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

by Eileen Mueller

  Fenni did laugh.

  Danion snarled, rushing Fenni and scoring a tap to his leg. Then Lovina lunged at Fenni.

  Fenni ducked and blew a gust of wind at Lovina, muttering, “Not fair, I’d drive you back with a decent flame.”

  Roberto’s muscles sang as he ducked, parried and blocked. Then he drove Danion hard against the rail—at a cost—Danion scored a tap on Roberto’s chest.

  The whole time, Gret called out instructions, “Sword higher, Lovina. That’s the way. Tomaaz, you’re leaving your flank open. See, that’s how Danion gets past your guard.”

  Not once did she mention Fenni. Roberto had the feeling it wasn’t only because Fenni wasn’t using a sword.

  Roberto drove himself hard. Soon his arms were gleaming with sweat, and salt stung his eyes, but he kept on fighting. Driving himself—the way he’d always driven himself when he was unhappy.

  §

  They’d lost. Fenni sighed. Despite Roberto being an excellent swordsman, having only two of them and him not being able to use his full powers, the others had beaten them. Danion hadn’t come back at him again, just focused on Roberto, and Fenni hadn’t wanted to blast Tomaaz or Lovina too hard. In the end, the three of them had ganged up on Roberto, and the master had surrendered.

  Not wanting to ruin Roberto’s day, Fenni offered to do the dishes for them.

  When Fenni finished in the galley and came back on deck with a muslin-wrapped package in his hand, he was greeted by the clash of steel upon steel. He came around the corner of the captain’s cabin, and his jaw dropped. A bandanna tied around her forehead, Gret had stripped down to her tight undershirt and breeches, her tanned arms and shoulders glistening in the Naobian sun as she leaped and parried—with Danion. Her muscles rippled as she moved. Fenni would’ve been transfixed, were it not for her opponent.

  Older than him and broader through the chest, Danion had stripped down to the waist, his heavily-muscled chest and abdomen gleaming with sweat. He leaped forward, his arms flexing as he parried, then lunged. Danion was stationed in Montanara. How could he be so tan when it was midwinter there? Fenni tugged his cloak around himself, suddenly aware of how wizarding hadn’t developed his own muscles. Skin and bone, his mother had said when he was a littling. But he hadn’t stayed that way. Sure, his chest was broader now, and his arms too, but nothing like the toned man fighting Gret.

  Gret whirled then swung low, making Danion leap, sword swinging wildly in his outstretched hand. She lunged under his guard and struck him on the chest. He grabbed her sword arm and tugged her against him.

  She tipped back her head and gave a full-throated laugh. There were both breathing heavily, chests rising and falling. “You’d be dead if we were really fighting.” Gret grinned.

  Danion laughed. “A gentleman always lets the lady win.”

  “A fine excuse,” Gret crowed. “But I beat you fair and square.” Her eyes appraised his torso. “I got you smack in the chest. Admit it, you’ve met the superior swordswoman.” Still grinning, her eyes flicked to Fenni. The merriment in her eyes died.

  Danion shot Fenni a look that would have cracked a dragon egg, then turned away, twirling his sword. “Anyone up for another bout?”

  Fenni approached Gret. “Uh, I, um, made this for you.” He passed her the package and she opened it, revealing a honeyed flatbread.

  Her eyebrows flew up. “Thank you, Fenni. That was thoughtful.” She bit into it and turned back to watch the others.

  Roberto approached Danion. “How about you against me? Everyone else has had a turn.” He waved a hand at Kierion, who was still leaning over the gunnels, his lunch kissing the sea. “Except our great dragon-leaping friend here. I’m glad the sea has bested him. I was beginning to think he was good at everything.”

  Amid laughter, Kierion groaned and then heaved again. Adelina patted his shoulder, biting her lip.

  At least Adelina cared about Kierion. Despite Gret kissing him, back in Montanara, Fenni had no idea how she felt about him.

  §

  “Tie off the jib sheet,” the captain called.

  Gret gritted her teeth and gripped the line, turning her back on Danion and Fenni. Even though the ship was enormous, the space between the creaking timbers was too small for her. Between Danion shooting her flashy smiles and Fenni bristling and dripping green mage sparks whenever he saw Danion, she wanted to flee. It was bad enough that the handsome rogue Danion had kissed her in Montanara and set heat searing through her body before she’d chosen Fenni.

