Riders of Fire Box Set

by Eileen Mueller

  “Dragons don’t protect Lush Valley.”

  “Why do you think no tharuks have ever come over the Grande Alps before?”

  Klaus was so wrong. Dragons didn’t destroy at all. The very dragons he’d despised had kept them safe—unseen, beyond the chain of alps that encircled Lush Valley’s wide basin—protecting the three villages cradled within: Southern Settlement, Lush Valley Settlement and Western Settlement.

  “Let’s light that beacon fire.” Ezaara frowned. “Will people know what it means?”

  Zaarusha replied, “Your father, Hans, will.”

  “First, we’ll bury these men.”

  “We could give them a funeral pyre,” Zaarusha suggested.

  “No, their families need to be able to find them.”

  Zaarusha dug a grave and Ezaara buried the men, shoveling icy dirt into the hole with numb hands. She found stones for a cairn, and plucked a pine branch, wedging it between the stones as a marker. If only she could’ve done more.

  Ezaara dragged a log back up to the pass, adding it to what was left of the warriors’ wood pile. Zaarusha ripped out dead trees and flew them up. Ezaara could’ve left the queen to collect the wood, but the burn of her muscles and the ache in her limbs paid tribute to these men who’d tried to protect the pass.

  Bit by bit, the pile grew.

  “That’s enough, Ezaara,” Zaarusha said. “It’ll be dark soon. Once I light this wood, the beacon will be seen for miles.”

  Ezaara wiped her brow, wrinkling her nose. The stench of tharuks made her gag, and the sight of them turned her stomach. “What are they? That black blood and rotten stench—they’re unnatural.”

  “Years ago, a powerful mage opened a world gate and let Commander Zens into Dragons’ Realm,” Zaarusha said. A vicious face loomed in Ezaara’s mind. She tried to block it out, but Zens’ enormous yellow eyes followed her. “Zens created an army of tharuks, without breeding them—the way we take a cutting to grow a plant. They do whatever he commands. They catch and enslave our folk and use plant extracts to make slaves submit to Zens’ will.” Zaarusha shared memories of tharuks in mining pits, whipping slaves who were only half alive—thin shells with deadened faces.

  Ezaara shuddered. “Throw the beasts on the fire, too. Erase every trace of them. This is not a funeral pyre to honor them—just their wretched bodies providing fuel to warn our people.”

  “My pleasure.” A ripple of feral satisfaction radiated from Zaarusha.

  When the fire was blazing, Ezaara clambered back into the saddle. Her back and arms ached and her feet were numb.

  “Come, it’s been a tough first day,” Zaarusha melded. “I know a place where we can rest.”

  Gripping the saddle, Ezaara closed her eyes, but couldn’t erase the images of the body-strewn snow. “We have to fight these beasts. Stop them slaughtering our people.”

  “I know, Ezaara,” Zaarusha said, “that’s why I need you.” Flipping her wings, she flew along the ridge. “Eighteen years ago, my last rider, Anakisha, my mate Syan, and his rider were lost in battle.”

  Zaarusha shared a memory.

  Zaarusha was wounded, roaring. Her rider slipped from her saddle and fell, dark hair flying and limbs sprawling, into a horde of tharuks. Claws out, the beasts swarmed over her. A massive black dragon dived into the midst of the monsters, his rider screaming, “Anakisha!” Syan thrashed his talons, sending monsters flying. Tharuks stabbed his belly and fired arrows into his wings, shredding them. His rider was dragged from the saddle and vanished under a pack of furry bodies. Bellowing, the dragon flamed tharuks, but for every beast he burned, three rushed forward. He lifted his tattered wings and flapped, rising, but a seething mass of tharuks grabbed onto his limbs, dragging him back to the ground.

  Zaarusha fled, her bellows of rage and anguish ricocheting through Ezaara.

  The queen’s raw agony swept through Ezaara, making her chest ache and her eyes prick. She’d only left her family behind. Zaarusha had lost everyone she loved.

  “Without my clutch of eggs to protect at Dragons’ Hold, I would’ve dived in and died too,” Zaarusha said. “I made the right choice. And now, I have you.”

  Ezaara reeled. “That could’ve been me, earlier, when I fell.”

  “Luckily, we were high enough for me to catch you. Riders have broken bones by not trusting their dragons and being too tense.”

