She grabbed a pillow and tucked it under his knees. “I know it’s painful, but try to relax your muscles so I can see what’s going on.” She felt his forehead and waved away the girl who’d brought feverweed tea. Her hands were gentle, almost tender, as she peeled back his clothing, exposed his wound. Her eyebrows drew down, fine lines wrinkling her forehead as she examined him. “It’s not too deep, but you may already have an infection.” Her eyes grazed his torso. “Not surprising given the amount of blood and ash on you. You were fighting in the thick of battle, weren’t you?”
“You could say that, but I think we all were.” Jael cocked his head. “You’re Mazyka’s daughter, aren’t you?”
She laughed, her eyes lighting up like the ocean splashing in the sun. “I am. Serana’s my name.”
Gritting his teeth, he stretched his hand out to shake hers. “Jael.”
“You’re Naobian.”
He nodded, unable to speak as a dizzy spell hit him. Shards, it was so cold in here. The sweat pebbling his brow made him shiver.
She put something on the bedside table that looked like a leather-bound book, but when she opened it, it was full of sharp metal implements. “This is my medical equipment.” She picked up a long needle with a clear tube on the end.
“What’s that?” he asked, eying it.
“You’ll feel a prick, but it shouldn’t hurt much. It’s an antibiotic which will take your fever down and fight what’s gotten into your body. It’s like sending small warriors into your blood to fight the infection.”
Jael squinted at the sharp needle. It couldn’t hurt worse than his wound. “All right. Send your littling warriors in and get this over with.” He squinted again. There was a hazy glow around Serana, probably caused by the torchlight.
She moved, but the glow remained. No, not the torchlight then. With a jolt, Jael realized he was seeing her sathir. Magic thrummed beneath his skin. Did Serana realize how beautiful she was? Dragon’s teeth! He’d never felt like this before.
§
Serana prepared the syringe. Oh gods, explaining antibiotics and modern medical procedures to a man who’d never heard of an immune system was tricky. The fact that he was handsome, dark-haired, dark-skinned, and dark-eyed with a gaze that spoke of honesty and honor had nothing to do with it. She fastened her tourniquet around his bicep.
“I assume you’re not amputating my arm.”
“No, this will make your veins stand out.”
“So you can send the littling warriors in. I’m relieved you’re not sticking that thing straight into my wound.”
“So am I. Are you all right?”
“A bit dizzy. It’s nothing.”
“That’ll fade as the antibiotics work.” When she injected him, he didn’t flinch, moan, or look away.
His lips twitched into a smile. “Let the battle against my fever begin.” His eyes flitted to one of the male medics who was administering an antibiotic injection to another fevered warrior. “I’m glad you’re my healer, not him. You have gentle hands.”
Her eyes met his. Warmth rushed to her cheeks. Not enough that she’d be noticeably blushing, but enough for her to feel it. She pushed the plunger down.
“That’s an unusual sensation. It’s so cold. What causes that?”
By gods, he was gorgeous—those dark eyes, tanned skin, and thick luscious hair. Her eyes drifted to his lips. She hurriedly glanced down at the syringe. She had to focus.
“So, I’m just wondering how a troop of warriors can fit inside that needle.” He raised an eyebrow, eying it. He obviously had a keen, inquiring mind and a sense of humor. “From what I hear, there are amazing things in Zens’ world. Things that we can’t comprehend.” He gestured at the needle. “I guess this is one of them.”
“There are many things that would seem like strong magic to people here. They’re all perfectly logical if you learn about them, bit by bit.”
“Try me.”
“Right now, you need to heal. Maybe another time.”
His ebony eyes met hers. “That would be nice.”
Hang on—what had she just committed to? Serana laid the syringe aside and swabbed his stomach wound. His lean muscled torso was quite a sight, but she kept her eyes focused on his gash. Interesting. He didn’t wince, shudder, or grit his teeth, even though she could tell from the slight flare of his nostrils that he was in pain.
Brave, then. Perhaps even courageous in battle. “How did you get this gash?”
