How to Drive a Dragon Crazy

by G. A. Aiken

  Éibhear pushed past the battling dragons and ran out to one of the ledges. He leaned out and saw that stupid dog running straight into the desert. He’d refused to stay back in the town with the horses, unwilling to be too far from Izzy’s side. So they’d left him in a small cavern at ground level for his safety. Éibhear had forgotten all about him.

  “Go,” Aidan ordered, pushing Éibhear’s travel bag at him. “Go. Get her. We’ll deal with this here, and come for you two later.”

  “We don’t even know if she’s been taken.”

  “That dog wouldn’t go anywhere without her. If we found him sobbing in a corner, I’d say she was dead. But he’s running after her. And if anyone can track her down, it’s that mangy mutt. Now go.”

  Éibhear took his travel bag, slinging it across his shoulders.

  “Take this as well.” Aidan shoved the map of the Desert Lands at him. “For our queen, for our honor.”

  Éibhear repeated the favorite Mì-runach saying, “For our queen, for our honor.” Then over the side he went, letting the wind lift his wings and his ears lead him to where that damn dog was tearing through the desert in search of his mistress.

  Chapter 27

  They were well into their meal when Gwenvael heard screams from outside. He looked up from his lamb and asked, “Did anyone know Mum was coming here tonight?”

  Everyone was shaking their heads when Rhiannon stormed into the Great Hall . . . naked. Although Gwenvael was just grateful that she wasn’t trying to come inside while still in her dragonform. That always led to repairs and Annwyl complaining incessantly about the cost of good stone masons.

  “Problems!” she yelled as she walked in. “Problems!”

  Morfyd gasped at the sight of their naked mother and jumped up from the table. One of the servants tossed a fur cape to her before she’d even made it across the room and she immediately wrapped it around their mother’s shoulders at the same time their father rushed into the Great Hall. At least he had on leggings and was busy trying to pull on his boots.

  “I wish you wouldn’t run from me like that,” he snarled at Rhiannon.

  “We don’t have time for all these human issues about their naked bodies! We have problems!”

  “It’s probably that idiot boy’s fault!” Bercelak lashed back.

  Young Frederik’s head snapped up, his attention finally pulled away from the book he’d been reading all through dinner. Now that he had his reading spectacles and didn’t have to pretend he was as stupid as the rest of the males in his family, the boy always seemed to have a book in his hands.

  Gwenvael leaned over and whispered to him, “He doesn’t mean you. You’re fine.”

  “Oh. Good. Thanks.” Then back to his book Frederik went.

  “What’s going on?” Briec demanded while still sounding amazingly bored. It was definitely a skill Gwenvael’s brother had. One none of Briec’s siblings had ever been able to master.

  “We’ve been attacked! And betrayed!” Rhiannon announced.

  Annwyl instantly stood, her hand on her sword, and Fearghus quickly ordered her to “sit down. Now.”

  Grumbling, the human queen did just that. Fearghus had definitely gotten faster over the years at stopping his mate before the killing could commence. Something they all appreciated about Fearghus.

  “Who’s attacking us?” Keita asked, needing this information so she could plot which poison would work best.

  “Those bloody Sand Eaters have attacked my salt mines.”

  “King Heru?” Fearghus asked. “He sent his troops to attack the salt mines? Is he in desperate need of salt?”

  “No, he does not—” Rhiannon cut herself off. “He’s not attacking the salt mines, idiot. He’s attacking us!”

  “Us as in all of us?” Briec asked. “Or us as in the royal you?”

  “Bercelak!” Rhiannon bellowed.

  Their father quickly took over, stepping in front of their mother and saying, “All we know is that the salt mines were attacked just a little while ago by a battalion of Sand Eaters.”

  “Sent by King Heru?” Fearghus pushed.

  “We don’t know.”

  “Have we lost ground?” Briec asked.

  “No.”

  Fearghus and Briec glanced at each other and Gwenvael.

  Frowning, Fearghus asked, “You’re saying that the troops we have on the Southland border repelled a full-on assault by Sand Eaters? Those troops did that?”

