Riders of Fire Complete Series Box Set books 1-6: YA Epic Fantasy Dragon Rider Adventures
Page 172
Kisha swallowed. “The tavern was running out of ale, and there were too many tharuks for me to fight, so I fled.” She turned to Hana. “Thanks for saving my skin. I was a goner back there.”
Hana gave her an easy, careless grin. “Anytime.”
Kadran patted her shoulder. “You did well to get out. Now get some rest.”
Katrine reached out to squeeze her hand. “We’re glad to welcome you into Anakisha’s Warriors. There are pockets of us throughout Last Stop, fighting Commander Zens and his monsters.”
For the first time since her parents had died, Kisha didn’t feel alone.
§
Kisha rolled over on the bedroll. Kadran, Katrine, and Hana were already asleep, but she couldn’t get comfortable. She tossed and turned, and finally drifted into a fitful sleep.
Anakisha’s spirit wisped toward her, those bright blue eyes, the mirror of her own, piercing Kisha to the core.
Kisha was kneeling under a tavern table as tharuks brawled around her. A tankard smashed and its wooden shards skittered under the table, hitting her knees. The boots of furry beasts tromped past her, grinding wood chips into the floor, the way they’d grind her if they caught her. Her hands trembled. Her breath caught in her throat. “Grandmother, I have to abandon the inn. I’m sorry.”
“Abandon the inn? No, my littling, you must stay.”
A tharuk thudded on top of the table, its arm hanging limply off the edge. Dark blood dribbled off the tabletop, fat black drops hitting the floor. “But the inn’s been overtaken by rampaging tharuks.”
“You must stay.”
“How much longer? What must I do?” A thud overhead. Sharp claws gripped the edge of the table. The tharuk snuffled. Its tusks and snout appeared over the edge. The monster’s beady eyes gleamed.
“Follow your heart. You’ll know when the time is right.”
The tharuk snatched up Kisha and ripped out her throat.
§
Someone grabbed Kisha. Within a heartbeat, she was awake and had palmed her dagger.
Kadran backed away. “I was just shaking you awake. It’s all right, Kisha, you’re with me, Kadran. And Katrine and Hana—Anakisha’s Warriors. We’re your friends, remember?”
Heart still bashing against her ribs, Kisha thrust her dagger back in its sheath and grimaced. She’d grown used to sleeping with a dagger under her pillow in case tharuks pummeled down her door. “Sorry, old habits die hard.” Gods, what an awful nightmare.
Roars outside made the building shudder. Boots stomped down the streets. How in the name of the First Egg had she slept through that?
Kadran handed Kisha her cloak. “The tharuks are restless tonight and shadow dragons are on the prowl. Want an adventure?” He winked and passed her a bow and quiver.
Katrine placed a hand on Kadran’s arm, shooting him a warning glance. “Don’t be too eager. I don’t want to be responsible for the death of Anakisha’s heir.”
“We’ll take it easy tonight,” Kadran said to Katrine. “We won’t go for a large troop of tharuks, just pick off some isolated beasts. All over the village, other members of Anakisha’s Warriors are doing the same. We’ll keep Kisha safe.”
Kisha threw on her cloak, bristling and eyes blazing. “I can take care of myself. I’ve done so for years while hundreds of tharuks visited my tavern.” Gods, she’d hoped she’d left that all behind, but now after her dream, she wasn’t so sure.
“A fact I don’t dispute,” Katrine said. “We’ve been hunting tharuks here for years, too, but I’d hate to face Anakisha in the land of long-departed dragons and tell her I was responsible for her granddaughter’s death before she was fully grown.”
Kisha bristled again. “I’m nearly fifteen summers.”
“Same age as Hana.” Kadran clapped her shoulder. “It’s all right, Kisha. Katrine and I are just hoping you’ll have another twenty summers.”
Waiting near the window in her cloak with her bow slung over her back, Hana rolled her eyes. “Come on. She’ll be fine; we all will. Let’s get going.” Hana climbed on to the window sill and headed up the rope.
Katrine followed.
“I’ll be right behind you,” Kadran said, giving Kisha an encouraging smile.
