“There’s no one at Dragons’ Hold who can help me, Hans.” Melding was easier than speech.
“I know, that’s why we’re fetching Leah.” He squeezed her hand. “We have to get you out of here. There’s a raging battle above. The sooner we leave the better.”
Then Marlies heard it again. She’d been in so much pain, she’d dismissed the snarling coming from nearby alleys, roars above and the roiling cloud of dark dragons, punctuated by flashes of color and bursts of fire.
Handel thudded back to the square. Leah ran over and took the needle from Hans. “You’re going to be all right, Marlies. We’ll have you fixed in no time.”
Hans raised a eyebrow. “I wonder who she learned that from.”
Despite the pain throbbing in her side, Marlies smiled.
§
Although Leah had stitched her and bandaged her, pain lanced across Marlies’ torso whenever she moved. Hans lifted her, cradling her in his arms. “Let’s get you back to Dragons’ Hold before the square erupts.”
“Piaua” Marlies murmured.
Hans shook his head. “Remember, Marlies, there is no piaua.”
He’d misunderstood her. “That’s what I meant. We must search for piaua.”
“You’re not well enough. It’ll have to wait.”
Leah squeezed her hand. “I can seek piaua, and when I find a tree, I’ll speak to it and harvest the juice. You’ll just have to tell me how.”
“I need to tell you anyhow.” Marlies beckoned her closer and whispered instructions in her ear.
Eyes wide, Leah nodded.
At Hans’ side, Taliesin straightened. “I’ll go with you,” he said. “We’re young, so no one will think we’re carrying anything valuable.”
Hans shook his head. “No, we’re training you as our successors. We can’t lose you.”
Leah planted her fists on her hips. “Successors need experience. If I don’t learn how to harvest piaua, many lives will be lost. Look at those beasts.” She flung a hand skyward at the shadow dragons roaring above Montanara. “We need every rider we can get. If I don’t try, none of us will be alive. None of this will matter.”
“She has a flair for the dramatic,” Hans melded.
“But she’s right, Hans. We need piaua juice if we’re to fight an endless army of Zens’ beasts. These black dragons are pouring out of Death Valley as fast as Zens can create them. We only have limited riders and dragons.”
Marlies squeezed Leah’s hand. So brave, but so young.
Leah squeezed back. “Master Marlies, I beg you, please. We’ll find the piaua and save our people.”
Taliesin piped up, “I’ve just had a vision. If Leah goes alone, she’ll die, but with me, there’s a much higher chance we’ll survive and bring back what we need.”
Hans’ eyes flicked from Marlies to the two young ones. He nodded. “All right. One of our dragons can—”
“Marlies!” A deep voice rang through the square. A huge figure rushed over to Marlies, his enormous frame dwarfing Hans. “Marlies are you injured?” Giant John shook his head. “A stupid question, I know. Will you be all right?”
She smiled through gritted teeth. “Sure, John, I’m as bright as a vase of daffodils.”
“His eyes darted to her bloodstained side. “Nothing a bit of piaua won’t cure, I hope.”
Hans sighed. “We’re out. There’s none here either.”
“Out of piaua?” John’s eyebrows shot up. “Even you?”
Marlies nodded. “The tree in Lush Valley has been hewn down and destroyed. Same with the ones in Spanglewood.”
“Those cursed tharuks,” John said. “If only I were a tree speaker, I’d go to the red guards myself.”
That was it! “Giant John, meet Leah, a young tree speaker, and Taliesin.” She hesitated.
“What is it?”
Hans spoke for her, knowing Giant John had risked his life for Marlies before and that it was hard for her to ask again. “Giant John, are you willing to take Leah and Taliesin to search for piaua juice?”
Giant John thumped his fist on his chest and nodded. “It’d be my pleasure.” He glanced down at Marlies. “Hans, I suggest you get your wife to Dragons’ Hold as soon as possible.”
He beckoned the young ones. “Grab your things and come with me.”
§
Kierion’s mighty dragon Riona dove as he fired arrows. Fenni shot flames left, then right, at shadow dragons whirling through the skies. Riona ducked, avoiding yellow rays from a dark dragon’s eyes. Then she spun to blast the beast with her flame.
