How to Drive a Dragon Crazy
Page 3
Uther the Despicable, a cranky Brown from mountains near the port cities, grunted and snarled—as he snarled at most things—“And what are we doing while you’re playing happy families?” He gritted his fangs and pulled on the legs of the Ice Land dragon he held in his arms. The screaming during this was a tad unpleasant. “Joining another squad?”
“After what you lot did last time?” Éibhear asked.
“That was not my fault!” Caswyn the Butcher argued, yet again. “He shouldn’t have tried to push me around. I may not be some fancy royal, like you and pretty boy over there—”
Aidan grinned. “I am so very pretty.”
“—but that don’t mean some Red bastard can just walk all over me.”
“By ‘walk all over me,’” Éibhear cut in, “do you mean ask you to do your job?”
“Didn’t like his tone, did I?”
“So you tore his arms off.”
Caswyn’s head lowered a bit, his black wings bristling. “Don’t much like your tone either.”
“Yeah, but you already tried to tear Éibhear’s arms off,” Uther reminded him. “You were in a coma for weeks.”
“It was more a deep rest.”
Éibhear rolled his eyes and said, “You all will come with me.”
Uther’s head snapped up. “Will your sisters be there?”
Imitating his eager tone, Éibhear quickly replied, “They will! And so will my father!”
Uther’s face fell. “Oh.”
Reflective, Aidan stroked his chin while pounding his back claw into the head of the Spike lying in front of him. Again . . . still seemed unnecessary as that Spike was already quite dead. “How did your father not become Mì-runach? He seems ruthless enough.”
“Oh, he is,” Éibhear agreed. “But he can take orders.”
“Aaaaah,” the others said.
“So if we go with you,” Caswyn asked. “What do we do?”
Éibhear shrugged. “It’s Garbhán Isle. There’ll be drink and pu**y. What more do you need?” Garbhán Isle was the seat of power for the human queen of the Southlands, Annwyl the Bloody. Insane monarch and mate to Éibhear’s eldest brother Fearghus, Annwyl was adored and loathed in equal parts, but to Éibhear she’d simply become one of his sisters.
“Nothing,” Uther said. “But that makes me sad.”
“But first we take care of the Spikes leader in the Northlands.”
His squad groaned.
“What?”
“I’m tired of snow and ice,” Caswyn complained. “I’m tired of shades of purple and white. I want to see grass again. And trees. Birds that aren’t crows.”
“We won’t be in the Northlands long. Just long enough to do a little killing. You lot like killing. Remember?”
“I do remember. But you seem to have forgotten that the Northlanders hate you,” Aidan reminded him.
“Not more than the Ice Landers do.”
“Only because you haven’t been there for the last decade. Trust me, if you had, they’d only hate you more.”
“I want to see my sister Keita. As far as I know she’s still with Ragnar in the Northlands.”
“A little elegance among the barbarians.” Aidan sighed. “I guess that’s worth something.”
“So finish killing this lot,” Éibhear said, gesturing to the Spikes trying to crawl away. He really had to work on that with his team. They disabled, sometimes tortured, then killed, but the disabling and torture were just time consuming. They needed to kill faster so they could move to the drinking and females quicker. Honestly, one would think they’d know that already. “Then we head out.”
Éibhear turned, saw a Spike fighting with one of the other squads. He pulled his sword and headed over to assist. Aidan caught up to him.
“Oy,” his friend said.
“What?”
“You know what might be waiting for you back at Garbhán Isle, don’t you?”
“The loving warmth of my mother, the admiration of my father, and the caring of my dear brothers?”
“Are you going to be serious about this?”
Éibhear chuckled, then rammed his sword into the side of the Spike. It was an easier way to attack an Ice Land dragon since they had those bloody spikes going from the top of their heads, down their spines, to the tips of their tails. He twisted the blade while using his free claw to push the Ice Lander down by the side of his neck.
When the dragon took his last breath, Éibhear pulled out his sword, nodded at his fellow squad leader, then faced his friend. “Yeah. I know what might be waiting for me.”
“And?”
“And nothing. That was a long time ago . . . for a human. Besides, I apologized.”
Aidan frowned. “When? You haven’t seen her in nearly ten bloody years.”
“Remember? I sent her a letter.”
“Oh. The letter. Right.” Aidan looked off. “Yeah. I remember. The letter.”
“Although she never did answer me. Rude cow.”
“Yeah. Rude.”
“But I’m sure she’s over it. There was a healthy amount of groveling in that letter. She likes groveling.”
“I’m sure she does.”