  “I’m glad I didn’t know. That would’ve made it impossible to relax.”

  “There’s only one time when you shouldn’t trust me—if tharuks give me swayweed. This herb—”

  “—replaces love with hate, changing allegiance between men, or between man and beast,” Ezaara recited.

  “So, Marlies taught you well.” Zaarusha hesitated. “Don’t be scared by my past. We have a bright future together. I can sense it. Your name will be honored across Dragons’ Realm.”

  Except in Lush Valley. They’d never honor her there.

  Zaarusha dropped down a steep rocky face below the snow line, and landed on a broad scrubby plateau halfway down the mountainside. On the pass above them, the beacon was burning, barely visible in the gold and orange light of the setting sun.

  “Don’t worry, soon that fire will be blazing against the dark,” Zaarusha said. “Come, I want to show you something before night falls.” Zaarusha paced through scrub, entering a cave in the mountainside. She blew a small flame, lighting a torch in a wall sconce.

  A shelf lined the wall, with waterskins and jars of preserves on it. Below, barrels were lined up like warriors. Someone obviously kept this place well stocked.

  “A bed.” Ezaara slid off Zaarusha and sank down onto the pallet. “This looks so good right now.”

  “Wait, there’s something better.” Zaarusha went outside and gestured with her snout toward a track winding through the scrub. “Go on. Take a look.”

  Ezaara hesitated.

  “You’re safe here. Tharuks can’t climb down that sheer rock face or scale the cliff below.”

  Taking a deep breath, Ezaara leaned up and scratched Zaarusha’s eye ridge.

  The queen nudged her with her snout. “Enjoy yourself.”

  Ezaara followed the goat track through the tussock. The plateau was oddly fertile, given the granite cliff above. Thick grasses and scrub covered the area, with giant ferns towering over her. It was warmer here than up on the snow line, although in winter it would be decked in white. A hidden stream burbled nearby.

  The track angled toward the cliff, edged in lush vegetation. The stream was growing louder. Maybe Zaarusha was sending her for a drink of fresh water. The setting sun cast a golden hue over everything. A strange scent hung in the air. The stream was louder now, the gurgle reminding her of Lush Valley and all she’d left behind. Ezaara’s eyes burned. Not again. She’d cried enough today.

  Stepping through ferns, Ezaara came to the end of the track—and gasped.

  Misty tendrils rose off a narrow river flowing along the back of the plateau. But it wasn’t mist—it was steam. Ezaara crouched and dipped her hand in the water. She groaned. It was warm. Further along the cliff, a waterfall gushed out of a hole in the rock, steam wafting from it as it cascaded into the thermal river. The water smelled like old eggs, but she didn’t care. Shucking off her clothes, Ezaara climbed down the bank. She waded a few steps across the river and sat, leaning against the cliff, immersed to her shoulders.

  “Aah, Zaarusha. This is better than food and a bed. It’s wonderful.”

  “I knew you’d like it.” Zaarusha chuckled. “You can bathe, but don’t submerge your head or drink the water. It’s good for aches and pains, but rough on your stomach.”

  Ezaara wanted nothing more than to duck under and scrub the grime from her face, but instead, she leaned against the bank, gazing upward. The water soothed her aching back and shoulders as, one by one, stars winked at her from the dark sky. She craned her neck, trying to spot the beacon. She couldn’t see it, but hopefully Pa and Ma would.

&nb
sp; “Actually, Marlies may see the beacon, but she won’t be able to help anyone in Lush Valley. She’s leaving to help me recover something I lost.”

  “Zaarusha, stop being so cryptic. What’s going on?”

  “My son is missing. Tharuks captured him. As Queen, I can’t leave to look for him, so Marlies is searching for him.”

  So, Ma had a chance to redeem herself with Zaarusha. “Can you let Ma or Pa know that I’m safe?”

  “Sorry, we’re too far away to communicate with either of them.” Zaarusha gave a grunt that blew the tired cobwebs from Ezaara’s mind.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Just tired.”

  Something Zaarusha was saying didn’t add up. Ezaara clambered out of the water and tugged on her clothes and boots, not stopping to dry herself. She hurried back along the trail, guided by moonlight. When she came to the cavern, she understood. “Zaarusha, you’re hurt!” Ezaara rushed forward to examine a gash on Zaarusha’s foreleg.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “It was that tharuk leader, wasn’t it? I felt your pain when you grabbed him.” She’d been so overwhelmed, she’d forgotten.

