Mazyka muttered something indecipherable, then laughed. “Come on, let’s organize their funerals.”
Anakisha’s Funeral
By mid-morning, most of the citizens of Last Stop had gathered on the outskirts of the village for the funeral of Anakisha and Yanir. Giant John had hastily erected a small dais at one end of a snow-crusted meadow. Mazyka had pulled wondrous bolts of gold cloth from the saddlebags of her golden dragon. And now, Yanir and Anakisha lay on the dais, wrapped in shimmering gold, with only their faces showing under the open, sun-kissed sky.
Birds flitted in and out of the evergreens along the side of the meadow, twittering.
Giant John slung a comforting arm around Kisha’s shoulders. Happiness and sorrow warred in her breast. Happiness at finally seeing Anakisha, and sorrow for losing her grandmother.
Giant John squeezed her shoulder, his touch reassuring. “From what Master Giddi says, this will be the first time they’ve seen the open air in over nineteen years.”
Standing on the other side of her, Giddi nodded. “Yes, that’s right. Zens kept them both underground in tanks, all that time. The funny thing is, we always referred to Anakisha as being ‘lost’ in battle. We never said she’d died. But none of us ever dreamed we’d find her.” He scratched one of his bushy eyebrows. “You know, she requested that we bring her back here so you could see her, Kisha. She knew you were maintaining a vigil, and listening to her spirit all these years.” Master Giddi’s eyes were soft.
A lump stuck in Kisha’s throat.
Mazyka, red hair flaming like fire in the sun, looked at Giddi with such tenderness, it stole Kisha’s breath. “Just as you maintained a vigil for me all these years, Giddi. You never gave up hope.”
Giddi kissed her flaming hair. “And you, for me.”
Giant John cleared his throat. “Are you two done? Yanir and Anakisha have waited for a decent funeral for over nineteen years. We don’t want to keep them waiting any longer.”
“Tut, tut, so impatient, John.” Giddi winked at Kisha, who laughed. Then the dragon mage pointed northward.
There were specks in the sky above the forest, north of the fields. As they steadily grew larger, the crowd murmured. Dragons—lots of dragons.
Giant John’s belly laugh rumbled through Kisha’s bones. “You didn’t tell me we were expecting guests, Giddi. But of course Anakisha’s family would want to be here.”
Family? Kisha scarcely dared breathe. Years ago, Anakisha’s children had gone into hiding, because they’d been under threat. When Anakisha and Yanir had died, the knowledge of their children’s whereabouts had been lost. Her mother had once mentioned that it was possible Kisha might have cousins in far-flung regions.
“Are my long-lost cousins the family you mean?” Kisha asked Giant John. “Or do you mean the large family of dragon riders that loved Anakisha?”
Giant John arched an eyebrow. “Tut, tut, so impatient, Kisha.” He winked at Master Giddi and laughed.
Kisha gave him a sharp jab with her elbow, but that just made him laugh harder.
As the dragons neared, the rustle of their wingbeats swished across the meadow, the foliage rippling in the breeze. There were at least forty, of all colors and sizes. Most of them landed near the sea dragons and green guards in the next meadow, but some flew closer and descended to land near Kisha, Giant John, Master Giddi, and Mazyka.
The largest dragon, a multi-hued creature with a regal bearing—Zaarusha, the Dragon Queen—landed nearby and strode toward them, accompanied by an enormous blue.
A tall woman slid from Zaarusha’s back, her long blonde hair stirring in the breeze of other dragons’ wingbeats as an orange dragon and others dropped down behind Zaarusha.
That pretty rider must be Ezaara.
Kisha wiped her suddenly-sweaty palms on her skirt.
A Naobian with a handsome, hard-edged face dismounted from the mighty blue dragon. He held Ezaara’s hand, his smile dissolving those tough edges into tenderness.
Something inside Kisha twanged. All this time, this was what she’d missed, these loving connections.
§
Ezaara strode toward a small band of people assembled near the dais that held the bodies of Anakisha and Yanir. She’d often wondered what Anakisha, the ex-Queen’s Rider, had looked like, and had even been compared to her when she’d first imprinted with Zaarusha. But this chance to see her was something she’d never expected. Such a strange situation. Tomaaz’s girl, Lovina, could preserve someone’s likeness in a portrait, but Zens had preserved Yanir’s whole body and kept Anakisha alive with tubes and a… Mazyka had called it a… a ventilator. That was it. She’d never thought she’d live to hear of something so bizarre.
