Feel the Burn

by G. A. Aiken

  “Do you want to tell her the problem, granddaughter?” Rhiannon asked Talwyn.

  “Nope.”

  And that’s what Dagmar loved about her niece. She didn’t know anyone more straightforward.

  “She’s been using Talwyn behind your back,” Rhiannon accused.

  Talwyn let out an annoyed sigh. “No. She hasn’t.”

  “Sending you out to fetch the eyes of Chramnesind? Like one of Dagmar’s dogs?”

  “My dogs don’t fetch.”

  Rhiannon waved at Dagmar to shut her up.

  “That’s not even close to what happened,” Talwyn replied, putting down her weapons and reaching for a carafe of water. She poured a chalice full and handed it to her mother. Then poured one for herself.

  “Then what did happen?”

  Talwyn glanced at Annwyl and the queen shrugged. “Might as well tell her now. Before she tears the house apart in one of her tantrums.”

  “I don’t have tantrums. I have fierce rage.”

  “I didn’t find anything out from Mingxia. It was from Brigida.”

  “Brigida told you?”

  “No. We just . . . got it.”

  “We?” Talaith’s eyes narrowed. “You mean you, Talan, and Rhi?”

  “Things come to us. We hear things. It’s not a big deal.”

  “It is,” Rhiannon insisted. “It could change everything.”

  “How?” Dagmar asked.

  “Any talisman from a god is powerful. Especially something stolen. If these things fall into the wrong claws—”

  “They won’t.”

  “You are the wrong claws, my dear.”

  “I’m aware, Grandmother,” Talwyn shot back and even Dagmar could tell she was a bit hurt. “Which is why the three of us aren’t going after it. We sent someone else. Someone with no magicks in her blood.”

  That’s when everyone looked at Dagmar.

  “I don’t fetch either,” Dagmar reminded them all.

  “Not Dagmar. We needed a warrior. And although she has a warrior’s heart, Auntie Dagmar was panting running after Grandmum.”

  “She has very long legs!”

  “We sent Kachka Shestakova,” Talwyn said.

  “You sent the Scourge of the Gods after this . . . thing?”

  “It seems fitting.”

  “Dear Kachka Shestakova is the Scourge of the Gods?” the Rider called Nika asked. “How impressive for her! If her mother were not dead, killed by you, Mad Queen, she would be so proud!”

  Rhiannon’s entire body tensed. “Who are they?” she asked, pointing a damning finger at the three outsiders.

  “They are three Riders who have come to follow me into battle so that they may have an honorable death.”

  “You have suicidal Riders hanging around you now?”

  “There is no honor in suicide!”

  “Again, you are talking to me, giant woman! And I thought Bercelak said we forced the giants underground!”

  “Mother,” Morfyd admonished.

  “Can we all just be calm?” Dagmar finally asked.

  “You don’t understand—”

  “Rhiannon, I understand that your three oldest grand offspring are no longer children. They’re adults and they’re part of the game now.” Dagmar walked over to her niece, stared up at her. She was a little taller than Annwyl. But not by much. “I’m sure Talwyn is doing what’s best for the family.”

  “And if this doesn’t work?” Morfyd asked, her voice quiet.

  “Then we’ll have a bigger fight than we were planning on.” Annwyl gestured back toward the house. “So if you don’t mind . . . my daughter and I have work to do.”

  With Annwyl effectively ending the conversation, all Rhiannon could do was snarl before stomping off, Morfyd and Talaith following behind her.

  Dagmar looked over at the three Riders. “Could you please excuse us?”

  “No,” Nika replied.

  Dagmar’s dogs, glaring at the Riders, began to growl even though Dagmar hadn’t said a word.

  “Get something to eat,” Annwyl ordered, and without question, the Riders did as she bade.

  “When you go off to battle, they will be going with you, yes?” Dagmar asked, nearly pleaded.

  Annwyl laughed. “I promise.”

  “One of them,” Talwyn whispered, “took down a male elk with her bare hands. I thought she was hungry . . . but she was just playing with it. The way I like to play with your dogs.”

