Riona corrected her angle so they were level again.
A rock hit Kierion’s head, thudding off Riona’s back into the foliage. His temple throbbed. Tiny lights danced before Kierion’s eyes. He shook his head, trying to clear his vision. Blood ran down his face, the coppery tang hitting his lips. Kierion slumped forward onto Riona’s spinal ridge and his vision went black.
§
“Kierion.” Fenni shook his friend, but he wouldn’t wake up. Leaning over Kierion’s prone form, Fenni placed his hands on the purple dragon’s hide. “Riona, can you hear me?”
“Yes, Fenni, I hear you.” Her voice was gentle, tickling his mind. In that moment, he felt her sathir, like a river flowing between them. Kierion must feel this power every day. No wonder he enjoyed being a dragon rider. “Kierion’s unconscious. We must get him back to Dragons’ Hold.”
“Master Giddi’s closer. He has piaua juice,” Riona replied.
“He used the last of it healing you yesterday.”
An angry rumble issued from the dragon’s belly. “I’ll kill the beast that did this.”
As she banked, Kierion’s head started to slip off her ridge. Fenni grabbed him. “Riona, watch out, Kierion’s falling,” he yelled aloud—forgetting he could mind-meld while touching her.
She righted herself. “Tighten his harness. Use the rope from my saddlebag to secure him.”
He could do better than a rope, and faster. Fenni held out his hand. A vine flew from a tree beneath them, whipping around the dragon’s middle and over Kierion, tying him fast.
“That works,” said Riona. “Now, where’s that tharuk?”
“To your left, behind us in the strongwood with the jagged branch sticking up.”
As Riona flew over the evergreen treetops, Fenni pulled the sathir from the air, blasting the tharuk off its perch with a fierce gust of wind. It crashed through the trees, snarling, then hit the ground—silent.
The wind blew through Fenni’s clothes, making him shiver. The roaring had stopped below and there were no glints of green flame. But there was a strange glimmer in the trees. What was it? Something was sparkling.
“Fenni,” Jael yelled.
Fenni spun. Jael was on a small knoll near a smoldering cabin—or what was left of it.
Riona landed on the hillock.
Jael shook his head, his face soot-smudged and eyes brimming as he gazed at the ruins. “We’re too late. They’re dead: three littlings and their parents—every one of them. Those monsters must’ve killed them last night.” He kicked at a lump of snow, then faced Fenni. “What’s wrong with Kierion?”
“A rock to the head. We need to hurry.”
Jael’s dark eyes met Fenni’s. “Take him back to the new master healer at Dragons’ Hold. I’ll stay and bury the remains of that family.” He shook his head. “I’m not leaving them here, like that, charred bones in their beds.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry about me. It’s not a long walk to Mage Gate. And I’ll need the solitude, believe me, after cleaning up this lot.” He gestured at the tharuk carcasses strewn among the trees.
Fenni twisted his cape in his hands. Shards, he should stay and help Jael. More tharuks could attack. But Kierion needed him too.
Riona rumbled. Fenni placed his hand on her hide. “Jael is right. He’ll cope, Fenni. Let’s take Kierion home to Dragons’ Hold.”
“She wants me to go to Dragons’ Hold,” he told Jael.
“It’ll be a nice trip.” Jael grimaced. “Just like entering the flaming jaws of a dragon.”
Dragon’s Jaws
It was mid-morning when Riona flew over a steep mountain and swooped into a basin ringed by mountains. So, this was Dragons’ Hold. Fenni sucked his breath in. Dragons of all colors flew between caverns in the southern end of the basin, their wings catching the chill winter sun.
As they neared, a blue dragon roared and charged out to meet them, its rider calling, “You have a wounded rider? Follow me.”
“As if I couldn’t find the way myself,” Riona mind-melded, Fenni’s hand on her.
The blue dragon and its rider wheeled away when they reached a cavern in the southern mountainside. How they could tell which cavern was which, Fenni had no idea.
Riona thudded onto the enormous ledge. Liesar, the silver dragon he’d met at Mage Gate, padded over and nuzzled her. The next moment, a door flew open and Marlies, the master healer, rushed out. “Oh.” Alarm crossed her face. She gave Fenni a quick glance. “Please, untie the vines.”
Fenni waved a hand, and the vines fell to the snowy ledge. He passed Kierion down to Marlies and she carried him inside. Fenni slid off Riona, pausing to lay his hand on her side. “Do you need anything?”
“Just my rider to be healthy,” she answered. “Please.”
Fenni hesitated. Jael had said he was going into the flaming jaws of a dragon. He removed his wizard cloak, so he wasn’t an instant target.
Fenni walked in the door. Beds lined the walls of a long cavern. A fire flickered in a grate at the far end, smoke funneling up a natural chimney. A few people were in beds or sitting near them, tending the sick and wounded. Everyone stared—everyone—their eyes roving over his clothing and lingering on his face. They were all dressed in riders’ garb—jerkins, shirts and breeches of tough fabric, suitable for flying—although the hues varied.
He stood out like a blazing pyre of dead tharuks in the snow. He wished he was wrapped in his cloak’s invisible embrace.
“Come in, Fenni,” Marlies called from Kierion’s bedside. “Everyone, this is Fenni, who saved Kierion and helped him get home. I expect you to welcome him.” She lifted Kierion’s eyelids and checked his pulse.
As Fenni pulled the heavy door closed, a blonde