Anakisha’s wrinkled blue eyes stared at the sky of her homeland. Beside her, Yanir was younger—even handsome, despite the sallow tinge to his skin. Ezaara strode past the dais, Roberto at her side. There would be time for this later. The living were more important right now.
Giant John had his arm over the shoulders of a young girl, perhaps fourteen or fifteen summers old. From what Ma had told her, this was Kisha. Her hand in Roberto’s, Ezaara strode over. She nudged Roberto and mind-melded. “After you.”
His ebony eyes touched Ezaara’s face. “But you’re the Queen’s Rider.”
“You’re her family.”
“No, I really think you should go first as Queen’s Rider.” He squeezed her hand.
“Very well.” Ezaara ignored Master Giddi, Mazyka, and Giant John, and made a beeline for Kisha. “Good morning, Kisha. I’m Ezaara. I believe you met my mother Marlies.”
The girl’s bright blue eyes were wide. She nodded.
Just saying her mother’s name made Ezaara’s eyes sting. But Marlies wouldn’t have wanted her to cry. “Through your help, my mother helped change the fate of Dragons’ Realm.” Ezaara pulled the girl into a warm embrace, enfolding her in her arms. She was so tiny, so frail, yet so strong to have held out for all this time on her own. “Ma appreciated your kindness. The ring you gave her was key to her escaping Zens, and she never would’ve made it across the Flatlands if it weren’t for you and Giant John. You’ve played an important part in this war, and we’ll be forever grateful. If you ever need a home, you’re welcome at Dragons’ Hold.” Ezaara stepped back and brushed away the tears that graced her cheeks.
Kisha’s eyes were bright with moisture too. She gave a trembling smile. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”
Ezaara swept a hand behind her. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
Roberto mind-melded, “She’s so dainty.”
“Yet so strong,” Ezaara melded. “She gave Ma the ring that helped her and Tomaaz save Maazini. Without Kisha, I would’ve lost my family, and we might not be here today.”
“True.” Roberto gave a warm smile and clasped Kisha’s hands. “Kisha, I’m Roberto, your cousin from Naobia. My mother Lucia was your mother’s sister, another of Anakisha’s daughters.” And then he hugged her.
The joy that lit up Kisha’s face was worth all the pain of this war. Worth everything Ezaara had gone through. Zens’ torture. Losing Ma. Everything.
“You have a kind and generous heart, Ezaara,” Zaarusha rumbled in her mind.
“How could I begrudge anyone this? Look how happy she is.”
Adelina raced over and threw her arms around Kisha. “I’m Adelina, Roberto’s sister. I always thought that Roberto and I were the only ones left. Welcome to our family.”
Ezaara didn’t miss the shadow that flitted across Roberto’s face. He was thinking of his father, Amato, again. How he’d survived in an underground lake for years, only to throw himself in the path of a tharuk arrow to save Adelina’s life.
Her twin, Tomaaz, slid from Maazini, his royal orange-scaled dragon, as Lovina landed with Ajeurina, a royal green, and dismounted. Behind them, Taliesin’s red dragon wheeled in and blue guards landed with more people for Kisha to meet.
Tomaaz and Lovina approached Kish
a, smiling. Lovina’s face was no longer gaunt, and she’d gained new curves since being freed from slavery. That, and her confident smile, had transformed her into a completely different person from the cowering reed-thin slave who’d been drugged on numlock and barely aware of her surroundings in Lush Valley.
Kisha beamed as Lovina said, “I’m your cousin too. Argus was my father, but sadly, the rest of my family died as slaves in Death Valley.”
“May I hug you as well?” Tomaaz asked before embracing Kisha. “As Ezaara said, you helped save my life and my mother’s by giving Ma Anakisha’s ring.” He waved a hand behind him. “There’s someone else who’d like to meet you.”
Maazini strode forward, the tip of his tail leaving a thin trail in the snow. His warm dragon breath huffed over them as he passed Ezaara and snuffled Kisha’s hand. Tomaaz scratched his dragon’s snout affectionately. “Ma and I rescued Maazini from Death Valley, where Zens kept him captive.”
Kisha was weeping openly now, the smile upon her face radiant.
