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

by Eileen Mueller

  Roberto snatched his extra bow out of Erob’s rear saddlebag and grabbed an arrow from his quiver. A littling ran screaming down a dirt road, chased by a giant dark dragon.

  “A littling? Really, those foul things are utter cowards.” Erob lunged a taloned foot at the dragon, shredding its wing from above. Its scream shredded Roberto’s mind.

  Roberto shot the beast through the skull. Ash billowed in the air as it landed on a pile of charred rubble.

  Erob wheeled in the air and helped Matotoi burn two more of the vile beasts, searing the flesh from their bones.

  Roberto whirled, not daring to meld with Erob. He scanned the skies for Liesar and Zaarusha.

  A raging torrent of fire erupted over Roberto’s shoulder. Erob wheeled in midair, roaring and belching flame at their attacker’s underbelly. The scent of burnt hair filled Roberto’s nostrils. They dove, then shot up to attack. Roberto loosed an arrow into the dragon’s belly. Blood dripped on him and Erob as they ducked between the dark dragons.

  A littling boy screamed, pointing at the sky.

  Roberto followed his gaze to see Ezaara upon Zaarusha.

  Oh, gods! Ezaara’s arrow was sighted on Liesar, who was battling a horde of black dragons—and losing. Liesar plunged earthward. Ezaara waiting, raised herself up in the stirrups and aimed.

  Roberto’s heart caught in his throat. Cold dread swept over him, trickling through his marrow. Ezaara was aiming at Marlies.

  Stranded

  Dusk was creeping over Spanglewood forest, a blazing orange sunset painting the snow-dappled woods—usually Giddi’s favorite time of day. But he had no eyes for nature’s beauty. One foot in front of the other, he doggedly strode toward Dragon’s Teeth looming in the distance above the trees.

  “Can anyone hear me?” A few more steps, and then a few more. He’d get there eventually.

  “Master Giddi?” A faint voice drifted into his mind. He must be dozing on his feet.

  The voice came again. “Master Giddi.”

  Too tired to feel relief or even joy, Giddi kept traipsing. “Yes, Maazini, it’s me.”

  “I can’t meld with Septimor.”

  “I’m alone.” There’d be time for explanations later. Right now, he had to keep moving or he’d collapse and freeze in the snow. He managed a trickle of magic to warm his hands.

  “You’re exhausted, aren’t you? I can feel it.” Maazini’s voice was steadily growing stronger. “Something terrible must’ve happened for you to feel like this. Can you show me your surroundings so I can find you?”

  Even that was useless—trees were trees were trees—how could Maazini tell one tree from another? Too tired to argue, Giddi obliged.

  The dragon kept prattling, chatting to him about anything. The sly beast was ensuring he didn’t drop dead in the snow. Grateful for the company, Giddi kept trudging.

  §

  “Where is he?” Tomaaz asked.

  “I have no idea,” replied Maazini. “If I can just keep him talking and thinking, then his voice will grow stronger as we near him.” Maazini swerved to the left. “This way, it grows fainter.” He swerved back to the right. “He’s in this direction, see?”

  Snow flakes drifted from dark clouds, speckling Maazini’s orange hide like goose down.

  “I’m not about to start honking, if that’s what you think.” Maazini quipped. “Now, stop worrying like an old mother hen. We’ll find him soon enough.”

  Tomaaz couldn’t laugh. In moments, it would be dark. He gnawed his bottom lip. “I think I know why he left the hold alone.”

  “I’m afraid I do too,” Maazini answered, then resumed his chatter with the dragon mage.

  §

  When they retrieved Giddi, he insisted that Tomaaz take him straight to Lars, although Tomaaz had no idea why. In Tomaaz’s opinion, Giddi would be better off in the infirmary tucked up in bed. Tomaaz had Maazini meld with Singlar. Maazini paused for a moment before they swept into the main cavern, and landed on the rock stage.

  On the floor of the cavern, mages and riders were training with swords, arrows, blades and flame. Dragons observed from the stage and ledges high on the cavern walls.

  Lars took one look at Giddi slumped over Maazini’s neck—and ran over.

  Tomaaz shook Giddi gently. The mage roused, pushed himself up off Maazini’s spinal ridge and slid to the floor, stumbling like a drunk.

  Lars grabbed him and thrust Giddi’s arm over his shoulder. “What happened, Giddi?”