  Because they’d had peace on that border for so long and the weather was so miserable, usually only the worst of their troops went to the salt mines. And, if they were attacked, it was assumed that those dragons would just give the rest of them enough time to gather resources and prepare to repel any efforts to push farther into their territory. Honestly, they were nothing more than disposable guard dogs.

  Bercelak looked back at Rhiannon and she shrugged. “Tell them.”

  Nodding, Bercelak said to them, “There were Mì-runach at the salt mines.”

  Briec shook his head, confused. “Why were Mì-runach in—’”

  “By the gods,” Talaith gasped. She shot to her feet. “Izzy!”

  “She’s safe,” Bercelak quickly assured her. “Rhiannon talked to Brannie and she says Izzy is fine. Éibhear’s keeping her safe.”

  “Éibhear’s with Izzy?” Briec turned accusing eyes on his mate. “And you knew, didn’t you?”

  “Of course I knew. I guess I just don’t see what your problem with it could possibly be.”

  “Don’t see the problem? How can you say that?”

  “They’re not blood related, Briec. Unless, of course, it’s the fact that my daughter is not of royal blood that bothers you.”

  “What?”

  “Just admit it. That’s what this is really about. You don’t think my daughter’s good enough for your royal brother.”

  “Actually,” Gwenvael clarified since Briec had become so angry his human face was almost as purple as Ragnar’s hair, “we don’t think that idiot is good enough for our little Izzy.”

  “Little Izzy?” Dagmar asked.

  “Relatively speaking, of course.”

  “You lot are so mean to poor Éibhear.” Annwyl glared at the males. “No wonder he hasn’t been home in ten winters.”

  “He’s Mì-runach,” Fearghus explained.

  Sounding frustrated, Annwyl snapped, “I still have no idea what that means.”

  “It means we don’t want our little Izzy getting mixed up with Éibhear the Contemptible!”

  “He’s your brother!”

  “Not by choice!”

  Bercelak slammed his meaty fists onto the table. “What does any of that have to do with our current problem?” their father demanded.

  “Nothing,” Gwenvael replied. “But it’s tons more interesting than some boring Sand Eaters.”

  “I should have smashed your egg when I had the chance,” Bercelak shot back at Gwenvael.

  “Father!” Gwenvael gasped, his hands to his heart. “That’s so hurtful. Don’t you love me at all?”

  “No!”

  “Excuse me!” Rhiannon snarled, pushing past her mate and staring down at her children. “Don’t any of you,” she demanded, “care about my poor sweet baby boy and the danger he’s in?”

  “No,” every adult male in the room replied.

  By following that damn dog, Éibhear was able to eventually catch up to the Sand Eater who’d taken Izzy. The dragon held her in one claw while careening low over the land. Éibhear had no idea what the bastard had done to her, but to say he was pissed off was really an understatement. He picked up speed, closing the distance, but just as he was near enough that he could swoop down and snatch Izzy from the Sand Eater’s claw, the dragon suddenly dived first. He dropped to the ground, Izzy cradled close to his body. Then, before Éibhear could reach him, the Sand Eater’s wings came up and around, slamming closed with Izzy inside.

  Éibhear blinked, surprised. He’d never seen that
before. The Sand Eater went from dragon to tortoise in seconds, but Éibhear had no idea why. Then, as he hovered there, confused, he heard it. The sound roaring toward him. He looked up and watched the wall of sand bearing down. He raised his gaze and realized that if he moved quickly, he could go far enough up and wait the sandstorm out.

  He lifted his snout, ready to shoot up, but he heard barking and again focused on the ground.

  That dog. That damn dog. He was barking at the Sand Eater’s protective shell. Barking and scratching and trying to chew a hole in it so he could get to Izzy.

  Éibhear knew he should let that damn dog be carried away by the storm. Carried away and never seen again. No more drool or smell or gas.

  And yet . . . and yet, Éibhear couldn’t stand the thought of Izzy’s broken heart. She loved that damn dog and he couldn’t just fly away and leave the big idiot to fend for himself against nature.

