“Fine,” Klaus nodded. “I’ll be marshaling the troops and fighting from the square.”
After Klaus departed and they’d eaten, she and Leah hopped into the large bed. Within moments, the girl was asleep. Marlies blew out the candle. The soft gurgle of the nearby river drifted through the open window. Melding with Liesar, she asked, “Did you find something to eat? Are you warm and safe for the night?”
“I was about to ask you the same. I’m in the trees near the river. You just snuffed out your candle, didn’t you, and went to bed?”
Marlies smiled. “I did. Good night.” She drifted to sleep.
§
Marlies and Leah were up at dawn. They ate, packed everything into Liesar’s saddlebags, and donned their cloaks.
“I’m ready,” Liesar stretched her wings, then furled them again.
“We’ll walk. It’s only a short way,” Marlies said. “Rest up for the return flight,”
She and Leah picked their way through the trees along the riverbank, over the stepping stones across the river, and into the forest. Memories rushed at Marlies: the twins learning to swim; summers laughing in the sun; teaching Ezaara how to find herbs in this very forest; and her farewelling the piaua tree, collecting the blue berries that had put her in a coma when she was in Death Valley. The very berries that had saved her life—only to give her this wasting sickness.
A tingle ran down Marlies’ neck.
“Something’s not right,” Leah whispered.
Marlies pulled Leah off the track. They stealthily picked their way through the trees on the soft carpet of soggy leaf litter, avoiding patches of snow that would capture their tracks or sticks that could crack. Constantly scanning the woods, Marlies led Leah toward the sacred clearing, eager to see the piaua tree she’d grown to love during her long sojourn in Lush Valley.
When they reached the sacred clearing—or what was left of it—a huge wall of dead foliage met Marlies where there should’ve been grass. By the dragon gods, no! The giant piaua lay across the clearing, its trunk gouged, hacked, and denuded of branches. Its browned leaves blocked her path.
Marlies bashed her way past the foliage to get to the trunk, Leah following. Not only had the poor tree’s trunk been hewn down with axes, the entire length of it had been scarred by tharuk claws, deep violent gouges that had bled precious life-giving sap. She pulled a small metal tube from her healer’s pouch and shoved it into a bubble of green sap. The bubble shattered, spraying broken fragments through the air like tiny emeralds.
“We’re too late,” she whispered. “It’s hardened.” She sank to her knees, and jammed the tube into another chunk of sap, but it, too, shattered, spraying shards of dried piaua juice over the dead leaves.
Leah scrambled on hands and knees, trying to pick up the pieces.
Marlies shook her head. “It’s no good. It has to be fresh. Dried, it has no restorative quality.” Clambering to her feet, she raced to the crisp foliage, hunting for green leaves.
Leah joined her search, dry leaves rustling like a rattlesnake. “So, the juice from the leaves works too?”
“Yes, it does. Both the sap and the leaf juice contain the same life-giving substance.” She frantically parted the browned leaves, careful not to dislodge the wrinkled dark blue berries hanging from the dried stalks. There was not a living leaf among them.
Marlies took Leah’s hands in hers. “Leah, I want you to remember this tree. Look at the pitted, gnarly bark, the shape of the leaves and trunk. We cannot rest until we find another piaua. The fate of Dragons’ Realm depends on us.”
Leah’s straightened. “Yes, Marlies, I understand. The young trees, what do they look like?”
“I’ll get Liesar to show you her memory of one.” Marlies took one long look at the dried blue berries. Should she? Was this knowledge too dangerous for a young girl?
Leah’s quick eyes scanned her face. “What is it? I’m not afraid.”
Marlies bit her lip, then plunged in. “These berries create a condition called witch of blue. Anyone who eats them slips into an unconscious state, with a slowed heartbeat and very light breathing. The only remedy is piaua juice, a whole vial for a handful of berries. But there’s a cost. Once the remedy has been taken, the juice slowly leaches life. Deep exhaustion dogs the person who has taken them, and their life span can be reduced.”
“I’d heard you used the berries in Death Valley. Is that why you’re so weary?” Leah’s shrewd eyes missed nothing. Another reason she’d make a good healer.
Marlies closed her eyes, took a deep breath. “Yes.” There, she’d said it.
