by G. A. Aiken
It always amazed her how some dragons could be no better than the lowliest of humans. Harming others simply for their own amusement. Brannie would kill a body in battle or if threatened or hungry. But just to watch others hurt? That did nothing but piss Brannie off and, thankfully, it pissed her kin off as well.
She went to the She-dragon’s side, lifted her chin with her gloved hand.
“My lady? Can you hear me?” She pulled out the glass bottle King Gaius had given her. “You need to drink this.” The royal turned her head, groaning, but Brannie heard a bit of a snarl and that gave her hope. “Please, my lady. It’ll give you strength until we’re free of this place.”
“Never free,” she muttered. “Never.”
“You need to be strong. Please. For your brother.”
Somehow the dragoness forced those swollen eyes open and gazed at Brannie. “Southlander.”
“Your brother sent us. Oh!” Brannie pulled out the necklace King Gaius had given them before they left. She showed her the stone pendant at the end. “Here. He wanted me to show you this.”
“Gaius.”
“He sent me. But you need to drink this. Now. My cousin can’t hold them off forever.”
The royal jerked her head a bit and opened her mouth. Brannie poured the contents of the bottle in.
“Now swallow that down and I’ll get you out of these chains. Gods,” she went on while she tried the keys on the royal’s manacles. “Treating your family like this. I don’t understand it. Yeah, sure. We’ll beat the shit out of our kin if they’re asking for it, we Cadwaladrs will. But that’s it. We’d never do this to each other.”
None of the keys she held worked, so Brannie used her ax. With two hits, the chain broke and she helped the royal to her feet.
“Can you walk?”
In answer to that, the royal went down, her hands grasping at the gold collar. Brannie realized it must be one of those mystical ones that could keep a dragon in human form. Only this collar seemed to be doing more than that. Now that the royal was loose from her bonds, the damn thing seemed to be choking her to death.
“Shit,” Brannie said, crouching before the royal and gripping the collar. She knew absolutely nothing about Magicks and such. She left that to the witches and mages. Too much reading and thinking for Brannie’s tastes. But then how was she going to deal with this thing if she didn’t even know what it was? At the very least she had to deal with it before it killed this female.
Brannie studied the thing while desperately trying to ignore that the royal’s human face was turning blue. From what she knew, never a good thing. With a quick glance, she realized that there was a small lock in the collar that needed a key. Too bad she didn’t have the key. None of the ones she had were small enough to fit. She had nothing.
Desperate, Brannie left the royal’s side and went back to her cousin.
“The royal!” she yelled.
“What about her?” Rhona yelled back, fighting off three and four dragons at a time.
“She’s got a collar. I can’t get it off!”
“So?”
“It’s killing her!”
Rhona snarled. “Shit and piss!” She tossed her spear to Brannie. “Take over!”
Thankful to be back to what she understood—fighting—Brannie followed orders.
Rhona ran to the royal’s side and quickly saw that what Brannie had said was true. The She-dragon’s face was blue, her hands desperately gripping that gold collar. That bitch Vateria wanted to make sure the royal didn’t escape even if King Gaius had been able to rescue her himself.
Rhona crouched over the royal and pushed her hands away from the collar. She felt around the metal and saw the small keyhole, which meant there was a key. A key that probably only Vateria had. But no matter because Rhona was the eldest daughter of Sulien, which was meaningful for two reasons.
She forced her fingers between the collar and the royal’s neck, hoping to relieve some pressure. Rhona opened her mouth and unleashed molten lava into her free hand. She spread the lava around the collar before it had a chance to cool and chanted the appropriate words. She watched as the collar changed from gold to steel to glass.
Rhona broke the collar then and the royal began to gasp as she took in big gulps of air.
“That’s a good lass,” Rhona said, patting the female’s shoulder. “Think you can stand?”
