What a Dragon Should Know (49 page)

Dagmar held the burning stick over the pit.

“Don’t,” one of them begged.

“But as a fellow Northlander … you already know I will.” She opened her hand and the small stick fell. It grazed against the side of the pit—it, too, saturated with oil—and the tiny flame led to an eruption that tore down the wall and right into the pit.

The dragons screamed as the flames followed the oil under their scales to their flammable flesh beneath.

It was hard to hear over their screams, but the crackling told her to move and move now.

Dagmar did, standing and tripping backward on the hem of her gown.

Flames shot up into the sky and she turned to run, but scaled forearms grabbed her around the waist, pulling her close.

“Head down, love,” Addolgar ordered, and then his wings surrounded them as he turned and everything in the pit exploded in a shower of flame and lightning.

Talaith wasn’t surprised when Izzy got back to her feet so quickly. She’d, thankfully, taken after her birth father’s side of the family—all of them quite hearty. But the sight of Izzy springing back from her dance with lightning, did nothing but piss off the old dragon who’d barely avoided his own strikes coming back at him as they were reflected by the shield.

Wanting them both dead now, he attacked Izzy with his tail and unleashed more lightning strikes at Talaith. She raised her hand, the shielding spell coming to her immediately. It wasn’t as powerful as she would have liked and only absorbed the lightning strikes rather than turning them back on its sender. She didn’t have time to worry about that, though, as she grabbed her dagger from the sheath tied to her thigh. Oh, how she wished she could tell her daughter to run and hide, but they simply didn’t have that luxury.

The dragon swiped at Talaith with his claw and she dodged under and around it. He went for her again and Talaith neatly sidestepped the grasping appendage.

She was at his side now and she could see Izzy slam her foot on top of the dragon’s tail. With the heavy shield braced in her hands, Izzy looked at her mother.

Talaith nodded once and yelled up at the dragon, “That all you can do, you old bastard? That all you have in you?”

The dragon swung a fist at Talaith as Izzy held the Lightning’s tail in place long enough to bring the sharp edge of her shield down, severing the three-foot-long sharpened metal tip from the scale-covered muscled portion.

The dragon roared, his fist missing Talaith completely. Outraged, he slammed his bleeding tail down again and again, trying to crush a running and dodging Izzy.

Talaith thought he’d give his full attention to Izzy, but he was no fool. He reached down again, trying to grab Talaith. Debating her next move, she saw Izzy pick up the tip of the dragon’s tail, readying to use the spiked piece as her weapon.

Impressed beyond reason, she bellowed, “Izzy!” Talaith quickly leaned back as swiping talons came entirely too close, the tip of one grazing along her chin. “Run and jump!”

Gwenvael snatched the sword from the Lightning’s claw and stood, his tail still wrapped around the bastard’s cock. He used it to throw him across the glen. Charging after him, Gwenvael went up in the air and came down with the sword in both claws. The blade tore through the Lightning’s hard skull and out the back.

Twisting it, he yanked it free and ran back toward Izzy and Talaith, intent on saving them.

But as he slid to a stumbling stop beside Addolgar and his cousins, his mouth fell open. He’d be the first to admit this wasn’t what he expected to see. Nor did his kin, based on the way they watched but didn’t intervene.

He felt a small tap on his leg and looked down at Dagmar. Her clothes were covered in soot, which seemed strange, even for her, and his tail automatically wrapped around her legs as she took hold of one of his talons. Together they all stood and watched.

Talaith grabbed hold of Olgeir’s talon as it tried to rip her open, that damn blade of hers caught between her teeth as the Lightning’s claw rose. When he realized he had something attached, he lifted it to get a closer look and Talaith dropped from his talon to his snout. She landed on her knees and brought the blade down hard where two of his scales met tightly. Only a human as well trained as Talaith could hit that mark, the Lightning screaming in pain and rearing back on his haunches. Talaith stayed on his snout merely by holding onto the blade she’d impaled him with.

That’s when Gwenvael’s niece ran up the Lightning’s back, sliding down when he went on his haunches, but charging forward again when he slammed back down to the ground. She ran, and she kept running.

