by G. A. Aiken
“Take my hand,” her granddaughter told her.
“Um . . . can we play later, baby? I need to—”
“Take my hand. We can contact Auntie Annwyl together.”
“No, I . . . we’ve been unable . . .”
Rhian held her hand out. “We can do it together,” she said again. “But soon. I’ve got to finish Daddy’s drawing.”
“You really can help me contact your Auntie Annwyl, can’t you, Rhian?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know how to do that?”
She shrugged. “I just know.”
Not sure what was going on, but only able to deal with one major crisis at a time, Rhiannon took her granddaughter’s hand. “Let’s do this together, but I’ll do all the talking. I don’t want you in your Auntie Annwyl’s head. Ever.”
Sadly, Vigholf and Rhona decided to let the horses go. The terrain of the mountains was so rocky and the group would have to be able to take cover so quickly, they didn’t want to risk the horses’ safety or their own.
Although, at first, Vigholf began to believe this was a bad idea on their part. What with all the walking. For miles. And the gods knew they had many more miles to go. This Rebel King whom Annwyl wanted to find was located clear on the other side of the Provinces. The Provinces they hadn’t even reached yet. How Annwyl expected to get to where she needed to go in a timely manner, none of them knew. But the queen seemed fixed on her objective. No matter how much Rhona tried to tell her gently this was not a good idea, the queen didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to hear anything, which explained why the normally chatty Izzy and Branwen mostly kept silent.
They finally took a break the next afternoon by a stream. Food was retrieved from travel bags and water replenished from the stream. Each of them sat on small boulders or overturned tree stumps.
“It could be worse,” Vigholf softly murmured into Rhona’s ear. “It could be summertime. So miserably hot.”
Izzy dug into her pack and pulled out several pieces of fruit, which she offered to everyone. Annwyl declined with a shake of her head, Branwen took two, Vigholf took one, and Rhona declined with a flat, “No.”
With a shrug, Izzy returned to her stump and began to eat. While she did, she asked Rhona, “So how’s my father?”
When Rhona didn’t answer, Vigholf replied, “Rude.”
“So he’s fine then?”
They both chuckled.
“And how’s the war in the north? Going well?”
“Rough, I’m afraid. Those Irons . . .”
Vigholf shook his head and Izzy said, “They just keep coming.”
“That’s it. How are there so bloody many of them?”
“We’ve thought the same thing. Right, Brannie? Because they do just keep coming.” She ate some more fruit, then added, “But you know, I have to say, the way their army works . . .”
“I know,” Vigholf immediately agreed.
“. . . their organization, their discipline. And they’re so bloody ruthless.”
“You admire them,” Rhona observed, watching Izzy closely. Maybe too closely.
“How could you not? There are things they do in their ranks that we could start doing. Changes we could make that would help us in the long run.”
“Still planning to be general one day, Iseabail?” Rhona asked and Vigholf definitely heard a sneer in that even if Izzy didn’t.
Izzy shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I? I have as much chance as anyone. But I know it’ll take hard work.” Then she grinned and added, “Discipline. Organization.”
They all laughed except Rhona, who continued eating and scowling.
Izzy offered Vigholf bread. “So you were at Garbhán Isle. How’s my mother? Rhian?”
“They’re fine and Rhian is adorable.”
“I can’t wait to see her. She’s probably so big now.”
“I think she’ll be tall. Maybe not as tall as the twins, though. They’re growing like vines.”
That’s when Rhona asked Izzy, “Aren’t you going to ask about Éibhear and Celyn?”
Both Vigholf and Branwen cringed at that question, but Izzy only shrugged again. “Should I ask?”
Rhona sniffed in disgust—a sound Vigholf was well acquainted with—and went back to eating her dried beef.
Izzy placed her food down and swiped one hand against the other to brush off crumbs. “Is there something you want to say to me, Rhona?” she asked.
