Dragon Hero: Riders of Fire, Book Two - A Dragons' Realm novel

by Eileen Mueller

  §

  Tomaaz raced into the clearing. He gasped huge mouthfuls of air, trying to get his breath back. What was Ma doing here? “Ma, I thought you were baking bread? Pa, how did you run so—” He broke off. There was a dragon in the sky above the forest. A dragon of many colors. “A dragon? Ezaara and I were just talking about—” His mother’s face was tear-streaked. “Why are you crying?”

  Her knife was embedded in the old piaua on the other side of the sacred clearing.

  “Your sister’s gone,” Pa said. “The dragon has taken her.”

  Pa wasn’t joking. Not with him and Ma so worked up. Not with that dragon in the distance.

  “Dragon! Dragon!” Cries rent the air.

  “It’s time we told him,” murmured Pa.

  Told him what?

  “I know,” Ma said, “but people are coming.”

  Voices yelled, “Dragon, over there.”

  Pa turned toward the trees. “They’re on the stepping stones. Klaus is already across. We don’t have long.”

  What? Pa could see through the forest to the river?

  Pa gripped Tomaaz’s arm. “You’re all we have now. Do exactly as I say.”

  “What’s going on?” A rock settled in Tomaaz’s stomach.

  “Don’t breathe a word of Ezaara’s disappearance. They’ll be here any moment. Trust us.”

  “But—” Tomaaz nodded. He had no choice.

  Pa pointed to the massive piaua. “Marlies, quickly.”

  Running to the tree, Ma yanked her knife out of its trunk and hid it in the leg of her breeches. Then she crushed a handful of piaua leaves, squeezing the juice into the gash on the tree’s trunk. “I will fulfill my quest, piaua tree, and regain my daughter, as witnessed by thee.” The piaua gave a shudder and the gash was gone.

  Piaua juice was strong, but Tomaaz had never imagined it could do that. And Ma was a tree speaker, so why had she harmed the piaua?

  Ma picked up some tiny leaves from the grass. “Owl-wort, for Ana. Ezaara must’ve dropped it.”

  “What’s going on?” Tomaaz’s voice cracked.

  “We’ll explain later, Tomaaz.” Pa’s green eyes were intense. “Don’t mention Ezaara.”

  Tomaaz’s throat felt raw, his chest tight. A dragon had stolen his sister, and he was supposed to do nothing? He clutched his sword.

  Klaus burst into the clearing, a pitchfork in his hand. “Hans, did you see the dragon? Where is it now?”

  “There.” Pa pointed at a smudge flying toward the Western Grande Alps.

  “It’s gone,” said Klaus, shading his eyes to see the disappearing beast. “What was the damage? What did it take? Are our children safe?”

  “No damage,” Pa replied quietly.

  How could he be so calm?

  “Tomaaz and I were bathing when we saw the dragon fly over the valley …” Pa’s voice trailed off.

  He was acting a part—acting, when Ezaara was gone. Tomaaz clenched and unclenched his fists.

  “I saw it swoop,” cried one man, waving a pike.

  “Perhaps it took a deer from the forest,” Pa said.

  “It was pretty,” murmured a littling.

  Voices babbled. No one had seen it take Ezaara.

  Eventually, folk turned back toward their homes, walking together, discussing stories of dragons. Pa and Ma chatted as if they hadn’t a care. Tight-lipped, Klaus walked with them.

  Tomaaz’s world had turned upside down. His twin sister was gone. Gone. And his parents were hiding something.

  “Where’s your sister, Tomaaz?” Klaus asked. “I haven’t seen her since the market.”

  Tomaaz’s stomach twisted. He shrugged, not trusting his voice.

  “Where is she?” Klaus turned to Pa and Ma.

  “At home,” Pa said. “She’s not well.”

  Klaus looked wary. “She was fine at the market, this morning.”

  Pa nodded. “We suspect she has pilzkrank.”

  Pa was a sly old dog. It was a good ploy. Pilz looked remarkably like an edible fungus, but caused rapid, contagious infections. No one would come looking for Ezaara for days.

  “Let us know if you need any help,” Klaus said, his suspicions allayed.

  “I will,” Pa replied.

  Why was Pa being so devious?

  Klaus raised his voice to carry along the road. “An hour after dusk, we’ll have a menfolk meeting in the square. Go home and check your stock to make sure the dragon hasn’t struck. Women and children should stay inside and bar their doors in case the beast comes back. We need a plan to fortify Lush Valley against further dragon attacks.”

