by G. A. Aiken
Chapter 26
It felt like ages as they traveled through those tunnels, but Annwyl seemed to know where she was going and it had to be safer than cutting straight through—or even around—the Provinces. But still, Vigholf couldn’t help but be extra vigilant as they all moved along. It wasn’t like the Sovereign humans didn’t have their own dragons who could bring human soldiers down here just as he and Rhona had with Annwyl and the others.
But it did feel like they were alone.
At least it did until they reached the smallest caverns they’d found yet since they’d been in these caves. They weren’t tiny by any means, but they didn’t give him much room either. Instantly Vigholf thought of the wyvern. And because he was already so tense and ready for anything to come slithering along, Vigholf caught the wood spear that came shooting out of the darkness seconds before it tore through Rhona’s head.
Blinking her eyes wide, she gave him a quick nod. “Thanks.”
“I owed you one anyway.” He turned the large spear in his claws until it faced the other way. “You ready?” he asked.
“Aye. I’m ready.”
Needing to hear nothing else, Vigholf sped forward into a wide cavern, the spear gripped tight by his talons. Rhona stayed to the right of him, her own spear in one claw, her shield in the other.
He pulled his forearm back, the spear high, and was seconds from pitching the weapon when Annwyl yelled, “Hold!”
It was a command Vigholf and Rhona had been conditioned to respond to and they did so immediately, both of them using their wings to pull them back in midflight.
Annwyl walked forward, both swords in her hands. Izzy held a torch. It didn’t do much for lighting her queen’s way, but Annwyl still kept going.
Then Vigholf heard it. He’d heard it in battle so many times, he sometimes heard it in his sleep. The sound of a Fire Breather taking in a big gulp of air.
“Annwyl!” he bellowed. Yet the queen did nothing but shove her niece aside seconds before flames burst from the opposite dark cavern and covered the human female. Roaring with rage, Vigholf jerked forward, but Rhona grabbed his forearm, held him back.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“Look.”
“Why would I want to see—”
“Just look.”
He did—and he saw Annwyl. Not a burned-to-a-crisp Annwyl, but a perfectly untouched Annwyl. Even her clothes were fine. But Vigholf didn’t understand. That burst of flame could have wiped out an entire human battalion.
“The Dragon Queen,” Rhona murmured. “I’d heard she’d blessed Annwyl with this gift, but I’ve never seen it in action before. A dragon’s flame can never hurt her now.”
Annwyl shook her hair back and said, “Ready to talk? Or are we going to keep playing these games, Rebel King?”
And, from that dark cavern, the Rebel King stepped out. He was younger than Vigholf thought he would be. Much younger. Not even two hundred winters, Vigholf would guess. His scales the color of steel, his size that of any big Northlander dragon, his white horns curving around until the tips nearly touched his mouth. Long, steel-colored hair nearly reached the floor, different from the way most Irons wore it, and an eye patch covered the hole where his right eye should be. A scar that stretched from his forehead to where his snout began telling the tale of that loss. And the King wasn’t alone—a platoon of well-armed humans and dragons stood behind him, ready to defend him to their death.
“The Mad Bitch of Garbhán Isle,” the Rebel King growled. “Come to die?”
“No. But you won’t be the first one to try. To succeed even.” She grinned and even in the pale light of the torch Izzy still held as she returned to Annwyl’s side, they could all see the cocky and crazed smile of the royal. “But I’ll only come back anyway. . . .”
Rhona dropped to the ground behind Annwyl, and Vigholf behind Branwen and Iseabail. The Rebel King studied their small party. “Three dragons and a human girl? That’s all you bring to fight me?”
“I’m not here to fight you. I’m here to secure your assistance.”
“I know of your war, Southlander. I know your mate fights Thracius in Euphrasia and you fight Laudaricus in the Western Mountains.”
“You know of it, but you do nothing to help either of us. To end this war and take Thracius’s rule. But if you help me, you can be emperor of the Provinces. Or king. Or whatever you call yourself.”
