Bronze Dragon, A Riders of Fire prequel novelette Read online

  Bronze Dragon

  Riders of Fire – A Prequel Novelette

  Eileen Mueller

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  Bronze Dragon and the Riders of Fire series are works of fiction. All characters, events and locations in this book are fictional. Any resemblance to persons or dragons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. No dragons were harmed in the making of this book, although there may have been a few injuries to tharuks.

  This book is copyright. No part may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic means, including photocopying, recording or by any information retrieval system without written permission from the author, except for short excerpts for reviews, in fair use, as permitted under the Copyright Act. Dragons’ Realm, the Riders of Fire world, and its characters are copyright.

  Bronze Dragon, Riders of Fire © 2018 Eileen Mueller

  Typesetting © Phantom Feather Press, 2018, American English

  Cover Art © Eileen Mueller, 2018

  Dragons’ Realm Map by Ava Fairhall © Eileen Mueller, 2018

  Phantom Feather Press Logo by Geoff Popham, © Phantom Feather Press, 2014

  Phantom Feather Press

  29 Laura Ave, Brooklyn, Wellington 6021, New Zealand

  [email protected]

  www.phantomfeatherpress.wordpress.com

  Magic, every time you turn the page.

  Dedication

  For Kurt, who loves dreams.

  Mine would be nothing without you.

  Contents

  Map of Dragon’s Realm

  Prologue

  The Hunt

  Homecoming

  Survivors

  Tharuks

  Dragon Mage

  Home Again

  Plans

  Handel

  More Riders of Fire Adventures

  Silver Dragon – A Free Story

  Ezaara – Riders of Fire, Book 1

  Dragon Hero – Riders of Fire, Book 2

  Dragon Rift – Riders of Fire, Book 3

  Eileen’s Adventures for Younger Readers

  Dragons’ Realm – A You Say Which Way Adventure

  Attack on Dragons’ Realm

  Dragon Tales

  Acknowledgments

  About Eileen

  Map of Dragons’ Realm

  Prologue

  Handel kicked off the ledge and beat his bronze wings, gliding over Dragons’ Hold. Idelian shifted in the saddle as Handel caught a thermal, spiraling up on the warm current. Flashes of color winked over the forest and fields as dragons and riders harvested crops. Handel zipped along the ridge of Dragon’s Teeth, the vicious peaks that formed a natural defense around Dragons’ Hold.

  Idelian’s weight shifted in the saddle as she leaned forward, anticipating his dive to the basin below. “A shame we can’t ride thermals all day,” she mind-melded.

  Handel snorted. “A shame indeed. But our riders must eat this winter—unless you want to share my food?” He sent her an image of him killing a buck and feasting on it.

  She burst out laughing. “Maybe I should sprout wings too, and grow horns so we don’t have to harvest. Actually, a fine buck wouldn’t be too bad, if you roasted it for me.”

  “As long as you like it crispy…” Handel shot out a gust of flame.

  “You mean burned—I think I’ll pass.”

  “I can’t help that I’m a terrible cook.” Furling his wings, Handel flicked his tail up and dived.

  Idelian’s thrill at their breakneck speed rushed through him.

  He pulled up short of the forest, skimmed the foliage, then ascended again. This was the life—being one with his rider and enjoying the moment. There’d be time enough to work, soon. He’d just take a few more moments to—

  Snarling creatures flashed through his mind. They shook their tusks and raked their claws in the air, their piggy snouts drooling.

  A dark smothering blackness crept through Handel, making his scales prickle. His visions of these strange beasts had started last night. It wasn’t their ugliness that disturbed him—not everyone could have the grace and majestic beauty of dragons—it was the malice radiating from these creatures and a sense of doom. He hid his thoughts from his rider, but, as usual, Idelian picked up on his new mood.

  “A song for your thoughts,” she mind-melded, shifting in the saddle to pat his shoulder. “Mind you, I won’t sing a funeral dirge today, even though it may suit your mood.”

