G A Aiken Dragon Bundle

by G. A. Aiken

  The entire Valley rumbled, cutting off Ragnar’s words.

  “Ragnar?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. I—” Ragnar braced his claw against the wall, the first explosion rocking everything around them. Then the second explosion came and the third. The pair watched as the Polycarp Mountains began to fall, one after the other, after the other. Until there was nothing but dust, dirt, and level ground. Now there was nothing separating them from the Irons. It would be a straight, head-on battle. Irons against Northlanders and Fire Breathers.

  “Get all our troops up here, now.”

  Meinhard nodded, turned to go. But one of the Fire Breathers ran toward him.

  “Meinhard! Coming from behind. Sovereigns.”

  “They’re closing in around us,” Ragnar murmured. “Any sign of Annwyl’s army?”

  “Scouts just got back. They’re coming in from the Eastern Pass, moving fast, but they don’t know about all this.”

  “They’ll find out soon enough.” He looked at Meinhard. “We’ll let Annwyl’s army deal with the humans. And I want everyone who’s in that bloody tunnel out. Now.”

  Meinhard nodded. “Done. And Annwyl’s troops?”

  “We hope they get here before it’s too late. Now go, cousin,” Ragnar ordered as they both heard the sound of advancing Irons. “Because we’ve just run out of time.”

  Brastias rode along beside his troops, using the Eastern Pass as Morfyd had suggested. They’d made good time this way, but still, the men were restless. Not simply because they wanted this fight over with, but because they hadn’t seen Annwyl. The fear and gossip that the queen had deserted her troops was spreading through the ranks. Although how any of them could believe that she’d desert them out of fear or boredom or some monarch pique, did nothing but make Brastias very angry. So angry that he’d had anyone spreading those rumors flogged for insubordination.

  True, Annwyl had left them, but not because she’d run away. No. Not his Annwyl. She’d done something even more stupid. She’d gone right into the enemy’s den. But what she was facing there, he had no idea.

  Brastias’s horse, a veteran of many battles like his rider, suddenly reared up, only Brastias’s skill keeping him seated. Then almost all of the horses reared or backed up, colliding into the horses behind them, the ground beneath them shaking and shuddering.

  “Earthquake?” Danelin, Brastias’s second in command, asked.

  “No. I don’t think so. It’s something else.” The rumbling continued on, the land beneath them rolling. Until, finally, it stopped. “It’s begun,” he said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Aye. I’m sure.”

  Brastias turned to two of his messengers. When they were on the march, it was these mounted soldiers who spread commands when time was short.

  “We cut off on that path up ahead, then we cut the Sovereign snake in half. Now go!”

  “You sure the Sovereigns are already in the Western Pass?”

  “The Irons wouldn’t move until they were. They’re there, and we’re going to kill them all.”

  “And Annwyl?”

  “I’ve never doubted her before, Danelin,” he said, spurring his horse to a gallop. “I won’t start now.”

  As Vigholf made his way to the gate, he wasn’t surprised to see the Rebel King walking through. He was in human form, the hood of his cape covering his face, but it was him.

  While the royal’s gaze searched the panicked crowd, Vigholf carefully pulled his sister off his shoulder and carried her in his arms to the Iron.

  “King Gaius.”

  The king turned and saw his sister. First, he seemed stunned. Unable to do anything but stare. But as Vigholf moved closer, the king reached for her and took her into his arms.

  “Agrippina?” He dropped down to one knee, cradling his sister. “Aggie?”

  The royal opened her eyes, reached up, and pressed her palm to his cheek. “Gaius.”

  The king laid his forehead against his sister’s. “Aggie, I’m so sorry.”

  “No. Don’t. You apologize for nothing.” She turned her head, looked over at the city she’d just left behind. “It was her. I want her.”

  “Our army is right outside this gate. One word—”

  “She’s gone. Slithering snake that she is. She’s slithered away. We could burn the city to the ground and we won’t find her.”

  “Then I’m getting you out of here.”

  He stood and carried his sister out of the castle gates.

