How to Drive a Dragon Crazy

by G. A. Aiken

  Izzy stepped in front of him. “Watch out for Macsen.”

  Did she really believe that he’d protect that dog before her? Actually, she probably knew that he wouldn’t, which was why she specifically told him to.

  The riders at the front reined their horses in, stopping dead in front of them. The others circled around back. Although where they thought Izzy and Éibhear would escape to, out here, in the middle of nowhere, Éibhear didn’t know.

  One of the lead riders barked something at them, but neither Izzy nor Éibhear understood him, so he tried again, this time speaking in the common language of these lands.

  “Who are you? Speak!”

  “Name’s Iseabail. This is my travel partner, Éibhear.”

  “What province do you come from? Who are your people?”

  “I’m not from here.”

  The soldiers looked her over. “You’re not?” the leader asked.

  “No.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “We’re heading to Sefu. I need to meet with the Nolwenns.”

  “You?” The men laughed.

  “Well, that’s where we’re going so if you’d just—”

  “You’re very well armed,” another soldier noted.

  “Just for safety.”

  “And him?” the leader asked, motioning to Éibhear.

  “My protection. A slow-witted mute, but he’s good at destroying things with his head.”

  Rude cow!

  The leader looked them over again, and Éibhear immediately knew that the man didn’t like what he saw. Probably a good decision, too, since they were lying.

  “We’ll escort you to Sefu.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “It is for us.”

  “In other words, we have no choice.”

  The leader smirked. “Not really.”

  Izzy looked over the bars on the cell door she was currently locked behind. “That went well.”

  She heard snoring and knew it was her dog. Bastard could sleep through anything. She faced Éibhear. “Don’t you think?”

  He pointed at his mouth, shook his head.

  Izzy rolled her eyes. “You take everything so bloody personally. I was only joking.”

  “Ha,” he said. “Ha. Ha.”

  “It was the slow-witted part, wasn’t it?”

  “What do you think?”

  “They’re very paranoid,” Izzy noted, looking back at the bars. “You are frightening to look at, but it seems a little unreasonable that your terrifying demeanor alone should get us thrown into a cell.”

  “Did you notice when we got here? The city gates had to be opened for them. I’d always heard Sefu was an open city, with visitors able to come and go as they please.”

  “They’re preparing for war?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Or maybe it’s all that civil unrest among the humans the salt mine commanders kept talking about.”

  “I guess it could be a lot of things, but I’m not sure it matters at the moment. I think there are bigger issues.” Izzy again faced Éibhear and motioned to the wall behind him. “Well . . . get to work.”

  Éibhear blinked. “Get to work doing what?”

  “Tear the wall down so we can go. I’m this close to finally meeting that treacherous bitch. I’m tired of waiting.”

  “They haven’t done anything to us, Izzy. At least not yet.”

  “So?”

  “So I’m not going to bring the prison down around their ears just so you can go confront some old cow.”

  “Where’s your loyalty?”

  “Where’s your rational military thought?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I can get us out of here, but that doesn’t mean I can destroy the entire city. At least not this city. Didn’t you look at the ramparts? They have those catapults that are built like giant crossbows. Something tells me those are for dragons that may attack the city. If you think I can handle those all on my own—”

  “Fine, fine.”

  “If you weren’t so obsessed with your grand—”

  “I’m not obsessed.”

  “When the guards come back, just tell them the truth. Tell them who you are. What you want. They obviously know you’re lying.”

  “Fine.”

  “It’s just a suggestion—”

  “Zazazaza!” Izzy waved her hands in Éibhear’s face to keep him quiet.

  “What was that noise you just made?”

  “Don’t irritate me.”

  “I’m not trying to irritate you, Izzy. You are just really tense. You’re expecting a fight and you haven’t even gotten one yet. So you’re looking at me for one.”

  “Well . . .” She shrugged. “You’re here.”

