“Careful there, Adelina.” Danion spoke softly, crouching beside her. “Don’t move now, but be aware that you’re gripping the edge of that ledge mighty hard. When you let go, you might send stones down on them. I don’t want either of them to be startled.”
“Oh.” She glanced at her fists, then at him.
He angled his body to hold his hands in the air under hers. “Let go now.”
Some pebbles came loose from the rock. Danion caught them and straightened, casting them into the tunnel behind them. “How about you shuffle back so I can help Kierion into the cave? He looks pretty tired.”
Adelina wriggled back a pace or two, glad someone stronger and bigger than her could help. She was so tiny, if Kierion fell, he’d take her with him.
Kierion’s panting was audible before his head appeared.
Danion called, “Look out, Roberto.” He grasped hold of Kierion’s arms and yanked him into the cavern. Adelina looked over the edge to see a scatter of loose shale bounce down the cliff. Roberto ducked his head and waited until it passed, then kept climbing.
She spun to Kierion and threw her arms around him. He shuddered, legs trembling and gave her a wan smile. “Those poor sharks missed out on their main course.”
She squeezed him. “I’m glad they did.”
“I only teased them with second-hand ginger and a bit of blood. They’ll probably ask for their coin back.”
“Come on, sit down while we wait for Roberto.” She pulled a soggy length of smoked meat from her pocket. “I’ve been saving this for when you were back on land and could stomach it.”
“Thanks.” Kierion sat down and leaned against the wall. He ripped off a piece of meat with his teeth and groaned. “Oh, this is good. Maybe that’s what the sharks were after.”
“You’re nearly there,” Danion called down to Roberto. “Just a few more handholds.”
Her brother’s grunt was his only reply.
Adelina hung back until Danion heaved her brother into the cavern.
Roberto staggered a step or two.
Adelina flung her arms around his waist and hugged him, murmuring, “I’m so sorry.”
His arms tightened around her and he tucked his chin on her head, the way he had when she was a littling. “It’s all right, ’Lina. I understand.”
§
The moment Roberto released Adelina, Amato was there. The rest of the riders tensed. Fenni instinctively held his hands up, ready to fling mage flame.
“Son, I’m sorry, perhaps I should’ve explained about the cave,” Amato started.
Roberto waved a hand. “It’s all right. We’re all safe and alive.”
“I tried to tell you about it.”
“I said, it’s all right.” Roberto snapped. He took a deep breath. “We’ve made it. Let’s have a short rest before you lead us to Zens.” He deliberately made it sound simple, but this was Death Valley—they’d be walking into a nightmare. “Danion, got anything to eat in that bag of yours?”
Danion shot Roberto a shrewd glance. “As a matter of fact, I have.” He fished around in the rucksack.
As Roberto intended, everyone’s attention turned to Danion. Roberto slumped against the wall next to Kierion, glad to be off his shaking legs. Gods, that climb had really taken it out of him. Not the climb itself, but the scare with the sharks. He leaned in to Kierion, murmuring, “Thank the sharding First Egg those sharks are far behind us.”
“Well, below us, actually,” Kierion quipped, accepting some hardtack, plump figs, and dried apricots from Danion. “Mind you, we could throw them some of this to break their jaws on.” He waved his hardtack in the air, then bit into it. “On second thoughts, that would be a waste. It’s not too bad when it’s soggy.”
Roberto chuckled and chewed his own hardtack.
After that one short climb, they were all exhausted—except Amato and Danion.
Lovina sat next to Tomaaz, her head leaning on his shoulder as they ate. Gret stared out the cavern mouth. Fenni was leaning against the cavern wall a few paces behind her, face wistful. Danion was still rummaging in his rucksack.
Roberto’s gaze flitted to Amato hovering near the back of the tunnel.
Adelina grabbed her food off Danion, then sat against the wall on Kierion’s other side. She leaned over Kierion and whispered, “So, Roberto, who’s going to break the ice with Amato—you or me?”
She didn’t call him Pa either.
Roberto chewed on his hardtack without answering, ashamed of the surge of relief that ran through him as Danion strode to Amato and offered him food, then started discussing strategy, their soft murmurs humming through the cavern.