“That does sound nice, doesn’t it? Tragically, though, not something I can do at the moment. But because I’m feeling benevolent, I’ll allow you and your friends to leave alive. Now go.”
Rhona felt a brief moment of elation, but it was quickly squashed when Annwyl re-sheathed her swords and followed the Rebel King into the dark cavern he’d just come out of. She pushed past his human and dragon soldiers, ignoring them all in her pursuit.
“Shit,” Vigholf muttered, watching Iseabail and Brannie follow right after their queen.
Sure, they could walk away. But they wouldn’t. It wasn’t in their nature. Their stupid, stupid nature. So they followed after the mad queen and the evil king.
“You can’t just walk away from this,” Annwyl told the dragon’s back.
“I can, human. And I am.”
“Why? Are you afraid of Thracius? Is that it? Are you weak?”
King Gaius’s tail slammed down right where Annwyl was standing. Thankfully, she was spry, managing to jump out of the way before it landed.
“I find you irritating, human. You don’t want to irritate me.”
“Why? What will you do? You won’t even fight your uncle. Because you’re weak.”
“You grab Izzy and Branwen,” Vigholf whispered. “I’ll grab the nut.”
The Rebel King spun around, Iseabail and Brannie ducking his long, spiked tail.
“Do you really think you can play this game with me, Queen?”
“I have nothing to lose at this point.”
“Don’t you?”
And that’s when human soldiers grabbed Iseabail, a dragon in human form grabbed Brannie, and Rhona and Vigholf were surrounded by well-armed dragons and humans who came at them from behind.
“If you don’t think I’ll kill them all, human, you’re sadly mis—”
“She’s hurting her, you know,” the queen said.
Confused, Vigholf glanced at Rhona, but all she could do was shrug, exasperated.
“Every day,” the queen went on. “Every day she hurts her more and more. And soon she will be so broken . . . it won’t matter if they let her go. Because she might as well be dead anyway.” Annwyl stepped forward, moving closer to a dragon who clearly didn’t like her. “And whose fault will that be, Gaius, the Rebel King? Whose fault?” She smiled, but it wasn’t one of her pleasant, slightly off ones. It was a mean smile from a very mean royal. “It’ll be yours because you’ve done nothing to help. You’ll have killed her because you’re sitting on your fat ass in these stupid caves doing nothing. Tell me, Iron, how will you live knowing all that when they send her crucified body back to you?”
It was a low rumble, like an oncoming earthquake or one of the volcanoes near her father’s home just before it erupted.
And gods, did the Rebel King erupt.
Roaring in rage and pain, he grabbed hold of a startled Annwyl and flung her to the ground. Vigholf dashed forward, barely catching her before her brains and body could be decimated against the cave floor. Then the king sucked in air and Rhona yelled, “Izzy! Move!”
The human girl dove behind her cousin seconds before they were hit with a blast of flame so mighty it shoved Rhona and Vigholf back, knocking Annwyl from his arms, and Brannie into Izzy, both young females squealing.
Annwyl flipped across the cave floor, landing facedown. The Rebel King marched forward, shifting as he did, his eye patch adjusting to his human size. Gaius Domitus snatched a spear out of one of the human soldiers’ hands and stalked over to the queen. Vigholf tried to stop him, but dragons held him back, a
nd another two held Rhona, so that all they could do was watch.
King Gaius raised the spear above Annwyl as she lifted her head, flipping her hair back. “So that’s it then?” Annwyl asked, grinning. “You’re just going to let her die?”
“Shut up!”
“You’re going to let your own sister die at the claws of Vateria?” Annwyl got to her feet. “I’d heard you were smarter than that. Smart enough to know an opportunity when you see one.” Annwyl moved a bit closer. “Let me get her for you. Let me bring your sister back.”
The king’s body jerked a bit, his arms lowering. “What?”
“I’ll get her. I know you can’t. None of you can. They know who you are. They know your scent. They took her because keeping her controls you. But once Thracius is back—she dies. But they don’t know me. I can free her. I can bring your sister back to you.”
