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

by Eileen Mueller

  Something so dainty in battle? Ithsar shook her head. “No, it’s all right, thanks. I was just looking.”

  Ithsar’s mouth watered as they followed Stefan past a boar spit-roasting over an open fire, but it soon stopped watering when she spied a man with a massive cleaver chopping the heads off fish. Mages were selling sticks that shot pretty colored stars into the air. Littlings parted with their coppers with glee, waving the sticks as green and yellow stars exploded from them.

  “What are those?” Nila asked. “They look like fun.”

  “Fire sticks. I loved them as a littling,” Stefan replied. His tone made it clear the pretty stars were only for youngsters.

  A shame—Ithsar would’ve liked to try using one.

  Minstrels were singing, a flute, shakers, and drums accompanying their pretty voices. After the silence of the oasis, with only the hissing of wind on the desert sands, Ithsar was tempted to block her ears. But she didn’t want to seem rude, so she smiled as Stefan pulled her through the throng.

  A woman holding a basket of buns jostled her, then a burly man bumped her. “Sorry.” He looked down at her. “I didn’t see you down there.”

  True, she was shorter than most of these people, but couldn’t they watch where they were going?

  Misha nudged her and grimaced.

  Nila turned to them, her face radiant. “Oh, isn’t it wonderful?” She squeezed their hands. “My father used to bring me here when I was a littling. I loved it. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to the bustle.”

  Stefan’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t have a market out in the desert?”

  Only the type where Ashewar had killed people and helped herself to their wares.

  “There is one in the Robandi capital to the south,” Nila answered quickly. “But our former chief prophetess only took her personal guard there.”

  “And none of you were in that guard?” Stefan quirked an eyebrow, staring at Ithsar. “Just how long have you been chief prophetess?” he asked her.

  “About as long as you’ve been a dragon rider,” she admitted.

  He threw back his head and laughed. “I should’ve guessed.” He flung an arm out at the marketplace. “It must be a shock to see so many people in one place.”

  “It is a bit,” Ithsar admitted.

  “Definitely.” Misha gave a tight-lipped nod.

  He smiled again. “Don’t worry, we’re nearly there. It’ll be worth it, I promise.”

  Behind his back, Misha rolled her eyes.

  “You’d think he was putting you two through torture.” Nila giggled. “Come on, enjoy yourselves.”

  This time, Stefan took Ithsar by the elbow, making sure no one jostled her as he escorted her through the crowd. A delicious aroma danced across Ithsar’s tongue, tickling her taste buds and making her mouth water. Something she’d never smelled nor tasted before.

  “Come with me.” Stefan led her past a table of pretty hand-painted scarves to a stand piled high with little brown and white shapes.

  Ithsar flared her nostrils, inhaling. So, this was the source of that mouth-watering aroma.

  Stefan raised an eyebrow. “They taste even better than they smell. Your tongue will be in paradise.”

  Ithsar, Misha, and Nila shot glances at each other, but none of them were brave enough to ask exactly what this stuff was.

  Stefan haggled with the woman behind the stall, speaking so rapidly and with such a strong Naobian accent that Ithsar couldn’t keep up. He flipped the woman a silver and flashed them yet another smile. “You may each take four pieces of any shape or flavor. This one’s the best.” He plucked up a brown swirl shaped like a snail’s shell and broke it open. A dark gooey substance ran out, revealing a nut in the middle. “It’s called chocolate. See, this type has hazelnuts inside.” Stefan tossed it into his mouth and licked his fingers.

  The aroma hit Ithsar with full force. She couldn’t stop salivating, so she picked one up too—a tiny white block with a yellow spiral of lemon rind on top. Ithsar popped the chocolate into her mouth… and couldn’t help the groan that escaped her.

  “That was lemon,” Stefan said. “The rest are just as good, too.” He swept his hand in a flourish. “Help yourself.”

  Misha’s eyes flew wide as she tried an orange-flavored one.

  Nila squealed as she bit into a dark mint chocolate, then groaned and rolled her eyes. “I’ll never be able to eat another thing in my life. I have to move to Naobia and eat these every day.”

  A ceramic bowl full of chocolates with green leaves caught Ithsar’s eye. “What are these like?” she asked shyly.

