Ma and Alfie had only been inside for a few moments when Guin rushed outside. “Evie?” His voice choked up. “Little Evie?”
Hans lifted her out of Master Giddi’s arms, cradling her body against his chest. Thin, so pitifully thin. Gods, as if she hadn’t eaten for weeks. Festering sores covered her legs. Her tunic was soaked in blood. The wizard had artfully hidden the worst of it with his body and arms. Luckily Alfie had been so fixated on Ma, he hadn’t seen that their sister was dead.
Guin was sobbing now. Hans’ cheeks were wet, too.
Master Giddi swung out of the saddle. “Get me some water and some fresh clothes. If we clean her up, she’ll be less of a shock for your father and little brother.”
Guin rushed off to the pump.
“What’s wrong with Ma?” Hans asked the mage quietly. “Will she recover?”
Master Giddi nodded. “It’s a plant extract that makes the mind slow but obedient. Tharuks keep their slaves under control with this stuff. It’ll wear off in a few days, but it may take longer to recover from the shock of her experience.”
Master Giddi took the cloth from Guin and cleaned the blood off Evelyn. By the time they pulled a fresh tunic and breeches over the top of her clothes she looked almost normal—except for her pale, pale skin and unmoving eyes.
Hans left Evelyn in Guin’s care and went inside.
Pa had snapped out of himself. He’d risen from his chair in the corner and was sitting by Ma, spooning stew into her mouth, with Alfie on his knee. “My lovely Marika, you look so hungry,” he said, wiping her mouth with a napkin and giving her another spoonful.
She swallowed, staring at the table.
“I understand,” said Pa. “This has been a shock for you. It was shock for me too, but it’s going to be all right. You’re home again, safe with us.”
Hans cleared his throat.
Pa turned, a smile lighting his face. “Hans, Marika’s home,” he said. “All we need now is Evie. Have the dragons brought her too?”
His face was so full of hope, Hans heart cracked.
If only Evelyn was alive.
“Ah, Alfie, could you please feed Ma while Pa comes outside?”
Pa frowned, but he didn’t say anything, just followed Hans out the door. They took him into the barn where Guin was sitting with Evie on his lap.
Pa froze, staring.
“How did she die?” he finally croaked. He knelt before Guin, and took Evie in his arms, cradling her. Sobs wracked his frame as he cried over her little body, wetting her hair with his tears.
Hans’ face was wet too. He’d never play piggy hunt with Evie again.
Master Giddi entered the barn and placed his arm across Pa’s shoulders. “I know your grief is fresh,” he said, “but we have need of you. We’ve saved more of your villagers, but there’s no one to tend them.”
Oh gods, they wouldn’t even have time to grieve.
Reluctantly, Pa placed Evie back in Guin’s arms and fetched Ma and Alfie.
Alfie clung to Evie, screaming as they dug her grave. And when they lowered her into the grave, placing flowers on top of her buried body, he clung onto Hans, crying until he was hoarse. Once her grave was covered, they each placed a stone on the dirt as a token of affection.
Shortly after, blue dragons landed, bringing more people.
Master Giddi warmed the stew with wizard flame. They fed vacant-eyed friends who barely recognized them.
Late that night, when everyone was asleep in beds, on blankets on the floor, or in the hayloft, Hans sat on the porch and stared at the stars. Usually the night sky gave him a sense of peace, but tonight he was restless. So much had changed. With Evie dead, Ma a shell of herself, and the rest of the village the same, how would they recover?
A gust of dragon flame lit up Handel’s large head and chest. The bronze dragon wanted to talk to him—Hans sensed it. He wandered across the grass to Handel and placed his hand on Handel’s head.
“Lean on me,” the dragon rumbled.
Hans wrapped his arms around Handel’s warm neck and buried his face in his hide. His scales were warm and supple. A sigh shuddered out of Hans’ body, but no tears came. He’d cried them all out over Evelyn’s grave, then rolled up his sleeves and gotten to work. Now he was too exhausted to feel anything but the aching numb hole where his sister had been.
“It will ease,” the dragon said. “The pain will ease.”
“How long?” Hans asked.
