The Dragon Who Loved Me
Page 70
But it did feel like they were alone.
At least it did until they reached the smal est caverns they’d found yet since they’d been in these caves. They weren’t tiny by any means, but they didn’t give him much room either. Instantly Vigholf thought of the wyvern. And because he was already so tense and ready for anything to come slithering along, Vigholf caught the wood spear that came shooting out of the darkness seconds before it tore through Rhona’s head.
Blinking her eyes wide, she gave him a quick nod. “Thanks.”
“I owed you one anyway.” He turned the large spear in his claws until it faced the other way. “You ready?” he asked.
“Aye. I’m ready.”
Needing to hear nothing else, Vigholf sped forward into a wide cavern, the spear gripped tight by his talons. Rhona stayed to the right of him, her own spear in one claw, her shield in the other.
He pul ed his forearm back, the spear high, and was seconds from pitching the weapon when Annwyl yel ed, “Hold! ” It was a command Vigholf and Rhona had been conditioned to respond to and they did so immediately, both of them using their wings to pul them back in midflight.
Annwyl walked forward, both swords in her hands. Izzy held a torch. It didn’t do much for lighting her queen’s way, but Annwyl stil kept going.
Then Vigholf heard it. He’d heard it in battle so many times, he sometimes heard it in his sleep. The sound of a Fire Breather taking in a big gulp of air.
“Annwyl! ” he bel owed. Yet the queen did nothing but shove her niece aside seconds before flames burst from the opposite dark cavern and covered the human female. Roaring with rage, Vigholf jerked forward, but Rhona grabbed his forearm, held him back.
“What are you doing? ” he demanded.
“Look.”
“Why would I want to see—”
“Just look.”
He did—and he saw Annwyl. Not a burned-to-a-crisp Annwyl, but a perfectly untouched Annwyl. Even her clothes were fine. But Vigholf didn’t understand. That burst of flame could have wiped out an entire human battalion.
“The Dragon Queen,” Rhona murmured. “I’d heard she’d blessed Annwyl with this gift, but I’ve never seen it in action before. A dragon’s flame can never hurt her now.”
Annwyl shook her hair back and said, “Ready to talk? Or are we going to keep playing these games, Rebel King?” And, from that dark cavern, the Rebel King stepped out. He was younger than Vigholf thought he would be. Much younger. Not even two hundred winters, Vigholf would guess. His scales the color of steel, his size that of any big Northlander dragon, his white horns curving around until the tips nearly touched his mouth. Long, steel-colored hair nearly reached the floor, different from the way most Irons wore it, and an eye patch covered the hole where his right eye should be. A scar that stretched from his forehead to where his snout began tel ing the tale of that loss. And the King wasn’t alone—a platoon of wel -armed humans and dragons stood behind him, ready to defend him to their death.
“The Mad Bitch of Garbhán Isle,” the Rebel King growled. “Come to die?”
“No. But you won’t be the first one to try. To succeed even.” She grinned and even in the pale light of the torch Izzy stil held as she returned to Annwyl’s side, they could al see the cocky and crazed smile of the royal. “But I’l only come back anyway. . . .” Rhona dropped to the ground behind Annwyl, and Vigholf behind Branwen and Iseabail. The Rebel King studied their smal party. “Three dragons and a human girl? That’s al you bring to fight me?”
“I’m not here to fight you. I’m here to secure your assistance.”
“I know of your war, Southlander. I know your mate fights Thracius in Euphrasia and you fight Laudaricus in the Western Mountains.”
“You know of it, but you do nothing to help either of us. To end this war and take Thracius’s rule. But if you help me, you can be emperor of the Provinces. Or king. Or whatever you cal yourself.”
“That does sound nice, doesn’t it? Tragical y, though, not something I can do at the moment. But because I’m feeling benevolent, I’l al ow you and your friends to leave alive. Now go.”
Rhona felt a brief moment of elation, but it was quickly squashed when Annwyl re-sheathed her swords and fol owed the Rebel King into the dark cavern he’d just come out of. She pushed past his human and dragon soldiers, ignoring them al in her pursuit.
“Shit,” Vigholf muttered, watching Iseabail and Brannie fol ow right after their queen.
Sure, they could walk away. But they wouldn’t. It wasn’t in their nature. Their stupid, stupid nature. So they fol owed after the mad queen and the evil king.
“You can’t just walk away from this,” Annwyl told the dragon’s back.
“I can, human. And I am.”
“Why? Are you afraid of Thracius? Is that it? Are you weak?”
King Gaius’s tail slammed down right where Annwyl was standing. Thankful y, she was spry, managing to jump out of the way before it landed.
“I find you irritating, human. You don’t want to irritate me.”
“Why? What wil you do? You won’t even fight your uncle. Because you’re weak.”
“You grab Izzy and Branwen,” Vigholf whispered. “I’l grab the nut.”
The Rebel King spun around, Iseabail and Brannie ducking his long, spiked tail.