  Master Starrus was in the middle of instructing a group of junior mages.

  Giddi turned, pointing at Starrus. “Him. He happened.”

  Lars’ bushy eyebrows drew down in an ominous frown. “Master Starrus, come here at once,” he bellowed.

  Starrus whirled to face them, sneering, “I don’t answer to dragon riders.”

  Roars rippled through the cavern.

  Lars spoke softly. “The dragons seem to think otherwise, Starrus. I suggest you come here.”

  Giddi held out a shaking finger, sparks dripping from it and creating molten pools of fire on the floor. “A dragon has died today because of you.”

  Gasps rippled through the crowd.

  “What’s the meaning of this? Which dragon?” Lars demanded.

  “Master Starrus insisted I take Septimor out to find a dark dragon and unlock the secret to defeating it.”

  “I did no such thing,” Starrus said. “This arrogant master wizard, lusting after power and greed as he always has, insisted that he take Septimor—the poor, grieving dragon—on his own to Spanglewood to search for dark dragons.”

  Tomaaz slipped off Maazini and strode over to join Giddi. “I was leaving the mess cavern this afternoon, when I overheard Starrus order Master Giddi to go. He threatened him with expulsion from Dragons’ Hold if he didn’t obey. Knowing it was none of my business, I let the matter rest. But if I’d stepped in, Septimor might still be alive.” His hand brushed the hilt of his sword. “Master Starrus is a liar.”

  “Master Starrus shall be given fair trial for the reckless death of a dragon,” Lars said. “We don’t dispense justice here. And Master Giddi will also need to face Starrus’ accusations.”

  Master Giddi straightened, pushing Lars aside. “Since I stepped down from the Wizard Council—”

  “With good reason,” bellowed Starrus.

  Giddi continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “…you have persecuted me at every move. Your pompous arrogance has cost mages’ lives and now the life of a fine dragon. Your energy has been wasted in displays of power and pettiness instead of uniting to fight our true enemy, Commander Zens. I suggest we vote as mages to elect a new Wizard Council.”

  Starrus smirked. “And I suppose you think you’d be the head of that new Wizard Council?”

  Giddi shook his head. “No, I’m no longer worthy of that title.”

  Wizards murmured. Babble grew as people sheathed swords and stared.

  Master Reina held up her hands. “I suggest we settle it now. A vote will be binding, so consider this matter carefully. Any fair trial of Starrus or Giddi will take place afterward. However, I declare the current Wizard Council defunct. And insist that we vote immediately to reinstate another. We are at war. We cannot have bickering among us.

  Lars, silent, hovered near Giddi.

  Nominations were called for. Tomaaz wasn’t surprised that Starrus’ name was not among them. Some suggested Master Reina; some, Master Hemlon; and others, Master Giddi. When it came time to vote, Master Giddi was declared the new leader of the Wizard Council.

  He shook his head sadly, “I told you, I’m not worthy to lead you.”

  Starrus’ face contorted, red blotches marring his cheeks. “You heard him!” he shrieked. “He said he’s not worthy, and I agree.” Beard bristling and fingers crackling with power, Starrus flung his hand and a bolt of sizzling mage fire slammed Giddi’s chest.

  Giddi was thrown backward, smacking into the floor. Without Master Giddi even twitching, a c
ircle of hissing fire sprang up around Starrus, imprisoning him. Giddi scrambled to his feet and faced him. “I may not be worthy, but you are even less so. As leader of the Wizard Council, I now declare you disempowered.”

  Giddi snapped his fingers.

  Blue guards swooped to the stage. The riders manhandled Starrus onto a giant cobalt dragon.

  “Take him to the dungeons,” Master Giddi said, swaying.

  Tomaaz and Jael rushed to Giddi, each giving him a shoulder to lean on.

  The reinstated leader of the Wizard Council croaked, “I know why Zens kidnapped Sorcha and Velrama. He’s breeding them, the way he makes tharuks and dragons.”

  “What do you mean? Tomaaz asked. That was crazy. If the two wizards bred, it would take years before their offspring were old enough to wield magic.

  “I saw them on dark dragons. Two of Sorcha, both trying to kill me.” His voice cracked and he shook his head. “He was a fine student. And now he’s dead. I had no choice but to kill him. Twice.” His desolate eyes turned to Lars. “And Septimor’s dead too. A terrible death, lanced by an oak, with his bowels strung across the tree. I burned him. Neither he nor Seppi deserved to die.”

