The Dragon Who Loved Me (12 page)

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Authors: G.A. Aiken

BOOK: The Dragon Who Loved Me
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“I’m not destroying a tree so you can have a view of the sky. You’ll have to imagine what it looks like.”
“Such care about foliage.”
“We don’t have much in the way of lush trees and plants in the Northlands. So the ones strong enough to survive, we take care of.”
Vigholf stretched out next to her, lying on his side and propping his head up with his hand.
“So you must be glad the fighting moved to Euphrasia,” she said.
“I am. Especially the way you Fire Breathers just blast everything in your way.” He smiled. “We have much more finesse with our lightning than you have with your flame.”
“Yeah. Right,” she laughed. “Finesse.” Rhona looked at him. “You don’t have to stay out here if you don’t want. I’ll be safe. My kin’s right there.” She pointed in front of her, then off to the side. Then she sort of flitted her hand about. “They’re around.”
“You act like I have somewhere to go. Besides, I want to stay here. Keep you company.” When she frowned a bit, he added, “I like you. You and your little spear . . . cute.”
She gazed at him for a long time before she asked, “Do you actually
like
me, or is any unattached female worth your time? You Northlanders do seem a bit hard up and I do have a pussy available. And it’s been pretty unused lately.”
It took a lot for him not to laugh. Mostly because he
knew
she’d regret all this come first light. And they had at least two and a half days of travel together back to Euphrasia during which he could absolutely torture her over it.
It was wrong, wasn’t it? That he couldn’t wait for the torturing.
Yeah. It was wrong.
 
 
The Lightning glanced off for a moment, probably trying to come up with some appropriate and smoothworded lie. Males were all alike, weren’t they? They’d say or do anything to find a warm hole for the night. Worthless. The lot of ’em. Bloody worthless.
Thankfully, Rhona wasn’t like her cousins and most of her sisters. She didn’t have what they all termed “needs.” She could—and often did—go ages without a lover. Unlike Delen, the slut, who became right cranky when she’d gone for more than a few months without a cock, Rhona found better uses for any additional energy she may have stored up. She prided herself on that. So the dragon could just get that bloody look off his face.
“What look?”
“What?”
“You told me to get that bloody look off my face.”
“Oh. Yeah.” At least she hadn’t said anything else out loud.
“That was after you mentioned you can go long periods of time without a bit of cock unlike your slutty sister Delen. Although I’ve never thought of her as slutty. Maybe a bit forceful—”
She slapped her hand over his face.
“Ow.”
“If you even
think
of repeating anything I’ve drunkenly said here tonight—”
He pulled her hand away. “Not a word. Promise.”
“I think I’m going to sleep before I say anything else about my sisters that they’d cut out my tongue for.”
“All right.”
“And we leave tomorrow, head back to the Valley, end this war, get all the glory we can stomach, and never see each other ever again. That’s a plan we can both live with, right?”
“Possibly.”
“And I’m sure I’m only saying this because of that last ale I had, but your human form . . . quite attractive.”
“Thank you.”
She lifted her hand, fingers sliding across his chin. “The scar on your jaw is a very nice touch.”
Vigholf’s eyes closed, he let out a breath. “You’re killing me, Sergeant.”
“Well, it’s not like I haven’t tried before. If it’ll make you feel better . . . I have scars, too.” She started to lift her shirt. “Want to see?”
He caught her hands, held them. “Another time.”
“That’s right. You lot don’t like scars on females.”
“That’s not the problem at all.”
“So it’s just my naked human body you find hideous.”
“I have no problem with your hideous human body.” He scowled, but she didn’t think it was directed at her. “That’s not what I meant to say.”
“That’s all right. Among my mum’s offspring, the triplets are the ones considered pretty.”
“Then no one’s looked at you at all.”
“You’re only saying that because you’re a desperate Northlander that’s forced to steal She-dragons and mutilate them so they’ll never leave you. You’d think anything with a pussy was pretty.”
The scowl this time . . . for her. “First off, we don’t do that anymore. Second, not all Northland males did it in the first place. And third, I have no idea how pretty your pussy is, but I do like your face.”
Rhona reached up, patted his cheek. “You’re sweet.” She closed her eyes. “And I’m tired. Can we have sex another time?”
“Were we planning to have sex?”
“I was. But I’m too tired. So another day, yes?”
“All right.” The Northlander lay down and snuggled in close, his nose tickling her ear. “Another day of lots of sex,” he murmured, his breath warm against her neck.
“I didn’t say anything about lots.”
“No. You didn’t.” And she could feel him smile. “But I did.”
 
