Handel stalked the clearing. Tomaaz and Pa prowled around, bows nocked, keeping an eye out for tharuks.
“Monte Vista, where I grew up, is an hour’s flight away. We’re near where I first met Handel.” Pa’s brow furrowed as he paced past Erob.
A few weeks ago, Pa had told Ezaara the story of how his sister, Evelyn, had been killed at the hands of tharuks near the foot of the Terramites. Was Pa remembering his sister too? She jabbed the needle back through Erob’s skin.
At last, Ezaara was done. “His guts are on the inside now. Let’s get him back to Dragons’ Hold.”
“Erob. Please, son, wake up,” Zaarusha begged. Her desperate attempts to meld with the dying dragon yielded nothing.
Ezaara strode to Erob’s head. “Adelina, hold the corner of his lip up.” She jammed a vial of piaua between his fangs and tipped. Erob swallowed. Thank the Egg.
“We have to get the nets under Erob,” Ezaara said. “Zaarusha, Handel, if you roll him, we can slide them under halfway, then we’ll have to roll him back to pull the nets through. Hopefully the stitches will hold.”
A gust of air few from Erob’s nostrils. “Ezaara?”
“Erob, You’re awake.”
“Barely,” he answered weakly.
Ezaara’s eyes stung. “We’re using Roberto’s fishing nets to carry you home.”
“A dragon-fish?” Erob attempted a weak chuckle, but it turned into a splutter.
“More like a fish out of water,” she answered, motioning the others into place. “We have to move you to get the nets under you. It’ll hurt, but please hold on.”
“Now,” Ezaara commanded.
Zaarusha and Handel squatted and pushed against Erob’s side, rolling his injured belly off the ground. Still melded, Ezaara felt the wave of pain rippling through his wound. Scrambling between their limbs, Adelina, Tomaaz and Pa unrolled the net, pushing it under Erob’s belly as far as they could.
They gently lowered Erob back down onto the nets.
“The hardest part will be to hold him while we pull the nets through,” Ezaara said. Tomaaz, Pa and Adelina joined her on the other side, faces grim in the flickering torchlight.
They positioned themselves, ready to grab the nets as Handel and Zaarusha rolled Erob. The dragons shoved.
“I see the nets.” Tomaaz darted under Erob’s belly to grab one end. Pa, Adelina and Ezaara crawled under to help. Crouched under the dragon’s bulk, groping for the nets in the dark, Ezaara realized what a far cry this life was from the innocent sheltered life she’d led in Lush Valley.
“A far better life,” Zaarusha mind-melded. “What you’re doing now matters. You’ve already saved the lives of many—including mine and Roberto’s.”
Ezaara could feel the strain of lifting Erob in Zaarusha’s thoughts. “Can you hold him?”
“Only for a few moments longer.”
“The dragons need us to be quick,” Ezaara said, tugging a length of net and flattening it.
“My part’s done.” Adelina scrambled out of the away.
“Mine too,” Pa called, crawling out between Handel’s limbs to safer ground.
“This end’s stuck,” Tomaaz called. “Ezaara, can you give me a hand?”
Ezaara slipped along to his end of the net and yanked it. “Handel, Zaarusha, a little higher.”
The dragons strained and pushed Erob further.
Erob let out a moan that made Ezaara’s skin crawl. “Shards, we’re hurting him.”
“Fast!” Zaarusha’s mental voice trembled. “I can’t hold him.”
Ezaara yanked. Suddenly, the net was free. She sprawled on her backside under Erob’s descending belly.
“Move. I’m slipping,” Zaarusha barked, talons scrabbling in the stones.
Tomaaz’s strong hands pulled Ezaara backward as Erob’s bulk landed right where she’d been.
Gasping for breath, she stared at Tomaaz. “That was close.”
He nodded and swallowed. “Dragon squash—never grew that on our farm, did we?”
Behind them, twigs cracked and a low snarl came from the trees. As quick as a starving dragonet, Adelina snatched up her bow and fired. A yell sounded. Pa nocked his bow, too, aiming for dark shadows among the trees. Handel gusted flame at the tharuks.
Zaarusha mind-melded, “Ezaara, we have to go.” She snatched up the net on one side of Erob. “Handel, take the other side. Ezaara, tell everyone we’re leaving.”
“To the dragons. Let’s go,” Ezaara yelled.
