How to Drive a Dragon Crazy

by G. A. Aiken

  “Hhhm?”

  “Macsen seems to have taken a sudden and rather brutal dislike to Éibhear.”

  “He never liked Éibhear.”

  “But he seems to dislike him even more now.” She jerked her head toward the other end of the clearing and Izzy watched the big blue idiot trying to get her dog to release the dragon’s tight ass, which was currently caught between Macsen’s jaws.

  “Perhaps he simply finds Éibhear irritating and confusing.”

  “Macsen finds Éibhear irritating and confusing? Macsen? The dog?”

  Taking one more bite of her bread, Izzy stood and walked over to pry her dog off Éibhear.

  Brannie watched Izzy try to call off that dog of hers. Although if Brannie were to be honest, she’d have to admit that Izzy was not trying very hard. Not as hard as she would if this was one of her soldiers.

  Aidan sat down where Izzy had been sitting.

  “What?” Brannie asked him.

  “My, we are awfully snarly. I think I saw fang.”

  “What do you want, Mì-runach?”

  “Just sitting here, being entertained by our friends.”

  “Éibhear isn’t my friend. He’s kin. A blood relation.”

  “Which means what exactly?”

  “To a Cadwaladr, it means that if I have good cause, I could beat the scales off his back and get away with it.”

  “Ah, yes. More confirmation I never want to meet the rest of your family. Although you’re so welcoming . . .”

  Brannie went back to eating her bread and meat until Uther sat on the other side of her. She had to admit, being surrounded by Mì-runach was unsettling. Her mother had raised her with two beliefs about the Mì-runach: they were invaluable in battle, but you should never turn your back on one.

  “But what about granddad?” Brannie had asked, holding on to her mother’s tail while the dragoness had walked through a forest near their home. “He was Mì-runach.”

  “And the worst of the lot, my girl. The worst of the lot. Especially to his offspring. We never turned our backs on your grandfather. Addolgar did once . . . he still has that scar where his head got split open.”

  So Brannie assumed if her own grandfather couldn’t have been trusted, then obviously three strange Mì-runach she didn’t even know could definitely not be trusted. Yet Brannie still felt the need to ask them a question.

  “Perhaps it’s the leftover ale still rolling around my head, but . . .” She motioned to a bickering Izzy and Éibhear while the dog kept barking and trying to re-attach itself to Éibhear’s ass. “Has something changed between those two?”

  The Mì-runach looked at each other and then over at the arguing Izzy and Éibhear. Izzy’s dog was in her arms now but still attempting to lunge at Éibhear’s face.

  Together, the males stated, “Not at all.”

  After a few more hours of travel, they stopped in a town pub for a meal and to discuss the remainder of their trip.

  Izzy had been sure that Éibhear had made up all that centaur shit about Aidan knowing his way around the Desert Lands in order to convince her mother he and his friends were necessary. But it turned out Aidan had spent years in the Desert Lands and remembered well his way there and around.

  He pulled out a map and spread it out on the table, pushing the empty bowls and plates out of the way so they could all look.

  “I know of at least seventeen ways we can sneak into the Desert Lands unseen, including taking the pass through—”

  “Wait,” Izzy cut in. “Why do we need to sneak into the Desert Lands? Both Annwyl and Rhiannon have an alliance with the Desert Land rulers.”

  Aidan looked down at the map and back up at her. “I thought this was a kill assignment. Isn’t this a kill assignment?” he asked Éibhear.

  She saw Brannie quickly turn her head away when Izzy snarled, “No. This isn’t a kill assignment.”

  “But that’s what we do,” Aidan insisted. “We kill. We sneak in and kill. Are you unclear on what the Mì-runach do?”

  “I didn’t invite you people!” Izzy looked at Éibhear. “Fix this. Fix this right now.”

  He held his hands up and said to Aidan, “We’re not there to kill anyone.”

  “Then why are we going?”

  “I’m going to see my grandmother,” Izzy said.

  “We just left your grandmother.”

  “Another grandmother!”

  “Well, how many do you have?”