§
Kisha couldn’t believe she had a cousin—no, cousins—Roberto, Adelina, and Lovina. And the Queen’s Rider had thanked her.
Roberto grinned. “Wait, there are more.”
More people flooded forward, forming a line. So many, she was never going to keep up with the whirl of faces and names.
A waif-thin boy with dark hair and solemn lake-blue eyes shook her hand. “I’m your cousin, Rhun Taliesin of Waykeep in the Flatlands. You can call me Taliesin,” he said. “My pa, Rhun, was Anakisha’s son. He died with the rest of my family in Death Valley, but Tomaaz and Marlies helped me to escape. Now, I’m training in prophecy at Dragons’ Hold.” He beamed. “Thank you for keeping the ring safe or we wouldn’t have made it.”
All this time alone, tending the bar, mopping up tharuks’ spilled beer, staying out of the way when they brawled, and cleaning up the debris, had been worth it. Her loyalty to her grandmother had helped save lives.
Next in line were a woman with her husband and children, not dragon riders by the looks of their clothes. “I’m Esmeralda, your aunt. Meet your uncle Nick and your cousins, Urs, Tom, Greta, Luisa, Markus, and Rona.” Urs, the oldest, was way older than Kisha, but the youngest was still a littling. “Until recently, we hailed from Western Settlement in Lush Valley where Nick and I ran the inn.”
Tears streamed down Kisha’s face as they each hugged her.
A middle-aged woman presented her with a beautiful hand-painted scarf of green and blue sea dragons wheeling above an ocean. “I, too, am your aunt. My name’s Ana and this is my husband, Ernst, and my children, Lofty, Mari, Samuel, and Johanna, and Little Ana. We were Ezaara’s neighbors in Lush Valley. I also kept a jade ring for Anakisha for many years, until it was needed.”
“You did?” Kisha felt an instant sense of kinship with this woman with the kind eyes and warm smile. She wrapped the pretty scarf around her neck. “Thank you.”
Kishanna’s comforting voice rushed into her mind like a warm breeze. “Not only do you belong, you are at the very heart of a family that spans Dragons’ Realm—from Dragons’ Hold to Naobia and all the way across the Flatlands.”
Kisha eyes skimmed over all fifteen cousins and her two aunts and uncles, and she felt as if her skin would explode with joy.
Her family members filed past her grandparents, gently placing their hands over their hearts as they paid their last respects, then stood closest to the dais, near the front of the assembled crowd. The gathered crowd’s murmurs died as Kisha faced them, next to Ezaara, Master Giddi, Mazyka, and Giant John.
Zaarusha reared onto her hind legs and roared, then stalked over to Kisha.
“She wants to mind-meld with you,” Ezaara said.
As the dragon queen dipped her head, Kisha was struck with awe. Zaarusha’s hide glimmered with all the colors of the rainbow. When she laid her hand on the queen’s scaly forehead, Zaarusha’s memories rushed through her.
Anakisha as a young girl—beautiful, strong-willed, and feisty. Anakisha, the first time Zaarusha had seen her, imprinting. Her meeting Yanir. Snatches of them leading blue dragons into battle. And then the vision that Kisha had seen herself, many times over: Yanir dying and Anakisha trying to save him, but falling off Zaarusha into a swarming mass of tharuks.
“I thank you for being true to the memory of my former rider. As Ezaara said, there will always be a home for you at Dragons’ Hold.”
The warmth that washed over Kisha settled deep inside her. She belonged.
§
Finally, it was time to start. Kisha waited with bated breath, wondering what she could learn about her grandparents. Ezaara stood before the assembled crowd, her blonde hair shifting in the breeze. Zaarusha roared, quieting the murmurs.
“It’s appropriate that we’re in Last Stop, the last place Anakisha visited before she was lost in battle. It is with joy and sorrow that we meet here today,” Ezaara said, her clear voice rippling through the throng and out across the fields. “Joy that slaves have been freed and families can be reunited. Joy that Zens and his evil monsters have been vanquished. And sorrow that we are mourning many we loved and lost. Today, we celebrate the actions of brave people, who stood up against evil. Alone, none of us could’ve battled Zens. But together, we managed to triumph. Every one of you can be proud of your actions, no matter how small. Whether you fed a hungry warrior, rode a dragon, flung mage flame, tended to wounded, repaired destruction left by tharuks, or sheltered your family behind closed doors, I thank you.”
