Gently easing her mind open, Ezaara felt Roberto’s comforting presence. “I’m behind the methimium ray and I’m going in,” she said.
“Good. I’m here if you need me.” His thoughts faded until he was a silent witness in her mind.
Gently probing, Ezaara slipped inside Giddi’s head.
§
When Ezaara slipped into Giddi’s mind, Zens’ dark shadows were roiling across Giddi’s vision as his words slunk through his consciousness. “Come on, Giddi, you can do it,” Zens urged. “Open the portal.”
Zens must mean the world gate.
Ezaara closed her eyes to concentrate. Slumped against the metal box and entirely covered by her mage cloak, she deliberately kept her thoughts tightly under control to escape the commander’s notice.
She let herself wander the corridors of Giddi’s mind. Something bathed in gold flickered in a corner. Ezaara crept closer. A woman’s face. Accompanying it was a love so fierce and bittersweet it made Ezaara’s chest ache. Even though she’d never seen her, Ezaara knew it was Mazyka.
“Now, Giddi,” Zens commanded. Zens’ dark energy stretched Giddi’s arms higher.
She felt sathir swarm from the center of Giddi’s being and flow along his arms and out his fingers into the methimium beam. She opened her eyes. Above the forest, a volley of green mage flame licked up the beam of golden light.
It was happening. Whatever Zens’ reason, Giddi was opening the world gate. But was Zens in control or Giddi? Perhaps some small remnant of him remained, calling out for help.
Zens’ excitement ran through Master Giddi’s thoughts. Metal-clad figures were shooting metallic tubes of flame, laying waste to Dragons’ Realm. Lakes were dried mud patches; the skies were empty of dragons. Strangletons choked the rivers, turning them to stinking marshes full of dead fish. The hills were barren. This was the future Zens envisaged.
Ezaara slipped out of Giddi’s head so her shock wouldn’t break through his thoughts. “Roberto, this is a million times worse than what we thought.”
“I know,” said Roberto. “We have to help Giddi stop Zens. I know he’s inside there somewhere or he couldn’t have called us for help.”
“I’m going back in.” Ezaara slipped back inside Giddi’s mind.
§
Giddi tuned in to the sathir around him, surprised when a tendril of silver, like a thread, spiraled from his core, down his limbs, and out his outstretched fingers. The thread wound around the golden beam stretching skyward beyond the flickering green mage flame.
“Giddi, I feel you reaching for me,” Mazyka whispered into that tiny protected corner of his mind.
Another voice whispered too. “We’re here for you, Giddi.” Ezaara, with Roberto. Their combined sathir, his dark-blue flecked with silver, and hers, multi-colored, flooded through him.
He would’ve danced for joy. Except he couldn’t—his limbs were still controlled by Zens. He hoped like egg shards that Zens couldn’t detect Ezaara. If he did, they’d be dead in an instant.
Giddi coiled the flickering sathir, tamping it down until the buzz of magic was like a hive of wild bees under his skin, dying to be set free. He let a tendril escape from his fingers. It shot along the silver thread, pushing it higher along the beam piercing the sky.
“I feel you, Giddi. A little more and I can reach you,” Mazyka encouraged.
Ezaara pushed more sathir at him. Giddi took it, swelling the power until it ran out of his fingers. The silver thread wound higher.
“That’s the way,” Zens’ voice slithered through his head.
Giddi locked down his thoughts, hiding them from the commander.
A tiny crack in the sky appeared, and a thin gold filament slipped through it, winding around the beam and stretching down toward the silver thread.
After nineteen years, they were finally opening the world gate—and Mazyka was still alive on the other side. Seeing his wife again was more than Giddi had dared hope for.
Before Giddi could rejoice, dark mist wafted from Commander Zens’ hands, racing up his silver thread of sathir. By the dragon gods!
Mazyka’s gold thread raced downward.
With a push of Ezaara’s sathir, his silver thread shot up, stretching to meet it…
But the dark shadows were climbing faster, now two-thirds of the way up his silver tendril.
“Mazyka, faster. Ezaara, more.”
The silver had to reach the gold before Zens’ shadows overtook them.