 
Junius Bato Toranius of the House of Toranius knew he was one of the most powerful dragons in the Quintilian Sovereigns. Only Overlord Thracius held higher rank. But when it came to actual power . . . well, that was one area the good Overlord never tested Junius on.
Yet, as with all things, there was a price to pay for his power, for his skill as a mage. It wasn’t too high a price, though. Junius merely had to ensure that all Irons worshipped one, and only one, god. And that as the power of the Irons spread throughout the world, this worship of one god would spread along with it.
Not easy. Some were quite attached to their multiple gods. But the Quintilians knew many ways to get and keep the loyalty of those whose countries they invaded and eventually conquered.
The lands to the east of the Provinces would be no different.
Junius stood alone in the dry riverbed and waited. Like his father before him, he was very good at waiting, patience being important for any mage.
The hard earth in front of him stirred and cracked and the one god pushed his way up and through.
Chramnesind. The Sightless One. A name he’d received because he had no eyes, for Chramnesind saw well enough without them. In fact, he could see everything.
“My god,” Junius said softly. “You summoned me.”
“I did, Junius Toranius. Good fortune has shined upon you.” He smiled. “And my true reign is about to begin. . . .”
Chapter 11
 
A fist slammed into his chest twice, but he wasn’t surprised to open his eyes and find a scowling Rhona staring down at him. He’d had a feeling she’d be dealing with some remorse this morning, and he’d be facing her wrath. But he’d been more than willing to risk all that because he really liked Rhona. A lot. And he was willing to risk a little Fire Breather rage if it meant getting closer to her.
“I know you’re mad, but—”
She held her finger to her lips, silencing him. Then with the same finger, she pointed to a spot in front of them.
Vigholf raised his head, blinking hard.
There was an early morning mist over everything, the suns just peeking over the low hills in the distance, and yet Vigholf could see her. She stood there. Alone. Watching them. One hand gripping a stuffed toy dog, the tips of her fingers from the other hand stuffed in her mouth. Curly silver hair surrounded full cheeks and stark violet eyes stared at them.
Vigholf sat up, looked around. There were no Kyvich. None of Rhona’s kin. No nanny. No one was watching a girl who was never alone. How had she gotten out here on her own . . . ?
“Hello, darling girl,” he said softly, resting his arm on his raised knee. “You all right?”
“They’re here,” the girl whispered.
“Who’s here?” Rhona asked, keeping her voice equally soft, unchallenging.
“She sent them. From the west. They’re here.”
“We better get her inside,” Vigholf said, getting to his feet, but the girl stepped back.
“It’s too late for us. We’re in it. But not for her. Not for
them
. They still have a chance. But someone has to help them before it’s too late.”
“Do you have
any
idea what or who she’s talking about?”
“Not at all,” Rhona admitted. “But that doesn’t matter right now.” Rhona walked toward her. “We need to get her inside before—” The sudden call from the Kyvich cut off the rest of Rhona’s words.
“Damn.” Knowing how the Kyvich could easily overreact to Rhian being outside the castle walls without the usual protection, Vigholf quickly picked the girl up.
There was another call from the Kyvich and, scowling, he locked gazes with Rhona. They both knew a warning call when they heard it and he was sensing it had little to do with them and the girl.
“Let’s move,” he ordered while running, knowing Rhona would follow.
But Rhona called out, “Vigholf!”
He stopped. Looked at the girl in his arms. “They’re here,” she said again, her expression much older than her six winters in this world would suggest.
Realizing what she meant, Vigholf dove behind a cart, Rhona landing right by his side mere seconds before everything went dark from the onslaught of arrows.
 
