The Dragon Who Loved Me
Page 6
“Fine. I’l be working in the tunnels the next couple of days with my troops. I’m hoping to push them along to get the tunnel done. Sooner we can get under those mountains, the sooner we can wipe out the Irons and go home. Unlike our mother, I do get bored. Now”—her sister patted Rhona’s shoulder with her tail—“why don’t you go on and take your break. You’ve been working nonstop for days. You’re no use to any of us if you’re asleep once we hit the other side.”
Rhona chuckled. “Good point.”
“You going for a bath?” her sister whispered.
“Trying to.”
“Take that exit.” She pointed at a narrow tunnel cut through the cave rock. “You’l have to go outside for a bit, but you’l avoid Mum.”
“Thanks, luv.”
Rhona slipped away without being noticed and eased through the narrow tunnel until she found herself on the mountain’s summit. She stopped, gazing out over Euphrasia Val ey. A stretch of land caught in the middle of the Northland territories, the Western Mountains, and the Southlands. A rough and dangerous val ey with thick, almost junglelike forests during the summer and brutal y cold winds and ice storms during the winter. It was surrounded by a ring of mountains in varying sizes. They’d made the Hesiod Mountains their stronghold while the Irons were directly opposite from them using the Polycarp Mountains as their protection. Could be worse, though. At least they had access to fresh water and supplies.
“Nice, yeah?”
Rhona’s shoulders slumped, her eyes closing. “I can’t get a break,” she sighed.
“Now what did I do?”
She didn’t bother facing the Lightning. What was the point?
“Nothing.” She started to walk across the ridge of the summit, but the Lightning cut in front of her.
“What if I bought you a long sword?”
“What?” What was he babbling about? Gods! She only wanted a bath!
“A long sword. To replace your spear.”
“I don’t need you to buy me anything. Especial y weapons.” She took a step, but he stepped with her.
“I can teach you to use it if that’s your concern.”
Rhona’s front claws curled into fists. “I don’t need you to teach me how to use a sword.”
“You shouldn’t use one unless you know how.”
“I know how.”
“Then why were you stil using a spear?”
“Because I like them. Because my father made it for me. And why am I discussing this with you? ” She took another step and he stepped with her.
“What about an ax?” he asked. “A smal one. With a weight you can handle.”
And that’s when Rhona became a little cranky.
Gods, she was such a pretty little She-dragon. A bit scarred for his usual tastes but stil . . . very pretty. He’d thought so from the beginning, from the first time he’d seen her al those years ago. A brown-scaled She-dragon with shoulder-length brown hair that she kept in simple warrior braids, and dark brown eyes that were bright and lively—when they weren’t glaring at him. Something that had become rare these days. She seemed to always be glaring at him. He could only imagine it was the strain of the war on her. She was a Southlander and a female, after al . Northlanders knew nothing but war, so five years in battle was no real strain for them.
Although she wasn’t just some Southland She-dragon, was she? She was a Cadwaladr. They bred nothing but unstable females from that bloodline. But Rhona wasn’t much like the others. She’d kil , but it didn’t seem as if she enjoyed it too much. Not like Rhona’s mother, who only smiled when she was sawing someone’s head off. No. Rhona the Fearless was different, so Vigholf had taken it upon himself to keep an eye on her. A sweet thing like her could easily fal prey to the more forceful of his brethren, which was why he’d warned them off. Strongly. And it’s not like he fol owed her around or anything. Just . . . watched out for her.
Although it seemed sometimes that the biggest problem in Rhona’s life was that mother of hers.
Vigholf nearly shuddered at the thought of that particular female—if you could cal her that. Yet she had mostly pleasant offspring. Rhona, the triplets, and a few of her other daughters and sons. Then again, Vigholf had heard that Rhona had raised the lot of them, which explained much in his estimation.
“I don’t need an ax,” Rhona snarled between clenched teeth.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of. They’re easy enough weapons to handle.”
“I know how to handle an ax, foreigner. I don’t need lessons from you. Why don’t you just accept the fact that you destroyed a beloved weapon because you have so little control of that warhammer of yours.”
“I have absolute control of my hammer, thank you very much. But once it’s moving, it’s not always easy to stop, my lady.” He grinned, feeling cheeky. “I can say that about al my hammers, in fact.”
“First off, ew. And second, I ain’t a lady. I’m a Cadwaladr and a sergeant of Her Majesty’s Army. You want to deal with a royal, go see my cousin Keita. She couldn’t be more royal.”