  “No one’s singing any dirges,” Handel responded, rising on another thermal. “I’m just thinking.”

  She laughed.

  Sometimes it was a blessing that she didn’t share his gift of prophecy. His thoughts were as dark as the smoke from a funeral pyre.

  She rubbed a dry spot on his scales, scratching an itch Handel hadn’t realized he had. “So, where to, today?” she asked, shooting a mental image of the lake and them toasting fish over dragon flame.

  “Unfair. You’re tempting me.” Handel shot her back a picture of him sunning himself on the shore.

  “A shame we have so much work to do.” She sighed. “If we’re quick, we may have time after. Do you want to go to the orchard or the fields first?”

  Wings streamlined against his body, Handel headed down to the orchard. The fruit trees were small blobs with people plucking fruit, like busy beetles, below them. As they flew down, the sweet scent of ripening plums and peaches assailed him.

  “Even better,” she mind-melded. “Toasted fish, with peaches for dessert! I’m sure they won’t notice if we borrow a few.”

  “Borrow?” Handel slowed his descent and circled over the orchard before back-winging and settling on the grass.

  Within moments, workers were tipping plums into one of his saddlebags and peaches into the other. When they were full, Handel grabbed the long handles of a basket in his talons and they headed for the cavern in the mountainside that led to the storage cavern below the kitchen.

  Liesar was there, silver scales flashing as she released a basket of apples from her talons into the arms of two waiting lads. The boys struggled to carry them, a handle apiece, down to the storage area. “Working hard, there, Bronzie,” she said, heading back into the sun, her rider hunched low in the saddle.

  “I saw you sunning yourself earlier, too. Not a bad day to stretch our wings,” he replied. A youngster stepped up to retrieve the basket. He landed so more workers could unload his saddlebags into waiting wheelbarrows.

  “Easy, boys,” called Benji, head of kitchens and stores, as boys with full barrows raced down the tunnel. “Thank you, Handel and Idelian, this will help our riders through the winter.”

  “You’re welcome,” Idelian answered.

  Handel dipped his head in acknowledgment. A vision hit him again, this time with more power.

  A tusked beast was snarling over a littling girl, goading her as she cowered.

  A sense of urgency filled him. Handel stamped impatiently. The boys and girls unloading his saddlebags tried to go faster.

  Two young men were driven by more beasts along a forest trail among huge strongwood trees. Hands shackled with chains, one turned his dark curly head towards the sky, as if scanning for dragons. His eyes were the startling green of the emerald moss that grew near the hot springs in the Western Alps. Rents in the back of his shirt seeped blood. The other boy’s arm was bleeding a
nd he was pale. A beast jostled the boys and more crowded around, driving them through the forest.

  And then the boy’s thoughts reached Handel: concern for more people, many more than just himself and his brother.

  Handel’s tail flicked. A premonition—this hadn’t come to pass yet, but it would soon. Why was this young man so important? Who were the people the man was worried about? What were these evil creatures doing?

  He sometimes had prophecies about humans, but usually he knew who they were. Well, Idelian had been different. He’d seen her before they’d imprinted five years ago. But he didn’t need another rider …

  Perhaps it was this man’s knife-sharp concern for others that made this vision so persistent. Or the strange creatures. Whatever it was, Handel needed to know more.

  He snorted at the people unloading his saddlebags, goading them to move faster.

  “He’s impatient today,” Benji muttered. “Come on, lads, move it.”

  Idelian melded, “What is it?”

  “Not sure, but grab your weapons and some supplies.”

  “You’ve seen something, haven’t you?”

  Handel dipped his head in a nod. The morose darkness accompanying his vision grew, but he tried to contain it so Idelian didn’t sense his mood.

  She gave him a piercing look and spoke to those unloading the fruit. “Leave a sackful for me in his saddlebags. Handel and I are going on a journey.” She scratched his eye ridge. “I’ll be back in a few moments.”

