Feel the Burn

by G. A. Aiken

  “If Addolgar’s sons weren’t so dumb, I wouldn’t have to do such things.”

  “It was a simple question, though.”

  “A question he kept asking.”

  She laughed, sounding just like her mother. “Sure we shouldn’t wait until morning? When cooler heads can prevail?”

  “You and your fancy words and ridiculous logic.”

  “You insisted on my education—I promised to use it when I could. Besides, I know that my dear, sweet cousin Brannie does have a tendency to be very sensitive about dragons who don’t show the queen the level of respect she thinks Rhiannon deserves. This is probably nothing.”

  “It probably is. And once I slap that snobby bastard around, we’ll leave him and his family alone, but with the additional understanding that if he thinks he rules any part of the Southlands, he’s horribly wrong.”

  “But an entire battalion of dragons? Seems excessive.”

  “I like excessive. It works for me.”

  She curled her forearm around his and pulled him close to her side, but her laughter abruptly stopped when one of Rhys’s younger sons, who Rhys had sent out to scout ahead, landed in front of them.

  Rhys stepped away from his daughter and held up his fist, the battalion coming to a halt behind him.

  “What is it?” he asked his son.

  “It seems, Father, that we have a bigger problem than moody royals.”

  Kachka had to admit . . . she felt a little trapped.

  The farther down they went, the more the walls seemed to be closing in. The dragons and poor Zoya eventually had to stoop over in order to clear the ceiling. No wonder the dragons here spent a good amount of time in human form. There was no way a dragon in its natural form could maneuver down here.

  Kachka had thought Annwyl’s castle was too closed in for her, but she was wrong. This was much worse, and she was working hard not to allow herself to panic. As it was, the more they traveled, the more she seemed to have trouble breathing.

  As they continued on, Kachka realized she was falling behind the others. She should be the one leading, but her labored breathing held her back until she knew that she couldn’t go any further.

  She stumbled to a halt, one hand pressing against the stone wall that was just too close and the other against her chest.

  In a moment of pure panic, she actually thought about running back. She’d rather face an entire horde of crazed Chramnesind fanatics than spend another second in this crypt.

  But before she could bolt, before she could spend her life in shame, he was there. Gaius was there, standing in front of her, blocking the others’ view of her.

  “She’s fine,” he called back to the others. “Just banged her foot. Go and we’ll catch up.”

  The others kept moving forward and Gaius waited until they disappeared around a corner before he crouched in front of Kachka.

  Kachka shook her head. “I . . . um . . . uh . . .”

  That’s when Gaius suddenly gripped her chin tight, and lifted her head up so she was forced to look at him.

  “You are the Scourge of the Gods, Kachka Shestakova. And Daughter of the Steppes. Do you want your mother and ancestors laughing at your weakness from the Great Plains of the Skies? Do you want your mother saying it was the wrong sister she tried to kill? Then suck up the pain, ignore the panic, get off your ass, and let’s move.”

  Without another word, Gaius stood, yanking Kachka to her feet with him. As soon as she was standing, she shoved him back, and pressed one of her daggers against his throat.

  “Speak unkindly of my sister again, lizard,” she warned, “and there will be one less royal in the world.”

  She turned away from him then, setting off after the others. But only a few feet later, she stopped. Her breath came easy now. Her heart no longer racing.

  Kachka faced him, went up on her toes, kissed his mouth.

  Thank you,” she said softly, then added, “Bastard.”

  Gaius grinned, but it soon faded, his head turning, his one eye briefly closing. “They’re coming,” he finally said.

  There had been little doubt that the fanatics would come looking for the royals who resided in the castle, but Kachka had been secretly hoping that they’d follow the tracks of the others. With the siblings, Nina, and the Mì-runach protecting them, Kachka had little doubt that Aidan’s sister would be safe.

  But whether they’d sent two groups or the one had just happened to follow them, Kachka didn’t know. In either case, the fanatics were quickly approaching.

  “Move,” Kachka ordered the king, pushing him ahead of her so that she could protect them all. “Now.”

  Rhys stood on the mountain, staring down on the attack taking place at Stone Castle.

  He had to admit, the castle itself was holding up quite well. Boulders smashing against it were causing damage, but it was minimal. It seemed strange that the attackers would continue even so.

  “What is it?” his son asked.

  “They just keep hitting it. Why?”

  “Distraction,” his daughter said. Even with her fancy education and her upper-crust thinking, she still had one of the best down-and-dirty battle minds he’d known. And he had known the best. She outdid them all.

  “They’re keeping the soldiers distracted,” she said, pointing at Lord Jarlath’s military force trying to keep the attacking enemy out.

  “Distracted from what?”

  “The attackers aren’t after something in Stone Castle. They’re after something in the mountains.”

  “So we go in?” Rhys asked.