  To be honest, Vigholf didn’t think much about it until Annwyl ran up to him a few minutes later. “Where’s the royal?”

  “Her brother took her.”

  “They’re gone?”

  “Well—”

  Snarling, she ran off after them.

  “Annwyl!” When the royal didn’t stop, he looked over his shoulder at the still-battling females. “Rhona, come on!”

  He didn’t wait, assured they could take care of themselves. It was the lunatic he was concerned about.

  Vigholf followed, catching up to Annwyl as she cleared a hill. On the other side stood King Gaius’s army. And they were, in a word, vast.

  “You promised!” Annwyl was saying to Gaius’s back.

  The king stopped and slowly faced the Southland queen. “I’m not leaving my sister.”

  “You wouldn’t have your sister if it wasn’t for us.”

  “What’s she talking about, Gaius?” Lady Agrippina asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “You promised!” Annwyl insisted.

  “You’re irritating me again.”

  “I don’t care.”

  The king’s sister motioned to the ground. “Put me down, Gaius.”

  “You’re not well enough—”

  “Don’t argue or we’ll be here all damn day. Just put me down.”

  Gaius put his sister on the ground but kept an arm around her waist, letting her lean against him while Varro covered her naked body with a cape.

  “Now tell me,” she ordered. And it was an order.

  “You!”

  A hand gripped his tail and Nannulf was tossed back and into the side of a mountain, moving the mass several feet. “Worthless little beast dog! How dare you interfere with my people!”

  The wolf got to his paws and bared his fangs. He didn’t like most other gods, but he especially didn’t like this one. Chramnesind, the sightless one. An angry demon god whose only desire was to become the one and only god everyone worshipped. The only one everyone turned to when in need.

  Something that Nannulf found completely unacceptable! “Do you think you’re stronger than me, dog? Do you think you can really stop me?”

  Nannulf didn’t know, but he was always willing to try. He charged Chramnesind but even without eyes, the bastard still saw well enough, and he was fast. He caught Nannulf by the throat, slammed him to the ground, and held him there.

  “It’s too late,” Chramnesind told him. “It’s much too late. Without your help, they’ll never get there in time and Thracius will destroy them. But you . . . you will pay for what you did to my mage. He was mine! Mine!”

  A sword slid under Chramnesind’s chin and a soft voice asked, “What do you think you’re doing to my friend?”

  Chramnesind hissed, his tongue—a forked one—slashing across Eirianwen’s cheek, flesh burning.

  Eir, the goddess of war, reached down and grabbed Chramnesind by his throat, lifting him to his feet.

  “You,” she snarled, “dare challenge me?”

  Chramnesind pulled his sword and slammed it into Eir’s belly. They both looked down as her guts poured to the ground.

  And that’s when Eir pulled back her arm and shot-putted the demon god away from her.

  “From my sight, you worthless bag of flesh!” she roared, her voice booming across the land. “Or I will wipe your existence from this world!”

  Chramnesind hissed at them again and dug into the ground, disappearing under the
dirt.

  Eir took in several breaths to get control of her rage; then she faced Nannulf.

  “And you . . . what the fuck were you thinking?”

  Nannulf shrugged.

  “I protected you from Rhy, you know. Lied to him! Told him I had no idea where you were or what you were up to. But he’ll know now, I can promise you that, because everyone will tell him. Och! And don’t look at me like that. This is all your fault and you know it. You should have stayed out of it!” Eir spun away from him and marched off. “Well, come on, you idiot! Let’s see if we can fix this!”

  “You promised!” Annwyl said again while she and Izzy removed their ogre-blood-splattered tunics and army sandals and put on their own clothes.

  “Would you stop saying that!”

  “What did you promise?” the king’s sister asked again, but it was Annwyl who answered.

  “He promised me that he’d help me defeat Thracius.”

  “Thracius?” Lady Agrippina leaned back a bit and studied Annwyl. “You’re the Southland Queen? You’re Annwyl?” Her nose wrinkled. “You?”

