by G. A. Aiken
Rhona frowned in confusion; then her brown eyes grew wide.
“You,” Rhona said, pointing at the wolf. “You can send us to Annwyl, yeah?”
“To Euphrasia,” Vigholf clarified. A good idea since who the hells knew where that pissed-off goddess sent Annwyl.
The wolf looked at King Gaius. The Iron glanced at his sister, then said to the wolf, “Let us end this. Send us. We’re ready to fight.”
The god nodded once—and they were flying.
Aggie made the mistake of blinking. That’s how fast they were gone. With no more than a nod from the god, some Southlanders, a Northlander, her brother, and Gaius’s entire army were gone with just a thought.
She heard her cousin’s soldiers moving through the trees toward her. Except for the cape Varro had given her, Aggie was naked and alone. But she wouldn’t go back to that dungeon. She would never go back.
The first group of thirty burst through the trees into the clearing. They saw her sitting on that boulder and the captain smiled.
“My lady,” he said.
“Captain.” Aggie forced herself to her feet, amused when the soldiers flinched.
“Now, now, my lady,” the captain said, “let’s not be hasty.”
“I’ll not go back. You know that.”
“I know you’ll fight, but you won’t be able to stop us. Look at you . . . every second you’re getting weaker and weaker. All we have to do is wait for you to drop.” And Aggie felt real fear at the captain’s words, but the wolf, now much smaller than he had been before, stepped in front of her, facing the soldiers. That’s when Aggie realized she’d gone deaf. She could hear nothing. Not the soldiers laughing at the wolf or the wind in the trees or even the sound of her own heartbeat. She heard nothing, but she could see well enough. She saw the wolf bark. Once. And although Aggie could hear nothing, the world around her shook. Trees falling, boulders rolling, and the ground cracking open beneath the soldiers’ feet. The men opened their mouths—she assumed they were screaming—their hands grabbing their heads, blood pouring from their ears and through their fingers.
When they were dead on the ground, the wolf walked back to Aggie’s side, pushing into her with his body. She could hear again now that the danger had passed, so she nodded at him. “Thank you.”
He pushed her again. He was offering to escort her home, and she silently accepted. If for no other reason than how many times in her life would she be able to claim a god had walked her home?
With one last look at where her brother had stood and with a silent prayer that he would be safe, she headed home, the god by her side.
Chapter 33
“That conniving, evil, whore of a god!”
Éibhear heard a voice he hadn’t heard for five years but knew so well. Annwyl’s voice. But when he turned to look at his brother’s mate, Celyn punched him in the face.
Snarling, he returned his focus to his cousin. Annwyl and why she was in these tunnels could wait.
A horn he knew was not a Southland horn sounded in the distance and Edana, who’d been trying, with Austell, to separate him and Celyn, abruptly stopped.
“Edana?” Breena asked, and Éibhear heard the warning in his cousin’s voice. The fear. That’s when the ground shuddered beneath them and Edana caught hold of Éibhear and Celyn by the neck of their breastplates, her tail whipping out and wrapping around one of the old cave rocks that jutted from the ground. Not even a second later, the ground opened up. So stunned by this, they all dropped. But Edana held him and Celyn. Breena caught Annwyl, and Nesta caught Breena, yanking both onto firm land. But no one, absolutely no one, caught Austell. And the drop was so short, even if he’d thought about it, his wings would have been of no use. Besides. It wasn’t the drop that killed him—it was the row after row of planted, sharpened steel stakes that did.
Éibhear only had a moment to realize his friend and many of his comrades were impaled on those stakes before Irons flew out of the opening that ran the entire length and width of the tunnel. All these months while they’d been building the tunnel, the Irons had been building one right underneath. Waiting for this moment.
“Everyone out!” Edana screamed. “Out! Move!” She threw Celyn and Éibhear and the pair spread their wings, went up. But for Éibhear all he could still see was Austell. The weight of his friend’s body dragging him down that stake, his wide-open eyes glazing over as he tried twice to breathe, then stopped trying altogether.