“If we going to find more piaua, we’d better get moving,” Leah said.
A bone-chilling snarl echoed through the clearing. Marlies whipped her sword from her scabbard and spun.
Four tharuks, claws bared, were blocking their path back to Lush Valley. One of them held a bow, nocked with an arrow dripping with green limplock—Zens’ poison.
Before Marlies could draw breath, Leah drew and flicked her knife, embedding it in the skull of a tharuk. The other brute loosed its arrow. Marlies pushed Leah to the ground, the arrow whizzing over their heads. She leaped to her feet, sword out, and charged the beasts.
The archer had another arrow ready. An ear-splitting roar rang above the clearing. In a flash of silver, Liesar dove, snatching up two tharuks in her talons and impaling their bodies upon tall pines. Only the archer remained. He shot an arrow that zipped past Marlies ear as she zigzagged across the clearing toward it.
Liesar got there first. With a swipe of her talons, she tore the tharuk’s abdomen open. It dropped the bow, trying to hold its guts in. Liesar blew a gust of flame that burned its head to a charred stump. The tharuk crumbled to the ground, and Liesar stamped its carcass into the earth. “Come,” she said. “There are worse things attacking Lush Valley.”
Roars rang from the village.
Starrus Strikes
Tomaaz and Jael entered the council chambers carrying mugs of soppleberry tea. Although Jael was a master mage and regularly attended council meetings, Tomaaz usually didn’t; however, they had to report killing the dark dragon. He nodded at Master Tonio while Jael stopped to talk to Masters Giddi and Starrus.
Master Torston bustled into the room and took his seat between Starrus and Alyssa. Across the table, Masters Derek and Hendrick shared a joke, chuckling quietly.
Lars stood behind the table, his knuckles on the granite tabletop. Tomaaz glanced around. Ezaara and Roberto were missing and way overdue, and Ma and Pa weren’t here either. Maazini had told him Pa had left for Lush Valley after seeing a bad vision—and Ezaara’s delay didn’t bode well.
Tomaaz gripped his mug a little harder. His nose twitched at the scent of healing salve still clinging to his fingers after tending Maazini’s injuries. He and Jael took the seats to the left of Master Giddi and Lars began the meeting.
“Another dragon rider has died battling a second shadow dragon—an unfortunate incident.” Deep lines furrowed the edges of Lars’ mouth. “However, with our healing supplies depleted, no piaua and our healer elsewhere, we must forge on with what we’ve got.” He turned to the leader of the Wizard Council. “Starrus, do you have any mages gifted in healing who could lend us a hand in the infirmary?”
“Jael, but it’s not really his strength,” said Master Starrus. “He’s more valuable in battle.”
“Perhaps we could use him anyway,” Lars said. “People are dying.”
“He’s a mage under my jurisdiction,” Starrus snapped, “and not yours to command. We need him to fight.”
Next to Starrus, Master Giddi shook his head. “If I may interrupt—”
Starrus’ head snapped around. “No, you may not. Your superior is speaking.”
Tomaaz coughed, fighting not to splutter his tea everywhere. Everyone knew Master Giddi was more powerful than Starrus.
Jael’s lips were pressed tight. His hands clenched into fists in his lap.
Lars i
gnored Starrus’ outburst, continuing to address the council. “In our Queen’s Rider’s absence, as the leader of Dragons’ Hold, I issue a decree for the safety of all citizens, dragons, riders…”—he glared at Starrus—“…and mages. No matter how powerful or talented they are, there will be no lone riders or passengers flying outside Dragon’s Teeth. This war will not be over in a day. We must think strategically, plan strategically. We can’t risk our people. We need them to battle Zens. Whenever possible, two to five dragons should travel together. Have I made myself clear?” His steely gaze roamed around the table.
Master Giddi nodded. Nods and murmurs of assent rippled around the cavern.
Starrus’ eyes glinted with cunning.
Jael nudged Tomaaz—he’d noticed it too.
Lars cleared his throat. “Tomaaz and Jael killed a shadow dragon earlier today and faced another five days ago. Maybe the one that killed Seppi. I call on them to report.”