  But Fenni’s territorial attitude was killing her. She licked a morsel of honey off a finger and gripped the line again.

  She’d heard of creatures like groundhogs with enormous spines on their backs that lived in the Wastelands. The males would fight to the death to win their chosen female. It was like having two of them around. Everywhere she turned, they bristled, stabbing each other with eyes like daggers. If only she could jump into the ocean and disappear.

  Gret sniffed the salty brine deep into her nostrils and tied off the jib sheet, glad to be busy.

  §

  Roberto and Danion had just sheathed their swords when a cry came from the crow’s nest. “Ship Ahoy.”

  One of the captain’s crew shimmied down the main mast and dashed to the helm. “Red Sails, Captain. Bearing down on us from starboard.”

  Captain cursed. “That’ll be The Bloody Cutlasses. Hopefully the Scarlet Hand isn’t on board that ship.”

  Roberto’s spine ran cold. The Bloody Cutlasses were infamous for terrorizing the Naobian Sea. Wherever they struck, they left no survivors. They said their leader, the Scarlet Hand, drank the blood of his enemies.

  Plans

  Giddi cracked an eye open, and then the other. He released his breath in a gust. He was finally alone, except for the tanks and the unconscious mages strapped to the beds nearby. He raised his neck off the table and gazed at the tanks—and the people Zens was growing inside them. There were dozens of replicas of Velrama and Sorcha, but others too. Was that Arturo? Yes, but Giddi had seen him struck down dead in the forest, near Montanara.

  How could Zens possibly grow his body if he was dead? Unless…

  Giddi gagged on the thought. Zens was using material from fresh corpses. He rolled to the side heaving, but his stomach was empty. He hadn’t eaten in days.

  Zens could be planning to use Giddi’s own body the same way to replicate his formidable powers. Gods, no. He was the most powerful mage in Dragons’ Realm. There’d be no end to the horror Zens could wreak with a hundred of him at his command.

  He glanced around the tanks, but there didn’t seem to be anyone in them that remotely resembled him. Thank the Dragon Gods.

  Zens must have a darker purpose in mind.

  An idea sprang to mind. And took root. Suddenly, Giddi knew what Zens wanted him for. Ice slithered down his spine. Gods, things were much worse than he’d thought.

  He flicked a finger, but no spark came forth. That couldn’t stop him. Giddi pulled sathir from the air around him and stored it deep in his core, where it crackled and hummed.

  When Zens came for him, Giddi would be ready.

  §

  Zens tweaked the dial and stepped back from the methimium ray as its golden beams hit the cavern wall. Behind him, hundreds of restless dragons shifted at the sudden light.

  Zens turned to 000. “Assemble my tharuk troops. Gather all of my slaves still healthy enough to dig. Make sure each has adequate tools. We’ll move them today so they can start work.”

  000 stared at the golden swirling portal before them.

  “Also bring every dark dragon strong enough to fly,” Zens added, “and every mage ready to ride.”

  His beloved tharuk tore his gaze away from the portal and turned to him. “What’s their destination, sir? Have you found a new methimium mine?” A smile tugged the corners of 000’s mouth up.

  Zens rubbed his hands together, his laughter echoing down the broad exit tunnel from his laboratory.
“No, 000, we’re going to be mining dragons and riders.”

  A Suspicious Lull

  Roberto had been gone six days already, and still no word. Not that she expected one. Ezaara put down her hairbrush. It was useless fretting. It wasn’t like Roberto had taken messenger birds with him. And she hadn’t exactly given him a chance to talk to her—she’d been too mad about being left behind, and Tonio had been in such a hurry to dispatch them. Ezaara pulled back her quilt and was just getting into bed—alone—when someone knocked at the door.

  Mara came in holding a small tube of parchment.

  “What is it?” Ezaara asked.

  “A message from Giant John,” Mara said. “It just arrived.”

  “What did he say?”

  “The last tharuks they saw at Horseshoe Bend were over a few days ago, and there’s been none since. Or any dark dragons. It’s suspicious. He believes Zens is planning something. And he said to remind Master Jerrick about the strongwood trees.”