Handel didn’t answer, but a gentle comforting rumble flowed through Hans’ mind, and for the first time since Ma and Evelyn had gone missing, Hans felt peace.
§
Handel, Master Giddi, the blue dragons and their riders stayed for two weeks. After a few days, the villagers lost their vacant stares and started talking. Many of them couldn’t remember a lot of what happened, saying they’d had a blanket of gray over their minds. They moved back into their homes. Some people were missing, dead beyond the Terramites, so some families moved in with each other and other families moved closer to the center of town.
The dragons helped dig a trench around the village, heaping mounds of earth around the perimeter to form crude walls. They stationed patrols of able-bodied men and women, especially those good with a bow, on perimeter duty. The smithy’s son fashioned horns that they could blow to sound an alarm if tharuks were seen.
Jenny was on perimeter duty, sometimes with Hans. But nothing was the same. How could he feel happy that she’d survived when Evelyn was dead?
Before the dragons left, Handel visited Hans one last time. He bowed his head so they could meld. “Come for a ride with me, Hans.”
They lifted off above the village. From the air, Monte Vista seemed so small. Great Spanglewood Forest stretched east across the plains, the peaks of the Terramites hedging the forest in on the west.
One day, he’d go over those Terramites and purge the land of the monsters that had destroyed his sister. The wind blew a fresh scent of pine and strongwood into Hans’ face. It couldn’t purge the sorrow from Hans’ heart, but something loosened inside him.
Hans laid his hand on Handel’s hide so they could mind-meld. “Thank you, Handel, this is just what I needed.”
“For now,” said Handel cryptically. “One day, it won’t be enough, and then I’ll come for you. Believe me, Hans, Monte Vista is not your stopping point. One day you’ll be a dragon rider and live at Dragons’ Hold.”
Handel
A few months later, Hans and Guin were out hunting, close to Monte Vista—they didn’t roam far from the village nowadays—when he spied a bronze flash above the treetops. His heart lurched. It must be Handel—who else?
“Race you home,” he called to Guin, who whooped and followed.
They cantered back on their horses. Guin grinned. “I’ll tend to these mounts, you visit your other mount.”
“Don’t be silly. He’s not mine.”
“Might be one day. Look, he’s still got no rider.”
“He’s just here to visit. Save me some dinner.” Hans raced to meet the majestic bronze dragon, who had settled on the grass.
Hope surged inside him. It was true: there was no rider in Handel’s saddle. His bronze scales were brilliant in the sunlight, shining with an intensity Hans had never seen. Then a rush of energy hit Hans. It was too big to contain. He was going to burst.
Visions cascaded through his mind: him on Handel; Handel blazing tharuks with dragon flame; firing arrows from dragonback; laughing at a table with fellow dragon riders; two blond littlings running in the sun.
“Hans, you’re destined to be my rider.”
“How can you speak in my mind? We’re not touching.”
“We’re imprinting. You’re my new rider. We can mind-meld whenever we want.”
Imprinting? “Me, a rider?” A surge of fierce joy shot through Hans. “And the things I just saw?”
“Prophecies. I suspect it’s your dragon gift. Mine too. We’ll share our lives and our talents
to protect Dragons’ Realm. We’ll fight to ensure our people’s freedom.”
There was still an Evelyn-sized hole inside Hans, but something else had been filled. This was so right. And Handel was such an awesome dragon. But how could he leave his family? They’d lost so much. Had so much to rebuild. They needed him.
“Ah, I can’t,” he said aloud. “I have to stay in Monte Vista.” Even as he said the words, something shrank inside him and a light winked out.
“Hans.” Pa’s voice startled him.
He turned. “Yes?”
His whole family were on the front steps. “It’s your path, Son.” Pa cleared his throat.
“Go, Hans,” Ma urged gently. “Without this dragon, I wouldn’t be alive. We owe him more than our son. We owe him our lives.”
Alfie piped up. “One day, can I have a ride, too?”
Guin stepped forward with Hans’ hunting rucksack and weapons. “I knew this day would come. We all did. We’ve discussed it. Here are your things.”
Pa hugged him. “Good luck at Dragons’ Hold.”
With damp cheeks, Ma embraced him.