  “That maggot-roach sunk its claws into me. But at least those tharuk scouts didn’t have any poison-tipped arrows with them. This is simply a cut.” Zaarusha flicked her tail, like an impatient cat.

  “You should’ve told me before I bathed,” Ezaara scolded out loud. It was strange to speak after mind-melding all day. “This is going to need stitches.” She took her needle and squirrel gut twine from her healer’s pouch and threaded it. “Hold still.” The needle was too small, so in the end Ezaara had to pierce Zaarusha’s hide with a knife from the cave and thread the twine through the holes to tug the edges of her wound tight.

  Zaarusha was stoic, not uttering a sound, but an image of her ripping apart the tharuk leader’s body repeatedly rushed through the queen’s mind. “Helps me manage pain,” Zaarusha admitted with a dragonly grin.

  When Ezaara was done, Zaarusha hooked a barrel toward her with her uninjured front limb. With a swipe of her talons, she pried the lid open. “Help yourself.”

  “Apples. How did they get here?”

  “Marlies’ dragon, Liesar, leaves supplies for our riders in hideouts across the realm.”

  So, Ma’s dragon was still alive. How could they bear to be parted? Actually, Ma had had no choice. Ezaara’s stomach grumbled. She took an apple and leaned against Zaarusha’s side to eat it, tossing apples from the barrel to Zaarusha, who snapped them down.

  Spiking an apple on a talon, Zaarusha toasted it with fire from her maw. “Here.”

  Juice ran down Ezaara’s chin. “Oh, so sweet.”

  “Are you full?” The queen eyed the barrel. “Mind if I finish these?”

  Ezaara took one more. “You can have the rest.”

  Zaarusha shoved her snout in the barrel, crunching and slurping until the apples were gone. Ezaara smothered a smile—sharing with a dragon wasn’t exactly one for one. Zaarusha curled up on the ledge. Ezaara dragged the pallet and blanket over near Zaarusha and lay down, but her mind was too busy to relax.

  “Sleep, Ezaara. We have a long journey ahead of us.” The queen folded a wing over her. “Let me tell you a legend to help you rest.”

  Ezaara closed her eyes.

  “In the beginning, there was the Egg. Not an ordinary egg, but the First Egg, which held the seed for all dragons. When the First Egg burst into a million shards, Dragons’ Realm was born …”

  Dragons’ Hold

  Roberto strode down the tunnel that connected the council chambers to his cavern, the thud of his boots echoing off the stone walls. As he rounded a corner, a familiar figure detached itself from the shadows.

  Adelina’s smiling face made the torchlight brighter—a welcome face after the council’s bickering. “Are you all right?” She hugged him.

  There were days, like today, when his sister was the only thing that kept him sane. “I’m fine. Just the usual—more arguing.” They walked along the tunnel toward her cavern.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t enjoy it.” She mock-punched his arm, grinning. “I thought you liked arguing. Well, you do with me.”

  Despite his mood, Roberto managed a weak chuckle.

  She arched her eyebrows. “What was it this time?”

  “Apparently, Handel has had word from Zaarusha that she’s imprinted with the new Queen’s Rider.”

  Her sharp intake of breath betrayed her. “Oh? Has she? I—”

  Oh, shards! “Adelina.” His voice softened. “We already knew it wasn’t you.”

  She swallowed. “I know. But I still held hope.” She gave him a too-bright smile. “It’s great news. It’s been eighteen years since Zaarusha had a rider. So, why were the council arguing?”

  “Because her rider was found in Lush Valley, of all places.”

  Adelina rolled her eyes. “Really?”

  Roberto rubbed the back of his neck, trying to dislodge the tension that had been building all night. “It’ll be some ignorant, backward clod, terrified of dragons.”

  “From a superstitious backwater, dealing with the likes of Lars and Tonio.” She shook her head. “And leading the council without knowing the politics here.”

  Exactly what he’d been thinking. “Tharuks haven’t even made it to Lush Valley. How could someone with no fighting or combat experience lead us in war? What was Zaarusha thinking?”

  “Maybe she was desperate for a rider after so many years alone.” Again, hurt flashed on Adelina’s face before she forced another smile. “It’s not our problem. Everything will work out.”

