cavern where there was room enough for all of them, the others following. There were still rudimentary cooking utensils and grains in jars along the wall where he’d left them. Some of his firewood had been used. The fire pit was still warm. “Someone’s been here recently.”

  “I saw fresh dragon dung on the top of the cliff,” Erob mind-melded.

  Roberto shrugged. “Probably a green guard on patrol.”

  Erob huffed over the hearth, setting the wood alight, and then curled up in his customary spot.

  Amato cowered in a corner next to Matotoi. As he should. It was an insult to think he could waltz back into Roberto’s life.

  Ezaara stared at Roberto. “You’re very harsh on him.”

  “As he was on me, Ezaara.”

  She came over to him and placed her hands on his shoulders. He leaned down, touching foreheads with her. Their breath mingled as she melded, “That’s in the past. Now, Roberto, I know he’s killed people.” She patted the bulging pocket in her jerkin with her notes from the victim’s testimonies, the list of grievances against Amato. “You may not have long with him. I’d hate you to regret your actions when he’s gone. Please find a tiny space in your heart for forgiveness.”

  §

  Roberto awoke in the middle of the night to scratches echoing on stone. Footfalls. He sat bolt upright. Ezaara stirred next to him and rubbed her eyes. There it was again. Someone was creeping into the cave.

  “Roberto, wake up,” Erob warned. “Intruders.”

  Quietly rising to his feet, Roberto pulled on his boots and slung his weapon belt around his hips. He drew his knife. And tiptoed toward the ledge.

  A blaze of Erob’s fire lit up the mouth of the cavern, outlining a man in the gloom. A knife hissed through the air, just missing Roberto’s head and clanging off the stone wall.

  Shielding his eyes from the light, Roberto flung his knife. It bounced off a stone jutting from the cavern wall and clattered to the ground.

  An arrow thudded into the stone. “Let me at the Queen’s Rider. I have unfinished business.”

  Roberto knew that voice—Simeon.

  He drew his sword.

  Another gust of Erob’s flame lit up the darkness.

  Simeon was crouched at the cave mouth, dagger in hand. He leaped at Roberto.

  Roberto parried with his sword, sending Simeon’s knife spinning through the air to skitter along the ledge. “The next thing flying along that ledge will be you, Simeon. Get out of here.” Roberto lunged for him.

  His hair ruffled as an arrow flew past him from behind, narrowly missing Simeon’s chest.

  Simeon raced out of the cavern.

  Zaarusha roared, sending a lick of flame after him, illuminating a beige dragon perched on the lip of the ledge, a rider atop his back.

  By the flaming infernos of hell, it was Unocco and Bruno. Roberto yelled, racing for the ledge.

  Simeon leaped into the saddle behind his father, and they winged off into the darkness. Zaarusha tensed her haunches and sprang after Unocco, blasting flame at his tail.

  Roberto spun to thank Ezaara for her arrow.

  Amato was facing the cavern mouth, another arrow nocked.

  Ezaara shrugged and splayed her hands, her face in shock. Seeing Simeon again had rattled her. She’d always seemed unbreakable, strong. He rushed over, and cradled her in his arms. He should have known it hadn’t been Ezaara who’d fired the arrow because she wouldn’t have missed—her aim was too good.

  Amato had tried to save him.

  Farewell

  Giddi stood on the edge of the crowd as Lars placed Seppi’s body on a blanket on the snow-covered bank of the lake. Snow clouds overhead made the lake’s surface murky and the air chilly. Four dragons gathered around Seppi: Seppi’s valiant blue dragon, Septimor, Handel, Liesar and Antonika. The dragons picked up the ropes extending from the corners of the blanket and ascended, their wingbeats ruffling the onlookers’ hair.

  Gasps broke out as the underside of the blanket revealed a fierce battle scene—Seppi with his sword held high riding Septimor, charging over masses of tharuks, flame spurting from Septimor’s maw. The artist had used a vibrant palette, a testament to Seppi’s fierce courage.

  Giddi blinked, his throat choking. Seppi had been at Dragons’ Hold when Giddi had first been appointed head of the Wizard Council. The blue rider had overseen the training of hundreds of riders. Giddi shook his head. Such needless slaughter of a good man. For more than twenty years, Giddi had been watching friends fall at the hands of Zens’ vile creations. Zens wouldn’t stop at this latest abomination he’d unleashed on the realm—the dark dragon that had murdered Seppi. What other horrors was the commander planning?

  Murmurs of appreciation rippled through the crowd as Lars spoke of Seppi, his valiant deeds, the esteem Dragons’ Hold had for him.