  Stefan’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, you’ll love those. They’re a little different, but you should try one.”

  When Ithsar bit into the leafy chocolate, her mouth was flooded with juicy sweetness. The inside was succulent, pink, fleshy, and delicious. Her tongue truly was in paradise. “This tastes like fruit, but one I’ve never had before. What is it?”

  “That, my dear Chief Prophetess, is a strawberry ripened under the warm Naobian sun and dipped in chocolate.” Stefan bowed. “I promised my treat would be worth putting up with the bustle of the marketplace.”

  Ithsar laughed, nearly as loud as Nila. “You did. And this is worth it. Do you mind if I have another one?”

  He stopped smiling, his eyes serious. “Can you forgive me for my blunder this morning?”

  It was Ithsar’s turn to grin. “For chocolate, I’d forgive anything.”

  §

  The rustle of wingbeats filled the air as Saritha shot over Naobia, trailed by sea dragons and green guards, on the journey north to join Ezaara and wage war against the shadow dragons. The vibrant, writhing mass of green wings and the pearlescent silver-shot jade and turquoise of the sea dragons merged to create a wild, rippling mosaic that flashed in the sun. Saddles creaked and dragons snorted. The breeze from their wingbeats stirred Ithsar’s hair and headscarf. She’d never imagined anything this wondrous. The land was so green, studded with pockets of color—orchards, crops, and tiny settlements of houses. The air swirled with currents and snatches of exotic smells—the briny sea, the tang of fish drying along the coast, freshly turned earth, smoke from hearths, and orchards full of fruit.

  The sun dipped, setting the sky on fire. Ithsar gasped as the golden light danced along the dragons’ scales, making them look like burnished shimmering gold.

  She gave a happy sigh. Everywhere here, people were living in harmony with one another. In the city, she’d seen beggars, but also people giving them coin. And others laughing, being joyous and celebrating their lives with open smiles or friendly hugs.

  Her heart ached to feel that same love and acceptance.

  “You have me,” Saritha hummed. “And Misha and Nila. And now you have a new friend. It will take time to unlearn the mistrust Ashewar caused in your heart.”

  Stefan waved from Fangora’s back, then swooped to call out to Nila. The assassin tipped back her head and laughed.

  Now loosed from the shackles she’d grown up with, Ithsar knew how Nila felt. Her newfound sense of freedom surged through her veins, making her want to fly harder, faster, higher. But not now, not all at once. Bit by bit, she would forge a new life for her people.

  “We certainly will,” Saritha replied, “but first we must fight this war.”

  Ithsar’s senses reeled as a vision flashed into her mind.

  A seething mass of darkness blotted out the sky.

  With a start, Ithsar recognized the massive dark dragons as the shadow dragons Ezaara had mentioned in her message.

  Plumes of flame shot down onto a village as people fled, screaming. The dark cloud broke up as shadow dragons descended, blasting more flame. Ithsar gasped. There were only four valiant dragons defending this whole settlement against hundreds of shadow dragons.

  A beautiful silver dragon with a tall, dark-haired rider shot arrows with a fierce precision that would make any Robandi assassin proud. Her arrows pierced the eyes and skul
ls of shadow dragons, who plummeted from the sky, shrieking. A sickly dragon with insipid pale-green scales swooped and blasted a horde of tusked furry beasts rampaging through the streets. Tharuks—Ithsar’s father had told her about the feral beasts that Commander Zens used to enslave the northerners.

  Then she saw Roberto leaping from Erob, the mighty blue dragon Ithsar had met in the oasis. Roberto flew through the air, barreling into Ezaara, knocking her from her gorgeous multi-hued queen. Ezaara and Roberto fought, tumbling toward the ground.

  Ithsar’s heart pounded as the enormous queen of the dragons dived, her scales flashing with all the colors of the prism-seer, then swooped to grasp Ezaara and Roberto in her talons.

  She deposited them on the grass. Roberto straddled Ezaara, but she still fought, bucked and kicked.

  And then Ithsar’s vision turned cloudy.