The royal nodded and Rhona helped her to her feet. But they were halfway across the room when the female began to shake and shudder. It took Rhona a moment, but she quickly realized the She-dragon was having a seizure.
The shaking became worse and Rhona was forced to set her down, stretching her out on the floor, and pressing her hands against the female’s shoulders. Gods, she hoped the She-dragon didn’t shift. These dungeons had not been built for a dragon to shift to natural form.
“Rhona, come on!” Brannie yelled. Rhona could hear that her cousin was still fighting in the hallway around the corner.
“Hold the line!” Rhona ordered Brannie. “We’ll be right—”
A strong hand closed around Rhona’s throat and squeezed, cutting off her air and risking bones she’d become rather fond of.
Rhona punched at the hand and arm holding her, but the royal ignored all that as she slowly got to her feet.
The female studied Rhona like some offending mouse she’d found in her room, looking her over from head to foot.
“My brother sent you to rescue me?”
Rhona, unable to get this female off her without cutting her open from belly to throat—which would only make the whole trip a bit of a waste—pointed toward the exit.
The royal’s head turned a bit and she listened.
“You’re not alone. Good.”
She dropped Rhona to the ground and stepped over her as if she was someone else’s trash on the street. Gods, Rhona never thought she’d find royals more ungrateful than her own, but she’d been quite wrong.
Rhona jumped to her feet and went after the royal, ignoring her sore neck.
The She-dragon walked down the small hallway until she reached the turn where Brannie was doing an excellent job of keeping the guards at bay.
She was fighting off four at once when the royal walked up behind her, caught Brannie by the hair, and yanked her out of the way.
The royal stepped in front of the Irons, her back straight, her swollen eyes open and clear.
“You,” one of the Irons whispered. Then he screamed, “Gods above, she’s free!”
Rhona didn’t like the sound of that, but there was nothing she could do now as the She-dragon smiled a bit, took in a small breath, and while still in human form unleashed the most brutal and widespread flame that Rhona had ever seen. Sounding like hurricane winds coming in off the sea, the white-hot blast filled the room and, Rhona could see, melted stone and metal while covering the Iron dragons in the hallway. The flame was so bad that Rhona instinctively grabbed her cousin and covered her with her own body.
When the sounds of those flames died, Rhona lifted her head. The She-dragon stood there before the remains of dragons whose armor had been melted into their human forms, killing them instantly. As fellow Fire Breathers that should never be a problem when dealing with flame.
The royal looked at Rhona over her shoulder, and Rhona yanked her spear from Brannie’s hand and faced her while still protecting her cousin.
The She-dragon ignored that and said, “Come. We must go. And quickly. Before this lot starts shifting back. I’ve damaged the stone columns.... The base will crumble now and cave in the entire arena.”
“I have to get my comrades.”
“Comrades?”
“Aye. In order to distract Vateria so we could get you, our friends are fighting in the arena.”
“Trust me. That won’t distract my cousin for one bit, which is why we need to go now. Besides, your comrades are a lost cause if they’re in the arena.”
From behind her, Brannie said, “I’m not leav
ing Izzy, Rhona. She’d never leave me.”
The royal stopped. “She? You put females in the pit?”
“They were the only ones among us that were human.”
“I see.” The royal began walking. “Then, if they haven’t already been raped to death and eaten, I suggest we go get your friends now.”
“Uh . . . Rhona?”
“I know, I know. But we follow the plan. We follow our orders.”
“Doesn’t the royal outrank us, though?” Brannie whispered.
“She’s not our royal. Now come on. We need to give Vigholf the signal.”
Vigholf tried again to get the gods-damn bars off the gods-damn grate, but they weren’t moving. So, like some wretched human male, he was forced to watch as Annwyl got tossed around the arena like a toy and Izzy earned boos because she was a fast runner and dodger. But how much longer could they keep it up? And where the bloody hells was Rhona?