  When Éibhear laughed, she felt relief. She was tense and she was being a complete bitch to the easiest target. A big blue dragon. Targets really didn’t get easier than that. But it was unfair to him. Even after she’d told him what Rhydderch Hael had said to her, he hadn’t displayed one moment of anger toward her. Didn’t blame her for anything. Or tell her she should have told him about her talk with Rhydderch Hael when she was still with her army. Instead, he’d taken her and her dog—or “damn dog” to use his words—to the Desert Lands.

  So to quote Annwyl on more than one occasion during their time together as queen and squire, Izzy knew she needed to “Stop being a twat and remember who’s covering your plump ass.”

  “I’m sorry, Éibhear.”

  Éibhear blinked, not sure he’d heard correctly. “Huh?”

  “I said I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m very stressed and I’m taking it out on you. I shouldn’t be, and I’m sorry.”

  Looking around their cell, Éibhear asked again, “Huh?”

  “You.” Izzy turned away from him and toward the guard standing at the door. “You have visitors.”

  Soldiers came around the corner. Like the ones who’d picked them up in the desert, these soldiers wore light armor, but the female one at the front wearing a helm with a long horse’s mane coming from the top seemed to hold a higher rank.

  “Names,” one of the soldiers ordered.

  Any bit of progress Éibhear had made alleviating her stress vanished in the face of those orders. Izzy’s arms crossed under her chest and her foot began to tap. Never a good sign when dealing with Izzy.

  “I said names,” the soldier repeated.

  “Heard the first time. Amazing what politeness can get you, though.”

  The higher-ranking soldier motioned another forward. This one was more polite.

  “We need your names.”

  “I thought this was an open city,” Izzy countered. “I don’t understand—”

  “I’d prefer you just answer my questions. Quickly.”

  “Izzy,” Éibhear pushed. “Just answer him.” If things turned ugly, he could easily shift to dragon and kill them all. But these soldiers simply wanted to know who they were.

  The female officer’s eyes narrowed. “Thought you were mute.”

  Éibhear sighed. “Do you see what you started?” he asked Izzy, which only made her laugh. “Now you have to tell her.”

  “Fine. I’m General Iseabail of Queen Annwyl’s army.”

  “Annwyl? Annwyl the Bloody?” The female officer glanced at the others. “Lovely.”

  Éibhear caught hold of the back of Izzy’s shirt before she could reach through the bars and strangle the captain to death. If there was one thing Izzy never tolerated, it was anyone saying anything negative about Annwyl; her aunt was her one true blind spot.

  Oblivious to the danger, the polite soldier asked, “And why are you here, General?”

  “I want to meet with the Nolwenns.”

  “So do many others, but your queen should have come on her own.”

  “I’m not here for my queen. I’m here for myself.”

  The female officer gave a little snort. “Planning to overthrow your mad queen and hoping the Nolwenns wil
l help you because of the color of your skin?”

  Éibhear would always be grateful for the speed of his hands. Because he managed to pull Izzy away from that cell door before she gripped the bars and yanked them right out of the ceiling and floor they’d been imbedded in.

  And while she swung wildly and cursed, Éibhear explained, “The queen knows the general is here, but it has nothing to do with Queen Annwyl. The general’s people are from here originally.”

  “And who are her people?” the polite soldier asked.

  “She’s the daughter of Talaith.” Éibhear saw it out of the corner of his eye. The captain’s head lifted, tilting to the side.

  “Talaith?” the soldier asked.

  “Talaith, Daughter of Haldane,” Éibhear added.

  The officer finally stepped forward, pushing the males out of her way. She was a strong woman. Tall, powerfully built, a multitude of warrior braids and long feathers mixed in with her brown, curly hair. Éibhear had a hard time seeing her face, though, because of the nose guard on her helm.

  “Daughter of Haldane?” the officer asked.

  Éibhear pushed a struggling Izzy behind him. “You know Haldane?”

  The woman shook her head. “No. Not personally. Everyone knows the Nolwenns, though.”

