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

by Eileen Mueller

  By the time he reached Giddi’s cottage, his limbs were weary. He rapped on the door—three short raps and two thumps. Giddi’s dog, Mischief, barked, then whined.

  Giddi opened the door a crack. Light spilled into the dark woods. “John! You’re as wet as a drowned rat! Come in.”

  Giddi was the only one who ever called him John; to everyone else, he was Giant. John stepped inside and Giddi embraced him, not bothered by his dampness.

  “Tharuks are attacking Spanglewood Settlement. We have to send help.”

  Giddi nodded. “Starrus and Benno and some warriors from Horseshoe Bend left a while ago, so they should be there by now. Come and sit by the fire.”

  John sighed. Glancing at the cold hearth, he grinned. “It’s good to see you. It’s been too long.”

  “It has.” The mage flicked his fingers. Green wizard flame shot from his hands. The wood in the hearth caught, flames licking up the chimney. Giddi hung a pot over an iron bar and swung it over the fire. “We’ll get you out of those wet clothes and some stew into you, then you can tell me why you’ve come.” He opened a cupboard. “Here are your things.”

  John took his fresh clothes. “Thanks for hanging onto them for so long.”

  Giddi arched a sardonic eyebrow. “It’s not as if they’d fit anyone else.”

  John chuckled and stripped off, drying himself on a rough wool blanket. As he dressed, the aroma of stew filled the cabin.

  Giddi ladled him a bowlful and pulled some chairs over to the fire. “Now, tell me how you got those bruises all over your ribs.”

  Between spoonfuls, John recounted his travels with Marlies, his journey back, and how that tracker had boasted of Zens’ new plans. When he recounted his dive into the Tooka chasm and swim down the falls, Giddi raised one of his famous bushy eyebrows, but said nothing until he’d finished.

  “It sounds like you need rest and a good horse, so you can get to the blue guards and on to Dragons’ Hold.” He picked up John’s clothes, running his hands over them as he spoke. Steam wafted off the garments. “You can take Midnight all the way to Montanara. She’s fast and will find her way back here.” Giddi folded the clothes.

  “Hang onto them. You never know when I’ll be in a tight spot again.”

  Giddi laughed. “I’ve got you out of enough of those, but you’ve saved my hide, too. Remember that first battle against the tharuks at Horseshoe Bend? Zens had just come through the world gate and made those foul creatures. We had no idea what we were up against.”

  “Or how long these battles would go on.”

  John sipped his wizard tea. “Gah, what’s in this?”

  Giddi chuckled. “I forgot you hate fennel and aniseed, sorry. It’ll help you heal from the inside.” Giddi hesitated.

  “What is it?”

  “If I’m not here next time you come, you know where your things are, right?”

  “Why wouldn’t you be here?”

  Giddi shrugged, his eyes flitting away. “We live in perilous times.”

  There were only two reasons Giddi would leave his cottage in the woods—war or death. John cracked his knuckles. Unless Giddi was thinking of going through the world gate after Mazyka? Surely not. When he sealed the world gate all those years ago, Giddi had promised Anakisha never to open it again.

  §

  Giant John and Midnight left at dawn, traveling hard all day, through the night and throughout the next day. Many of the villages they passed in Spanglewood Forest had tharuk outposts nearby, their ominous presence cloaking the land with Commander Zens’ evil shadow. Whenever possible, Giant John skirted around villages, taking back trails through the forest. Midnight was fast, surefooted and didn’t spook easily, but a short way from Montanara, as they joined the main route, she started rolling her eyes and snorting.

  A rotten stench drifted across the track, and a tharuk tracker stepped out of the trees, blocking the trail. “You,” it snarled, tusks glistening with dark saliva. Its nostrils dilated, scenting him. “We seek big man. Like you. Where are you going?”

  “Home to Montanara.” Giant John pictured a cottage on the town outskirts, where his friend lived, keeping the image firmly in his mind, in case a mind-bender was near. Sure enough, a second tharuk stepped out of the trees, its black eyes narrowed on him. Then a third, neither tracker nor mind-bender, just a red-eyed grunt.

