Dragon Rift: Riders of Fire, Book Three - A Dragons’ Realm Novel

by Eileen Mueller

  Fenni pushed the fireball out of the river, into the air, but it vanished.

  “It takes high-level mastery to switch between elements,” said Master Giddi. “Down you go again.”

  Weeds swirled around him as he settled on the riverbed. Flame it, he had to prove himself. When his fireball was a seething mass of molten flame, he kicked off bottom. Weeds brushed his legs as the fire roiled, shooting toward the surface. He could do this.

  Something yanked Fenni’s legs, nearly pulling his hips from his sockets. Tendrils were tangled around his calves. He kicked, but the weeds gripped tighter, dragging him down. His lungs strained. Was Master Giddi testing him? Using sathir, he thrust the fireball upward. It broke the surface then fell back, sizzling in the water. He’d done it. Now, Master Giddi would free him.

  The stranglehold on his legs tightened, his flesh searing. Fenni snatched at the tendrils, trying to pull himself free. More weeds snaked out of the murky water, wrapping around his arms, his chest and neck. His chest spasmed. He was losing air. This was no test from Master Giddi. It was a strangleton.

  Reeled down like a hooked fish, Fenni thrashed. The monster plant’s grip constricted, threatening to squeeze the last air from his lungs. Fenni tensed his chest. His muscles burned, screaming at him to open his mouth and breathe in the muddy water. By the dragon gods, he’d never avenge Uncle Fennock now. Desperate, he flung his remaining firepower at the strangleton before everything went black.

  §

  Light sneaked through a chink in the tent door. Fenni rubbed his eyes and tried to sit up, but pain shot across his chest and back. He pulled back the covers and lifted his shirt. Angry red marks scored his chest and sides, and he ached all over.

  On the bedroll next to him, Master Giddi stirred. “About time you woke.”

  Not a word about what had happened. Shards, his master was tough. “That was a strangleton. I nearly drowned.”

  “Your fireball was a great signal. Good thinking. I was fighting a tharuk tracker or I would’ve got to you quicker. Sorry.” His master tossed him a pot of healing salve. “Here, rub this on your chest and legs. I’ll do your back when you’re done.”

  Fenni smeared salve on his chest, breathing in peppermint. “Last night, you said there were no tharuks around.”

  Giddi’s gaze was fierce beneath his dark, bushy eyebrows. “Well, I was wrong, wasn’t I?” He rolled up his bedding with sharp angry movements, muttering, “Often happens, sometimes with disastrous consequences. You’re lucky you’re alive.”

  “How?” Fenni massaged the salve into his aching legs.

  “You seared the thing’s tentacles off with fire, but I had to fish you out.” Giddi tied his bedding with a short length of rope. “You’ve mastered fire, by the way. Although more practice never hurt anyone. Let me look at your chest.” Master Giddi grunted and lifted Fenni’s shirt, prodding his livid bruising. “Luckily, nothing’s broken. How are you feeling?”

  “Sore.” Fenni sighed. “I messed up, didn’t I?”

  “To the contrary. I’m happy with your progress. You survived a strangleton—something few can claim.” Giddi shooed Fenni out of the tent and rolled up his bedding.

  Fenni chuckled. His master must be concerned if he was packing up his gear.

  Giddi’s head appeared at the tent door. “If you’re laughing, you’re well enough to help. Here, throw these in the saddlebags.”

  Fenni caught the bedrolls, groaning.

  “And while you’re at it, give me a hand to roll this tent up.” Giddi snapped his fingers at their fireplace. Within the ring of stones, green wizard flame licked at the wood, and soon, a fire was blazing.

  Fenni filled a pot at the river and put it on the fire, sprinkling oats, herbs and cheese chunks in the water.

  “That’ll be a hearty wizard porridge, Fenni,” Master Giddi mumbled, shaping the fire’s flames into dragons, their fiery tongues licking at the base of the pot until the porridge was bubbling.

  “How did you do that?”

  “This?” Master Giddi waved a hand and the fiery dragons circled the pot and disappeared in a shower of sparks. His control over mage flame was absolute. “Years of underwater practice.”