  “Do you think you can help us get a meeting with them?”

  “I really don’t know.” She kept staring, trying to look around him, but Izzy was still behind him cursing and trying to pry his hand off so she could come out swinging.

  Éibhear shook her once to get her to focus.

  “What?” Izzy snapped, but hearing her speak without yelling or cursing, Éibhear pulled Izzy back around.

  “General Iseabail,” Éibhear said, “this is—”

  “Captain Layla,” the officer introduced herself.

  Izzy nodded. “Captain.”

  The captain stepped closer, looked Izzy over. “With us,” she finally said. “Please.”

  She walked off and one of the guards unlocked the cell door, pulling it open.

  Izzy glanced up at Éibhear. “Wherever you go,” he muttered.

  She nodded and headed out. Éibhear followed, but he glanced back at the dog, which was still snoring away. “Oy! Idiot! Let’s go.”

  The dog’s eyes opened, but he only stared at Éibhear without moving. Then Izzy whistled and the dog rolled off the cot to his feet and charged after his mistress.

  Disgusted, Éibhear followed them all, wondering where they were going—and what would happen when they got there.

  Chapter 33

  With soldiers surrounding them, they were walked out of the jail and through the city. Izzy had no idea where she was going, but she truly hoped it was to the Nolwenns. She longed to see that bitch so she could tell her how horrible she was before handing her sister over to her. Izzy still shuddered at that, giving her sister over to the Nolwenns, but what could she do?

  After about fifteen minutes of traveling through the city’s central market, they turned down a street and stopped in front of a building. The captain looked at her men. “You lot wait out here.”

  “Captain, you sure?”

  She nodded. “Yes.” She motioned to Izzy and Éibhear. “You two come with me.”

  Izzy looked at Macsen. “Wait here,” she told him. She didn’t try to bring the dog with her because she knew she’d have Éibhear with her inside and Macsen would warn her of any problems that came from the outside.

  The dog sat, tongue hanging out, already starting to drool. She stopped long enough to give him some water from her canteen, then went inside behind the captain.

  Izzy had barely gotten a few feet when she realized that she was in a home.

  “The Nolwenns are here?” she asked.

  “I can’t get you in to the Nolwenns. They have no interest in seeing me.”

  “Then what are we doing here?”

  The captain didn’t answer; she just kept walking through the house. It was a lovely place. Lots of white linen and comfortable furniture. And even though it was hot out on the streets, it was cool inside.

  After several minutes, they made it to the back of the home and into an open area with grass and a covering over the top made of more white linen and large, leafy trees. This outside area was filled with women, men, and children. The older women and men, plus the younger children, were dressed in loose-fitting clothing that covered and protected them from the sun. But the older teens and the adults wore the same light armor that the captain wore.

  “Mum’s home!” one of the children called out and several of them ran over to hug her.

  Another strong-looking, older female in armor stepped forward. “Who’ve you brought with you, Layla?”

  The captain took off her helm. “This is General Iseabail from Dark Plains. One of Queen Annwyl’s generals.”

  Suddenly looking very concerned, the older woman demanded, “Why is she here?”

  “I thought you should meet properly. General Iseabail, this is my mother, General Maskini. She is commander of the city’s army.”

  Izzy frowned, her gaze moving off.

  “What is it?” Éibhear whispered.

  “Feel like I’ve heard that name before.”

  “And Mum,” Captain Layla continued, “this is Iseabail, Daughter of Talaith. Who is Daughter of Haldane.”

  Everything in that small area seemed to stop, all eyes focusing on Izzy. Part of her wanted to back up, but as a soldier of the Blood Queen’s army, she would never yield. So Izzy stood her ground and asked, “Is my mother your enemy?”

  General Maskini walked up to Izzy, stared at her for several long moments, until, finally, she burst into tears.

  The general’s sobs were so great, she stumbled and Éibhear immediately caught her in his arms. He took her to a chair and lowered her into it.