  Dagmar looked up at her friend. “Annwyl—”

  “I know.”

  The friends gazed at each other for a long moment until Dagmar finally asked, “What exactly are you thinking?”

  Annwyl glanced at Talwyn and her daughter nodded. “I’m thinking . . . we can’t wait around for Salebiri to come to us. Not anymore.”

  “I think you’re right. I’ve been working with Brastias. Quietly. No need to make everyone panic.”

  Annwyl smirked—knowing that neither was speaking of the common people but their own kin—and reached out, grasping Dagmar’s forearm. “You do understand I can’t do this without you. Knowing you’re keeping my people safe here.”

  Dagmar swallowed, shocked by the admission. “I’ll make sure everything is ready when you are.” She cleared her throat. “What about Rhiannon?”

  “Let her focus on this Eyes of . . . whatever. Work with Bercelak and Celyn. They’ll make sure their troops are ready.”

  “All right.”

  “And we’re okay?”

  “As long as you stop taking baths in the freezing-cold lake water . . . I’m sure we’ll be just fine.”

  Annwyl stomped her foot. “I knew that bothered you!”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “The thing to remember,” Aidan told them as they neared his childhood home on horseback a few hours before sunset, “is that they are horrible, reprehensible, detestable beings and should be treated carefully. Like poisonous snakes.”

  Kachka frowned. “We still speak of the dwarves?”

  “No,” he replied. “My family. The dwarves are a whole other issue.”

  “You talk about your family that way, handsome dragon?” Zoya asked.

  “Well, they’re not like, let’s say, Brannie’s family. Are the Cadwaladrs rude and abrupt with no social etiquette whatsoever? Absolutely. But they are also direct and honest, to the point of absurdity. My kin? They smile and embrace you as one of their own while they stick a dagger in your back and steal the gold from your fangs. Never forget that, any of you, no matter how much they may smile. In fact, the more they smile, the farther you should move away from them. If they all start laughing as if they’re having the best time? Find the nearest exit and run for your lives.”

  “I am just adoring this plan,” Gaius grumbled.

  “I have no plan,” Kachka reminded him, enjoying the way he glared at her.

  “I am keenly aware of that, and I have to admit, it greatly disappoints me.”

  “Also,” Aidan went on, “if you truly expect any help from them, plan to barter. There’s always a price to pay in my father’s territories.”

  “These are the Dragon Queen’s territories,” Brannie reminded him.

  “You keep thinking that and see where it gets you, Captain.”

  Kachka didn’t know what to expect when she arrived at Aidan the Divine’s home. She’d never come this far before because Salebiri’s fanatics had stayed far away from this area. Now that they neared the lands, she understood why.

  The territorial lines that divided Annwyl’s lands from that of the Western Horse Riders went from soft grasslands covered in rushing rivers and peaceful lakes to harsh marshlands in the blink of an eye.

  No wonder Annwyl didn’t try to claim any of this territory as her own. If it weren’t for the slaves the Western Riders insisted upon having—and selling—Kachka doubted that the queen would bother with anyone in this region unless she was specifically called upon.

  It wasn’t that it was ugly l
and. It wasn’t. But it was dark and foreboding. The air thick, the land soft, the vegetation overwhelming.

  This would be a harsh place to fight any war.

  Their horses, unused to such muddy terrain, were miserable before they’d traveled more than a few hours, but Aidan brought their party to a stable where they could leave their horses until they were ready to return.

  Once their horses were tended to, they set off on foot. But it was difficult going. So difficult, even Zoya stayed silent, focusing on where she stepped and how deep she might sink in.

  Aidan was more surefooted, and they followed him, finally forming a single line rather than spreading out.

  It was nearing suns-down when Aidan finally said, “Up here.”

  They followed him up a very small hill and when they reached the top, Kachka had to admit her surprise at what she saw.

  They’d reached the very edge of the Western Mountains and jutting from them was a beautiful castle made entirely from mountain rock.

