A raised eyebrow was Roberto’s only answer.
“Want a drink?” Captain asked.
“Oh gods, Riona,” Kierion melded. “We forgot to tell Erob about Adelina so he could warn Roberto.”
“He’s a grown man. I’m sure he’ll withstand the shock.”
Roberto’s gaze swept across the bar, taking in his sister, not twitching an eyelid.
Adelina’s dark eyes simmered at her brother.
Was she angry at him? Gods, she’d been angry at Kierion too. What in the Egg’s name was going on with her?
Roberto’s lip curled. “No, thank you, Captain. I like to keep my head clear when talking business.”
Captain spluttered and pushed his own beer back across the bar. He stood and ushered Roberto through the crowded tables past patrons drowning in ale, into his lair. “Feel free to take a seat.”
Through the open doorway, Kierion saw Roberto sit, propping an ankle on his knee. “I hear you’re happy to provide a crew and ship for my troop of riders.”
“Happy’s not the word I’d use,” Captain growled, slamming the door.
Roberto had ignored Adelina, but his cool gaze had taken in his sister, all right. He hadn’t even flipped an eyebrow. That guy was tough. But then again, Kierion supposed he’d have to be tough, what with the abuse he’d withstood at Amato’s hands and how he’d twice survived Zens’ slave camps.
Death Valley had been bad enough from dragonback. Kierion shuddered. Soon they’d all be back there on foot.
Snared
The forest swept past beneath Leah, snow gleaming in the wan winter sun beyond the blue guard’s massive wings. Occasionally, the dragon let them down to stretch their legs or see to their needs, then they were back in the saddle, pressing on. When darkness came, Leah and Taliesin tied themselves into the saddle, the inky canopy bright with stars.
After two days, they reached the edge of the red guards’ territory. The blue guard descended to land beside a river. They slid off its back.
The dragon bowed her head and Leah placed her hand upon it.
“You only have a few hours’ walk until you meet red guards.” The dragon’s talons raked the snow. “I’d like to accompany you, but I’ve already delayed too long. I must report the slaughter of my fellow dragons and riders to Dragons’ Hold and warn them of the dark dragon horde we encountered.”
Leah swallowed. It had been comforting to ride the dragon. Now they were on their own again. “Thank you for bringing us this far.”
The dragon chuckled. “You won’t be alone for long. Once you find the red guards, they’ll give you piaua juice and bring you home again. Take the human food from my saddlebags. I don’t need it.”
Leah nodded, lost for words, and crammed as much food as they could carry into her rucksack.
Taliesin waved as the dragon took to the sky over the treetops, its mighty blue wings soon disappearing from sight.
§
“Are you all right?” Leah asked, holding back fern fronds so Taliesin could walk through the narrow trail winding between the woods.
Taliesin was clutching his head and blinking rapidly.
Something was wrong. Perhaps it was because he hadn’t had much time to recover from life as a slave in Death Valley. She fished in her pocket for some hard cheese and a crust of bread and handed it to him, hoping he wasn’t about to collapse.
Taliesin tilted his head, munching on cheese and bread.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I have a bad feeling. A strong one. I’m not sure what it means, but I know there’s something waiting. Something that isn’t good.”
Leah took a swig from the waterskin, then offered it to him. “So, you haven’t seen a vision this time?”
He shook his head.
“Best we proceed stealthily, then.” She tugged his hand, leading him forward.
After trudging for an hour, the stench of smoke reached Leah.
Taliesin’s eyes widened. “It smells like Lush Valley did after battle.”
He was right—the scent of smoke, charred wood, and burnt flesh hung in the air. Leah wrinkled her nose, remembering the stink of the tharuks she’d battled with then; the awful inky blood that had spilled from their fetid bodies. She gave a shiver, wiggling the stump of her little finger—the finger a tharuk had chopped off before she’d been brought to Dragons’ Hold for healing.
They slunk through the bushes, staying off the narrow track, raking dead branches in the snow behind them, but even then, their tracks were visible in the snow. And they were leaving a clear scent—tharuk trackers had such a keen sense of smell.