  Typical. She was already looking on the good side again. No wonder she kept him balanced. Stopping outside Adelina’s cavern, Roberto faced her. “It is my problem. I’ve been given the honor of training the new Queen’s Rider.” More of a burden than an honor.

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Why?”

  “Handel decided, for some unknown reason, and Lars and the council have ratified it, so the decision is binding. Zaarusha will be here tonight.”

  She grimaced.

  The unspoken words hung between them. He’d have to use his talents. “I’ll be fine.” He had to be. Roberto squeezed her shoulder, then strode down the tunnel toward his quarters.

  Huh! An ignorant settler from Lush Valley could be a traitor or a spy—someone Zens had turned without the queen or her rider knowing it. His job was to test this new rider, despite the memories that haunted him each time he had to perform his duty. He’d need to be thorough—for the realm, for Zaarusha. If there was the faintest hint that the Queen’s Rider wasn’t fit, Zaarusha would be seeking another.

  §

  Ezaara’s chin drooped to her chest. She jerked awake and clutched Zaarusha’s spinal ridge. The moon dragged fingertips across the tips of the forest below, not penetrating the dark mass. After three days and nights of flying with only short stops, her backside was sore and her shoulders ached. “How’s your leg doing?”

  “Much better. Thank you for stitching it,” Zaarusha thrummed. “We’ll be at Dragons’ Hold soon. We’re expected before dawn.”

  So, no chance of a decent sleep.

  “Yes, I mind-melded and told the blue guards about tharuks entering Lush Valley, and advised them that we’re coming.”

  “I didn’t realize you could mind-meld with everyone.”

  “I can only meld with other riders when they touch me, but I can meld with their dragons if they’re not too far away. They’re keen to meet the new Queen’s Rider.”

  Whoever ‘they’ were. “In the middle of the night?” Ezaara yawned. “If they’ve waited eighteen years, surely they can wait a few more hours.”

  Zaarusha snorted. “Your imprinting bond and loyalty must be tested.”

  “How?”

  “You’ll be fine. Just be yourself.”

  Fine? That was all right for Zaarusha to say—she wasn’t about to face a horde of blue dragons for the first time.


  They ascended a snowy mountainside, gliding above a summit. Moonlight caught on jagged peaks that formed a gaping maw around a dark basin.

  “These mountains are Dragon’s Teeth, the guardians of Dragons’ Hold,” Zaarusha said. “Flying is the only way in.”

  They swooped down, the basin swallowing them, and flew toward a mountain face, shooting through a tunnel into an enormous cavern.

  Inside, the air was filled with dragons, their sinuous necks weaving to stare at her with wild eyes. They swooped and dived past Zaarusha, grim-faced riders upon their backs. Bill’s scrap of cloth had been right—they were every color from emerald to blood red. Dragons snarled, flashing fangs. Their wings made torches sputter in their sconces, sending a chill down her spine.

  Zaarusha roared, the air reverberating, setting Ezaara’s teeth on edge. Her talons clattered on the granite floor. Twelve dragons landed, splayed in an arc on a rock platform that towered above Ezaara and the queen.

  Ezaara gripped the saddle tighter. The whole of their farm would fit in this cavern, several times over.

  The riders, women and men, dismounted, swords at their sides and dagger hilts peeking from their boots. They looked fierce. Intimidating. Wait, there were thirteen dragons. A bronze rider-less dragon was skulking in the shadows.

  A man stalked down from the platform, boots striking the stone steps, moving like a lethal predator. Unlike the men in Lush Valley. Confident. Dangerous. He bowed to Zaarusha, dark hair brushing his shoulders. “Welcome home, Honored Queen.” His hard, black eyes flicked over Ezaara. “I see you’ve brought your new rider for testing.”

  What a welcome. “What happens if I fail this test?” she fired at Zaarusha.

  “You’ll be banished to the Wastelands.”

  The Wastelands! “Banished? But I’m—”

  “I told you, you’ll be fine. Climb down, he’s waiting.”

  Ezaara slid out of the saddle, stumbling as her feet hit the ground.

  The man’s lips twitched into a sneer.

  She shrunk back, closer to Zaarusha, as all the stories she’d heard about killer dragons came flooding back to her. “Zaarusha—”