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

by Eileen Mueller

  She nocked her arrow and shot a fake mage in the throat. Liesar spun to avoid the slicing rays from its dragon’s eyes. Liesar shot through the sky, a flash of silver lightning, spearing a dark dragon’s belly with her flame.

  The tiredness Marlies had been feeling for weeks dissipated as her blood sang in the thrall of battle. She reached for an arrow from her quiver. Only two left.

  As a healer, she hated bloodshed, but this is what she’d been born to. Healing her friends, and killing their enemies. Fighting to protect Dragons’ Realm.

  From the corner of her eye, she caught a multi-hued flash amid a cloud of black, and turned.

  Her daughter was surrounded by dark dragons. “Liesar, to Ezaara’s aid!”

  Liesar angled down, blasting two more dark dragons on the way.

  One of Marlies’ two remaining arrows took out a mage that had been aiming for Ezaara. The other, she embedded in the belly of a dark dragon. The beast fell, momentarily blocking her view of her daughter. Then the blood in Marlies’ veins turned to ice.

  A mage flung a plume of mage fire directly at Ezaara’s back.

  One moment, Marlies was screaming from Liesar’s saddle. The next, she’d leaped and was flying through the air into the path of that mage’s fire. “Hans, I love you. Tell Tomaaz and Ezaara I love them too.”

  §

  A streak of silver shot through the sky. Ezaara turned, grasping for an arrow, but she was too late. Mage fire was roiling through the air toward her. A woman’s body flew through the air, dark hair streaming.

  Mage fire slammed into Ma’s stomach. Catching, it roared over her body until she was a pillar of bright fire, whistling through the air.

  “Ma! Ma!” Ezaara screamed. “Zaarusha! No, not Ma.”

  Zaarusha roared, diving after Marlies. Liesar dived too, the dragons nearly colliding in their quest to snatch Marlies’ burning body.

  It was too late. The towering pillar of green mage fire flared in the sky and then snuffed out, ashes swirling in the wind from the dragons’ wingbeats.

  Her mother was gone. The mother who’d given her life, who’d spent her own life in hiding in Lush Valley to protect them. The mother who’d forsaken her identity for the sake of her twins. The mother who’d loved her with fierceness. And healed others with unbounded compassion.

  Ezaara’s throat squeezed shut. She gasped for breath. Hooking her bow over Zaarusha’s spinal ridge, she held her hands to her chest to ease the squeezing pain. She was going to break, fly into a thousand pieces if she didn’t do something.

  Letting out a mighty scream of rage, she cried, “This is for my mother.” She snatched up her bow.

  §

  As Marlies’ ashes rippled on the wind from her wingbeats, scattering over snarling dragons, Liesar threw back her head and howled. Her mourning cry shattered through the roars of the shadow dragons. But she didn’t care, her rider was gone.

  Far below, skimming the treetops, her mate Handel twined up through the fighting dragons to join her.

  Together they would rip apart these beasts as vengeance for the rider she had missed for eighteen years—and only had back for these few short moons.

  Liesar howled again, allowing herself a moment longer for her grief.

  And then, flaming dragons left and right, Liesar and Handel speared through the fighting masses to hunt down the beast and mage that had killed Marlies.

  §

  Beside Giant John, Benno swung his sword, his mighty arms flexing as he hewed a tharuk’s legs out from under it. Giant John was drenched in blood, but he didn’t stop. Whether the blood was from the dragons above, the tharuks before him, or his own men beside him, it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was killing the next tharuk. And the next.

  These beasts had roamed Dragons’ Realm too long. It was time to end them.

  Far off to his left, Mickel’s cry rang out, “Incoming.”

  Giant John spun.

  He and Mickel had been separated, a few warriors between them scrambling to hold the line. But the line had just disintegrated as a fresh troop of tharuks—vigorous, swift and strong—came crashing through the undergrowth toward them.

  This flaming carnage would never end. There was little hope. Dark beasts blotted the sky, outnumbering their own dragons. And here, down in Spanglewood Forest near Mage Gate, tharuks outnumbered the men.

  Gritting his teeth, Giant John ran to meet the new beasts and plunged his sword into the troop leader’s side, aiming up under its breastplate. All that mattered was killing the next tharuk.

