“Dragons and riders patrol the outer rim of the Grande Alps, keeping the passes free of tharuks.” Pa clutched his arm. “Something’s happened. Something terrible caused that beacon fire. You and I must be prepared. We’ll stand with Ernst and Ana and anyone else who’ll join us.”
They reached the house, and Hans opened the door, ushering Tomaaz inside.
Tomaaz sank into a chair by the hearth and tugged off his boots. “What made you and Ma become dragon riders?”
Pa tossed some kindling on the hearth, and kneeled to blow on the embers. “My mother was enslaved by tharuks.” He blew again. The kindling caught, and the fire flared to life. “Dragons and riders battled to free fifty slaves. Only six survived. Most were too injured to go far. Others had been broken with numlock, their minds chained so they couldn’t run to the dragons rescuing them.” Pa tossed a small log on the fire. “My sister was one of the wounded. Whipped for defending my mother, she could only hobble. My mother ran, half dragging her, but a tharuk arrow hit Evelyn in the chest and she died in Ma’s arms.” A ragged sigh tore from Pa’s chest. “A dragon carried them both away—Evelyn to her grave, and my mother home to us.”
That was an awful violent death. How had Pa’s mother felt, taking her dead daughter home?
“That day, I swore I’d become a dragon rider and fight tharuks.” Pa strode to a drawer and pulled out their hunting knives, tossing one to Tomaaz. “Keep your weapons near when you sleep. If tharuks attack, we’ll meet them head on.” Pa gave a grim chuckle. “I hoped that it would never come to this, but it’s the reason Ma and I taught you and Ezaara to fight.”
“You what?” Tomaaz gaped. “All those races, the endless archery practice, the sword fights, were a ruse to train us for combat?” He’d never thought their bouts were any more than fun.
“Think of it as preparation for life.”
A life he’d never imagined. “How do you fight a tharuk?”
“Son. It’s late. Tomorrow I’ll teach you, Lofty, and anyone else who’s keen, how to fight those monsters. The best we can do now is get some rest.”
It took Tomaaz forever to get to sleep. When he finally drifted off, he dreamed of Ezaara, battling monsters from dragonback, high on a mountain pass.
Tomaaz awoke to pounding.
Tharuks! It had to be! Within moments, he had his sword and knives at his belt and was tying his boot laces. He rushed into the living room.
Pa was frozen, staring at the door. The wood was quivering under constant hammering.
“Tharuks?” Tomaaz asked.
Pa turned. “Villagers.”
“So, you can see through wood?”
Pa nodded. “It’s called dragon sight.”
“You mean—”
Pa chuckled, striding to the door. “I saw you sneaking out to meet Lofty on many occasions!”
What next? Nothing was normal anymore. Not even Pa’s eyes.
“Hopefully, the villagers have seen reason about the beacon fire and are here to train,” Pa said.
“In the middle of the night?” Tomaaz grabbed his arm. “You saw how angry they were.”
Pa shrugged. “Maybe they’ve just finished their meeting. You know how Klaus goes on.” He opened the door.
It was only settlers, not bloodthirsty tharuks. Crowded around the door, a few were holding torches. Their faces were tight with fear. Behind them, a crowd spread across the grass, many in the shadows. There must be fifty people here—men, women and littlings.
“Good evening,” Pa called.
Evening? It was after midnight.
The smithy stepped to the front. “Hans.”
“It’s been a big day,” Pa said evenly. “How can I help?”
“You said you saw a beacon fire. That a dragon set it alight and tharuks are coming. We want to know more.”
Tomaaz scanned the crowd. Pieter and Beatrice were here, too. He gave her a smile, but she looked too worried to smile back. Perhaps he could slip out and talk to her when they were done with whatever everyone was here for.
“Atop the Western Pass there’s a pyre, always ready in case tharuks breach the pass,” Pa replied. “I saw it burning. Tharuks might be here in a day or two.”
The smithy jerked his head back toward the Western Grande Alps. “Why a dragon, Hans?” Eyebrows raised, his face was etched with curiosity. “Why not the guards?”
The moments stretched out like a man on a rack.
Would Pa tell them what he really thought? Surely not.
Then Pa answered. “The fire seemed a lot larger than a standard pyre. We saw the dragon yesterday. It flew in that direction. It seemed logical that the dragon could’ve spotted tharuks and tried to warn us.”
“Logical?” A voice from the shadows cried in derision. “Since when is a friendly dragon logical?” Bill swaggered into the torchlight, his face contorted into a mask of hate. “Might be logical for a dragon lover!”
Someone jeered.
Hans held his hands up. “We must prepare for attack. Not fight amongst each other. We need to stand together against this outside threat.”
“A threat you’ve made up,” Bill sneered. “Tharuks aren’t coming. The truth is that Hans gave his daughter to a dragon.”
“Now, why would I do that?” Pa said, shifting his weight to move back inside the house.
The smithy stepped forward, poking a finger at Pa. “You tell us, Hans. Where’s Ezaara?” His burly chest rose and fell. “We demand to see her. Prove Bill wrong.”
“It’s terrible,” Pa said. “Terrible. She caught pilzkrank today and Marlies had to take her to the infirmary at Western Settlement.”
“Why?” yelled a settler. “Marlies healed my boy of pilzkrank last summer.”
That’s right. Little Adam had eaten infected fungi last year and nearly died. Tension radiated off the crowd. Bill wanted blood. Tomaaz could sense it.
Pa’s shoulders slumped and he gave a gutsy sigh.
