Between them, she and Roberto held Ezaara still enough for Marlies to part the edges of the wound with her blade to find the crystal. She reached her fingers into the cut, but the yellow stone wouldn’t budge. She tried again. But something was anchoring the crystal to Ezaara’s flesh. “It’s stuck. I can’t get it out.”
Ezaara shrieked.
Roberto twisted his head, eyes full of anguish. “I don’t care how you do it. Just get that shrotty thing out.”
Easing the edge of the crystal to one side with her blade Marlies thrust her finger into the wound and pulled. Something sharp pierced her fingertip. “Shards! It has barbs on it.” She pushed the blade deeper and twisted it up, flicking the crystal out of the wound.
Ezaara screamed.
Worse than the dragons’ desperate screams in her head, it brought tears to Marlies’ eyes. She was butchering her own daughter. And didn’t have piaua to heal her.
“Oh, gods,” Roberto sobbed.
Marlies held up the crystal. Shaped like an arrowhead, the yellow stone had two metal prongs at its tip and more metal running through its transparent inside. The prong had barbed hooks on the ends that wriggled like a dying insect’s legs. “By the First Egg, I’ve never seen anything like it.” She showed Roberto. “It’s alive, Roberto. Or magicked by powerful mages.” Dark terror rose inside her. How could they ever combat Zens’ creations? The world he came from was so sophisticated—they’d never be able to defeat him.
§
Ezaara’s body went limp under Roberto. His heart was shattered into a million pieces. This desolation and betrayal must’ve been how she’d felt when he’d been implanted with Zens’ yellow crystal and attacked her. She was a better being than him—she’d forgiven him so easily. Taken him back in her arms and told him she’d understood.
“Ezaara, it’s all right,” he crooned. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. This was so wrong.
Roars echoed overhead.
She groaned.
Roberto helped her sit up.
Her eyes flew wide and her mouth drooped. “Oh, Roberto. Your face.” She touched his cheek and her fingers came away bloody. “I’m so sorry. So sorry.”
He put an arm around her, forcing a chuckle. “So now we’re even. Except you gouged me with your nails, but hey, I was going to slit your throat.” He swallowed—hard—the memory of his blood-stained knife rushing through him again.
Flames crackled in the distance. Smoke drifted over them.
Marlies reached into her healer’s pouch and pulled out a bandage and tub of salve. She examined Ezaara’s arm. “There’s no piaua left, Ezaara. I came here to find some, but the tree’s been destroyed.” She opened her mouth as if to say more and then snapped it shut.
“We still have some.” Roberto took a piaua vial from the pouch at Ezaara’s waist.
Marlies held it up to the light. The vial was only a quarter full. “A little,” she murmured, her turquoise eyes grave. “Seppi just died of an infection because we’re out of piaua at the infirmary. This may be the last we have.”
Roberto snatched the vial, tipping a drop on his finger before either of them could protest.
Marlies gasped. “That’s not life-threatening. I’ll stitch it”
“No, Marlies. She’s the Queen’s Rider and we’re in the middle of battle. We don’t have time. We only have four dragons against a swarm.”
He rubbed the piaua deep into Ezaara’s wound and dribbled another drop in, watching the flesh knit over before his eyes.
Although she’d protested, as any good healer would do, relief washed over Marlies’ face. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and then opened them again. “Four dragons, you said? Who’s the other one?”
§
By the shrotty unfair dragon gods, it couldn’t be true. She hadn’t, had she?
But it was true. And yes, she had. Over and over in her mind, Ezaara saw herself rising in her stirrups and aiming her arrow at Ma. Hateful thoughts flooded her head. Screams of agony from those dark dragons. Shadows writhed, twisting her mind. An insidious voice whispered, “Kill her. Kill the evil woman.”
She’d drawn her bow and fired.
She clung to Roberto, sobbing. He’d saved her from killing her mother. From hating herself for a lifetime.
She’d seen Roberto turned by methimium. Seen Sofia turned. And she’d understood. Had forgiven them.
But how could she forgive herself for wanting to kill her own flesh and blood?