  Her hands shook. Roberto loved Ezaara. Why would he attack her? And why would her dragon help? “Saritha, are you able to mind-meld with the green guards and show them this vision? Maybe they’ll recognize the village.”

  “Yes, I can,” Saritha replied.

  It seemed like forever before Saritha answered. Meanwhile, the vision flitted over and over through Ithsar’s mind.

  “They’ve told me this is Lush Valley, the former home of Ezaara, she of the golden hair. Wait a moment.”

  Ithsar waited impatiently, her fingers clenching the pommel of her new leather saddle as they rushed through the darkening sky, the landscape slowly swallowed by dusk.

  “The green guards received word five days ago that Lush Valley was under attack last week. The green guards sent reinforcements immediately. Now, the war has moved farther north.”

  “Where, north? Was Ezaara all right? Why were she and Roberto fighting?”

  Another bone-grinding wait.

  “They don’t know, but we’ll find out soon enough.”

  “How long until we get to Lush Valley?”

  “The green guards say we’ll delay our travel by half a day if we go north-east to Lush Valley. We must fly the most direct route, north-west to Dragons’ Hold.”

  Ithsar ground her teeth. “And how long will that take?”

  “Five days. I know you’re impatient to see how Ezaara is, but we’re flying our fastest, and we’ll need rest if we’re to be battle-ready when we arrive.”

  “Thank you, Saritha. I appreciate your valiant effort.” There was no point in her being grumpy with Saritha, even though dread gnawed at Ithsar’s belly as the dragons flew on through the night.

  Northward

  They traveled all night, riders dozing in their saddles, and the next day the enormous mass of green and blue dragons flew on, spreading across the sky, blotting out entire fields with their shadows. Thika’s nose twitched as he perched on Saritha’s spinal ridge, enjoying the view. Littlings ran outside, laughing and pointing as they passed overhead. The dragons roared, spurting tiny gusts of flame and making the littlings shriek with joy.

  Stefan and Fangora swooped and dived.

  “Those two seem to like an audience,” Saritha commented. “I’m glad you’re more mature. A rider befitting a queen.”

  What a shame. Ithsar hesitated, then decided to ask anyway. “Um, it actually looks like, ah… fun. Are you sure you don’t want to try, too?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” Saritha chuckled. “Hang on.”

  Ithsar tucked Thika in her robes and lunged, lying flat against Saritha’s back and sliding her arms through the holding straps. Thank the desert sun she now had a good quality Naobian saddle with a harness holding her in.

  Saritha plunged, wings furled tightly against her body and her tail whipping up like an arrow. Ithsar’s stomach shot right up into her throat. Wind streamed into her face, dragging tears from her eyes. Her headscarf ripped free and her hair flew out behind her.

  She couldn’t stop grinning. Trees and fields loomed ever closer. When Ithsar could see the needles of the tallest pine, Saritha swooped up and Ithsar’s stomach dropped into her boots. Thank the blazing sun she hadn’t eaten a heavy breakfast.

  “Look at the pretty one. Her scales glimmer silver,” an excited littling cried, dancing in the meadow.

  “Did you hear that?” Saritha crooned. “I’m pretty!”

  “Of course you are.” Ithsar patted her sleek scales, and they shot back high into the sky.

  §

  When darkness fell again, the dragons landed in fields of wild grass north of the Naobian forest. The green guards unloaded cauldrons and supplies, and collected wood for a bonfire. Fangora set the wood alight, and while their dragons went off hunting, the assassins and guards set about making soup, throwing in dried vegetables and fresh roots from the nearby forest.

  Goren called Stefan over to the cauldrons. “Do your magic, Stefan.”

  Stefan fetched pouches of herbs and sprinkled them into the soup and tended it until it bubbled for what seemed like forever. Finally, he declared it ready, and ladled soup into mugs for everyone.

  Then he came over to Ithsar. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

  She patted the edge of her bedroll and he sat on it, placing two mugs of soup on the ground between them. The firelight danced across his face, making his dark eyes glitter. “You know, because I only imprinted with my dragon a couple of weeks ago, I didn’t have time to train properly.”

  “So you can’t fight?” Maybe that’s why he was the cook.

  Stefan shrugged. “You’ve seen how good I wasn’t, the other day.”