“No,” Rhona lashed back. “Because why would I want to say anything to the whore who got between two cousins?”
“Rhona!” Branwen snapped. “Have you lost your mind?”
Before Rhona could reply to that—and Vigholf knew the female was going to reply—Annwyl suddenly yelled, “What the hell are you doing in my head?”
They all stopped, the four of them looking at the queen.
“Out! Out of my head! Fearghus said you’d never be in my head! Why are you in my head?”
Rhona leaned over and whispered to Vigholf, “By the cock of the gods, she’s gone ’round the bend.”
“Are you sure?” Annwyl asked no one. She reached down and pulled a scroll out of her travel bag. When she unrolled it, Vigholf saw it was a map. “Aye. I see it. But are you sure? Well, how the hells would she know? She’s just a . . . oh, fine! And never do this again.”
Annwyl rolled up the map and stood. “Let’s go.”
“Go?” Vigholf asked her. “Go where?”
“I don’t have time for a litany of questions. Let’s just move.”
Izzy and Branwen scrambled to their feet, grabbed their things, and set off. Reluctantly Vigholf and Rhona followed. But Annwyl caught Rhona’s arm and held her back a moment while the two younger females went on. Unwilling to leave Rhona alone with a woman he was sure was completely insane, Vigholf stopped as well. Gods knew what the Mad Queen would say to her.
But she seemed quite clear-eyed and level-headed when she told Rhona, “Call my niece a whore again, Cadwaladr, and I’ll slit your throat.”
And with that, the queen walked away.
Vateria returned from the dungeons, her servants busy wiping the blood from her hands, neck, and face.
“What is it?” she asked her mage.
“They’re dead.”
“Who is?”
“The platoon I told you last night would be bringing Annwyl the Bloody here.”
“How do you know that?”
Her mage smiled, and she casually flipped her hands, slapping her servants in the face. “Forget I asked.” She peered at the powerful Dragonmage. “Can’t you just . . . get her?”
“She’s protected from Magicks.”
“By that bitch Dragon Queen?”
“No. By the other gods.”
“Oh. I see.”
“If we want her dead, it’ll have to be the close-up kill I’m afraid.”
“And how are we supposed to do that when she’s already killed a platoon of Laudaricus’s men?”
Junius smiled. “Wait until she comes to us.”
“Wait.” Vateria shook her head. “Are you saying that mad cow is coming here? To my palace?”
“I believe so.”
She clapped her hands together, and cheered, “My toy is coming to me!” Which made Junius laugh.
They were climbing up and across the side of a mountain, following Annwyl. Rhona still didn’t know why. In fact, she felt like they should put Annwyl out of her misery like a diseased animal. Then again, Rhona liked her head right where she had it. On her shoulders and securely attached.
Iseabail suddenly dropped, motioning them all down. After a moment, they saw them. Sovereign sentries, in formation and on the march. At first, Rhona thought they were coming out for them, but she saw they were merely guarding a nearby fort. Vigholf pointed to the ramparts of it in the distance.
To be honest, Rhona thought Annwyl would want to kill them all. It seemed to be her answer for everything. Yet she didn’t move, she didn’t give
any orders. She simply waited. Rhona had never thought the queen had it in her to wait for anything.
When the sentries had moved past and they felt they could go without being seen, they got to their feet and, keeping low, started up the mountain again. Where Annwyl was going, though, they still didn’t know. But she kept moving until she abruptly stopped and looked down at the ground.
“Oh, sh—” was all she managed before the earth beneath her feet opened up and swallowed Annwyl whole.
Chapter 25
Izzy caught hold of her queen’s arm but barely. Lying facedown on her belly, she held on to Annwyl with everything she had. Unfortunately she felt the ground beneath her begin to give.
“Shit,” she yipped, not wanting to alert any soldiers nearby but not exactly seeing a good ending to this situation. Especially when all she saw beneath Annwyl was nothing but blackness. A very deep-looking blackness. “Shit.”
