The cooper’s wife clutched Paolo to her side. “Yes.”
“Then shutter your windows and bar the door and send who you can to help the village fight.”
As the cooper’s wife hurried Paolo to the house, Paolo begged, “Please, Ma, let me go to the fight.”
A keening wind drifted through the trees. Tomaaz glanced at town, so close, then back to Lofty’s farm. Bill was going after Lovina. He had to stop him. But Pa was stuck in prison. Or was he dead, as Bill had said? Shards, what to do? For an agonizing moment, Tomaaz was on the balls of his feet.
Then he raced to town. Lovina had Ernst and others to protect her. Pa only had him, and Pa might know how to save Lush Valley.
§
Tomaaz skirted around the main road to avoid the worst of the fighting. He ran past a blazing house and arrived at the jail, panting, the old burns on his legs throbbing.
The door was open. The guard was dead, throat slashed, his blood sprayed over the foyer. Sickened, Tomaaz entered the corridor and snatched up a blazing torch. Rows of cell doors stood ajar. He ran down the aisle.
So far, all empty.
Before Pa’s cell, an enormous tharuk was sprawled against a barred door, a piece of wood sticking out from under its chin, sticky blood pooling around it.
Pa’s wooden bed had been splintered, bits of timber scattered across his floor.
Tomaaz bent to examine the dead beast. So that’s how Pa killed tharuks.
§
With Klaus’ help, Hans had succeeded in rallying the villagers to take refuge in the square. They’d blocked off three entrances by piling furniture high and setting archers on nearby rooftops, but the monsters were still pouring in through the broadest street. While others staved off beasts with spears, Hans led fighters into the fray.
“Watch the tusks,” he bellowed, slicing an unarmored tharuk’s belly open.
“Look out for their claws!” Hans drove his sword into a tharuk’s eye. “Hit their weak spots.”
Around him, inexperienced fighters surged, some injuring one another while swinging at the brutes, but they hewed and cut their way into the enemy, desperate to protect their families.
Briefly, Hans wondered where Tomaaz was. Marlies. Ezaara.
Bodies hit the cobbles.
In the square, a couple of narrow alleys provided an escape route should the villagers need to flee. It was looking more and more like they’d have to. They were outnumbered, people falling like autumn leaves.
More tharuks kept streaming in. They had no chance. If dragons didn’t arrive soon, the whole township would be lost.
§
Lovina huddled under the bed with the littlings. Crashes and grunts rang out around her. A dead tharuk thudded to the nearby floorboards, making the littlings tremble. Bellows came from the room next door, then, little by little, the noise receded and the fighting continued outside.
“Can we come out?” whispered the smallest.
“The monsters might hurt you, so we have to stay and be quiet,” Lovina whispered.
The fighting sounded further away, now, but she’d promised to keep these children safe until their parents returned.
If their parents returned. She swallowed a bitter pang. Now that the numlock had lifted, her memories were trickling back. Strangely, the most distant ones had come first. The night she’d hidden in a closet while tharuks had ransacked their village looking for slaves. Da had not come back that night, and she and Ma were captured.
Arms around the littlings, she waited in the dark under the bed, trying to remember what had happened to her ma, but that memory was still shrouded in fog.
There was a clunk. Lovina’s muscles tensed. Another clunk—the bump of wood on wood.
Was that a window flapping in the wind? She couldn’t remember opening one, but with fighting going on, maybe someone else had. Perhaps she should close it in case a tharuk climbed in. Lovina waited, the window bumping softly against the sill a few more times.
Lovina eased her head out from under the bed. Oh, no: worn brown boots with tarnished buckles. Her heart froze. They were Bill’s.
Bill grabbed a clump of her hair and pulled. Lovina resisted, clinging to the leg of the bed, but he yanked harder. A chunk of her hair ripped out, pain searing her skull. He grabbed another handful and yanked again, smashing her face against the frame of the bed. One of the littlings grabbed her legs.
Gods, no! If they hung on, he’d see them, hurt them too.
“It’s all right, Bill,” she gasped. “I’m coming out.” Oh gods, don’t let Bill think that was too easy and get suspicious. She shook her leg, getting the littling to let go, then clambered out.
Bill’s eyes shone yellow in the candlelight.
