The Last Dragon Rider (Book 1 of Rider Series)

Chapter 1

"Careful up there, Marini," someone from behind me. She sounded worried about my well being, knowing too well that I could easily get hurt if I made one single wrong move. She was down on the ground, watching me, and I knew that she was fiddling around like a mother hen watching her chick do something dangerous.

I hammered the last nail into the roof I was working on, ignoring the aching of my muscles. "I am almost done, Martha," I said as I glanced down at the older female as I started to pack up my tools. I wiped the sweat off of my brow, hating the blistering summer heat once more.

"Well, come on down, now. You got more stuff to do and so little time to do it in," Martha said. I could tell that she was folding her arms across her chest and glaring up at my back. She wanted to try and come up here by herself but knew better than to do that.

I picked up the small knapsack that I had placed the tools in and placed it around my neck, making sure that it was secure. "I am coming down, now," I said as I grabbed the ladder next to me.

"Be careful," she warned again.

I didn't answer as I hefted my skirt around me and tied it around my waist, showing the pants that I had underneath. I heard Martha tsk a little, but didn't say anything as I started to climb down the ladder. I knew that she didn't... approve of me wearing such clothes, but it was better to have pants on than to show the world my undergarments.

At that moment Timmy, Martha's six-year-old son, came chasing Lioele, Martha's four-year-old daughter, and pushed the ladder away from its post, accidentally. I felt it move as it started to go backward but didn't panic.

"Marini!" Martha screamed as I pushed myself and the ladder back into its normal place. Fear and shock filled her face as I made it all the way down and stood in front of her, grinning.

"I am fine," I said, grinning and pulled at the knot, making my skirt fall back across my legs.

Martha sighed with relief and shook her head a little. She relaxed when she saw that I was fine and clucked like a hen. She muttered something under her breath that I would rather not repeat.

Timmy came back and saw what happened. His blue eyes were filled with fear as he looked at me and then at his mother. His blonde hair stood out, giving him the messy hairstyle. He was short, but that was because of his age, and was probably going to be taller as soon as he hit puberty. His clothes had holes in them from his adventures, and I knew that Martha will have to sew them up sooner or later.

"Young man, get into the house right now, and I want you to think of what you have done this instance," Martha said. She folded her arms across her chest and glared at the young man before her. She wasn't really angry, but she was scared that I could have died, even though I had survived worse.

Timmy nodded and looked at me, praying that I would help him. He didn't want to get into trouble, and I could understand why. Martha's punishments... were rather odd, to say the least.

"It's alright, Martha. I guess it was Timmy's way of saying it is time for me to go," I said as I grabbed Martha's arm. I squeezed it, trying to reassure her that I was alive and well.

"Why are you standing up for him? He could've killed you," she said, looking at me. Her gray eyes were filled with humor and worry. She understood why I was standing up to him, but she wanted to hear it from me first.

"It won't be the first or the last time that something or someone tried to kill me," I replied as I wiped my hands on my skirt, "'sides it is my fault since I am doing a man's job almost every single day."

Martha nodded her head and relaxed. "You're right," she replied, smiling fondly. "And you are perfect for it," she added. She tried to run a hand through my hair only for me to swat it away. "I don't know where I would be if you weren't here to help.

"So, am I in trouble?" asked Timmy, his voice soft as he watched his mother warily. He stayed in front of her, keeping his hands behind his back as he watched his mother.

I looked at Martha, a lopsided grin on my face. "Yea, is he in trouble?" I asked after him. I cocked my head and pouted a little, knowing that she couldn't resist that face.

Martha sighed and shook her head. "Oh Gods, why do I have to be outnumbered every time?" she asked, looking up at the sky and throwing her arms up in the air, dramatically. "No, Timmy you are not in trouble," she added, looking at her son. "But you on the other hand," she pointed at me, scowling, "will be in trouble if you don't get on with it." She took the towel off from around her waist and wiggled a finger.

"Okay, okay, I am going don't hurt me," I said, laughing underneath my breath and backing up and away from her. I placed my pack into the basket, hiding it, before picking up my basket and started to back away. "I'll see you tomorrow," I called over my shoulder before starting to make my way towards the center square.

"Wait!" Martha said. Urgency filled her voice, causing me to stop and turn towards her. She stopped when she was in front of me and took hold of the hand that was not carrying the basket. "Take these please and tell your mother that I said thank you for having a girl like you," she added, putting some coins into it.

I looked at them and looked at her, trying to keep my emotions off of my face. I was slightly shocked that she gave these to me, even though I had been helping her out every chance that I had. I shook my head, not wanting to keep them and knowing that my mother wouldn't mind if I didn't come home with some coins. "I can't take these," I said, trying to hand these to her.

Martha stepped back and shook her head. "No, you keep them. If it wasn't for you, then our house would still be leaking," she said. "Besides, you look hungry," she added.

I shook my head, not wanting to do it. It was hers to keep, and she had three mouths to feed and no husband to help her. I was hungry, but I didn't really want to take her money. I was going hunting later on this evening and would be able to get some meat for myself and my family. "You need it more than me."

She shook her head, smiling. "Child, I do believe that it is you who needs it more than me," she said. "Now, get going and place the money in your pocket so that you can get a piece of bread or something." She waved dismissively, and I knew that it was better not to argue.

"Yes, Ma'am," I said with a gracious smile. I placed them in my pocket, curtsied, and went to the town square to do my business. I was grateful, to say the least, but I couldn't help feel guilty, and I couldn't understand why I did so.