“Don’t panic,” Annwyl had the nerve to order Izzy as she dangled there.
“I’ve got you,” Brannie whispered loudly while gripping Izzy’s legs. “I’ve got you!”
Izzy almost believed her cousin, too, until the land gave way beneath both of them and they were plunging into darkness, the three of them screaming until forearms they couldn’t see in all this black wrapped around Izzy and Annwyl and held them.
“Hold on,” Vigholf told them; then he was diving straight down. She didn’t know why, though, until she heard warning shouts from above and felt arrows shoot past their heads.
Sovereign soldiers. And they sounded really pissed.
But it was so dark. Could the Northlander even see? She hoped so. Because as fast as he was moving, if he hit a cave wall, her and Annwyl would be nothing but a flattened queen and her loyal, flat squire.
It felt like they traveled for miles, down and down, Vigholf moving with unerring skill, so Izzy was going to assume he could see just fine. After what felt like forever and a day, Vigholf landed. Someone unleashed flame and a row of torches roared to life, lighting up a ledge that overlooked another nasty drop.
Vigholf placed her and Annwyl on that ledge. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Fine. Yeah.” Izzy smiled a little. “Thanks for that.”
He nodded and winked at her.
A few moments later, Rhona appeared, dropping a still-human Brannie next to Izzy.
“You’re an idiot!” Rhona snapped at her cousin, and Izzy thought about punching Rhona in her snout. Gods, she was being a right bitch tonight.
“I forgot! No need to get nasty,” Brannie told her.
“How do you forget you have wings? Who forgets that?”
“I was taken by surprise.”
“You’d have never survived that drop if I hadn’t caught you, do you know that, cousin?”
“Well—”
“Because you wouldn’t have!” Rhona flew closer. She and Vigholf didn’t bother to land on the ledge, simply hovered near it. “I seriously hope you’re smarter in actual battle!”
“I am! It all just happened so fast!”
“It always happens fast! That’s the point!”
Brannie’s head dropped forward. “I’m sorry, Rhona.”
“I don’t want your apologies.” The tip of a talon lifted Brannie’s chin so they looked each other in the eye. “I want you to be careful. You can’t always count on one of us to catch your ass before you fall to your death, now can you?” And then Izzy understood that Rhona was just worried for her cousin. Izzy’s mum often yelled like that sometimes when she saw her eldest daughter leaping from dragon back to dragon back hundreds of feet above the earth.
“So no matter what form you’re in, always remember what you are. Understand?”
“Aye, I understand.”
“Good.” Rhona flew to Annwyl, but as she passed Izzy she seemed unable to stop her wings from whacking Izzy in the face.
Brannie winced and mouthed, Sorry.
“I really hope this is where you wanted to be, Annwyl,” Rhona said, hovering near her.
“I think it is. It’s an underground shortcut to the Septima Mountains.”
“How do you know that?”
“It is. Trust me on this.”
How could Rhona trust the woman when she was convinced she was bat-shit insane?
“Move out,” Annwyl ordered, grabbing one of the torches to help light the way. Iseabail and Brannie followed, also grabbing torches, again without question, which was really starting to disturb Rhona. Gods, was she this bad? Was this what Vigholf was always talking about? Of course, she’d never had someone completely crazed as a commander, but she’d like to think that even as a soldier of Her Majesty’s Army, she’d at least question a clearly insane queen.
“Are you all right?” Vigholf asked her, brushing her hair out of her eyes. Now that it was no longer in braids, it had become unruly.
“I’m fine. Not happy, but fine.” She nudged him back a bit and urgently asked, “What are we going to do? She’s—” She touched the side of her head with her talon.
“But what if Annwyl’s right? What if this is the way to Gaius Domitus?”
“Then instead of dying in these caves, we can be killed by the Rebel King? None of these options make me happy, Vigholf.”