Despite the watching crowd, Kisha made no move to wipe the tears from her cheeks.
Ezaara swept a hand toward the assembled people. “Today, we’re experiencing something that will never happen again. Nineteen years ago, the King Dragon, Syan, Yanir, his rider, and Anakisha, the Queen’s Rider, were lost in battle. The world gate was shut and Mazyka and many other mages were locked out of Dragons’ Realm. For years, we lived in darkness, with a growing rift between riders and mages that almost spanned a generation. During these dark times, Commander Zens tightened his grasp on the land. None of us suspected his plan went so much deeper. None of us ever dreamed of shadow dragons, of thousands killed in slave camps, or crystals that could turn our loyalty and make us try to kill the ones we love.” Tears glimmered on Ezaara’s cheeks now, but her voice remained steady. “None of us suspected that Zens had kept Yanir preserved. Or kept Anakisha alive, only to exist as a spirit, trapped in a realm gate, while he nourished her body, imprisoned in a tank.” She shuddered. “So, now we’ll pay our last respects to Yanir, the King’s Rider, and Anakisha, the former Queen’s Rider. We’ll celebrate their lives, and thank them for their service to Dragons’ Realm.” Ezaara gestured Master Giddi forward.
Arms gesticulating and his eyebrows shooting up and down to punctuate his stories, Master Giddi recounted anecdote after anecdote of Anakisha’s bravery and stubbornness, Yanir’s sense of humor and courage, and the way they’d been lost in battle. The crowd was transfixed, laughing as he regaled them with funny stories, moved to tears as he spoke of their bravery and courage, and silent as he finally finished.
So many people spoke of her grandmother and grandfather—Hans, Ezaara and Tomaaz’s father; Giant John, who made the crowd laugh as he described some of Anakisha’s antics; Lars, the leader of the Council of the Twelve Dragon Masters; and Aidan, the master of battle.
Kisha’s tears dried, and her heart filled, and then overflowed. If only Ma could hear these stories.
Finally, Kisha’s newfound aunts and uncles spoke, one after the other. And then Ezaara turned to Kisha.
Kisha stood before hundreds of dragons and people, and for the first time since losing her parents, her heart was at peace. She gazed out at people’s shining faces, some damp with tears, and others blazing with happiness. And all Kisha could say was, “Thank you for bringing my grandmother and grandfather home.”
The ground shook as the dragons roared.
Zaarusha sprang to
the dais, accompanied by her offspring, Erob, Maazini, and Ajeurina. The dragons grasped the ends of cords that were bound to the shimmering gold cloth wrapped around Anakisha and Yanir’s bodies. Between them, they lifted Kisha’s grandparents high into the air, wings flapping valiantly until they were mere shadows against the sun.
The dragons let go.
Moments later, bright twin flames lit the sky, burning like comets, as the dragons chased Anakisha and Yanir, flaming them until they were nothing but ash scattered over the fields.
Dancing
Drums pounded in Last Stop’s village square as the melody of flutes and a gittern wound among the flickering torches, conversation, dancing, and laughter. Villagers had pulled tables and chairs into the square, and the dragons had created fire pits for spit-roasted pigs and goats. Fruit, fresh bread, cakes, and cheese adorned the tables, and in the corner was a steaming cauldron of fine sweet potato and lemongrass soup.
Perched on the rooftops around the square and in the fields surrounding the village, dragons slept with their heads tucked under their wings.
Roberto sat on a bench in a corner with his arm wrapped tightly around Ezaara’s waist. Gods, he’d nearly lost her so many times since he’d met her—now, he was never letting go. There’d been attempts on her life and her virtue; the time he’d had to leave her in Zens’ hands to be tortured so he could save Adelina—by the First Egg, what a heart-wrenching moment that had been; poisoning; a knife attack; tharuk fights; shadow dragons; and Ashewar, who’d wanted to kill them both. And more.
She turned to him and mind-melded, “Morbid thoughts?”
“Just thinking how much I love you.”
Her smile was tinged with sadness. It would be for a while. Ezaara had been close to her mother. That wound would take time to heal. He pressed his lips against her hair, inhaling the herbal fragrance of her hair soap. “Just remember, although many have fallen in battle, we’ve won the war.”
Riders of Fire Complete Series Box Set books 1-6: YA Epic Fantasy Dragon Rider Adventures Page 180