§
Roberto grunted, gritting his teeth, shoving hard, letting his sathir flow into Ezaara so she could feed it to Giddi. A tharuk swung at him and he ducked, his sathir waning. He didn’t have time to fight—the mental battle was more important. He rammed his sword up under the beast’s chin and kicked it aside.
Another tharuk leaped, landing on his back, and Roberto hit the ground with a thud, landing on a dead warrior’s thighs.
Worried his pain would break through the silent witness and alert Zens, he slipped out of Ezaara’s mind. The tharuk’s claws dug into his back. Roberto twisted, ripping his jerkin, and cried out as the creature’s claws gouged his back.
With a roar, Erob dived, plucked the tharuk off him and tossed it into the forest.
Not a moment too soon. The silver thread was shriveling, shrinking back on itself, and dark shadows were gradually consuming it.
Gently, Roberto slipped into Ezaara’s mind, once again connected through her vibrant colorful sathir to Giddi. He gradually built the flow of his sathir, letting Ezaara use it to aid Giddi. The silver thread wound upward along the yellow beam, barely the length of a dragon’s thigh above Zens’ clawing shadows.
§
Ezaara’s head was going to crack open with the pressure building inside it. Roberto had pushed his sathir at her for Giddi, but she couldn’t release it all at once or Zens might detect them and order his tharuks to kill her and Roberto. Without them, Giddi wouldn’t stand a chance against Zens—and Dragons’ Realm would become a wasteland.
Inside Giddi’s head, Zens’ voice was relentlessly bellowing, “Open the gods-forsaken portal.”
Ezaara released more sathir, trying to keep Giddi’s silver tendril above the dark shadows.
Suddenly, Zens skittered into Ezaara’s mind. “So, Ezaara, you’re here too? Two can play at that game.”
“Or three,” Mazyka roared, revealing her presence.
With every particle of sathir she had, Ezaara gave a mighty shove, flooding Giddi’s mind.
The cords in his neck standing out, the dragon mage fell to his knees and screamed.
§
Giddi fell to his knees, screaming, “Mazyka!”
Dark shadows enveloped his mind and shrouded the silver thread, rushing up to meet the gold. He kept Mazyka’s face in his mind and shoved sathir at his silver tendril with every last scrap of his strength. The silver thread shot above the clawing shadows. The world exploded in a flash of light.
A rift appeared in the sky and a golden dragon flew through, a woman with flaming red hair upon her back, screaming at the world. His heart sang. She was home. Mazyka was home again.
Smaller golden dragons poured through after her, ridden by mages with blue light springing from their fingers.
“Mazyka,” Giddi cried hoarsely, spent.
Zens thrust his hands higher. With a surge, the shadows raced up their entwined threads and a dark crack opened in the sky. Metal beings glimmered behind it. A shining metal weapon poked through, blasting flame. A golden dragon dropped from the sky, dead.
Giddi grimaced, battling with Zens to squeeze the dark world gate shut. Ezaara flooded him with sathir, Mazyka too, and Roberto. He poured it all into their bond. Their threads grew thicker, twining around one another to form a golden rope threaded with silver.
Zens shoved at him, thrashing and screaming in his mind. Dark shadows whirled across Giddi’s vision. Voices called at him to sever the rope.
Head swaying from side to side, Giddi s
truggled to his feet. He held out his hands and roared.
Mazyka was strong, steady in his mind. “I’m with you, Giddi, we can do this. Resist the methimium.”
Zens laughed as a metal figure flew through the dark rift, shooting its weapon, felling green, gold, and blue dragons.
The legs of more metal beings poked through the rift. Another dropped down. Its metal body gleaming, it fired at a blue dragon, destroying its wing in a burst of flame. The dragon plummeted, roaring in agony.
The metal being chased it, propelled by some unseen magic, blasting more fire.
“Reverse the flow,” Ezaara called. “Reverse it! Close the world gate.”
Giddi pulled the sathir until it flowed from the gold-and-silver rope into him. Sweat broke out on his forehead, his cheeks. Even his arms were sweating. He ripped off his cloak, his shirt, standing with his torso naked against the world.
Dark tendrils of mist leaked from the methimium arrow wounds in his back, winding around his neck and face.
“Time for you to die, wizardling,” Zens laughed. “You’ve served your purpose.”