Jael and Tomaaz stood, but before they could open their mouths, Starrus blustered, “I’ve spoken to Jael. As his leader, I’ll handle it.” He waved them to sit. Tomaaz caught Jael’s arm before he could obey, and they remained standing.
The leader of the Wizard Council plowed ahead. “Dark dragons emit a high-pitched scream that subjects hearers to mental anguish,” Starrus said as if he’d experienced it himself. “The victims of such attacks, both dragons and men alike, report splitting head pain, throbbing skulls and an inability to think coherently. Our wizards with their flame should be able to combat this.”
Jael cleared his throat. “If I may, mage flame is one defense, but not the entire answer,” he said quietly but with conviction.
Starrus rounded on Jael. “You mustn’t have been concentrating. Did that beast take you by surprise? Or are Naobians unable to think as quickly as we Northerners? Why, I bet if I was out there, dark dragons would be dropping like flies. Why, I’d—”
That trumped-up idiot. “Master Starrus,” Tomaaz barked,” I suggest that if you were out there you’d risk being sliced in half by the rays that shoot from the beasts’ eyes.”
“Or burned out of your seat with mage flame from the mages Zens has kidnapped,” Jael added.
“Mages?” Lars barked. “What’s this?”
Starrus snapped his jaw shut, glaring at Jael.
“We killed a dark dragon, an old, weak one.” Jael sighed. “Velrama was riding another dark dragon and tried to kill us.”
Master Tonio’s fingernails tapped an agitated staccato rhythm on the table. “I told everyone not to trust mages.”
“We can’t trust anyone,” Tomaaz said. “We know Zens uses those crystals to control people. We suspect that’s what’s wrong with Velrama.”
Murmurs broke out among the council members. Lars hushed them with a wave of his hand.
“Where’s Velrama now?” he asked.
“Blue guards chased her, but they said she got away,” Jael said. “The strange thing is that from the burn marks on its wings, the old dragon we killed was the same one that attacked us five days ago.”
“What’s so strange about that?” Starrus sneered.
“Silence,” Lars roared. “Or I’ll cast you from this hold.”
“Really? After issuing an edict that no one—mage or rider—must travel alone?” Starrus raised an eyebrow.
“Please continue, Master Jael,” Lars said, ignoring Starrus.
“It was like the dragon had aged years in just a few days.” Jael shrugged.
Tomaaz spoke up. “Maazini was hurt. The dragon’s eyes sliced his leg, just like Seppi’s belly.”
Lars nodded. “As implausible as it sounds, Marlies suspected that too.”
“And there’s another thing,” Tomaaz said. “I don’t think those dragons are deliberately torturing us.” Every head in the room turned to him. “I think they’re in pain. Zens may have created them, but whatever he’s doing to control them is killing them.”
A clamor of voices arose, masters shouting at one another.
Jael pounded his fist on the granite table and stood. “Stop! Listen. None of you have dealt with them. You have to believe us.”
From the cynical expressions on their faces, no one did—except Master Giddi, who was nodding thoughtfully.
“Let’s double our patrols,” Lars said. “Be vigilant. Inform everyone they mustn’t stray from the hold alone until we know how to defeat these beasts.” He smacked his gavel on the table. “Council dismissed.”
§
Giddi roamed the hold’s warren of tunnels. The stone walls were so familiar, yet it had been so long. Thank the flaming First Dragon Egg that Kierion and Fenni had managed to bring mages and dragon riders together again. Although it had also taken tharuks kidnapping young mages and burning the homes of every mage to the ground.
And what had Marlies’ son meant about these dark dragons being in pain? Even dying. Or aging prematurely, by the sounds of what Jael said. Giddi paced on, nodding at people, lost in his thoughts. When he reached the steps to the dungeons, he turned and paced back again. As he passed the mess cavern, he sensed the hum of sathir behind him and turned.
Starrus was smiling smugly, his white plaited beard threaded with wizard-leader crystals that he didn’t deserve. How many hours that man spent preening in the mirror was beyond Giddi. Didn’t Starrus realize they were at war?
“Good afternoon, Giddi.” Starrus slicked his greeting with derision; he’d dropped Giddi’s honorific.
Two could play at that game. “Good afternoon, Master Starrus, highly esteemed leader of the Wizard Council. How may I help you?”