Cold nipped at Kisha as she clambered up, arms aching by the time she got onto the snowy roof.
“Here.” Hana’s teeth flashed in a grim smile as she handed Kisha some furs for her boots.
“Good idea.” Kisha took them. She didn’t want to slip on the snowy tiles and land on the cobbles far below.
They sat on the ridge of the roof and tied the furs around the soles of their boots, then sneaked along the ridge until they came to a gap. The next building was only an arm’s length away, but Kisha’s heart pounded as she looked at the drop.
“Follow me,” Hana whispered and leaped to the next roof without a second thought.
Kisha fastened her gaze upon Hana’s face, took a deep breath and jumped over the gap. She landed, tiles barking her knees.
Hana grasped her by the armpits and hauled her to her feet. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? You’ll get used to this. We’ve been doing it for ages.”
Heart pounding, Kisha nodded as Kadran and Katrine landed on the tiles. They all crept further along the rooftops. Tharuks’ boots stomped on the cobbles below. Katrine motioned, and the four of them dropped flat on the rooftop until the beasts had passed. Around a corner, roars and snarls broke out.
“Commander Zens and his troops are up to no good tonight,” Kadran muttered.
Well, that was the truth—they’d been up to no good for years. Kisha heard the unmistakable rustle of wingbeats. All four of them snapped their heads up, eyes scanning the dark skies.
“Dragons,” hissed Hana.
Many of them, by the sound of those wingbeats.
“Good or evil?” Katrine asked.
Rumors had been rife about the terrible shadow dragons recently plaguing the land. Just last week, the blue guards had killed three shadow dragons outside Last Stop. But a few days ago, things had gone quiet. Then tharuks had flooded the village.
Kisha and her friends readied their bows.
§
The crackle of shadow dragon flame made Ithsar’s arm hairs stand on end as they flew toward the village of Last Stop. The wind was chilly, nipping at her through her robes and the heavy archers’ cloak that Stefan had given her. Nearby, Fangora skittered and bucked, eager to go into battle.
“That young one is always so keen to fight.” Saritha tossed her head. “One day, he’ll get his scales charred and learn a lesson.”
“Hopefully, not today.” It was more likely they’d all be charred. They weren’t even at the main battle front, and ahead, the night sky was lighting up like the fire sticks at the Naobian markets. But these were not fire sticks—they were shadow dragons blasting fire and killing innocent people.
Ithsar drew her bow out of the saddlebag and pulled an arrow from her quiver. She nocked her bow as they flew over the town toward the other side where dark beasts were snarling.
“Remember Ezaara’s message and be wary,” Ithsar said. “These dragons shoot beams from their eyes that’ll slice your skin open.”
Saritha rumbled.
Although the air was chill, heat roiled toward them as they approached. The dark beasts wheeled in the sky, flapping their ragged wings and shooting spouts of flame onto houses. Screams rang out from the villagers, and stomping echoed from below as furry beasts stalked through the township. Something in Ithsar’s bones shuddered. There was something other about those dragons—something wrong. Their sathir was a roiling dark blanket that coalesced around them, lit up by plumes of flame. Their snarls skittered down her bones.
Saritha rumbled and opened her maw. A shadow dragon wheeled to attack them, its high-pitched screaming splitting through Ithsar’s skull. She tensed her jaw and aimed her arrow. The beast swept closer, yellow beams shooting from its eyes, slicing dangerously close to Saritha.
Ithsar shot another arrow, missing as the dragon swerved past her. Once again, shrieking filled her head. The next time, she shot the beast right through the eye.
In a flash of green wings, Goren, the green guard leader, speared past Saritha and gave Ithsar an encouraging nod.
That was probably as close to approval as she was going to get, so Ithsar nodded back and smiled. That man’s heart was as hard as camel toenails. She nocked her arrow and spun to aim at another feral shadow dragon. Her arrow flew true, hitting the beast in the temple. Golden beams sprang from its eyes and sliced toward her. But Saritha plunged and shot a volley of flame at the beast’s belly.