  “That’s it!” Éibhear ordered them all. “That’s it.”

  Éibhear stopped a moment to glare at the people in the pub who’d started to stare at them. When everyone looked away, he focused back on the group.

  “We’ve got two things to do when we get to the Desert Lands. See if we can find Vateria Flominia and if we do, learn whether she’s causing problems. Then I’ll report that back to my mother. The other task is to escort General Iseabail to the Nolwenn territories to meet with her grandmother and—”

  “Did you make an appointment?” Aidan asked Izzy.

  Izzy looked around. “Did who make an appointment?”

  “You.”

  “Make an appointment with my grandmother? Why would I do that?”

  “Powerful rulers wait months to meet with the Nolwenns.”

  “I’m her granddaughter.”

  Uther said around the chicken leg he was currently sucking marrow from, “Thought she kicked your mum on the street.”

  Izzy was nearly across the table, her hands around the big bastard’s throat before another big bastard scooped her up and took her out of the pub.

  “I don’t know how this is going to work if you can’t control your temper.”

  Izzy pulled herself away from his arms, which he didn’t really want her to do, but he knew better than to grab her back.

  “Why are they here?” she demanded, facing him. “For that matter, why are you here?”

  “We both know why I’m here.”

  “Why? For more fucking? Will you finally get your chance to brag to Celyn when we get back? Laugh about it at the pub? Or have another reason to blame me for your gods-damn misery? To again point the finger at the whore who came between cousins?”

  Éibhear answered the only way he could think of at the moment, “Are you still going on about that?”

  Izzy’s hands curled into fists and she took an angry step forward. But then, just as suddenly, she took a quick step back, looked around, and finally—wonderfully—laughed.

  “You rude bastard.”

  Éibhear joined her, the two of them standing in some alley in some town neither knew much about, laughing.

  “Sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

  She waved the apology away. “It’s a little matter.”

  “You’re worried about meeting her, aren’t you?”

  “I want to do what’s best for my sister. But this is about her future and if I get it wrong . . .”

  “That’s why I’ll be with you through all this. Your sister but my niece. I’m not about to let her train under someone not worthy of the challenge. And if we can also find out whether Vateria is in the Desert Lands for my mother, that’s even better. We’ll accomplish more in a few weeks than most of my kin accomplish in a few thousand years.”

  “You know, I’ve seen Vateria, I know what she did to her cousin. Why Grandmum isn’t just getting rid of her is beyond me.”

  “The last thing we need is for other dragon kingdoms to think we’re here to kill on order.”

  “So she sends in the Mì-runach? That seems like a good plan to you?”

  “The Mì-runach have done reconnaissance. We’re good at it.”

  “I can see that. All four of you just . . . blend.”

  “You’ll see.” He turned back toward the pub door. “And, while we’re at it, if we can manage to get in a little more of that fucking you were talking about—that works for me as well.”

  “Oh, that was subtle,” she complained, following behind him.


  “I’m known for my subtlety. That was the other option for my name. Éibhear the Contemptible or Éibhear the Subtle.”

  “Did you have other name options?”

  “Aye. There was Éibhear the Despicable. Éibhear the Rude. And Éibhear the Murdering Rat Bastard Who Should Burn in the Farthest Reaches of Hell.” He stopped just in the doorway, looked down at Izzy. “I think that was my favorite.”

  Chuckling, she pushed past him. “Of course it was.”

  Chapter 26

  For three days they rode far south. It wasn’t an easy trip. Not remotely leisurely, all of them exhausted and cranky by the time they bedded down for the night—except for that damn dog that never seemed to get tired—and each league they passed led to warmer and warmer weather. It might be fall in Dark Plains, but it felt like summertime the closer they got to the territorial lines between the Southlands and the deserts.

  But just when Éibhear didn’t think he could stand going another mile, Brannie rode up beside him. He reined in his horse, as did she, and she pointed off to the right. “Do you know what’s over there?” Brannie asked.

  “No.”

  “Salt mines.”

  Éibhear shrugged. “Do you need some salt?”