Up the Lightning’s back she charged until she’d reached the top of his head. That’s when she used her right foot to lift off, her body forced away from the Lightning. Then, in midair, she turned with her arm going back at the same time, then forward as she faced the bastard.
Is that a … ?
Yes. It was the tip of a dragon’s tail.
That
dragon’s tail. And she used it to tear into Olgeir’s eye, his roaring screams causing every dragon in an eighty league radius to flinch in empathy.

But Izzy always had strength and power and she used it to drive that tip straight past his eye and the bluntly hard dragon’s skull, right into Olgeir’s brain.

The screams abruptly ended and the Lightning appeared dazed. He stumbled forward, stumbled back, and then his big body was falling. With both Izzy and Talaith still on the highest point.

Gwenvael went to catch them, but Addolgar held him back. He was glad, too. Otherwise, he would have missed the beautiful way mother and daughter took their leave of Olgeir. Talaith waited until the dragon neared the ground before jumping off and away, her body rolling effortlessly from him until she was right back to her feet. Even more impressive was that she still held her dagger, having pulled it out at the last second.

Izzy was a bit more flamboyant, releasing her hold on the dragon’s tip and letting her body fall. When her feet touched Olgeir’s forearm, she pushed off and backflipped away from the dragon. His knee tapped her on the way down so she flipped again, her head almost slamming into the ground. But she was a fast girl and her hands hit the ground first, pushing her off yet again. Three more backflips and she was standing by Gwenvael.

Panting, she smiled up at him. And, of course, she waved “Hello, Gwenvael!”

He beamed back at her, loving his little niece more than he thought possible. “Izzy. Having a good day?”

She peeked at her mother and when Talaith blew her a kiss, her grin grew much wider. “It’s getting better.”

Ragnar stepped past the doorway, the afternoon suns blazing down on his head. The Southland Dragon Queen stood next to him. They’d made their deal, and now the hard part would begin.

“Back to the Northlands, then?” she asked.

“Yes. I have many arrangements to make.”

“And your father?”

“Will be a problem, but not my only one. There are others who hope to rule as well. They’ll need to be dealt with.” He exhaled. “But first … my father.”

And that’s when the land shook as Olgeir the Wastrel crash-landed in the middle of the courtyard.

“Sorry,” someone yelled from above. “Lost me grip!”

That Gold dragon he’d sent Dagmar off with dropped to the ground beside the corpse. “It’s all right,” he called back up. “You didn’t hit anyone.”

The Gold lowered himself to the ground and three females slipped off his back, one of them Dagmar. Ragnar was so relieved to see her, he didn’t have words.

The Dragon Queen’s children rushed from the Great Hall to the courtyard stairs. “What the hell is this?” the arrogant, silver-haired one demanded.

A young girl pointed excitedly at Olgeir’s body. “Daddy! Look what Mum and I did!” She held up Olgeir’s horns. “And Addolgar gave me these! He said I could wear them on my helmet as a sign of honor!”

Bercelak the Great leaned against the doorway, his arms folded over his chest. “This is awkward,” he said with a definite smirk.

The girl stared up at Ragnar, suddenly asking, “Do you know him?”

Rhiannon leaned forward and whispered quite loudly, “Its his father, dear.”

Horrified, she said, “Gods. I’m so sorry.”

The other human female, browner than the first but smaller, pushed the girl toward the stairs. “Let it go, Izzy.”

“I didn’t know.” The girl held up his father’s horns when she reached the step Ragnar stood on. “Do you want these back? Or his tail?”

“Izzy!” The woman pushed her into the Great Hall. “Stop talking.”

“And what have you been up to?” the Silver snapped at the females. “First you don’t want her fighting at all, and now you’re throwing her into battles with this idiot’s father!”

“Don’t yell at me! It’s not like we had a choice!” She nodded at Ragnar. “Sorry about your father.” She marched into the Great Hall. “And just shut up about it, Briec!”

“I will not!”

The Gold shifted to human and brazenly walked naked up the stairs past Rhiannon. “Mother of my heart!” He stopped by Ragnar. “Liar monk.”

“Ruiner.”

He glanced back at Dagmar who was making her patient cautious way up the stairs. “Go near her,” the Gold said low, “and I’ll let Talaith and Izzy do to you what they did to your father.”

Ragnar raised a brow as the Gold slung his arm over Bercelak’s shoulders.

