by G. A. Aiken
Walking through the nearby town, desperate to get to sleep, she passed a pub. It sounded as if everyone inside was having quite a good time, but she kept walking. She wanted to be up early tomorrow and on her way before the two suns were high in the sky.
And Rhona knew what would happen if she went into that pub. Well, what would happen besides the drinking.
The pub door slammed open and Rhona picked up her step, hoping to get past before she was—
“Rhona!”
Strong hands grabbed hold of her and hauled her into the pub. Her aunts and uncles were nowhere to be seen, but the majority of her cousins, mostly the females, were in attendance.
Rhona was forced into a chair and a pint of ale shoved into her hand.
“Drink!” one cousin cheered. “And tell us all about the violence at the front!”
“Nothing happens here,” another cousin complained. “For five years, no one’s done anything and Mum won’t let me go to the Valley. ‘You’re needed here,’ she says. Here for what? Watching those demon spawn twins grow taller and meaner every day?” She leaned in and drunkenly whispered—which was really screaming—“And by the gods those two are so bloody mean!”
“Any new scars?” another asked.
“That Lightning you came in with . . . he’s a big buck. You fuck him yet? If you didn’t, are you going to? ’Cause ... you know.”
Rhona lifted her ale to her lips and drank it all in one gulp. Then she motioned to the barmaid and demanded another, her cousins cheering when she did.
Vigholf escorted his mother to the front steps outside the Great Hall. They’d had dinner in his room, had gone for a walk around the grounds, and during all that had talked for hours. Tonight she’d stay in the castle so they could enjoy breakfast together in the morning before he left.
With so many sons, Davon always managed to show each of them how much they were loved. Although they’d all known she had a special place in her heart for Ragnar. But Vigholf had understood that. Since Ragnar had hatched, their father had made it his business to crush Ragnar’s soul rather than harness the dragon’s power. Perhaps because Olgeir had known from the beginning that of all his offspring, Ragnar would be the one to bring him down.
“I’m so glad we had this time together,” Davon told him before they went up the stairs.
“Me too. But this should all be over soon enough.” Vigholf glanced down at his feet before asking the question that had been bothering him and his brothers. “And once this is over . . . will you come home?”
Davon blinked wide blue eyes. “Of course! Why would you think any different?”
He shrugged. “You weren’t with the Horde of your own free will, Mum. I know that. So I can understand if you’d rather not come back.”
“But I will. Because my sons are there. My grandsons. And you, your brothers—you’ve made it different now.”
“It’s really been Ragnar.”
“He wouldn’t have been able to do any of it without you and your brothers and Meinhard. And I’ve never hated the Northlands. I love it there. I merely hated your father—and he’s dead now.” Gods. She sounded so . . . perky.
“If you’re sure.”
“Of course I am. Now”—she took his hands into hers—“stop worrying about me. I’m perfectly safe here. I just want you to go back and help your brother win against those awful Irons.”
“I will, Mum. Promise.”
“Good. So . . .” His mother looked off and frowned.
“What’s wrong?”
“I think your weak little friend could use some help.”
Vigholf looked across the courtyard, and there was Rhona, leading her female kin toward the side door that would lead them back to the nearby lake. It wasn’t an easy task, though, when She-dragons kept breaking off from the group and trying to make a run for it.
“Give me a moment, Mum.”
“I’m going to bed, so take your time,” she laughed.
Rhona caught hold of another cousin and yanked her back to the group.
Gods, she didn’t have time for this. She should be in bed, getting a few hours’ sleep before the suns rose and she returned to the armies in the valley. What she shouldn’t be doing was dragging her kin from a brawl—that they started—in the middle of the nearby pub and trying to get them to bed.
When did that become her job?
Once Rhona got one cousin back in line with the others, another cousin made a run for it. Where were they running to? Most likely back to the pub for more drink and more fights. But before her cousin could get far, the Lightning was there, swooping up the She-dragon in one arm.
“Need help, Sergeant?” he teased.
Although Rhona would like to tell him no, she couldn’t afford to at the moment.
“I just need to get them back to the lake. The aunts will take care of them from there.”
“I can help with that. But what will I get out of it?”
Annoyed, she snapped, “Not to get my fist shoved up your—”
“Now, now. Let’s not get nasty, Fire Breather.”
“Are you helping or not?”
He picked up another one of her straying cousins in his free arm and motioned to her. “Lead the way, Babysitter.”
“I hate that nickname.”
“I know you do,” Vigholf laughed. “I know you do.”
Rhona may hate the nickname Babysitter, but she had to see how it fit her. At least that’s how Vigholf felt as he watched the She-dragon chase down one of her cousins and tackle her to the ground. Once Rhona had her pinned, she grabbed her by the hair and dragged her back to the lakeside.
“Now stay!” she ordered the female, brown eyes fierce.
Vigholf chuckled until a hand reached up and gripped his crotch and twisted.
“Owwww!”