  “My suggestion, we wipe this lot out. I’m guessing they already have someone inside.”

  “Then shouldn’t we go in and stop them?” his son asked.

  “No. You forget, brother, our Brannie’s inside. This is the sort of thing that She-dragon was made for.”

  “She’s on her own.”

  “Hardly. She’s got the Mì-runach with her.”

  “And King Gaius,” he reminded her.

  “I fought in that last battle against Thracius.” She turned and motioned to the battalion, sending them off in different directions with a flick of her talons. “So trust me . . . the Rebel King can handle himself.”

  They continued on, but the troops behind them kept getting closer until Gaius realized that Kachka was no longer right behind him.

  He turned and went back and found her with Zoya Kolesova.

  “What are you doing?” He could hear the zealots and he was now guessing they were dragons.

  “There is other way out, yes?” Kachka asked him.

  “I’m sure the dwarves have many ways out of—”

  “Good.” Kachka waved at the tunnel walls. “Go, Zoya.”

  “What’s Zoya going to—”

  Zoya began hitting the walls and low ceiling with her fists until she’d gone from one side to the other.

  “There,” she said.

  But Gaius didn’t see what she was talking about. There were spots where her fists had damaged the stone—impressive enough—but he didn’t see how that helped them.

  “Go,” Kachka now said to him.

  “Go . . . what?”

  “Use your flame.”

  “It needs the extra pressure,” Zoya said to him, although that didn’t really explain anything.

  Needing to get them to move, Gaius decided to play along. He motioned the two women behind him, and unleashed his flame against the wall.

  That’s when everything began to shake. The walls. The ceiling. The ground beneath his feet.

  Gaius stopped and stared until he heard Kachka yell, “I would move if I were you, dragon!”

  That’s when Gaius realized the women were about fifty feet away from him.

  He charged back as the ceiling and walls caved in, blocking the tunnel.

  Stunned, Gaius looked at Zoya. “How did you do that?” he asked her.

  “What did you expect, Rebel King? I am Zoya Kolesova, am I not? Of the Mo
untain Movers of the Lands of Pain in the Far Reaches of the Steppes of the Outerplains! Did you think the Daughters of the Steppes just made names up?”

  “Yes. Yes, I did.” Gaius thought a moment, then asked Kachka, “Your tribe rode bears?”

  “We did. Then we changed to the horse because horse may kick your face in, but bears will rip it off completely. I had a great aunt who had no skin on her face whatsoever. And no nose. But she kept both eyes, so she was considered lucky.”

  Gaius began to respond but ended up shaking his head, closing his mouth, and walking away.

  Because, really . . . what was there to say?

  Dagmar headed for the stables. There she found mother and daughter grooming their horses. The two mighty black stallions towering over their riders but causing them no fear. And, for once, the two women weren’t fighting. They weren’t arguing. Nor were they giving each other the kind of brutal silence only a mother can give to her daughter and vice versa.

  Also lurking in the stables were Annwyl’s new companions, the Kolesova sisters. They ate apple cores and made everyone nervous but that was about the extent of what they’d seemed to bring to the Southlands. So far. But Annwyl didn’t seem to mind them and they had much less to say than their younger sister.

  Hands folded primly in front of her, Dagmar asked the three women, “Could you please excuse us?”

  The eldest Kolesova, Nika, bit her apple core in half but didn’t actually . . . move anywhere. She just stared at Dagmar as did her two sisters.

  Cracking her neck, Dagmar faced them, when Talwyn announced, “When my Auntie Dagmar tells you to get out . . . you get out.”

  “She did not tell us to get out,” Nika explained. “She asked us to excuse her. We thought she meant excusing her from being imperialist dog or weak Northland female, neither of which we will excuse.”

  “No. She meant get the fuck out. So get the fuck out.”

  “That could have been clearer,” Nika complained, walking toward the front of the stables, her sisters following behind.

  “And I thought the Shestakova sisters were literal,” Talwyn sighed.

  Annwyl rested her arms on the stall gate, her horse nuzzling the back of her head. “What is it?” she asked Dagmar.

  “I was visited by a god.”

  “You’re always visited by gods.”

  “Yes. Much to my joy,” Dagmar stated sarcastically. “But this one’s a friend of yours. The one Rhiannon was unhappy about.”

  “Mingxia. What did she want?”

  “To tell me the war has begun.”

  Annwyl frowned. “She told you the war’s begun, but she didn’t tell us?”

  “You’d think she’d tell us,” Talwyn complained. “We’ve been training with her all this time, yeah? So how come she didn’t tell us?”

  “I don’t know. But you really would think she’d tell us before she told anyone else.”

  “I know!”

  “By all reason,” Dagmar hissed. “Are you two like this with her? When you’re training?”

  Mother and daughter glanced at each other before Annwyl admitted, “Sometimes.”