  “Gods,” whispered Jael, “Zens can now breed an army of Sorchas and Velramas. What hope do we have against countless mages?”

  Thwarted

  Ezaara stood in the stirrups. “Kill her. Kill!” The voices screeched. “Killing that woman will stop the screaming in your head. She’s making the noise, that evil woman on the silver dragon.”

  That dark-haired woman had to go.

  Ezaara raised her bow. Just a few more moments, and that evil woman’s screaming would be gone.

  “It’s the silver dragon, too,” the voice screamed. “Kill it, and you’ll be free.” Shadows danced across her vision. Her arm throbbed unnaturally. “She did it. That witch injured you,” whispered the dark voices.

  Ezaara eased the bowstring back. That terrible silver beast was bucking and thrashing. Any moment now, it would still, and she could take her shot. She pulled her bowstring taut.

  The shining dragon swooped. Soon it would be in range. Ezaara waited, arrow ready.

  §

  “Erob, quick!” Despite the crushing anguish in his head, Roberto melded with Erob. “Hurry!”

  Beating his mighty wings, the blue dragon climbed. Erob rose above Zaarusha’s tail and banked toward the queen. Roberto let go, flying from the saddle and diving toward Zaarusha. He slammed into Ezaara, toppling her from the saddle. Her arrow flew wide past Liesar, scoring a dark dragon’s belly.

  Roberto hung on to Ezaara as they tumbled through the air. She fought, clawing at his face. His cheeks were slick and warm. Blood. No, this wasn’t like her. Something was terribly wrong. He hung on tight, protectively cradling her body.

  “Roberto, are you mad?” Zaarusha’s yell reverberated through the screams chorusing in Roberto’s head. She dove, the rush of wind from her wings blasting past Roberto and Ezaara. “Why did you push the Queen’s Rider from my saddle?” She grabbed them with her talons, jolting Roberto’s body, but he hung on tight even though Ezaara pummeled his face.

  Despite the ear-shredding pain, Roberto melded, “She was trying to shoot Marlies.”

  The queen of the dragons’ shock jolted through Roberto. “Impossible. Ezaara and I flew here to save her mother, not kill her.”

  Roberto choked out a sob. “I know.”

  Her face a snarling frenzy, Ezaara grabbed his throat, squeezing until he gurgled.

  Zaarusha beat her wings, swooping toward a meadow on the outskirts of the village, containing the charred ruins of a home. She deposited them on the grass.

  Ezaara shoved him away, and stood, chest heaving and knife in hand—aimed at him. A broken arrow shaft was stuck in her upper arm.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  As she glanced down, he tackled her to the ground, and straddled her back. He bent her arm high up her back.

  “Drop the knife,” he muttered.

  She complied, snarling and thrashing her legs

  He held her fast. Whatever had caused her treacherous actions, must be on that arrow.

  §

  Klaus thrust Leah into a corner of the village square to fight alongside young men, littlings and a group of seasoned farmers. As tharuks rampaged through the village, they tried to hold an entrance to the square, barricading it with barrels and trestle tables—anything to stop the beasts from swarming in.

  A tharuk charged through the barricade, splintering a table. A boy grabbed a long shard of wood and hefted it.

  “Watch out,” Paolo called, thrusting his sword into the beast’s belly.

  It crumpled to the cobbles.

  A big tharuk bellowed, “Kill them.” A troop of the monsters rushed through the gap.

  Waving her sword, Leah deflected a tharuk’s claws, but it was so strong she nearly lost her grip. A tall lad thrust forward, jabbing a knife deep into the tharuk’s eye. Black blood sprayed over them as it slumped to the ground.

  Another replaced it, a beast with a shattered tusk and a gash across its face. The thing’s stench wafted over them, making Leah’s stomach curdle. What in the dragon’s name did these monsters eat? They always stank.

  The beast gave an awful guffaw and prowled toward her, beady red eyes glinting. “What we got here? I sick of eating rat. Roast little ones, I say.”

  The big tharuk slashed the beast with its claws, ripping its throat out in a spray of black blood. “Zens say eat no human. Or you dead.” It waved its troop forward. “Now, charge.”

