The beast choked and spluttered, trying to cough the arrow loose. Shrieking in fury, it plummeted to the forest, billowing smoke and flame.
Ezaara’s head throbbed. She checked the headband. Still in place. It had worked at first… Oh, shards! “Zaarusha, I think the crystal has a narrow range, so it protects us from their thoughts when we’re face to face, but not from the side.”
“That would explain why the others felt pain. Tonio and Antonika have reported no more dark dragon sightings. Let’s head back to the hold.”
Hours later, after much experimentation with their dragons, Tonio, Hendrik, Aidan and Ezaara reported back to the council.
Seated at the council table, Hendrik examined a headband, turning it in his large hands. “If Roberto can bring me more stones, I’ll make headbands with crystals all over them. I’ll place them a hand’s breadth apart around the fabric so they encircle each rider and dragon’s head.”
Ezaara nodded. “That should work.”
Roberto scrubbed his neck with his knuckles. “I’ll head back right after this meeting.”
“Isn’t Erob tired?” Ezaara melded.
“With the ring, it’s not far to fly.” He squeezed her hand under the table. “We’ll be home again soon.”
“I don’t like it. The realm gates have been leaking black mist, and Zens used them to capture Giddi. Be careful.” She couldn’t say much else—this could be their only chance against Zens.
Lars chimed in, “Hendrik, how many extra hands will you need to make enough headbands for our riders and dragons?”
Hendrik chewed his cheek. “Do you have thirty workers?”
Lars gestured to Derek, master of instruction. Derek hesitated, then gave a terse nod. “Consider it done. I’ve just melded with Reko and asked him to have forty riders report to your work cavern.”
Elbows on the tabletop, Lars rested his chin on his steepled hands. “We need battle strategies. The general council is dismissed, but all members of the war council please remain here so we can discuss how to wage battle once we have these new headbands.”
Master Hendrik and Master Derek quickly departed, leaving Ezaara, Lars, Aidan, Tonio, Alyssa, Roberto, and Jerrick at the table.
Aidan stood and strolled to the map of Dragons’ Realm on the wall, stabbing a finger at Death Valley. “If we can use that pirate tunnel to infiltrate Zens’ stronghold, we could wipe out his production of tharuks, mages, and dark dragons.” He moved his other hand from Dragons’ Hold across the map to Death Valley. “And if our forces can drive his dark dragons and tharuks westward, we could form a pincher between two wings of our dragons and riders and destroy his armies in the middle.”
Lars nodded. “I’ve been thinking much the same thing. We must get a team of riders into Death Valley.”
Roberto flinched. “Amato said the only access to the pirate tunnel is via the treacherous Naobian Strait, which is plagued by pirates and sea dragons.”
Aidan huffed. “Sea dragons? They’re a myth!”
Roberto’s eyes turned hard.
Tonio’s head snapped around. “Not where we come from, they’re not,” he growled. “As I mentioned earlier, I’ve already sent one of my dragon corps’ riders to seek a pirate and a ship so we can deploy our riders via the tunnel. I also interrogated Amato further. Apparently this hidden tunnel is along a cliff, only accessible via shark-infested waters at high tide. We can’t take our dragons. But if the council thinks this approach will work, I’ll take a small party of fighters and see if we can destroy Zens’ headquarters.”
Aidan pursed his lips, frowning. “I don’t want to throw riders away on a whim, but if we can destroy the creatures and mages he’s growing, we may have a chance of winning this war.”
“We could also rescue Master Giddi,” Roberto said. “But I’ll have to take Amato with me.”
Ezaara stifled a gasp, her hands clenching the base of her chair. “Roberto, you’re not serious. You can’t go back to Death Valley. Last time, Zens nearly killed you.”
“And you,” Roberto retorted mentally. “If someone’s got to do this, it might as well be me,” he said aloud to Lars and Tonio. “I don’t trust my father with anyone else. I’ll watch him like a hawk and make sure he’s not double-crossing us.”
“So would I,” Tonio replied, ice in his voice.
“If you go, I’m coming with you,” Ezaara barked.
Roberto’s mind flinched at the vehemence in her tone. “As Queen’s Rider, there’s no way you’re going back. Our realm needs you.”
