A tharuk had its head buried in the meat safe, its rear haunches completely unprotected. It crunched and slurped as it feasted on the flesh inside. Kisha was standing behind it with a cleaver raised in her hands. Marlies held her breath, not daring to make a sound. She hefted her sword and dagger, ready to jump in if needed.
Kisha screwed up her face and slammed the meat cleaver into the beast’s neck. The cleaver lodged in its thick fur. Dark blood spurted across the meat locker as the tharuk spun, cleaver still in its neck, and roared at Kisha, slashing with its claws. It bucked and clawed at the cleaver, but the weapon didn’t budge. Kisha ran across the kitchen, grabbed a frying pan, and threw it at the beast’s head. Yowling, it sprang onto the kitchen counter about to launch itself at the terrified girl.
Marlies’ dagger pierced its eye before the tharuk could jump. It crashed to the floor, twitching.
Marlies rushed to Kisha, sweeping her into a hug. “Are you all right?”
Kisha nodded.
A roar ripped through the tavern.
“Flame it, Leah’s out there alone.” Marlies raced through the door, vaulted the bar and stopped dead.
Leah was panting, her sword black and sticky as she pulled it from the chest of a tharuk that was slumped on the tavern floor. She grinned. “The naughty thing wouldn’t play nice.”
“Marlies? Is it really you?” Kisha came out from the bar, splattered in tharuk blood.
“Yes, it’s me. It’s no longer safe here. Come to Dragons’ Hold.”
Kisha shook her head vehemently. “I promised my grandmother that I would stay here and hold the fort.”
“But why? More brutes like these will come, again and again.”
Kisha met Marlies’ gaze. “I know. But my work is not done here. I was hoping you’d come. I had a terrible vision. I’ve seen Commander Zens traversing the Dragons’ Realm via the realm gate, using it to wage war. I told you, Marlies, only use the ring in times of desperation.”
“These have been desperate times, Kisha,” Marlies said.
Kisha nodded. “They are indeed.”
Piaua—Marlies had told Leah they mustn’t get distracted and here she was, forgetting. “I’ve come seeking piaua juice. Is there any in town?”
Kisha shook her head. “The closest piaua tree has been destroyed, and our tree speaker was murdered by tharuks. We ran out of supplies a moon ago.”
Dragon’s claws! “Where can I get some?”
“Many apothecaries have closed in the past moon. The Nightshader crew in Montanara are the only suppliers in this part of the realm. Their prices are so exorbitant only the richest people can afford healing.”
Marlies’ knees faltered. She grabbed the back of a chair.
“Marlies, you’re pale.” Leah patted the chair. “Sit down.”
Marlies gratefully sunk onto the chair.
“I’ll fetch you a cup of peppermint tea.” Kisha whisked out to the kitchen.
“What do we do now?” Leah asked in low voice.
The Nightshader crew. Marlies had last faced them when she’d been younger, living in Montanara, and had just imprinted with Liesar. The leader back then had been Bruno, a nasty bully who’d terrorized the streets, even stealing from littlings. The same Bruno who’d become a master on the Council of the Twelve Dragon Masters, while she and Hans had been gone.
The same Bruno whose son had attacked Ezaara. And who, with his wife, had murdered two dragon masters.
Leah asked again. “What should we do, Marlies?”
Marlies turned to her. “We’ll help Kisha clean up, then pay the Nightshaders a visit.”
Home Again
Marlies neared Montanara in the middle of the night, Leah strapped in front of her, slumped over Liesar’s spinal ridge, asleep, smoke and the scent of dead flesh lingering in the air. Oh, Gods, she was so weary. She’d hoped for a reprieve, a day’s rest. A chance to see her parents for the first time in more than eighteen years.
She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. In war, there was no time for reprieve. She’d have to take what she could get. Hopefully, a soft bed for Leah so the girl could sleep for a few hours before all chaos broke out. She squinted through the darkness. “Liesar, what do you sense? Are there any friendly dragons around?”