  Leah batted her sword against a tharuk’s claws and ducked as another swiped for her head. Paolo jumped behind her so they were back to back. He swung his sword at an approaching beast, spraying black blood. Leah struck a tharuk on the arm. It howled and she drove her sword into its thigh. It stumbled, dropped to a knee. Paolo whipped around and smote off its head.

  She kept fighting as more tharuks flooded the square, kicking in doors, chasing villagers, cutting others down as they fled. A dark dragon swooped overhead, breathing fire over roofs. Thatching burst into flame, blazing above the square. Sweat rolling down her forehead and her hand slick with blood, Leah kept fighting.

  A roar reverberated off the buildings, vibrating through Leah’s body.

  Oh, gods, no. Another dragon, one she’d never seen before—a cream tinged with green like pond scum—blasted flame over the square. A tharuk swiped at her and she ducked, rolling on the ground and standing to face another.

  Wait, that pale dragon was flaming the dark ones. It was helping.

  Fear dug its claws deep into Leah’s belly. Made her blood icy. She still hadn’t seen Marlies again. Or Liesar. What if Marlies was dead like those blue dragons in the forest? What if she never came back? A sob built in Leah’s throat. She faltered.

  A tharuk snatched her, lifting her by her shoulders, its claws stabbing through her jerkin. “Stupid little human,” it snarled.

  Leah squeezed her eyes shut against its fetid breath. She was never going to get back to Dragons’ Hold. Never going to be a healer. It was her turn to die.

  The tharuk’s grip loosened. Leah fell onto the cobbles on her backside, eyes flying open. The pale dragon had the tharuk clutched in its talons. The dragon tossed the beast across the smoky square. The tharuk smacked into a stone column, splattering it with black blood, and slid to the ground.

  Paolo raced over and helped her up. “That was close. If it wasn’t for that dragon, you would’ve been rat meat.”

  “Thanks,” she said, shakily.

  The pale dragon swooped again, flame singeing tharuks’ fur. Snarling in rage and pain, the beasts fled.

  Leah sighed. Thank the Egg they were gone.

  A lone tharuk leaped from behind a barrel and roared, launching itself at her.

  A skinny dragon rider rushed over, pushing her aside. He raised his sword. The tharuk impaled itself on the man’s blade, and they crashed to the groun
d.

  Heart ricocheting in her chest, Leah jumped up. She and Paulo rolled the dead tharuk off the man, and helped him up.

  “Y-you s-saved my life,” she gasped.

  The man panted, pulling his sword from the tharuk’s chest with a squelch. He brushed his wispy hair back from his pale face, panting, skinny ribs rising and falling. He nodded. “You’re welcome.” Then he ran across the square.

  “Lucky he was around,” said Paulo. “I didn’t see that tharuk.”

  Leah’s breath gusted out of her. “Neither did I.”

  Klaus ran over. “Pails,” he wheezed, coughing in the smoke. “We need more pails. The village is burning.”

  §

  Marlies spun in her saddle. “Liesar, what’s going on? Where’s Erob?” How had the Queen’s Rider become unseated? She had good riding technique, was always steadfast in the saddle.

  A jet of dark dragon flame shot overhead.

  Liesar roared and swooped down to a meadow, Marlies’ belly rushing into her throat. “Zaarusha and Erob are distressed. Let’s find out what happened.”

  When they landed, Roberto was straddling Ezaara’s back as she thrashed beneath him. Her arm was bloodied and his face bruised and scratched. By the flaming dragon’s claws, what was going on? They were lovers, not enemies.

  Marlies slid off the saddle, legs shaky. She strode toward them, unable to manage a run. “Roberto!” Her voice was sharper than she’d intended.

  “Didn’t Erob tell Liesar?” Roberto panted while struggling with Marlies’ daughter. “Ezaara was shot with a crystal implant, one of Zens’ yellow ones.” Ezaara bucked, and Roberto nearly lost his seating. “Quick, grab a knife. I can’t hold her much longer.”

  “Ezaara, I’m here to help you,” Marlies said. “Please hold still.”

  “Liar!” Ezaara snarled. “You’re the witch that put pain in my head.”

  She was truly far gone. Like Sofia had been. Marlies snatched her blade as Roberto pressed his full bodyweight into Ezaara’s back. A lump in her throat, she placed a knee on Ezaara’s elbow to hold her upper arm still. She slit Ezaara’s sleeve.