  So, while calling himself stupid the entire time, Éibhear dove toward the ground and that damn dog. He’d just scooped the beast up in his claw, his wings unfurling to take them both back out, when that wall of sand rammed into him and tossed him—while still holding that damn dog—around like a rag doll.

  Izzy was wondering where she was when the storm suddenly came. It sounded awful, but she was quite comfortable and dry and . . . and not alone.

  Izzy opened her eyes, one hand reaching out in front of her.

  “Your poor human eyes,” a voice from the darkness said. “Let me help you with that.” She heard what sounded like rock scraping against rock, saw a flicker, and then light. A small torch and a brown dragon with vibrant green eyes gazing down at her. He had that same bronze overlay to his color, sparkling even more in the dim light.

  “There,” he said. “That must be better.”

  Izzy looked around. “Where are we?”

  “You’re safe.”

  “Safe from what?”

  “Sandstorm. They happen out here all the time.” He rested his massive dragon head in the middle of his claw. “Gods, you’re beautiful for a human.”

  “At least you didn’t say delicious.”

  He laughed. “No. You’re safe with me.”

  “Safe with the dragon who kidnapped me?”

  “Rescued. There is a difference.”

  Izzy shook her head. As her mother always liked to say, Dragons and their bloody centaur-shit semantics.

  “Such a huge difference, too, between rescued and kidnapped.”

  “You’re safe, are you not?”

  “I don’t know you, and you definitely don’t know me. I don’t even know why you felt the need to ‘rescue’ me.”

  “I was sent to fetch you. To keep you safe from those nasty traitors.”

  “Traitors?”

  “To the great King Heru. He rules over these beautiful lands with an even and steady claw. But like your Southland queens, he does not brook traitors to his dominion.”

  “But why would he send anyone for me? How did he even know I was here?”

  “Our magi are powerful. They see much. Especially when the human granddaughter of Rhiannon the White is heading toward territorial lines.”

  Izzy sat up, resting her back against . . . well, against this dragon’s shell. “What does being the granddaughter of Rhiannon have to do with anything?”

  “You don’t know?”

  “I know I’m a general in Annwyl the Bloody’s army. My grandmother hasn’t had to babysit me in quite some time.”

  The dragon chuckled. “The Dragon Queen often seems as if she lets her offspring run wild and free, uncaring if they return to her alive or dead. But we, the other dragon kingdoms, understand quite well what her offspring do not.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “That the bitch is cruel and unforgiving. And if you really want to piss her off, allow one of her offspring to be harmed. So although you are merely a granddaughter and not blood, as you are clearly a child of this land, the other kingdoms are well aware of her affection for you.”

  “That’s quite sweet, but if it’s true, what about her son?”

  “Which one?”

  “The one who traveled with me. Did your powerful magi not tell you about him?”

  “Oh. The youngest male,” he sneered. “Yes. They were well aware.”

  “And?”

  “And what? He’s a Mì-runach. Not only would King Heru never let such a despicable beast into his court, we assume Éibhear the Contemptible can take care of himself. With that in mind, the only instruction I received was to retrieve you.” He smiled, bright white fangs gleaming in the dark space. “And I am so happy that I have.”

  “You won’t be for long, though,” she softly told him.

  “And why is that?”

  “Because I know my family.”

  “What does that—aaaaaahhhhh!”

  Izzy ducked her head, watching as the Sand dragon and his shell-like wings were flung away from her.

  “Comfortable?” Éibhear demanded, glaring down at her through all that sand in his hair.

  “You’re blaming me? I was kidnapped!”

  “Aye. You clearly look terrified!”

  He couldn’t believe this! He’d come all this way, saved that damn dog, and what did he find Lady Love-A-Dragon doing? Flirting! With a Sand Eater! Oh, the hypocrisy!

  Izzy got to her feet and proceeded to wipe sand off her tight ass. “Éibhear—”

  “Stay here,” he ordered her. “First I kill him and then we’ll discuss this.”

  “Discuss this? Discuss what?”

  Annoyed she was playing this game with him, Éibhear faced the Sand Eater and got a sword handle to the snout for his trouble.

  “Dammit!”

