Wel . . . what could he do? Except for what he’d already been doing. Trying to keep the pair separated. And when they did have to work together, trying to keep them from fighting every five minutes.
Honestly, he wished they’d both just focus. Austel hated that tunnel. He hated being in such a smal place. True, it wasn’t smal by most beings’
standards, but it was to dragons. It would al ow for them to make it into the Polycarp Mountains two at a time. Hopeful y, once they were in, they would find their way to the Irons and destroy them from within. At least that was the plan, but Austel liked being outside. Or in a much larger cavern.
Tunnels, like bridges, were just things that could col apse in his estimation.
“Come on. You need to get back to work.”
“Yeah, al right.”
Together they stood, but Austel stopped to put his claw on his friend’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m sure everything wil work out with Briec. We get this tunnel done, kil al the Irons, and get him home. Easy and simple. We like easy and simple, right? Right? ” Éibhear rol ed his eyes and recited their creed: “Only where women are concerned.” Austel laughed and slapped the Blue on the back. “That’s the spirit! Now let’s get this done.” Chapter 26
It felt like ages as they traveled through those tunnels, but Annwyl seemed to know where she was going and it had to be safer than cutting straight through—or even around—the Provinces. But stil , Vigholf couldn’t help but be extra vigilant as they al moved along. It wasn’t like the Sovereign humans didn’t have their own dragons who could bring human soldiers down here just as he and Rhona had with Annwyl and the others.
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?”
“I have nothing to lose at this point.”
“Don’t you?”
And that’s when human soldiers grabbed Iseabail, a dragon in human form grabbed Brannie, and Rhona and Vigholf were surrounded by wel -
armed dragons and humans who came at them from behind.
“If you don’t think I’l kil them al , human, you’re sadly mis—”
“She’s hurting her, you know,” the queen said.
Confused, Vigholf glanced at Rhona, but al she could do was shrug, exasperated.
“Every day,” the queen went on. “Every day she hurts her more and more. And soon she wil be so broken . . . it won’t matter if they let her go.
Because she might as wel be dead anyway.” Annwyl stepped forward, moving closer to a dragon who clearly didn’t like her. “And whose fault wil that be, Gaius, the Rebel King? Whose fault?” She smiled, but it wasn’t one of her pleasant, slightly off ones. It was a mean smile from a very mean royal. “It’l be yours because you’ve done nothing to help. You’l have kil ed her because you’re sitting on your fat ass in these stupid caves doing nothing. Tel me, Iron, how wil you live knowing al that when they send her crucified body back to you?” It was a low rumble, like an oncoming earthquake or one of the volcanoes near her father’s home just before it erupted.
And gods, did the Rebel King erupt.
Roaring in rage and pain, he grabbed hold of a startled Annwyl and flung her to the ground. Vigholf dashed forward, barely catching her before her brains and body could be decimated against the cave floor. Then the king sucked in air and Rhona yel ed, “Izzy! Move!” The human girl dove behind her cousin seconds before they were hit with a blast of flame so mighty it shoved Rhona and Vigholf back, knocking Annwyl from his arms, and Brannie into Izzy, both young females squealing.
Annwyl flipped across the cave floor, landing facedown. The Rebel King marched forward, shifting as he did, his eye patch adjusting to his human size. Gaius Domitus snatched a spear out of one of the human soldiers’ hands and stalked over to the queen. Vigholf tried to stop him, but dragons held him back, and another two held Rhona, so that al they could do was watch.
King Gaius raised the spear above Annwyl as she lifted her head, flipping her hair back. “So that’s it then?” Annwyl asked, grinning. “You’re just going to let her die?”
“Shut up! ”
“You’re going to let your own sister die at the claws of Vateria?” Annwyl got to her feet. “I’d heard you were smarter than that. Smart enough to know an opportunity when you see one.” Annwyl moved a bit closer. “Let me get her for you. Let me bring your sister back.” The king’s body jerked a bit, his arms lowering. “What?”
“I’l get her. I know you can’t. None of you can. They know who you are. They know your scent. They took her because keeping her controls you.
But once Thracius is back—she dies. But they don’t know me. I can free her. I can bring your sister back to you.”
“You? You go into the heart of the Provinces, into the Overlord’s palace, and release my sister from their dungeons? You?” he said again.
“Why not me?”
“You can’t just waltz in there and save her.”
“What’s your alternative? To hope to see her on the other side when your time comes?” His hands tightened on the spear. “And if you fail, human?”
“And if I don’t? As it is, if you don’t get her out now—you might as wel go ahead and build her funeral pyre. Because you kil ed her.” Rhona only had a moment to rol her eyes, knowing how she would respond to someone saying that to her about her siblings, before the king rammed the spear at Annwyl. But the queen, a true warrior, caught hold of the spear’s shaft with her left hand, yanked the king’s human form close, and punched him twice in the face with her right. Then she unsheathed one of her swords and had it against his throat before he had a chance to register pain from her punching him, or his soldiers even had a chance to move. Clearly Annwyl’s madness only affected her mind, not her battle skil s.