  She let out that annoyed sigh—it was a sound she’d been making a lot on this trip—and said, “No. But the Queen’s troops are there. That means fresh meat, ale, perhaps a bed or a nice cave. Just for a night.”

  He really did like the sound of that.

  “What’s going on?” Izzy asked when she reached his side.

  “The salt mines are near here. We can get fresh food and drink and a nice place to sleep with my mum’s troops.”

  Izzy gazed at him a moment; then she looked at the rest of their travel party, who now waited expectantly, before she focused on him again.

  “You do know I’m human, don’t you?”

  He was surprised by her question. “I’m aware.”

  “And you want me to be the lone human with an entire troop of dragons? And aren’t the salt mines a sort of prison for your kind?”

  “I’m sure the salt mines have whores,” Caswyn added while looking around what was becoming more and more barren territory the farther they traveled.

  Éibhear gawked at him, eyes wide, wondering what the hell the dragon had been thinking.

  When Caswyn looked back at them all—and realized they were all staring at him—he clarified, “Not that you’re a whore. Just that dragons usually have whores around and they’re usually human. So you should feel quite comfortable.”

  When everyone’s mouth opened a little wider, Caswyn sighed and said, “What I mean is—”

  “Please stop talking,” Brannie desperately cut in. “For the love of all the gods in all the worlds, please stop talking!”

  “I was just trying to put her at ease.”

  “They’ll have ale?” Izzy asked Éibhear.

  “Lots of ale.”

  She walked her horse around him. “Thank the gods for something,” she muttered, and spurred her horse off the road and toward the salt mines.

  After stabling their horses in town not far from the salt mines—yes, for the horses’ own safety—the traveling party arrived at the main mountain that overlooked the entire borderline between the Southlands and the Desert Lands.

  Izzy rode Brannie to the entrance but dismounted once they’d landed. Without waiting for the others, she headed toward the caverns.

  “Izzy,” Éibhear called out. “Wait.”

  But Izzy wouldn’t wait. If she didn’t want to become an immediate target of some pushy dragon, she needed to show no fear from the beginning. And entering while riding on Brannie’s back, or with Éibhear at her side, only ensured that none of the troops would take her seriously.

  Izzy walked into the large cavern. It was, she’d admit, a bit overwhelming to be amongst all these dragons who weren’t kin or friend. She’d never felt like a tiny woman before . . . until now.

  Standing in the middle of the cavern, Izzy kept her hand on the sword at her side. After a few moments, one of the dragons lifted his head and sniffed the air. He looked around the cavern until his gaze moved down to her.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  “Iseabail the Dangerous,” she said loudly so that everyone would hear. “General of Annwyl the Bloody’s Eighth, Fourteenth, and Twenty-sixth Legions.”

  The dragon studied her for several long moments before he finally nodded and said, “Nice to meet ya, lass. Let us know if you need anything.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, feeling a little disappointed. She’d expected more of a reaction. A little something. Did humans just wander into their caverns all the time?

  “Izzy?”

  She looked up, forced a smile. “Fal. Hello.”

  Brannie and Celyn’s older brother, Fal. Although Izzy considered him family like all Cadwaladrs, she didn’t always like him very much.

  “What are you doing here?” He grinned. “Had to see me, eh?”

  And that was why Izzy didn’t like him very much. Ever since he’d found out Izzy and Celyn had been together, he’d been on a quest to get between her legs. It wasn’t that he wasn’t attractive. He was. But he was also a bit of an annoying prat, too. Not a charming prat like Gwenvael. Just annoying.

  “I’m on a trip with—”

  “Brannie?” Fal asked, his gaze behind Izzy. He smiled, but it quickly faded and the busy activity around Izzy abruptly stopped. She turned, afraid of what she’d find . . . but it was just Brannie, Éibhear, Aidan, Uther, and Caswyn.

  Yawning, Brannie stomped up beside Fal and Izzy.

  “Fal.” She nodded at her brother. “You got fat.”

  Izzy gasped. “Brannie!”