  Handel melded with Zaarusha, queen of the dragons, to let her know where he was going.

  “I don’t like the look of these beasts,” she said. “Keep me informed, and fly safely.”

  Soon, they were shooting across the jagged peaks of Dragon’s Teeth, the alps surrounding Dragons’ Hold, the stronghold of the dragons and riders who patrolled the borders of Dragons’ Realm, keeping their people safe.

  Idelian slapped his hide. “Now, are you going to tell me where we’re going and what we’re up to? You can’t hold out on me forever. You’ve seen something bad, haven’t you?”

  Handel’s sides heaved as he let out a gusty sigh. “Yes. I saw these.” He showed her the face of one of the creatures.

  “They feel so dark and menacing.” He sensed Idelian’s hand automatically go to her bow. “Have you actually seen them do anything?”

  “Capture and menace our people.”

  “Threaten our people?” Idelian’s blood fired, sending a spark through Handel’s belly. “Then we must stop them. Has it already happened?”

  This is what he loved about his rider. Her innate need to protect the people without any thought for herself. So selfless and strong—that was his Idelian—and so trusting. Although she didn’t share the gift of prophecy, she believed in his gift implicitly. “No, but it will happen soon. I’m afraid we have a few days’ journey ahead of us. We’re off to Great Spanglewood Forest.”

  §

  Two and half days later, beyond Monte Vista, a village nestled in the west end of Spanglewood, Handel sighted one of the beasts. He woke Idelian, who’d dozed off in the saddle. “There, Idelian, see it?”

  Sneaking through the trees was one of those strange creatures, walking on two legs like a man and wearing a breastplate and boots. In his vision, he’d seen more beasts, so Handel circled, then headed west toward the Terramite mountain range. It was hard to see, though. The forest canopy blocked much of the terrain.

  “There’s another one, crossing that river.” Idelian melded, nocking her bow. “Look, there are more on the far bank.”

  “Good spotting.” That made five or six creatures, so far, roughly the number he’d foreseen. Were there more?

  Further west was a herd of the beasts, some armed with arrows. Handel flitted his wings, lifting them higher above the forest, out of bow range. “I’ve seen enough. If these creatures are trouble, then we need help.”

  “Agreed, there are far too many for us to deal with. Can you meld with the blue guards?”

  “No, I’m too far out. We’ll need to fly back a while for that.”

  “Make speed, Handel. I have an awful feeling about these creatures.”

  “Me too. Keep your bow out. We don’t want to be caught unawares.”

  Unseen, they headed back over the forest, eastwards, towards the blue guards—a group of blue dragons and their riders—who patrolled the eastern border of Great Spanglewood Forest, Montanara City and a cluster of villages in the vicinity. They wouldn’t have to fly all the way there, just close enough to be within mind-melding range.

  Keeping her bow ready and her eyes peeled, Idelian scanned the forest as they traveled, but the thick canopy obscured her view. “I think those five or six creatures we saw earlier could have been scouts for the main party,” she said.

  “All the more reason to fetch the blue guards. We can’t take on that many alone.” Handel cast his mind out in case there was another dragon nearby who could take his message to the blue guards. Nothing. They were still too far out.

  An arrow whooshed past Handel’s wing. He ducked, but Idelian cried out.

  Her pain shot through his mind. She slipped from the saddle, plummeting towards the trees.

  “Idelian,” he cried out, swooping.

  But her mind was quiet.

  Snatching with his talons, Handel tried to catch her, but her body evaded his grasp, plunging through the foliage, an arrow shaft buried in her chest. He dived further, branches scratching his wings.

  Idelian crashed into some underbrush and landed heavily. The sound of her body hitting the earth shuddered through Handel, threatening to rip his big heart apart. He roared, rising above the trees, then strained his senses, reaching out for a sign of her.

  Nothing, not even a wisp of thought to show she was only unconscious. He tried again.

  Idelian was dead.