Lovina cringed. She couldn’t help it. Swayweed made him meaner.
He dragged her toward him by the hair, forcing her into a chair. He leaned over, his face in hers.
“What did I promise I’d do, if you ever ran away again?” Bill’s breath made her eyes water. “What did I say?”
Last time, she hadn’t got far. “B-break …” Lovina swallowed, unable to finish. She’d asked Ernst and Ana to help her get out of Lush Valley, but with Bill in jail, they hadn’t thought it necessary. Why hadn’t she left? Tomaaz’s face flashed to mind. Where was he now? Nowhere. No one was ever there—except Bill.
“What did I tell you?” Bill asked, quiet menace in his voice.
Lovina hung her head.
The littlings shuffled under the bed.
“Um, ah …” She spoke loudly, so Bill couldn’t hear them. “You said you’d break my bones.”
His smile wasn’t kind. “Good. You remembered. Now, let’s get on with that. I’d hate to break my promise.” Bill laughed at his own pun. Tying a length of rope around Lovina’s wrist, he shoved her toward the open window. “I’m taking you somewhere we won’t be disturbed. And if you make a peep, I’ll be back to kill one of those stinkers under that bed.”
Dread wormed through Lovina.
Bill picked Lovina up. For the sake of the littlings, she didn’t struggle. He threw her out the window and jumped to the ground beside her. Stuffing a gag in her mouth and yanking her rope hard, he led her toward the trees by the river.
Turning Point
Panting, Tomaaz stopped outside Lofty’s house, putting his hands on his knees to catch his breath. Ana and Ernst were tending the wounded where they lay. Others were still fighting tharuks in the neighboring fields.
“Where’s Lovina?” he called.
“Safe inside,” Ana answered, cleansing a gash in a man’s shoulder.
“Did you fight Bill off?”
“Bill?” Ernst’s shaggy eyebrows drew into a frown, as he cut a strip of bandage with his knife. “He’s in jail, not here.”
Tomaaz burst into Lofty’s home and snatched up a candle. Muffled sobs came from Lovina’s bedroom—the littlings’ room. He dashed down the hallway and pulled the door open.
A dead tharuk lay on its side, in pooling blood. The bed was rumpled and a chair was overturned. A window flapped in the breeze. Maybe the sobbing had come from the next room. About to close the door, Tomaaz heard someone choking back a gasp.
He scrambled to his knees and lifted the bedding. Under the bed, Lofty’s three littling brothers were squeezed hard against the wall, faces tear-streaked. “Hey,” he called, setting the candle on the floor. “Come here, boys.” He reached under and pulled them out.
Wait, blood on the bed frame. Long strands of brown hair on the floor. Tomaaz picked up some hair, and then more. “Where’s Lovina?” His words were strangled. “Where is she?”
“Over there,” said Deano, the eldest of the littlings. “I watched out the window.”
Tomaaz rushed him to the open window. “Where did the man take Lovina, Deano?”
“By those trees,” the boy said, pointing toward the swimming hole. “He tied her up.”
No, while he’d searched for Pa, Bill had been snatching L
ovina.
“Into the living room. Wait for your ma there.”
He leaped through the window and sped across the field.
“Hey, Maaz!” Lofty yelled. “Where are you going?”
“Bill’s got Lovina,” Tomaaz panted, running toward the trees.
§
Blood slicked the pommel of Hans’ sword, making it hard to grip, but he hacked into the beast. It dropped. Another surged forward to take its place. Feint, thrust, drive and sidestep. Lunge, deflect and aim … his sword hit home, piercing the soft skin under the tharuk’s chin. The beast tottered and fell on its side.
With a screech, the cooper next to him fell, leaving his young son unprotected.
Hans swung to deflect the claws of a beast. He pushed past a furry back to pierce the armpit of a small tharuk with its claws raised over Paolo’s head. The tharuk faced Hans, eyes blazing, angling its tusks at his face. Hans ducked, driving his sword into the beast’s gut. With two hands and all his bodyweight, he pushed, feeling the pop as he pierced the tharuk’s tough hide, but before he could drive the sword deeper, the brute grabbed him.
Hans dropped his sword, his arms pinned to his sides, helpless.