Alfie squeezed him tight. “Come back and visit,” he said fiercely.
“Even better,” said Hans, “why don’t you come for a ride now?” Hans lifted Alfie into Handel’s saddle and clambered up behind his littling brother.
Alfie was so excited, he couldn’t stop jabbering. “Look at his wings. They glint in the sun. The wind’s tickling my ears. Oh, and it’s cold up here. Look how small home is. The houses are like bark floating on a river. Oh Hans, I want a dragon too.”
Hans grinned.
“He has great courage, this littling.” Handel’s deep voice drifted through his mind as they landed.
Hans lifted Alfie down and passed him to Pa, then hugged his family farewell and climbed back into the saddle.
Handel bunched his legs and flapped, lifting them off the ground. Hans waved until his family became specks in a tiny clearing—Monte Vista—nestled in the sprawling green carpet of Great Spanglewood Forest.
He turned to face the vast alps in the distant north.
“I’m glad you’re my new rider.” Handel roared, belching flame into the sky.
The tremor vibrated through Hans’ body, and he whooped as they headed to Dragons’ Hold.
More Riders of Fire Adventures
Ezaara—Book 1
Dragon Hero—Book 2
Dragon Rift—Book 3
2019
Dragon Strike—Book 4
2019
Coming Soon: Riders of Fire Novellas
Dragon Healer—Book 5
Dragon Mage—Book 6
Dragon Calls—Book 7
Free Short Story—Silver Dragon—Riders of Fire
Marlies is good at healing.
So good that people from all over Montanara ask for her.
So good that the town’s bullies target her.
But when Giddi, the Master Wizard and famous Dragon Mage,
calls Marlies deep into Great Spanglewood Forest, she gets a surprise.
What’s waiting for Marlies in Spanglewood?
And how will it change her life forever?
Find out what happens to Marlies, and how it shapes Ezaara’s life, in Silver Dragon, exclusively on Eileen’s site and only available for a limited time. EileenMuellerAuthor.com/readers-free-books/
Turn the page for a preview of Ezaara, Book 1 in the Riders of Fire series.
Ezaara
Ezaara, book 1 in the Riders of Fire series is on Amazon. Experience Ezaara’s adventures as she becomes the new Queen’s Rider amid cutthroat politics and traitors in every shadow.
“A great fantasy read.” —Dean O’Gorman, actor, Fili the dwarf in The Hobbit
Lush Valley
The scrape of a blade sliding from its scabbard cut through the hum of the market square. Ezaara dropped her herb basket. Spinning, she drew her sword.
Tomaaz. Wasn’t it enough that he’d beaten her last time? And the time before? Of course not—today he had an audience. Sensing a fight, people backed toward stalls of plaited-onion wreaths, wood carvings and hats, clearing a ring around Tomaaz and Ezaara. On the far side of the marketplace, painted scarves fluttered in the breeze.
Tomaaz lunged.
Ezaara blocked his blow, then feinted. In a flurry of strokes, he drove her backward toward an apple cart. Typical. Quick to attack, he loved to corner his opponents.
“Take five to one for Tomaaz,” Lofty yelled. The clink of coppers sealed bets. Folk always favored her brother.
Ezaara whirled as his blade whistled past her face, the whisper of its passage kissing her cheek. That was close, too close. She ducked as he lunged again, then she danced out of reach, saved by her footwork. They fought their way past brightly-patterned bolts of cloth. Tomaaz thrust to her right. Dodging, she bumped the table and the bolts went flying.
“Hey, my cloth,” yelled Old Bill as Ezaara leaped over the bolts and Tomaaz gave chase.
Ezaara faced her brother. Perhaps she could distract him. “Seen any pretty girls today?” she taunted, thrusting under his guard. “Look, there’s one behind you.”
His blade answered for him. He was stronger. And faster. She blocked him, arm aching from the impact. Tomaaz’s sword sliced dangerously near. He was so sure he could beat her. Slowing her steps as if she was tiring, Ezaara pretended to stumble, landing on one knee. “Ow!”
Tomaaz faltered. “Ezaara, are you all right?”
Driving her sword under his arm, Ezaara tapped his shirt. “I did it!” she cried, leaping to her feet. “I beat you.”