“You? You go into the heart of the Provinces, into the Overlord’s palace, and release my sister from their dungeons? You?” he said again.
“Why not me?”
“You can’t just waltz in there and save her.”
“What’s your alternative? To hope to see her on the other side when your time comes?”
His hands tightened on the spear. “And if you fail, human?”
“And if I don’t? As it is, if you don’t get her out now—you might as well go ahead and build her funeral pyre. Because you killed her.”
Rhona only had a moment to roll her eyes, knowing how she would respond to someone saying that to her about her siblings, before the king rammed the spear at Annwyl. But the queen, a true warrior, caught hold of the spear’s shaft with her left hand, yanked the king’s human form close, and punched him twice in the face with her right. Then she unsheathed one of her swords and had it against his throat before he had a chance to register pain from her punching him, or his soldiers even had a chance to move. Clearly Annwyl’s madness only affected her mind, not her battle skills.
“I’ve been fighting dragons like you for years,” Annwyl told the king. “Warriors that’d be using the bones of you and yours for toothpicks by now. So think hard and long on what you want to do, Rebel King. Leave your sister to die? Or let me get her out and give yourself a chance at Thracius’s throne?”
She released the spear and stepped away from the king. “But choose quickly. Because time is running out for those I love and for the one you love.”
The Rebel King stared at Annwyl for a very long time until he finally stated the obvious. “You truly are as insane as everyone says.”
“I prefer the term persistent. It has a nicer ring, don’t you think?” Then she grinned and everyone in the cavern took a cautious step back.
Chapter 27
There were times in Gaius Lucius Domitus’s life when he’d wished things were different. That he was different. That he could simply sit back and accept his uncle’s completely brutal and vicious rule like everyone else in their bloodline. Or that he could overlook the way his kind abused the humans they shared their lives with. Or that keeping someone, anyone, enslaved was something he could completely overlook. If he was different, none of these things would bother him in the least.
And, as he’d stared into the crazed green eyes of a human queen with absolutely no boundaries or sense, he realized this was one of those times he wished he was that kind of dragon.
Gaius had heard about Annwyl the Bloody. Hell, everyone had heard about her. She was the half-dead queen who fucked dragons and somehow managed to have offspring with them. Something that, as far as anyone knew, had never been possible between dragons and humans before. There were those who said that on top of being crazy, Annwyl the Bloody was cruel, violent, cold, murderous, nasty, whorish, and a host of other things that made her one of the most reprehensible beings on the planet.
And yet she’d come here herself, risking an unbelievable amount of danger to reach him. She could have sent a messenger, or one of her soldiers. All of whom Gaius would have sent back to her in pieces. Instead she’d come with three dragons and a girl, all of them sneaking through the tunnels under the mountains. Tunnels that most Sovereigns and Irons would never attempt to travel through, which was why Gaius and his troops used them.
“What are you thinking, old friend?”
Varro Marius Parthenius was the son of Laudaricus Parthenius, Thracius’s human leader-representative. Although father and son had never gotten along, Varro had given up much to fight by Gaius’s side. They weren’t merely friends or comrades in arms. They were brothers, species differences be damned.
“I’m thinking the Southlander is right. About Agrippina.”
“She’s insane, Gaius. How can you believe anything that woman says?”
“Because Aggie’s my sister. We came from the same egg. And every day I feel her dying. Bit by bit. Inside. So that even if she walks out of our uncle’s dungeon one day, she’ll just be a walking corpse. She won’t be my Aggie.”
“Then we attack. Now. Tonight.”
“And we never get past the front gates and Vateria will crucify Aggie in front of us. The gods know Vateria’s been waiting to. But she also knows keeping Aggie alive is the only reason I haven’t made a move while Thracius has been gone for five years.” Gaius shifted to human and, after pulling on leggings and boots, sat down beside his friend.
