The tinkle of her laugh echoed in his mind. “Yes, I’m here too, Hans. We must collect supplies and leave Lush Valley.”
Settlements often sent supplies to Dragons’ Hold to support the riders who protected them. It made sense to take his produce. “We can’t leave without my son.” He showed them an image of Tomaaz.
“You’re right, we mustn’t leave him behind.” Handel used that voice.
“What is it? What have you seen?” They shared the gift of prophecy, although Hans’ was a little rusty.
“I’m not sure yet, but he’s tied to the fate of the realm, just as your daughter is. Zaarusha’s dragonet gave much more than either you or Marlies suspected.” Handel dived, burning a tharuk.
Hans’ face heated with shame. “I’ll stand and face the council. Marlies and I deserve that for running.”
“Yes, you will.” Handel gave Hans time to digest that, before he continued, “However, due to her folly, both of your children inherited gifts from Zaarusha’s dragonet.”
“What gifts?” Hans’ shoulders were beginning to ache where Handel gripped them.
“Time will tell.”
For years, Hans had wondered how their farm looked from above, on dragonback. Now he knew. Handel spiraled down, depositing him on the grass. Liesar landed nearby.
Shards and dragon’s teeth! The whole front door had been splintered. Dead tharuks were scattered across the fields. People were lifting wounded inside, exhaustion dogging their movements. At the sight of dragons, they stopped, fear and curiosity battling on their faces.
With blue guards scorching the enemy nearby, they probably realized dragons were on their side, but he had to reassure them anyway. “It’s all right,” Hans called. “The dragons are helping us.”
A ragged cheer went up.
Where was his son? He dashed inside. “Tomaaz?”
His home was full of wounded, but his son was not among them.
§
Tomaaz slowly rose to his feet, taking a surreptitious step closer to his sword. So foolish to have dropped it.
“Give me back my slave, boy.”
Bill’s smile gave Tomaaz the creeps. It always had—there’d been good reason to avoid Old Bill, but with four tharuks at his back, there was no avoiding him now. For a moment, Tomaaz wanted to play for time, but what was the use? He was outnumbered and cornered—with a girl who was too injured to run.
He lunged for his sword, snatching it, and ran straight for Bill and the tharuks.
In an instant, Bill was behind the tharuks, shouting commands at the beasts.
A tharuk charged Tomaaz. He leaped aside, his tattered jerkin catching on the beast’s tusk and tearing free. Claws swiped at him. Tomaaz thrust the tip of his sword at a brute’s eye. And then he was surrounded. It was over before it really began, and Lovina was unprotected.
Bill lurched over to her, grinning.
Tomaaz swept his sword in an arc, trying to break through, then spun, protecting his back. The beasts laughed, throwing the odd swipe, taunting, taking turns playing with him. When they attacked, he’d be a goner, shredded by their claws and tusks.
Lovina’s shrill scream made him whirl.
Bill was breaking Lovina’s fingers. “I’ll teach you, girl!” he snarled.
Roaring, Tomaaz pelted toward a tharuk, ramming his shoulder into its gut. The surprised beast fell backward. Strong furry arms grabbed Tomaaz from behind, pinning his arms at his sides in a bear hug. The tharuk lifted him from the ground, crushing the breath out of him. Tomaaz struggled and kicked. He tried to call to Lovina, but could only gasp.
Bill dragged Lovina along the ground by her injured arm. Her broken bone jutting through her flesh at an impossible angle, she fainted.
Oh gods, he’d thought he could protect her. Now they’d both die, a furlong or two from home.
The tharuks gathered around him, snarling. It was getting harder to breathe.
“I want a turn, too,” one said. “When do we get to play?” An arrow hit the beast in the head and it fell.
With a whoop, Lofty crashed through the bushes. He let a second arrow loose. Another beast fell. Only two to go—and Bill.
Bill whipped out a knife, holding it to Lovina’s throat. “Hurt another tharuk and the girl gets this.”
Lofty raised an eyebrow.
Tomaaz shook his head. He couldn’t risk Lovina.
The big tharuk holding Tomaaz spoke, its voice rumbling through Tomaaz’s back like an avalanche, “Crush him, now.”
The remaining beast swiped at Lofty, who whipped his sword out of his scabbard as Tomaaz watched—helpless, ribs and chest aching, lungs tight.
A downdraft stirred the foliage. Overhead, wings flapped. An arrow thwacked into Bill, and he dropped his knife, clutching his shoulder. A blast of flame shot from the sky, burning the tharuk fighting Lofty.
Above them, two dragons wheeled in the air—bronze and silver.
A bow twanged. The tharuk holding Tomaaz flinched and staggered forward a step. Tomaaz heard the zip of a second arrow, and the tharuk fell on him, pinning his legs to the ground. He shoved the dead beast off him and scrambled to his feet, taking a shuddering breath.
He raced to Lovina. Bill was gone, the only reminders of him a broken arrow shaft on the ground and Lovina’s injuries.
The silver dragon roared, chasing Bill, shooting flame.
The bronze dragon landed between the trees as Lofty chased the last tharuk off. His father dismounted and was at his side in moments.
“Pa?” It took Tomaaz a moment to recover from the surprise. “Bill did this, Pa. He shattered her arm. I couldn’t stop him.” He’d made the wrong decision, looking for Pa when Lovina was in