“Éibhear!” Celyn yelled. “Come on!”
An Iron charged, ramming a steel spike at Éibhear. But Éibhear caught it and with one claw, bent the metal.
And that’s when a rage he’d never known took over.
Like it had a few hours ago, the ground beneath Gwenvael’s claws shook. He looked down, expecting to see the ground beneath him cracking or for something to explode, as the Irons had done to the Polycarp Mountains. But there was nothing. At least nothing around them. Then he heard one of his younger cousins screaming from the entrance to their cave.
“The tunnels! They’re coming in from under the tunnels!”
Gwenvael looked at his brothers and they all thought the same thing at the same time. Éibhear.
But then the Irons they were fighting suddenly charged, pushing them all back.
Breena still held the royal in her arms while her fellow troops who’d been working on the tunnel—but hadn’t fallen into the death trap below—were pouring into the cavern. Their older sister Delen was trying to get everyone under control so they could assemble a counterattack. But they were young recruits. Mostly privates and unseasoned. For some it was their first real battle and they were panicking.
“Put me over there!” Annwyl ordered her. “On that boulder.”
Breena did as she was told and Annwyl with a bellow that could shake the walls called out, “OY!”
Every private and corporal, used to being yelled at and ordered about by superiors, immediately came to attention.
“Calm down!” the monarch ordered. “Now. You don’t have time for all this. You—” She pointed her sword at Celyn and several of his siblings. “Get back in there and help Éibhear. He’s in there fighting alone.” When they only stood there, gawking at her, “Don’t just stand there, you twats! Move!” They did.
“You—” She pointed at Delen. “Get your mother. Get Ghleanna. Get them all! Tell them what happened. Tell them the Irons are coming in through the tunnels.”
“But—”
“They’ll overwhelm you lot, break through, and destroy our army from the inside out. We can’t afford that, so move!”
Edana stepped forward. “What do you need from us, Annwyl?”
“The Cadwaladr triplets.” She grinned. “You’re all coming with me.”
Fearghus dodged an Iron spear to the face and blocked a sword to the gut. One of his cousins came in from behind and shoved her broadsword into the back of one dragon while he took out the legs of the other.
“Fearghus!” Delen dropped next to them. “Where’s Mum? Ghleanna?”
He pointed with his sword. “A mile that way. Why?”
“The Irons.” Delen shook her head. “They tore open our tunnel, are pouring in through it now. Annwyl says—”
Fearghus faced his cousin, ignoring the Iron at his feet trying to drag himself off without legs. “Annwyl? Annwyl’s here?”
“Aye. She went off with the triplets.” Delen shook her head. “We’re overrun in there, Fearghus.”
“Briec! Gwenvael! Go!”
“What about you?” Briec asked. Gwenvael was already calling his troops to follow him.
“Don’t worry about me. Éibhear’s in there,” he reminded him. “And Mum will have our asses if we let anything happen to that little bugger.”
Colonel Ampius sat on his horse beside Lord Laudaricus Parthenius.
“How much longer?” Parthenius asked Ampius.
“Soon, sir. Overlord Thracius has the Southland dragons trapped between his armies a
nd the Hesiod Mountains. And we’re holding off Annwyl the Bloody’s army in the pass entrance.
“Good. Once Thracius gives the order, we move in to crush what remains of the queen’s army.”
“Yes, sir.”
Another commander leaned over and warned, “More dragons, sir.”
“Use the spears.”
“Yes, sir.”
The other commanders called out Laudaricus’s orders, allowing him to sit back and watch. The soldiers pulled the giant catapult around, several twenty-five-foot wood spears already loaded into the mechanism.
The dragons flew closer, dodging the arrows shot at them from the ground.
“Hurry up with those spears, you worthless bastards!” Ampius yelled out.
The order was given and the spears unleashed. They were near their target when the three dragons turned at the same time, the spears shooting past them. It was strange, how the three dragons moved at the same time, in the same way. Usually at least one dragon was struck when the others scrambled to avoid the spears.
