Riders of Fire Complete Series Box Set books 1-6: YA Epic Fantasy Dragon Rider Adventures

by Eileen Mueller

  Roberto struck home, driving his blade through the tharuk’s eye.

  000 slumped to the earth. Its head rolled to the side. Dark blood foamed around the blade and leaked onto the ground, leaving a black stain.

  “No!” With a bellow of rage and grief, Zens raced at 000, his bulging biceps—larger than most men’s thighs—flexing. Zens scooped up 000. “You killed my lovely. My pride and joy.” Tears escaped Zens’ eyes as his face contorted in grief and anger.

  Towering over Roberto, Zens snarled and tossed 000 aside.

  Zens was much bigger, his reach longer, but Roberto had an advantage—Zens, in his arrogance, had assumed he could defeat any foe with his mental talents, so he’d failed to bring a sword.

  The commander flung out a hand and cocked his head, frowning.

  In moments, he’d realize he could no longer penetrate Roberto’s mind. It was now or never. Grateful for his opaline headband, Roberto lunged, aiming straight for Zens’ chest. The commander whirled, springing up and kicking Roberto’s sword from his hand. It skittered across the stones. Roberto dashed, stones crunching underfoot, and snatched it. He spun, facing Zens.

  Again, that cruel laughter rang around the riverbank, bouncing off the cliff face. “You’ll die today to pay for what you’ve done.”

  Zens leaped through the air with a jump Roberto would have thought impossible, his foot aiming for Roberto’s chest. Roberto rolled and scrambled to his feet to slash at Zens’ back. He missed. The commander spun into a crouch and then flew at Roberto, his hands grasping for his neck.

  Roberto sidestepped. The commander fell heavily onto the ground. Zens rolled and grabbed Roberto’s ankle, pulling him off balance.

  Roberto’s shoulder hit the stones. He sprawled on the ground. Zens scrambled on top of him, pinning his chest with his torso and wrapping his legs around his, immobilizing him.

  Roberto thrashed his arms and swung his sword, but the angle was wrong for a killing blow.

  Zens ripped off his headband, and his large hands closed around his neck. “You pompous dragon rider, I’ll throttle you like a weak and lowly slave.” The commander’s breath blasted him. His hands tightened around Roberto’s windpipe.

  Roberto gurgled. Shards. He struggled for breath. Spots of light sprang before his eyes.

  “Die, you cursed worm. Die.” Zens’ thoughts rippled through Roberto’s head.

  He melded with his dragon, “Erob!”

  “Your mind is no longer barricaded,” Zens sneered in his head.

  Gods, last time he’d been captured, Commander Zens had thrown him around the cavern with the force of his thoughts. He was as good as dead.

  “No, you’re not.” The tip of Erob’s blue wing flashed beyond the trees. “Last time, I wasn’t there to aid you.”

  A wave of Erob’s power rippled through Roberto. His veins thrummed with fire. His body roiling with dragon energy, he rolled, toppling Zens off him, and surged to his feet.

  “Never forget that you’re a Rider of Fire,” Erob called.

  Power thrummed through Roberto—and anger.

  On his knees, Zens flung a hand at Roberto. “Choke and die, scum.”

  An invisible band tightened around Roberto’s neck.

  Zens laughed, thrusting his fingers out and clenching them.

  The band tightened. Zens’ jeers ricocheted through Roberto’s head like a landslide.

  “No, Zens. You’ve destroyed enough already.” Dragon power surged through Roberto. His veins, his muscles, his very bones burned until they were molten with heat.

  The hold on his throat broke. Roberto drew in deep breaths.

  “You burned me,” Zens cried, shaking his hand. He flung his hand out again, but nothing happened. With a cry of frustration, he tried to scramble to his feet, but Roberto thrust out his foot and kicked Zens to the ground. In a heartbeat, his sword was poised at Zens’ throat.

  The commander lay on the stone, his massive chest heaving. “Go on, kill me.”

  Roberto hesitated.

  “You don’t have it in you, do you?” Zens sneered. “You were always a coward, too weak to torture or maim.”

  Roberto took a deep breath, clenching the pommel with both hands, ready to drive his blade through this monster’s blasted throat.