“And I need you,” Ezaara glared at Roberto.
He ignored her, his eyes on Lars.
“We don’t need both of you there.” Lars’ gaze flitted between Tonio and Roberto. “Roberto, I’d like you to get more crystals from Naobia, then return as soon as possible so you can plan how to infiltrate this tunnel to Death Valley.”
Tonio opened his mouth to protest.
Lars smacked his gavel on the table. “No, Tonio, we need you here. We can’t afford to lose you.”
“As if we can afford to lose Roberto!” Ezaara stood, shoving her chair back. It clattered to the rocky floor as she strode from the cavern, her sword slapping against her thigh.
§
“Erob, grab a goat and meet me on the ledge when you’re done feeding. I’ve got to talk to Ezaara.” Roberto raced out of the council room after her, pounding the stone.
As he neared their chamber, he saw her. “Ezaara, wait!”
She ran into their cavern and slammed the door.
He shoved it open and stormed into the room.
She wheeled on him, shaking a fist in his face. “Why did you have to volunteer? I’d be happy if we lost Tonio in Death Valley—but not you. You barely escaped last time. Now you’re heading off to Zens again.”
Roberto stepped back. He’d expected tears, not anger.
Eyes bright, her chest heaved. “I’ll have Zaarusha forbid it.”
“I think it’s a good idea,” the queen replied. “We could save the lives of many riders.”
Ezaara spun toward Zaarusha’s den. “I didn’t ask you!”
“We have to save Master Giddi, and there’s only one way in,” Roberto reasoned. “Tharuks will be patrolling the Terramites along Death Valley, so we wouldn’t stand a chance of flying over the mountain range.” Surely, she had to understand. “If I take a group through that pirate tunnel, we may stand a chance. And I don’t trust my father. I have to keep an eye on him.”
“All right, when do we leave?” Ezaara thrust her fists onto her hips, jutting her jaw out.
“What?! We?” Roberto scrubbed a hand through his hair. Ezaara was being so sharding stubborn. “You’re not going anywhere near Death Valley.”
Ezaara stalked toward him until she was nose-to-chin with him. “I’m Queen’s Rider, and I’ll go where I want.”
“No,” he barked. “No, you’re not going back there. I won’t have Zens catching you and replicating you. We can’t risk hundreds of Queen’s Riders, all able to meld with every dragon at will. Can you imagine the power Zens would have? The torture on our dragons’ minds? Can you imagine…” His voice broke. Gods, he was losing control again. “M-my agony if I lost you?”
Ezaara huffed. “I’ve withstood Zens once. I can do it again.”
He very much doubted that indeed, but kept quiet.
“So, you’ll go with your father, who has abused and beaten you and been a servant of Zens for years, but I—your most loyal friend, your lover, your wife—can’t come?”
“For those very reasons.”
“So it’s because I’m a woman, is it?”
“No, that has nothing to do with it.”
She narrowed her eyes, as if he was on trial. “Anyway, I thought you hated Amato.” Ezaara flung an arm out, nearly hitting his face. “What’s the sudden change? Have you finally decided to forgive him?”
“No, I’ll never forgive him. Never stop hating him.”
She
folded her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Yes. As soon as we’re done with him, he dies.” Roberto tried to take her in his arms.
She pushed him away and turned her back on him. “Roberto, the risk is too high.”
“I know,” he murmured, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “But if we do nothing, the risk is even higher. I have to go.” He kissed the soft skin on the side of her neck.
She disentangled herself from his arms and stalked away. “Go. Get those flaming crystals, and then leave for Death Valley.”
§
Hans awoke. Not again. The past three nights he’d had nightmares. Tonight he’d dreamed of spades striking the earth, reverberations running up his arms, the stench of his own sweat, slaves on either side of him as far as he could see, digging. Dust coating his mouth, sweat trickling down his neck and his hands aching and blistered.
He sat up and scratched the back of his neck. The dream was so vivid.
Beside him, Marlies’ breathing was peaceful. He was at Dragons’ Hold in bed—not underground in one of Zens’ mining shafts. He flexed his hands. No blisters. But the dream had been so real.