  And then the next.

  And the next.

  §

  Giddi remained with his hand clenched in a fist over his heart, unmoving, awaiting Zens’ instructions. Beneath his hand, the teardrop crystal under his clothing radiated warmth into his fingers and palm. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and focused.

  Mazyka’s face swam into his mind, shimmering as if it were at the bottom of a deep pool. Her voice reached him, as if from far underwater. “Giddi, I am with you. I always was.” Her face was just as beautiful as it had always been—with those luscious lips, large dark eyes and that flaming red hair. She smiled. He noted the shadows beneath her cheekbones and tiny creases at the corners of her eyes. She had aged too, gracefully.

  “Has the other world been kind to you?”

  “I’ve missed you terribly, my love.” Her words were double-edged, laced with pain.

  He’d banished her, not knowing how to save the realm, not knowing that his efforts had been too little, too late. And now, he was too late again. Zens would force him to open the world gate, then let his metal men sweep through the gate with their blasting weapons to obliterate Dragons’ Realm.

  Giddi’s eyes stung, but no tears came. If he couldn’t protect this world, perhaps it was just as well that it would be destroyed.

  “No,” Mazyka cried.

  The dark shadows swirled and eddied, covering Mazyka’s face and drowning out her voice. “Yes,” the shadows said. “You must help Zens destroy this pathetic world.”

  §

  Giant John, Benno, and Mickel were side by side again, fighting to stem the endless tide of tharuks. It was no good. More kept coming.

  At the edge of the forest, Giant John spied a boy with dark hair and deep-blue eyes. He wanted to yell at the boy to flee, but that would only draw the tharuks’ attention to the lad. The boy raised his hands, lips moving. Tiny sparkles of light shot from the trees, swirling around the boy’s legs and over his torso.

  “Spangles,” Giant John called to Benno, in wonder. “I’ve heard of them, but never actually seen them.” Hope surged in his heart.

  Suddenly, the earth around the boy seemed to move, teeming with life. Beetles crawled out of the ground and swarmed the tharuks’ legs. The beasts batted at them. The trees seemed to ripple as squirrels scampered down from their trees and raced toward the boy. He thrust his hand outward, glimmering light streaming toward the tharuks—and the squirrels followed, attacking the monsters, climbing up their bodies and biting their arms and legs.

  Everywhere the boy’s light touched, nature awoke. Foxes crawled from holes, racing toward the tharuks. One opened its jaws, fastening upon a beast’s leg. Another leaped, aiming for a tharuk’s throat.

  Tharuks faltered, swiping their claws at the creatures.

  A pack of wolves howled and raced for the tharuks. More beetles poured out of the ground, swarming Zens’ monsters. Dark furry forms as large as dinner plates scurried from their homes under loose bark in trees. Gargantula spiders swarmed the tharuks and bit into the monster’s limbs, injecting venom with their fangs.

  A tharuk lashed out with its claws, ripping a fox’s belly open. The woodland creature dropped dead at its feet. “Kill them!” the tharuk bellowed.

  Zens’ monsters leaped into action, slashing squirrels and foxes with their tusks and claws. They crushed the gargantulas underfoot, splattering their insides on the snow.

 
Mickel and Giant John pressed forward with a handful of men, hacking, hewing and doing their best to kill the tharuks. Even more tharuks poured through the forest, stomping on beetles, firing arrows at wolves.

  The boy still stood there, light swirling around him, calling nature to fight. More spangles glittered amongst the trees. Their branches swayed, knocking tharuks down. But the stinking beasts soon scrambled back up, charging toward Giant John and his band of warriors.

  Hope Dashed

  Grief still a ragged hole in her chest, Ezaara had replenished her arrows and was back in the sky, shooting dark dragons. There were so many—too many to kill them all. Roberto and Erob hadn’t left her side, flying alongside Zaarusha, staying melded every step of the way. She shot an arrow into the breast of a mage and nocked another. Her arrow hit a dark dragon’s eye. The dark dragon’s screams ricocheted through her head, but were drowned out by her own roar of grief and pain.

  She nocked her bow again and fired, downing dark dragons as fast as she could—aiming arrows between their eyes, into their hearts, through their maws. Anything to assuage her grief at losing her mother, her people, and probably Dragons’ Realm.