  But images flashed to mind—scenes Roberto had seen in Zens’ nightmares when they’d accidentally mind-melded in Death Valley. Zens as a littling, strapped to a metal workbench, strange implements from his world around him. Zens’ father locking him in a cupboard, refusing to let him out, and then beating him when he’d wet himself in terror. His mother and father had malformed his body and mind, turning him into this monster and making him an ugly subject of ridicule. Roberto had seen the bullies teasing Zens for being so strange—and felt the pleasure rushing through Zens as he’d stopped the taunting—by leaving a boy who’d tormented him dead on the floor.

  Despite everything he’d done, this evil monster was the result of his parents’ actions.

  Roberto understood that sense of helplessness, that desire to punish the world for being wronged. He’d experienced helplessness during his father’s beatings. And a burning vengeance that could’ve destroyed him.

  Zens smiled, his enormous yellow eyes glinting. “See, I knew you couldn’t do it. You’re not strong enough.”

  Roberto should kill Zens. He had to. This monster had destroyed so many lives.

  But over and over again, Roberto saw Zens’ cruel father locking him in the cupboard, and the littling Zens whimpering when he’d needed to pee—his father’s refusal to let him out and, buttocks burning with urine burns, Zens cleaning up the mess while his father bellowed.

  Echoing Roberto’s own father’s bellows of rage.

  If it wasn’t for Erob and Ezaara, he could’ve been the same. Trapped in a hell of hate and torture.

  Zens’ silky voice caressed Roberto’s ears. “Come, Roberto, together you and I could—”

  A sword flashed past Roberto.

  Zens’ gut was rent, blood staining his shirt. A moment later, Ezaara drove her sword two-handed through Zens’ throat. Blood sprayed over Zens’ face and ran down the blade embedded in his neck.

  Ezaara panted, staring at Roberto. “Are you all right?” she huffed. “I had to do it. After what he’s done to you, to our people...” Her voice trailed off. Eyes wide, chest rising and falling, she struggled to regain her breath.

  Roberto’s gaze fell to Zens’ bleeding body. Yes, he and Zens had been shaped by their parents’ evil actions, but he’d chosen differently.

  Ezaara pushed her boot against Zens’ shoulder and yanked her sword out of his neck. Stepping back, she spun, revealing a bloody gash on her sword arm.

  “Oh gods, your arm.”

  “That’s why I used both hands to kill him.”

  Roberto slashed a strip off his shirt and bound her bicep. “There’s a rumor we now have piaua. We’ll get your wound seen to.” He picked up his opaline headband, then barked, “Erob, burn him.”

  As he led Ezaara away, his dragon landed behind them, turning Zens’ body into a flaming heap.

  Ezaara took off her headband. “My right hand’s free now,” Ezaara melded, hefting her sword in her left and holding her hand out to him.

  Roberto grasped Ezaara’s hand. “Look at the mess.”

  The riverbank was littered with tharuk body parts and char. The river seethed with strangleton tendrils as they feasted on the dark dragon’s carcass and tharuk corpses. On the other side of the riverbank, Zaarusha flamed a tharuk troop. Now that the commander was dead, tharuks on this side of the river were fleeing through the bushes.

  Roberto pulled Ezaara into his arms. Never wanting to let her go again.

  Above them, the sky roiled with fire. Flashes of gold and streaks of blue stabbed through the flames to incinerate dark dragons. Thick clumps of ash floated down, coating the river, the dark dragon’s remains, the tharuk corpses scattered over the riverbank. Ash flakes fell into
their hair. Onto their faces.

  Heart pounding, Roberto clung to Ezaara, her heartbeat thrumming against his chest as she held him tight.

  Return to Dragons’ Hold

  As dragons battled the remaining few shadow dragons and fake mages, the sky blazing with blue, green, and yellow flames, Giddi felt the sathir in the environment around him lighten, as if a great shadow had lifted. Instantly, he knew Zens was dead.

  Mazyka’s eyes met his and the words fell from her lips, “Zens is gone.”

  It was the end of an era marked by bloodshed, slavery, and wanton killing. And the beginning of a new era, which he’d face hand-in-hand with Mazyka. “By the dragon gods, I’ve missed you,” he said.

  Mazyka’s eyes shone. “I felt like I was only half alive without you.”