“So there’s nothing to worry about.” Éibhear patted his suddenly quiet friend’s shoulder. “We’ll go. We’ll spend some time with my kin. Then hit every pub between Garbhán Isle and the Western Mountains as we go to meet up with Angor and the other squads. It’ll be a lovely holiday that we richly deserve.”
“After what you lot did last time?” Éibhear asked.
“That was not my fault!” Caswyn the Butcher argued, yet again. “He shouldn’t have tried to push me around. I may not be some fancy royal, like you and pretty boy over there—”
Aidan grinned. “I am so very pretty.”
“—but that don’t mean some Red bastard can just walk all over me.”
“By ‘walk all over me,’” Éibhear cut in, “do you mean ask you to do your job?”
“Didn’t like his tone, did I?”
“So you tore his arms off.”
Caswyn’s head lowered a bit, his black wings bristling. “Don’t much like your tone either.”
“Yeah, but you already tried to tear Éibhear’s arms off,” Uther reminded him. “You were in a coma for weeks.”
“It was more a deep rest.”
Éibhear rolled his eyes and said, “You all will come with me.”
Uther’s head snapped up. “Will your sisters be there?”
Imitating his eager tone, Éibhear quickly replied, “They will! And so will my father!”
Uther’s face fell. “Oh.”
Reflective, Aidan stroked his chin while pounding his back claw into the head of the Spike lying in front of him. Again . . . still seemed unnecessary as that Spike was already quite dead. “How did your father not become Mì-runach? He seems ruthless enough.”
“Oh, he is,” Éibhear agreed. “But he can take orders.”
“Aaaaah,” the others said.
“So if we go with you,” Caswyn asked. “What do we do?”
Éibhear shrugged. “It’s Garbhán Isle. There’ll be drink and pu**y. What more do you need?” Garbhán Isle was the seat of power for the human queen of the Southlands, Annwyl the Bloody. Insane monarch and mate to Éibhear’s eldest brother Fearghus, Annwyl was adored and loathed in equal parts, but to Éibhear she’d simply become one of his sisters.
“Nothing,” Uther said. “But that makes me sad.”
“But first we take care of the Spikes leader in the Northlands.”
His squad groaned.
“What?”
“I’m tired of snow and ice,” Caswyn complained. “I’m tired of shades of purple and white. I want to see grass again. And trees. Birds that aren’t crows.”
“We won’t be in the Northlands long. Just long enough to do a little killing. You lot like killing. Remember?”
“I do remember. But you seem to have forgotten that the Northlanders hate you,” Aidan reminded him.
“Not more than the Ice Landers do.”
“Only because you haven’t been there for the last decade. Trust me, if you had, they’d only hate you more.”
“I want to see my sister Keita. As far as I know she’s still with Ragnar in the Northlands.”
“A little elegance among the barbarians.” Aidan sighed. “I guess that’s worth something.”
“So finish killing this lot,” Éibhear said, gesturing to the Spikes trying to crawl away. He really had to work on that with his team. They disabled, sometimes tortured, then killed, but the disabling and torture were just time consuming. They needed to kill faster so they could move to the drinking and females quicker. Honestly, one would think they’d know that already. “Then we head out.”
Éibhear turned, saw a Spike fighting with one of the other squads. He pulled his sword and headed over to assist. Aidan caught up to him.
“Oy,” his friend said.
“What?”
“You know what might be waiting for you back at Garbhán Isle, don’t you?”
“The loving warmth of my mother, the admiration of my father, and the caring of my dear brothers?”
“Are you going to be serious about this?”
Éibhear chuckled, then rammed his sword into the side of the Spike. It was an easier way to attack an Ice Land dragon since they had those bloody spikes going from the top of their heads, down their spines, to the tips of their tails. He twisted the blade while using his free claw to push the Ice Lander down by the side of his neck.
When the dragon took his last breath, Éibhear pulled out his sword, nodded at his fellow squad leader, then faced his friend. “Yeah. I know what might be waiting for me.”
“And?”
“And nothing. That was a long time ago . . . for a human. Besides, I apologized.”
Aidan frowned. “When? You haven’t seen her in nearly ten bloody years.”
“Remember? I sent her a letter.”
“Oh. The letter. Right.” Aidan looked off. “Yeah. I remember. The letter.”
“Although she never did answer me. Rude cow.”
“Yeah. Rude.”
“But I’m sure she’s over it. There was a healthy amount of groveling in that letter. She likes groveling.”
“I’m sure she does.”
“So there’s nothing to worry about.” Éibhear patted his suddenly quiet friend’s shoulder. “We’ll go. We’ll spend some time with my kin. Then hit every pub between Garbhán Isle and the Western Mountains as we go to meet up with Angor and the other squads. It’ll be a lovely holiday that we richly deserve.”