Liesar, concentrated, melding with a distant dragon. “There’s been a battle here today.” They neared the township, tendrils of smoke hanging in the air. Thankfully, there were no flames licking toward the sky. “They’re expecting more fighting.” Liesar winged over the rooftops, the occasional candle glimmering in a window, the street lanterns already dark.
“Thank the Egg, you can see better in the dark than I can,” said Marlies. “Do you think you can find my parents’ home?”
“I remember where they live.”
It’d been so long. She’d stopped in a few times after becoming a dragon rider, but when she’d fled Dragons’ Hold after killing Zaarusha’s dragonet, she’d feared for her life and her family. She’d sent her parents a messenger bird once, telling them she was safe. But she hadn’t dared tell them more and left no clue to her whereabouts.
Liesar spiraled down to land in her parents’ back yard, her feet crunching in the snow.
A candle was burning in a bedroom window at the back of the house. Marlies slipped out of the saddle and padded through the snow to the back door. She lifted her hand to knock, and dropped it again. She didn’t want to startle them…
No, that was an excuse. She was afraid to see them.
“Marlies, so fearless in battle. Surely you can face the ones you love. The ones you’ve missed for so long.”
“I don’t know how they feel about me.”
“It’s how you feel that’s important. Do you still love them?’
“Of course.”
“How would you feel if Tomaaz or Ezaara went missing for years, hesitated on your doorstep, then left?”
Devastated. Marlies rapped on the door.
Feet thudded their way toward the door. It opened and a candle flared, illuminating their familiar hallway and her father’s worn face.
She gasped. Her spare cloak and healer’s pouch were still hanging on the hook, right where she’d left them.
“Marlies?” Her father’s brows flew up. He dropped the candle in the snow and flung his arms around her, pulling her tight against his chest. His voice cracked, “You’re home. You’re home again.”
Moments later, she was sobbing in his arms. They clung to each other as the candle sputtered and died in the snow. She was home.
“Who’s there? Where’s the candle?” Ma’s voice had aged. Fumbling came from the hallway. Ma appeared, another candle in hand. The years had been hard on Ma, but her radiant smile made her beautiful. She gasped, eyes wide, and thrust the candle at pa. “You’ve had your turn. Hold this so I can hug my daughter.”
Ma hugged Marlies, then pulled back to look her up and down. “You’re as strong and beautiful as ever.” Cheeks wet with tears, she hugged Marlies again.
Pa sucked in his breath. “Who’s that sleeping on your dragon? Our granddaughter?”
Marlies smiled. “No. Leah’s my trainee healer at Dragons’ Hold. Ezaara, your granddaughter, is now Queen’s Rider. Her twin brother, Tomaaz, is also a rider.”
“Ezaara?” Ma said. “We’ve heard of her bravery, but by the Egg, I had no idea she was my granddaughter.”
Marlies smiled. “Let me bring Leah in and I’ll tell you everything.”
§
Giddi rode at the head of his troop of dragons and riders toward Montanara, power trickling through his veins and coursing through his limbs. It was good to be back in the saddle—literally—as leader of the council on a fine young dragon who’d offered to be his charge. The creature had a delicate balance of courage and intelligence. His keen presence quivered in Giddi’s mind as they soared through the dark.
Giddi mind-melded with Master Aidan, “Any particular battle plan?”
“It
always scares the talons off me when you do that,” confessed the battle master—a big admission for one who usually stood on ceremony. “The plan is to get in, destroy those dragons and get out as fast as we can.”
So, no battle plan at all. Aidan hadn’t seen those dark dragons. He didn’t understand the power of their minds to shred all conscious thought.
“I suggest I practice mind blocking with mages and riders as we journey,” Master Giddi said. “Those screaming dragons make it impossible for riders to think.”
“Good idea.”
Although effective mind blocking took hours of practice, most of the riders had only ever mind-melded with their own dragons, and never with anyone else—until Giddi had recently taught them how to block. Ripples of surprise spread across the troop each time he melded, practicing mind blocks with mages and riders.
He carefully shielded his true thoughts from them—that his own mind blocks hadn’t helped him banish those dark dragons, had only reduced the effect of their screams. A little was better than the alternative, which was nothing at all.