  “Strongwood trees?”

  “They grow throughout Great Spanglewood Forest. In fact, everywhere. They’re as common as flies in summer.”

  “I know that. What about them?”

  “You mean you haven’t heard?” Mara smiled. “I sometimes forget you’re from Lush Valley.”

  “What are you talking about?” Ezaara asked.

  Mara grinned. “There’s a rumor that if you exercise under a strongwood tree, you get very strong. And there’s a man named Mickel in Horseshoe Bend, probably about your parents’ age, who claims that’s the source of his strength. His muscles are rumored to be massive and he wins the hog tossing contests every year.”

  “Hog tossing?” What a strange sport.

  “Then again, he’s also the local blacksmith. So it could just be years of pounding metal that made him so strong.” Mara giggled, passed Ezaara the parchment and left.

  So tharuks had withdrawn from attacking villages? And Giant John thought it was the lull before the storm. Late into the night, Ezaara contemplated where Roberto was, what Zens could do with the missing ring, and where and how that storm could strike.

  Red Guards

  Dawn rose, its gentle rays filtering through the last of the trees. The foliage’s soft whispers caressed Leah’s ears as she awoke. Leah and Taliesin wandered wearily out of Great Spanglewood Forest onto a vast snowy plain, squinting. Leah wrinkled her nose against a rotting stench. Huge mounds of red earth had been dug up and heaped on the snow.

  The earthen mounds were oddly shaped. As they walked toward the nearest, Leah gasped. Oh gods, these were not mounds of earth. Dead red dragons were scattered over the plain. The stench was their rotting flesh.

  Leah hunched over, retching until her stomach was empty. She spat into the snow, trying to clear the bitter bile from her stomach. Taliesin shook, whimpering. Feet numb with cold and hearts numb with horror, they wandered through the snow. Here, a dragon’s wings were hacked off, bloody stumps leaking lifeblood into the snow. Another dragon’s throat had been ripped out. More had their guts slit open, spilling entrails. Some dragons were charred, their scales more black than ruby.

  Such terrible, senseless waste.

  Salt bit into Leah’s cheeks as tears streamed down her face. As far as she could see, the snow was studded with dead dragons.

  “What’s that?” Taliesin pointed.

  No! In the middle of the plain stood a grove of trees, blackened and charred.

  Leah’s gut twisted as if tharuks were clawing it. Shadow dragons had been here. They were too late. She sank to her knees, her body heavy. Oh gods, not the piaua trees.

  “Come on, Leah.” Taliesin squeezed her hand with a strength that surprised Leah. “We didn’t come this far just to give up,” he said fiercely. “A drop of piaua goes a long way. That grove. We might be able to salvage something.”

  She stood and they strode toward the blackened trees with renewed purpose.

  Wings swished above them. Without daring to look up, Leah and Taliesin ran, cowering behind a bloody dragon tail. Only then did Leah glance skyward. A flash of scarlet caught her eye. Her heart soared with joy. Zens’ monsters hadn’t killed them all.

  The red dragon circled down to land near the trees and let out a low, mourning keen.

  Taliesin sprinted toward it.

  Leah hurried after him.

  Taliesin stopped in front of the dragon. His lake-blue eyes were transfixed on the dragon’s face. Even amid the carnage of its fellow red guards, the dragon’s lips were pulled back, its fangs glinting in a smile. Taliesin was beaming. In the few short weeks she’d known him, he’d never looked so peaceful. The dragon lowered her head, and Taliesin flung his arms around her neck.

  §

  The moment he saw the dragon, Taliesin knew she was special. Those ruby wings winked in the sun, beckoning him. All her fellow dragons, the red guards, were dead. She was the last of her kind—just like he was the last of his family. And as her keening filled the air, ricocheting among the bodies of her fellow guards, it rattled Taliesin’s bones. He had to help her.

  He ran until he was face to face with the majestic creature. His chest filled with a mighty power. His bones and senses hummed. Even his fingertips were tingling.

  And when she turned her enormous gold eyes upon him, her slitted pupils growing, surprise rushed through him, and then love. Love larger than he’d ever remembered feeling. Every one of her scales was glorious—finer than the most beautiful painting. Rushing filled his head, like the flapping of a thousand dragon wings.