He moved in closer. “What would you have us do? Even if you were the type to put down an ailing queen—and we both know you’re not—there’s no way Iseabail or Branwen will let that happen.”
“But—”
“You of all soldier dragons should understand this, Rhona.”
“Aaargh! I knew you were going to throw that in my face.”
“And Branwen is loyal to Annwyl. You can see that your cousin will protect the queen with her life. Would you kill your own cousin, too?”
“Of course not.”
“Then we keep moving and hope Annwyl’s right about all this. Pray even. Perhaps the war gods will shine on us tonight.”
“And why would they start now?”
Austell the Red wasn’t surprised to find that Éibhear wasn’t in the tunnels. Although that was where Éibhear spent most of his time. He was a big, burly dragon, and he was really good at moving big, unmovable things. And he’d be moving up the ranks a lot faster than he was if he had his head on straight and wasn’t so busy wasting his time on Celyn and past history.
But try to tell him or Celyn that. Two of the most hardheaded dragons Austell knew. Yet they were good friends. Loyal . . . at least to him.
Honestly, such worry and bother over a female. A human one at that! They could buy a woman for all the trouble they’ve been through over some . . . well, to be blunt, some stray. In the big scheme of things, she was nothing more than a dog that wandered in from the cold. But that didn’t mean one had to make her a pet.
Austell finally found his friend in a small alcove, far away from all the activity of the bigger caverns. He sat down next to him.
“You all right?”
“No. They’re not saying it, Austell . . . but they don’t think Briec’s going to make it.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know my brothers. The last time Fearghus looked like that, Annwyl . . . and now he looks like that again!”
“So what are you going to do, Éibhear? Sit here, worrying about something you can’t fix? Or get off your ass and help the rest of us lowly privates finish that bloody tunnel? The sooner we get that done, the sooner we can get your brother back to your mum. I bet she can fix him up right.”
“She couldn’t save Annwyl.”
Austell frowned. “But . . . someone saved her, right?”
“It’s a long and complicated story.” When Austell’s frown grew worse, Éibhear rushed to explain, “She’s not the undead!”
“All right, all right. No need to yell at me.”
Éibhear let out a breath. “Sorry. That was rude.”
And Austell almost laughed at him. To Éibhear that was rude. To the rest of the dragons in this world?
It was nothing. Gods, would Éibhear go through his entire life being such a goody two-talons? How was he supposed to make it in the military when he was always so damn nice and accommodating? Unless, of course, you were Celyn. Then you got nothing from the royal but punched in the face and called all sorts of names Austell didn’t even realize that Éibhear knew.
Austell really wished that Cadwaladr cousin of Éibhear and Celyn was still around. The sergeant. She kept the pair of them in line, but now that she’d gone off somewhere, they were getting worse and worse by the hour. Those cute triplets kept trying to stop them, but they didn’t have the same terrifying demeanor as their sister.
Well . . . what could he do? Except for what he’d already been doing. Trying to keep the pair separated. And when they did have to work together, trying to keep them from fighting every five minutes.
Honestly, he wished they’d both just focus. Austell hated that tunnel. He hated being in such a small place. True, it wasn’t small by most beings’ standards, but it was to dragons. It would allow for them to make it into the Polycarp Mountains two at a time. Hopefully, once they were in, they would find their way to the Irons and destroy them from within. At least that was the plan, but Austell liked being outside. Or in a much larger cavern. Tunnels, like bridges, were just things that could collapse in his estimation.
“Come on. You need to get back to work.”
“Yeah, all right.”
Together they stood, but Austell stopped to put his claw on his friend’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m sure everything will work out with Briec. We get this tunnel done, kill all the Irons, and get him home. Easy and simple. We like easy and simple, right? Right?”
Éibhear rolled his eyes and recited their creed: “Only where women are concerned.”
Austell laughed and slapped the Blue on the back. “That’s the spirit! Now let’s get this done.”