 
“We need to get her inside,” Rhona said once the arrows stopped.
“I know. But we have a bigger issue than getting her inside.”
“What?” Rhona demanded.
“Catching them before they clear the fence.”
With small swords in hand, the twins charged past them, shooting around the gate.
“Piss and fire!” Rhona snarled, scrambling to her feet and running after them. “Get Rhian inside!” she yelled to Vigholf.
Despite their size the twins were fast. Yet she thankfully had longer legs. She neared them, her arms almost around them when horses charged their way, the riders aiming their bows at them, arrows nocked.
Rhona shifted, gripping her weapon in her claw and immediately lifting herself up so she didn’t crush the children in the process. But before she could release her flame or use her spear to stop the riders, Talan dropped to his knees but continued sliding forward. Using his sword, he cut the tendon of the first horse he passed. The horse screamed, his damaged leg buckling, his rider flipping off. The rider’s neck snapped on impact and Talwyn ran up and onto his bent body. She used the momentum of her run and the extra height from the corpse to launch herself at another rider. The blade of her sword slammed high into the rider’s leg, the rider screaming as she used both hands to yank the blade down his calf.
Not knowing what else to do, Rhona caught hold of both children and took to the skies. The girl yelled and punched at her claw, trying to get loose while her brother did nothing but patiently wait until Rhona landed in the courtyard. Of course that’s when he slammed his sword into a spot between her talons.
“Aaargh! You vicious little—”
“Talwyn! Talan!” Talaith tore down the courtyard steps, her beautiful face streaked with tears. “Where is she?” the witch demanded. “Where’s Rhian?”
“Here.” Vigholf landed beside Rhona, carefully handing over the child to her mother. “She saved our lives, my lady. Thank you.”
Talaith nodded, holding Rhian tight to her. “Don’t you ever do that again,” she told her daughter. “Never sneak out again.” Fierce brown eyes locked on the twins. “And you two . . . get your asses in that castle.
Now!
”
The twins charged up the stairs and came face-to-face with their livid nanny. She picked them up and went back inside.
“Go, Talaith,” Rhona ordered the witch. “We’ll take it from here.”
With a brief glance at Vigholf, they both flew up and landed on the castle gates.
“It seems your cousin was right,” the Lightning admitted, gazing down at the number of Tribesmen riders charging and surrounding the castle gates.
Rhona, her new spear clenched in her claw, nodded. “She was.”
The Kyvich rode out of the gates on their horned steeds, their bloodthirsty dogs by their sides. The first sound of clashing weapons rang out.
Smiling a little, Rhona asked Vigholf, “Still mind having a female fighting by your side, Northlander?”
“Not when it’s you, Southlander.” He grinned at her. “Not when it’s you.”
 
 
Dagmar sent the commanding castle guards out to their troops with the warning, “Whatever you do, don’t get in the way of the Kyvich.”
She headed back into the castle, her faithful dog Canute by her side and the stray puppy she’d recently found right behind Canute. Running soldiers moved out of her way as she quickly came down the hallway, stopping when she reached the Great Hall. Several of the Kyvich surrounded Talaith and Ebba, escorting them to a safe place that had been built beneath the castle walls. Dagmar didn’t try to stop them, but was glad to see they were all right.
Thinking of nothing more than getting as many as possible through this alive, Dagmar coldly examined everything. And that’s when she saw the Dragon Queen walk down the stairs and out the Great Hall doors. Dagmar hadn’t even realized the queen had stayed last night. The discussion over what should be done about Annwyl’s disappearance had lasted late into the evening, but usually the queen would return to her Devenallt Mountain home at any hour. Yet she didn’t last night. She’d stayed.
Normally Dagmar wouldn’t worry about it, but she couldn’t ignore it this time. So Dagmar followed Rhiannon.
 
