At the back of the forge, a pair of boots was sticking out from behind a shed. The first person he’d seen, but it didn’t look promising. Hans wanted to run over, but forced himself to creep along the side of the wall. A stench wafted from the shed, making him want to gag, but he swallowed his gorge. When he rounded the shed wall, Hans nearly leaped backward in shock.
It was one of those beasts with the piggy snout and tusks, its throat slit, lying in a puddle of black blood. Its claws were sunk deep into the earth, grass poking up between its fingers. Its other hand had been hacked off above the wrist. It stunk. Nearby was the smithy’s body. Hans rushed over. With deep gashes across his chest, Hami the smithy was dead.
No, not Hami. Hans choked back a sob and eased the shed door open to peer inside. Just hay and more tools.
He raced back to Pa and Guin.
“Well, I don’t care,” Pa was bellowing, “my wife is gone.”
“And. My. Ma!” Guin yelled back, punctuating his words by kicking the tongs about.
“I’ve found something,” Hans said.
They both stopped, turning to face him.
“Come with me.” Hans led the way to the shed. “It looks like these creatures stole our people,” he said, showing them the bodies of the smithy and the beast.
“Or slaughtered everyone,” Pa mumbled. “Gods, poor Hami.” He swiped the back of his hand across his eyes.
“But we haven’t found any more bodies,” Guin replied.
“They could have buried them,” Pa answered.
It’d have to be a pretty big grave to fit the whole village, but Hans didn’t say anything. At least Pa and Guin weren’t yelling any more. “We don’t have time to bury Hami now,” Hans said. “I’ll get a blanket and we can come back later.”
Pa nodded. “Agreed. We need to check everywhere before we bury the dead. And who knows, perhaps more of those things will come back soon.”
Guin kicked the beast. “Ugly sharding thing, stealing our family.”
Hans retrieved a blanket and covered the smithy, then they mounted their horses and headed back to the deserted village.
Survivors
Pa grew more and more morose and withdrawn as they searched each home in Monte Vista. They only found one person left. Fagen, a former elder on the village council. Through his gibbering, they deciphered that the monsters had come the day before while he’d been on the latrine. He’d stayed there until everything was quiet. When he’d come outside, everyone was gone.
“All gone. Why have they stolen our loved ones?” Pa’s heavy boots thunked across the porch past the dead dragon rider. He plodded inside and slumped into a chair, staring at the floorboards.
Hans helped Fagen into the house and sat him at the table.
“Th-thank you. Monsters came,” Fagen muttered, staring around wildly, as if beasts could pounce on him now.
“It’s all right,” Hans soothed, “you’re safe here.” If those creatures could spirit the entire village away overnight, none of them were safe.
Guin threw some kindling on the hearth and struck a flint, igniting the wood. “We have to chase them, Pa, and get our families back.” He threw some grain and an onion and spices into a pot of water and placed it on the hearth.
Pa’s gaze was nailed to the floor.
“Pa.” Hans put his hand on Pa’s shoulder, but he didn’t look up. “Pa, we need to find our family.” Hans shook him gently. They had to still be alive …
Pa muttered. “Find them … yes.” But he didn’t get up or make for his horse. He just sat there.
Guin shot a look at Hans, and jerked his thumb towards the door.
Hans stepped outside to talk to his brother. Seeing the wagon reminded Hans of Evie hiding for piggy hunt. By the dragon gods, had it only been yesterday that they’d left to catch boar?
“We have to go after them,” Guin said, keeping his voice low. “You and I.”
“Makes sense. Pa’s too shocked to come. But won’t Pa and Fagen be in danger here alone?”
“Those beasts are long gone. And they’ve taken nearly everything. Why would they come back?”
Hans shrugged. “Makes sense.” He started for his horse, but Guin stopped him.
“We have to eat, and pack a few supplies. We may be days on the trail. We need to feed Pa and Fagen too.”
“How many of those beasts manhandled everyone out of here? We could be up against hordes of them.” Hans sighed. “If only I’d convinced Pa to bring Evie and Alfie hunting ...”