§
Within an hour of Kierion’s arrival at Dragons’ Hold, Lars had dispatched Master Giddi, Master Aidan and Kierion with a troop of riders, dragons, and mages to fight dark dragons in Montanara. Now that the snow had stopped, the world below was silent and white. The rustle of dragon wings and the sighing wind made Kierion restless. He shifted in the saddle. Behind him, Fenni adjusted his grip.
His thoughts flitted to his friends. Hopefully Gret was all right back in Montanara with Danion. But his real concern was Adelina. Her last angry words rang in his head. He’d seen the hope on her face but been too ashamed to meet her gaze, flame it. And now he was fleeing under the guise of duty.
“Kierion, block me.” Master Giddi’s voice made Kierion flinch.
“You want me to practice mind blocking?”
“Yes. Try now.”
He had to fix a picture in his mind, something important to him. Adelina’s face popped into his head.
Master Giddi chuckled. “That’ll do as fine as anything. Although I wouldn’t choose someone you care about or Zens’ minions will torture her to get to you.”
Kierion shook his head and fixed his favorite tree in his mind, one he’d climbed as a littling. The tree burst into mage flame.
Master Giddi chuckled. “Keep practicing. I’ll pop back soon.”
A while later Kierion imagined his cat but was only able to hold the image for a few heartbeats longer.
“What about those archery targets you hate so much?” Riona asked. “You stare at them so long, you should know them well enough.”
“Cheeky monster.” Kierion slapped her hide. “You know the worst thing?”
“Aside from your archery? What?” He slapped her hide again, and she chuckled. “What’s troubling you, Kierion?”
He sighed, letting Adelina’s face flit to mind again. “I didn’t even talk to her.”
“Make sure you do next time,” Riona said, amid the muted murmur of dragon wingbeats.
The next time Master Giddi jumped into Kierion’s thoughts, Kierion took Riona’s advice, holding one of Dragons’ Holds’ archery targets in his head. Pocked with arrow holes, the target had a white ring on the outside, blue middle ring, and a red rim around a black bullseye. Master Giddi jolted and shook the image, but it didn’t budge. Kierion could feel the master mage trying to talk with him but blocked the intrusion with his target, imagining every arrow hole and scar on its pitted surface.
A soft whistle came from ahead. In a flare of mage light, Giddi turned on his dragon and tugged his ear.
Kierion let his block drop.
“At least you’re listening now. I was trying to say well done.”
“Thank you. I don’t know how much mind blocking will help against these dragons,” Kierion replied.
“Anything is better than nothing,” Giddi said. “Now, where can we rest these riders and dragons?”
“Pa’s farm would work.”
“Good, lead the way.”
By the time they reached Montanara, there were no signs of dark dragons in the night sky. Or in the surrounding countryside. Perhaps Danion and his riders had defeated them. Riona landed in the field next to Kierion’s house, the dragons making gouges in the snow.
He and Master Giddi made their way to the farmhouse. The door opened and his father came out, holding up a lantern. “Kierion, it’s you. Who have you brought with you?”
Kierion gestured at the master mage. “Dragon Mage Giddi, meet Pa. Pa, this is Dragon Mage Giddi.”
Pa’s jaw dropped. He shook Giddi’s hand. “My pleasure, Master Giddi. I’ll just get a bed ready for you and make a spot in the barn for your dragon.” He held the lantern up higher to inspect Giddi’s dragon.
A field of dragon scales winked in the light. “H-how many of you are there?”
“Only thirty or forty,” Kierion replied.
Pa’s brows raised.
“Most have blankets and bedrolls, so they can bed snooze in the barn,” Kierion added. “The riders, I mean, not the dragons.”
Pa grinned. “Let’s get to work.”
An hour later, after Kierion fried a bunch of eggs and bacon, and cut thick slabs of bread for the hungry dragon riders, they were all tucked up safely on bedrolls on the floor, in beds three apiece, or out in the barn in the hay.
Pa jerked his head toward the back door, motioning Kierion to follow.
Kierion stepped over sleeping riders on the living room floor, and went outside. “I know, Pa, I’m sorry. I should have given you notice. I should have—”
Pa waved a hand, cutting him off.