§
Roofs were ablaze, thatching and wooden shingles burning. Leah cast around. “Quick, this way.” She snatched Paolo’s hand and ran toward a tavern, its splintered door gaping like an angry jagged maw.
She yanked the door open. Its hinges gave way. “Look out!” She leaped back, thrusting Paolo aside. The door crashed to the ground, missing them by a hand’s breadth.
“C’mon!” Her heart beating a crazy staccato against her ribs, Leah tugged Paolo inside.
Dead patrons were slumped over spilled tankards. A bloodied tharuk was on the floor, its skull staved in with a chair leg.
She ignored it all, racing behind the bar to the storeroom, dragging Paolo with her. Paolo sprinted to a keg. “Brilliant idea, Leah.”
It took two of them to roll the keg from the back room across the tavern and out the door. They ran back for another keg, and then another. When kegs were jamming the doorway, Leah and Paolo scrambled over them amid bellows, snarls and roars from the square.
Paolo stuck his fingers in his mouth and let out an ear-piercing whistle.
The pale dragon flung a tharuk into the air and leaped toward them.
Steeling her shaking knees, Leah placed a hand on its head. “These kegs are for putting out fires.”
“Good thinking, young one.” Hooking his talons through the metal bonds around the kegs, the dragon rose above a burning rooftop. He swung the kegs out and smashed them against each other. Honey-colored liquid poured over the flames.
To Leah’s horror, the flames belched and soared skyward nearly toasting the white dragon.
Panting, Klaus arrived. He glanced at the barrels: Heath’s Finest Malt Whiskey. “That’ll only feed the fire.” He thrust aside three of the whiskey kegs. And hefted an ale keg on his shoulder, whistling for the dragon.
Squeezing Paolo’s hand in hers, Leah held her breath as the dragon smashed keg after keg of ale over the rooftops, until the fires were reduced to smoldering, steaming char.
Shadow Dragon
It was night by the time Kierion and the dark dragon crested the peaks of Dragon’s Teeth and flew down into the basin of Dragons’ Hold. The snow gleamed in the dark. As usual, a fierce ache built in his chest at the beauty of the hold, making him want to protect his realm against Zens’ monsters—monsters like the one he was riding right now.
The air resonated with a bellow—a warning cry that the hold had been breached. A cry that had probably never been uttered in Kierion’s lifetime. He’d brought this evil creature to Dragons’ Hold. Gods, hopefully they could keep the beast and mage under control so they wouldn’t destroy anyone.
§
Jael and Tomaaz got Giddi into a hot bath and then an infirmary bed to rest under Mara’s watchful eye. They’d just ambled back to the main cavern when a dragon bellowed.
“The defenses of Dragons’ Hold have been breached,” Lars roared. “To your dragons!” The council leader leaped upon Singlar. Riders jumped into their saddles and flew out the tunnels in the cavern walls. Tomaaz and Jael jumped on Maazini and broke into the night sky.
Illuminated by a gust of Singlar’s flame was a dark dragon swooping toward the main cavern.
Maazini melded, “It’s not screaming.”
It wasn’t. And Riona was there too, flying alongside the dragon with Fenni on her back. But where was Kierion?
“Lars says to let the dark dragon go into the main cavern.” Maazini bristled.
They followed the shadow dragon into the cavern. It landed, a m
age and rider upon its back.
“Nice to see you all,” a cheeky voice piped up.
Kierion?
Maazini chuckled. “So it seems.”
“I’ve captured you a specimen, so we can figure out how to fight these things,” Kierion said. “But stand back, please—it’s not tame.” His face grim, Kierion held a knife to the mage’s throat. “The only thing keeping them subdued is my blade,” he said. “I suggest you put them under lock and key in the holding dungeon for dragons.”
§
Adelina gasped. He was back. Kierion was here. His eyes swept the cavern and found her immediately. Then slid away. In no time at all, he was hustled out of the cavern, escorting the dark dragon and mage at knife point to the dungeons.
Adelina had no desire to follow. Those were the dungeons where her brother had been held with Erob before he was sent to the Wastelands. She didn’t want to relive the memories of her only family member being banished.
She’d see Kierion before he went back to Montanara and apologize. Thank the Egg he was home again—even though the hurt had still been fresh in his eyes.
