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Authors: G.A. Aiken

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BOOK: The Dragon Who Loved Me
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Yet Aggie quickly realized that the woman walking toward them this time wasn’t a hallucination because everyone else was staring at her, too.
She was brown of skin, like one of Aggie’s rescuers and like the humans of the Desert Lands. She was dressed like a warrior and wounded like one, too. Wounded like a dead warrior, though.
“Annwyl the Bloody,” the woman said to the human queen.
Annwyl pointed at the woman’s stomach. “Did you realize that someone disemboweled you?”
“That’ll heal,” she said, walking around Annwyl. “My traveling companion says you need to get somewhere quickly. I can help with that.”
A god. This woman was a god. They were chatting with a god. Things certainly had become interesting since Aggie had been rescued from her incarceration.
“Could you at least tuck your organs away?” Annwyl complained.
“You kill things all day.”
“But I don’t stand around talking to them afterward, their guts pouring out while I do.”
“So sensitive.”
Annwyl rubbed her eyes. “I’m tired. I’m very tired.” Now that battling the city guards was over, the Southland queen did look tired. Exhausted. Aggie knew that kind of exhaustion.
“Yes. I see that.” The god studied Annwyl. “Too tired for this?”
Annwyl brought her fists down. “I will end this. But I can’t do it from here. Send me or piss off. I’m tired of talking. Or send the wolf to deal with me. I like the wolf. He doesn’t bore me with talk.”
The god crossed her arms over her chest, leaving that gaping wound even more exposed. “I saved your life once. You could be a little more respectful.”
“You saved my life after your mate took it. And that was after he used
my
mate to knock me up without our permission. So don’t look to me for respect. I’m tired of you. I’m tired of him. I just want this over with. So send us or don’t—but just. Stop.
Talking.
”
While the god and Southlander glared at each other, Aggie looked to her brother. “
This
is who you sent to rescue me?”
A lunatic who argues with gods?
she finished in his mind.
“I’d run out of ideas, all right?” He shrugged helplessly. “Cut me some slack.”
“You think you can win against Thracius?” the god asked.
“I think I’m willing to kill anything in my way.” The human queen tipped her head to the side. “Are
you
in my way?”
“Perhaps. So let me move out of your way.” And with a flick of the god’s wrist—Annwyl the Bloody was gone.
 
 
They were evacuating the tunnel, nearly out the exit, when it started again. The arguing. Always with the bloody arguing. And, as she’d been doing since Rhona left, Nesta’s sister Edana got between the two idiots along with poor Austell. The arguing this time, though, was more vicious, more physical. Like it was before Rhona threatened both Éibhear and Celyn. Maybe they knew the war was almost over. Knew they wouldn’t have much more time to fight because
all
of them would insist the pair was separated. For their own good and the good of others.
Éibhear caught hold of Celyn by his breastplate, yanking him close, and slamming his fist into the dragon’s face. Nesta looked at Breena and her sister could only roll her eyes and shake her head.
Austell, clearly fed up with all of them, pushed himself between the pair, slamming his claws against their chests.
It was what had been happening a lot. There was only one difference this time—the human who suddenly appeared in the middle of all this. And Nesta didn’t mean Izzy and the proverbial wedge she’d shoved between the cousins. But an actual, living, breathing human.
Nesta and Breena looked at each other and then back at the human. They leaned in a little closer.
“Annwyl?” Breena asked.
The human queen looked around, snarled as only Annwyl could, and roared, “
That bitch!
”
 
 
They pushed the Irons back again, but Briec stopped. Looked around. Something wasn’t right. A trap? He turned in a circle, using his tail to bat off any Irons who got too close.
He expected some attack to come at them from either flank, but there was nothing. But still, the Irons were being pushed back too easily. Perhaps another attack with their siege weapons?
“Hold!” he called out to his troops. Then, to his brothers, “Fearghus! Gwenvael!” He motioned to them with his shield. “Pull back. Now!”
Fearghus responded immediately, but Gwenvael was impatient. “Why?” he demanded. “We’ve got them.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Fearghus snapped. “They’re pulling us away from here.”
“But—”
“Do you want to take a little longer to return to your mate, or do you want to go back to her without important parts of you intact?”
Gwenvael didn’t even have to think on that. He began moving back, calling his troops with him.
And, instead of retreating, the Irons again moved forward. They attacked again. But what they were trying to lure them from, Briec really didn’t know.
 
 
“
No!
” Izzy bellowed, jumping forward to where Annwyl had been.
Rhona caught her, held the girl in her arms while they all gawked at the spot the human queen once stood in.
“Bring her back.” Izzy pulled away from Rhona and faced the goddess.
“You think you can order me to—”
“Bring her
back
!”
“So much emotion,” the god chastised. “I see why I like dealing with Dagmar more.”
And then the god was gone.
“
No!
” Izzy screamed again.
“You have to go after her,” Lady Agrippina ordered her brother. “There’s no arguing over this.”
“It’ll take us days to get to Euphrasia. By then . . .” King Gaius shook his head, glanced over at Izzy, whose roar of pain was so gut-wrenching that no one could look at her for long.
“Rhona,” Vigholf said in a low voice. He jerked his head and Rhona looked in front of them. It was a wolf. A wolf just sitting there. An enormous, freakishly sized wolf, but a wolf nonetheless.
Vigholf shrugged. “A wolf licked her head and made her feel better. He’s a wolf.”
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 and 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.”
BOOK: The Dragon Who Loved Me
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