  People nodded and murmured, continuing along the road toward the village. Pa waved as the three of them turned down the track to their farm.

  “Hans, I must get the flatbread away from the fire before it burns,” Ma said.

  Baking? Ma was worried about baking?

  Pa nodded. “Tomaaz and I will check the animals and give them their feed.”

  A figure broke away from the folk to join them. It was Ernst, Lofty’s father.

  “Hans, trust you to get there first,” Ernst exclaimed. “You saw the only excitement this valley has had for years. A dragon! Above Lush Valley! What was it like?”

  Pa laughed. “A fearsome beast, but it was already far away by the time we got there.”

  Ernst slapped Tomaaz on the shoulder. “You’re a man now, too, Tomaaz, so we’ll be expecting you at the meet.”

  Hans nodded. “We’ll be there.”

  Ernst left to rejoin the folk heading to the settlement hub.

  “You’ll have to come, Son,” Pa said, “otherwise they’ll be suspicious.”

  Usually Tomaaz would jump at the chance to attend a menfolk meet, but tonight all he wanted was the truth.

  §

  During the rounds of the animals, Tomaaz clenched his jaw so hard it ached. His sister was gone. They were obviously feeding the stock to stop the neighbors from being suspicious. Afterward, Pa insisted on harvesting more vegetables, then they made their way inside.

  Ma was ladling soup into wooden bowls. “Eat up and we’ll talk before you leave for the men folk meet.”

  “Soup?” A bitter laugh escaped Tomaaz. He strode over and shoved his bowl. It slid across the tabletop and thunked to the floor, splattering his mother’s rucksack. “My sister’s gone and you give me soup?” He glared at Ma. “And why is your bag packed? Are you going, too?”

  Ma glanced at Pa. “It’s time we told him.”

  Pa picked up Tomaaz’s bowl and thumped it on the table. “Sit down, Son.”

  Instead, Tomaaz paced by the fire.

  “Ma and I came to Lush Valley, years ago, to keep you and Ezaara safe,” Pa said. “To give you a chance to grow up strong and learn survival skills. We chose Lush Valley, here among the foothills of the Grande Alps—”

  “I don’t need a geography lesson,” Tomaaz snarled.

  Pa ignored him. “Hemmed in by mountains and isolated from the rest of Dragons’ Realm, Lush Valley’s the only place where dragons are treated with suspicion. Across the rest of Dragons’ Realm, folk respect the dragons who protect us.”

  “Protect us?” Tomaaz scowled. “That’s not likely. One just snatched Ezaara.” He picked up the poker and stabbed at the fire. Sparks flew up the chimney.

  “Son, your mother and I are dragon folk.” Pa paused. “Actually, we’re dragon riders.”

  Tomaaz whirled, the poker clanging to the floor. “What?!” Dragon folk? Riders? They had to be joking. “What’s that got to do with Ezaara?”

  “Hear me out, Son.” Pa broke off a piece of bread and chewed it slowly. The wait was agonizing. “It was years ago. When I met Marlies, she worked for Dragon Corps, a secret group of riders. She was a spy, a fighter, an expert in herb lore.” He stroked Ma’s hand. Her eyes glinted. “She rode a silver dragon named Liesar, whose eyes were bright turquoise—as your mother’s now are, after years of riding her. Riders inherit other gifts fr
om their dragons—sharpened senses and, sometimes, the ability to harness excess power. I was a dragon rider, too.”

  “And not too bad at it,” Ma interjected.

  Tomaaz snorted.

  Pa’s mouth grew tight. “Marlies and I fought side by side to defeat the tharuks that were trying to overthrow the dragons and enslave our folk.”

  Tomaaz stopped pacing. His neck prickled. “You fought tharuks? And Commander Zens?”

  “Many times.” Pa nodded. “We married. Together with our dragons, Handel and Liesar, we achieved joint mind-meld. All four of us could hear each other’s thoughts. In the history of dragon folk, it had only happened once before.” He squeezed Ma’s hand. “I became the Master Seer—and Marlies, Master Healer—on the Dragon Council.”

  Tomaaz shook his head. This was all too much.

  “We had every reason to be happy,” said Pa. “Except one. We couldn’t have children.”

