The Dragon Who Loved Me (23 page)

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Authors: G.A. Aiken

BOOK: The Dragon Who Loved Me
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Once Annwyl reached Rhona, she tossed her swords at her. Rhona jumped a little but managed to catch the weapons just the same.
“So,” Annwyl said as she grabbed her nose between both hands, “are you two coming with us?”
“We’re here to fetch you,” Vigholf told her. “Your armies are moving through the Eastern Pass toward Euphrasia Valley. It’ll soon begin, Annwyl.”
“It’s already begun. The Irons attacked last night. Siege weapons.”
“What?” Vigholf asked. “How do you know this?”
With a good
snap
Annwyl put her broken nose back into place and retrieved her weapons from Rhona. “We don’t have much time. Come with us or go back. Your choice. But I’m not stopping until I see Gaius Domitus.”
“You’ll never get to him,” Rhona told her. “They already know you’re here. Vateria sent out a search party for you. A raping, pillaging search party that’s destroyed villages while they look for you.”
“You’re blaming me? For that?”
Not really, but still . . . “Annwyl, everything’s changed. If the battle for Euphrasia has begun, you must go back.”
“If I go back now, we all die or become slaves to that tyrant.” She finished tying her swords to her back and patted Rhona on the shoulder. Rhona took it as a source of pride that she managed not to flinch or jump away from that pat.
Years of training, that is. Years of training.
“I’ll not think less of you if you return to your comrades in the Valley. But I’m going to finish this . . . with or without you.”
Annwyl stepped between them and began to walk off. That’s when Vigholf said, “The Western Tribesmen are attacking Garbhán Isle, Annwyl. Where your children are.”
The queen stopped in her tracks, her body one rigid line of tense muscle. But she took several breaths and said, “With or without you, I’m going.”
To Rhona’s shock, the queen headed off into the forests, heading farther into the west. Rhona never thought Annwyl would leave her children to the whim of fate with Tribesmen at her door. But she was leaving them and, without question, Iseabail and Branwen followed her. Rhona didn’t bother to call her cousin back. She knew Brannie’s decision had been made. For whatever reason, she’d follow this mad queen on her insane quest, and there was nothing Rhona could do about it.
Well . . . there was one thing.
“You’re going with her,” Vigholf said. “I can see it on your face.”
“What else can I do?”
“We could go back. Back to the Valley. Back to the war. Even death in battle is better than this insanity.”
“I can’t go back. She has my cousin. She has Briec’s daughter.” She put her hand on Vigholf’s forearm. “But you can go back. Tell them what happened, tell them—”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Vigholf—”
“I’m
not
leaving you. Not with her.”
“Then you’re a fool.” She glanced over at the queen as she marched into the forest. “We’re not coming back from this, Vigholf.”
“Well, not if you’re going to be so negative.”
Despite everything, she laughed a little. “What?”
“Think positive. You never know. We could survive. And then what will you do with me? Keep me is what you’ll do.” He winked at her and followed after the others, whistling for the horses they’d left on the hill.
Rhona took another look around the camp, her eyes resting on the mangled commander’s remains.
Still disgusted by all that—Rhona had never been one for torture—she followed after the Mad Queen of Garbhán Isle and prayed that when her time came, it wouldn’t be anything like this human commander’s.
She’d hate to meet her Cadwaladr ancestors missing her leg and fingers. They’d mock her for eternity over that.
Chapter 24
 