Rhona ran over and desperately tried to pull another cousin’s hand off him.
“Let it go!”
“It’s huge, Rhona! You should give it a feel.”
Rhona dropped to her knees in front of him, one hand trying to pry the other female’s fingers off him, the other pulling at her wrist. “I will. I promise. But you need to let go!”
The she-viper finally released him and Rhona flung her kin’s arm away. Dropping back on her heels and panting, she looked up at Vigholf.
I am so sorry, she mouthed at him.
Vigholf nodded and forced himself not to rub his poor cock.
It took some time, but eventually they got all the females in their bedrolls and asleep. Once done, Vigholf and Rhona headed back to the castle.
“Well,” he muttered, “that was fun.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
“No need to apologize. But I’m surprised you didn’t keep your promise.”
“Promise? What promise?”
“The one to your cousin to give it a feel.” He glanced down at himself, gave her a wicked grin. “So you can see how huge it is.”
“What are you talk . . .” She shook her head and laughed. “Gods, you’re pathetic.”
“I’m merely trying to help you keep your promises to your kin.”
“Of course you are. Look, a few of my cousins may not be able to hold their liquor, especially when a male is around, but I assure you that I can.”
Vigholf stopped, studied her when she faced him. “You drank tonight?”
“Drank more than any of them, that’s for sure.”
“And yet you’re . . .”
“I’m what?”
“Sober.”
She chuckled. “I’m my father’s child, Northlander, and he can hold his liquor.”
“Considering how badly off the rest of your cousins are, I have to say I’m impressed. You don’t seem even a little different.”
“What can I say? It’s a gift.” Rhona suddenly held up a finger as if to silence him—although he hadn’t said anything—and then she sat down hard on the ground. Still holding up that one finger.
&nb
sp; Vigholf crouched next to her. “You all right?”
“The universe began to spin, so I decided to sit until it stopped.”
“Good plan.”
Since he didn’t know how long she’d need to sit, Vigholf sat beside her. He carefully took her raised finger and tucked it back into her fist.
“Thank you. I didn’t seem to have control of that talon.”
“Finger.”
“Whatever.” She smiled a little. “You can let go of my hand.”
“I could, but probably won’t. What with your universe spinning and all.”
“Any opportunity. You Lightnings take any opportunity.”
“There’s truth to that, I’m afraid.”
“You are, however, surprisingly light of touch.”
“Pardon?”
“The way you’re holding my hand. I always thought you’d be more of a mauler. Like a diseased wolf chewing the knuckles off me fist.”
“That’s very nice.”
“Not really.”
“I was being sarcastic.”
“Oh. I see.” Rhona gazed off for a moment, then asked, “Where are we?”
“Okay. That’s it. I’m taking you to bed.”
“No, no,” she protested as Vigholf got to his knees. “I’m fine. I can walk.”
“Is the universe still spinning?”
“No. Now it’s just the trees.”
“Right.” He reached for her, put his arms around her. “I’ll put you to bed and you’ll feel better in the morning.”
“I’d rather stay out here. Sleep under the stars.”
“You don’t like beds much, do you?”
“They’re all right, I guess. But I’m just as happy on the ground, looking up at the sky.”
“Then we’ll do that.”
Vigholf picked her up and carried her over to a big tree. With care, not wanting to bash her head against the ground, he set her down.
“This is nice,” she said, smiling. “Can’t see the stars, though. With all those branches and leaves in the way.”
“I’m not destroying a tree so you can have a view of the sky. You’ll have to imagine what it looks like.”
“Such care about foliage.”
“We don’t have much in the way of lush trees and plants in the Northlands. So the ones strong enough to survive, we take care of.”
Vigholf stretched out next to her, lying on his side and propping his head up with his hand.
“So you must be glad the fighting moved to Euphrasia,” she said.
“I am. Especially the way you Fire Breathers just blast everything in your way.” He smiled. “We have much more finesse with our lightning than you have with your flame.”
“Yeah. Right,” she laughed. “Finesse.” Rhona looked at him. “You don’t have to stay out here if you don’t want. I’ll be safe. My kin’s right there.” She pointed in front of her, then off to the side. Then she sort of flitted her hand about. “They’re around.”
“You act like I have somewhere to go. Besides, I want to stay here. Keep you company.” When she frowned a bit, he added, “I like you. You and your little spear . . . cute.”
She gazed at him for a long time before she asked, “Do you actually like me, or is any unattached female worth your time? You Northlanders do seem a bit hard up and I do have a pussy available. And it’s been pretty unused lately.”
It took a lot for him not to laugh. Mostly because he knew she’d regret all this come first light. And they had at least two and a half days of travel together back to Euphrasia during which he could absolutely torture her over it.
It was wrong, wasn’t it? That he couldn’t wait for the torturing.
Yeah. It was wrong.
The Lightning glanced off for a moment, probably trying to come up with some appropriate and smoothworded lie. Males were all alike, weren’t they? They’d say or do anything to find a warm hole for the night. Worthless. The lot of ’em. Bloody worthless.