A chorus of cheers erupted from the onlookers. Lofty called, “Go, Ezaara!”
A man yelled, “Lucky she’s not a tharuk, Tomaaz, or you’d be dead meat.”
A chill skittered down Ezaara’s spine. Thankfully there were no tharuks in Lush Valley.
“Aagh, beaten,” Tomaaz groaned. Sheathing his sword, he wiped the sweat from his brow.
Ezaara met his green eyes squarely. “You chose to fight me here.”
Around them, coppers changed hands. Suddenly, Lofty was there. He pulled her close and kissed her, right on the mouth, mooshing his lips against hers. The crowd oohed. Ezaara shoved him away. Old Bill put a pile of grimy coppers into Lofty’s hand. Lofty punched his fist in the air.
How dare he! Her first kiss—some shrotty smooch, for a bet? Ezaara’s cheeks burned. Half the village had been gawking. She snatched up her basket. Market was only a few days each moon—a nice change from healing people with Ma—but Lofty had just ruined it.
A bellow rang out. “Is that those twins again?” Klaus strode through the scattering crowd. A head taller than most, and as wide as a draft horse, he was the settlement’s arbitrator.
Lofty slipped away. The coward.
“Tomaaz. Ezaara.” Klaus put his hands on his hips.
Some villagers, pretending to be busy, glanced their way. Others stared outright.
“It’s my fault.” Tomaaz squared his shoulders. “I challenged her.”
“In the middle of the marketplace?” Klaus glared. “You could have taken out a littling’s eye.”
Whoops, she hadn’t thought of littlings. Ezaara held up her sword. “Our tips were corked and the blades aren’t sharpened.”
Klaus examined Ezaara’s sword with his thumb and finger. “In any case, you shouldn’t have—”
“She tricked Tomaaz,” Old Bill, the traveling merchant, called, “fighting sneaky, like a dragon rider.”
As low as a dragon rider? Why was Bill mentioning dragons? Especially in front of Klaus. Was he trying to get her into trouble?
Klaus spun on Bill. “I only let you trade here if you keep our rules. If I hear you mention those filthy winged killers and their stinking riders again, you’ll be acquainting yourself with our jail.”
Old Bill glared at Ezaara. She shivered. He gave her the creeps.
Klaus pointed a blunt finger at Tomaaz. “No f
ighting in the marketplace.”
“Sorry, sir, it won’t happen again,” Tomaaz replied.
Ezaara mumbled her apologies too.
“They knocked over my cloth,” Old Bill protested.
“Help Bill to tidy up.” Klaus threw a last glare at them and went back to his leatherwork.
Old Bill rubbed his hands together. “So, kissed by Lofty, eh?”
Ezaara wrinkled her nose at his fetid breath. The sooner they were finished, the better.
Tomaaz stared at Bill in disgust. “I can’t believe you put Lofty up to that. I mean, he’s liked her for ages, and now he’s blown it. There’s no way my sister’s going to like him back now.”
Ezaara rolled her eyes. “Would you two stop talking about me as if I’m not here?”
Tomaaz continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Come on, Bill, you should’ve bet Lofty a silver.”
Men! Ezaara punched his arm. “Come on, let’s get this cleaned up.” She picked up a roll of green cloth and dumped it on Old Bill’s trestle table. “Good morning, Lovina.” Would she answer today?
No, as usual, Bill’s daughter, Lovina, ignored her, staring at the ground, lank hair covering her face.
Tomaaz threw most of the bolts on the table, then wandered off.
Ezaara held the last bolt for a moment, rubbing the sea-blue cloth. She’d been admiring it earlier. She’d never seen the sea, but if it was anything like the rippling pattern of blues flowing across this fabric …. She sighed, placing it on the table. Maybe one day she’d see the real ocean.
Old Bill leaned over the stand, his gnarled hand plucking at Ezaara’s sleeve like a roach clinging to a table cloth. “You’ll like this.” He opened his jerkin and pulled out a scrap of black cloth covered in vivid patterns. “Look.” It was beautiful.
Bronze Dragon, A Riders of Fire prequel novelette Page 5