“Do you real y think you can play this game with me, Queen?”
At least it did until they reached the smal est caverns they’d found yet since they’d been in these caves. They weren’t tiny by any means, but they didn’t give him much room either. Instantly Vigholf thought of the wyvern. And because he was already so tense and ready for anything to come slithering along, Vigholf caught the wood spear that came shooting out of the darkness seconds before it tore through Rhona’s head.
Blinking her eyes wide, she gave him a quick nod. “Thanks.”
“I owed you one anyway.” He turned the large spear in his claws until it faced the other way. “You ready?” he asked.
“Aye. I’m ready.”
Needing to hear nothing else, Vigholf sped forward into a wide cavern, the spear gripped tight by his talons. Rhona stayed to the right of him, her own spear in one claw, her shield in the other.
He pul ed his forearm back, the spear high, and was seconds from pitching the weapon when Annwyl yel ed, “Hold! ” It was a command Vigholf and Rhona had been conditioned to respond to and they did so immediately, both of them using their wings to pul them back in midflight.
Annwyl walked forward, both swords in her hands. Izzy held a torch. It didn’t do much for lighting her queen’s way, but Annwyl stil kept going.
Then Vigholf heard it. He’d heard it in battle so many times, he sometimes heard it in his sleep. The sound of a Fire Breather taking in a big gulp of air.
“Annwyl! ” he bel owed. Yet the queen did nothing but shove her niece aside seconds before flames burst from the opposite dark cavern and covered the human female. Roaring with rage, Vigholf jerked forward, but Rhona grabbed his forearm, held him back.
“What are you doing? ” he demanded.
“Look.”
“Why would I want to see—”
“Just look.”
He did—and he saw Annwyl. Not a burned-to-a-crisp Annwyl, but a perfectly untouched Annwyl. Even her clothes were fine. But Vigholf didn’t understand. That burst of flame could have wiped out an entire human battalion.
“The Dragon Queen,” Rhona murmured. “I’d heard she’d blessed Annwyl with this gift, but I’ve never seen it in action before. A dragon’s flame can never hurt her now.”
Annwyl shook her hair back and said, “Ready to talk? Or are we going to keep playing these games, Rebel King?” And, from that dark cavern, the Rebel King stepped out. He was younger than Vigholf thought he would be. Much younger. Not even two hundred winters, Vigholf would guess. His scales the color of steel, his size that of any big Northlander dragon, his white horns curving around until the tips nearly touched his mouth. Long, steel-colored hair nearly reached the floor, different from the way most Irons wore it, and an eye patch covered the hole where his right eye should be. A scar that stretched from his forehead to where his snout began tel ing the tale of that loss. And the King wasn’t alone—a platoon of wel -armed humans and dragons stood behind him, ready to defend him to their death.
“The Mad Bitch of Garbhán Isle,” the Rebel King growled. “Come to die?”
“No. But you won’t be the first one to try. To succeed even.” She grinned and even in the pale light of the torch Izzy stil held as she returned to Annwyl’s side, they could al see the cocky and crazed smile of the royal. “But I’l only come back anyway. . . .” Rhona dropped to the ground behind Annwyl, and Vigholf behind Branwen and Iseabail. The Rebel King studied their smal party. “Three dragons and a human girl? That’s al you bring to fight me?”
“I’m not here to fight you. I’m here to secure your assistance.”
“I know of your war, Southlander. I know your mate fights Thracius in Euphrasia and you fight Laudaricus in the Western Mountains.”
“You know of it, but you do nothing to help either of us. To end this war and take Thracius’s rule. But if you help me, you can be emperor of the Provinces. Or king. Or whatever you cal yourself.”
“That does sound nice, doesn’t it? Tragical y, though, not something I can do at the moment. But because I’m feeling benevolent, I’l al ow you and your friends to leave alive. Now go.”
Rhona felt a brief moment of elation, but it was quickly squashed when Annwyl re-sheathed her swords and fol owed the Rebel King into the dark cavern he’d just come out of. She pushed past his human and dragon soldiers, ignoring them al in her pursuit.
“Shit,” Vigholf muttered, watching Iseabail and Brannie fol ow right after their queen.
Sure, they could walk away. But they wouldn’t. It wasn’t in their nature. Their stupid, stupid nature. So they fol owed after the mad queen and the evil king.
“You can’t just walk away from this,” Annwyl told the dragon’s back.
“I can, human. And I am.”
“Why? Are you afraid of Thracius? Is that it? Are you weak?”
King Gaius’s tail slammed down right where Annwyl was standing. Thankful y, she was spry, managing to jump out of the way before it landed.
“I find you irritating, human. You don’t want to irritate me.”
“Why? What wil you do? You won’t even fight your uncle. Because you’re weak.”
“You grab Izzy and Branwen,” Vigholf whispered. “I’l grab the nut.”
The Rebel King spun around, Iseabail and Brannie ducking his long, spiked tail.
“Do you real y think you can play this game with me, Queen?”