Screams echoed hollowly in Kierion’s head, a constant throb and ebb of pain. He’d long since given up mind blocking. Or melding with Riona. It was shoot, duck, race in and dart out. He shot another arrow, catching the edge of a dark wing.
A mage leaned out over the dragon—another fake Sorcha. A volley of mage fire shot from his hands, straight for Kierion. Fenni countered it with a wall of ice.
Danion’s dragon plunged after a shadow beast, blazing flame. Maazini was a whip of orange, heading toward the forest.
Riona spun to dive into the fray again.
Far out on the horizon, another swarm of dark dragons was approaching.
§
Something about those shadow dragons nagged at Tomaaz’s mind.
“What is it?” Maazini asked as Tomaaz nocked an arrow to his bow and headed back into the fray above Montanara.
“I don’t know, they seem familiar.”
A dark dragon loomed, opening its maw, and blasting flame that licked at Maazini’s talons.
Maazini spun and shot up above the dragon so Tomaaz could loose an arrow at its wings. But the mage on its back blasted green flame at Maazini. Blistering heat rolled over them.
Jael leaned out, sending ribbons of fire into the dragon’s hide. It screeched and shot away.
“I need water,” Maazini croaked.
“To the river, then. Go, before we’re attacked again.” Tomaaz hunched low in the saddle as Maazini flew away from the battling dragons, soared over the trees, and crunched down in the snow on the riverbank on the edge of Spanglewood Forest.
Tomaaz slid out of the saddle to fill his own flaccid waterskin. He’d drunk his fill long before Maazini was finished, so he passed the skin to Jael and paced by the riverbank, snacking on a stick of smoked sausage. He ran a keen eye over his dragon’s hide, looking for injuries. Aside from a few small scratches, Maazini appeared to be in good shape. Thank the Egg for that. With no piaua, any wound could be fatal.
Maazini turned his head. “Have you finished admiring my fine shape?”
“Shape, that’s it! Those dark dragons have Maazini’s shape.”
Maazini cocked his head. “Are you sure?”
Jael nodded. “You might be right.”
“Hold your head like that again. No, tilt it on that angle, as if you’re going to ask me a question.”
Maazini obliged.
There was no doubt about it, with that head shape and their bulk, the dragons were somehow related to Maazini.
Maazini snorted. “It’s not as if Zens grows dragons from seeds, you know. They can’t all look the same. Dragons have differences, like Erob’s size or Singlar’s large horns. Are you sure you’re not mistaken?”
“Let’s take another look at those dragons,” Tomaaz said aloud for Jael’s benefit, and swung into the saddle.
“Look?” Jael replied. “I won’t be looking, I’ll be blasting those dragons from the sky.”
Tomaaz nocked an arrow. “As will I.” They ascended, and he braced himself for their awful mind-splitting screams as they headed back into the roiling heart of the battle.
Yes, every one of Zens dark dragons had the same head shape, approximately the same size and even similar talons. They were all black—exactly the same unnatural hue.
Maazini whipped out with his tail, lashing a dark dragon’s wing. “Well, we know they’re unnatural,” he said. “But what can we do about i
t?”
They climbed high above the cloud of dragons, looked down on several dark dragons. Yes, he was right. They all looked like Maazini. Roberto had said the dark dragons had been grown in tanks inside a cavern deep in the earth. He must grow them from something—not seeds, but something. Perhaps Zens had somehow harvested the flesh and bone to grow dragons from Maazini while he was captive.
If that was true, then these evil dragons were all somehow Maazini’s brothers and sisters.
And they were all screaming continually as if they were in constant pain.
Jael broke into Tomaaz’s musings, calling, “Over there, look. Something strange is going on.” He pointed to a gap that had been smashed in the trees by a fallen blue dragon. A prone rider and mage, flung from the saddle were lying nearby. A cloaked figure was bending over one of the riders.
A looter? Or maybe a friend, grieving. Something furtive about the figure’s movements made Tomaaz pause.
“I don’t like the look of that,” Jael muttered.
“Land over there behind those trees, Maazini. I don’t want to be seen.”
Maazini had never landed so softly. He and Jael slipped from the saddle and sneaked through the forest.