Rhiannon stood on the castle walls and stared out over her territory. True, she allowed the humans to believe this was their territory too, but it actually was all hers. So the fact that these Tribesmen had invaded annoyed her. The fact that Annwyl wasn’t here to pound these barbarians into the dirt as she’d been doing for years, much to Rhiannon’s enjoyment, annoyed her even more.
And the Tribesmen were . . . slippery. Disappearing into the forests until they were ready to attack again.
They must worship those nature-loving gods.
Even Bercelak with a squad of Dragonwarriors had been unable to find the bastards, although they’d been attacked many times with arrows. So it looked as if they’d have to wait until the Tribesmen struck the castle again, when they were out in the open, before Rhiannon’s warriors could really do some damage.
Well, it could all be worse.
Rhiannon felt a tug on the skirt of her gown and she looked down to see her granddaughter Rhianwen standing there. Honestly! A brigade of Kyvich, a battalion of guards, a centaur, and dragons and absolutely
no one
could keep their eye on one small child?
“My sweet girl. What are you doing?” Rhiannon crouched in front of her grandchild. “Why are you up here? It’s too dangerous for you to be up here.”
“But it’s begun,” the little girl told her.
“What has?”
“The siege. Where Daddy is.” Small hands reached for her, and Rhiannon pulled her granddaughter in close.
“What happened, Rhian?”
“Daddy’s hurt,” she whispered. “They can’t help him.”
“Are . . .” Rhiannon fought to hold back panic, devastated tears. She wanted to believe the child merely had a bad dream—a nightmare. But Rhiannon knew that the girl had
seen
. “Are you sure, luv?”
She nodded. “I’m sure.”
“Is it very bad?”
“Yes. It’s very bad.” She held up a piece of parchment that she’d drawn on. “But I’m drawing this to help him.”
Rhiannon forced a smile. “It’s very pretty. I’m sure he’ll love it.”
“Don’t tell Mommy about Daddy. She’ll be upset.”
“I won’t.” Rhiannon kissed the child’s forehead, concern for her son nearly killing her. “Now I don’t want you to worry about anything,” she told the child. “This will all work out.”
“Only if the monster helps.”
“Monster?” Rhiannon asked. “What monster?”
“The angry one. The bad people hurt him. So he hates everybody now. He only has one eye. An
angry
one eye. Maybe Auntie Keita can send him eye patches to cheer him up.”
Good gods, the child spoke of the Rebel King. But how...
“Will the monster help?” she asked her granddaughter.
The child toyed with Rhiannon’s white hair as she liked to do when her grandmother held her.
“Probably not.”
“
Probably
not?” Rhiannon asked. “So there’s a chance . . . ?”
“Auntie Annwyl will have to get back what means the most to him.” The girl’s face turned painfully sad. “But she’ll have to get it from the bad one. The bad one won’t give it to her.”
“And what means most to the monster?”
“The same thing that means most to Talwyn and Talan. If Auntie Annwyl remembers that, she’ll know what to do.” Rhian sighed and looked her grandmother in the eye. “When can I have pretty necklaces and bracelets?”
“When I’m sure you won’t turn into your Aunt Keita.”
The girl finally smiled. “Auntie Keita’s funny.”
“That’s one way of putting it.” Rhiannon hugged her granddaughter tight while her mind raced with how to get Annwyl a message. Any attempts she’d made to contact either Annwyl or the others in the west, and her offspring in Euphrasia Valley had been fruitless. She’d been blocked. Her! A white Dragonwitch! Damn gods and their damn meddling. And she knew it was the gods because only they could stop her from anything. But there might still be a way. Of course she’d need—
“Take my hand,” her granddaughter told her.
“Um . . . can we play later, baby? I need to—”
“Take my hand. We can contact Auntie Annwyl together.”
“No, I . . . we’ve been unable . . .”
Rhian held her hand out. “We can do it together,” she said again. “But soon. I’ve got to finish Daddy’s drawing.”
“You really can help me contact your Auntie Annwyl, can’t you, Rhian?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know how to do that?”
She shrugged. “I just know.”
Not sure what was going on, but only able to deal with one major crisis at a time, Rhiannon took her granddaughter’s hand. “Let’s do this together, but I’ll do all the talking. I don’t want you in your Auntie Annwyl’s head. Ever.”
 