  The mind-bender approached. Giant John’s thoughts swirled. He held onto the image of his ‘home’, fighting the rush of terror the beast sent at him.

  His fears had been realized. Word had gotten to these troops that other tharuks had been hunting him. How? Apart from sleeping at Giddi’s, he’d traveled non-stop since Tooka Falls. It was almost as if they had messenger pigeons. There was movement among the trees as more tharuks sneaked through the woods to surround him.

  Digging his heels into Midnight’s sides, Giant John yelled, “Go!”

  She leaped ahead, charging at the tharuk tracker, striking him in the chest with her hoof. The tracker rolled aside, and the trail was open.

  “Go, Midnight,” Giant John yelled, snapping her reins.

  Midnight surged forward.

  The tracker roared. His troops pounded the forest floor behind them. Giant John leaned low against Midnight’s neck, urging her on. She galloped along the trail through Spanglewood Forest. Low-hanging foliage whipped against Giant John’s face and slapped against Midnight’s flanks.

  She powered onward, her thundering hooves drowning out the sound of pursuit. It would be dark soon, but Giant John suffered no illusions: trackers only needed scent, not light, to hunt down their quarry.

  By the time they stopped in a meadow outside Montanara, the evening’s shadows had crept across the fields. Midnight’s sides were heaving and her head drooped. Giant John let the reins hang slack, but she had no energy to eat. He slipped off her back and patted her neck. Her flanks steamed in the cool night air. He tugged the reins, pulling her head down.

  Giant John breathed a sigh of relief as she lipped the grass, ripping it out of the earth. He waited for her to eat, then walked her to the stables. On Montanara’s outskirts, he’d often stabled his own horses here and frequented the tavern next door. But tonight, he wouldn’t be stopping for an ale. The tavern was humming, and the fewer who saw him, the better.

  Giant John opened the gate to the stables. Giddi had sent a messenger bird to warn the owner that they were coming, so the front stall was empty and supplied with clean hay. He unbuckled Midnight’s saddle and hung it up. Patting the mare fondly, he left, easing the gate shut behind him. He had a hard trek by foot over the snow-clad mountains before he reached the blue guards near Dragons’ Hold.

  A burst of raucous laughter came from the tavern as a patron stepped outside to pee. Giant John melted into the darkness. He’d have to push himself hard. No doubt, that tracker was still on his trail.

  §

  Bill fastened his breeches, grinning at the large figure disappearing into the shadows. That very evening, he’d received a message from a crow about a large man wanted by tharuks. By mind-melding with the crow he’d seen the man they wanted—someone with the same gait and stature as the huge man sneaking off into the forest.

  The crow’s troop would be here by morning. Zens would reward him well for this information. Bill licked his lips and went back inside for another ale.

  The next morning, when the troop arrived, Bill stepped out of the tavern. “I have something for you,” he said, addressing a tracker. The sheer power in the brute’s gaze was enviable. Pride surged through Bill. To think he was on the winning side, the side that would rule the whole of Dragons’ Realm. He bowed. “A crow told me last night that you’re seeking a large man.”

  The tracker grunted, narrowing its eyes.

  “Bill, at your service.” Bill revealed the inside of his left elbow. “He went toward the river.”

  The tracker inspected Bill’s elbow, then barked at his underlings, “Tie the spy up and take him back to Zen
s with the others. 764 and I will find the giant.” The tracker spun and sped off toward the river, nostrils quivering.

  Two grunts bound Bill’s hands, but Bill didn’t fight. He was going to his beloved master. Zens would give him a fine reward for such a big prize.

  A New Path

  Tomaaz scrambled out of bed and raced to the slave boy. Eyes still shut, the lad was convulsing and shrieking, sheets twisted around his thrashing limbs. The poor littling hadn’t slept through once since they’d arrived back. In Death Valley, none of the slaves had screamed at night. But then again, they’d been numlocked.

  Tomaaz shook the boy awake and gathered the lad in his arms. “It’s all right, you’re safe.” Picking up a blanket, he sat in the chair Hendrik, the master craftsman, had brought them. With curved beams under the legs, it rocked back and forth.

