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

by Eileen Mueller

  Several council masters nodded in assent.

  Alyssa murmured, “Yes, we can’t have rogue dragons.”

  Hendrik shook his head, “Not a good option, but there may be no way around it.”

  Even Master Jerrick was nodding.

  Lars smacked his gavel. “Any dragons who are turned will be given three days. At the end of those three days, they will be executed. This is war. We can’t house enemy dragons at Dragons’ Hold.”

  The council masters’ dragons, seated along the back wall, snarled. Zaarusha roared.

  Tomaaz’s head reeled. Kill Maazini? It’d be like ripping his own heart out. “No!” He leaped to his feet, stalked around the table to Lars and thrust his face close to the council leader’s. “No. I won’t have it. You’ll have to kill me too.” He picked up a glass and smashed it against the wall. His boots crunched through shards as he strode out the council chamber’s double doors and slammed them.

  Tomaaz pounded down the corridor, his boots drumming into the stone, echoes thundering along the corridor like a battle drum. He raced past surprised riders. Mages jumped back against stone walls to let him pass.

  Down the spiral stairs that led to the dungeon.

  Down, down, to the heart of the mountain.

  He melded with Maazini, but a snarl ripped through his head in reply. Not good. Surely, he could save his dragon. He stormed past the blue guards.

  Opposite Maazini’s cell, Tomaaz slumped against the wall and watched for a sign of the dragon he’d rescued from Death Valley. A sign of his gratitude. Of their bond. They’d imprinted under the most unlikely circumstances. The broken, bedraggled creature had hardly been recognizable as a dragon, with gray washed-out scales, sagging wings, and gray eyes due to the numlocked rat carcasses he’d been fed by dull-witted slaves.

  But there was nothing, no glimmering friendliness in Maazini’s eyes.

  Now his eyes were mean green slits in his head. His maw, a mass of snarling fangs. His talons clawed rock. He gazed at Tomaaz as if he’d shred him if he got within reach.

  Tomaaz buried his head on his knees. How was he going to save his dragon?

  §

  Kierion strode swiftly down the corridors of Dragons’ Hold toward Adelina’s cavern. He needed to report Master Giddi’s kidnapping to the council, but first he had to see her. He’d been such an ass, pressured her when she’d been most vulnerable. Perhaps she hated him. But that didn’t change how he felt about her. Even if they’d only just begun their journey, he had so much pleasure in her company—had felt so little joy since they’d argued.

  He knocked on Adelina’s door, licking his lips and nervously running a hand through his battle-dirty, straggly hair. No answer. Perhaps she was out flying. He hunted around the halls and caverns and eventually found Mara in the mess cavern.

  “Oh, Kierion we hear you’re a real hero.”

  Another girl chimed in, “He was already my hero after he rescued Ezaara and Roberto from Death Valley.”

  Mara replied, “And Adelina. You can’t forget Adelina.”

  Guilt spiked through Kierion. No, he’d never forget Adelina—even if she never chose to speak to him again. How could he forget her cute upturned smile, her laugh and vivacious energy? Not to mention those gorgeous ebony eyes that made his heart melt when she was near. “Uh, have you seen her?”

  “Adelina’s been gone for ages,” Mara said matter-of-factly.

  “Where did she go?”

  Mara shrugged. “No one seems to know. But I imagine Tonio would. He knows everything.”

  The other girl giggled. “Ssh, the spymaster might hear you.”

  Kierion didn’t feel like laughing. “Thank you.” He spun on his heel and left the mess cavern. He was running out of time. He had to report Giddi’s kidnapping to the council and leave again for Montanara. Gods, he had to find her.

  He ran to Tonio’s quarters. The spymaster was hunched over a map, a group of blue guards gathered around him. He stabbed the map with a finger and then turned, barking, “Kierion, I’m busy. Can’t it wait?”

  No, it couldn’t. “It’ll only take a moment, sir. Have you sent Adelina anywhere? No one seems to have seen her.”

  Tonio nodded grimly. “Her father’s been brought back here, captive. I suspect she left after she saw him. No one’s seen scale nor talon of Linaia or Adelina for two or three days.”

  Kierion barely managed to stutter, “T-thank you.” He staggered out into the corridor.