  “What were you expecting?” Annwyl demanded, tugging on her boots.

  “From what I’d heard . . . someone hideous.”

  Annwyl smiled. “Awww. Thanks.” Then she frowned. “Wait. You heard I was hideous?”

  “Annwyl?” Rhona pushed, hoping to get her to focus. Gods, she was as bad as Izzy. But at least Izzy had youth and inexperience as her excuse.

  “I’m not leaving my sister,” the king said again.

  “Yes,” Lady Agrippina told her brother. “You are.”

  “Aggie—”

  She stepped away from her brother, but she was still weak. Still unable to stand on her own. Rhona caught hold of her, held her up. The She-dragon nodded at her in thanks. She was much more polite when her brother was around, it seemed.

  “You have to go, Gaius.”

  “You can’t even stand. How do you expect me to leave you now?”

  “Because this is our chance. To end this. To end him.”

  The earth around them shook, and Rhona realized that Vigholf had moved a boulder close so that Lady Agrippina could sit. He smiled at Rhona, quite proud of himself and she knew in that moment—she loved him.

  Lady Agrippina sat on the boulder, and gave Vigholf a nod of thanks. Then she focused again on her brother.

  “I want him dead,” she said plainly. “And I want you to do it. At the very least be there to see it.”

  “I won’t leave you here alone, and you’re not fit to travel.”

  “Leave a battalion with me for protection. Take the rest. I want this done, brother. I want Thracius. And then, when I’m ready, that little twat he spawned is mine.” She glanced at Annwyl. “Besides, we owe her.” She grinned. “She killed Junius.”

  Gaius, stunned, looked at Annwyl. “You did?”

  “The wolf told me to.”

  King Gaius frowned. “The wolf that licked your head?”

  Vigholf stood next to her and said low so only Rhona could hear, “I never know how that head-licking thing is supposed to help us.”

  “That’s because it doesn’t help us.”

  “It will take us days to get there,” Gaius argued, but Aggie didn’t want to hear it.

  “I don’t care if it takes you eons. I want Thracius’s head!”

  “Aggie . . .”

  “I’m all right, I’m all right.” She tried to control her breathing, tried to calm down. She was running out of energy and fighting with her brother wasn’t helping. When she felt she could speak without panting, Aggie raised her head. “Look—” she began, but then the woman appeared out of nothing and, at first, Aggie thought she was seeing things again. Since her time in that slit’s dungeon, she’d been seeing lots of things. Some good, some a nightmare. To be honest, she enjoyed the nightmares more. It took a little more out of her every time she realized that blur walking toward her was not her brother or Varro.

  Yet Aggie quickly realized that the woman walking toward them this time wasn’t a hallucination because everyone else was staring at her, too.

  She was brown of skin, like one of Aggie’s rescuers and like the humans of the Desert Lands. She was dressed like a warrior and wounded like one, too. Wounded like a dead warrior, though.

  “Annwyl the Bloody,” the woman said to the human queen.

  Annwyl pointed at the woman’s stomach. “Did you realize that someone disemboweled you?”

  “That’ll heal,” she said, walking around Annwyl. “My traveling companion says you need to get somewhere quickly. I can help with that.”

  A god. This woman was a god. They were chatting with a god. Things certainly had become interesting since Aggie had been rescued from her incarceration.

  “Could you at least tuck your organs away?” Annwyl complained.

  “You kill things all day.”

  “But I don’t stand around talking to them afterward, their guts pouring out while I do.”

  “So sensitive.”

  Annwyl rubbed her eyes. “I’m tired. I’m very tired.” Now that battling the city guards was over, the Southland queen did look tired. Exhausted. Aggie knew that kind of exhaustion.

  “Yes. I see that.” The god studied Annwyl. “Too tired for this?”

  Annwyl brought her fists down. “I will end this. But I can’t do it from here. Send me or piss off. I’m tired of talking. Or send the wolf to deal with me. I like the wolf. He doesn’t bore me with talk.”