  And then she spoke. “Everything I loved has been destroyed. I have nothing—except my broken heart. Will you accept it?”

  How could he? “I’m not worthy. I’m only a slave, rescued from Death Valley, broken, without family.” He tilted his head. “But I do have a new home at Dragons’ Hold. Maybe you could come with me.”

  “I would like that very much indeed. Taliesin, you are worthy to be my new rider. I shall now be named Esina after you.” She lowered herself to her knees.

  A rush of bittersweet sorrow and love hit Taliesin. His heart felt like it would snap. This poor dragon had endured so much.

  “Just as you have,” Esina said.

  She understood. More than anyone else could ever understand, she understood. He’d seen his entire family die at the hands of tharuks in Zens’ slave camp. She’d fought as hers had died around her. Esina lowered her head. He flung his arms around her warm neck. His beautiful ruby dragon tucked her head over his shoulder and a gust of warm air enveloped him.

  §

  Not wanting to disturb Taliesin and his dragon, Leah strode over to the grove. Even though a pall of smoke hung over the charred trees, there were no longer active fires. Burnt branches crunched underfoot. The outer trees were mainly strongwoods. Although she was sad so many trees had been destroyed, she breathed a sigh of relief. Thank the egg it wasn’t the piaua grove. For a moment there, she’d been worried their journey had been for nothing.

  Leah stepped around the remains of a cluster of strongwood trees, blackened but still standing, wearing their ash like dark armor. She walked deeper into the grove. Here, the trees were different.

  She gasped. These were piaua. Thick rings of towering strongwoods had been planted around the precious grove to protect them. Here the piaua were broad, their trunks mature, but—like the strongwoods—they’d been burned. Her chest clenched as Leah laid her palm on the smoky trunk of a dead piaua. Its leaves, which would normally be evergreen, were shriveled and gray. The trunk, as wide as a small cottage, was burned and blackened.

  The crunch of charred branches alerted her to Taliesin and his dragon behind her. “Esina says that a week ago this was a thriving piaua grove, the source of much of the piaua juice in Dragons’ Realm.”

  “Not anymore.” Zens’ monsters had destroyed everything. Leah’s heart was as heavy as rock. One blow, and it would shatter into a thousand pieces. Her eyes swept the burnt grove and the mounds of dead dragon
flesh beyond.

  “I’ve told Esina we’re hunting for piaua juice,” Taliesin said, catching up to her.

  The dragon pushed her way through the dead strongwood trees, knocking them aside with her scaled limbs.

  The crashes reverberated through Leah’s bones. So many mighty trees. So many mighty dragons. All destroyed. She watched Esina bowl another strongwood over, clumsy in her grief. The trunk shattered into lumps of charred wood and set off a flurry of ash.

  Taliesin had said that they hadn’t come all this way for nothing.

  They had to try something. Anything. “Let’s knock a piaua down to see whether there’s anything left at its core—perhaps tiny traces of sap that we could use to treat our injured riders.”

  “It’s worth a try,” Taliesin said dubiously. “Esina?”

  The dragon rumbled. She pushed against the piaua trunk with her flank. The tree gave a dry groan. Esina pushed again, then wrapped her tail around the tree and shook it. Ash floated down, coating Leah’s face, hands, and cloak. Coughing and covering her nose and mouth with her cloak, she breathed through it. Taliesin did the same. His eyes were filled with a light Leah had never seen. At least, if this journey brought nothing else—and Leah was now sure it wouldn’t—she’d helped him find peace.

  Esina stretched up her forelegs and leaned her weight against the charred trunk. Dead cinders floated onto the snow. Branches thumped down and shattered into lumps of char. Cracks appeared in the blackened trunk. The tree split lengthwise and blackened rubble crashed to the ash-stained snow.

  When the ash dust had settled, Leah and Taliesin examined the jagged mast spearing the sky. Leah pressed a hand to the cold heart of the tree. Nothing. No stickiness. No sap. Whatever had existed had been burned clean, destroying one of nature’s most precious resources.

  Leah sank to her knees, resting her forehead against the trunk of the dead piaua. It was useless. They were at the end of the road. There was no way to help her people now.