  “We tried for years,” said Ma, “but never conceived. Then there was a grievous battle. We triumphed, but Zens and his tharuks killed many—including the dragon king, the King’s Rider, and the Queen’s Rider.

  “Zaarusha, the dragon queen, was carrying four eggs. In the aftermath of battle, amid our wounded, she laid them and brooded on her nest.” Ma winced, lines appearing on her face. “One night I was looking after the eggs while Zaarusha was hunting …” She broke off, then blurted, “I killed a royal dragonet, Tomaaz. I accidentally killed one.”

  The fire crackled.

  “I—I touched an egg when I should’ve known better.” Her shoulders shook.

  Pa put his arm around her. “But that’s not all,” he said. “Somehow, touching the dragonet’s egg allowed the baby dragon to pass its life force to Marlies, healing her. Shortly after, she became pregnant and we had you and Ezaara.” Pa ran a hand through his hair, tugging at his curls. “That dragonet sacrificed itself so we could have you.”

  The fire’s flickering shadows danced across the lines on Ma’s face. “But there was a price.”

  Ezaara—she was the price. “Will she survive?” Tomaaz’s throat was so tight, his voice cracked. He slumped into a chair.

  Ma placed her hand on his shoulder. “Yes, Ezaara should be fine. The price was my guilt.”

  Tomaaz shivered. The fire had dwindled. Red embers glared at him like angry dragon eyes. He threw a log on them.

  Pa leaned forward. “Zens must have struck at the heart of Dragons’ Realm for Zaarusha to imprint with Ezaara.”

  Tomaaz swallowed. So Ezaara had bonded with the dragon queen and flown away. So much for her promise not to leave him. That multi-colored beast hadn’t stolen her at all. And that same beast’s offspring was the only reason he existed.

  §

  “You’re going somewhere, aren’t you?” Tomaaz snapped, pointing at Marlies’ rucksack. His jaw was jutting out, his body tense with accusation.

  Marlies’ family was being splintered, and her son’s heart shattered, but she had to go. Zaarusha’s son’s life depended upon her. “I am.” Marlies took a deep breath. “Years ago, I was too cowardly to face Zaarusha—even though I’d killed her baby. Now, I have to prove my loyalty.”

  “How?” barked Tomaaz. “By heading beyond the Grande Alps and rushing headfirst into a troop of tharuks?”

  “Enough, Tomaaz!” Hans snapped.

  “Enough? Ezaara’s gone, now Ma’s going, too!” Tomaaz leaped out of his chair, his hands clenched in fists.

  “We hid in Lush Valley to avoid Zaarusha’s wrath. Now that she’s found us, there’s no point in staying.” Hans’ eyes blazed like emeralds. “There’s nothing left for us here.”

  “But Lofty, my friends …”

  “He’s right, Hans,” Marlies said. “We’ve made a home here. It’s hard to leave.” Hans had been itching to leave for years, but her heart was breaking for Tomaaz. For the lies they’d told. “Zaarusha has asked me to find her son. Tomaaz, I have to rescue him for Zaarusha. I must clear my name.” The weight of the dead dragonet had always sat on her shoulders. Now she carried the weight of more of Zaarusha’s offspring. And if she didn’t succeed, that weight would crush her. “I have to go tonight. Now.”

  “You, too?” Tomaaz stared at her.

  She embraced him. He was so rigid with tension, it was like hugging stone.

  Blinking back tears, Marlies picked up her rucksack and headed to the door. “I’m sorry, Son,” she whispered.

  “Just get Ezaara back.” Tomaaz’s voice was brittle, like shards of ice snapping underfoot.

  Ezaara wouldn’t be coming back. He didn’t fully understand imprinting—the emotional and mental bond that compelled riders to be with their dragons. How could he? They’d never even talked about dragons.

  Hans ushered Marlies outside, his hand warm in hers. Dusk had settled, giving her cover for her journey. They walked to the stable and saddled Star. Hans led the horse across the paddock to the copse.

  “Here’s your cloak. I wish I was coming with you.” Hans embraced her. “Speed well,” he said, kissing her.

  Marlies wrapped her cloak around her. “My cloak always reminds me of Giddi,” she murmured.

  “Me too,” Hans said. “May it protect you.”

  After kissing Hans again, she climbed upon Star, waved, and rode to the sacred clearing. Dismounting, Marlies bowed before the piaua tree, and placed her hands on its trunk, listening, sensing. The trunk thrummed beneath her fingers. The tree’s leaves stirred, filling the air with a rushing sound, like a giant river cascading through a chasm. Marlies cocked her head, straining to hear the tree’s message.

