“Watch it,” said Tomaaz. “I don’t want Klaus over here again.” He took the blade. “Feels good. That should improve your aim.”
Lofty nudged him, crowing. “At least, that’s one thing I can do better than you!”
“True.” Tomaaz passed the blade back, and Lofty rushed off to show someone else as Ezaara came out from behind the cooper’s stall.
“There you are.” Tomaaz approached her. “I was looking for you.”
“Marco got a bleeding nose from Paolo.”
Tomaaz rolled his eyes. “Those two again.” The boys were always getting into scrapes.
“Now you sound like Klaus.” Ezaara grinned. “They don’t know the sharp end of a sword from a hilt, and Paolo swings way too hard. We should teach them.”
“Good idea,” Tomaaz said, tugging Ezaara toward their parents’ produce stall. “Now, what was Bill showing you, on the quiet?”
Glancing around again, Ezaara whispered, “Cloth—speckled with dragons of gold and bronze.”
“Contraband cloth? Lucky Klaus didn’t catch you.” What was Bill’s game? “Be careful. Old Bill’s bad news.”
Ezaara’s face was filled with longing. “Even if dragons are evil, the fabric was beautiful.”
Tomaaz wrinkled his nose as they passed a pen of piglets. “Lofty says dragons are honored beyond the Grande Alps.” Dare he tell her? Might as well. “One day, I’m going to look for myself.”
She elbowed him, hard. “Someone will hear you.”
“So what? I’m not going to live here forever, you know.”
Her eyes flew wide. “You’d leave us?”
Tomaaz blew out his cheeks. “Don’t know. Maybe.”
Ezaara frowned. “That’s why Lofty’s ma wanted owl-wort—you and Lofty are planning to go tonight, right?”
Tomaaz laughed. “If only!”
“If you ever leave, take me with you.” Ezaara’s voice was fierce.
“All right.” Tomaaz cuffed her arm. “But no running off without me, either.”
“Never,” Ezaara swore. They bumped knuckles, sealing their vow.
When they reached their family stall, Ma sent Ezaara off to gather more herbs in the forest. “I’ll duck home and get some flatbread on the hearth before the fire’s dead,” she said.
Pa brushed his dark curls back from his forehead. “We’ve sold out sooner than I thought. How about a dip, Tomaaz?”
“Sounds great,” Tomaaz replied. Good thing too: the coating of dust and grime he was wearing would ruin the impression he’d made on Beatrice. She was the prettiest girl in Lush Valley. For many moons, he’d been working up the courage to ask her out. Thank the gods, Lofty had dared him earlier, otherwise he’d still be wondering whether she’d say yes.
“Not so fast,” Pa said. “First, take this last sack of carrots to the smithy.”
Tomaaz wasn’t in a hurry—Beatrice and Pieter always took their leftovers to the bedridden and widows after the market. And he didn’t want to seem too eager to get clean—his family would tease the hair from his head if he told them he was seeing a girl.
“Sure, Pa.” He shouldered the carrots and headed to the smithy. How many sacks would he haul and how many carrots would he harvest before he had a real adventure? Probably hundreds. Thousands. Tomaaz sighed, trudging away.
§
Hans floated on his back in the warm water. He and Marlies had discovered this swimming hole years ago, when they’d first arrived in Lush Valley and settled on their farm near the forest. It was his favorite place to bathe.
His son was scrubbing at his curls with more vigor than usual.
Hans raised an eyebrow at Tomaaz. “Going somewhere special later?”
“Just off for a walk.”
Hans couldn’t help grinning. Did Tomaaz think he was a fool? He’d taken so long delivering those potatoes, and it hadn’t only been that sword fight with Ezaara that had delayed him. And he’d been as jaunty as a songbird when he’d returned. “I know market day’s a welcome break, but tomorrow, we’ll need to get back to harvest, Son.”
“I know.” Tomaaz dived under, then popped up, floating on his back, too.
Laughing, Hans waded ashore and dried himself. “Come on, we’ve got stock to feed before you go off on your walk.” He pursed his lips, blowing Tomaaz a kiss.
“Hey!” Tomaaz swept his arm across the river’s surface, spraying him. “You can feed the stock yourself, just for that!”
Hans laughed and tugged his clothes on. Marlies’ flatbread and soup might be ready by the time they returned. He bent to tie his boots.
Was that a tingle in his chest? After all these years?
He’d never had that feeling since living here. He scanned the sky—as he had done every day since they’d settled in Lush Valley. The tingling grew stronger, pulsing across his ribs. The range and focus of his vision extended.
There, a flash in the distant sky. Moments later, he saw another.
Keeping his voice casual, Hans addressed his son, “Want a race through the forest to the clearing?”
Still in the river, Tomaaz grinned. “The loser cleans the dinner bowls?”
“You’re on.” Hans took off.
“Hey,” Tomaaz called, splashing out of the water behind him. “Not fair!”
Hans threw caution to the wind, racing ahead.
The power in his chest intensified and he sped forward, leaping logs, charging through the forest. Liquid fire sang in his veins.
With his enhanced dragon sight, Hans recognized the mighty multi-hued dragon approaching from the north. The dragon was circling down toward … there, through the trees … his daughter! Shards! Zaarusha, the dragon queen, was coming for Ezaara!
No!
An eye for an eye, but this was crazy. If he could get there in time, perhaps he could reason with the dragon queen. He raced through the forest to the sacred clearing.
“No! Ezaara!” he cried out, as she jumped. Hans gathered his strength and sprang into the air. His fingertips grazed the tip of her boot as she shot skyward. He fell to the earth.
The dragon was too fast. She already had Ezaara.
Energy