Death Valley
They’d been walking for hours when Amato froze, holding up a hand. “Tharuks.” His voice was barely a whisper in the stale dry air of the tunnel.
Roberto inhaled. Yes, there was a faint stench of fetid rot. The scrape of everyone’s swords sliding from their scabbards thundered in his ears.
Fenni adjusted the mage light bobbing above them, dimming it until it emitted a faint green glow. They crept forward, putting their weight on the outer edges of their boot soles so they made as little sound as possible.
Soon, light was visible around a corner. Fenni extinguished his mage light.
Danion moved to the front, Roberto at his heels. They peeked around the corner, hanging back in the dark.
A group of tharuks were sprawled on the tunnel floor, leaning against the walls. Some guards these were—although if Amato was right, there hadn’t been an attack for years, so it was no wonder they weren’t on high alert.
Danion nudged him. Motioning the others forward, they rushed the tharuks.
The beasts roared and leaped to their feet, claws out. Danion’s sword swung, hacking through the first tharuk’s neck. The beast’s ugly tusked head bounced along the floor, hitting Roberto’s boot. He leaped over it, landing on blood-slicked stone. Catching his footing, he charged into the midst of the tharuks.
Roberto slashed the belly of a small tharuk. It slumped to the floor, its entrails sliding to the stone. Gret drove her sword into a tharuk’s chest. Its claws raked her side, its last breath rattling. Blood welled through the slice in her jerkin.
“You all right?” Roberto called.
With a quick nod, she spun to an attacking beast.
Adelina plunged her dagger into the back of a tharuk’s thigh, while Kierion drove his sword into its throat. Amato swung his blade at a tharuk’s head. Roberto ducked claws, then drove his sword up into a tharuk’s side. It was chaos. Danion swinging. Fenni blasting the beasts with glowing green mage flame.
Suddenly, the tunnel was quiet, except for their panting and the gurgle of the last dying tharuk.
“I’ll take care of these.” Fenni snapped into action, throwing the tharuks into a pile. “All of you get along the tunnel behind me.”
Roberto marshaled the others deeper into the tunnel.
Fenni turned back the way they’d come. He flung out his hands. Flame blasted from his fingers, engulfing the tharuks and creating a wall of fire that sealed the tunnel behind them.
Roberto wrinkled his nose. By the dragon gods, those beasts stank even worse when they burned.
“Anyone hurt?” Roberto asked.
“I don’t think so,” Danion said. “We were lucky.”
Gret met his eyes. “Just a scratch.”
“Fenni, light, please,” Roberto barked. Light flared at Fenni’s hands. He held them near Gret’s side while Roberto inspected her wound. “Adelina, come and help.”
“Danion, pass your rucksack, I need some supplies.” Adelina fished out some bandages and clean herb. She cleansed and bandaged Gret’s wound, making short work of it. “If only we had piaua, but this will have to do. You all right to continue on?”
Chin up, Gret gave a short nod.
“We’ll help you,” said Danion.
“I will.” Fenni was at her side in an instant, glaring at Danion.
Gret gla
red at them both. “I said I’ll manage.”
The wall of flame died down. Stinking smoke billowed from the bodies.
As much as he hated to address his father directly, Roberto had to. “Amato, how close are we? Will tharuks have heard us fighting? Will they smell the smoke?”
Amato shrugged his bony shoulders. “Depends where the next guards are stationed. I guess we’ll find out.”
The greenish light cast the stark bones of his father’s face into shadow. With his wispy hair and his skin stretched tight over his skull, he looked like a monster.
Roberto turned away, trying not to shudder.
§
They’d crept along Zens’ secret tunnel for hours. Up ahead, beyond Danion, Amato, and Roberto, it was getting lighter. Tomaaz wrinkled his nose at the familiar stench of ripe sewerage creeping down the tunnel and working its way into his nostrils. He was tempted to pinch his nose, but with his bow nocked, his hands were busy. He snorted, trying to clear the stink.
At his side, Lovina wrinkled her nose too. Occasionally, their arms brushed as their group sneaked along the tunnel, weapons at the ready, toward the entrance. They hadn’t encountered any more tharuks. Something must be up. It was unlike Zens to leave any area unguarded.