  Handel roared again, anguish shooting through him. His beloved rider, gone. He wanted to dive between the trees and retrieve Idelian, letting the sharp branches wreak havoc on his body. But if he tore his wings, there’d be no one to warn their people about these beasts—no, monsters—who had killed his precious rider.

  He had to warn everyone; the faster the better. But, against logic, Handel haunted the spot where Idelian had fallen, flying in ever-widening circles.

  There, hurrying along a trail, was a snouted monster. Handel stealthily flapped, gaining on it. As his shadow fell over the beast, it turned, raising its bow. Before it could shoot, Handel blasted it with flame. Its fur ignited and it fell, writhing on the forest floor. Handel circled back and blasted it again.

  When the surrounding foliage was blackened and the monster’s body was a charred smoking lump, he turned and headed eastwards, but nothing, not even revenge, could fill the burning hole in his heart.

  The Hunt

  Hans checked his arrows, one by one, as he put them into his quiver. The fletching on one was bent, so he set it aside, leaning it beside him on the porch step. He had a little time before Pa was leaving, so maybe he could fix it.

  The door flew open and his littling sister, Evelyn, bounded onto the porch, still in her nightdress.

  “Hey, sleepyhead.” Hans hurriedly placed the last arrow into his quiver and dropped it down the side of the steps, but he was too slow. She’d seen.

  “You’re going hunting without me? Again?” She stamped her foot, making her dark curls bounce. “That’s not fair!”

  “Come on, Evie, you know I’d bring you if I could.”

  Evelyn’s dark-brown eyes pooled with tears. “Tell Pa you’ll take care of me, then he’ll let me come.”

  Hans shook his head. “Sorry, Evie, but I already asked him.”

  Her lip trembled and, even though it was warm, she wrapped her skinny arms around her body, hugging herself. “I want to come too. It’s ’coz I’m a girl, isn’t it?”

  “Nope. Shona and Jenny hunt too, but they didn’t start ’til they were ten summers. Pa says you’re just too small.”
Hans ruffled her hair.

  “I’m bigger than Alfie.” Evelyn dropped her arms and stretched her spine, standing tall.

  Hans laughed. “I tell you what, why don’t you wake Alfie? We’ll have a quick game before I go.”

  “Piggy hunt?”

  “Sure.” Hans picked up his quiver and the damaged arrow. “But be quick, Pa will be back soon.”

  A few minutes later, he was outside, his face hidden against the bark of the strongwood tree, counting backwards from thirty, pretending not to hear Evie’s giggles as she and Alfie scampered off to hide. “All right, piggies, I’m hunting!” Hans spun.

  A corner of Evelyn’s nightdress was sticking out from behind the wagon, but he pretended not to see it. Looking behind trees and among the cornstalks, he called their names.

  Despite being older, Evie was usually easy to find, but Alfie was always a challenge.

  Hans wandered around the back of the wagon to where Evelyn was crouched behind a wheel. “There you are!” he called as if he was surprised.

  Her face lit up. “Yeah, but I bet you can’t find Alfie,” she taunted.

  “You might be right. I’ll need your help.” Hans grabbed her hand and they ran across the yard. “Let’s check the house first.”

  “I’m coming, but I’m not telling,” Evie insisted. She watched while Hans looked in cupboards, under beds and even in the latrine out back.

  “All right, Evie, give me a clue,” he finally said, huffing out his breath as they went back outside. They didn’t have all day. Pa wanted to leave as soon as he got back from seeing the village arbitrator. It wasn’t every day Monte Vista had a name-day feast for those who’d turned seventeen summers old. Hans puffed his chest out. This year, he was one of those being honored. He’d been anticipating this feast all summer.

  He turned to the wagon. “Maybe he’s in the tray? Did you two hide together and I wasn’t clever enough to figure it out?”

  Evelyn laughed and punched his arm. “No squealing pigs. That’s the rules. I’m not telling.”