Annwyl was backhanded and sent flying. She hit the arena wall and slid down. One of the ogres picked her up and dragged her back to the center. He threw her down, flat on her back, and raised his club over her.
“Now!” Brannie barked as she ran past him, hardcharging right for the exit so she could begin clearing the way of soldiers.
“Now!” Vigholf yelled into the arena, unable to do anything but watch that club, already in mid-swing, come down at Annwyl’s head.
Annwyl heard Vigholf’s yell and relieved because she was fed up with playing nice, she rolled to her side. The club slammed into the ground beside her as Annwyl got to her feet.
The ogre, not the brightest of breeds, stared at her, mouth open and ew—there was drool. Annwyl hated when things drooled! Disgusted beyond all reckoning, Annwyl quickly pulled the small steel stick Rhona had made for her, prayed the blacksmith’s daughter was as good as Vigholf had bragged, and watched the stick extend into the long-handled ax she’d thought of.
Pleased, Annwyl brought the ax up and over, burying it into the side of the ogre’s neck. It screeched and Annwyl put her foot on its chest and pushed, while yanking the ax out. Another ogre came at her from behind, but she quickly spun and hacked off its head, spun back, and finished off the other one by splitting its skull into two.
“Izzy!” Annwyl called out to her squire. “Kill ’em all!”
Izzy stopped running and turned. A club swung at her and she ducked, the heavy spiked weapon crashing into the wall. Izzy slammed her hands against the ogre’s arms, breaking them both as she pinned them. She snatched the club from the ogre’s hands and used it to crush its head in. Then Iz went about crushing the rest of them with that club she seemed to be enjoying way too much.
Gods, but the girl was strong. Really, really strong.
And while Izzy did what she did best—kill stuff—Annwyl focused on the raised dais that Vateria sat upon.
Because to get this far, this close to ending the war for good, Annwyl had made an agreement. A price she must now pay for such goodwill from the gods. Nothing was for free it seemed, even when the god had paws and liked to be scratched behind the ears. So, ignoring the guards sprinting at her from the three entrances in the arena—and any common sense—Annwyl ran right for the dais and the ones on it.
Vateria laughed a little. “Oh, look, Junius. The human queen is going to try and assassinate me. Isn’t that cute?”
Junius nodded. “I believe she is, my queen. Would you like me to have her killed for you or just incapacitated?”
“Incapacitate is fine, but in a moment. I want to see how far she gets.”
“Her little friend seems to be having quite the time with the ogres,” her sister noted.
“That she is. Although I was hoping for something a little different there.”
Vateria and her guests laughed as Annwyl the Bloody used her ax—where did she get that from anyway?—to cut down human soldiers that got too close. Vateria’s dragon guards hit the woman with flame as they ran toward her, but that didn’t affect her at all. Vateria glanced back at Junius, and he suggested, “A spell of protection, my lady. Probably from the Dragon Queen.”
“Ah, yes.” Although why any dragon would give a human that kind of protection was beyond Vateria. It was knowing that the Irons could destroy them and those they loved that kept the Sovereigns in line.
Vateria watched with a smile when the scarred little wretch skidded to a stop in front of the dais, her arm going back, the ax in her hand changing somehow to what looked to be a much smaller throwing ax of some kind. Fascinating.
“Junius,” she said calmly so as to not concern her guests.
“Of course, my lady.”
Junius raised his hands and Vateria felt the Magick he unleashed wrap around her like a protective cloak. And Vateria smiled as the human threw her weapon, but—she realized too late—the little bitch wasn’t aiming for her.
Vateria looked to her mage, screaming, “Junius!”
Hearing the warning, Junius turned, raising his hands to block the weapon, but it was too late. The ax rammed into his head with unbelievable force, splitting his skull down to his nose. His body flew back, crashing into the guards behind him, and Vateria stood, screeching in rage and pain and abject loss.
She turned toward the human queen and—gods-damn the cuntish whore to the very pits of hell—Annwyl laughed at her. At her! She laughed, turned, and took off running, heading toward the fighter entrance.