 
Sadly, Vigholf and Rhona decided to let the horses go. The terrain of the mountains was so rocky and the group would have to be able to take cover so quickly, they didn’t want to risk the horses’ safety or their own.
Although, at first, Vigholf began to believe this was a bad idea on their part. What with all the walking. For miles. And the gods knew they had many more miles to go. This Rebel King whom Annwyl wanted to find was located clear on the other side of the Provinces. The Provinces they hadn’t even reached yet. How Annwyl expected to get to where she needed to go in a timely manner, none of them knew. But the queen seemed fixed on her objective. No matter how much Rhona tried to tell her gently this was not a good idea, the queen didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to hear anything, which explained why the normally chatty Izzy and Branwen mostly kept silent.
They finally took a break the next afternoon by a stream. Food was retrieved from travel bags and water replenished from the stream. Each of them sat on small boulders or overturned tree stumps.
“It could be worse,” Vigholf softly murmured into Rhona’s ear. “It could be summertime. So miserably hot.”
Izzy dug into her pack and pulled out several pieces of fruit, which she offered to everyone. Annwyl declined with a shake of her head, Branwen took two, Vigholf took one, and Rhona declined with a flat, “No.”
With a shrug, Izzy returned to her stump and began to eat. While she did, she asked Rhona, “So how’s my father?”
When Rhona didn’t answer, Vigholf replied, “Rude.”
“So he’s fine then?”
They both chuckled.
“And how’s the war in the north? Going well?”
“Rough, I’m afraid. Those Irons . . .”
Vigholf shook his head and Izzy said, “They just keep coming.”
“That’s it. How are there so bloody many of them?”
“We’ve thought the same thing. Right, Brannie? Because they do just keep coming.” She ate some more fruit, then added, “But you know, I have to say, the way their army works . . .”
“I know,” Vigholf immediately agreed.
“. . . their organization, their discipline. And they’re so bloody ruthless.”
“You admire them,” Rhona observed, watching Izzy closely. Maybe too closely.
“How could you not? There are things they do in their ranks that we could start doing. Changes we could make that would help us in the long run.”
“Still planning to be general one day, Iseabail?” Rhona asked and Vigholf definitely heard a sneer in that even if Izzy didn’t.
Izzy shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I? I have as much chance as anyone. But I know it’ll take hard work.” Then she grinned and added, “Discipline. Organization.”
They all laughed except Rhona, who continued eating and scowling.
Izzy offered Vigholf bread. “So you were at Garbhán Isle. How’s my mother? Rhian?”
“They’re fine and Rhian is adorable.”
“I can’t wait to see her. She’s probably so big now.”
“I think she’ll be tall. Maybe not as tall as the twins, though. They’re growing like vines.”
That’s when Rhona asked Izzy, “Aren’t you going to ask about Éibhear and Celyn?”
Both Vigholf and Branwen cringed at that question, but Izzy only shrugged again. “Should I ask?”
Rhona sniffed in disgust—a sound Vigholf was well acquainted with—and went back to eating her dried beef.
Izzy placed her food down and swiped one hand against the other to brush off crumbs. “Is there something you want to say to me, Rhona?” she asked.
“No,” Rhona lashed back. “Because why would I want to say anything to the
whore
who got between two cousins?”
“Rhona!” Branwen snapped. “Have you lost your mind?”
Before Rhona could reply to that—and Vigholf knew the female was going to reply—Annwyl suddenly yelled, “What the hell are you doing in my head?”
They all stopped, the four of them looking at the queen.
“Out! Out of my head! Fearghus said you’d never be in my head!
Why are you in my head?
”
Rhona leaned over and whispered to Vigholf, “By the cock of the gods, she’s gone ’round the bend.”
“Are you sure?” Annwyl asked no one. She reached down and pulled a scroll out of her travel bag. When she unrolled it, Vigholf saw it was a map. “Aye. I see it. But are you sure? Well, how the hells would she know? She’s just a . . . oh, fine! And never do this again.”
Annwyl rolled up the map and stood. “Let’s go.”
“Go?” Vigholf asked her. “Go where?”
“I don’t have time for a litany of questions. Let’s just move.”
Izzy and Branwen scrambled to their feet, grabbed their things, and set off. Reluctantly Vigholf and Rhona followed. But Annwyl caught Rhona’s arm and held her back a moment while the two younger females went on. Unwilling to leave Rhona alone with a woman he was sure was completely insane, Vigholf stopped as well. Gods knew what the Mad Queen would say to her.
But she seemed quite clear-eyed and level-headed when she told Rhona, “Call my niece a whore again, Cadwaladr, and I’ll slit your throat.”
And with that, the queen walked away.
 
 
Vateria returned from the dungeons, her servants busy wiping the blood from her hands, neck, and face.
“What is it?” she asked her mage.
“They’re dead.”
“Who is?”
“The platoon I told you last night would be bringing Annwyl the Bloody here.”
“How do you know that?”
Her mage smiled, and she casually flipped her hands, slapping her servants in the face. “Forget I asked.” She peered at the powerful Dragonmage. “Can’t you just . . . get her?”
“She’s protected from Magicks.”
“By that bitch Dragon Queen?”
“No. By the other gods.”
“Oh. I see.”
“If we want her dead, it’ll have to be the close-up kill I’m afraid.”
“And how are we supposed to do that when she’s already killed a platoon of Laudaricus’s men?”
Junius smiled. “Wait until she comes to us.”
“Wait.” Vateria shook her head. “Are you saying that mad cow is coming
here
? To my palace?”
“I believe so.”
She clapped her hands together, and cheered, “My toy is coming to me!” Which made Junius laugh.
 
 
They were climbing up and across the side of a mountain, following Annwyl. Rhona still didn’t know why. In fact, she felt like they should put Annwyl out of her misery like a diseased animal. Then again, Rhona liked her head right where she had it. On her shoulders and securely attached.
Iseabail suddenly dropped, motioning them all down. After a moment, they saw them. Sovereign sentries, in formation and on the march. At first, Rhona thought they were coming out for them, but she saw they were merely guarding a nearby fort. Vigholf pointed to the ramparts of it in the distance.

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