Pa and Adelina ran to Handel, but a beast leaped out of the trees, straight for Tomaaz. He slashed with his sword.
Shards! More tharuks were nearly upon him. Ezaara fired an arrow into a beast’s neck, then slung her bow over her back and ran at the tharuks. She swung her sword, connecting with flesh, fur and bone. More and more beasts were pouring out of the forest. “Tomaaz, too many tharuks. We have to go.” Ezaara ducked a tharuk’s claws and parried. “Hurry, now.”
They raced to Zaarusha, two tharuks on their heels. As they scrambled onto Zaarusha’s back, Handel blasted the beasts.
Roars and snarls broke out as tharuks ran at them.
Handel and Zaarusha grasped the net on their respective sides of Erob’s body and flapped, lifting him off the ground. “Quick, the rings. He’s no lightweight,” Zaarusha melded.
Ezaara and Pa rubbed the rings, calling Anakisha’s name. With a pop, the snarling beasts and smoldering tharuks disappeared.
Anakisha floated toward them, surrounded by golden light.
“Liesar, we have Erob,” Ezaara mind-melded.
“Quick, Anakisha, to Dragons’ Hold,” Hans called. “Erob is dying.”
§
Marlies paced on the ledge outside the infirmary. Her needles and squirrel gut thread were ready on a small table. She’d also prepared clean herb infusion—which Liesar kept warming every time it cooled—vials of piaua, and limplock remedy in case Erob had been poisoned. All they needed now was Erob. What was taking Ezaara, Tomaaz and Hans so long? With instantaneous travel, they should’ve returned ages ago. The torch stuttered in a chill wind that rippled across the basin. She stopped to gaze out over Dragons’ Hold.
Something strange was going on. A dragon master was stuck in Death Valley, yet no rescue party had been sent. The council hadn’t refused to rescue Roberto, but they hadn’t acted yet. Why would they leave one of their own, a master with highly valuable skills, in Death Valley? She tugged her jerkin closer around her and went into their quarters next to the infirmary to fetch a cloak. Cold affected her more since she’d returned from Death Valley two moons ago. And fatigue.
Lately, she was always tired.
When she’d taken the blue piaua berries and sunk into a deep coma to prevent Zens from torturing her, she’d never realized that it would leave her with bone-deep tiredness that she could never shake. On the outside, no one guessed. Since she’d been reinstated as Master Healer, she fulfilled her duties, but exhaustion dogged her. Throwing her cloak over her shoulders, Marlies paced through the infirmary.
“Marlies, Erob’s coming,” Liesar melded from the ledge.
Marlies strode out to the ledge. What she saw made her blood freeze.
Erob was suspended in the nets between Handel and Zaarusha, but below him hung a tharuk. Clinging to the bottom of the nets with one hand, it was sawing at the ropes with its dagger. Any moment now, Erob would plunge to his death.
“Liesar, there’s a tharuk on board.” Marlies ran to the infirmary, snatched her bow and arrows. “Tell Handel and Zaarusha to hold right there. I’m getting weapons.”
“Done.”
She raced back to the ledge. Shards. In the flickering torchlight, with the dragons fighting to keep Erob aloft, the tharuk was swinging like a rag doll. She couldn’t get a clean shot.
The beast drew its dagger back and plunged it into Erob’s belly wound. Erob bellowed in pain.
Marlies loosed her arrow.
The tharuk thudded to the ledge, i
ts knife skittering across the stone. Marlies kicked the monster’s body off the ledge and it thunked down the mountainside to the basin.
The fraying nets ripped.
“Support Erob,” she melded to Liesar.
Liesar dived under the hole in the net, using her body to help ease Erob to the stone.
Ezaara sprang down off Zaarusha. “He has a belly wound, blood loss, is dehydrated and may have an infection.”
Erob was listless, his scales fading. “Ezaara, check the rest of his body for wounds or arrow marks in case he’s been limplocked. I need water.”
“I’ll get some.” Adelina dashed into the infirmary.
“What should I do?” Tomaaz asked. Shoulders slumped, he looked ready to collapse.
“Go and lie down and rest that hip,” Marlies said, taking the water from Adelina.
She dampened the wound. It was a ragged gash, weeping yellow pus. Marlies cut the stitches with her surgical knife. Ezaara bathed Erob’s exposed gut with clean herb. Marlies lifted back the edges of the wound and swabbed the pus away. They made a good team, working quickly and efficiently. If she wasn’t Queen’s Rider, Ezaara would have made a wonderful healer.