  Fenni sighed. He was such a raw beginner. At the last trials, he’d covered up by excelling with water and wind, but he couldn’t do that now. These wizard duels were his final trial. If he didn’t show he’d mastered fire, the wizard council would never let him fight tharuks on his own.

  After they’d eaten, they swung onto their horses. “We’ll be at Mage Gate later today,” Master Giddi said. “You can practice on horseback on the way. But whatever you do, don’t harm the spangles. They don’t like rogue mage flame.”

  “So it’s true.” Fenni trailed Master Giddi through the trees. “There are spangles in Great Spanglewood Forest.”

  “Of course there are, my boy.”

  At seventeen summers, Fenni was hardly a boy, but he wasn’t about to argue. “And is it true they’re magic?”

  “Aye.” Master Giddi guided his horse to the foot of a hill.

  Rocks rose steeply on either side of the trail as they started the trek over the pass that cut through the northern end of Great Spanglewood Forest. Fenni glanced behind them as they left the tree line. Spangles? Then how come none of the trees glimmered the way the legends said they would? Was his master telling him a tall tale? Or was he serious?

  Gossip

  Ezaara’s body slammed against the wall, the back of her skull cracking on stone. Hot blood trickled down her neck. She woke, soaked in sweat, panting.

  She clutched the crystal at her neck—warm against her fingers and skin. Soothing. Her nightmares were so vivid—as if she were living them. But in them, she wasn’t herself. Her hands were different. Her limbs were rangier, and she felt more solid. Like she was experiencing the world through someone else’s body.

  She was so tired. Zens stalked her dreams, never letting her sleep—but it was nothing compared to what Roberto would be going through. She had to convince the council to rescue him before it was too late. Ezaara flipped back the covers and got out of bed, shivering in her sweat-drenched nightdress.

  “You need a hot bath to soothe you,” Zaarusha melded. “The council members are still sleeping, so you have time.” She snaked her head through the archway and shot flames at the pile of wood under Ezaara’s bathtub, then breathed on the water and the outside of the metal tub.

  “Thank you, Zaarusha, you take such good care of me.” Ezaara rubbed Zaarusha’s snout.

  The queen butted Ezaara’s stomach. “You’re doing your best to take care of Dragons’ Realm. I need you at my side.”

  “And I need Roberto at mine.”

  “We’ll get him, but I’d rather have the sanction of the council than have you fighting them. If we’re going to defeat Zens we need to be united.”

  Ezaara pulled off her nightdress and climbed into the steaming water. “And if they won’t rescue him?”

  “They will.” Zaarusha’s scales bristled. “And if they don’t, we’ll go together.”

  An hour later, Ezaara was seated in the council meeting. Absently, she clutched her pendant. It was cool now, not warm at all. Roberto’s bloodied face flashed to mind.

  Tonio’s gaze sharpened, resting upon the crystal at her neck. “That’s an interesting bauble. Where did you get it?”

  Everyone stared at her necklace. Ezaara didn’t like his carefully-casual tone. She tucked the necklace back under her jerkin. Had Tonio recognized the Naobian craftsmanship? Did he suspect Roberto had given it to her? “My jewelry is immaterial to the matter at hand. We’ve called this council meeting to discuss rescuing Master Roberto from Death Valley.”

  “Thank you, my honored Queen’s Rider.” Lars nodded, formally. “Erob is home, as we desired, however, he’s still recovering from his injuries. This afternoon, when he’s rested, Master Tonio will mind-meld with Erob and Maazini to gather information regarding Roberto’s captu
re. This is of utmost priority.”

  The spymaster nodded. “My honored Queen’s Rider and council, we must rescue Master Roberto as soon as possible.”

  Ezaara’s jaw snapped shut. She’d been ready to fight them, all her arguments lined up: how Tonio had insisted Roberto go; the value of Roberto’s role on the council; how she could guide them to the right place in Death Valley …

  Now Tonio agreed with her?

  Lars nodded. “I concur. All in favor of Roberto’s rescue, raise their hands.”

  Everyone’s hand shot up. Good, the decision was unanimous. They could leave after Tonio had melded with the dragons. It would be best to sneak in after dusk, like she had yesterday. Maybe they needed more invisibility cloaks. Who would be the best to go? And how many? Just a few so they could still sneak in, but enough so that if they were discovered they could fight their way out.