  She’d seen her father and been hurting. Had probably needed someone to talk to. And he’d shunned her. Flames. If only he’d stayed to talk to her.

  Riona mind-melded, “Kierion, I’ve hunted and I’m ready to go.”

  “I’ll be there in a moment. I’m just looking for Adelina.”

  “Then I suggest we leave Dragons’ Hold immediately. She’s not here.”

  “I can’t,” Kierion replied. “I haven’t reported Giddi’s kidnapping to the council yet.”

  §

  Marlies sighed, smoothing her quilt. It had only been two days since the battle at Montanara, but sitting up was still painful. At least Hans had stopped pacing beside her bed and clucking like a mother hen. Well, he was still clucking—just not as often.

  Marlies hadn’t heard a thing from Leah since she’d fled with Giant John two days ago. She rolled her eyes. Now who was being a mother hen? The red guards were at least a few days’ flight away, longer by wagon. Eventually, Leah would reach them and return with piaua juice. Or not. At least they’d know where they stood.

  She shifted, wincing as pain shot up her wounded side.

  Without piaua, they’d have to heal riders and dragons the old-fashioned way. Stitches risked infections and required patience—so much patience.

  Life was a tide too strong for her to stand against. She was tired and everything ached. Every time the tide surged, she wanted to collapse on the sand and rest in the sun, but the tide just kept surging against her. For the thousandth time, she wondered what would’ve happened if she hadn’t taken piaua berries in Death Valley. She shook her head. There was no point thinking like that. She would’ve been dead. At least she’d had time to see the twins become dragon riders—the dream she and Hans had long held but never dared to voice in Lush Valley.

  Sofia bustled in. “Is there anything I can do for you? With Leah gone and Adelina not around, I thought—”

  “Where’s Adelina?” Marlies’ voice came out sharper than she’d intended.

  Sofia shrugged. “No one’s sure. She was last seen three days ago. I’ve asked around, but no one knows where she is.”

  She tried to recall the name of Adelina’s dragon. Ah, yes. “Has Linaia gone too?” Her memory wasn’t as sharp as it had been, either.

  Sofia nodded. “No talon nor scale seen of her, either.” She leaned in, whispering, “I think it’s because Adelina’s father’s here.”

  Although Marlies didn’t like gossip, it sounded plausible. Amato was a beast. “Is Lars aware that Adelina’s gone?”

  Sofia shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

  “Then please tell him. And, could you also fetch me a quill, an ink pot and parchment?”

  Leah was the only one she’d formally taught about her healing remedies. Of course, Ezaara knew them too, but if anything happened to either of them…

  Sofia brought in some parchment, a quill and a pot of blood-red ink.

  Marlies shuffled the slips of parchment on her lap and started writing. They had to preserve her knowledge. Too much had been destroyed by Fleur.

  Together

  Roberto sat by Ezaara’s bed. Two days they’d been home at Dragons’ Hold, and she hadn’t woken yet. For the umpteenth time, he laid his hands on her temples to test her mind.

  Nothing. Her mind was blank. A dark, hollow cavern with not an echo inside.

  No light. Not even the tiniest glowworm of a glimmer. There was nothing, nothing of the woman he knew. No spark of life, no vibrancy. No Ezaara.


  He dropped his hands into his lap. He’d agreed to her crazy plan, encouraged her to mind-meld with the enemy’s dragons. He was worthless, had sacrificed the woman he loved for the sake of a war not even won.

  The door opened and Hans entered with Marlies leaning heavily on his arm. Her face was pale and her steps slow. “How is she?” Marlies asked, breathing shallowly.

  They said she’d fought Bruno, injuring her side. That Simeon had killed him, but gotten away.

  “Still sleeping,” Roberto replied.

  Marlies patted his hand. “She’s a fighter, Roberto. Always has been. Always will be. Don’t give up.”

  They sat for a while.

  Ezaara’s parents rose to leave. Marlies flashed him a tired wan smile. With quiet footsteps, she and Hans made their way to the door and closed it softly behind them.

  Roberto sighed and turned back to Ezaara. Her new Naobian tunic and breeches were on the bedside table. He traced his fingers over the exquisite fabric. It rustled, dragons winking in the torchlight.

  Ezaara hadn’t even worn them.