Guin laid a hand on Hans’ shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself, Hans. They still would’ve taken Ma. It’s not our fault we were away.” His voice grew fierce. “We’ll make those beasts pay and get our loved ones back. And free the rest of our village.” He thumped his chest with his fist. “We’re hunters of Monte Vista. We’ve killed one of them already. They’ll never know what hit them.”
“We’ll need a plan.” Hans wasn’t comforted. Although Guin was courageous, he was often rash and didn’t think things through. Hans’ mind whirled, but he couldn’t think of a better course of action. He clasped Guin’s hand and shook it. “Right, we’ll leave straight after we’ve eaten. I’ll ready the horses while you cook.” Hans strode off to the barn. He needed time to think.
Worry gnawed at his gut as he measured oats into their horses’ troughs. Little Alfie, Evelyn … where were they? He fetched a bucket of water and put the saddles back on Rosie and Thunderfoot, Guin’s horse. “Sorry we have to ride out again so soon, girl.” He patted Rosie’s flank. “But we have our family to find.” His throat grew tight and his eyes pricked.
Guin was right. They had to go now, had to find them. But first, he needed a quiet moment. Hans’ gaze fell on the ladder to the loft. Was it only yesterday that Alfie had hidden in the hayloft? Gripped with a desire to be close to his missing siblings, Hans climbed the ladder. At the top, he kicked at the hay and sat dangling his legs off the edge of the loft. He was exhausted, and knew he should eat, but he wasn’t hungry. Everything was so bleak. The only thing he’d been concerned about when they’d left for their hunt was his name-day feast. Now that was laughable. Hans shredded a piece of hay, dropping the pieces to the ground below.
“Squeak, piggy, squeak,” he muttered, wishing it was all a game, not this horrible nightmare.
For a moment Hans thought he’d heard Alfie squeaking, but he snorted. “Squeak, piggy squeak, indeed.” As if remembering their game could bring Alfie and Evelyn back.
Hang on, was that another squeak? No, it was too much to hope. But despite himself, Hans called out. “Alfie, is that you?”
There was scrabbling at the back of the hay pile and Alfie crawled out, his eyes hollow and face tracked with dust and dried tears.
Hans leaped up and grabbed him, hugging his bony body. “Thank the Egg, you’re here.” And alive. He tousled Alfie’s hair, not daring to let him go as tears coursed down their cheeks. “I’m so glad you hid.” Hans didn’t ask about Ma or Evelyn.
Alfie’s thin body heaved with sobs as he clung to Hans.
Hans tried to soothe him, pulling him down onto his lap in the hay, but nothing worked, so he held him tight, waiting for his little brother to cry himself out.
When Alfie’s sobs became sniffs, Hans dried his tears with his shirttail. “Now,” he said softly, “tell me what happened.”
“I was playing in the barn when they went to the house and took Ma and Evie.”
“Those armored beasts with snouts?” Hans asked.
Alfie nodded. “I hid in the loft and peeked through a crack in the wood. When they came towards the barn, I did what you said, and climbed out the window onto the roof.” He started whimpering. “But it was awful. I saw everything.” He shuddered.
“It’s all right, now,” said Hans. “We’ll protect you.”
“The monsters took everyone away. Our cows, goats and sheep too. I lay on the roof for ages, then I crept back down to hide in the hay. Then I fell asleep.”
>
Hans gave his shoulders a squeeze. “You did well to outwit them.”
Alfie’s bottom lip trembled. “But what about Ma and Evelyn? Did you find them?”
“Guin and I are going to look for them now. Come on, let’s get you down and fed. Pa will be happy to see you.”
Tharuks
They rode hard through the night, following a trail through Great Spanglewood Forest. As dawn came, they could see the path the creatures had taken. On either side of the track, undergrowth was trampled. Deep wagon ruts were gouged into muddy patches, as if the wagons had been carrying heavy cargo. Hoof prints from stock and the footprints of villagers were mashed upon one another until only those on the edges of the trail were recognizable.
Guin reined his horse in. “They seem to be heading for the Terramites.” He took a swig from his waterskin and passed Hans a handful of dried apple slices.
The Terramites, a treacherous range of alps, were another half-day’s ride west. “How will the littlings make it over those icy ranges without being frostbitten?”
Guin rolled his eyes. “Do you think those monsters even care?”