The shadows writhed into his nostrils, around his eyes, hissing at him.
Still, he pulled the sathir back inside himself. The crystal teardrop thrummed against Giddi’s skin, growing hotter, burning like a brand on his chest. White light burst from the crystal and swept around the clearing, banishing the shadows. Zens was thrown onto his back. Tharuks and warriors fell to their knees, shielding their eyes.
The light from Giddi’s chest blazed through the sky, hitting the dark rift. The crack closed, the metal beings shut out forever.
Mazyka’s golden dragon swooped upon the remaining metal beings. She blasted them with plumes of blue mage fire. They exploded, metal shards spraying across the forest.
Chase
When the blast of light hit the clearing, everyone had shielded their eyes or fallen to their knees. Despite the burning sensation on his chest, Roberto’s only concern was Ezaara. The box holding the methimium ray had collapsed in a heap of molten metal. She’d been hiding behind it.
“Ezaara?” Roberto scrambled over to the wreckage, feeling around the ground by the remains of the box to find her. If she was unconscious, passed out… Blast those flaming mage cloaks—invisibility, at a time like this!
Around him, tharuks and warriors were rising to their feet and starting to fight again. Gods, any one of them could trample Ezaara.
“Ezaara!” He felt around the ground. Nothing. But he kept searching. He stumbled over something he couldn’t see. Bending, he pulled back something that felt like fabric. A leg appeared, then her boot. He shook her calf. “Ezaara!”
She stirred and sat up, her hood falling from her face and mage cloak spilling open to reveal her rider’s jerkin.
“Thank the Egg you’re all right.” Roberto pulled her into a hug. “Did you black out?”
She took off the mage cloak, bundling it up. “I’m not sure; maybe. My chest is burning.”
“Mine too.”
Ezaara pulled open her jerkin. Above her right breast was a new white scar in the shape of a teardrop.
Roberto pulled his jerkin back too. He had the same burn etched into his chest. “What caused these?”
“It’s the same shape and size as your grandmother Anakisha’s heirloom, the crystal necklace you gave me that helped me mind-meld with you over long distances.”
“But you’re not wearing it.” Roberto frowned. “It was stolen on our hand-fasting holiday.”
Ezaara shrugged. “Bruno gave Zens the ring. I bet he gave him the necklace too. Maybe that’s what Giddi used to open the world gate.”
“Makes sense. There was a light blazing from his chest.”
“That could’ve been the crystal. Maybe it’s the key to the world gate.”
Roberto helped her to her feet.
Zaarusha and Erob swooped, breathing flame at the tharuks. Fenni and Jael were still lobbing fireballs into tharuk troops. A shriek of jubilation rang above the clearing as Riona dived. Kierion punched the air with his fist and hollered again. Above him, golden dragons swooped and flamed dark dragons. A woman with flowing red hair rode the largest gold, her fingertips thrusting blue mage fire at Zens’ creatures. Giddi was standing , arms outstretched, his face painted with joy, staring at her while dark vapors hissed out of the wounds in his back.
“At last, the tide is turning,” Roberto melded. “Thanks to you and Giddi.”
“And you.” Casting about, Ezaara frowned. “Where’s Zens?”
An enormous shadow dragon swooped down to the clearing. Commander Zens scrambled into the saddle. The dragon shot off toward the forest.
No. Not after all he’d done. “Zens mustn’t get away,” Roberto snapped. “Erob, let’s hunt down that murderer and finish him off.”
“My pleasure.” Erob thudded to the ground, Zaarusha on his tail.
Roberto and Ezaara sprang into their saddles, and their dragons leaped into the sky, speeding after Zens.
§
With their mighty wingspans, their royal dragons caught up to Zens’ shadow dragon quickly. Erob lashed out with his talons, tearing a strip of wing tissue from the dark dragon. The dragon pulled away, ascending. Zaarusha stretched her neck and belched a cloud of flame, her rumble resonating against Ezaara’s thighs. Smoke billowed from the shadow dragon’s burning tattered wing. It roared and bellowed, its screeches ricocheting through Ezaara’s head.