Behind Vateria her mage shifted back to his natural form, pillars crumbling from his dragon body pushing into them.
Those that were dragon simply shifted and took to the air. But those humans whose dragon masters didn’t remember to take their pets and slaves with them were crushed.
Vateria shifted and dove toward the arena, her claws reaching out, talons ready to catch the worthless human who’d killed what belonged to her.
The human looked over her shoulder, saw Vateria, and screamed out, “Shit!” before leaping into the arms of some Northlander. He unleashed bolts of lightning at Vateria, but she was too angry to feel the pain from it. Too angry to care. She just kept coming even as the Northlander shoved the human queen and her big-muscled girl-soldier into the tunnels.
It had been some time since Vateria had killed a Northlander. First him, then—
Vateria’s wings jerked forward and back, halting her in mid-flight as that bitch walked past the Northlander from the fighter’s entrance. She was still naked, still in her human form.
Vateria roared at her cousin. She roared and unleashed her flame. But Agrippina merely shook it off and opened her mouth....
That’s when Vateria made a run for it.
Rhona grabbed the royal’s arm. “Leave her!”
“She’s mine!” the royal bellowed.
“Not now!” She pulled, but the royal wouldn’t move. “Vigholf!”
He ran out and swept the female into his arms, tossing her over his shoulders as he ran. “Go!” he ordered Rhona. “Now!”
They made it out of the crumbling arena, the bodies of the dragon Annwyl killed and the dragons the royal had killed below destroying the coliseum from within. They rushed through the tunnels while behind them more soldiers charged at them. They made it to the exit and ran into the streets, Vigholf pushing them along.
Once outside, Vigholf lifted his head and unleashed long bolts of lightning that reached high into the air. Seconds later, they heard the battle cries from the Rebel King’s human cavalry. They breeched the gates on horseback, riding into the crowd and sending them panicking and screaming, running anywhere and everywhere, it seemed.
Rhona pushed through the crowds, but the Sovereign soldiers, some of the most well trained she’d ever come across in her life, were not confused by Gaius’s men. Instead, they surrounded the small group, their focus on one thing and one thing only.
“Hand her over,” the commander said, pointing at the royal Vigholf had over his shoulder. “Hand her over or we’ll kill—”
The commander’s eyes sudde
nly widened, his mouth opened, and a blade pushed through his chest from behind. When he fell forward dead, Rhona wouldn’t say she was surprised to see Annwyl standing behind him, but she was relieved. The soldiers quickly snapped out of their shock at the loss of their commander and they went on the attack. Annwyl dove in sword first, as was her way, Izzy and Brannie fighting by her side.
“Take the royal,” Annwyl ordered Vigholf. “Take her and go. We’ll be right behind you!”
Rhona motioned to Vigholf. The strength that the Iron royal had a few minutes before was quickly waning, and if she died, Rhona would prefer it was in her brother’s arms rather than theirs. “Go, Vigholf. Take her.”
“And you?” he asked, gazing down at her. Doing something she didn’t think he ever would—trusting her to protect herself.
Rhona smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll be right behind you.”
Vigholf stroked her cheek with his hand. “You better be,” he warned. Then he swung his hammer and battered his way through the soldiers surrounding them.
Chapter 32
It was the abrupt silence that worried him. For days it hadn’t been quiet. Not with boulders constantly slamming into the cave walls of their stronghold.
But now?
Now there was nothing, and Meinhard the Savage didn’t like that at all.
By the time Meinhard made it to the cave entrance that faced the Polycarp Mountains, Ragnar was already there, staring out.
“Get everyone ready,” his cousin ordered.
“Already done.”
“The Fire Breathers?”
“Ready.”
Meinhard waited for his cousin to give the next order, but Ragnar didn’t move.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. Something’s not right. It’s too quiet. It’s too—”