  An elderly woman made her way through the staring people in the backyard. Éibhear noticed that she had the same eyes as many of the others. The same as Izzy’s eyes. Talaith had always said that Izzy had her father’s eyes. Light brown and intense . . . just like her.

  The elderly woman clutched her hands together. “Your name is . . .” She cleared her throat, tried again. “Your name is Iseabail?”

  “Aye. My kin call me Izzy.”

  “Your kin?”

  “My family.”

  “A family of your blood?”

  “No. My mother . . .” She struggled for the right word. “She married my father. I was adopted by his family.” She pointed at Éibhear. “That’s my uncle.”

  And Éibhear tried not to panic when all those male eyes focused on him with clear hostility. He hadn’t even touched Izzy. Hadn’t done anything to suggest . . . and yet they knew, didn’t they? Males always knew.

  “So you never met your birth father?”

  “No.” Izzy began to wipe her hands on her leggings. One of the signs that she was nervous. Éibhear hadn’t seen her do that in ages. Not since her mother had confronted her about Rhydderch Hael and the brand he’d burned into her arm. “My mother said he died before I was born.”

  “Do you know his name?”

  Izzy closed her eyes and repeated what her mother had most likely told her a very long time ago, “Sethos, son of . . . son of . . .” She cleared her throat. “Son of Maskini.”

  The elderly woman reached out and took Izzy’s hands in her own. “And grandson of Zarah. Most beloved grandson, my dearest Iseabail. Most beloved.”

  Izzy gazed at the woman holding her hands. But suddenly, abruptly, she pulled away. “I’m . . . I’m sorry. I just . . . I just can’t.”

  Shocked, Éibhear watched her as she fled back inside the house.

  “Izzy!” He got up to go after her, but Zarah stopped him, her hand resting against his forearm.

  “Give her a minute. I know this can’t be easy for her.”

  The woman had absolutely no idea.

  Izzy ran through the house, but it was large and long and before she knew it, s
he had no idea how to get out again. Desperate, she realized that at the very least, she wanted a quiet space to get control of herself.

  She went down a hallway but saw two of the soldiers who’d escorted her and Éibhear here.

  Unwilling to let any soldiers see her like this, Izzy went through the first door she found and quickly closed it, both hands pressing into the wood, her body leaning forward. And that’s when the tears came. She tried to stop them, but she simply couldn’t. Even worse, she chanted what she’d chanted the first time she was caught in a burning building during a battle and couldn’t find her way out, “Mum . . . gods, Mum . . .”

  “Don’t let her do that to you.”

  Startled, Izzy spun around, her back against the door. “Sorry, I . . .”

  “My daughter is only tough on the ones she thinks have some promise.”

  Izzy shook her head. “No, I—”

  “It’s all right. I won’t tell her I saw a thing. Take a moment, catch your breath.”

  The man appeared to be in his sixtieth winter or so, his grey hair cut very short, his arms bulging with muscles. He had a sword in his hand and she realized he was a blacksmith and this was his workshop. She’d managed to step outside again, the house going from out to in and back again like a lovely maze.

  Izzy wiped her face with her palms and stepped farther inside. The weapons were beautiful things. Lots of curved swords and gold and steel daggers, many adorned with jewels. Unlike the weapons that were popular in Dark Plains, these appeared ornamental, but Izzy knew weapons and these were as deadly as they were beautiful. They reminded Izzy of the weapons Annwyl wore during family parties and important events, given to her by Fearghus.

  “Your work is beautiful,” Izzy said.

  “Thank you.”

  She pointed at one of the swords. “May I?”

  “If you’d like.”

  She picked up one of the bigger swords and marveled at the lightness of it. Throwing herself into the safety of what she knew—battle and war and weapons—Izzy walked over to a clear area and lifted the sword. She gave a few practice swings, not sure if she’d like to work with these curved swords. But it was always nice to test out other weapons, to see what different armies used.