Adelina went back to her training, Master Jerrick praising her for her aim as her arrows thwacked into target after target.
As soon as she was done, she raced to Kierion’s cavern. He wasn’t there.
Nor was he in the mess cavern.
Or the infirmary.
“Have you seen Kierion?” she asked Mara.
“He’s just gone back to Montanara.” She winked. ““Don’t worry, there’ll be time enough for you to catch up later.”
If Kierion ever wanted to catch up with her. Adelina wasn’t so sure.
Aftermath
Steam rose into the chill air from the entrails of dark dragons ripped open by their peers. Dead tharuks and villagers were scattered over the square like a littling’s discarded playthings. Wounded lay among the dead, their feeble moans drifting on the stench.
Wracked with guilt, Ezaara knelt next to Willow, now a newly widowed mother with a broken arm. Last time Ezaara had seen Willow, the young woman had been laughing with her husband, Kieft, at the market. Now, Kieft lay dead, a dragon’s length away, with his friend Murray wounded nearby. Those few precious drops of piaua should’ve been used to save these lives, not for the wound on Ezaara’s arm. The Queen’s Rider shouldn’t take priority over others. It was wrong.
Ma had always taught her there were enough healing supplies for everyone. But not anymore, thanks to Commander Zens.
She fastened the splint on Willow’s arm and stood, squeezing the hand of Willow’s littling—cradled in his mother’s good arm. She had no words. There was nothing to say when your village lay in smoking ruins. When the people you’d grown up with were homeless, wounded, or dead.
Roberto, Ma and Amato were in a tense discussion standing in the corner of the square near the makeshift infirmary—an inn that Klaus had commandeered.
“Ezaara, I think you’d better join us,” Roberto mind-melded.
Just seeing her nail gouges on his face made her hesitate. “I’ll be right there.” More guilt wracked her as Ma slumped with exhaustion. Ezaara shook her head to dispel the nagging image of her arrow aimed at Ma, but as she strode over to join them, she couldn’t shake it loose.
§
“Amato?” Marlies squinted, hardly able to believe her eyes. He was thin and pale, all bones and angles, a wisp of what he’d been when she’d met him at Giddi’s cabin in Great Spanglewood Forest all those years ago. His once-handsome face was sallow, eyes sunken, and hair thin and wild. The years had not been kind to the alluring man she’d once been infatuated with.
But then again, he’d not been kind either. For the thousandth time, Marlies was glad she’d chosen Hans over Amato.
“Marlies.” Amato croaked, throat bobbing. “Still as beautiful as ever.”
Roberto bristled. Ezaara joined them, placing her hand on Roberto’s arm.
Did he have any idea how similar he looked to his father? When she’d first seen Roberto, she’d mistaken him for Amato, forgetting how many years had passed. Then she’d looked again. Roberto didn’t have that easy laugh and gregarious nature so common in Naobians. His face was closed, hard, especially now.
She could hardly blame him after what he’d been through at his father’s hands.
Overcoming her reflex to recoil from him, Marlies stepped closer to Amato. “I’d heard you’d died in Crystal Lake. How did you survive?”
He shrugged. “Fish and lake weed. I hid in an underwater cave for so long I grew too weak to swim out.”
“How long?”
Amato shrugged again, his breath short and shoulders tight. His ribs heaved, pressing through his shirt.
Roberto answered tersely, “Six years.”
Marlies gave Amato a sharp glance. “Are you wounded?”
His gaze slid away. “I’m fine.”
“By the dragon’s talon, you are. Turn around.” She didn’t wait, but stalked behind Amato, sucking air in through her teeth. The back of his shirt was burnt, angry bubbly skin blistering through the shreds. “We’ve got to get you to Dragons’ Hold. Roberto, Ezaara, do you still have our means of speedy travel?” She wasn’t going to mention Anakisha’s rings in front of someone who’d been a traitor to the realm.
“Yes, but I’m staying here.” Roberto said, eyes flat.