They peeked around the trunk of a strongwood. Jael stifled a gasp.
The man was cutting locks of hair from the dead mage, chopping off her fingers and taking slices of her dark, Naobian skin. He shoved everything into a pouch hanging from his belt.
“Hey, what are you doing?” Tomaaz yelled, aiming an arrow.
The man spun, hands dripping mage blood. It was Old Bill—the man who’d beaten Lovina and drugged her. Tomaaz loosed his arrow at Bill’s heart.
Bill dropped and rolled, then was up, sprinting. Before Tomaaz could fire again, Old Bill put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. A dark dragon swooped down, plucked Bill in its talons, and flew off, Bill’s feet bashing snow from the branches of a strongwood.
Jael sent a streak of mage fire after them. It missed Bill and the dragon, hitting the branches, which burst into flame.
“Maazini, chase them.”
Maazini roared and took to the air, flapping valiantly. After a few moments, he flew back down. “They’re too far ahead. I’m not leaving you two here, with tharuks prowling.”
Jael incinerated the dead mage’s body. He shook his head. “Her name was Sovita. She was so young and sweet, barely seventeen summers. I was hoping when she was older—” He looked up, tears glazing his eyes.
Tomaaz’s heart clenched. The girl has been someone special to Jael.
This war could take everyone they loved.
The Captain
Ezaara squinted, shading her eyes with her hand. A swarm of dark dragons was visible far from Montanara.
“It’s going to be a tough battle,” Roberto melded, “with our dragons weary and already having fought in Lush Valley.”
“I was thinking exactly the same,” Ezaara said. “It’s good your father is no longer with us. One less person to worry about.” Ma was ahead somewhere, perhaps stuck in the battle. Was Tomaaz there too, and all the other riders she’d come to care about so deeply?
Why had they tarried so long in Lush Valley? In hindsight, it seemed silly that she, as Queen’s Rider, had stayed behind to tend the wounded. But Ma had needed to seek piaua.
Hopefully she’d found some, although Ezaara wasn’t holding out much hope. In a couple of short weeks, Dragons’ Realm had been overrun with tharuks. And now these dark dragons… It wasn’t easy being Queen’s Rider. The heavy mantle of responsibility weighed upon her shoulders.
“It isn’t easy being Queen’s Rider, but you have the ability,” Zaarusha said. “Let’s purge these beasts and make our realm safe again.”
Their dragons sped on toward Montanara.
Plumes of smoke hung above the city and nearby trees. Dark dragons were sweeping and diving down toward Spanglewood. Riders were holding them off as well as they could.
Roberto melded as he and Erob peeled off. “We’ll help fight in the forest.”
Zaarusha snarled, “We stay together.”
“Everyone’s fighting without me,” Ezaara melded. “As Queen’s Rider, I should have been here for our people.”
“Too late for regrets now,” Zaarusha said. “You were serving your people in Lush Valley. And that was your home.”
True, she’d helped people she’d loved and grown up with.
Zaarusha dove down toward a black dragon chasing a young blue. She stretched out her talons and plucked the rogue mage from the dark’s back and flung him into the trees. Then she shredded the dragon’s wings with her talons. The beast plummeted, and Zaarusha sent a gust of flame after it.
A fireball shot toward Zaarusha; a mage on another dark dragon zoomed by them. The roiling ball of fire flew over Ezaara’s head as she ducked. Screams pounded her mind.
“Block your mind,” Zaarusha shrieked, cutting off mind-meld.
Ezaara steeled her mind, envisioning her home in Lush Valley. Surely there was a better way? She could mind-meld with any dragon, perhaps she could reach out and try to subdue these ones.
She risked mind-melding with Erob, Roberto and Zaarusha again. “What do you think?” The pain in her head was almost too much, but she had to try. “Should I meld with these dragons and try to subdue them?”
“I’ve been thinking the same,” Roberto replied. “Wondering if we could gain mental control over them.”
“We?”
“You’re the only person that can meld with all dragons,” Roberto said. “And the dragons can meld with each other. So why don’t I support you, chime in?”
Zaarusha roared, blasting fire that punched through a wall of flame cast by two dark mages. “Do it. Anything has to be better than this,” the Queen rumbled.