  “My great grandfather and a few dragon stonemasons built this right from the mountain. Took them several years but well worth it.”

  “I can’t believe you left,” Brannie said.

  Aidan chuckled and began his descent down the hill. “When you meet my family, Branwen the Awful, you’ll understand that I had very little choice in the matter.”

  The armor gleamed. The soldiers stood ready. Dragons in human form guarded the front. Dragons in their natural form, but still in full armor, flew around the castle walls.

  A swampy moat circled the front of the building, and Gaius was sure that there was something in there ready to eat whatever was thrown in.

  The drawbridge was already down, but a line of guards stood ready on both sides.

  “Very well protected,” Gaius murmured to Aidan.

  “My father,” he replied, “is very . . . concerned with the safety of his lands.”

  “Does he fear attack from Sovereigns?”

  “From everyone.”

  They moved through the lines of dragons, each soldier dropping to his knees as Aidan passed.

  “They treat you like a king,” Brannie noted.

  “No. They treat me like a prince. My father they treat like a king.”

  Gaius knew that would be something that truly bothered Rhiannon. It wasn’t just loyalty she relied on, but the respect that went along with being a born queen. She didn’t take it for granted, and she wouldn’t ignore someone else being treated like the ruler of her lands.

  But Gaius would have to figure out how to give her that information at a later date.

  They passed through the gateway, over a bridge, and when Gaius glanced over the side, he saw something sliding through the murky water beneath. They moved through the courtyard, filled with still more soldiers, and to the castle proper.

  As they entered, even Gaius had to admit he was impressed. He’d thought nothing could parallel the palaces and villas of his home, but this place did manage to rival them. Everything, save for the wood furniture, was cut from the stone mountain. The walls, the floors, the balconies, the rooms, the stairs and banisters. But nothing was plain. No, intricate depictions of battles of old were cut into the stone. And after one passed the large front hall, it was all deep passages and caverns for dragons in their natural form to disappear into.

  The whole thing was astounding, and Gaius admired the work that must have gone into it.

  “Wait here,” Aidan ordered before disappearing deep into the caverns.

  While they stood, waiting, Gaius noticed that the only one who had a hand on her weapon was Brannie. He had to admit, he found that odd. The House of Foulkes de chuid Fennah was still part of Rhiannon’s queendom, and Aidan’s father would risk much by losing that connection. Not only would he have to deal with the Cadwaladrs coming here and crushing his forces in the queen’s name, but then he’d have to worry about Gaius and his sister sending a few legions to help out. Even if Gaius and Rhiannon weren’t allies, it was still a dangerous game to play because neither of them would allow the Foulkes de chuid Fennahs to keep these lands as their own. It was too important a territory for that.

  And yet . . . he didn’t mind that Brannie was feeling her most distrustful. That would definitely work in their favor. He was sure that not only did Branwen the Awful have her mother’s eyes . . . she had her battle instincts. Especially since she seemed to have gotten very little of Bram the Merciful’s peacemaking talents.

  “Oh! We have guests. How wonderful!”

  The She-dragon came down the stairs in human form, a gown of gold covering her from neck to feet. Her gold hair reached the entire length of her long back until it trailed behind her like a wedding veil.

  She was stunning despite her age.

  But those eyes. Some things could not be hidden and those eyes revealed all.

  “I am Lady Gormlaith of the House of Foulkes de chuid Fennah, and who may all of you be?”

  “Lady,” Brannie said with a slight head nod. “I am Branwen the Awful, Captain in the Dragon Queen’s Army. Daughter of Ghleanna the Decimator and Bram the Merciful.”

  “Ah, yes, Captain. I am well aware of your name. I’ve heard much about you over the years. But why are you here?”

  “I’m escorting King Gaius Lucius Domitus along with your son Ai—”

  “King Gaius!” Hand against her chest, Gormlaith pushed past a startled Brannie and held out her hand. “How delightful to meet you!”

  Gaius took the hand offered and kissed the back of it. “And you as well, Lady Gormlaith.”