  The four dragons flew high above the lake, S
eppi suspended between them on the blanket. Septimor roared, and the dragons let go of their ropes.

  Seppi’s body plunged through the chilly, gray sky toward the lake. Septimor dove, a torrent of fire erupting from his maw. Seppi’s body burst into flames. He was a pillar of fire streaking through the air. Septimor flew down with him, burning his beloved rider. When there was nothing but ash, Septimor ascended, roaring his grief across the basin of Dragons’ Hold, his cries shattering against the peaks of Dragon’s Teeth.

  Seppi’s dark ashes speckled the water, rippled and dissolved from sight.

  Giddi shook his head. It shouldn’t be like this, that every time someone passed through the veil to fly with the spirits of departed dragons, this fierce, aching grief haunted him. Grief for dead riders, but also for Mazyka and what they’d lost. Grief for the damage that he and she had done to Dragons’ Realm. Grief for the needless suffering of riders like Seppi, who didn’t deserve to die.

  At the edge of the crowd, young Kierion swiped at his eye. The poor lad looked tormented, no doubt riddled with guilt at destroying the piaua that could have saved Seppi. But it wasn’t Kierion’s fault Seppi was dead. No, that responsibility lay firmly with Zens. The commander needed to be destroyed.

  Septimor was racing toward Fire Crag, the northernmost and highest mountain in the ring of Dragon’s Teeth.

  Giddi stretched out his mind. “Septimor, I understand.”

  The anguish ripping through the dragon flooded Giddi senses. His knees buckled. All the dragons of the hold roared, their mighty bellows reverberating through Giddi’s bones. They took to the air, swooping in a circle around the lake.

  Eventually, dragons and riders drifted back to their duties. Giddi stayed, feet numb in the snow. “I’m here when you’re ready, Septimor.”

  A low rumble in his mind was the dragon’s only reply.

  Giddi understood grief. And also the need for silence and solace.

  People drifted past. Soon, Kierion came, Fenni at his side. Master Giddi jerked his head, raising his eyebrows at Kierion.

  Kierion came to Giddi’s side, waiting.

  With a wave of his hand, Giddi dismissed Fenni. “He’ll be with you in due course.”

  Fenni replied with a barely perceptible nod and strode off.

  “I thought you’d be in Montanara,” Giddi said.

  “I stayed to say farewell to Seppi.” Kierion’s voice was tight.

  There was a blue flash on Heaven’s Peak. A roar carried faintly on the breeze.

  “A dragon’s grief is a terrible, beautiful thing,” Giddi murmured.

  Kierion opened his mouth, then snapped his jaw shut and shoved his hands deep in his pockets.

  Giddi placed an arm over the young man’s shoulders. “Commander Zens’ dark dragon killed Seppi.” He stared directly into Kierion’s eyes, glazed with unshed tears. “You can let this destroy you, Kierion, or you can grow from it. We have a realm out there, pristine and beautiful, full of noble people who deserve the best. You can spiral into destruction, blaming yourself, or you can hone yourself into a weapon upon your dragon’s back and destroy the evil breaking our realm.”

  Kierion swiped his eye with his hand and thrust his chin up. “Thank you, Master Giddi.”

  §

  Adelina saw Kierion standing with Master Giddi. More than anything, she wanted to tell him how awful she’d been and bridge the gulf she’d created.

  But with Giddi standing right next to him, and Gret at her side, she could hardly stride up to him and apologize.

  Gret tapped her shoulder. “Did you hear me?”

  “Sorry?”

  “I said, you didn’t hear me, did you?

  Adelina glanced back at Kierion, but he hadn’t even seen her.

  “Come on, it’s cold,” Gret grumbled. “Let’s go inside. I need to pack my saddlebags for Montanara.” Gret swept her along with the crowd into the main cavern.

  She’d talk to Kierion soon. She had to. Gods, her temper could lose her a friend—or more.

  Adelina went back to work at the infirmary.

  By the time she finished, she was exhausted and it was late, so she went straight to her cavern to bed.

  The next morning in the mess cavern, Gret’s seat was empty.

  When Adelina arrived at the infirmary, her friend was still nowhere to be found. “Where’s Gret?” she asked Mara.

  Mara frowned. “Didn’t you know? Gret, Kierion and Fenni left for Montanara last night.”

  Adelina’s heart lurched. Gret had left without saying goodbye.

  Even worse, so had Kierion.

  §

  Hans woke, beaded in sweat, heart pounding. Thank the First Egg, it had only been a dream. He’d seen Marlies standing in the Lush Valley’s square, surrounded by wounded people and steaming entrails of dark dragons. Ezaara and Roberto had been with her too. He rose from bed, padded through to the living area and poured a glass of water from the waterskin.