  “Perfect for getting babes to sleep,” Hendrik had said.

  This boy was no babe, maybe eight or nine summers old, but he was as thin as a twig with legs that looked like they’d snap if the wind blew too hard. The boy shuddered. Tomaaz nestled him close and tucked the blanket around his bony frame. He rocked him, smoothing the hair back from his face.

  Those haunted lake-blue eyes stared up at him.

  “So, what’s your name?” Tomaaz asked for the hundredth time. Despite being here a few days, the boy still hadn’t spoken. Tomaaz talked to him, telling him stories, keeping his voice low so he wouldn’t wake Ma and Pa in the next room. Ma still needed rest, too.

  Finally, the boy drifted to sleep. Tomaaz tucked him back into bed and lay down on his own pallet. There were hundreds of slaves, like him, in Death Valley.

  §

  Tomaaz helped Lovina onto Maazini’s saddle and swung up behind her. “Just a short flight.”

  “It’s nice not to be in a saddlebag.” She turned to him, their noses nearly touching, and brushed her lips against his.

  “I didn’t expect that.”

  She laughed.

  “I love your laugh.”

  Her face grew warm. No one had ever said anything that nice. “Thank you.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows, making her laugh again.

  So, this was what happiness felt like, this bubbling inside.

  He touched the new scar on her cheek. “All right, Maazini,” he said aloud, “let’s go.” He wrapped his arms around her, cradling her broken arm.

  “Wait!” Lovina turned to him again. “Don’t you get flight sick anymore?”

  He grinned. “No, I don’t.”

  “What happened?”

  “Maazini happened. He’s changed my life. And so have you.” Tomaaz patted the dragon’s flank.

  Maazini bunched his legs and leaped off the ledge, his wings still furled tight against his sides. They plummeted like a stone, Lovina’s stomach dropping. Then the mighty orange dragon unfurled his wings and caught a warm thermal current, spiraling upward, to carry them high above the valley. Dragons wheeled in the air at the far end of the basin. The wind sifted its fingers through Lovina’s hair.

  “Maazini says, welcome to your new home, Lovina.” Tomaaz’s arms tightened around her as they headed across the basin.

  The air was fresh. Tomaaz’s warmth was at her back, pristine snow flecked the mountaintops, and a lake glinted below in the forest. Her heart soared.

  “Welcome to your new life,” he murmured in her ear.

  §

  “So, how are you feeling, Master Healer?” Hans asked as they entered their new living quarters, just off the infirmary.

  “I’m not sure, Master of Prophecy,” Marlies replied. The weight of her new responsibility had yet to sink in. “Strange, I never thought the council would reinstate us. I thought we’d shattered that egg long ago.”

  “So did I.” Hans shrugged. “With the other masters banished, they don’t have much choice.”

  “Thanks a lot!” She smiled, hugging him.

  He squeezed her hand, then pulled an armchair over for her.

  “I’m not an invalid, Hans.”

  “No, but now we’re together again, I have a chance to spoil you.”

  And to humor her. Mind-melding meant he knew exactly how worn out she was.

  Hans produced a paper package from his jerkin pocket and passed it to her.

  She unwrapped it. “Oh, Hans, a butter cake?” Her mouth watered.

  “Cook said that anyone who rescued Maazini deserves more than a butter cake. Go on, try it.”

  She broke a piece off for Hans, then bit into the creamy cake.

  “Blue guards are coming,” Liesar announced, breaking into their thoughts. “They’re bringing a man who’s been cut up by tharuks.”

  Marlies sprang to her feet. “Hans, prepare a bed, bandages and—”

  “I know the drill.”

  They ran through the infirmary, Hans stopping to prepare, while Marlies raced out to the ledge. Liesar took to the air. Far off, specks of blue were growing larger—two dragons were approaching.

  Liesar flew out to meet them. “Marlies, Hans,” she melded, “it’s Giant John, and he’s pretty gashed up.”

  Shards, she’d led him to being hurt. No, she had to stop thinking like this. “Hans, I’m going to need help lifting this one.”

  The blue dragon landed. Marlies stared at her gashed and bloody friend. “I hope you’ve got the piaua juice ready,” she said to Hans. “John’s going to need it.”