It could be a prophetic vision. Maybe the other dreams were too. Sometimes it was hard to tell. With creeping horror, Hans realized the dream could become reality. This time, he had to tell Lars, and fast. He swung his feet out of bed, slipped into his boots, and ran for Lars’ cavern.
Courting Pirates
Kierion woke before Danion, left him a scrawled note, and trudged through the slush to the Brothers’ Arms—the best source of gossip in Montanara and the favorite drinking hole of liars, thieves, and tharuks. What if Adelina wasn’t in Montanara? He was only operating on a dragon’s hunch.
“And what’s wrong with my hunches?” Riona melded.
“Where are you?” Kierion asked. “I thought you were going to sleep at my father’s farm?”
“I decided to keep an eye on the square. Just because there was no sign of tharuks when we arrived, didn’t mean none would turn up.”
“Any trouble last night, then?”
“No. Surprisingly, all was quiet. None of the blue guards have seen a tharuk for days.” Riona snorted. “We’ve probably scared them all off.”
“Not likely.”
What if Adelina had been captured by tharuks in Spanglewood Forest? He’d search the whole realm to find her. But his first stop was the Brothers’ Arms. He huffed on his frozen fingers and thrust his hands deep in his pockets. One of them struck the heavy coin pouch Tonio had given him. Oh shards, he’d almost forgotten that the spymaster had asked him to secure a passage to that pirate tunnel.
Kierion rushed down Nightshade Alley, strode up the steps to the tavern, and pushed open the door.
Bleary-eyed patrons nursed beer tankards, slumped over plates of bacon and eggs, under a fug of stale beer and smoke. Kierion ducked between tables, scanning each guest’s face. None of the early morning patrons was short with dark hair. His stomach clenched. Gods, he had to find her. He stepped around a snoring Nightshader’s outstretched legs, then knocked before opening the door at the back of the room that led to Captain’s lair.
“Ah, Kierion. Back so soon.” Captain’s scarred face twisted into a grin that showed the gaps in his blackened teeth. “Game of nukils?”
He had to stay bright and breezy, despite how he felt. “Perhaps later, sir. First, I need to discuss a little business.”
Captain raised an eyebrow. “Again? Haven’t you already wheedled enough out of me?” Captain pushed a beer across the table toward Kierion. “Sit down and drink with me.”
Kierion sat and ran a finger around the rim of the tankard, then took a sip of the foul-tasting stuff. “You must miss the sea.”
“A pirate feels the same way about his ship as a dragon rider feels about his mount.”
Mount! Kierion refrained from snorting. “A dragon’s not some horse you ride. We’re best friends.” It was so much more. He swept his hand in a grandiose gesture. “Imprinting is a strong bond, unlike anything you’ve experienced.”
“As I said, just like a ship,” Captain barked. “So, no time for a game, but time for idle chatter?”
The flaming captain was shrewd. It’d be hard to play him a second time.
Because Kierion had saved his life, Captain had taken him into the Nightshaders, but now that Captain knew Kierion, he might as well play this straight. Elbows on the table, Kierion leaned forward. “I have a proposition for you.”
The captain folded his arms across his chest. His face didn’t even show a twitch. “Go on.”
“How would you like to get back into the saddle, so to speak?”
“You mean back on a ship.”
Kierion gave a short nod. “Dragons’ Realm needs you.”
The captain’s eyes narrowed.
Pushing his glass aside, Kierion said, “I need to sneak in through the pirate tunnel to Death Valley. But first, I need someone to sail me there.”
Clapping the flat of his palms on the table, the captain pushed back his chair and stood. “What for? Slaving? Zens’ slaves are useless. Bare husks of people, unable to be trained as warriors. It’s a waste of your time and mine, and possibly a waste of our lives. The Scarlet Hand and the Bloody Cutlasses still roam those seas, you know.”
“I know,” Kierion said quietly, a shiver rippling up his spine at the mention of the bloodthirsty pirates.
The captain’s brow furrowed. “If you’re not training slaves, then why in the flaming blazes do you want to get into Death Valley?”
“To destroy Zens’ headquarters where he creates those foul creatures.” Kierion grinned and flicked a hand skyward, sure the captain would remember the dark beast that had drooled over him, about to snap him up as he hung precariously from a rooftop.
