Last Dragon Standing
Page 84
When her face was numb, she sat back up, flipping her wet hair off her face. “Now.”
Ragnar crouched in front of her, held her nose between two fingers of each hand, and jerked it back into place. Keita closed her eyes and let out a shuddering breath.
“Thank you.” She stood but just as quickly sat down again, Ragnar’s arms catching her before her ass could hit the ground.
“Close your eyes,” Ragnar murmured. He placed his hand on her forehead, the palm pressed against her skin, his fingers gently massaging her scalp. She heard him chant softly, felt his breath brush her lips. And, in moments, her pain eased off.
His hand slid away, and he studied her closely. “Feel better?”
“Much. Thank you,” she said again.
“You’re welcome.” He sat down beside her.
“Why didn’t you do that for your cousin after Annwyl broke his leg?” He smiled a little. “Healing is a skill for females.”
“Is that your opinion or theirs?”
“It’s not mine, but I’ve never seen the point of enduring excruciating suffering. Then again, my father always referred to me as the ‘soft one.’”
“Your father…not the brightest dragon I’ve known. I was there only two weeks, and I had him convinced to gut out an entire section of his mountain for me.”
Ragnar peered at her, frowning a little. “Is that what happened to Olgeir Mountain?”
“Uh-huh. I told him I couldn’t live in an undecorated cavern like some bat. How could I ever be happy?”
“We store armor in there now. How did you convince him?”
“It was easy. Told him what he wanted to hear, acted like he wanted me to act, flattered him, charmed him—took me three days. And that was only because I spent the first day there sobbing softly and wringing my claws.”
“You weren’t scared at all, were you?”
Keita gave a small shake of her head. “When they didn’t take my wing right away…” She smiled. “Your brothers and cousins weren’t too bad.
A little thick. In the head, I mean.” She winced. “Thick in the head on their shoulders, I mean.”
“I understood your first reference.” Ragnar grabbed her hand gently in his, lifted it, and studied it for a long moment. After a time, he said, “Can I tell you something?”
“You watched me vomit for ten minutes and shoved my broken nose back into place so I can breathe again. I’m of the mind you can tell me anything.”
“I fear your mother may be right. About the Irons…about my cousin Styrbjörn. I think the Irons are planning to strike the Southlands through Northland territories.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Because it would be foolish to come through the Western Mountains.
There’s no place to hide. No way to craft battle plans that allow for any flexibility in attack. Once they’d come over the Western Mountains it would be a head-to-head fight with the Southlanders. A fight even my father wouldn’t risk. A fight the Irons already lost once before.”
“They could go south and cut through the Desert Lands.”
“And deal with the Sand dragons? No one’s that foolhardy.”
“Then the north it is.”
He took in a breath. “I realized they could come up by the Borderlands that dissect the Northlands and the Ice Lands from each other.
Cut through the Mountains of My Mother’s Misery and—” Keita placed her free hand on Ragnar’s knee. “I’m sorry but…the Mountains of My Mother’s Misery? That’s the actual name?” Appearing more embarrassed than she’d seen him before, Ragnar gave a small shrug. “Naming things…not our strong suit in the Northlands.”
“I see that now. So you think the Ice Land dragons will help?”
“There are no Ice Land dragons. There are the Snow dragons, who consider the Northlands a hot jungle of heat and misery. Somehow I doubt they’d be invading anytime soon.”
“Oh.”
“And then there are the Eternal Ones. The immortals who chose eternal life over family. There are only a handful of them, but they are dangerous.”
“Do you think they’ll help the Sovereigns?”
“They hate everyone. Eternal life has not made them happy from what I’ve heard and read. But if they decide to aid Thracius, as well, they would be a definite problem—they spew acid.”
“Ew.” That sounded so unpleasant, Keita thought no more about it.
“So you really think your cousin…”
“Styrbjörn.”
“Yes, Styrbjörn. You think he would really help the Irons?”
“No, Keita. I think he already has.”
Keita, so surprised by his admission, tried to pull her hand away, but Ragnar was in no mood to release her. He was trusting her at this moment.
Trusting her more than he’d trusted anyone before, except for his brother and cousin.
When he didn’t release her hand, she relaxed and asked, “What do you mean he already has?”
“My commanders near the Borderlands believe Styrbjörn had a small battalion of Irons escorted through the territory. A dragoness was with them, and much coin must have been exchanged for them to have not tried to take her.”
“Styrbjörn would betray his own for the Sovereigns?”
“It’s said that the closer one gets to the Ice Lands, the more one realizes that coin can buy you much. Especially loyalty.” She squeezed his fingers with her own. “Where was this battalion taken?”