“There is another option,” Varro said, his voice nearly a whisper from the shame of the words he was forcing himself to speak. “We now have something Vateria wants. Needs, even.”
Gaius shook his head. “I’m a bastard, Varro. But I’m not that big a bastard.”
“Yes, but—”
“To turn Annwyl over to Vateria will be giving that snake exactly what she wants. I can’t do that. I won’t.”
“Not even for Aggie?”
“I’m doing it for Aggie. There are some things she simply won’t forgive me for. Giving Vateria anything is definitely one of them.”
“Then what do we do, old friend? The mad queen is not leaving.”
The pair stared at each other. Then they leaned far over so they could see past the cave wall and into the cavern in which the queen and her guards were waiting. They watched the royal as she sat quietly, staring off at nothing in particular. Around her, her guards chatted, looked worried, concerned, anxious. But the queen didn’t seem to have any of those emotions. She just sat there.
Then, all of a sudden, she slowly turned just her head and looked at Gaius and Varro. All Gaius could see were vibrant green eyes scowling at him from behind a stringy mass of light brown hair. The friends immediately sat back.
“She’s what we’ve always heard, Gaius,” Varro warned. “She’s crazed.”
“Shit.”
“What?”
“She’s coming in here.”
And she did, forcing her way past Gaius’s guards and into his private chamber. “Well?” she demanded, folding her arms over her chest.
“Well what?”
“It’s a simple enough deal, Rebel King. I get your sister.... You help me stop Thracius. What are you not grasping? Gods, are you slow? No one warned me that you were slow.”
Gaius gripped the sword lying next to him, but Varro caught his hand and held it.
The queen looked at their joined hands, then them. “You two together then?”
“Together? What?”
She focused on Varro. “Can’t you talk to your mate? Get him to see reason?”
Gaius snatched his hand back and jumped to his feet. “Out!” he roared.
Annwyl pursed her lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Gaius—”
Ignoring the warning in Varro’s voice, Gaius stalked up to the queen. “Get out. Now.”
She stared up at him, then asked, “How did you lose that eye?” Startled by the question and then by Annwyl reaching up to lift his eye patch, Gaius slapped her hands away. So she slapped him back. They were slapping and kicking and shoving each other until Varro got between them
.
“Stop it! Both of you!”
Fed up, Gaius headed toward the exit, pushing past his own troops and the queen’s guard. Behind him Annwyl followed.
“I’m not leaving!” she yelled at his back. “I’m staying right here until I get what I want!”
“Then I guess you’re going to die here, female. Because you’ll get nothing from me!”
“You handled that well,” Izzy muttered, and Annwyl turned on her, pointing her finger in her face.
“Don’t start with me, little girl.”
“Not starting. Simply making an observation, my liege.”
“Just like your mum with that tone.”
“So what are we going to do now?” Rhona asked, proving she was the sanest of the group in Vigholf’s estimation.
“I’m not leaving.” Then Annwyl screamed at where the king had walked out, “Ever!”
“Gods deliver us,” Rhona muttered, walking away from the queen.
“So we’re just going to stand here?” Vigholf asked. “Until the king you just pissed off comes back in here and changes his mind? That dragon’s never changing his mind.”
“Why not?”
Vigholf frowned and replied, “He hates you.”
“Everyone hates me at some point or another. They get over it.”
“I haven’t,” Rhona snapped.
“Annwyl,” Vigholf cut in. “We have to get back to Euphrasia. We have to help our troops, our kin.”
“If we leave now . . . we lose. Don’t you understand that?”
“No. I don’t.”
“Do not question me, foreigner!” Annwyl bellowed, but just as quickly it seemed the fight went out of her. She rubbed at her eyes with her fists. “I can’t talk about this now.”
The queen walked off, and Izzy motioned to Branwen. “Keep an eye on her.”
The She-dragon followed after the royal and Rhona’s pretty human face turned red. “Why is my cousin taking orders from you?”
“That wasn’t really an order, but if it was, she’d still have to listen to me. I’m the Queen’s Squire.”