  “How will we rescue him?” asked Aidan, the battle master. “We can’t afford a heavy loss.”

  True, but he spoke as if Roberto wasn’t a loss already. Yet every day was empty without him.

  “Agreed. It’s imperative that we prepare for war,” Lars said. “We must also qualify the Queen’s Rider. Our people need confidence that she is at the helm, leading us.”

  Leading? What a joke.

  “We’ll have our official race in six days and Ezaara’s feast afterward,” Lars continued. “That’ll give the new riders time to practice flying. Meanwhile, we have the imprinting ceremony today. Because Roberto, our master of mental faculties and imprinting, isn’t here, Ezaara will need to greet the new riders and help Master Alyssa train them.”

  Alyssa smiled. “Ezaara, your help would be valuable. As one of our most accomplished riders, you must pass on your knowledge.”

  Master Aidan steepled his fingers. “Yes, we need our new riders ready for battle. We don’t want them or their dragons injured.”

  “We must develop their sword and archery drills,” said Derek, master of instruction. “And dragonback archery. If they can see Ezaara, one of our newest riders, excelling, it will inspire them to train harder.”

  “This makes sense, Ezaara,” Zaarusha mind-melded. “We must better our chances in this upcoming war against whatever Zens will unleash on us.”

  “But wait,” said Master Tonio, eyes on Ezaara again, “We seem to have forgotten the Queen’s Rider’s request. When will we rescue Master Roberto?”

  “Why, after the race day feast,” said Aidan. “Training our new riders must be top priority, and ensuring the Queen’s Rider qualifies.”

  Tonio smiled. “Great idea.”

  What? He’d manipulated the council into delaying. That shrotty weasel.

  Lars rapped his gavel. “It’s decided, then. In six days, after the feast, a small group will travel to Death Valley to ascertain how we’ll rescue Master Roberto.”

  Around Ezaara, masters rose. Ma rushed over and kissed her on the cheek. “I must go, honey. I have to check Erob and Maazini.”

  Ezaara nodded. “Master Lars,” she said, keeping her voice down. “The race is in six days. Anything could happen to Master Roberto in that time.” There, that was just about right—concerned, but not brimming with emotion.

  Lars gazed at her frankly. “I understand your concern, but if Zens had wanted to kill Roberto, he would’ve done so already. We have a war to prepare for. Master Roberto would want us to focus on the realm first, him second. As Queen’s Rider, I’m sure you understand balancing the needs of thousands against one. We will rescue him. It’s just going to take a little longer than you’d like.” Lars patted her shoulder, as if she was a littling. “Let’s prepare for imprinting. There’s a lot to do.” He followed the others out of the chamber.

  Ezaara slumped back into her chair, studying the flecks in the horseshoe-shaped granite table. She’d been played by an expert. By agreeing with her so early in the council meeting, Tonio had disarmed her. Surprised, she’d laid aside all her carefully prepared arguments. And then he’d tromped in, making sure everyone was busy, preparing for war.

  They’d promised to rescue Roberto in six days. She’d make sure it happened.

  “Ezaara.”

  She snapped her head up, unaware that anyone had remained in the chamber. “Pa?”

  He paced to her chair. “You don’t seem yourself. I know you’ve the realm on your shoulders.”

  She sighed. “Yes, there’s that.”

  Pa put an arm around her. “I missed you yesterday. Where were you?”

  So, Lars and Tonio hadn’t told anyone else.

  “Zaarusha and I had urgent business.”

  “You could’ve told—”

  “The dragon queen approved my whereabouts,” Ezaara snapped.

  His face fell.

  Oh shards, she hadn’t meant to hurt Pa. “How’s Erob?” she asked, softening her voice.

  “Exhausted. He’s lost a lot of blood.” Pa rubbed his hands on his breeches. “That necklace Tonio mentioned, may I see it?”

  It was a gift from Roberto, personal. She hadn’t meant to wear it outside her jerkin. “Uh, I’d rather not, if you don’t mind. It’s just a trinket.”

  “A trinket? I doubt it,” Pa replied. “It looked like Anakisha’s dream catcher.”

  “Anakisha’s dream catcher? No, I’m sure you’re mistaken.”