  Zaarusha blasted flame at shadow dragons and shredded their wings to tatters with her talons. Shrieking beasts plunged to the forest below. Erob did the same. Roberto’s arrows zipped on the wind, burying themselves deep in the flesh of their foes.

  “Oh no, not more dark dragons,” Roberto melded.

  Ezaara had seldom heard such despair in Roberto’s thoughts—but then again, he’d only just found and lost his father. She glanced up and gasped. Dark specks converged on the horizon—yet more shadow dragons were flying for them. Not as many as they were fighting now, but still a sizable wing. “So that’s what you meant.”

  “I just want this to be over.”

  As they fought on, the new wing of dragons flew nearer.

  “Roberto, we’re wrong.” The roar in Ezaara’s head died. Her world went still for a moment. “They’re not dark dragons.”

  The dragons were all varieties of green and blue: aqua, turquoise, jade, cobalt, lapis, emerald, and moss. Their wings were tinged with flecks of silver, glimmering in the sunlight like rays of hope sparkling upon a vast sea. Riding each dragon was a woman with dark skin, clothed in orange.

  “Zaarusha, Roberto, Erob,” Ezaara melded, “it’s Ithsar and the silent assassins.”

  Ithsar’s dragon was jade, sparkling with silver like the ocean.

  The deep timbre of Roberto’s thoughts was tinged with happiness as he replied, “Yes, and they’re riding sea dragons.”

  “And look.” Behind them were green guards, riding their valiant emerald dragons. “The green guards from Naobia are here too.”

  §

  Straight ahead, Ithsar saw the landscape as she’d seen it in her vision: a winter forest sprawled before her, patches of snow in dark shadows and grass peeking through in the sunlit clearing. And there was the metal chest she’d seen with the strange yellow beam of light jutting from it. Above it all, spread like a giant awning above an oasis, was a legion of foul beasts spitting fire and shooting yellow beams from their eyes.

  The Naobian green dragons had joined them in the south, flying beside her own Saritha whose jade scales glinted with silver like a brooding sea. Joy thrummed inside Ithsar’s breast, a surging, bucking beast, almost as wild as Saritha.

  Moons before, Roberto and Ezaara had helped her become the new Prophetess—not that they knew that yet. Ezaara—she with the golden hair—had healed her, making her fingers whole, and helped Ithsar discover the power of her sathir. And Roberto had restored her faith that kind men like her father still existed.

  And now she could help them. “Avanta!” Ithsar called, the battle cry of the Sathiri—the Robandi silent assassins.

  Their mighty sea dragons charged into the mass of dark dragons.

  §

  “Erob, there behind Ithsar’s dragon’s left flank.” Roberto loosed an arrow, but it only glanced off the spinal ridge of the dark dragon angling for them.

  With a mighty beat of his wings, Erob lurched forward, gusting flame at the beast.

  But another replaced it, and then another.

  Dragons and riders had rallied when Ithsar’s silent assassins joined them, but now they were exhausted after fleeing then fighting half the night and all day. Now, as day waned, Ithsar’s dragons were flagging too.

  Brown and green dragons darted in and out among Zens’ cloud of black dragons, spurting fire at shadow dragons, then nimbly speeding away.

  Tree trunks seethed with creatures that leaped onto tharuks from above. Someone had rallied the animals to attack the tharuks. Birds flew into dark dragons’ faces, clawing at their eyes. Golden eagles swooped from their craggy nests out over the forest, clawing at dark dragons’ wings. Many had been shot down by mages or ingested in a single bite by a fiery maw, but others bravely fought on.

  Giant John and his warriors bashed their way through hordes of tharuks, leaving casualties and dead in their wake. But now they, too, were exhausted.

  They were doing all they could, but still the dark dragons outnumbered them. His whole life, Roberto had trained for battle, but it wasn’t enough. There were too many foes.

  And what was that strange beam of golden light stabbing through the sky from the clearing? “Erob, let’s take a closer look.”

  Erob swooped lower. Master Giddi was standing in the beam from the methimium ray. Bathed in its golden light, his hand was clasped in a fist over his heart, his head bowed. Beside him stood Zens, grinning.