  The god crossed her arms over her chest, leaving that gaping wound even more exposed. “I saved your life once. You could be a little more respectful.”

  “You saved my life after your mate took it. And that was after he used my mate to knock me up without our permission. So don’t look to me for respect. I’m tired of you. I’m tired of him. I just want this over with. So send us or don’t—but just. Stop. Talking.”

  While the god and Southlander glared at each other, Aggie looked to her brother. “This is who you sent to rescue me?” A lunatic who argues with gods? she finished in his mind.

  “I’d run out of ideas, all right?” He shrugged helplessly. “Cut me some slack.”

  “You think you can win against Thracius?” the god asked.

  “I think I’m willing to kill anything in my way.” The human queen tipped her head to the side. “Are you in my way?”

  “Perhaps. So let me move out of your way.” And with a flick of the god’s wrist—Annwyl the Bloody was gone.

  They were evacuating the tunnel, nearly out the exit, when it started again. The arguing. Always with the bloody arguing. And, as she’d been doing since Rhona left, Nesta’s sister Edana got between the two idiots along with poor Austell. The arguing this time, though, was more vicious, more physical. Like it was before Rhona threatened both Éibhear and Celyn. Maybe they knew the war was almost over. Knew they wouldn’t have much more time to fight because all of them would insist the pair was separated. For their own good and the good of others.

  Éibhear caught hold of Celyn by his breastplate, yanking him close, and slamming his fist into the dragon’s face. Nesta looked at Breena and her sister could only roll her eyes and shake her head.

  Austell, clearly fed up with all of them, pushed himself between the pair, slamming his claws against their chests.

  It was what had been happening a lot. There was only one difference this time—the human who suddenly appeared in the middle of all this. And Nesta didn’t mean Izzy and the proverbial wedge she’d shoved between the cousins. But an actual, living, breathing human.

  Nesta and Breena looked at each other and then back at the human. They leaned in a little closer.

  “Annwyl?” Breena asked.

  The human queen looked around, snarled as only Annwyl could, and roared, “That bitch!”

  They pushed the Irons back again, but Briec stopped. Looked around. Something wasn’t right. A trap? He turned in a circle, using his tail to bat off any Irons wh
o got too close.

  He expected some attack to come at them from either flank, but there was nothing. But still, the Irons were being pushed back too easily. Perhaps another attack with their siege weapons?

  “Hold!” he called out to his troops. Then, to his brothers, “Fearghus! Gwenvael!” He motioned to them with his shield. “Pull back. Now!”

  Fearghus responded immediately, but Gwenvael was impatient. “Why?” he demanded. “We’ve got them.”

  “Don’t be an idiot,” Fearghus snapped. “They’re pulling us away from here.”

  “But—”

  “Do you want to take a little longer to return to your mate, or do you want to go back to her without important parts of you intact?”

  Gwenvael didn’t even have to think on that. He began moving back, calling his troops with him.

  And, instead of retreating, the Irons again moved forward. They attacked again. But what they were trying to lure them from, Briec really didn’t know.

  “No! ” Izzy bellowed, jumping forward to where Annwyl had been.

  Rhona caught her, held the girl in her arms while they all gawked at the spot the human queen once stood in.

  “Bring her back.” Izzy pulled away from Rhona and faced the goddess.

  “You think you can order me to—”

  “Bring her back!”

  “So much emotion,” the god chastised. “I see why I like dealing with Dagmar more.”

  And then the god was gone.

  “No!” Izzy screamed again.

  “You have to go after her,” Lady Agrippina ordered her brother. “There’s no arguing over this.”

  “It’ll take us days to get to Euphrasia. By then . . .” King Gaius shook his head, glanced over at Izzy, whose roar of pain was so gut-wrenching that no one could look at her for long.

  “Rhona,” Vigholf said in a low voice. He jerked his head and Rhona looked in front of them. It was a wolf. A wolf just sitting there. An enormous, freakishly sized wolf, but a wolf nonetheless.

  Vigholf shrugged. “A wolf licked her head and made her feel better. He’s a wolf.”