“Those shadow dragons?” Captain pulled a red spotted ’kerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow.
“And his tharuks,” Kierion added.
The captain’s eyes gleamed. “I’m in,” he said, slapping his hands on the tabletop again. “With this war, business has all but dried up in Montanara. Do you have a ship?” His eyes narrowed.
“Ah, not yet.” Kierion fingered the sack of gold in his pocket.
Captain strode around the table. He slapped Kierion’s shoulder. “Just as well I do, then, isn’t it? But keep that between you and me. I want every coin you have in that bulging pocket of yours. You can tell your superiors I had to bargain my rump off to secure a fine girl to sail in.”
Kierion had never understood why captains referred to their ships as females, but, right now, he didn’t care. He pushed back his chair. “There is one proviso.”
Captain merely raised an eyebrow.
“I need to bring a select group of dragon riders with me.”
“No problem,” the captain ground out, sounding anything but pleased.
“And a couple of dragons,” Kierion added, watching Captain’s eyebrows shoot up.
“Two or three maximum, or they’ll sink my ship.”
“Deal.” Kierion tossed the pouch of gold on the table. “Here you go. That’s all I have.”
The captain showed him out to the taproom. “Time for a celebratory drink, don’t you think?”
Gods, not another beer. Kierion couldn’t stand the stuff, but he swaggered out to the bar, nodding at the bedraggled members of the Nightshader crew, and took a seat at the bar with Captain.
“Two beers, my lovie,” the captain ordered.
A short barkeep wearing a floppy hat looked up at Kierion. “What will it be, light ale or dark?”
Kierion nearly fell off his barstool. That voice. Those gorgeous dark eyes. Adelina gazed at him, waiting. She was still wearing the dragon earrings he’d given her. Her eyes shot him a warning stare, so he kept his trap shut. Whatever she was doing here, he didn’t want to give it away.
The captain cracked his neck. “So when do we leave?”
�
�I was thinking tomorrow.” Kierion pretended to take a long pull, just managing a sip, and put his glass back down on the counter. He wiped the back of his mouth with his hand. Shards, he had to think fast. Maybe he should claim Adelina the way Danion had claimed Gret to keep her out of harm’s way. Hmm, that might work. He cocked his head, letting his gaze linger on Adelina, who was chopping a lemon. “How about letting the girl come too? She looks like she’s handy with a knife.”
A low growl built in the captain’s throat. “She’s too young for the likes of you,” the captain snarled.
Kierion shrugged. “Too young for anyone,” he replied, watching a warning fire flicker in Adelina’s beautiful, dark eyes. Gods, he was so glad to see her. “But it just so happens she’s one of the dragon riders I’d mentioned. She has to come with us.”
Captain spluttered his brew over the counter. “Not another bleeding undercover rider!”
Adelina snatched a cloth and wiped the counter down. She smiled sweetly, pulling off her hat. “Thank the Egg for that, Kierion. I hate wearing this thing. Where are we going?”
“May I introduce Adelina, rider of Linaia,” Kierion said, his heart soaring with joy.
The captain tipped back his head and laughed raucously, his belly jiggling against the bar.
§
The next day, Master Roberto strode into the Brothers’ Arms, looking like he owned the place. A gaggle of dragon riders wandered in behind him, greeting Kierion and squeezing into seats between patrons slouched over tables and deep in their cups. Kierion couldn’t help but admire Roberto’s cool assurance as he strode straight for the captain who was seated at the bar nursing an ale. Roberto’s dark eyes swept across the captain’s face, cataloging every scar and nick.
“So you’re our captain,” Roberto said. “It’s been a while since I’ve dealt with Naobian pirates.”
The captain’s eyes flicked over Roberto’s tanned Naobian skin, took in his black eyes and hair, so similar to Adelina’s. The captain’s terse nod was his only reply. He gestured at the riders seated in the taproom, including Kierion, who’d just returned from patrolling Spanglewood Forest with Fenni. “I take it you’re the leader of this rabble of dragon riders.”
Riders of Fire Complete Series Box Set books 1-6: YA Epic Fantasy Dragon Rider Adventures Page 131