§
1402 snuffled, nostrils twitching, his head swaying to catch the scent carried by the breeze. “Two humans. That way.” He waved his furry hand for his troop to fall in behind him. Claws springing from his fingers, he kept his nose in the air, gesturing his troops to tread softly.
They needed a few more slaves to meet their quota before they could return to Death Valley and receive their reward.
Snow muffled the tharuks’ footfalls, although some of the grunts behind him were too loud. Halfwits. He’d teach them a lesson later. He motioned them to halt while he crept forward and parted the bushes. Lucky some of these trees kept their leaves in winter.
There the puny humans were. Defenseless and tired. No weapons drawn.
1402 snarled and pointed at their quarry. His troops sprang forward, bashing their way through the bushes.
§
A snarl ripped through the sparse undergrowth. Taliesin jerked his head up. “Tharuks!”
They scrambled to their feet. Leah drew her sword, facing the charging beast, pushing him behind her. “Run, Taliesin. Run.”
But Taliesin’s blood had frozen. His feet were rooted to the ground. Not tharuks. Not again. He tried to move his limbs, but they were wooden.
He should run. Flee. Anything to avoid becoming a tharuk slave again.
Memories whirled through his head: blood, beatings, awful whippings. He would have died if it hadn’t been for Tomaaz. Taliesin gulped as an ugly brute neared and snatched him up, flinging him over its shoulder. He struggled and thrashed in its grip.
“Pesky human.” Its claws dug into his thighs, pinning him against its fetid fur as it ran through the sparse snow-laden forest.
§
Leah screamed as a tharuk batted her sword aside and snatched up Taliesin, flinging him over its back. Streaks of blood showed where the beast’s claws pierced his breeches. Eyes wide over the tharuk’s shoulder, Taliesin didn’t scream. Not once. He was so brave.
She’d been a fool—she should’ve listened when he’d told her he had a bad feeling. The poor boy was destined for the slave camps once again. She’d seen the scars on his back one night as he changed his shirt. Even healed by piaua, there were ugly curling welts where the lash had scored deep.
In front of Leah, a tharuk thrust its ugly snout near her face. Its fetid breath washed over her as it gave a guttural whisper, “Don’t fight. Will go better for you.”
Better for her? She’d never heard of tharuks being concerned about anyone’s welfare. Instead of crushing her in its grip or manhandling her with sharp talons, the tharuk took her hand and led her down a trail among the snarling troop. This tharuk was large, and although the troop leader glared at it, the tharuk led her along in a rapid stumble through the snow, Leah’s mind whirling and her feet numb like clumsy stones at the end of her legs.
§
1402 narrowed its beady red eyes staring at 274, who was leading that human with long hair along the trail. No blood was visible. 274 hadn’t used its claws, but had taken the small human by the hand and grunted something at it. 274 was fast and good at capturing humans—the reason it was in this troop—but sometimes 1402 wondered whether the grunt was soft in the head.
It snorted. 274 got results from the slaves it commanded, so it’d leave the grunt be—for now.
“Move it,” 1402 thundered.
The troop increased their pace as they ran back to the meeting point.
§
After half an hour’s march through the snow, the tharuk troop brought Leah and Taliesin to the outskirts of a village—or what had been a village. Houses had their thatch ripped off. Doors flapped in the breeze, flurries of snow driven inside hallways. The large tharuk tugged Leah along. Her boots crunched through smashed glass from broken windows. Everywhere, the snow was splattered and smeared with red.
As they neared the center of the village, the crack of whips snapped through the air. Moans rang out.
Taliesin, over the shoulder of the tharuk in front of Leah, had gone stock still. His arms flopped down its back. His eyes were wide, unseeing.
Leah sped up, closing the gap between them. “Taliesin,” she whispered.
Not a glimmer of recognition showed on his face. His breath huffed out of him, rapid and shallow, as if he had a terrible injury. It must be the shock of being captured again. The poor boy.
“Taliesin.” She grabbed one of his hands and squeezed it. No response. Oh gods, if she were to break free, she’d have to carry him. Throat tight, Leah swallowed.