A low growl built in Erob’s throat.
“Adelina,” Marlies said, “please soothe him. The last thing I need is an irate dragon thrashing around.”
The young girl placed her hand on the great blue dragon’s snout, eyes shiny with tears. Zaarusha crooned to her son, resting her snout on his shoulder. Soon, Erob’s growls turned to whimpers.
Hans and Ezaara kept Marlies replenished with clean herb, but Ezaara seemed distracted and pensive.
“Hans,” Marlies mind-melded. “What happened tonight? Ezaara seems off-color.”
“I expect she’s just tired. We fought off a couple of tharuk troops.”
“Maybe that’s it. Pass the piaua, please.” Marlies wasn’t convinced. Something was eating at her daughter, but she had bigger things to worry about with a dying dragon on her hands.
Death Valley
With every swab of Erob’s belly, every dose of clean herb, and each drop of piaua, Ezaara wondered whether Roberto had similar wounds. Was he lying somewhere in Death Valley, his blood staining Zens’ floor? Was Zens battering his mind and crushing his will?
Zens delighted in brutality. Each moment in the evil commander’s presence lessened Roberto’s chance of survival.
She couldn’t delay any longer. If the council didn’t want to act, then she would. “Zaarusha, you saw tharuks dragging Erob across jagged stones. They nearly killed him,” Ezaara mind-melded. “They’ll kill Roberto too. I can’t leave him with Zens.”
“My son is gravely wounded, Ezaara.”
“We’ll go when Erob has been healed. I still have Anakisha’s ring, so we’ll be quick. No one will miss us.”
“Mother.” Erob’s voice was weak in Ezaara and Zaarusha’s minds. “Save Roberto … please.”
“My heart is heavy, Ezaara,” Zaarusha said. “Roberto’s already offered his life twice for us: once when he was banished in your stead; and again when Ajeuria attacked me. We’ll go, and answer to the council once we fetch him home.” Zaarusha placed a wing over Erob’s back, protectively. “But before we do, we must participate in Erob’s healing circle.”
“Of course. I’d do anything to help Erob.” Ezaara burned to leave, but they couldn’t abandon Erob.
They all stood around Erob in a ring, dragons interspersed with their riders, hands on hides, with Marlies touching Erob. Ezaara watched Handel’s bronze sathir stream through Hans and into Zaarusha, whose multi-colored energy soared around Ezaara, then flowed into Liesar, mingling with her silver glow. Silver light flowed through Ma’s hands into Erob. His scales grew darker, healthier. His sathir deepened in color until it was midnight blue.
After what seemed like forever, Erob opened his golden eyes, fixing them on Ezaara.
Ezaara mind-melded with him. “Thank the Egg, you’re better. We’re going to get Roberto, in secret. What do you know that could help us find him?”
Hope gave Erob’s voice strength. “They took him over Devil’s Gate. That’s all I know. Find him, Ezaara and Mother. Find my rider.”
Ezaara inclined her head, and she climbed upon Zaarusha.
“Ezaara,” called Ma. “You look tired. Do get some rest.”
“Good idea. Thanks, Ma,” Ezaara replied. A great idea, but not one she’d be using tonight.
Zaarusha leapt off the ledge and they flew across the dark basin. Ezaara chewed some freshweed while they soared, waiting for the blue guard patrol to fly past. When no one was watching, she rubbed Anakisha’s ring, whispering, “Kisha,” and they disappeared.
Once more, they faced Anakisha.
“Anakisha, we have to find Master Roberto,” Ezaara said, sharing a memory of his face. “He’s in Death Valley. Please send us near Devil’s Gate.”
With a crack, Zaarusha and Ezaara appeared above a mountain with a crude watchtower on it.
“This is Devil’s Gate.” Zaarusha said. “Your mother sneaked past here, injured, only to be captured down the other side. I’ll drop you on the next peak over.” Zaarusha winged away.
Tharuks shouted below.
“Do you think they’ve seen us?” Ezaara asked.
“For your sake, I hope not.” Zaarusha landed down the far side of the next peak. “Just in case, wear the cloak Roberto gave you,” the queen said. “It’s magicked. When you pull it around you, you’ll be invisible and leave no scent.”
Ezaara pulled the cloak on, hugged Zaarusha’s neck, and sped up the slope.