Hans didn’t know what to think. He had no idea about those creatures—except they’d murdered the smithy, so they probably didn’t care about Ma or littlings getting frozen. “Let’s press on. Hopefully we’ll catch up with them before long.”
Hans’ false bravado evaporated as they continued along the trail without catching a glimpse of a beast or hearing anything other than birdsong, crickets and their horses’ hoofbeats.
“Where in the Egg’s name are they?” Guin muttered as they rode side by side along a wider section of the trail.
They rounded a corner and came to a wagon, tilted on its side, mired deep in a mud hole. Bars were fitted between the wagon base and a wooden roof to form a cage.
Hans leaped off Rosie’s back, rushing to the cage. He snatched a chain, holding it up. “Look.” More chains were fastened to the inside of the cage.
“Slaves! Flaming talons!” Guin’s face was etched with horror. “They want Ma and Evie as slaves.” He rushed over, examining the cage on wheels.
So that was the beasts’ cargo. Human slaves. “Look.” Some of the bars had blood crusted on them. Hans’ stomach churned.
Guin shook his head.
“We can’t give up,” said Hans. “We have to find them. Come on, let’s go.” He remounted Rosie and snapped the reins, but she was tired too. They plodded along the trail. “So, what’s our plan when we meet these beasts?”
“Hadn’t thought that far ahead,” Guin admitted. “Rush them, I guess.”
“There are too many. Maybe we can separate some of them from the main bunch and kill them off quietly so we can rescue our people.”
They rounded a corner and headed through a clearing.
“Good idea,” Guin said, “Although I think—”
The bushes rustled. The snouted beasts rushed at them from the edges of the clearing.
“Ambush,” yelled Hans above their snarls.
Rosie reared as beasts rushed between her and Thunderfoot, separating them and surrounding them both. Some of the creatures held bows, with arrows trained on them.
Hans’ stomach shrank as he drew his sword. Rosie tossed her head and shifted on the spot, refusing to stay still. Hans didn’t blame her. A pungent stench drifted from the creatures, making him wish he was downwind. Their beady red eyes constantly shifted between him and his horse, assessing them.
A large brute with a scar over one eye stalked from the trees towards them. “Nice catch.” Its voice was guttural, reminding Hans of rocks shifting on a flooded riverbed. “Good meat on those two.” It gestured at Rosie and Thunderfoot.
No, not meat. Thunderfoot and Rosie had been in the family for years.
Guin slashed his sword at one of the brutes, but an arrow struck his sword arm within moments. He dropped his weapon, clutching his arm to his torso.
The scarred brute guffawed. “Serves you right. Trying to hurt tharuks.”
The rest of the creatures snorted and chuckled.
Tharuks? Is that what these beasts were called?
“Strong men make good slaves,” barked the scarred tharuk leader. “Tharuk 107, take them.”
A large tharuk raised his furry arm. “Kill horses. Take men.” His command snapped through the air.
Tharuks swarmed Hans. Rosie reared, striking one in the head with her hoof. The tharuk went down in a spray of dark blood. Another slashed at Rosie’s flank with its claws, making her whinny in distress.
Hanging with his knees, Hans whipped out his bow and aimed at a tharuk archer. His arrow ripped a hole in the brute’s neck. He spun to aim again, but a tharuk leaped onto Rosie, digging its claws into her side. She shrieked and bucked. Hans fell from the saddle, tumbling to the ground. He rolled to avoid her slashing hooves, and hit a tharuk’s legs, bowling it over. The beast jumped to its feet as Hans clambered to his own.
The tharuk leaped onto his back, digging its claws through his jerkin, raking his flesh.
Hans screamed, his voice lost in the cacophony of horses and snarling monsters. He thrashed and bucked, but the tharuk hung on, wrapping its legs around his waist.
He backed towards a tree, bashing the monster into the trunk. It loosed its grip, falling against the tree, but it was too late; two more tharuks grabbed Hans by the arms and took his sword from him.
A tharuk with a split tusk spat stinking saliva in his face. Two more shackled his wrists with chains. The beasts prodded him with their claws, shoving him towards their leader. Another tharuk grabbed Rosie’s harness and tied her to a tree. Her eyes rolled, whites showing, and she bared her teeth as the tharuk jabbed her with Hans’ sword to keep her flailing hooves at bay.