When the troop reached the village square, cages built on wagons greeted them. People were slumped inside, resting against the bars, eyes vacant. More tharuks converged upon the square, carrying other people. The beasts shoved them into a group. Four tharuks strode among the newly-captured slaves, passing them waterskins and forcing them to drink. The tharuk carrying Taliesin dumped him on the ground nearby and forced his mouth open. Another beast held the waterskin to his mouth. The contents sloshed over his face and neck as he glugged it down, spluttering and choking.
Leah glanced about furtively. No one was watching her. She tugged the loose thread hanging from her sleeve and pulled a dried clear-mind berry off the end, grateful for Marlies’ foresight in making them all sew the berries into their rider’s garb, weeks before the shadow dragons had appeared. She coughed, holding her hand to her mouth, and furtively swallowed the berry.
A beast forced the man next to her to drink. Trembling, he swallowed the water, eyes wide with fear. His forearm was gashed and bleeding from tharuk claws.
It was Leah’s turn next. Her tharuk held up the skin. She drank, swallowing deeply, resisting the temptation to spit out the foul-tasting water. So that’s what numlocked water tasted like—muddy, somehow tainted. As the new slaves drank, their moans stopped.
Leah scanned the sky. How had the village been captured so easily when it was supposed to be under the protection of the red guards?
As tharuks herded them into cages, Leah let her jaw drop and her eyelids droop, imitating the villagers around her—no, slaves. They were all slaves now, bound to do the tharuks’ bidding.
Her shoulders were heavy. Her body, weak. By letting fatigue and hunger weary her, she’d walked straight into a horde of tharuks. It was her fault. Taliesin had warned her. And now they were captured. Oh gods. They had to get piaua juice. Marlies was relying on her. The whole of Dragons’ Realm was. If they didn’t get piaua—and soon—there would be no hope of dragons or riders surviving this war. She slumped on the wagon bed next to Taliesin and leaned against the bars of their prison.
Taliesin’s worst nightmare had been realized. She never should’ve brought him along.
Wagon wheels creaked. Teams of horses and oxen pulled the wagons out of the square. Tharuks whipped them mercilessly. More tharuks pushed the wagons from behind. Leah’s tharuk pushed the corner of the wagon closest to where she leaned against the bars of the cage. They were like animals being wheeled to a slaughterhouse. Maybe it was better to be slaughtered than to become a slave.
Taliesin was sprawled next to her, eyes glazed and jaw hanging open.
No, she couldn’t give up. She had to get him out of here—had to stay alert so they could escape. But the squeaking wagon wheels soon lulled her to sleep.
Artistic Flair
Leah jolted awake in the dark and glanced about, letting her jaw hang slack in case a beast was watching. Next to her, Taliesin was snoring softly. Most of the slaves in her cage were dozing. Two wagon cages over, tharuks were waking slaves to give them more numlock and a hunk of bread, but no one was watching her.
She had to be quick. Tharuks could be at her cage any moment. Leah nudged Taliesin awake and shoved some clear-mind berries in his mouth, then also chewed a couple. Then she took a pouch of dragon scale from her jerkin pocket and sprinkled a pinch on his tongue to keep his fingernails and eyes gray like a numlocked slave’s. After swallowing a pinch, she tucked the pouch away for safekeeping. Thank the dragon gods none of the tharuks had looked too closely at her eyes or fingernails that day. It was a blessing she’d had her eyes shut. Glad she’d listened to Marlies’ lessons on herbal remedies, Leah slumped back against the bars of the cage and waited.
And waited.
Bored, she plucked up some stray sticks and leaves from the wagon floor and wound them together, forming a long snake. She bunched some leaves together to make a head and split one to make a tongue, fingers working nimbly in the darkness. Since she’d been a littling, she’d always made little figurines from twigs and bits and pieces, especially when she was nervous. Eventually, Ma had sold them at the market. But nervousness hardly described the terror that was rising within her. She remembered the tharuk who’d hacked off the end of her finger. Remembered tales of the slave camp in Death Valley. There was nothing she could do. They were trapped here, being led ever closer to Death Valley.