A blue vein pulsed at Starrus’ temple.
It didn’t take much to tip this master mage over the edge. He was as volatile as a hungry dragonet.
“It’s good that you asked. I have just the job for you.”
Giddi’s whole body went still—except for his thundering heart.
“Seppi’s dragon, Septimor, needs to stretch his wings. As you can see from that shambles of a council meeting, we need more information about how to kill these dark dragons. The Wizard Council has decided that you would be best suited to investigate their response to mage flame. I hereby assign you and Septimor to hunt down a dark dragon in Great Spanglewood Forest and kill it.”
What a load of shrot! The Wizard Council would never sanction anything against Lars’ decree. More than one young mage had been burned by following Starrus’ personal instructions.
“If you don’t go,” Starrus sneered, “you will be expelled from Dragons’ Hold.”
An empty bluff. For a moment Giddi considered refusing, but only for a moment. These dark dragons had been keeping him awake at night. He’d been itching to know what Zens was breeding in Death Valley. This order from his incompetent superior would give him the perfect excuse to figure out how to defeat Zens’ creatures.
Giddi remained as still as a dragon about to pounce.
Until the silence crackled with mage power.
He gave Starrus the smile of a dragon playing with dinner. “Excellent. Thank you for doing me a favor.” He winked.
Starrus’ mouth opened but nothing came out, so Giddi filled the stunned silence. “I’ll go immediately. I’m honored that you’ve chosen me for this difficult task.” He flung sparks from his fingers that burst into floral bouquets as they hit the cavern walls—a trick that Starrus had never mastered, although many a fledgling wizard had.
Giddi pushed past a group of riders that had just left the mess cavern, nodding at Jael and Tomaaz, and took the turnoff to Seppi’s cavern, melding with the dragon before he got there—a talent he’d mastered in his littling years. “Septimor, I’m so sorry you’ve lost your rider. Seppi was a good man, one of the bravest.” He strode through Seppi’s cavern, past his empty bed, out to Septimor’s den on the ledge. Septimor’s mighty blue form was curled under the overhang at the back of the ledge, away from the snow. The air was crisp. Giddi pulled his cloak tighter.
“He was
the bravest.” The dragon’s loss washed over Giddi like winter rain. “Life is so colorless without him.” He raised his scaly head and large eyes to regard Giddi.
Giddi walked over and stroked Septimor’s nose. The dragon leaned into his touch. “How can I help you, Giddi?”
“I wish I could help you.” Giddi sighed. It felt so wrong to bother a grieving dragon. Why had he agreed to this ridiculous jaunt?
“What is it?” Septimor’s voice was so gentle, so peaceful.
“Starrus has asked us to traverse Great Spanglewood Forest to hunt a dark dragon... with your permission of course.”
Septimor opened his mind. A band of pain tightened around Giddi’s head and that gods-awful scream that everyone talked about became reality. “Are you ready to deal with that?” Septimor asked.
“I don’t think anybody is,” Giddi whispered, mind blocking and shutting it out. Even with his years of experience, the sound battered at his defenses. “Which is why we need to find out what’ll work. If we can’t defeat them, Dragons’ Realm is doomed. Dragons and their riders will be a dying breed. Though I fear Starrus is trying to kill me, we can’t let Zens and these beasts win.”
The battering at Giddi’s head stopped. He let Septimor back into his mind.
“Very well,” the blue dragon said. “And if we die, we’ll have noble deaths for the cause of the realm.”
Giddi closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and hoisted Septimor’s saddle up from the ledge and onto the dragon’s back. Septimor stood, and Giddi cinched the strap under him. He piled Seppi’s bow and arrows into the saddlebags and clambered up. With a leap, they were airborne, flying over the snowy vista of Dragons’ Hold, the wind streaming in Giddi’s face, and his magic thrumming inside him.
He’d missed living here, laughing and fighting with dragon riders. Although he’d enjoyed the time in his solitary cabin in Great Spanglewood Forest, it’d been a mere shadow of the rich, full life he’d had with Mazyka here at Dragons’ Hold as the leader of the Wizard Council, the only dragon mage in the realm.
§
Riders of Fire Complete Series Box Set books 1-6: YA Epic Fantasy Dragon Rider Adventures Page 114