  Roberto stroked her cheek, then slumped in his chair, watching Ezaara’s chest rise and fall, counting her breaths long into the night.

  §§§

  Dragon War

  Prologue - Death Valley

  Commander Zens pushed the button to activate the stone-clad aluminum sliding door. It hissed open, admitting him to the antechamber to his laboratory, an old methimium mine that he’d re-purposed. His boots struck stone, echoing off rock walls lined with large glass vats. Tharuks tending young mages growing in the fluid-filled vats whirled to attention as he passed. The original two mages they’d kidnapped were still chained to beds, pallid and barely conscious.

  “Progress?” Zens snapped.

  Tharuk 873 stepped forward, bowing its head and dipping its tusks and furry snout. Its eyes met his. “We’ve grown twenty full mages from the material Bill harvested and hundreds from the original mages. We have more embryos ready for the accel—um, special stuff.”

  “Growth accelerant.” Zens nodded. Bill had recently harvested DNA from mages he’d killed in battle—fingernails, hair clippings and even hacked-off digits. “Good. Continue. Double the accelerant. We must have more mages fully grown as soon as possible.” He waved them back to work, and mind-melded with tharuk 000. “Where are you, my lovely?” His pride and joy usually oversaw the mage cloning process in this antechamber.

  “In the main laboratory, sir,” 000 answered, a wave of warmth accompanying the tharuk’s thoughts.

  Zens strolled through the hewn rock archway into the lab. He smiled as his gaze swept the rows of huge glass tanks holding his lovelies—shadow dragons, the fearful citizens of Dragons’ Realm called them, a fitting name for his new beasts that struck terror into their weakling hearts. As his footfalls echoed across the stone, snuffles and grunts ceased. Tharuks turned from their workbenches, placed their test tubes in stands, or climbed down the ladders against the dragons’ tanks to face him.

  His gaze swept over the lab and he mind-melded with all of them at once, letting a sinister edge lace his thoughts. “Continue working. All dragons must be fit for flight in a few days. Or else…” He flashed a malicious smile.

  The tharuks turned back to their duties. The largest approached him, its broad shoulders exuding strength and power, the coiled whip at its hip swinging as it prowled between workbenches. 000’s eyes gleamed in anticipation. “Greetings, sir.”

  “Come with me, Triple.”

  Triple Zero, his most-prized tharuk and first creation, followed him through the underground laboratory, past the teams of tharuks working to produce more creatures for the war against Dragons’ Realm. Zens’ boots crunched on broken glass. He wheeled. “Who made this mess?” he barked, waving a hand at the shards littering the rough stone floor.

  A wiry tharuk tentatively raised its hand, its claws automatically springing from its fingers in fear.

  “Come.” Zens smiled, crooking a finger.

  The beast quaked as it approached.

  Rightly so. Zens’ gaze swept over the tharuk. He sent a powerful wave of mental energy, easily penetrating the creature’s weak mind. The tharuk uttered a strangled cry. Its knees buckled and it crashed to the floor amid the shards, gurgling and clutching at its throat. Moments later, it was still. Zens flicked a hand at the creature. “Place its hand in my tank and save its body for the dragons. We have to keep our lovelies well fed.”

  924, the beast’s troop leader, scrambled to grab the body.

  “924, have someone clean up this glass.” Zens waved his hand. “If more is smashed, you’ll be next.”

  He strode on, 000 beside him. Zens’ eyes flicked over the dark dragons, their wings furled in hundreds of fluid-filled tanks. “Everything’s going according to plan, 000. We have adequate dragons and mages to bring Dragons’ Realm to its knees.”

  “It’s just their aging that’s a problem, sir,” 000 ventured.

  “The growth acceleration gene is problematic, but it’s the only way to harvest so many creatures this quickly.” If the flaming mages and dragons could live longer than a few days, they’d be able to sustain the pressure on Dragons’ Realm and purge the sky of those arrogant dragon riders. “We must combat this premature aging, and keep up constant production.”

  “The teams are working on it, sir.”