  §

  “Order!” Lars, the leader of the Council of the Twelve Dragon Masters, rapped his gavel on the granite table.

  Roberto pulled his chair into the horseshoe-shaped table. A few straggling masters took their seats. The new master of prophecy and master healer weren’t here yet. “Where are your parents?” he asked Ezaara.

  “Zaarusha says they’re coming.”

  Two more seats were empty: those of the recently-murdered masters. “May Shari and Jaevin’s spirits soar with departed dragons,” Roberto melded to Erob.

  Erob grunted.

  “A matter of grave importance has come before us,” Lars said. “Zens is creating new beasts. Rumor says they’ll be able to slay dragons.”

  Roberto’s belly tightened. New creatures?

  Murmurs rippled around the room.

  “Just let those beasts try,” Erob snarled in Roberto’s mind. Behind him, the dragons’ talons scratched stone.

  “A trusted witness heard tharuks gloating about these new beasts,” said Lars. “We plan to counter their attack.”

  Battle Master Aidan spoke up. “What are these beasts like? Are they armored? Do they have weaknesses? How many of them?”

  “I wish I knew.” Lars combed his fingers through his beard. The doors to the chamber room swung open. “Ah, we may have more answers now.”

  “There they are.” Ezaara’s relief rushed through Roberto as she glimpsed her parents, but then it died. “Who’s that with them? Poor guy.”

  Ezaara’s parents helped a huge man through the door. Marlies had obviously treated his wounds, but his fresh scars left no doubt that he’d been mauled by tharuks.

  “Welcome to Dragons’ Hold, Giant John,” Lars said. “Or should I say, welcome back? It’s been a few years.”

  More than five, since Roberto had never seen him.

  “Seppi,” called Tonio, the spymaster, getting up. “Fetch him up a chair.”

  Seppi found two armless straight-backed chairs, pushing them together side by side. The man sat, his bulk taking up both.

  Marlies and Hans took their seats behind the council table, and Lars motioned Giant John to speak.

  Giant John’s breath was ragged in the quiet council chamber. “I’ve traveled non-stop since Tooka Falls, where a tharuk tracker boasted that Zens is creating new creatures.” He took a few slow breaths, then continued. “These beasts can destroy dragons and people. Zens wants to control everyone in Dragons’ Realm.”

  Tonio paced between Giant John and the table. “What can you tell us about these beasts?”
>
  “Zens is creating them,” Giant John replied.

  “What sort of beast are they?” Tonio’s dark eyes scanned the man’s face. “Flying, crawling, slithering? Or some strange otherworldly creation, like tharuks?”

  “I don’t know—only that they’ll fight dragons.” Giant John winced, rubbing his side.

  “How many?”

  “No idea.”

  “What more can you tell us?”

  “I really don’t know anything more.” The Giant slumped.

  Tonio placed a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, Giant John.”

  Marlies and Hans stood and started to escort him to the door.

  “Not so fast,” Tonio said. He wheeled to face the council. “We need more information. Someone has to collect it.”

  “I’m not sending anyone into the jaws of that viper,” Lars snapped.

  “Me, neither.” Tonio held up a finger. “But, we have several people here who have been to Death Valley and survived.”

  Roberto’s blood ran cold. He’d left Death Valley behind and come here. Turned his life around. He wasn’t going back, no matter how desperate for information Tonio was.

  Lars’ voice took on a hard edge. “Exactly who are you thinking of, Tonio?”

  The masters shifted in their seats, eyes touching on Roberto then flitting away.

  “We have the slave boy,” said Tonio, counting him off on his thumb. “And—”

  “Who can’t speak,” interrupted Lars, “so he’s no good.”

  Tonio nodded, and kept going, “and Lovina, the girl who was enslaved to the traveling merchant—”

  “She’s terribly thin and suffering from maltreatment,” said Marlies. “She’s in no condition. That would be her death sentence.”

  “And there’s you,” Tonio said, turning to Marlies, and counting off his third digit.

  Hans bristled, but spoke quietly, “My wife hasn’t recovered yet, either.”