  He kissed her, cupping her face in his hands. Her hair swirled in the breeze from hundreds of wings above. Behind her, the dragons who’d had their crystals removed still slumbered, slumped over the shadow beast’s carcass. Giddi slid his fingers down Mazyka’s neck to touch the teardrop-shaped crystal resting against the exquisite porcelain skin under her collar bone. “These saved us.”

  “They did. You know that with these we can go back to Zens’ world any time”

  He arched an eyebrow.

  She laughed. “That’s one thing I never forgot about you—your eyebrows.” She traced one with her fingertip.

  Giddi kissed the tip of her nose. “You created enough havoc going through last time. I don’t think we’ll be doing that again anytime soon.”

  “Zens came from an amazing world with technology and science.”

  Giddi frowned. “With what?”

  “Well…” She tilted her head. “Science is like magic. It takes a long time to learn. First, I was overwhelmed, but, little by little, I started to understand. Eventually I trained and became a doctor and scientist myself. Technology is the magic of making things.”

  Giddi frowned again. “If you understand all that magic, does that make you a master wizard in Zens’ world?” Mazyka’s laugh reminded Giddi of a tinkling stream. Sathir coursed through him. He reached for her hand, feeling years younger—ready to face the world and finally be the leader of the Wizard Council and the master mage that Dragons’ Realm so desperately needed. She bit the edge of her lip. Even after all these years, the familiarity of her old habit knifed through him.

  “No, I’m not a master wizard,” Mazyka said. “A doctor is like an advanced healer. A scientist understands life around us. I could take you there and show you, although, now that I’m back, I’d like to stay.”

  “Perhaps we should visit Zens’ caverns where he grows tharuks. You might be able to make sense of his, um, what did you call it?”

  “Science? Technology?”

  “Yes, that stuff.” Giddi glanced around.

  Lars and Aidan were issuing orders. Blue dragons were landing in the churned-up mud of the clearing. Their riders were loading passengers onto dragons to leave for the hold. More dragons fanned out over the forest to scout for remaining tharuks or shadow dragons. Ezaara and Roberto landed and a cheer rippled through the clearing.

  “Let’s slip away quickly and make sure Zens doesn’t have reinforcements growing in his caverns.”

  Mazyka nodded. “Makes sense. Serana has gone to help the healers. I doubt anyone else will notice.”

  She held her crystal and Giddi held his. Sathir hummed between them, growing in intensity as threads of gold ran from her fingers and silver from his. When the threads reached each other and intertwined, they were enveloped in billowing gold clouds. Giddi pictured Zens’ work caverns in his mind. They shot through the glowing clouds and landed on their feet in ankle-deep water in the cavern where he’d been held captive.

  The benches and beds were buckled. Zens’ equipment was smashed. The stench of stale mage flame and burned flesh hung in the cavern. Char decorated the rocky walls.

  Mazyka wrinkled her nose. “I saw this place through the world gate when we mind-melded. Is this where Zens implanted you with methimium?”

  “No, he did that with arrows in battle. This is where he made fake mages.”

  “Ah, cloning,” Mazyka muttered.

  “I didn’t see Anakisha in the realm gate,” Giddi said. “Since she died, her spirit has usually guided our passage. I wonder what happened to her?” He scratched his beard, looking around at the mess. “Come with me.” He led Mazyka into Zens’ laboratory.

  Floating ash swirled around their ankles as they splashed through the water. Bodies of half-burnt tharuks and shadow dragons blocked the gutters and drains. The huge tanks at the rear of the cavern were now nothing but jagged shards jutting above the waterline.

  “What’s this?” Mazyka asked, pointing to a door tucked behind a rocky outcrop.

  “I’ve never noticed that before. We should probably take a look.”

  Mazyka opened the door. Giddi conjured a mage light. The green blob of flame lit up a small area and a few stairs leading up to a larger cavern.

  They sloshed through the water and ascended the stairs. Mazyka mind-melded, “I’m glad not to have wet boots anymore.”

  “Are your boots not waterproof?” Giddi asked, glancing down at the durable silver fabric. “Perhaps you need to rub the leather with pig fat.”

  “Gortex is waterproof without the need for, um, pig fat. I was just glad not to be standing in tharuk soup.”

  Giddi’s laugh came out as a bark.

  The mage light bobbed ahead of them, illuminating two glass boxes the size of coffins. Giddi approached, holding his hands at the ready. Mazyka strode confidently over and pushed a knob on the wall. Everything was suddenly bathed in a yellow methimium-powered glow.