Sure enough, as he’d suspected, they came out of the tunnel into the latrine area. The memory of that littling drowning in the sewage canal still roiled in his stomach. His inability to save her—or any of the other slaves in Death Valley—ate away at him. No, he couldn’t think like that. He’d saved Lovina from Old Bill, preventing her from having a life of abuse and maltreatment. And he’d managed to get Maazini, Ma, and Taliesin out. He’d always thought he’d come back and save more slaves. There were thousands, all dosed with numlock-laced water to keep them subservient.
Roberto held a hand up just inside the tunnel entrance and halted. He gestured Tomaaz and Lovina forward because they knew Death Valley. Danion and Amato fell back.
Together Tomaaz, Lovina, and Roberto scanned the area—the ramshackle latrines, the long open sewage channels leading into the stinking pond. There was retching in the tunnel behind them. Tomaaz glanced back. Kierion again. Poor guy.
A lone slave stumbled out of a latrine, heading back toward the main valley.
Bowstring still taut, Tomaaz nudged Roberto with an elbow. “Where are all the tharuks and the rest of the slaves?”
Lovina answered, “Something’s happened. Death Valley has never been this quiet.”
Roberto shrugged. “We’d better keep moving. A tharuk troop could round the corner at any moment.” He waved the others forward, and Tomaaz, Lovina, and Roberto led the party past the latrines toward the main valley. “Be careful,” he cautioned. “It could be a trap.”
§
In all his time in Death Valley—a year when he was only twelve summers old as Zens’ protégé, and then his recent stint when he’d been captive—Roberto had never seen Death Valley like this. The hills were still barren, devoid of plant life, and stinking mist still wreathed the mouths of the mines, but it was quiet. No whips cracking. No tharuk snarls or guttural beastly commands. No endless tromping from teams of slaves—because there were no teams, only a few listless slaves lounging, jaws slack and gray eyes dull, against the cliffs and buildings. One limped aimlessly along the valley, staring at his feet.
It was as if Zens had disappeared altogether. Roberto motioned the party forward and they huddled in a group behind a sleeping hut.
“Where is everyone?” Kierion whispered.
“It’s time to find out,” Roberto answered. “You three,” he gestured to Fenni, Danion, and Gret. “Zens has a place where he grows the dragons. It’s usually manned by tharuks, so be careful. I’ll show Fenni where it is.”
He placed his hands upon Fenni’s brow and mind-melded with him, showing him the gaping maw that led into the hillside, the wide passage with a narrow winding side tunnel that went deep into the bowels of the hillside. “Keep following this route until you get to this door.” Roberto showed Fenni the large stone door, how it would slide open with a hiss if he pressed one side.
“This is where Zens grows his dragons.” Roberto shared his memories of the chamber with tanks lining the walls—filled with black dragons, their ragged dark wings undulating in fluid. “We must destroy this chamber.”
“Will do.” Fenni raised his eyebrows. “I know Master Giddi can mind-meld with anyone at will, but I had no idea you could too.”
“Only when I’m touching their foreheads.”
“I guess that’s why you’re the master of mental faculties,” Fenni said.
Roberto’s talent often surprised people. Not many knew that he’d learned everything at the hands of Zens—the man they were now hunting. He’d paid a dear price for those talents. Every time he used them, it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“I’ll check Zens’ lair,” Roberto said. “Amato, Adelina, and Kierion, come with me.”
He turned to Tomaaz and Lovina. “Could you—”
Lovina reached for Tomaaz’s hand. “We’ll stay here and help these slaves,” she said. “Somebody has to. I believe Zens is gone, Roberto. He’s only left the weak and injured. Look at them.”
Although most people taken as slaves weren’t in their prime, the few here now were definitely in bad shape. “Be careful,” Roberto said. “It could be a trap. These mountains are riddled with tunnels. Zens may have withdrawn deeper into the hillside and be hiding in wait.”
“I know,” Tomaaz answered. “Zens used a secret tunnel to ambush me as I was escaping.” He nodded at Roberto. “You be careful. My sister would never forgive me if anything happened to you.”
§
Fenni led the way through the gaping hole in the mountainside. Gret stepped up to his side and walked with him. Danion hung behind, perhaps intentionally. Fenni’s mage light lit the rocky walls as the track sloped down, narrowing as they went. The acrid stench of the mines hit Fenni’s nostrils, making his eyes water.