  “I’m aware,” Zens replied dryly. “But it’s not enough. To win, we must strike at the heart of Dragons’ Hold.” He approached the double methimium-powered metal doors, which automatically slid open, admitting them through the short stone corridor to the broad exit tunnel, which thousands of slaves had died digging. A few slaves were a small price to pay for a tunnel wide enough to accommodate the broad wingspans of his shadow dragons in flight. Dragons in the holding area shifted, their furled wings rustling, his cloned mages rigid upon their backs.

  “But the mountains around the Dragons’ Hold are impenetrable.”

  Zens turned to his methimium ray, tucked against the tunnel wall. “That’s why we have this.” He wheeled it out in front of the dragons, turned it to face the wall, and flicked the switch. A beam of golden light sprang from the ray, illuminating nooks and crannies in the rock. Such a lovely warm light. The fools in Dragons’ Realm had no idea of the power of methimium. Stumbling upon this corner of the realm where methimium ore was as plentiful as the trees in their forests had been a rich reward for being trapped here with those stinking flying lizards and pompous riders. Riders that reminded him of the bullies who’d taunted him at school, back on Earth before he’d left in 2050 and been trapped here. He calibrated his methimium ray, turning the crude dial he’d made from the inferior materials available in Dragons’ Realm. He sighed.

  “Do you have the ring Bruno stole for us?” 000 asked.

  From any other tharuk, the question would have irritated Zens enough to end its life, but from 000, the query merely demonstrated the foresight and intelligence he’d engineered in his beloved. “Naturally—that’s why we’re here.” Zens drew the engraved jade ring out of his pocket and rubbed it. “Kisha,” he said triumphantly.

  Over his shoulder, a vortex of swirling gold clouds appeared, riddled with dark cracks that seeped shadowy mist. Just like his test this morning.

  A shimmering spirit appeared in the light.

  By the cursed dragons, it was Anakisha.

  “Zens? How dare you use my ring!” she mind-melded.

  “I thought I’d taken care of you,” Zens sneered. He’d drive the spirit of the stubborn ex-Queen’s Rider to her knees. “You know I tortured the new Queen’s Rider,” he taunted. “She didn’t stand a chance against me.”

  “And yet she lives,” Anakisha replied. “And leads her people in battle against you.”

  Those gentle yet defiant words got under his skin. He blasted her mind with enough power to kill ten tharuks.

  Anakisha’s spirit just smiled. “When will you learn that there’s more
power in love than there ever will be in hate or vengeance?”

  Sweat rolled off Zens’ forehead as he battled to subdue the woman’s spirit and snuff her out like a candle.

  The shimmering being remained, hands outstretched, pleading with him.

  At his side, 000 shifted, startling Zens. He’d been so focused, he’d forgotten his tharuk’s presence. “If you can’t kill the human, why not paralyze her with your mind?” 000 whispered.

  Brilliant. Zens blasted Anakisha’s spirit with his mind.

  Her face froze in a scream, eyes wide.

  Wiping his brow, Zens turned to 000. “Saddle the strongest dark dragon we have. I’m going hunting.”

  §

  This short scene is repeated from Dragon Strike, Riders of Fire book 4

  Giddi slumped over his dragon’s spinal ridge. He was bone tired. Weary, right down to the vibrations in his bones. It was worth it. As reinstated leader of the Wizard Council, this time he’d saved Dragons’ Realm. The war wasn’t over yet, but at least this battle had been won and Zens’ shadow dragons vanquished.

  A crack, like a quiet clap of thunder, sounded above him. Wearily, Giddi gazed up.

  Bathed in a blaze of golden light, a dark dragon loomed.

  It’d appeared out of nowhere. A vaguely-familiar rider was perched in its saddle. An unusually large rider with a bald head and bulging yellow eyes. Commander Zens—grinning triumphantly.

  “Master Giddi, I’ve long awaited the opportunity for us to work together. I appreciate your talents. I would never ban you from the Wizard Council or force you to lock out your beloved wife. Come, work with me. Let’s better Dragons’ Realm.”

  Giddi mind-blocked as the next barrage of Zens’ insidious thoughts hit his head. He locked Mazyka’s beloved face in his mind. It made no bones—Zens knew who she was, and she was now safe in Zens’ old world. Zens hammered his head relentlessly, trying to get in. Sweat beaded on Giddi’s brow.

  Not now, when his reserves were low and he was exhausted. He gritted his teeth, staving off Zens’ commands.