He shook his head. “Rather silly of me, really. I wounded a shadow dragon. As it was dying, it plummeted past me. I got distracted for a moment and the beams from its eyes did this.” He gestured at his stomach. “It’s not as bad as what happened to Seppi.” He flashed a genuine smile. The effect was dazzling. “I’m lucky, I guess.”
Oh man, she was in deep trouble.
§
There was a thud on the ledge outside Zaarusha’s den. “You have visitors,” Zaarusha mind-melded.
Ezaara’s quilt was so soft, her muscles so tired, she didn’t want to get up.
Roberto’s eyelids fluttered open. He rolled over and kissed her. “Morning.”
“Someone’s here.” Ezaara tugged on her shirt and breeches.
Roberto sat up in bed. Ezaara sighed, her gaze lingering on his tanned muscular chest. “I’d love to relax here all day with you, but there’s work to be done.”
“Come on, sleepyhead. Don’t let these young ones wait all day,” Zaarusha harrumphed impatiently.
“Young ones? I’ll be out right away.”
“I’ll come with you.” Roberto swung out of bed and slipped on his breeches, shirt and boots. He flung a cloak over Ezaara’s shoulders and put his arm around her waist, kissing her hair as they walked out to the ledge.
A beautiful ruby dragon was waiting with Taliesin and Leah in her saddle.
Ezaara rushed to them and squeezed their hands. “Thank you for bringing piaua, for giving us hope.” Her throat choked up and she couldn’t speak.
Leah nodded, wiping her eyes. No doubt thinking of Ma too.
Taliesin gave a lopsided grin. “Meet Esina.” He waved at the ruby’s head.
The dragon snaked down her neck, bowing to Ezaara, Roberto, and Zaarusha. “My honored Queen, Queen’s Rider and Master of Mental Faculties, I am Esina, the last surviving red guard.”
Images flitted through Ezaara and Zaarusha’s minds: shadow dragons swooping through the air with outstretched talons and fiery maws; huge armies of tharuks streaming from forests and rampaging across the plains; methimium-tipped arrows turning the red dragons against one another; yellow eye beams slicing through red dragons’ bellies; blood raining on the ground; and Esina fighting valiantly, but losing her rider—a young woman with blonde hair streaming in the wind—as a shadow dragon plucked her from the saddle and tore her body apart with its talons. They heard bellows of rage as Esina fought harder against great armies of tharuk archers felling dragons with limplocked arrows. She battled tharuks hewing down piaua trees and rampaging through the piaua grove with axes. Finally, Esina fled, chased by a horde of shadow dragons.
“I took refuge in the Northern Alps to heal. When I returned, everybody I knew and loved was gone. Dragon carcasses lay in stinking mounds upon the plain.” A shudder rippled through the ruby dragon. “I am the last survivor of the red guards. I beg forgiveness for outlasting my brethren. Perhaps I, too, should’ve fallen in battle.”
Ezaara flung her arms around the dragon’s neck and nestled her head against her warm scales. “No. Please, don’t feel guilt for surviving. Without you, Taliesin and Leah would never have found piaua juice in the North. You have saved countless lives. As we speak, healers on the battlefields at Mage Gate are treating people, readying them to be brought home by the blue guards. If it weren’t for you, your noble rider Taliesin, and his generous-spirited friend Leah, many more would be dead. Thank the dragon gods, you all survived.”
Esina snuffled Ezaara. The dragon’s warm bre
ath tickled her cheek. Ezaara scratched her eye ridge. “Be at peace.”
Roberto spoke up. “We’re indebted to you, Esina.”
Ezaara nodded. “We are.”
“Thank you, your words mean much to me.”
Leah gestured Ezaara over. “Our Queen’s Rider, we have something special to show you.” Although smoke and blood were smudged on Leah’s face, her eyes were bright with excitement. “We would’ve come sooner, but we were tending the wounded at Mage Gate and helping the blue guards get them onto dragonback.”
“Go on, Leah,” Taliesin urged.
Leah loosened the straps on a rear saddlebag and lifted the flap. Esina settled low on her haunches so Ezaara could reach inside.
Ezaara thrust her hand into the saddlebag. Her fingers brushed against something pliable, then closed around a slender supple stick.
“Take it out.” Leah and Taliesin were grinning.