Suddenly, ten beasts were upon them. Stefan whooped as he and Fangora shot forward, flaming a black dragon until it fell from the sky. Nila and Misha wheeled, scales blurring in the flame from shadow dragons’ maws as they fought to vanquish their enemy. Saritha roared gusts of flame at anything with ragged dark wings, and Ithsar shot arrow after arrow into their skulls, chests, and eyes.
§
Stefan hunched down over Fangora’s neck as they raced over the rooftops. Screams rose from an alley. Two tharuks were chasing a littling through the streets.
Fangora roared. “That’s not playing fair, so many of them chasing a littling. Those filthy stinking beasts reek from way up here. Let’s get them.”
“I’m with you.” Stefan nocked his arrow and aimed, loosing it. The arrow thwacked into a tharuk’s back. It slumped to the cobbles, but the other one kept running. The littling glanced back, screaming, and slipped in a patch of snow.
Stefan flung his bow onto his back, dragged a rope from the saddlebags, and tied it onto Fangora’s saddle. “I’m going down, Fangora. Swoop so I can get between those buildings.”
Fangora descended. Stefan grabbed the rope and jumped. The jolt made his dragon list to one side and nearly yanked Stefan’s shoulders from his sockets. “Sorry.” Arms burning, he lowered himself, hand over hand, down the rope. He swung between the buildings and aimed his boots at the beast chasing the littling. He kicked the tharuk in the head, knocking it to the ground. Stefan dropped to the cobbles and scooped the littling up in his arms.
She sobbed and howled.
Gods, he had to do something to keep her quiet. He reached into his pocket for his chocolate and unwrapped it, shoving it at the girl’s mouth. She bit into it, her eyes wide with wonder.
“Now be nice and quiet. We’re going to hide from the monster.” Stefan spun and dashed off down a side alley, the littling jostling against his side. There was a roar behind him. The tharuk he’d knocked over was already after them. “Where do you live?” Stefan asked.
She shrugged, eyes wide and bottom lip trembling. Gods, oh gods, he was playing nursemaid to a littling in the middle of battle—some great warrior he was. Roars echoing behind him and flame lighting up the sky, Stefan pelted around a corner…
…and smacked into a group of three tharuks.
A beast whirled, claws out, and threw Stefan and the girl against the stone masonry of a decrepit building. Stefan cradled the girl against the impact and hit the stone with his shoulder. He scrambled to his feet and tugged the girl to hers as the monsters advanced. Gods, his shoulder was throbbing.
A burly tharuk with a jagged scar along its snout snarled, “Bought us a littling, have you?” Saliva dribbled off its tusks, splattering onto the cobbles. The three tharuks prowled toward him, claws out.
He thrust the littling behind him, near the wall, and pulled out his knives, one in each hand. “Run,” he whispered.
She scampered off around the building.
A small beast swiped at him with its claws, barely missing Stefan’s face. He ducked, the swish of air whistling past his cheek, its claws snagging on the end of his hair and ripping out a clump.
“Plenty more where that came from,” he muttered, scalp burning. Regaining his footing, he chucked a knife at the beast’s chest. But the tharuk dodged and his stupid knife bounced off its shoulder and slid across the cobbles, slamming against the building on the other side of the alley.
Great—one knife against three monsters. If only he hadn’t left his sword in his dragon’s saddlebag. Who’d have thought he’d need it on dragonback?
Fangora roared, shaking snow from the roof of the building above. A smattering landed on Stefan’s hair, but a heavy clump hit the tharuk, distracting it. Stefan lunged and thrust his knife at the beast.
The tharuk swung its arm and sent the weapon flying out of Stefan’s hand. The knife ricocheted off the building and clunked to the cobbles.
Stefan swallowed, backing up. Now he had no weapons, only his wits and his dragon. “Fangora, where are you?”
“Can you get away from those beasts?”
Before Stefan had a chance to tell Fangora he was cornered, a gust of flame and blistering heat roiled down through the alley. He dived onto the ground as the fire hit a tharuk. It fell screaming to the cobbles. The stench of burned fur and fried meat clogged the narrow alley.
