“They’re gone,” Riona melded. “Septimor wanted to know why I was out at night. I told him I’d heard there were fat bucks over the ridge and fancied a snack.”
“What were they doing out this early?”
“They went for a flight after the late patrol ended. Septimor had also heard about the bucks and gone to hunt.”
“With Seppi?”
“Seppi’s been riding for years. It doesn’t bother him to witness his dragon killing or eating. By the way, you know this means I’ll have to catch a buck on the way home, or they’ll wonder why I’ll need to go hunting again so soon.” Riona’s belly rumbled.
Life was simpler as a dragon. Eating, killing tharuks, flying. Had Seppi really been fooled? Or would he mention Riona when he gave his patrol report? Kierion shrugged and threw back his hood.
Riona dived down the far side of Dragon’s Teeth and swooped over the forest. Exhilaration rushed through Kierion. He felt like yelling at the top of his voice—but he wasn’t that foolhardy. Anyone could be hidden in the dark sky. They headed toward Spanglewood Forest.
Fingers of light crept across the treetops, casting the forest in predawn gray. Moments later, a golden glow filtered across the land, setting the snow alight. Dragons’ Realm was breathtaking. As a dragon rider, he was tasked to protect it. He’d heard stories of entire villages being killed or enslaved when tharuks had first come through the world gate. Maybe he and Fenni could develop new methods for fighting the beasts and get riders and mages to fight together. There had to be a better way to save his people.
Riona swooped down to the clearing where they’d arranged to meet Fenni.
His friend greeted him. “Good morning, Kierion. Ready for a little wizard flame?”
“I’m always ready. Seen any tharuks lately?”
Fenni’s brow wrinkled. “A few. Could we do a sweep of the forest? I haven’t seen Master Giddi for two days since he stalked off.”
That was strange. “Why?”
“He won a wizard duel, but was angry at Master Starrus, the head of the Wizard Council, because Starrus’ mage flame got out of control.”
“Makes sense.” Mage flame gone wild would be problematic. “I’ve been thinking about how we can fight best together. Climb up behind me and we’ll try a few things out.”
An hour later, they were at the clearing Riona had seen the last time they were here. “Tharuks are close by,” Riona said. “We’ll need to be quick.” She ripped a branch off a tree and landed in the snow.
Kierion pulled the waterskin off his back and tucked it in the skin fold between Riona’s hind leg and her belly. He forced the branch into the waterskin, piercing it. Riona squeezed the branch between her thigh and belly to hold it in place. Blood-beet juice flowed down her stomach and leg onto the snow.
“That doesn’t hurt, does it?” Kierion asked.
“Not a bit.”
“Almost looks real, like she’s impaled herself,” Fenni said.
“Hopefully real enough to fool those brutes,” Kierion replied. “Quick, let’s get into the trees.”
They climbed up strongwoods at the edge of the clearing, Fenni near Riona’s tail, and Kierion closer to her head. Kierion nocked an arrow. A tiny shower of sparks flitted from Fenni’s tree. “Riona, we’re ready.”
The purple dragon swished her tail in the snow, obliterating their tracks, and churned up more snow with her forelegs. She half-unfurled a wing, as if it was damaged.
“Great,” said Kierion. “Looks like you’ve been struggling.”
Riona bellowed.
It sounded like she was in pain—she was a better actor than he’d expected. “Convincing, keep it up.”
She bellowed again and thrashed in the snow, careful not to dislodge the branch still gripped between her leg and belly. “Be alert, I smell tharuk on the breeze,” she snarled in Kierion’s mind. Her visceral pleasure shot through him, making his heart race.
Gods, if she was hurt …
A lone tharuk broke into the clearing, lifting its snout to the wind and sniffing.
Oh shards, in his eagerness he’d forgotten to take freshweed. What a fool.
“Don’t worry, you’re downwind. That pathetic beast doesn’t stand a chance.” Riona whimpered and flapped her half-extended wing pathetically.
Behind the tharuk tracker, dark shapes moved among the trees. “Wait, Riona. There are more.”
“Bring them on,” Riona rumbled between sad moans. “The more, the better.”
The tracker advanced, still sniffing, getting closer to Riona with every pace. It was halfway across the clearing when the wind changed. The tracker spun, nostrils twitching.
“If it scents us, our trap’s blown,” Kierion melded.
“If you shoot early, we’ll scare off the others. I want to catch the lot, so hold tight.”
As much as it galled Kierion, Riona was right.
The tracker narrowed its eyes. “Who’s there?” it snarled.
A tharuk grunt with darker fur entered the clearing behind it. “We wants dragon meat,” it bellowed. “Stop mucking around.”
“I smell something,” the tracker snapped. “Quiet.”
The wind changed back, and Kierion sighed in relief.
“Trackers always smell something,” Dark Fur said. “I only smell you.”
Another tharuk emerged from the trees. “I hungry too.”
“Careful,” the tracker said, giving up sniffing. “Dragon still alive.”
More beasts prowled into the clearing. Forming a line, they advanced on Riona. She cowered, whimpering. Shrinking in on herself, she let out the smallest burst of flame, as if her fire power was failing. She looked tiny, not like a ferocious fire-breathing dragon.
The tharuks grew bolder. “Stinking scale heap. Got hurt, did you?” Dark Fur sneered. “Hurt more soon.”
Six tharuk archers stole out of the strongwood trees, their green-tipped arrows aimed at Riona.
Dragon gods and flames. Kierion’s mouth dried out. They had limplocked arrows. A few of those, and Riona would be dead. Lars’ words came back to him, “Don’t ever risk your dragon.” He was a sharding fool, all