The dragons continued toward them.
“Get the spears ready again,” Parthenius ordered.
The spears were quickly re-loaded and aimed. The three dragons were close now. Nearly over them. If they moved lower to attack them directly, the spears or arrows would definitely take them down. But instead the one in the middle tilted to the side, something falling from its back.
“What the hells is that?” Parthenius asked him.
“I don’t know, sir, but—” Ampius’s words stopped, his mouth open as a woman landed on the back of Parthenius’s white stallion, two swords slamming into their leader’s shoulders and into his spine, killing him instantly.
The woman yanked her blades out, and pushed Parthenius’s body off the restless horse, settling into the saddle.
Grinning, she looked at the men surrounding her.
“Hello, lads.” Her grin widened, and Ampius felt real fear for the first time in a long time. “Name’s Annwyl.”
Fearghus and Ragnar stood side by side now, fighting their way through the Irons pushing in. But with his brothers’ troops in the caves, they were quickly becoming overwhelmed and they both knew it.
“Pull back!” Ragnar yelled after a nod from Fearghus. “Pull back!”
Their troops pulled back, but the Irons pushed forward, the call for a charge made.
“Shit,” Ragnar muttered.
“Yeah. I know.” But to the troops he yelled, “Shields!” Their troops lined up, shields locked. “Hold the line!”
The Irons crashed into their shields. “Hold the line!” Fearghus yelled, slamming his sword into the Irons trying to push them even farther back.
Moments from calling the order to retreat—something he was loath to do—a light flashed and Fearghus watched as dragons and human soldiers from . . . somewhere, he didn’t know, crashed into the Irons, battering and crushing them.
The Iron troops who’d been advancing turned toward this new attack, rushing forward to assist their comrades.
From the pile of dragons and humans a figure rose. What looked to be an Iron, all steel-colored but with long hair like Southlanders wore, and a patch over one eye, he stood tall, glaring out of that one good eye at everything around him.
“Who the battle-fuck is that?” Fearghus asked.
“I think that’s the . . . wait. Is that Izzy?”
Fearghus leaned forward, squinting. And, yes. Yes, that was Izzy, climbing onto the back of Branwen, the pair taking off.
“What the hells—”
The Irons were rushing back into formation, their commanders getting them organized. But the Iron with the eye patch didn’t seem to be in the mood to wait. He gave the order and the Irons with him went on the attack. But they didn’t attack the Southlanders, but the other Irons. Thracius’s soldiers.
In the midst of it, Fearghus saw two other dragons get to their claws. “It’s Rhona.” He grinned. “And your brother.”
Ragnar put his head down, briefly closed his eyes. “He’s alive,” he said softly. “He’s alive.”
“And somewhere around here is Annwyl. Killing someone or something I’m sure.”
Brannie landed behind some trees, their view of the fighting clear. “Let’s find Annwyl,” she told Izzy.
“No.”
“No? What do you mean no?” Brannie had assumed that would be the one thing, the only thing Izzy would want to do.
“Look over there.”
She followed where Izzy pointed. “Yeah?”
“That has to be him, right? Look at that armor . . . and the way he’s standing high up on that hill, giving out orders. That’s gotta be him.”
“That’s gotta be who? What are you talking about?”
“That’s Overlord Thracius.”
“So?” When Izzy said nothing, Brannie exploded. “You have lost your mind!”
“Hear me out—”
“No!”
“They’ll never expect us.”
“There’s a good reason they would never expect us. Because I’m a lowly private and you’re a squire.”
“I’m not saying we should kill him.”
“That’s good because we can’t.”
“But maybe we can wound him. Make it so Gaius can get to him. Finish him. Otherwise he’s going to fly away and this won’t end.”
“You’re as crazy as Annwyl.”
“But she’s been right. Crazy, but right.” She pressed her hand to Brannie’s shoulder. “All we need to do is wound him, Bran. Then we run for our lives.”