  “Oh, please. Just call me Gormlaith. And tell me you’re spending the night. I’d hate for you to run away too soon.”

  “If you can accommodate us all, I’d love to stay.”

  Those dead, cold eyes flickered over to the others. Her nose lifted the tiniest bit, but Gaius wasn’t sure which disgusted the royal more. The Outerplains Riders being in her beautiful home . . . or the Mì-runach. Or maybe it was just having a Cadwaladr here, since the royals had little use for what they’d oh so affectionately termed “the pit dogs of Southland dragons.”

  “Well, of course. I’m sure we can find them something.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Let me get a few servants to help you and we’ll get you settled. Then we’ll have to have a feast in your honor and you can meet my offspring and we can talk. Won’t that be fun?”

  Gaius gave his best lying smile. “Delightful.”

  Gormlaith clapped her hands, and fast-moving but very put-upon human servants rushed into the main hall.

  When they neared the Riders, ready to take their fur capes and weapons, Kachka held up a blocking hand. “No, sheep.”

  It was rude, but it did get her point across.

  Gormlaith’s eyes locked on Kachka and she forced her own lying smile. “Hello. And you are?”

  Kachka stared at her. “I am what?”

  Gaius briefly closed his eye, trying desperately not to laugh. Kachka had been around the Southlanders long enough to know exactly what Gormlaith was asking her; she was just being difficult. Because she could.

  “This is Kachka Shestakova,” Gaius began and he kept going, through each and every long-winded Outerplains name ever invented. If he thought he could get away with it, he’d have added more to their names just to see how long it took his fellow royal to snap.

  Unlike Queen Rhiannon and her offspring, Gormlaith held out for the entire length of introductions, never once interrupting or complaining.

  To be honest, Gaius was a little disappointed. He honestly preferred Keita the Viper’s snarled “shut up with all that shit!” before she flounced away in her flowing dress and bare feet.

  When he was finished, Brannie gazed at him, as if she couldn’t believe he’d bothered, while the two Mì-runach appeared half asleep.

  “Well,” the lady said when Gaius was finished, “it’s lovely to have representatives of the Outerplains among us.”

  “Is it no
t?” Zoya asked. Loudly. “Everyone loves when Zoya comes!”

  “Because there is usually grunting,” Kachka whispered to him.

  Gaius snorted and Gormlaith’s eyes locked on him. “Yes, well . . . just follow the servants to your rooms. We’ll send up water for baths and something to tide you over until the feast.”

  “Where’s Aidan?” Brannie asked.

  “Who?”

  “Your son?”

  “Oh, I have no idea. In the Northlands, I suppose. Are you a friend of his?”

  “He brought us here. He went off that way,” she added, pointing toward the caverns.

  “Oh. Did he?” There was that lying smile again. “How lovely. It’s been too long since he’s come home.” She gestured to the human servants, prompting them to follow. “Just let them know if you need anything else.”

  As they walked up the stone stairs, Brannie leaned over to Gaius and whispered, “Don’t stray too far away from my side, Gaius.”

  “Even while I bathe?” Gaius teased, then he immediately cringed. “Some days you really do look like your mother. Especially when you glare at me like that.”

  Aidan had his second oldest brother on his back and his sword over his head. He had every intention of impaling the bastard right through that thick skull of his, but his mother walked into the cavern before he could.

  “You bring the king of the Quintilian Sovereigns Empire here and you don’t give me any warning whatsoever?” she snapped.

  “And hello to you, too, Mother. Long time, no—”

  “Shut up! And, Harkin, get off the floor! What is wrong with you?”

  “Me?”

  She walked back to the cavern entrance and yelled out, “Airmid! Cinnie! Get in here!”

  “No Orla?” Aidan asked about the youngest of their kin.

  “I don’t even know where she is.”

  “That’s good. That’s very nice. A concerned mother, as always.”

  Cinnie came in first. She was in her dragon form, but she had several gold chains around her neck and rings on her talons. He’d bet anything she’d been rolling around in a pile of gold. She really loved doing that. Kind of like a pig in shit.