Zens’ dragon listed, and it sank toward the forest. Its belly raked by foliage and high branches, it crashed through the trees and landed in a river. Leaning over, the dragon doused its burning wing in the water. Zens snatched a whip from his belt. He lashed the dragon, but it moaned and sank deeper into the river. He drove the whip into its flesh, scoring deep gashes in the dragon’s haunch, but the dragon refused to move.
“Our headbands,” Ezaara mind-melded. Gods, they couldn’t forget those. “Otherwise Zens could kill us with his mind.”
“Good idea. Ezaara, whatever happens, I must avenge my family.”
“And everyone else in Dragons’ Realm,” she replied.
“I want to kill him myself,” Roberto replied grimly. He fastened his headband.
As Zaarusha descended, Ezaara donned her headband too. It was strange having silence in her head after the screams, roars and constant stream of thoughts from Master Giddi, Zens, and Roberto. Almost peaceful.
Zaarusha landed on the riverbank.
The dragon turned, yellow beams slicing toward Ezaara, but Zaarusha ducked and moved out of range. Zens slipped out of his saddle into chest-deep water and waded to the far bank. Erob landed there, trapping Zens and driving him back against a cliff with a jet of flame.
Roberto dismounted and strode to meet Zens.
Zens laughed, a cold sound that made ice skitter along Ezaara’s scalp. Grunts, snorts and the fetid stench of tharuk wafted from the burnt foliage beyond the river. Furry, tusked monsters rushed from the trees, claws out and beady red eyes gleaming as they eyed Roberto.
“Look out, Roberto,” Ezaara yelled. He hadn’t heard her, hadn’t seen them. And they couldn’t meld.
She jumped off Zaarusha and raced over an icy log that spanned the river upstream from Roberto. When she was halfway across, a thick tendril whipped out from the water and wrapped itself around her ankle. It tugged. Gods, a strangleton. It’d haul her underwater, suffocate her and devour her. She slashed at the slimy brown tendril, but it tightened its grip and yanked her foot. Ezaara slipped and fell on the log. She thrust out a hand, landing on one knee. She hacked again. Green gunge oozing from the strangleton’s half-cut tendril, the plant pulled her foot off the edge of the log and out over the river.
Tharuks were snarling, racing for Roberto.
Ezaara gave the strangleton one last whack, just missing her ankle. The tendril released, thrashing into the water.
Breath shuddering and legs shaky, she scrambled across the log and leaped onto the riv
erbank to face a tharuk troop leader.
Already battle-weary and exhausted, she swung her sword at its throat, spilling its dark blood on the ground. More tharuks replaced it. She swung again. With a thud that made the ground shudder, Erob landed near her and sprang into the tharuk troop, ripping their bodies apart with his teeth and talons. Fur and black blood showered the riverbank.
Still more beasts charged from the forest. Erob blasted them with a wall of hot orange fire.
Among the roars, snarls, and crackling flame, Zens was laughing.
He’d summoned these beasts. Even though Master Giddi had opened a world gate and a new band of dragons and mages were here to help them, Zens still had his army under his mental command.
A gust of heat rose at Ezaara’s back. She spun.
Zens’ dark dragon advanced across the river, hissing flame, boulders rumbling beneath its feet. Erob now at her back destroying tharuks, Ezaara held her sword high and faced the beast.
Beams sprang from its eyes, hitting her sword arm. Her jerkin sleeve flew open, revealing a deep gash. Ezaara’s sword clattered to the stony riverbank. The beast advanced, a feral smile splitting its maw. It lunged for her.
A roar rent the air. The dragon jerked back on its haunches.
Heart pounding and breath short, Ezaara stared as Zaarusha dragged the dragon back across the river, her jaws clamped around the beast’s tail. The beast’s feral grin turned into an agonized grimace as it stretched its neck skyward and bellowed. Zaarusha pounced on its back and shredded the beast’s hide with her talons, blasting its head with flame.
Transfixed in horror, Ezaara stared as the shadow dragon’s skin melted from its skull, chunks of its flesh falling into the river. Hundreds of slimy strangleton tendrils snatched the pieces of dragon flesh and hauled them under the water to devour them.
Riders of Fire Complete Series Box Set books 1-6: YA Epic Fantasy Dragon Rider Adventures Page 150