Then Klaus was there, ramming his knife into the tharuk’s throat.
In a gush of stinking dark blood, the beast went limp. Hans kicked it backward, knocking another tharuk down. He yanked his sword from the tharuk’s belly and nodded at Klaus. “Thanks.”
“Back to the square, Paolo,” he yelled to the boy. Then he and Klaus turned to keep fighting.
§
The sky was waning to pre-dawn gray when Tomaaz heard Lovina scream. Sword drawn, he ran through the trees.
“No, I won’t come with you!” she yelled.
“Which bone shall I break next?” Bill laughed.
Tomaaz ran. There, through those trees.
Bill kicked Lovina in the stomach. She dropped to her knees, clutching her belly. Bill backhanded her. Her head snapped back, smashing against a tree trunk.
White-hot rage surged through Tomaaz. He pounded across the forest floor.
Lovina rolled out of the way as Bill aimed another kick.
Then, seeing Tomaaz racing toward him, Bill gave a guttural yell and leaped into the air toward Lovina.
“No!” Tomaaz’s shriek cut the air. He was too slow.
Too slow to stop the full weight of Bill landing on Lovina’s arm, boots first.
There was a crack. Bone jabbed through skin. Her face turned the white of solstice bread, and her eyes rolled back in her head.
Then, Bill was gone, dashing away through the bushes.
“Lovina.” Tomaaz reached her, dropping his sword and falling to his knees.
Her eyes flitted to him, beyond and back, breathing shallow. She murmured.
“What is it?”
“Behind you,” she gasped.
Tomaaz turned.
“May I introduce you to my friends?” said Bill.
Four tharuks stood at his back, tusks gleaming in the sunrise.
§
Hans dragged his sword from a tharuk’s throat and lifted it to swing again. His legs were faltering, dog-tired. Usually at sunrise, even in battle, he felt a new surge of hope, but this was different.
Beside him, Klaus held the brutes at bay with a spear, jabbing them when they got too close. They were part of a ragged line, trying to hold back the flood of tharuks. Jammed between two rows of buildings edging the street, with archers positioned above, he’d thought they had a fair chance of repelling the beasts and securing the street, but he’d been wrong.
An arrow whistled past him, hitting a tharuk in the eye. It collapsed, knocking a fighter down. The boy lay there, trapped beneath the beast, too tired to move. Klaus swung his spear in an arc, allowing Hans time to get to the boy. He rolled the tharuk’s body over and the boy dragged himself to his feet.
“Paolo, it’s you! I told you to go back to the square.”
“They killed my da. I want to fight.” The boy brandished his sword, jutting out his chin.
“Then stick with me,” Hans said, swinging his sword at another beast.
Paolo stuck a tharuk in the arm, but it wasn’t enough. The beast swiped with his free claws, sending the lad flying, then picked up Paolo’s sword and tossed it aside. It towered over the chalk-faced boy. Hans leaped over a body and rammed his sword through the beast’s side. The tharuk collapsed on top of Paolo and, this time, Hans left the lad there. He was probably safer hidden under a tharuk than fighting.
Another man went down. This had gone on too long.
“Hans,” Klaus bellowed. He was at the closest end of a line of spear wielders, struggling to keep the monsters at bay.
Near the far building, tharuks pressed forward. The foremost beasts were impaled on spears, but others pushed on, trampling their bodies and the fighters. Hans ran, sword out, watching in horror as his men screamed, then fell silent as they were crushed by stampeding beasts.
Volleys of arrows flew. Some tharuks fell, but more rushed over them, pouring through the gap.
“Retreat, retreat, they’ve breached the square!” He ran to retrieve Paolo, but was pushed back, in a crush of bodies, toward the square. “To me, to me!” he bellowed.
Klaus surged through the pandemonium, tossing aside a tharuk, but was swept up, alongside Hans.
When they arrived at the square, they tried, again, to form a front line.
“To us,” Klaus yelled. “Regroup! Over here.”
A ragtag bunch of fighters regrouped, but within moments they were shoved aside, each fighting isolated battles amid a sea of tharuks.
They had no chance. Absolutely no chance.
But at least Hans could take a few tharuks with him before he died. Ezaara, Marlies and Tomaaz flashed to mind. He hoped they were safe, but somehow, he wasn’t sure anymore.
