Dragon's Inferno: The Dragonriders of Fiorenza, #2

By Melinda R. Cordell

Neva only wants to keep her family safe – but that hope vanishes when her best friend, Fia, plummets out of the sky, gravely wounded, on dragonback.

"Let the dragonrider die!" her mama pleads. That would be the sure way to ensure that the army stops harassing them – but Neva can't turn her back on her friend. Never mind that her family is holding Fia's father captive, and Neva is forced to use her magic in this hateful work – work that is bringing war closer, every day.

But when a magical spell goes wrong, Neva's now in danger. Worse, a new leader has emerged – one who wants to hasten the war – one who has his cold eye on Neva and Fia both.

Fia and Neva are not on the best of terms. Both of them have reason to be wary of each other as Neva tries to hasten her healing. But there has been too much between their warring families all these years. But when her father's execution date is moved up, Fia flees – only to lose the only person who could help her rescue him.

Fia has two weeks to save him.

Neva has two weeks to stop her.

Set in an alternate medieval Italy with dragons and magic, ASSASSIN'S BLADE is for fans of the dragon books of Ursula K. Le Guin and Anne McCaffery. If you like tough heroines, wisecracks, adventure, and magic, you'll love taking flight in DRAGON'S INFERNO.

One-click Dragon's Inferno to continue the adventure today!
 

Series order:

Assassin's Blade

Dragon's Inferno

Guardian's Race

Witch's Plight

Warrior's Doom

Traitor's Oath

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rosefiend Publishing
• Release date: Feb 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9781953196460

Melinda R. Cordell

Noblebright Fantasy Gardening Author Welcome aboard!

Book preview

Rosefiend Publishing.

DRAGON’S INFERNO

Copyright © 2020 by Melinda R. Cordell

All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Rosefiend Publishing. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This book is a work of fiction, just in case there was any question about that. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead or undead, dragons, enchantresses, bankers, evil cardinals, assassin grandmas, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Ordering information: For details, contact the publisher at [e-mail]

Cover design by Deranged Doctor Design

Book Formatting template by Derek Murphy @Creativindie

ISBN: 978-1-953196-31-6

First Edition: September 2020

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Book 3 – Guardian’s Race!

SERIES ORDER:

Assassin’s Blade

Dragon’s Inferno

Guardian’s Race

Witch’s Plight

Warrior’s Doom

Traitor’s Oath

Contents

Pomp and Honor

Fronting the Darkness

The Hidden Room

Mercenaries

Prodigal Returns

The Screws

Bitten

Farm Scum

No Fear

After All These Years

Singing Dragon

Sorry

To My Last Breath

Not My Adventure

Possessed

Porridge

Masquerade

Emerald Light

Firefight

Alone

Ruined

from THE FLAME OF BATTLE

Her breath kindles coals,

And a flame comes forth from her mouth.

In her neck abides strength,

And terror dances before her...

She sees everything that is high;

She is Queen over all the sons of pride.

––––––––

—Job 41:21-22, 34.

1

Pomp and Honor

The cardinals had to send out four teams of men to hunt down the man who had just been elected Pope.

Their soldiers finally found him praying in the refuge of some lonely hermit’s cave on the side of the mountain. When the old man finally looked up from his prayers, he gazed at the soldiers for a long moment. At last he sighed and pushed himself slowly to his feet. Fine, then. I will serve.

The new pope was brought in all pomp and honor to the Papal palace, his new home.

At any rate, they tried to bring him in pomp and honor.

Pietro rode in on a donkey – his delegation had insisted that he ride a horse, but he had refused. Our Lord and Savior chose to ride a donkey, he said. If it was good enough for him, it is good enough for me.

This was Friar Pietro of Morrone, a lowly shepherd of sheep and of men, a founder of the Celestine order and leader of many monks. Though he had created a monastery and an entire holy order, he had given both up to return to his life as a hermit, sleeping on stones, subsisting on thin gruel, mortifying his flesh, wearing hair shirts, and turning to prayer to become closer to God.

And now he had been elected Pope.

After a very long time, the weary delegation sighed in relief to ride into the city of Rome. Many of them looked forward to all the comforts of home after the austere ride from Pietro’s mountain.

You are our angelic Pope, one of the hangers-on said in a syrupy tone. Your consecration will galvanize the holy Church, bring together all the fighting factions in harmony and unity.

Pope Celestine, another man said. A more perfect name you could not have chosen. A fine choice for your angelic papacy.

Pietro grimaced. Who am I to take up such a heavy burden, so much power? the old man cried. I cannot save my own soul; how, then, am I supposed to save the whole world?

And now, at long last, the delegation rode in through the gates of the papal palace. He dismounted his donkey, a stooped man wearing sandals and wearing the coarse robes of the hermit, with long, tangled hair and a beard that a bird could have lived within. Some of his entourage exchanged weary glances. They’d had to stop every other hour because Pietro had insisted on sticking to his prayer schedule.

He was led into the papal palace, which gleamed with golden Byzantine mosaics, white marble pillars, and vaulted ceilings. The place was stunning, a triumph of architecture.

Pietro was taken aback. What is this pomp and glory? he asked, eyes wide, mouth agape like some stupid yokel. This is disgusting excess! What did our holy father say about laying up treasures for yourself in the world?

Shocked, a syrupy hanger-on stammered, It is to honor your office, as the intercessor to Christ on earth.