“From what those men and women said tonight, you’re a bit of a hero. You captured an evil dragon and mage?”
Kierion shrugged. He wasn’t used to praise from Pa. It tasted odd. “We do what we must to protect people and the realm.”
“A tail flick? You always did have crazy ideas, Son.” There was an awkward pause, then Pa clapped a hand on his shoulder and embraced him. “I’m proud of you.”
Kierion’s throat choked up. From wild prankster to someone his Pa was proud of. For once, he had no reply.
§
Marlies left Leah at home and visited the Montanarian warrior school to call upon her old friend, now the swordmaster.
Hands scarred from fighting, Louis threw his arms around her and hugged her. “Marlies? What a surprise. The years have been good to you.”
She was pretty sure he was lying.
“Come in,” he said, ushering her into an office with a ceremonial sword hanging on the back wall. “You may have run into my daughter at Dragons’ Hold. Gret’s her name.”
“A fine rider, Louis. She has your eyes and your aptitude with a sword… although her hair’s not as curly.”
He gestured to two overstuffed armchairs. “Take a seat.”
“Thank you.” Marlies sat, and he took the other chair.
“I’m assuming that, in the midst of battle, you haven’t come just to catch up. How can I help?”
“We’ve run out of piaua juice at Dragons’ Hold. I’m master healer again, and we desperately need supplies to heal our wounded. Where can I get some in Montanara? Is old Maud still around?”
“Dead, a year now.”
It had been too much to hope that the old healer who’d trained her was still alive. But even so…
Louis shook his head grimly. “The Nightshader crew have taken over supply of healing remedies in the city. The flaming criminals have priced everything at a premium.”
So, Kisha was right. “And the Montanara guard? I thought they would’ve run them out of town.”
“A new man, calls himself the Captain, set up shop here a couple of years ago. Took over Bruno’s crew. A slippery fellow—hard to pin anything on him, although one of his assassins has gone to the gallows recently. He’s a tough, old ex-pirate. Quick with a blade, and runs a tight ship—excuse the pun.” Louis paus
ed. “You’re not going to see him, are you?”
Marlies sighed. “As unpleasant as it may be, I have no choice. We must find piaua juice or our riders will die in droves.”
§
Marlies tugged her cloak around her against the swirling snow. Although magicked to protect her from damp, it was still cold. She trudged through soot-blackened slush passing dead tharuks, tusked snouts open and glassy red eyes staring at the overcast sky. More tharuks, very much alive, milled around the street, although it was early. She avoided their gazes, head down, striding to Nightshade Alley.
Memories cascaded through her of the time she’d fought Bruno—he’d been hurting littlings, stealing, and beating up Louis—back before Giant John had taught her and Louis to fight. Back before she’d met Liesar, or healed Master Giddi. Back when she’d been young and full of life.
Her bones ached. Curse those flaming berries.
Steeling herself, she strode up the steps to the Brothers’ Arms. The building was just as she remembered it, although the paint was now faded and chipped, the gaudy sign weathered. Marlies stamped the snow off her boots and entered the tavern.
Yes, just the same. A few patrons, looking worse for wear, were seated at battle-scarred tables in the dingy interior. The place smelled of ale, and it was barely breakfast time. Her old archenemy Rona was serving behind the bar. With her own eyes changed to turquoise after years of riding Liesar, perhaps Rona wouldn’t recognize her. Perhaps. Tugging her hood forward to obscure her face, Marlies swaggered up to the bar with a confidence she didn’t feel. “I’m here to see the captain,” she said in a tone that brooked no opposition.
Rona—now the proud owner of a nose ring and some badly drawn dragon tattoos—squinted at her, then gestured to the door at the back of the taproom where Bruno’s old headquarters had been. With a curt nod, Marlies strode across the tavern, knocked on the door, and stepped inside.
A dark-haired man sat at the far side of a table. Dragons tattoos on his forearms flexing, the captain dropped his cutlery onto a tray full of fried eggs, bacon and beans. His face broke into a feral grin, stretching the rough stitches on his cheek and exposing half a dozen blackened teeth. His eyes roved over her as if he owned her.
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