His back still stinging, Hans gathered a little slack from the chains into his fists. When the tharuks were distracted, he’d try and make a break for it on Rosie.
Sounds of a scuffle and the clinking of chains came from the trees. A monster emerged, dragging Guin by his chained wrists into the clearing. His arrow wound had soaked his sleeve in blood. “You lily-livered monsters,” he yelled, “stealing women and littlings.”
“And men.” The tharuk leader laughed, baring yellowed teeth beneath its snout. “Strong men.” Claws sprang from its furry fingertips. It slashed Rosie’s flank, licking the blood off its claws. “Kill horse. Good eating.”
Rosie skittered and whinnied.
This was his chance. Hans yanked on the chains. Surprised, his captors dropped them, releasing him. He bolted across the clearing, pushing a tharuk away from his horse, and threw himself in front of Rosie.
An arrow whistled past his head and sunk deep into Rosie’s neck. Hans’ horse let out a startled whinny. Another arrow landed near the first. Blood cascaded down her neck over her chest and hooves. Her knees buckled and Hans’ horse, a gift from his father when he was just ten summers old, collapsed. Her eyes fluttered and shut. Hans threw himself at Rosie, hugging her neck, not caring that he was covered in her blood.
Tharuks dragged him off Rosie. He kicked and lashed out, but they yanked his chains, stretching his arms out and tied him between two trees.
They did the same to Guin.
A huge beast wielded an axe, hacking off chucks of Rosie’s flesh and tossing them to the other tharuks. With each slash of his blade, Hans cried out. Hot tears rolled down his face. Guin, pale with shock and strung up by his injured arm was, for once, speechless.
A deep cavern opened inside Hans as he turned his head away from the beasts devouring his beloved Rosie. Chains taut, he leaned forward and retched on the grass.
Dragon Mage
Hans shambled along among the tharuks. From snatches of tharuk conversation, he gathered that the main group of slaves were halfway up the Terramites, heading for Commander Zens—whoever that was. He tried to catch Guin’s attention, but his brother had his head down, teeth gritted, trying to stave off the pain from his wounded arm.
Considering the beasts were yanking him along by his chained wrists, it was amazing Guin could walk at all.
Hans kicked himself. They hadn’t considered an ambush. Stupid, really. And now, Rosie was dead and they were captive. His stomach riled at the memory of the beasts butchering his horse.
Guin’s stare was blank, eyes glazed with pain. It was up to Hans to get them out of here.
There was a roar in the distance. More tharuks? His heart quickened. Maybe they were catching up to Ma, Evie and the others.
Suddenly, a jet of flame shot between the trees, incinerating the lead tharuk, leaving a pile of smoldering flesh and singed fur. Wings swished as dragons shot over the trees. Dragons were here! The blue guards, by the look of their dark scales flashing between the foliage. No, wait, there was a bronze riderless dragon among them, too.
The riders on the blue dragons shot arrows at tharuks on the outer edges of the group, well away from Hans and Guin. Some tharuks fled. Others bunched together, instinctively taking refuge near Hans and Guin, as if they knew the riders would avoid harming them. Hans yanked on his chains and broke free, but the tharuk who’d secured his chains snatched up the metal links and wound them around its arm. “You’re mine,” it said, tusks drooling. “Human meat shield.”
The tharuk dragged him off, away from the dragons, into the trees. Roars and crackling flame drowned out Hans’ cries. He struggled, kicking the beast. It slashed its claws across his tunic, rending the fabric and scoring his flesh. He bellowed in pain. Blood splattered his breeches as the tharuk dragged him deeper into the woods.
A ball of green flame shot past Hans, igniting a bush. A curse rang out behind them. A mage? Hans turned, but no one was there.
The swish of wings sounded and a man swung down through the trees on a rope. Opening his hand, he flung a green fireball at the tharuk. It hit the beast’s chest. With a shriek of pain, the monster fell to the ground, with a smoking hole in its torso.
Hans gulped. Mage fire! He hadn’t expected that. Or dragons.
Bronze Dragon, A Riders of Fire prequel novelette Page 3