  Giddi doused his puny mage light and gasped. Two bodies were prone in the glass boxes. “Oh, my holy dragon gods. Yanir.” He fell to his knees, arms on the glass lid to the box holding Yanir, Anakisha’s husband, immersed in clear liquid.

  “And Anakisha.” Mazyka’s voice echoed in the rocky chamber. Something hissed.

  Giddi rose and came over to Mazyka. Anakisha’ body was not immersed in fluid, but had long tubes running into her mouth and arms from small metal boxes with blinking green lights. One of the metal boxes hissed and the other buzzed quietly, like a hummingbird’s wings. Anakisha’s skin was covered in wrinkles. “What in the Egg’s name are those?” Giddi waved his hand at the boxes.

  “A life support system.” Mazyka gestured at tubes running into Anakisha’s mouth and arms. “These supply Anakisha with everything she needs to stay alive. See how her chest is rising and falling? That’s because this tube provides air. The other tube provides food straight into her blood.”

  Food in her blood made no sense, but Mazyka had said Zens’ magic wasn’t easily understood. “And Yanir? He doesn’t have any tubes. Is he alive too?”

  Mazyka turned to Yanir’s tank. “No, he’s dead, but preserved in saline, a salty solution.”

  Oh gods. “Zens pickled our King’s Rider like an onion.” The very thought had Giddi’s fingers twitching and dying to fling mage flame at a wall.

  In a billow of gold cloud, a transparent shimmering figure appeared.

  “Anakisha!” Giddi and Mazyka spoke at the same time.

  Anakisha’s spirit held out her hands. “I implore you, release me. Turn off Zens’ magic and let me be free.”

  “And Yanir?” Mazyka asked. “What should we do with his body?”

  “Release him too. We belong with our kin. Please take us back to the Lost King Inn at Last Stop to be laid to rest.”

  Giddi addressed Anakisha’s spirit. “To Kisha, your granddaughter. Wouldn’t you rather we brought her here for a last chance to talk to you? What about Zaarusha? She’ll want to talk to you too.”

  Anakisha shook her head. “No, this is unnatural. Let us go, so we can fly with departed dragons.”

  For a moment, Giddi hesitated. So many people and dragons would give a talon to have one last chance to
speak with their beloved ex-Queen’s Rider.

  Mazyka shot Giddi a shrewd look. “So be it,” she said. “Farewell, Anakisha. I’m sorry I let you down.” Bright tears glimmered on Mazyka’s cheeks.

  “And I am too,” Giddi bowed his head, throat tight.

  “You’re both forgiven. Tell Lars I said that, and give my love to Taliesin, Kisha, Roberto, and all of my grandchildren. Give my love to Ezaara too.” Anakisha’s spirit hovered over her body for a moment, then sank into the flesh and disappeared.

  The hiss and hum of Zens’ metal boxes was the only sound in the cavern. In her lidless glass box, Anakisha’s chest rose and fell in an even rhythm. Strange that he hadn’t noticed that before, only now, when it was about to stop.

  Mazyka laid her hand on a slim rectangle on the metal box. “Ready?” she melded.

  He’d never be ready. He’d thought he’d lost their beloved Queen’s Rider so many years ago, only to lose her again now. Giddi nodded.

  Mazyka pressed the rectangular thing on the box. There was a click. A tiny red light flashed three times, then the hissing stopped. Anakisha’s chest was still. With another click, Mazyka turned off the other box.

  Giddi’s breath rasped from his chest. Mazyka opened her arms and he stepped into her embrace willingly, burying his face in her hair. She held him, crooning, as his chest shuddered with grief.

  §

  A cluster of brown guards were gathered at the northern end of Mage Gate’s clearing, their dragons’ hides flecked with dark ash. When Esina thudded to the ground, two short riders broke off from the group, striding toward them. Leah recognized Darynn and Eryk instantly. She and Taliesin dismounted and ran to meet them.

  “Is it time for you to go?” Leah asked Darynn.

  Darynn nodded and grasped her hand. “We’re humbled that you chose to visit us in your hour of need, but we must get back to our people. Will you visit us soon to replenish our piaua supplies?”

  “I will,” Leah said. “Thank you so much for helping to save Dragons’ Realm.” She flung her arms around Darynn, then he stepped aside to hug Taliesin.