Marlies understood. He didn’t care if his father died. Maybe he’d prefer it. She turned to her daughter. “Ezaara, would you take Amato to Dragons’ Hold? Once you’ve given him into Lars’ custody, you may return”
“Excuse me, Marlies,” Roberto interrupted, “but the Queen’s Rider is not taking Amato to Dragons’ Hold.” Roberto’s voice was forged of steel.
“So, you’ll take him, then?”
Roberto’s only answer was a snort.
“Roberto?” Marlies pressed.
“Take him yourself.” Although she knew the venom in his voice was for Amato, Marlies recoiled at the hate in his heart. Roberto flashed a glare at her. “I’m staying here to help clean up.”
Ezaara piped up, “Ma, you’re not looking so great yourself. And as master healer, you’re needed back at the hold. Maybe you should go.”
“Back to the hold? When there’s so much healing and work to be done here?” And piaua to be found, but she didn’t mention that. Not now.
Feeble cries and muttered groans of the wounded drifted around the square on wisps of smoke, weaving between the strands of their conversation.
Ezaara’s eyes roamed Roberto’s face, and his searched hers. They were melding. Both turned to survey the wounded.
Leah and Paolo joined them. “You were amazing,” Paulo said, shaking Amato’s hand. “If it hadn’t been for you…”
“…I’d be dead,” Leah finished. “Thank you for saving my life.” She went upon her toes and craned her head to kiss Amato’s pale cheek. No mean feat for one as shy as Leah. “Thanks so much for saving me. Marlies, this man’s a hero, he saved Paolo and me.”
Amato’s eyes glistened. “The least I can do is save these littlings, even if I wasn’t able to save my own littlings from myself.” His eyes didn’t leave Roberto’s face.
Roberto’s gaze snapped to his father. “Get on Erob. I’m taking you to the hold.” He strode off.
Ezaara hugged Marlies, eyes still haunted. “Shall we get on with healing?”
Marlies nodded, gazing over the wounded. So many. And no piaua.
Reunion
“What about Matotoi?” Roberto asked Amato. “What’s he going to do?”
“He’ll help here for a while and then travel to Dragons’ Hold.” Amato gingerly climbed into Erob’s saddle. His back was an ugly mess of burns and blisters.
Roberto climbed up behind him, careful not to touch Amato’s back. Seeing Amato couldn’t have been easy for Marlies. She hadn’t even known he was alive. His father had obviously known her well. Although the way he’d said she was beautiful had rankl
ed. As if the memory of his mother was dust.
Well, Amato was dust, as far as he was concerned. Dust he’d grind under his boot.
“How do you know Marlies?” Roberto asked.
“I was the dragon rider who invited her to Dragons’ Hold when she first imprinted with Liesar,” Amato replied. “We loved each other once.”
Roberto raised an eyebrow.
“That surprised you didn’t it?” Erob said. “It was so long ago, it never occurred to me to tell you.” Erob flapped his wings, and they gently rose through the smoke into the sky. From here, Roberto could see that only part of the settlement was damaged. At least Lush Valley’s citizens would have somewhere to sleep tonight.
“What happened… with Marlies?” Roberto asked Amato.
“Hans happened. That was the end of it. And then I met your mother.”
Roberto shrugged, fighting his curiosity. He didn’t want to know. Amato’s past was none of his business. “Please close your eyes for a moment and hold on.” He kept the jade ring hidden. With a ring, Amato could nip straight back to Zens. Roberto rubbed it, his breath a faint whisper, “Kisha.”
Lush Valley disappeared. With a pop, they were in the tunnel of golden clouds. In a few short days, it’d changed. Wisps of mist leaked in from dark rifts, swirling around Anakisha’s pale figure, making it difficult to see her spirit.
“My grandson, I see you’ve found your father,” Anakisha mind-melded. “He’s been pining for you for years.”
“What about when he beat me bloody? He wasn’t pining then.”
“No, but he was in Zens’ thrall. As you once were, too.”
And as Ezaara had been, just today, thanks to Zens’ methimium.
Anakisha murmured in his mind, “Of all people, I’d expect you to understand.”
Roberto clenched his jaw then said aloud, “Please take us to Dragons’ Hold, so I can bring my father to justice.”
With a crack, Erob was circling down to Lars’ cavern. They landed on the ledge and Lars swept out the door.
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