  Izzy laughed, hands on her hips.

  “Where’s the loyalty?” Éibhear demanded.

  “I don’t have any for such a whiny baby! And speaking of which . . . where’s me dog?”

  “Again with that bloody mongrel? You didn’t even ask about me!”

  “Well you’re standing here, aren’t you? You’re alive. Breathing, apparently. Whereas I don’t see my wonderful, loyal, non-whiny dog!”

  “Ungrateful female!”

  Izzy frowned and Éibhear immediately calmed down.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She suddenly looked down at the ground.

  “Izzy?”

  A dragon’s claw came up through the sand and wrapped around Izzy’s legs. With one pull, she was dragged down, disappearing under the sand.

  “Izzy!” Éibhear charged over to where she’d been standing. Her dog stood on the other side, accusing Éibhear with his eyes.

  “It’s not my fault!” Éibhear argued. “It’s not!”

  That damn dog didn’t seem to believe him and Éibhear wasn’t sure he did either.

  Snarling, he faced the Sand Eater who’d taken Izzy. He stalked over to him, ready to wring the truth out of the dragon, but with a little wave, the bastard suddenly disappeared under the sand, too.

  Éibhear roared. Even if he had to dig up the entire desert, he wouldn’t stop until—

  That damn dog barked and ran past Éibhear. Following him, Éibhear watched Macsen head straight to a sand dune. As soon as he got to it, he began to dig. Éibhear walked around once, curled his claw into a fist and rammed it into the dune. Instead of finding more sand, he found nothing. An open space.

  Using his tail, Éibhear picked up Macsen and held him tight before he pushed his way inside the dune and dove head-first into blackness.

  Desert Land Sand dragons, or Sand Eaters, as they were called among other dragon breeds, were unique among their kind. Not because their natural weapon was, actually, sand. But because of their scales. Or, really, scale. Unlike most dragon breeds, Sand dragons didn’t have multiple scales covering their vulnerable flesh. Not really surprising when one realized they spent most of their life in a sand-covered land. One of the most brutal tortures endured by other dragons was to have thei
r scales lifted and something sharp and painful placed beneath. So to be around sand all day, every day, would make life miserable for the Sand dragons if they had to keep ripping open their own scales to clean sand out from under them. Instead, their bodies had one smooth scale—like a shell. A shell that could split to create wings or encircle the dragon to protect him or her during a sandstorm.

  It was all quite fascinating and intriguing, but it was also why three of the Mì-runach—the mightiest and most feared of the Dragon Queen’s warriors—were currently huddled together like frightened hatchlings. Because what else could they do?

  Branwen the Awful stepped out of the cavern, her body covered in blood, and tossed the empty shell to the floor. The shell she’d systematically ripped off the back of one of the few Sand Eaters they’d bothered to capture rather than kill.

  “He told me nothing,” she said.

  Of course he hadn’t. The bastard had been too busy screaming.

  Aidan glanced at his friends, but both Caswyn and Uther shook their heads. Aidan, however, was made of stronger stuff than that. He cleared his throat and asked, “Anything else that could help us? The queen will want to know—”

  “I know. I know.” She snapped her talons. “Oh! There was something. I totally forgot with all that damn screaming.” She went back into the cavern. As one, the three mighty dragons leaned over and peeked inside, terrified at what they might witness but unable to help themselves.

  They shouldn’t have looked.

  Branwen slammed her claw into the back of the Sand Eater trying to crawl across the floor. Like any dragon without his shell, this one looked strange, all that blood unable to hide the fact that at the moment he was no better than a weak, defenseless human.

  “Give us your claw,” she ordered.

  “Kill me,” the Sand Eater begged. “Kill. Me.”

  “Stop whining.” She pulled her claw from his back and stomped on his forearm. She raised her axe and brought it down, smoothly hacking off his front claw. Picking that up, she came back out of the cavern.

  Without even saying a word, all three of them backed up. She didn’t seem to notice. Aidan had heard over the years that General Iseabail and Captain Branwen had spent more time than was good for them with the human queen, Annwyl, but it wasn’t until this moment that he realized the truth to that.