Ezaara pulled out a small piaua seedling with its roots wrapped in damp cloth. She gasped. “A piaua seedling. Where did you get?”
“From the brown guards.” Taliesin leaned past Leah and pulled out two more seedlings, holding them up. Their slender green leaves weren’t even as long as Ezaara’s little finger. “We have thirty of them. We can go back to get more when we need them. We had much more piaua juice, but tharuks caught us and destroyed it on the way. We were lucky they didn’t search the saddlebags,” he babbled.
Ezaara had never heard that many words come out of Taliesin’s mouth before. When he was a newly-rescued slave boy, it’d taken ages before he’d even spoken.
“Esina said she’s happy to take us any time,” he said.
Leah grinned. “The brown guards would be grateful to have us back. They’ve lost their tree speaker, so we’ll have to visit them regularly so I can harvest piaua juice for them and us, until our trees mature. They have an enormous grove full of saplings, which are kept warm by dragon’s breath so the trees grow, even in the dire northern winter.”
“That’s wonderful news.” Ezaara cradled the seedling against her chest. “You’ve both done a fabulous job. Thank you.”
Leah smiled. “Although we had a difficult journey, I remembered how you healed my little finger and stopped me from dying from limplock. That kept me going. I wanted to share the same hope with others.”
Roberto leaned in and kissed Ezaara’s cheek. “You’ve given so many of us hope, Ezaara. Never forget it.”
Zaarusha rumbled in agreement.
§
Ezaara and Roberto had just sat down to breakfast in their cavern when another thud sounded on the ledge.
“Another visitor,” Zaarusha announced. “I think you’ll want to come out and meet this one in person.”
When Ezaara and Roberto strolled out to the ledge, Ithsar was perched upon a massive jade dragon whose scales shimmered with silver. Her orange robes billowed in the breeze, reminding Ezaara of the Robandi desert sands.
“Ithsar!” Ezaara ran to greet her friend. Ithsar nimbly leaped off her sea dragon and embraced Ezaara. “Thank you, Ithsar. You changed the tide of battle. Your dragons and the Naobian greens helped save us.”
“Before I ever met you, I had a vision of us riding into battle together,” Ithsar said fiercely. “And then again, when my mother captured you.”
Ezaara clasped Ithsar tighter. “I was afraid your mother had killed you, that I’d caused your death. Gods, I’m glad you’re alive.”
Ithsar’s dark eyes flashed. “Ashewar lives no longer. I am now chief prophetess of the Robandi assassins.” She waved her fingers in the air. “And my fingers work again. Thank you. None of that would’ve happened without you, Ezaara, she of the golden hair.”
“How in the Egg’s name did you become prophetess? And how did you meet your beautiful dragon?”
“That’s a long story,” said Ithsar. “Saritha is hungry and needs time to recover from battle.”
“As do you.” Ezaara took Ithsar’s hand. “I suggest Zaarusha takes Saritha hunting and to our lake so she can swim, while you and Roberto and I catch up over breakfast.”
Roberto laughed and embraced Ithsar. “We’d love to hear your tale.”
“That would suit us well. Although she hankers for the sea, Saritha likes your northern lakes.” Ithsar’s white teeth flashed in her tanned face. She adjusted her orange headdress. “And I am famished.”
After the War
One Year Later
Riona’s purple wings glinted with gold shimmers in the bright Naobian sun, a contrast to the aqua ocean glistening below them. Kierion tightened his arms around Adelina’s waist. Although Adelina could’ve chosen to fly on Linaia, they enjoyed snuggling together whenever they flew. He murmured in her ear, “It’s nice to have you here, tucked safely in my arms.”
She grinned against his cheek and swatted his hand. “As if I was all yours,” she replied, twisting around to gaze at him cheekily.
He lowered his head, and she kissed his cheek. Suddenly, he couldn’t help himself. His lips were in her hair, on the back of her smooth neck, and his arms tightened around her tiny waist, pulling her against his chest. “You’re all mine, and I’m greedy. I’m never going to share you with anyone else.”