Zaarusha took to the sky. “Find Roberto, Ezaara, but remember, if it gets too dangerous, get out.”
Near the crest of the hill, Ezaara dropped to her belly and crept forward, peering between rocks at two tharuks warming their hands over a fire. Slinking off, she picked her way through the snowy terrain down a rocky trail.
A guttural voice cut through the night. “Bill sees shadow in sky. Now we climb up here. Not fair. Our patrol finished.”
Tharuks were coming up the trail. Ezaara slunk behind a rock, pulling her cloak around her, heart pounding. Old Bill from Lush Valley had been a tharuk spy. Were they talking about the same Bill?
“Quiet,” snarled another tharuk, tromping uphill. “Bill will hear you. Want Zens’ reward?”
“Not reward. Not me. After reward, 378 dead.”
“Said quiet.” A grunt of pain followed.
An answering roar came from up the trail. Close, too close. She was trapped between two groups. Gods, she needed a better hiding place. Ezaara scurried, half sliding down the track. Perhaps there was somewhere around that next bend.
An overpowering stench wafted on the breeze—tharuks were around the next corner. What was that shadow on the cliff? She scrambled over to a deep fissure with dirty churned-up snow at the entrance—well-used, but her only chance.
A spine-chilling snarl echoed from around the bend. Neck hair standing on end, Ezaara plunged into the fissure, tugging her cloak around her.
Inside, candle stubs flickered in recesses in the rock, casting light and leaping shadows. A tunnel network led deep inside the mountain. She dashed on. What in the Egg’s name was she doing? She could be heading right for Zens.
A guffaw echoed off the rock behind her, answered by snorts and heavy boots.
Ezaara raced deeper into the tunnel, squeezed into a crevasse, and froze, tugging her cloak around her. Not a moment too soon.
“Troop, stop,” a tharuk bellowed. “Tracker come here. Smell something?”
Snuffling came from the fissure’s mouth. “No, sir,” a throaty voice replied. “Just rats, like always.”
Rats, just what she needed. Thank the dragon gods for freshweed and her cloak.
Hours passed. Every time Ezaara was about to sneak out to find Roberto, boots echoed along the tunnel.
It must be deep in the night by now. She had to find another exit, and find Roberto
. Ezaara crawled deeper into the tunnel. Chinks in the left wall spilled light, illuminating a fork. Scraping her hands and knees, she headed along the left passage. At least she could see along here. The tunnel narrowed.
A scream rent the air.
Her blood froze. Roberto.
His next scream made her scalp crawl.
She pressed her eye to a chink in the rock. A wall of dark fur was in front of her, its edges limned in yellow light—a tharuk. The beast raised a whip and lashed out.
Roberto’s scream ripped through Ezaara. She bunched her fists.
The beast struck again with the lash, and Roberto grunted in pain.
“Enough fun for tonight, Triple Zero,” an icy voice said. “Tomorrow, we’ll play with your sharp little toys.”
The tharuk laughed.
Zens—she was sure of it. His voice gave Ezaara icy chills. This was the sadist who’d thrown Ma around the room with the force of his mind, breaking her will to live. He’d ruined Roberto’s childhood, scarring him. And destroyed thousands of her people. The man who enslaved innocents. The man who’d created an army of monsters.
And Roberto was with him.
Fear crept its icy fingers up her spine.
Ezaara submerged her thoughts, going deep within herself. Thank the Egg, she’d practiced every day since Roberto had taught her.
The tharuk stalked across the cavern. Now she could see. Roberto was chained by a wrist and ankle to the rock, his head lolling on his shoulder.
000 hung its whip on the wall next to spiked metal implements and wicked knives—its sharp little toys.
A beautifully-manicured hand came into view, palm facing Roberto. Although the hand was body-lengths away, Roberto’s head shot back, slamming against the wall, his eyes bulging. He thrashed, gurgling, grasping at his throat.
Ezaara clamped her teeth on her lip, drawing blood. Her knuckles scraped stone.
“See, Roberto? I control the very air you breathe,” Zens said in a silky-smooth voice. He stepped into view, his back to Ezaara. “I say whether you breathe. When I’ve broken you, I’ll determine what you think. I’ll own you. And you’ll do my bidding.” He dropped his hand, the muscles in his arm and broad back flexing with latent power.
Dragon Rift: Riders of Fire, Book Three - A Dragons’ Realm Novel Page 7