Ragnar crouched in front of her, held her nose between two fingers of each hand, and jerked it back into place. Keita closed her eyes and let out a shuddering breath.
“Thank you.” She stood but just as quickly sat down again, Ragnar’s arms catching her before her ass could hit the ground.
“Close your eyes,” Ragnar murmured. He placed his hand on her forehead, the palm pressed against her skin, his fingers gently massaging her scalp. She heard him chant softly, felt his breath brush her lips. And, in moments, her pain eased off.
His hand slid away, and he studied her closely. “Feel better?”
“Much. Thank you,” she said again.
“You’re welcome.” He sat down beside her.
“Why didn’t you do that for your cousin after Annwyl broke his leg?” He smiled a little. “Healing is a skill for females.”
“Is that your opinion or theirs?”
“It’s not mine, but I’ve never seen the point of enduring excruciating suffering. Then again, my father always referred to me as the ‘soft one.’”
“Your father…not the brightest dragon I’ve known. I was there only two weeks, and I had him convinced to gut out an entire section of his mountain for me.”
Ragnar peered at her, frowning a little. “Is that what happened to Olgeir Mountain?”
“Uh-huh. I told him I couldn’t live in an undecorated cavern like some bat. How could I ever be happy?”
“We store armor in there now. How did you convince him?”
“It was easy. Told him what he wanted to hear, acted like he wanted me to act, flattered him, charmed him—took me three days. And that was only because I spent the first day there sobbing softly and wringing my claws.”
“You weren’t scared at all, were you?”
Keita gave a small shake of her head. “When they didn’t take my wing right away…” She smiled. “Your brothers and cousins weren’t too bad.
A little thick. In the head, I mean.” She winced. “Thick in the head on their shoulders, I mean.”
“I understood your first reference.” Ragnar grabbed her hand gently in his, lifted it, and studied it for a long moment. After a time, he said, “Can I tell you something?”
“You watched me vomit for ten minutes and shoved my broken nose back into place so I can breathe again. I’m of the mind you can tell me anything.”
“I fear your mother may be right. About the Irons…about my cousin Styrbjörn. I think the Irons are planning to strike the Southlands through Northland territories.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Because it would be foolish to come through the Western Mountains.
There’s no place to hide. No way to craft battle plans that allow for any flexibility in attack. Once they’d come over the Western Mountains it would be a head-to-head fight with the Southlanders. A fight even my father wouldn’t risk. A fight the Irons already lost once before.”
“They could go south and cut through the Desert Lands.”
“And deal with the Sand dragons? No one’s that foolhardy.”
“Then the north it is.”
He took in a breath. “I realized they could come up by the Borderlands that dissect the Northlands and the Ice Lands from each other.
Cut through the Mountains of My Mother’s Misery and—” Keita placed her free hand on Ragnar’s knee. “I’m sorry but…the Mountains of My Mother’s Misery? That’s the actual name?” Appearing more embarrassed than she’d seen him before, Ragnar gave a small shrug. “Naming things…not our strong suit in the Northlands.”
“I see that now. So you think the Ice Land dragons will help?”
“There are no Ice Land dragons. There are the Snow dragons, who consider the Northlands a hot jungle of heat and misery. Somehow I doubt they’d be invading anytime soon.”
“Oh.”
“And then there are the Eternal Ones. The immortals who chose eternal life over family. There are only a handful of them, but they are dangerous.”
“Do you think they’ll help the Sovereigns?”
“They hate everyone. Eternal life has not made them happy from what I’ve heard and read. But if they decide to aid Thracius, as well, they would be a definite problem—they spew acid.”
“Ew.” That sounded so unpleasant, Keita thought no more about it.
“So you really think your cousin…”
“Styrbjörn.”
“Yes, Styrbjörn. You think he would really help the Irons?”
“No, Keita. I think he already has.”
Keita, so surprised by his admission, tried to pull her hand away, but Ragnar was in no mood to release her. He was trusting her at this moment.
Trusting her more than he’d trusted anyone before, except for his brother and cousin.
When he didn’t release her hand, she relaxed and asked, “What do you mean he already has?”
“My commanders near the Borderlands believe Styrbjörn had a small battalion of Irons escorted through the territory. A dragoness was with them, and much coin must have been exchanged for them to have not tried to take her.”
“Styrbjörn would betray his own for the Sovereigns?”
“It’s said that the closer one gets to the Ice Lands, the more one realizes that coin can buy you much. Especially loyalty.” She squeezed his fingers with her own. “Where was this battalion taken?”