“Father! I need to fill you in on a new fighting technique I’ve discovered. Come. Let me tell you all about it.”

Ragnar smiled down at Dagmar. Her simple grey gown was torn, dirty, and covered in soot. Her spectacles were frighteningly dirty and one side of her face had scrapes. She’d never looked happier.

“Spot of trouble?” he teased as she climbed the stairs to him.

“A bit. Sorry I missed the meeting. But I’ll do what I can as things progress though”—she reached up and tapped his chin as she came to a stop before him—“betray me again at your own peril, Horde dragon.” Panting, exhausted, she still managed a smile. “I know Brastias thought my little trap was a waste of time. Now I can tell him it’s not. I just have to make sure to account next time for the fire-lightning dynamics.”

“What have I always told you, Lady Dagmar?”

She rolled her eyes. “Every action has a positive reaction—blah, blah, blah.” Dagmar winked at the Dragon Queen. “Don’t worry, though, Majesty. The Cadwaladrs are putting out the forest fire as we speak.”

“Forest fire?” Rhiannon immediately went on her toes and tried to look over the buildings.

Deciding it was best to be on his way, Ragnar headed down the steps, the voice of the queen’s consort bellowing behind him, “You grabbed his
what?”

Yes. It was definitely time to get back to his people. The Northlanders had the usual problems—hate, violence, betrayal. But give him that over this oddness any day.

Walking past his father’s body, Ragnar kept his gaze forward and didn’t bother to look at the old dragon once more. It wasn’t easy, but he was a Northlander in southern territory—he’d never show them how much it hurt to see a once-great dragon warrior like this. And felled by human females, no less. Yet the pain Ragnar felt wouldn’t change anything. His father was gone and Ragnar’s work was far from over. He still had those loyal to his father and those who would now want control of the Horde to contend with. Yet, knowing he wasn’t the one who’d had to take his father’s life did ease him in many ways.

Going on foot as human, Ragnar took his time walking his sorrow out so that as he neared the cave where his brother and cousins waited for him he felt much better. Then he caught movement from the corner of his eye and turned, instantly shifting to his dragon form and lifting his claws, a powerful spell on his tongue. But those brown eyes caught him off guard, momentarily stunning him as they’d done to him again and again since he’d caught her in his net. And because he was so trapped by those damn eyes, he didn’t see that tail until it rammed full strength into his chest, barely missing his heart and several major arteries.

She stepped into him, the tail forced in deeper, pushing him back until he hit a tree.

Ragnar gritted his teeth, refusing to let her know exactly how much pain she was causing.

A lock of dark red hair fell across her forehead as her tail pushed in one last time before ripping out of him.

A single, strangled sound of pain escaped past his clenched fangs and he bent forward. Blood poured to the ground, but she hadn’t wounded him enough to kill him. And, even bleeding as much as he was, he could still destroy her. For he was a battle mage of great power. Trained in the arts of claw-to-claw combat, weaponry, survival tactics, and warfare spellcasting, Ragnar was unfazed by most that life had to offer.

Until her. Until Keita the Viper.

To say they hadn’t gotten along on their trip to the Southlands would be an understatement, and when he’d released her before the two suns rose, he truly never thought he’d see her again. For once, apparently, he’d been wrong.

And, more importantly, she was much braver than he’d given her credit for.

“Was it something I said?” he called after her as she stalked off into the trees, gone from his life forever …

He could only hope.

“You’re still talking,” Talaith complained. The warm cloth pressed over her face, although soothing, couldn’t manage to block out the voice of her mate.

“Damn right, I’m still talking,” he shot back. “It’s bad enough you decided to play Lady Danger with a Lightning, but then you involved my daughter. Unacceptable!”

Talaith snatched the cloth off her face and glared across the too-small tub. She once had a bigger one, but she’d switched it out for the smaller one in the hopes of getting to do this sort of thing alone. And yet somehow Briec always managed to force his big dragon ass in with her. Nor did it help that he insisted on doing very distracting things with his toes. How could she stay angry or order him to leave when he kept touching her in a completely inappropriate and yet enjoyable way?

“We had little choice. I didn’t see you running in to protect us, Lord Arrogant!”

“And what? You thought Izzy could take care of herself?”