 
Rhona swooped down on the advancing troops, unleashing a line of flame while she dodged arrows, axes, and more spears. As always when she flew into battle, Rhona was more pissed off at being attacked than she was afraid. It gave her an edge she normally didn’t have in her day-today life.
She picked up horses and their riders and threw them into their own troops. Lashed her tail from side to side, sending the Tribesmen behind her flying and flipping through the air and across the ground. While her tail handled what was behind her, she used her spear to decimate what was in front. Tribesmen rode at her from all sides, using only their knees to stay seated while their hands were busy inundating her with arrows. Many struck home, imbedding past scales, but she ignored the pain as she always had, as she’d always been taught, and kept up her onslaught.
But she wasn’t alone. She had her kin striking from the air, sending down wave after wave of flame, burning human flesh from bone. The Lightning nearby battered and crushed and hacked with that hammer and ax of his. And the infamous Kyvich unleashed something. She thought they were those unholy horned dogs of theirs. They weren’t. They were men. Or what were once men, but were now no more than slavering beasts, broken by the heartless females they’d once challenged.
Younger witches clad—barely—in animal skins and bits and pieces of armor ran out to meet their enemy, combining weaponry and Magick to create a nightmarish whirl of blood and death. Tribesmen torn apart by nothing more than air, skin peeled from flesh by trees come alive. Some Tribesmen dragged underground, screaming all the way, by hands appearing from the earth beneath their feet.
Not willing to watch any more of that, Rhona focused on the enemies closer to the forests.
 
 
Rhiannon made her way to the top of the battlements, watching as her warriors and the human witches fought the Tribesmen. For human barbarians, the Tribesmen were dangerous foes, used to fighting not just Annwyl’s armies but Rhiannon’s dragon army as well.
“You shouldn’t be up here.”
Rhiannon glanced at Dagmar. “Neither should you, Battle Lord. You should be with the others.”
“These battlements are mine until Annwyl returns. I’ll not hide like I’m one of the children.”
“Such a Northlander,” Rhiannon murmured.
“Maybe we should have listened to Keita and sent the children to the Eastlands with Ren,” Dagmar told her, watching Ren join the fight in his wingless golden dragon form. She’d never noticed he had paws before—and antlers.
“If we ship them away every time there’s a problem, they’ll be raised by strangers all their lives.” The queen watched the Kyvich cut down man after man, while their dogs and horses ate the remains. “They stay here.”
“What about Annwyl? Who will we send out to find her?”
“That’s a bigger issue. Especially now. The Tribesmen won’t back off simply because the Kyvich’s pets have eaten a few of their friends.”
“So what do you suggest?”
Rhiannon leaned against the railing, watching the battle raging beneath.
“Normally I’d send out one of my Dragonwarriors to find her.”
“Can we afford to lose one of them now?”
“Can we afford to lose Annwyl?”
“We both know that if Annwyl left her army it was for a damn good reason.”
Rhiannon nodded. “I know that. She headed deeper into the west, Battle Lord. And there’s only one thing in that direction.”
“The Provinces.” The heart and home of the Irons. And getting into the Provinces was one thing. Getting out . . .
“This could very likely be a one-way trip for whoever we send.” Rhiannon shook her head. “But it can’t be avoided. We need to send someone to find Annwyl and bring her, Izzy, and Branwen back to their troops. So any suggestions, Battle Lord?”
Dagmar stepped closer to the rail. “One of your Dragonwarriors, yes?”
“They are my strongest and mightiest.”
“But they can also be unpredictable.”
Rhiannon smiled. The Northland woman her son had chosen as his mate was a quick learner.
“Exactly. They do what they
think
is right. If that means leaving Annwyl to die while they rescue lost urchins . . .”
“So then what?”
Rhiannon studied the battlefield. Of all who fought, there was one who stuck out to her eyes. “Which one is that?”
Dagmar adjusted her spectacles and squinted. “The Brown? Your niece. Rhona.”
That name sounded familiar. “Rhona? Rhona?”
Oh, yes!
“Bradana’s eldest. She babysat for me once when Keita was still a hatchling.”
“How did that go?”
“She recovered from the poisoning quite well and her hair grew back, but her mother wouldn’t let her babysit for us again, after that.” Rhiannon pointed at her niece. “What is she now? A captain? Or a general?”

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