The burnt ends of Stefan’s hair stank too. Gods, his dragon was too young, keen and fire-ready. “Ah, you nearly burned me too,” Stefan mind-melded. “I might have to manage this alone.” He scrambled to his feet as the remaining two tharuks got to theirs and lunged for him. They hit Stefan like a wave, slamming him to the ground and pinning him against the cobbles. One tharuk straddled his legs and the other squeezed its furry hands around his throat, its claws piercing his skin. Warm, wet blood trickled down his neck.
“Fangora?” No answer. Oh gods. Stefan swallowed. This was it.
Last Stop
Ithsar hunched low over Saritha as her dragon flamed a bunch of monsters fighting people in the village square. “It’s no good, Saritha. If I fire my arrows, I might hurt the villagers.”
“I’ll let you down.” Saritha swooped down between the snow-laden buildings into the square and Ithsar slipped from her saddle.
As the queen took to the sky, Ithsar exhaled forcefully, trying to expel the stench of burning fur from her nostrils, and snatched an arrow from her quiver. Misha swooped down on Ramisha. Her dragon snatched up two tharuks in his talons, knocking their heads against each other, and tossed them to the cobbles where they bounced, then lay still. Screams of women and littlings rang from the nearby alleys. Men bellowed, rushing off with their swords ready.
Upon the rooftops, foul shadow beasts breathed fire down at the men rushing to defend their families. Purple rippling stains, so dark they were almost black, wreathed the vicious creatures—the shadow dragons’ sathir. Ithsar shot a shadow dragon in the eye. It plummeted, shrieking, to the square below, its legs thrashing against the ground. Even in its death throes, a yellow beam bounced from its good eye, slashing at nearby villagers.
“Quick, Saritha, before it hurts anyone else.”
Saritha swooped down and burned the beast. Ramisha landed and Misha dismounted.
Ithsar and Misha raced toward the fighting tharuks. Ithsar fired an arrow, and hit a tharuk in the thigh. It collapsed onto the cobbles, howling, and swiped its claws across a man’s leg. Crimson stained the snow as the man staggered toward another tharuk and drove his sword through its neck. The beast twitched and then lay still. The man spun to meet another beast, his sword striking its breastplate and glancing off. Then he stumbled to one knee while still trying to fight off the monsters.
Ithsar flung her bow over her shoulder and yanked her saber from its sheath, charging into the fray. Her first blow took out a small wiry tharuk that had just killed a littling.
“That horrible beast, picking on small ones.” Saritha swooped and plucked up a tharuk, ripping it apart with her talons.
A tharuk whirled, arm flung high to slash a man’s throat. Ithsar lunged and drove her saber under its armpit, behind its breastplate. Dark sticky blood spurted from the beast’s mouth. Its eyes glazed over and it slumped to the cobbles in an ever-spreading pool of black fluid.
Still more tharuks came. Ramisha flamed a group of tharuks, driving them back from the mouth of an alley to stop them from entering the square. Nila and her dragon, Nilanna, thudded to the square, and Nila raced over. Nilanna shredded a tharuk with her talons and then leaped into the air to fend off a shadow dragon.
Nila and Misha dived in, years of training kicking in as they whirled and spun, slaughtering the beasts with skill and precision that Ithsar hadn’t even realized they’d possessed. Ithsar swung her saber beside them, the thrill of the battle singing through her veins. The bodies of the tharuks piled up. Soon, there were only a few left fighting.
A littling burst into the square, screaming about monsters and pointing back down an alley. “Help him,” she screamed. “A dragon rider, trapped by tharuks.”
The girl’s face was covered in chocolate stains. Ithsar’s heart sank. “Saritha, where are Fangora and Stefan?”
“I don’t know,” Saritha answered, flinging a tharuk against a building. The beast’s body hit the stone and crumpled.
Only two tharuks remained in the square. Ithsar had to find Stefan. “Where’s the dragon rider?” Ithsar barked at the littling.
The littling’s face crumpled into tears as she pointed back down the alley.
Blood thrumming through her veins, Ithsar ran. She pounded around a corner and stopped, her blood chilling.
Stefan was lying on the ground, an enormous tharuk crouched over him with its claws digging into his throat. Another straddled his legs, pinning him in place. Stefan gurgled and spluttered, blood running from his neck.