Gret glanced up at Fenni and gave him a grim smile.
He wrinkled his nose—and not just at the smell. “I’ve been a regular donkey, haven’t I?”
Gret shrugged.
She wasn’t making this any easier, but he guessed he deserved it. “Well, you can’t blame me. It looked like you enjoyed his attention.” Oh shards! His big mouth.
Gret gave him a glance. “Maybe I did. It certainly beats talking to you when you’re so snarky.” She hung back. “I’ll just wait for Danion to catch up.”
Fenni strode deeper into the bowels of the mountainside.
§
Lovina and Tomaaz herded the slaves into a sleeping hut where it was easier to tend them. Here, they’d be hidden if Zens and his tharuks attacked. There were around a hundred slaves, all injured or unwell—as she’d suspected. Lovina tugged the thread hidden in the hem of her jerkin. Dried orange clear-mind berries appeared, threaded like beads on a necklace. “Thank the First Egg we have so many clear-mind berries.” She kept pulling until she had a handful of berries, then bent, giving a berry to a slave with a gash on his arm, and then another to a young littling who was so thin his ribs poked against his saggy shirt. She dispensed the berries, tugging the thread whenever she needed more, until every slave had eaten one.
“Let me look at your leg,” Tomaaz addressed a slave with a festering gash. He opened the healer’s pouch at his waist to find a needle and twine.
“I’ll try to find them something to eat,” Lovina said to him. The rations in their rucksack were pitifully low. She beheld these people’s faces: their jaws, slack; eyes vacant and unseeing. Is this how she’d looked all those years as Bill’s slave? She must have. A shadow of her true self. Something sharp twisted in her belly. These people were only a tiny fraction of the number that had been in Death Valley. Where were the others? Her chest grew tight. If Zens had killed them all...
Tomaaz gazed up at her, his green eyes steady. He squeezed her hand. “One step at a ti
me, Lovina. We’ll get there.”
“I’ll search for some bread.” She walked along the deserted valley into the cooking hut, where she’d often prepared food as a slave. Her memories were dim and hazy. This small hut had loomed much larger in her mind when she was numlocked and regularly beaten by tharuks. The hearths were cold. Large tubs held stale bread, ripped into chunks. Lovina picked up pieces, sniffing them.
No numlock. That was a start. This tough stale bread and thin gruel filled with weevils and bugs was all she’d eaten for the years that she lived here. If it hadn’t been for 274, the tharuk overseer who’d enjoyed her art, and prevented her from beatings so she could draw animals, she wouldn’t have survived. It was strange that she owed her life to a tharuk. She picked up a pail and filled it at the pump outside, amazed at how light it felt now that she was stronger. Then she grabbed the handle on a large bread tub and took the bread and water back to the sleeping hut.
Tomaaz had his head bent over a woman’s lacerated back, hands busy treating her infected lash marks. Lovina shivered. It had not been so long ago that he’d healed hers. The slaves sat there staring at him, most still too dazed to speak.
Lovina dispensed water and bread to the waiting slaves—no, not slaves, people. Her people of Dragons’ Realm.
“Tomaaz, we have to find the rest and save them too.”
Tomaaz met her gaze. “I know,” he said, his mouth grim.
§
Before Roberto confronted Zens he wanted to make sure they had a means of escape. “Erob, are you around?”
“So you’ve made it to Death Valley. Welcome.”
“We’re just north of the latrines, past a sleeping hut,” Roberto replied. “Where are you?”
“Just keep walking.”
Around the next corner, dark-blue, purple, sky-blue, red, green, and orange wings glinted in the sunlight as Erob, Riona, Linaia, Hagret, Matotoi, Ajeurina, Maazini and Danion’s blue swooped over the Terramites, stretching their wings in the sun. In a blaze of flame, they incinerated the tharuk guards and their lookout. “Now they’re taken care of, we can land,” Erob said.
His midnight-blue dragon thudded to the floor of the arid valley, sending up a puff of dust. He wrinkled his snout. “I’d forgotten about the stench.”
Riders of Fire Complete Series Box Set books 1-6: YA Epic Fantasy Dragon Rider Adventures Page 138