She stepped around him and he turned to fol ow, but her tail suddenly lashed out, aiming for his eye. Vigholf stumbled back and Rhona, glaring over her shoulder at him, snapped, “And stop fol owing me around.”
“I wasn’t. Just . . . keeping an eye on you. These caves can be dangerous.”
Rhona chuckled. “Good point.”
“You going for a bath?” her sister whispered.
“Trying to.”
“Take that exit.” She pointed at a narrow tunnel cut through the cave rock. “You’l have to go outside for a bit, but you’l avoid Mum.”
“Thanks, luv.”
Rhona slipped away without being noticed and eased through the narrow tunnel until she found herself on the mountain’s summit. She stopped, gazing out over Euphrasia Val ey. A stretch of land caught in the middle of the Northland territories, the Western Mountains, and the Southlands. A rough and dangerous val ey with thick, almost junglelike forests during the summer and brutal y cold winds and ice storms during the winter. It was surrounded by a ring of mountains in varying sizes. They’d made the Hesiod Mountains their stronghold while the Irons were directly opposite from them using the Polycarp Mountains as their protection. Could be worse, though. At least they had access to fresh water and supplies.
“Nice, yeah?”
Rhona’s shoulders slumped, her eyes closing. “I can’t get a break,” she sighed.
“Now what did I do?”
She didn’t bother facing the Lightning. What was the point?
“Nothing.” She started to walk across the ridge of the summit, but the Lightning cut in front of her.
“What if I bought you a long sword?”
“What?” What was he babbling about? Gods! She only wanted a bath!
“A long sword. To replace your spear.”
“I don’t need you to buy me anything. Especial y weapons.” She took a step, but he stepped with her.
“I can teach you to use it if that’s your concern.”
Rhona’s front claws curled into fists. “I don’t need you to teach me how to use a sword.”
“You shouldn’t use one unless you know how.”
“I know how.”
“Then why were you stil using a spear?”
“Because I like them. Because my father made it for me. And why am I discussing this with you? ” She took another step and he stepped with her.
“What about an ax?” he asked. “A smal one. With a weight you can handle.”
And that’s when Rhona became a little cranky.
Gods, she was such a pretty little She-dragon. A bit scarred for his usual tastes but stil . . . very pretty. He’d thought so from the beginning, from the first time he’d seen her al those years ago. A brown-scaled She-dragon with shoulder-length brown hair that she kept in simple warrior braids, and dark brown eyes that were bright and lively—when they weren’t glaring at him. Something that had become rare these days. She seemed to always be glaring at him. He could only imagine it was the strain of the war on her. She was a Southlander and a female, after al . Northlanders knew nothing but war, so five years in battle was no real strain for them.
Although she wasn’t just some Southland She-dragon, was she? She was a Cadwaladr. They bred nothing but unstable females from that bloodline. But Rhona wasn’t much like the others. She’d kil , but it didn’t seem as if she enjoyed it too much. Not like Rhona’s mother, who only smiled when she was sawing someone’s head off. No. Rhona the Fearless was different, so Vigholf had taken it upon himself to keep an eye on her. A sweet thing like her could easily fal prey to the more forceful of his brethren, which was why he’d warned them off. Strongly. And it’s not like he fol owed her around or anything. Just . . . watched out for her.
Although it seemed sometimes that the biggest problem in Rhona’s life was that mother of hers.
Vigholf nearly shuddered at the thought of that particular female—if you could cal her that. Yet she had mostly pleasant offspring. Rhona, the triplets, and a few of her other daughters and sons. Then again, Vigholf had heard that Rhona had raised the lot of them, which explained much in his estimation.
“I don’t need an ax,” Rhona snarled between clenched teeth.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of. They’re easy enough weapons to handle.”
“I know how to handle an ax, foreigner. I don’t need lessons from you. Why don’t you just accept the fact that you destroyed a beloved weapon because you have so little control of that warhammer of yours.”
“I have absolute control of my hammer, thank you very much. But once it’s moving, it’s not always easy to stop, my lady.” He grinned, feeling cheeky. “I can say that about al my hammers, in fact.”
“First off, ew. And second, I ain’t a lady. I’m a Cadwaladr and a sergeant of Her Majesty’s Army. You want to deal with a royal, go see my cousin Keita. She couldn’t be more royal.”
She stepped around him and he turned to fol ow, but her tail suddenly lashed out, aiming for his eye. Vigholf stumbled back and Rhona, glaring over her shoulder at him, snapped, “And stop fol owing me around.”
“I wasn’t. Just . . . keeping an eye on you. These caves can be dangerous.”