She laughed, elbowing him in the ribs, and leaned over Riona’s spinal ridge, pointing down at the sea. “Look, there’s a whale.” A fountain of foaming water shot above the sea as a dark shape surfaced. Her voice was full of joy. “The last time I remember seeing one was with my father when I was a littling and he took me for a ride on Matotoi.”
Matotoi, Amato’s trusty dragon, had died in the battle at Mage Gate. It was wonderful to hear Adelina’s voice tinged with joy as she spoke of her father. Occasionally, shadows passed across her face when was she sitting quietly in the evenings and Kierion knew she’d been thinking of her troubled littling years. Yet today she was remembering the joy her father had given her.
“I like it here,” said Kierion. “I’m glad we stayed.”
“I never thought you’d want to settle in Naobia.”
He kissed her again. “It’s your influence,” he said. They’d come down to a seaside cottage for their hand-fasting holiday, but neither of them had wanted to leave. After a fleeting visit back to Dragons’ Hold to pack up their belongings, they’d returned to stay and help the green guards fight smugglers and pirates.
“Are you sure it wasn’t the captain and your great seafaring expedition that convinced you?” Adelina asked, adjusting the pretty gold scarf with scarlet dragons he’d given her on her name day, so long ago.
Kierion groaned. “Sure, I loved the view inside Captain’s chuck bucket. That must be it.”
“Great,” she said. “There might be more where that came from.” She waved a hand at some red-sailed ships cresting the horizon.
“Not the Bloody Cutlasses again!” Kierion groaned.
“I’m afraid so, but they’re a way off so I suggest we enjoy the peace while we can.” Adelina kissed him some more.
§
Two Years Later
“Are you nervous?” Gret asked as she and Fenni crossed the floor to open the front doors.
Oh, flame it! Those stupid sparks were dripping from his fingers again. Fenni grinned. “How could you tell?” he quipped.
Gret just laughed, her blonde hair swinging over her shoulder.
He tilted his head. “When you wear your hair down, I get to see all the beautiful shades of caramel and honey among the blonde. I like it.”
She glared at him.
He laughed. “I love your braids too,” he added hurriedly.
She raised an eyebrow. “Did you know my hair was actually chestnut when I started training at Dragons’ Hold?”
“You’re joking.”
“No, I started washing it with wood ash and vinegar to bring out the blond, back before I met you.”
It was Fenni’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “I’ll love it, no matter what color it is. Any more surprises?”
“Of course I am. It isn’t every day you get to open a Dragon Mage Academy.”
She chuckled. “With an expert swordswoman at your side.”
“That’s the best part,” he murmured. “Our mage riders have to be able to fight too.” He leaned in and kissed her, feeling her smile beneath his lips.
“This place has scrubbed up quite well,” Gret said.
Captain had given them the Brothers’ Arms. Running his eyes over the room, Fenni admired their handiwork. They’d widened the doorway, mounting it with double brass doors, and sanded back the battle-worn scratched tables, polishing them with oil until they gleamed. Parchment and inkwells sat on the tables, not that they anticipated the mages would be taking many notes. And the rooms upstairs and out the back had been converted into dormitories or smaller classrooms.
Now their academy was due to open.
“Come on,” said Gret. “Let’s show the people. The streets of Montanara are humming with excitement.”
Fenni grinned.
They took each other’s hands, strode to the double brass doors, and flung them open. Fenni and Gret stood at the top of the stairs, gazing down to the crowded cobbled street on the corner of Nightshade Alley.
“Welcome to the Dragon Mage Academy of Dragons’ Realm,” Fenni boomed. He thrust out his hands and sent bouquets of green-flamed flowers cascading over the crowd.
People roared and shoved, pushing to clamber up the stairs.
Gret turned to him and kissed his cheek. “I told you there was nothing to be nervous about.”
Fenni grinned again and ushered their eager new students inside.
§
Four Years Later
As the sun rose over Death Valley, Tomaaz kissed Lovina on the cheek and rolled out of bed. He padded to the window overlooking the glorious view. The once-barren hillsides had been replanted, the young saplings now showing the lush green growth of spring.
Riders of Fire Complete Series Box Set books 1-6: YA Epic Fantasy Dragon Rider Adventures Page 154