  “Take my berries, witch of blue.”

  Piaua berries? Those were usually a last resort—only for the desperate. She shivered. Becoming a witch of blue had never been in her plans.

  “Be quick. An enemy is approaching.”

  “Thank you,” Marlies said, “for the berries and the warning.”

  She rose and plucked two stalks of berries, thrusting them into her healer’s pouch. Marlies swung into the saddle, departing from the clearing as the crack of breaking sticks alerted her to someone’s presence. She glanced back.

  Bill was in the clearing with a crow on his shoulder. Staring after her with malice-filled eyes, he grinned.

  Digging her heels into Star’s sides, Marlies urged her on through the trees. She’d suspected there was something odd about Bill, the traveling merchant. Today he’d incited Lofty to wager and start a sword fight in the village that drew attention to her children’s skills. As they’d cleared up at the market, Tomaaz had mentioned dragon cloth that Bill had shown Ezaara. And now, this. A prickle ran down her spine. Bill might be a tharuk spy.

  There was a caw above her. A crow dived through the trees at her, circled, and flew off. Was it the same one that had been with Bill?

  No, that was too strange. Marlies and Star galloped on.

  Above the trees, high on the Western Grande Alps, something glinted. A beacon fire, in the pass—a warning that Lush Valley would soon be under attack. Torn between Zaarusha and her family, Marlies reined Star to a halt. Her chest tightened.

  All those years ago, she’d fled Zaarusha’s wrath, leaving death in her wake. Now she was abandoning her family when death would soon be visiting.

  Death Valley

  The creature licked his aching leg, trying to edge his tongue under the biting metal shackle. The dull throb returned the moment he stopped licking. Hunger gnawing at his belly, he limped through the gray haze to the mouth of his cave. He was wearing a furrow in the ground from his endless pacing.

  Muffled scrapes reached his ears. Someone was coming. His nostrils flared. Human—sniff—and rotting rat. Daggers of sunlight stabbed his eyes. With a whimper, he pulled his head back into the shadows. A vague memory of days in the sun—sun that hadn’t burned—stirred in his mind, then was swamped by gray fog again.

  He growled, letting the rumble build in his throat. As usual, the human ignored him, shambling
toward him with his meal—not that he’d call those putrid rat carcasses a meal.

  Despite his disgust, he salivated.

  Empty-eyed and slack-mouthed, the human dumped the meat in the glaring sunlight.

  The creature tried to rear, but fell back when the shackle bit into his leg. Not noticing, the human shuffled off.

  The creature lay on his stomach and edged toward the fetid stench, squeezing his eyes shut to stop the burn. Stretching his neck, he snapped up the rotten meat. Blinded and still hungry, he retreated into the darkness.

  Scorned

  Hans turned away from Marlies’ departing figure, his neck hair prickling and senses alert. The farm was wrapped in night’s shadows. He scanned the fields with dragon sight, but despite everything being peaceful, unease trickled down his spine. Again, he checked his land, then the copse and the river. Nothing there. Why were his nerves so jumpy?

  He gazed across the grass, through the walls of his home. Tomaaz was jabbing the coals with a poker, but apart from his son venting his frustration, nothing was amiss. Just to be sure, Hans padded around the farm’s perimeter. By the roadside, the carrot tops feathered in the breeze and the scent of rich earth rose to greet his nostrils, but his sense of menace lingered. Heading toward the fowl house, he kept an eye on the copse, in case of trouble.

  His sense of danger grew.

  A faint scrape sounded on the fowl house roof. Hans whipped around.

  Bill landed on the grass, his knife flashing.

  Hans gave a mental groan. He hadn’t thought to look up at the roof. His senses sharpened. “Want to talk, Bill?”

  Bill spat at Hans’ feet. “Talk to the likes of you?” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Ha! I saw your stinking daughter, gone with the queen of flying lizards.”

  Had Bill been in the forest for Zaarusha’s visit? Keeping his eyes on Bill, Hans edged toward a large stick lying on the grass.

  “Suppose you think she’s the new Queen’s Rider?” Bill smirked. “Not if I have my way.” His eyes gleamed unnaturally in the dark.

  So, he’d recognized Zaarusha. Hans’ muscles were taut, his gaze steady on Bill’s face. “Oh?”