  His comment made Ithsar laugh. “True, you weren’t the best at deflecting my attack.” She blew on her soup. “And here I was, thinking I’d beaten a mighty warrior.”

  He chuckled and tilted his head to gaze at the stars. “My whole life, I never thought I’d meet a sea dragon. Or the chief prophetess of the Robandi assassins, let alone have her fight me.” He grinned, his teeth flashing.

  Ithsar picked up her soup and blew on it. “I never thought I’d meet a sea dragon either. Did you know the former chief prophetess, Ashewar, was my mother?”

  “Really?” He said, cocking an eyebrow. “What was she like? Rumors say she was fierce.”

  Biting her lip, Ithsar met his gaze. She’d been trying not to think about her mother lately. She forced the lump from her throat, trying to swallow, but her voice still came out croaky. “Every bit as fierce as the rumors—and more.”

  Stefan’s smile died. His keen eyes flicked over her face. He nodded, gazing at her and reading her pain. “My parents didn’t want me to be a dragon rider,” he said at last. “But sometimes we have to make our own lives, despite how they raised us.”

  Ithsar blinked, fighting her stinging eyes and cradling the warm cup between her hands.

  Stefan blew on his soup, waiting before he spoke again, his gaze not leaving her. He motioned at the fire. “See how the flames in the center of the fire burn brightly? But the flames on the edge are the most adventurous, dancing out to test the air and taste everything around them. We’re like those flames at the edge of the fire, testing new territory, dancing brightly.” He turned back to her, dark eyes earnest. “Dance to your own rhythm, Ithsar, not that of your mother.”

  Something shifted inside Ithsar. The dark gaping well inside her filled with warmth.

  Stefan reached out and took her cup, placing it back on the ground, then squeezed her hand. “I’m your friend. You need not be alone.”

  She glanced around the fire at the forms of her sister assassins, who were quietly talking, lying in the grass, staring at stars or sitting close to the fire, warming their hands. She shook her head. “I’m not alone.”

  Stefan smiled, took his hand from hers and passed Ithsar her soup. “Let’s eat. We need our strength. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.”

  Ithsar sipped her soup. A delicious blend of strange herbs danced across her tongue. “Mmm, what’s in this?”

  “Mint, thyme, tarragon and basil—it’s quite a potent mix.” He shrug
ged. “My parents were herbalists. I guess we bring our heritage with us when we become dragon riders.”

  Ithsar swallowed her soup, warmth trickling into her belly. “It’s not as cold here at night as it is in the desert.”

  “So they say,” he replied, “but wait until you get farther north where there’s snow on the ground.”

  “Is it really as chilly as they say?”

  Stefan nodded. When they’d finished their soup, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny package wrapped in crumpled waxed cloth. He placed it on the grass and opened it, revealing two of the chocolate delicacies Ithsar had enjoyed at the marketplace.

  She sucked in her breath. “For me?”

  “Yes, for you.”

  Ithsar inhaled deeply, already tasting the rich aroma on her tongue. Her mouth watered.

  “Go on.” He nudged the cloth toward her.

  “Is this all you have?” He nodded, so Ithsar took the largest chocolate and broke it, offering him half.

  Stefan set the broken chocolate back on the cloth next to the other, and wrapped them and put the package back in his pocket. Then he lay back, sprawled across his bedroll in the grass, his hands tucked behind his head. “Do the stars look different in the Robandi Desert?”

  Ithsar leaned back on her elbows and gazed up at the velvet sky studded with twinkling diamonds. Oh, camel dung, the silly things reminded her of her mother’s nose studs. “Maybe I can help you learn to fight,” she said.

  “I’m fine at archery,” Stefan replied. “But maybe if we wake early, you can test my sword skills—or lack of them.” After a moment, he added, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Ithsar stared into the fire, the tongues of flame around the edges dancing and reaching for the sky.

  §

  The next morning, as dawn broke, Ithsar and Stefan finished training.

  “You’re much better now that you’ve corrected your balance,” Ithsar said, wiping her brow and sheathing her saber.

  Stefan rammed his sword into its scabbard and swung his arm in a couple of practice strokes. “I think I’ve got the hang of those blows, now.”