Tharuks tugged at the rocks. With an ominous rumble, half the rubble pile seethed and crashed down the hill toward Maazini.
“Maazini,” Tomaaz hollered.
Maazini strained his legs. He flapped. He bunny-hopped. Rocks crashed into his hind legs as he struggled to lift off, then he was airborne, raining precious dragon blood on the heaving avalanche below.
“It’s now or never!” Marlies melded. She screamed, jerking as an arrow hit her arm.
Hans rubbed his ring. “Ana,” he called, staying melded with Marlies, providing her with a vision of Dragons’ Hold.
“Kisha,” Marlies cried in his head.
The two names formed a whole—Anakisha, the former Queen’s Rider.
Reunion
Ezaara paced in the infirmary. “Pa said he wouldn’t be long.” Because traveling with the ring held danger for the realm, she, Pa and Roberto had decided to keep the ring secret.
“It normally takes days of flight to get there,” Adelina said.
“Four days, actually,” Roberto mind-melded with Ezaara, before answering Adelina. “Hans will be back soon. He’s taking a shortcut.”
If Pa made it at all. Ezaara’s chest tightened. Hopefully he wouldn’t be alone. There was so much riding on Pa’s trip. If anyone messed up, she’d lose everyone she loved. Well, nearly everyone.
Roberto met her eyes. “Your pa has experience. He’ll bring them home.”
Ezaara masked her fears, hiding her thoughts. Until a few weeks ago, Pa hadn’t ridden a dragon for eighteen years. What if he made an error? What if he was too late? “Shards,” she said. “Where are they?”
“Dragon injured,” Handel’s voice was stronger than she’d expected. They must be close. “And riders, too.”
Who? Who was hurt? “Roberto, Adelina, there are riders and a dragon hurt.”
A whump sounded on the ledge outside the infirmary cavern, then throaty whimpers of an animal in pain.
§
One moment they were in Death Valley and the next they were floating above the clouds, awash in gold light. Maazini and Handel were suspended in midair without flapping, as if time stood still. A willowy transparent woman floated toward them and communicated with Ma and Pa, without words. Somehow, Tomaaz knew his parents were mind-melding with her.
With a loud snap, they appeared above a basin ringed with sharp mountains.
“Wel … come home.” Maazini melded, landing on a ledge below them, his wings drooping on the rock floor.
Ma slid off Maazini’s back and staggered into a gaping cavern mouth at the back of the ledge.
With a whump, Handel landed beside the orange dragon. Tomaaz slid down, racing to Maazini’s side.
The dragon groaned. His talons were curling in on themselves. His legs spasmed and twitched, and his tail thrashed.
Pa clambered off Handel and pulled the boy into his arms. The lad was bleeding. Probably an arrow.
“Tomaaz,” Pa said, “Ma’s getting Maazini some limplock remedy. I’ll take the boy to the infirmary, just in here. What’s his name?”
“I don’t know,” Tomaaz said. In the face of starvation and whippings, names hadn’t been relevant in Death Valley.
Tomaaz rubbed Maazini’s neck. “Hold on, Maazini. Hold on, we’re home.” His throat was tight. Maazini was slumped on the ground, his eyes glassy. His scales were losing their bright orange hue. Tomaaz sat near Maazini’s head, rubbing his snout. Instead of being warm, Maazini’s scales were cool. No! His dragon had turned himself inside-out to save his family. To save him. To help the boy. Tomaaz had endangered Maazini by finding Ma, by bringing the boy with them, by trying to help too many people at once.
“Never …”
It was just one word, and Tomaaz heard it. “Hang on. Ma’s a healer, she’ll know how to help you.” No answer. “Hold on, Maazini. I can’t lose you, not now when I’ve found you.”
Ma stepped up beside him. “Tomaaz,” she said, her voice taut. “Push his lip onto his tooth to open his jaw.”
Tomaaz snapped to his senses. He could help. Tomaaz pushed Maazini’s soft flesh onto his bottom fangs—hard.
Maazini’s jaw dropped.
“Now, feed him this.” Ma uncorked a vial and shoved it into Tomaaz’s free hand. He upended the contents into Maazini’s mouth.
“Not so fast.”
“Ma, your arm. You’re bleeding!”
She gave Tomaaz a grim smile and shook some fine yellow granules onto her own tongue, then passed him the vial. “Give him the rest of these.” She passed him the vial and two more. Then she used her knife to free the arrows from Maazini’s hide, wiping the poison from his wounds with a cloth.
“It’s too late for that, isn’t it, Ma? Most of it is in his bloodstream.”
Before Ma could answer, Pa rushed out of the cavern. “Marlies, go inside and let Ezaara tend to you. You’re in bad shape.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
Ma squeezed Tomaaz’s arm. “Give him the other vials, a little bit at a time. Mind-meld with him. We don’t want to lose him.” Pa led her inside. Handel settled on the far side of Maazini, pushing against his side to hold his thrashing limbs still.
Tomaaz cast out his mind. “Maazini, come on, talk to me.”
Nothing. He swiped a tear from his cheek. Then another. “Maazini, we haven’t escaped Zens and Death Valley to let you die. You’re home, here with friends now. Your ordeal is over.” A sob broke from him. “You’re safe. Safe at Dragons’ Hold, Maazini … Maazini!”
Silence. Except for the hammering of his own heart.
Tomaaz tipped another vial, a bit at a time, onto the dragon’s tongue.
“Maazini, I can’t face it, not without you.”
A huge dragon landed, its scales shimmering with many colors. It nudged his arm with its snout. He placed his hand upon its head.
“Thank you for bringing my son home.” This must be Queen Zaarusha. “I am indebted to you, Tomaaz of Lush Valley. I’m calling more dragons and their riders to form a healing circle.”
“A