  “He is. Dragons can get fat, you know, Iz. The Cadwaladrs just choose not to.” She cut her brother a hard look. “Or should I say most of the Cadwaladrs choose not to.”

  Fal gripped his sister’s forearm. “I need to talk to you.”

  “What? You need some diet tips—hey!”

  Izzy watched Fal drag his sister off; then she noticed that everyone was staring at Éibhear and the others. A few leaned over to nearby comrades and whispered, rather loudly, “Mì-runach.” But there was a tone of disgust and fear. A tone she didn’t much appreciate.

  They were all still part of the same army, still there to protect the Dragon Queen and her subjects. So the Mì-runach did it a little differently? What did that matter?

  “Oy!” Izzy yelled out, as she did with her own troops. “Don’t you lot have work to get done? Now?”

  “And who the hells are you?” some upstart demanded.

  “I am Iseabail the Dangerous,” she called up to the rude bastard. “Daughter of Talaith and Briec the Mighty. General to Annwyl the Bloody’s Eighth, Fourteenth, and Twenty-sixth Legions.” She threw down the horn-handled dagger her father had had made for her many years ago. “And killer of the dragon whose horn that used to be, Olgeir the Wastrel.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Who are you?”

  Aidan leaned in and whispered low into Éibhear’s ear, “I’d initially found her large shoulders a tad off-putting. But I must say that at this moment . . . completely understand the attraction.”

  Éibhear didn’t answer him, but instead watched the troops go back to their work. Izzy swiped up her dagger, tucked it back into the holster attached to her sword belt, and marched over to Éibhear’s side. She motioned him down with a wave of her hand. He lowered himself a bit. “Aye?”

  “Why does everyone hate you? Other than the obvious reasons, of course.”

  Smart-ass. “Because we’re Mì-runach.”

  “You’d think they’d appreciate what you do for your queen.”

  “You’d think.”

  She looked so annoyed by how the others had treated him and his comrades. Whether she realized she was upset for him, Éibhear didn’t know, but he was enjoying it. Enjoying her. He wouldn’t mention that, though. He k
new it would only piss her off.

  “I’m not discussing it!” Brannie roared as she came stomping around a corner, her idiot brother Fal following behind her.

  “You can’t just bring bloody Mì-runach here, Branwen! Not without permission of—”

  Brannie spun around and faced her brother, her sharpened tail pointing in his face, dangerously close to his eye. “The Mì-runach are part of this army, you idiot. They need no one’s permission to go anywhere on Her Majesty’s territory. And Éibhear is your cousin. He’s kin. A Cadwaladr by blood. Never forget that, Fal the Tepid.”

  Éibhear leaned down a bit more and whispered, “That name will stick.”

  “Aye. I’m afraid you may be right.” Izzy cringed a bit, but added, “Tragic really, but from what I understand . . . deserved.”

  “You two going to start braiding each other’s hair next?” Uther grumbled. And, when they all turned to look at him: “I’m hungry!”

  “We’d best get him fed,” Aidan warned. “You know how he gets.”

  Éibhear glanced around. “There’s got to be something to eat around here until we can get a proper meal.” He pointed across the cavern. “There. Cow’s legs.”

  Izzy looked over. “Good gods, those are cow’s legs. They just have cow’s legs lying around? Like treats?”

  “What would you expect a dragon to eat?” Éibhear asked her. “Chicken legs?”

  “I guess you have a point, but . . .”

  Uther now stood in front of them with a cow’s leg, using his fangs to rip meat off the bone. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he sighed loudly. “That’s good.”

  Izzy gazed up at Éibhear. “Eww.”

  Izzy put her hand to her mouth to hide her laugh and keep food from flying out. When it was decided that the Mì-runach were staying—dealing with Izzy was one thing for these dragons, but dealing with Captain Branwen the Awful was definitely another—a small feast was thrown together in one of the caverns with a long dining table, plates, and utensils. And, in honor of Iseabail, everyone came as human. At least they said it was in honor of Iseabail. Izzy really thought it was more about getting a chance to hang around the human prostitutes in their less intimidating forms.