He hacked into the mass of fur in front of him.
Then, as if by magic, his arm was stronger. He swung his sword with more confidence. His legs moved faster, his mind was less sluggish. It was as if … “Handel?”
“On my way.”
The warmth of his dragon’s thoughts flooded Hans, giving him courage. If they could mind-meld, Handel must be close. He rammed his sword into a tharuk and hewed down another. “For Dragons’ Realm!” he bellowed. “Stand strong and fight these beasts.” The increased surge of energy came from Handel. Fire blazed in Hans’ veins, and he slew tharuks with renewed vigor.
“I hope you have company,” he mind-melded with Handel.
“Two full troops of blue guards.”
At last, they had a fighting chance.
Wheeling blue dragons created shadows over the square with their enormous wingspans as riders shot arrows into screeching tharuks. Swathes of flame cut down tharuks that were chasing women and children.
Hans battled a huge tharuk, ducking claws and lunging away from the brute’s tusks, his hair ruffling in the downdraft of the dragons’ wingbeats. Funny that—the movement of his hair, right in the middle of battle. It felt so familiar, so right. Why in the Egg’s name had he and Marlies hidden for so long in this backwater? This is what made him feel alive: dragon power singing in his veins; the knowledge he was needed to save lives. Never again would he hide for fear of repercussion. He’d gladly face Zaarusha, take her condemnation, and prove to her that he could still be true to the realm.
“To us!” Hans bellowed.
Lush Valley fighters took courage, joining Hans and Klaus, forming lines that blocked the streets. In the square, dragons flamed tharuks until they were piles of smoking flesh and char. That old familiar stench of burning fur hung in the air.
This was what he and Marlies were born for, not farming and living in terror of ever seeing a dragon again.
But not all Lush Valley citizens took cheer at seeing the dragons. Some ran squealing, looking for cover. Others were gibbering about the evil stinking dragons that were going to eat them.
Klaus
shot Hans a grim look. “I was wrong, Hans.”
Hans nodded, piercing the chin of a tharuk, leaping back as it fell. “Your father raised you that way, Klaus.”
Klaus jabbed a tharuk with his spear, driving it back. Curiosity crept over his face. “So, my grandpa really was a dragon rider?”
A burst of flame hit a nearby tharuk. “Busy chatting, are you?”
Hans looked up, his breath catching. The last rays of sunrise hit his dragon’s bronze scales, making them gleam like treasure. His throat ached at Handel’s beauty.
“You’re right, I am treasure. Nice to see you again, Hans.”
“And you, too.” A gust of Handel’s affection blew through him, warming him. “I thought you’d be angry at me for leaving.”
“For a few years, I was. But lately, I’d been hoping I’d find you again. Your daughter has created quite a stir.” One of Handel’s memories shot through Hans’ mind: Ezaara flying a loop on Zaarusha, the crowd below transfixed, with those fierce mountain peaks of Dragon’s Teeth standing guard in the background.
“Gods, I’ve missed Ezaara. And Dragons’ Hold.”
“Not for long. The blue guards will sort this mess out. You and I have places to be.” Handel swooped.
“Klaus, the dragons want me to go,” Hans said.
“My grandfather was a dragon rider,” Klaus said, “so I’m sure I’ll handle this. Just go.”
Hans jammed his sword in his scabbard. Handel grasped his shoulders with strong talons, lifting him above the battle. Hans hung on, letting out a loud whoop. “It’s great to be back in the saddle.”
“You’re not in the saddle yet. Give me a chance.” Handel’s chuckle fluttered through his mind.
Below, people and tharuks looked up, staring. “Keep fighting!” Hans bellowed. “Handel, I should stay, help them. I can’t abandon them now.”
“What could you achieve that two troops of blue guards can’t deal with?” Handel ascended above the buildings. Thanks to the dragons and their riders—the battle had turned. Tharuks fled from the settlement, out across fields. Dragons were chasing them down, the blue guards’ arrows finding their marks. In the fields near his home, Hans saw a flash of silver, then a spurt of flame. “Liesar?”
Dragon Hero: Riders of Fire, Book Two - A Dragons' Realm novel Page 13