  The water was cold, refreshing on Hans’ parched throat. Had this latest vision already occurred? Or was it a prophecy goading him to action?

  Behind him, a door creaked. Taliesin entered the room, his footfalls soft.

  “Bad dreams too?” Hans’ asked, knowing the answer before he voiced the question.

  Taliesin nodded, taking the glass from Hans and cradling it in his hands. “I saw dead dragons in a square. Marlies was there too. Tharuks were killing people.” The lad shivered.

  Grim news, indeed. Hans was itching for action, sick of being cooped up here at the hold.

  Klaus wanted him to train this boy in the gift of prophecy. To do that, the lad had to see prophecy in action. There was no point staying here in the hold, awaiting news. It was time this boy cut his teeth in battle.

  He jerked his chin at Taliesin. “Come on, Taliesin, let’s grab our weapons, riders’ garb and winter cloaks. We’re going to Lush Valley.”

  §

  Lovina adjusted her weight on the bed and picked up her charcoal, tilting her head to gaze at Tomaaz. She added some shadow to her sketch, under his left cheekbone. “Have you seen Unocco lately?”

  “No, not lately. Why?” Tomaaz shifted on his chair.

  “Don’t do that, you’ll ruin my drawing.”

  He shifted back. “Not that we should be drawing when there’s so much to do.”

  “Tomaaz, it’s late. You were on patrol at the crack of dawn.” She smudged the shadow with her finger tip. “And apart from Seppi’s funeral, you haven’t taken a break from patrol all day. You need time to rest.”

  “And sitting still like a statue is resting?” He laughed. “You just want to sketch.”

  “Wouldn’t you, with such a good-looking subject?” She raised an eyebrow, her face warming.

  He grinned and winked. “You’re really blossoming, you know that? Such a change.” He cocked his head. “Why were you asking about Unocco?”

  “Ajeurina’s worried.” Lovina set her parchment and charcoal on her bed, and patted the quilt. Tomaaz came over and sat next to her. “The night before the dark dragon attacked, Unocco was pining after Bruno.”

  “I guess that’s to be expected.” He took her hand, threading his fingers through hers. “The bond between dragon and rider runs deep, even if Bruno treated him badly.”

  Lovina swatted his arm. “I know that.”

  “So, you’re worried he’s lonely?”

  “No, Tomaaz. It’s more urgent than that. Unocco hasn’t been seen for days. He may have gone after Bruno. I think I should tell Lars. Will you come with me?”

  He leaned in and kissed her hair, his comforting warmth seeping into her side. How had she lived before him? Her life had been so bleak.

  “You’re remembering, aren’t you?” He kissed her cheek, his breath fanning her lips. “It’s all right, the old memories will fade as we make new ones. Lots of them.”

  Hand in hand, they walked along the stone tunnels to Lars’ cavern and told him what Ajeurina suspected.

/>   Lars scratched his blond beard. “Thank you for bringing this before me, Lovina. However, I doubt that a dragon that has been maliciously implanted with a crystal would be that eager to meet with his ex-rider.”

  “But that’s the thing, Lars. My information comes from Ajeurina.” Lovina stood straight, her chin high, grateful for Tomaaz’s warm hand on the small of her back. “Ajeurina’s agitated. She believes Unocco has gone to the Wastelands to look for Bruno.”

  “That’s preposterous.” Lars paced before his hearth. “Why would Unocco do that? We all know there’s barely a chance of surviving the Wastelands.”

  “Ajeurina disagrees. She heard Unocco thinking about how Ezaara and Roberto had survived.”

  “That was different,” said Lars. “They had help from the desert assassin.”

  “Exactly,” said Lovina. “If Unocco helps Bruno, then perhaps he’ll survive too.”

  The Nightshaders

  Kitted out as travelers with rucksacks on their backs and a range of weapons—both visible and concealed—Kierion, Fenni and Gret made their way through the edge of Great Spanglewood Forest.

  “My father’s farm is only half an hour’s walk from here,” Kierion whispered. “But we’ll need to move fast. I don’t want to be caught out at night by a passing tharuk.”

  Gret glanced around quickly before answering, “Are you sure your family won’t mind us staying the night?”

  “Of course not.” He chuckled softly. “My brothers and sisters will probably think you’re my girlfriend.”

  Fenni cleared his throat. “They’d better not.”

  That elicited a quiet laugh from Gret. “I’ve got no chance with Kierion,” she said. “Everyone knows he only has eyes for Adelina.”

  “True.” Fenni chuckled. “She’s got you wrapped around her finger, my friend.”