Ezaara gritted her teeth. She melded with the blue dragon farthest out, another scream piercing through her thoughts. And then with Riona, no more than a purple flash on the horizon amongst a swarm of dark dragons. And then with a green. Maazini. And another dragon.
And another. And another.
And when she could hear the babble of dragon thoughts from their own dragons and the relayed screams of the dark dragons ripping through their minds, she opened her senses and reached out for Zens’ dark beasts.
There was a howl in Ezaara’s head. An incessant shrieking, like thousands of swords clashing.
A hurricane of anguish, it shredded not only her ears, but her heart. Her very being.
The screams sunk deep, dragging the tattered shreds of her down.
Until she was drowning in a whirlpool of anguish.
§
Roberto tried to hold steady, tried to hold his mind open for Ezaara. With all the strength he and Erob could muster, he supported her, but the magnitude of the noise in her head drowned out his own thoughts. His own senses. Who he was.
He was losing himself in a deep pit of black.
Like the string on bow stretched too taut, their mind-meld snapped, sending Roberto’s thoughts spinning.
With a scream that pierced the battle-torn sky, Ezaara slumped over Zaarusha’s spinal ridge, her eyes rolling back in her head and her hands hanging limp.
“Erob, quick. We must get Ezaara back to Dragons’ Hold,”
Erob sidled alongside Zaarusha.
Roberto made the leap onto Zaarusha’s saddle. He pulled Ezaara against his chest and cradled her in his arms. He slapped Zaarusha’s hide, not daring to mind-meld. Then he rubbed the ring on his finger, calling, “Kisha.”
With a pop, they disappeared, leaving the smoking, raging battle behind them.
§
A dark dragon flew at Tomaaz, talons out.
Tomaaz blocked his mind, locking in a picture with all his senses, as Master Giddi had taught.
The mage riding the dark dragon fired a short, yellow-tipped arrow at them. Then another and another.
Maazini swerved, but was too late. An arrow pierced the dragon’s neck s
cales.
It was only a superficial cut and the strange arrow was only the length of Tomaaz’s hand. He pulled the arrow shaft. It tugged free—without the arrowhead.
Before his eyes, the arrowhead, made of yellow crystal, burrowed into the flesh under Maazini’s scales. As if it were alive. Digging deeper.
Horrors! An arrow that dug itself into flesh?
Tomaaz grasped his knife, trying to prize out the arrowhead.
It was now buried a finger’s-length deep in Maazini’s flesh.
Maazini bucked and writhed, blasting flame at the dark dragon, driving it back.
Tomaaz’s knife was slick with his dragon’s blood. He fumbled. The blade slipped, plummeting past his boot toward the trees.
He whipped out his bow and loosed an arrow, hitting the mage’s chest. Another struck the mage’s throat.
The dark dragon swung its head. Bright-yellow rays flew from its eyes, brushing near Maazini.
Maazini spurted past the dragon, lashing downward, swinging his mighty tail. It smacked the dark dragon’s head, cleaving its skull. With a screech and a plume of mage fire large enough to incinerate a house, the dragon and rider plunged into the treetops, impaled and twitching.
Tomaaz risked melding with Maazini, “Are you all right, boy?”
Black shadows twisted his dragon’s mind. An anguished scream ripped through Maazini.
Tomaaz whipped his head around. Surely, that dragon wasn’t still melded with Maazini? He probed deeper, agony ripping through his head. A cry of desolation and pain rippled through him.
As Maazini flailed, losing height, yellow rays sprang from his eyes, slicing the top off a tall spruce.
By the dragon gods!
Maazini wasn’t melding with another dragon. The shadows and screams were Maazini’s own.
§
Dark dragons were flying in thick and fast, blasting flame and slicing through riders and dragon’s wings with their yellow-beamed eyes. Master Giddi flung out his hands. A swathe of emerald fire erupted from his fingertips, engulfing a shadow dragon until it was a molten, flapping fireball. It screeched, plummeting to the earth, its cry reverberating through Giddi’s head.
It was no good, they were coming too thick and fast. Although his magic was holding some of them at bay, his mages were flagging, their energy far spent.
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