  Oh gods, the dragon mage was about to unleash his power at Zens’ command.

  Giddi Strikes

  For long hours, Giddi stood in the clearing, watching the battle range around him, seeing mages’ brave and foolhardy actions. Through it all, his people were dying. Trapped in Zens’ mental thrall, he couldn’t do a thing.

  “Yes, you can do something,” the shadows whispered. “Put those foolish mages, dragons and riders out of their misery. Zens has a better plan and you will help him achieve it.”

  The teardrop crystal thrummed underneath his hand. His magic coiled and bucked inside him, prickling under his skin.

  Every moment, Mazyka whispered from the other side of the world gate.

  But the dark shadows wrapped around his mind. “You will obey the commander and use your power to help him.”

  Giddi’s gaze swept over the tharuks fighting his people and slaughtering his mages. “Yes, of course I’ll obey my commander.”

  §

  Without any warning, the dragon fighting Ezaara turned, speeding away from her. A swarm of shadow dragons followed.

  Zaarusha, about to give chase, melded, “They’re all leaving. I wonder what Zens is up to.”

  “Don’t follow them,” Ezaara answered. “We’ll wait and see.”

  More dark dragons and those turned by methimium flew away, leaving the dragons of Dragons’ Realm milling in the air in confusion.

  “I don’t understand why they’re fleeing in different directions,” Erob said.

  “At least it’ll give us respite.” Roberto plucked two apples from Erob’s saddlebags and threw one to Ezaara. He called out to the riders around them, “Replenish your strength. Eat while you can.”

  The riders in the sky around them quickly grabbed bread, dried beef or apples from their saddlebags and slumped over their dragons’ necks to eat.

  “You’re lucky dragons don’t eat that often.” Erob sighed. “Not that an apple would make a difference. A herd of oxen would be more like it.”

  Roberto patted his scaly neck, too tired to laugh.

  About forty dragon lengths away, the shadow dragons stopped fleeing and formed a loose ring, flying around the dragons and riders. The dark beasts chased each other, nose to tail.

  “What are they up to?” Roberto asked.

  Some shot overhead.

  “Oh gods, I bet they’re going to try to herd us s
omewhere.” Roberto tossed his apple aside.

  Sure enough, the ring of dragons swooped inward, growing tighter.

  The dragons above them belched flame.

  “Everyone, fight back!” Ezaara mind melded with all of their still-loyal dragons.

  Blue guards shot out toward the perimeter of the ring, blazing flame. Browns flapped upward, blasting fire at the shadow dragons above. Gradually, the shadow dragons pushed from the north, forcing them toward the yellow methimium beam streaming into the sky above the clearing.

  “Don’t get near those rays,” Ezaara warned everyone. “Break through their circle. Destroy those beasts.”

  Zaarusha rushed at the shadow dragons, Erob alongside her.

  A distant cry came to Ezaara’s mind. “Ezaara. Help me.” Her gaze locked with Roberto’s. Still melded with her, he’d heard it too.

  “That was Master Giddi,” Roberto said.

  Ezaara nodded. Erob and Zaarusha swooped toward the clearing at Mage Gate, but a volley of methimium-tipped arrows shot toward them. Tharuks were battling with warriors in the surrounding bushes, preventing anyone from getting close.

  “Fall back,” Zaarusha trumpeted to Erob.

  Zaarusha and Erob swooped over the trees to land on a small hill with a view of the main clearing. As Ezaara slid to the ground, Roberto dismounted, sword in hand, and ran toward her.

  “Ezaara, you have to go,” Zaarusha melded. “You’re the only one who can meld with Giddi to stop Zens. Take your mage cloak. It may come in handy. We’ll be in the air above you keeping watch. But be careful—I don’t want to lose you.” She nuzzled Ezaara’s shoulder. Ezaara pulled her invisibility cloak from her saddlebag and put it on, leaving the cloak hanging open and the hood undone, so she could still be seen by her friends.

  Erob and Zaarusha took to the sky as Roberto and Ezaara descended the hill, sneaking through the trees, making their way to the clearing. The stench of tharuks clung to Ezaara’s nostrils.

  Fenni and Jael broke through the trees. Master Jael greeted them, clasping their hands.