Pietro frowned under his wild, bushy eyebrows. Christ slept in the bottom of a fishing boat, surrounded by the stink of fish, where the tall waves could throw their salt spray upon him.

Ser ... I mean, your Holiness ....

This palace is an abomination, said Pietro, waving his withered hand at the golden mosaics. So much wealth was thrown away on this, wealth that could have eased the end of some poor widow’s life, or given food to children and beggars who are starving in the streets. These are God’s holy ones. Pietro looked around the golden palace, lip curled. Isn’t there some poor group of beggars who need food or clothing or shelter? They should live among this pomp and finery, not I. Feed them the food that is meant for me.

The Pope’s entourage, a flock of horrified old men, turned pale. One of them murmured something and crossed himself.

Now, now, one of them said soothingly. The rabble will desecrate the society we’re building here.

Nonsense! Pietro cried, his bushy eyebrows raised high. Nonsense! It is for the poor and the beggars that men such as you and I exist, is it not? They are our sheep, we the shepherds. It is our calling to care for them, every one of them, as Christ himself did.

From the back of the crowd, one cardinal all in red came forward. Our new pope speaks the truth, the cardinal said in a languid, nasal voice. He extended a hand to Pietro, who clasped it. Come, your Holiness, he said. Pope Celestine, you have traveled a long way. Choose a bed that fits your hermit’s existence and rest for a while. Eat a little bread and cheese. Tomorrow morning you can begin your work for the poor and unw – I mean, for the poor and destitute. He’d nearly said unwashed but had caught himself in time.

Pietro turned toward this little act of kindness the way a flower turns toward the sun. Yes ... yes, perhaps I should, he said.

The new Pope’s hand was trembling as it clasped the Cardinal’s. It was a marvel that he’d managed to live this long.

No, he will not be long for this world, thought Cardinal Benedetto, clasping Pietro’s wrinkled hand. But there will be some good to be got from this old man first.

Cardinal Benedetto led the old man to the sleeping quarters, bending his head close as the other hangers-on trailed behind. Perhaps as Pope you can even make it possible to resign the Papacy.

Now, I ... But then Pietro’s voice fell quiet as Benedetto’s words sank in.

And then he whispered, Resign?

Benedetto did not speak. He merely waited.

To willingly give up the gold and silver keys... that has never been done before. To resign the highest office of the Church and return to a hermit’s life ... Could one do that? Pietro whispered excitedly.

You are the Pope now, Benedetto said gravely as they walked among the gleaming marble pillars. You can write the rules in any way you please.

Pietro went silent, thinking.

Benedetto nodded and hid his smile.

2

Fronting the Darkness

Neva found Mama curled in a ball under the table, shaking with nearly silent sobs, only the snuffle of her breath.

The sight filled Neva with helplessness.

Every time her mama fell apart, Neva felt as if she were only twelve again. Even eight years later, she felt as if some part of her still cowered in the wagon as it rolled out of Fiorenza. She remembered how women screamed at her family, thrusting torches at them, and one man came limping after them with an axe until they were out of the city.

Mama still had nightmares at night, and sometimes when she was awake, like now.

Mama, Neva said, crouching, stroking her hair, praying she would stop shivering under her touch.

All Neva wanted was her mother to be in a place where she was not afraid all the time. She wanted her mama to be like she was when Neva was little and sick, and Mama would bring her honey and sat with her and brushed her hair back from her forehead. She wanted the way Mama had been when they were being chased out of town on the donkey-drawn cart. Mama stood up there with a sword chasing off all the bad men. Her mama was filled with strength. Even in that scary time, Neva was afraid that something bad would happen to her and then they would be alone in the world, truly alone.

But then, when they got to their new place, once Papa made a life for them, Mama began to slowly sink into her private fear where Neva couldn’t follow, where she couldn’t protect her.

So this is how I protect Mama, Neva thought. By getting involved in this kidnapping.

Neva wanted revenge. She wanted those people who hurt her family to suffer – she wanted them to taste their suffering and suffer in return. To bankrupt the family whose father signed his death warrant, to push his city into war, had long been a revenge dear to her father’s heart.

Neva had been willing to help.

But now Fia’s dragon had fallen right into her bean plants, just like her crow Mags had said. And Neva was rethinking this.

What is happening outside? her brother Gionni demanded, stomping into the room with his big boots. Is that the dragonrider? A Florentine?

I need to help her. Mama, do you remember my friend Fia? It’s her.

Mama broke in. No. Let her die. She is a Florentine, a filthy one. She can lie out in the cold with no roof over her head as we did.

Neva ran into the storeroom where the rolls of lint and bandages were stored, and she grabbed two. She will die if I don’t tend to her, Neva said.

Then let her die, her mama said.

It was no use telling her she half wished she could. As distasteful as it was to bring a Florentine under her roof – never mind that they had once been friends – it was still Fia.

If Fia dies, we’ll have to bury her, Neva reminded her mother. And I’m not going to dig a hole at this hour.

Mama wailed. You can’t bring that girl in here. She’s a Portinari. She can die out in the woods for all I care. Let your crow peck out her eyes and eat them. Nobody would care if she died.

Mama, don’t, Neva pleaded.

"Sure, you say ‘Mama, don’t,’ but when that girl stabs you in the back and brings the army out here, will you say it to me then? When that girl gets her daddy free and then he signs a death warrant with your name on