Thankfully, Rhona wasn’t like her cousins and most of her sisters. She didn’t have what they all termed “needs.” She could—and often did—go ages without a lover. Unlike Delen, the slut, who became right cranky when she’d gone for more than a few months without a cock, Rhona found better uses for any additional energy she may have stored up. She prided herself on that. So the dragon could just get that bloody look off his face.
“What look?”
“What?”
“You told me to get that bloody look off my face.”
“Oh. Yeah.” At least she hadn’t said anything else out loud.
“That was after you mentioned you can go long periods of time without a bit of cock unlike your slutty sister Delen. Although I’ve never thought of her as slutty. Maybe a bit forceful—”
She slapped her hand over his face.
“Ow.”
“If you even think of repeating anything I’ve drunkenly said here tonight—”
He pulled her hand away. “Not a word. Promise.”
“I think I’m going to sleep before I say anything else about my sisters that they’d cut out my tongue for.”
“All right.”
“And we leave tomorrow, head back to the Valley, end this war, get all the glory we can stomach, and never see each other ever again. That’s a plan we can both live with, right?”
“Possibly.”
“And I’m sure I’m only saying this because of that last ale I had, but your human form . . . quite attractive.”
“Thank you.”
She lifted her hand, fingers sliding across his chin. “The scar on your jaw is a very nice touch.”
Vigholf’s eyes closed, he let out a breath. “You’re killing me, Sergeant.”
“Well, it’s not like I haven’t tried before. If it’ll make you feel better . . . I have scars, too.” She started to lift her shirt. “Want to see?”
He caught her hands, held them. “Another time.”
“That’s right. You lot don’t like scars on females.”
“That’s not the problem at all.”
“So it’s just my naked human body you find hideous.”
“I have no problem with your hideous human body.” He scowled, but she didn’t think it was directed at her. “That’s not what I meant to say.”
“That’s all right. Among my mum’s offspring, the triplets are the ones considered pretty.”
“Then no one’s looked at you at all.”
“You’re only saying that because you’re a desperate Northlander that’s forced to steal She-dragons and mutilate them so they’ll never leave you. You’d think anything with a pussy was pretty.”
The scowl this time . . . for her. “First off, we don’t do that anymore. Second, not all Northland males did it in the first place. And third, I have no idea how pretty your pussy is, but I do like your face.”
Rhona reached up, patted his cheek. “You’re sweet.” She closed her eyes. “And I’m tired. Can we have sex another time?”
“Were we planning to have sex?”
“I was. But I’m too tired. So another day, yes?”
“All right.” The Northlander lay down and snuggled in close, his nose tickling her ear. “Another day of lots of sex,” he murmured, his breath warm against her neck.
“I didn’t say anything about lots.”
“No. You didn’t.” And she could feel him smile. “But I did.”
Junius Bato Toranius of the House of Toranius knew he was one of the most powerful dragons in the Quintilian Sovereigns. Only Overlord Thracius held higher rank. But when it came to actual power . . . well, that was one area the good Overlord never tested Junius on.
Yet, as with all things, there was a price to pay for his power, for his skill as a mage. It wasn’t too high a price, though. Junius merely had to ensure that all Irons worshipped one, and only one, god. And that as the power of the Irons spread throughout the world, this worship of one god would spread along with it.
Not eas
y. Some were quite attached to their multiple gods. But the Quintilians knew many ways to get and keep the loyalty of those whose countries they invaded and eventually conquered.
The lands to the east of the Provinces would be no different.
Junius stood alone in the dry riverbed and waited. Like his father before him, he was very good at waiting, patience being important for any mage.
The hard earth in front of him stirred and cracked and the one god pushed his way up and through.
Chramnesind. The Sightless One. A name he’d received because he had no eyes, for Chramnesind saw well enough without them. In fact, he could see everything.
“My god,” Junius said softly. “You summoned me.”
“I did, Junius Toranius. Good fortune has shined upon you.” He smiled. “And my true reign is about to begin. . . .”
Chapter 11
A fist slammed into his chest twice, but he wasn’t surprised to open his eyes and find a scowling Rhona staring down at him. He’d had a feeling she’d be dealing with some remorse this morning, and he’d be facing her wrath. But he’d been more than willing to risk all that because he really liked Rhona. A lot. And he was willing to risk a little Fire Breather rage if it meant getting closer to her.
“I know you’re mad, but—”
She held her finger to her lips, silencing him. Then with the same finger, she pointed to a spot in front of them.
Vigholf raised his head, blinking hard.
There was an early morning mist over everything, the suns just peeking over the low hills in the distance, and yet Vigholf could see her. She stood there. Alone. Watching them. One hand gripping a stuffed toy dog, the tips of her fingers from the other hand stuffed in her mouth. Curly silver hair surrounded full cheeks and stark violet eyes stared at them.