“You promise?”
She patted her. “I promise. I have plans! Can’t be promoted to general if I’m dead.”
“Yes. That eases my concern, cousin.”
And Izzy’s laugh . . . did not make it any better either.
“There had to be an easier way for him to do that,” Rhona complained, trying to wipe the dirt off her scales from where she’d slid into the ground.
“Be glad you shifted back before we got here.” Vigholf winced. “Some of Gaius’s human troops didn’t fare so well.”
She looked around, nodded. “At least we’re here. We’re back. I need to find my sisters.”
Rhona started to walk off, but Vigholf caught her claw. “Be careful. We have much to discuss when this is over.”
“Aye,” she agreed. “We do.”
He nodded and said, “Behind you.”
Using her spear, she turned and impaled the Iron that had been running at her. She dragged him around and Vigholf brought his hammer down, cracking the bastard’s skull, and finishing him up.
They smiled at each other for a long moment before Rhona unfurled her wings and took to the skies, spearing Irons as she went along.
Letting out a sigh and trying to ignore how hard he’d become just watching her do that, Vigholf turned and came snout-to-snout with his brother.
“So . . . you’re alive then?” Ragnar asked.
“Last time I looked.”
“And that dragon over there? With what I’m sure Keita will refer to as the ‘sexy eye patch’?”
“Gaius. The Rebel King.”
“So Annwyl did it then?”
“Did you really have any doubt?”
Ragnar shook his head. “Not really.”
Vigholf hefted his weapon, resting it against his shoulder. “Let’s get this done, brother. We’ve got an overlord to get rid of, I’ve got a female to Claim, and we have some Tribesmen to stomp out at Garbhán Isle.”
Ragnar sighed. “So much bloody work. Can’t wait to take a proper holiday.”
“We’re Northlanders. We don’t take holidays.”
“Oh, for the love of the gods, shut the battle-fuck up.”
Brastias breathed a bit easier when he saw an aerial assault in the form of three She-dragons. They were smallish, but that seemed to only make them faster—and a wee bit meaner. They tossed the Sovereigns around like toy soldiers and happily destroyed attac
k weapons aimed at dragons.
One of them flew down to Brastias, slamming her back legs down and crushing several soldiers he’d been fighting with.
“Go!” she ordered, pointing toward where the army had been headed. “Annwyl’s there. Fighting alone!”
Shocked, Brastias stopped a moment to stare at the She-dragon.
“Well, don’t just stand there, you clod! Move!”
He whistled over his horse and mounted. “Danelin! Call the troops to me! We go to Annwyl!” He couldn’t help but smile a little at his second in command. “We go to our queen.”
Rhona came around the corner to find Annwyl decimating what looked to be Sovereign commanders while on horseback and Annwyl’s troops pouring out of a side pass to engage the Sovereign soldiers.
“Rhona!” a trio of voices screeched and then the triplets were there, hugging her, squealing like little hatchlings.
She hugged them back, so glad to see them well and strong.
“I’m so glad you’re back, Rhona,” Edana said. “To be honest, we don’t know how you do any of it. Running everything. It’s a bloody nightmare, it is.”
“Edana was busy trying to be you,” Breena teased.
“We laughed at her,” Nesta admitted.
“I’m glad you’re all okay. Where are we?” Rhona asked.
The triplets immediately turned serious, and Edana spoke first. “They set a trap for us, Rhona. They built a trap right under our bloody tunnel.”
“We started to find them inside the caves a day or two ago, but we thought there was just another entrance we missed. But they were under us the whole time.”
“They were waiting for the time to strike,” Breena added. “And they did, this morning. Leveling the Polycarp Mountains first, drawing us out.”
“How many did we lose?” Rhona asked, never one to shirk from real numbers and real information. Even when every fellow soldier they lost cut her like glass.
“A few of the recruits,” Edana replied. “We were all evacuating the tunnels when they struck. Took the floor out from under us in one fell swoop.”