  “It went missing years ago. The wearer can tune into another’s mind while they’re sleeping, sensing their thoughts.” Pa shook his head. “Whoever gave it to you must’ve stolen it.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Or perhaps they bought it from a market,” he said hurriedly. “I didn’t mean to disparage anyone. It could be an imitation. Who did you say gave it to you?” His brow furrowed.

  “I didn’t.” Ezaara faced Pa, forcing herself to breathe steadily.

  “You may be Queen’s Rider, Ezaara, but you’re still our daughter.” Pa shook his head sadly and left.

  “I know.” A tear slid down Ezaara’s cheek as the double chamber doors boomed shut behind him. “But there are some things I can’t even share with you,” she whispered.

  §

  Lovina held the boy in her arms. the steady motion of the rocking chair comforting him. His body was all sharp angles and poky bits, but then again, so was hers. You didn’t bounce back overnight after years as a slave in Death Valley. She hummed a Flatlander tune under her breath, the one her mother had sung when she was little. Slowly, her memories were returning.

  Tomaaz was out flying, training on perimeter patrol, so he’d asked her to sit with the boy.

  “You’re so patient,” Ajeurina melded.

  “That’s what he needs. It’s hard adjusting to all the sights and sounds after being numlocked.” She gave the rocking chair another push. “And to being loved.” That had been strange, but now a dragon in her head?

  “If I ever catch Bill or those tharuks that beat you ….” Ajeurina shared an image of furry bodies being tossed into the air.

  She smiled. Even though Ajeurina was in the den next door, outside the infirmary, they’d been chatting for most of the morning. The lad had been sleeping better since Tomaaz had come home, but still hadn’t spoken. Lovina kept humming Ma’s tune, breaking into the words on the second verse. The lad’s lake blue eyes were fastened on her face the whole time.

  “I’m going to hunt. Would you like to come?”

  “I don’t think the boy would like it.”

  “You could always ask him.”

  “Good idea.” Lovina stopped singing. She was about to speak when the boy placed a hand on her cheek and hummed the refrain.

  Hope surged in Lovina’s chest, making her want to shout with joy. “You want me to keep singing?”

  Eyes solemn, he nodded.

  She hummed a few more bars, and he joined in. “So, you know this song?”

  Another nod.

  Lovina barely dared breathe. “Are you from the Flatlands, too?”

  “Yes.” His whisper
was barely audible

  “Which village?” She held her breath.

  “Waykeep,” he croaked, his voice rusty.

  A small village smack in the middle of the Flatlands, at the crossroads. She brushed his hair back from his eyes. “Do you remember your name?” If they knew his name, maybe they could find his family. With his family, he’d have a better chance than she’d had.

  “Taliesin,” he murmured.

  §

  Adelina paced in her cavern. The world was too small, too confined. She wanted to hammer the stone and burst through the mountain. Grief and fear sunk their talons into her innards, twisting them. She needed to run, scream—something.

  Shards, she was supposed to be at the imprinting grounds soon. No dragon would choose her. Zaarusha hadn’t. What if she just wasn’t dragon rider material?

  Roberto had always told her she’d find a dragon, but with him captive to Zens, the world felt like a dangerous place, a place where the future couldn’t be trusted, where her smile wasn’t bright enough to overcome her troubles.

  Dragon’s claws! Now she was sniffing. Adelina backhanded a tear and tugged on her boots, yanking the laces hard. Zens had ruined her family: stolen her father, her brother, her mother’s life and now her brother again. But what could she do? She was just Adelina, the little sister of a master on the council. She’d never be able to make Dragons’ Realm a better place. For years she’d fooled herself that her smile and her bubbly attitude would make a difference—and it had, for Roberto, during his darkest moments. Now, he was gone.

  She flung herself on her bed. The last thing she felt like was seeing a bunch of people. And that was saying something. Usually she, Kierion and Lofty were the life and soul of the party.

  Adelina pummeled her pillow. Moping wasn’t going to fix anything. She’d find a sharding smile if it killed her. She strode to her door and flung it open, coming face to face with Mara, who had her hand raised to knock. Leah was behind Mara, brow creased with worry.

  “Oh, uh, come in,” Adelina said.

  “Adelina, we’re glad you’re here.” Mara dragged Leah through the doorway. “Snake-tongue’s gossip is getting worse.”