Among the trees, tharuks made a fire, tossing fallen saplings and branches on the heap until it was blazing. In the flickering light, it was easier to work. She completed her snake, turning her handiwork over in her lap to inspect it. A fetid rotting smell wafted over her. Gods, those tharuks stank.
“What that?”
The grunty voice made Leah flinch. Her tharuk was right behind her.
It thrust its snout at the cage, sniffing her. Its eyes fell to the snake in her hands.
Leah dropped the snake into her lap, letting her jaw hang loose, staring straight ahead.
The beast grunted, thrusting a clawed finger through the bars, pointing at the snake. “Give me. Now.” The number 274 was tattooed on a bald patch inside its wrist.
She didn’t dare speak, but Leah turned her head, desperately trying to look dull-witted. Although this tharuk might be milder than the rest, the threat in its voice was real. And its claws were only a hand’s breadth from her face. Mouth dry, Leah picked up the snake and passed it to the tharuk.
The beast hurriedly glanced around, then stroked the snake. “Pretty.” It tucked the snake inside its breastplate and thrust a waterskin through the bars. “Drink now.” More tharuks converged upon the cage with waterskins and hunks of bread.
Although Leah was hankering for the dried meat and cheese in her rucksack, she didn’t dare open it for fear of letting the beasts know she wasn’t numlocked. But then again, maybe the snake had given her away already.
As soon as dawn broke, while tharuk snores rumbled through the trees, Leah gave Taliesin more berries and dragon scale. The next day was much the same. As the cage trundled on through the forest, Leah made a rabbit, a calf and even a majestic stag for her tharuk. Each time, he would take her offering and tuck it deep within his breastplate, glancing about to make sure the troop leader and none of the other tharuks noticed.
By sundown, she was out of twigs and leaves. As dusk fell, the tharuks started another blazing fire and roasted rats, crunching down the entrails and slurping as if it was the best meal in Dragons’ Realm.
When her tharuk came for her next offering, she shrugged, gesturing at the barren floor of her cage.
The tharuk grunted and rushed off, returning with bits of broken twig.
Leah could’ve groaned. That wouldn’t help her escape. She pretended to craft the sticks, deliberately breaking them and hissing in frustration. She glowered at the sticks, then gestured to the nearby trees. Tr
ees that would provide good cover if she and Taliesin were to escape.
§
With a grunt, Leah’s tharuk disappeared and returned with a bundle of keys. Holding the keys so they wouldn’t clank, it unlocked the cage and swung the door open. The beast gestured for Leah to come out. But she clung onto Taliesin’s hand, refusing to leave without him. The tharuk snorted, waving urgently and glancing at its troop fighting over the remains of rats around the fire. Its message was clear: they didn’t have long before they’d be noticed.
Leah shuffled across the cage floor, dragging Taliesin with her. The boy clambered out of the wagon. With a frustrated snort, the tharuk hustled them into the trees. Leah’s heart pounded—like a woodpecker was trapped within her chest.
When they were behind the cover of some evergreens, she stooped and picked up sticks, cones, and needles to fashion a dragon. She took her time weaving the complex form, hoping to come up with an idea of how to escape. They were outside now, but still under the watch of this beast. He might be friendlier than the rest, but he’d still slit their throats if they ran.
She wandered farther into the trees and broke a twig off a pine. Soft whispers echoed through the trees. A little farther on, she found a branch with dead buds of tiny cones and used them to create spines along the dragon’s back. Then she used a tapered piece of bark to weave a dragon’s tail. She couldn’t keep this up for long. The beast would soon suspect something.
The tharuk snuffled, eagerly ferreting out sticks for limbs. Taliesin trailed behind her and the beast, still looking numlocked, despite the clear-mind berries. Gods, she hoped he was feigning it.
Leah slowed her fingers, trying to buy time and distance, still weaving, but making her work look cumbersome.
The tharuk prodded her back with an impatient claw. She sped up. No point in getting injured.
Snarls broke out behind them, coming from the cages. A roar shook the trees. Snow thudded from branches. Taliesin flinched—he wasn’t numlocked after all, just in shock.
Riders of Fire Complete Series Box Set books 1-6: YA Epic Fantasy Dragon Rider Adventures Page 132