  “Yeah. That’s what I thought.” She blew out a breath. “It’s hard for me to admit this,” Dagmar said, placing the palm of her left hand against her forehead. “But I liked it better when you two didn’t get along. I had fewer headaches.”

  “We’ve heard that before,” Annwyl said.

  “From Daddy.”

  “And Rhiannon.”

  “And Briec.”

  “And Talaith and Morfyd . . . where are you going? Don’t we have plans to make? Dagmar?”

  Aidan suddenly pulled to a halt, raising his hand to stop them all.

  The tunnel had grown even smaller and Gaius was glad to see that Kachka was holding on. Not letting the tight space wear on her as it had been.

  But now, even he was starting to panic a bit. His cave—which he rarely used these days—might have small tunnels like this, but he never went down them. And many he closed off to prevent humans wanting to make a name for themselves from entering.

  So why had they stopped now? Here?

  Aidan leaned in to the small opening, with Brannie watching him closely, her body coiled as if ready to yank him back should some crazed dwarf try to take his head.

  Yet there was no crazed dwarf. Instead, Aidan unleashed a line of flame into the opening.

  And, after a minute or two, there was a, “Yeah?”

  “Aidan the Divine,” Aidan replied. “Lord Jarlath’s third son.”

  “Yeah,” the voice replied. “Come on in.”

  “Follow me,” Aidan told them. “Be calm. Be respectful.” He looked right at Zoya. “Keep your pronouncements on men and males to a minimum. Understand?”

  “Why do you look at me, pretty dragon?”

  Marina reached up and placed her hand on Zoya’s shoulder. “Do not worry,” she told Aidan. “I will keep eye on our comrade.”

  Aidan nodded and moved forward, the rest of them following.

  Once they cleared the small opening, they stepped out into a large cavern and Gaius took a deep breath. He couldn’t believe how relieved he was to be in a larger space where he could straighten to his full height.

  Armed dwarves stood in front of an entryway that led to large marble stairs.

  Now that they were free of the confines of those tunnels, they walked three to four across and headed up the stairs. As they reached the top, they all stopped, gaping at what they saw.

  The inside of the mountain had been carved out and a full city had been built within. A city of molten steel and working machines. A city of industry.

  Gaius had never seen such a sight; the dwarves of the Empire were mostly like . . . everyone else in the Empire. Stonemasons, blacksmiths, and farmers. A few members of the Senate. Loyal to their own kind but, at the end of the day, still just . . . Sovereigns, like the rest of them.

  If they had a world like this, built inside the Septima Mountains . . . none of the Iron dragons knew about it.

  “This is amazing,” Brannie said. “I wish Izzy was here. She’d love this.”

  “Lord Aidan?” a redheaded dwarf asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Yeah. Your father’s been waitin’ for ya. This way.”

  Aidan briefly closed his eyes and let out a breath. “Son of a—”

  “Let it go for now,” Gaius gently reminded him. “We have bigger issues than your father’s . . . uniqueness.”

  The dwarf led them through the big city, passing the stalls of many vendors. Gaius wished he had time to look at everything they had to offer, if just to buy his sister a little something.

  Yet they didn’t have time for anything and moved through the crowd quickly until they reached a tavern.

  The red-haired dwarf led them inside to a dwarf with a shaved head covered in tattoos and a braided black beard that reached the floor. He had one leg up on the table and a pint in his big hands. Also at the table was Lord Jarlath.

  “Boy!” Jarlath called out when he saw his son. “So you made it!” It was easy to see the dragon had perhaps had more than his share of dwarven wine. “And you brought your . . . weird friends. Good for you!”

  Appearing embarrassed, Aidan glanced at Gaius before walking close to his father.

  “Father, the Stone Castle is under attack.”

  Jarlath smirked, and looked to his tattooed dwarf friend.

  “Which one?” he asked his son.

  “Which one what?”

  “Which of those bastards betrayed me? Their father.”

  “It was Ainmire, but—”

  “Ha!” Lord Jarlath rapped his knuckles against the wood table and pointed at the Dwarf King. “Told ya it’d be that weak boy. You owe me thirty gold, dwarf.”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Aidan snapped. “Your home is under attack. Our lands are under attack.”

  “The Stone Castle will stand. It will always stand.”


  “And your family?” Aidan pushed.

  “Not to be trusted, are they? Except you, but only because you’re loyal to the queen and the Mì-runach scum.”

  Aidan almost had his hands around his father’s throat when Kachka shoved the dragon back.

  “You,” she said, pointing at the tattooed dwarf. “You are Dwarf King?”

  The dwarf coldly eyed her back. “An Outerplains whore in my city. Sometimes you just can’t keep the trash out, can you, Jarlath?”

  Before Gaius even had a chance to react to that insult, the remaining Daughters of the Steppes had their weapons drawn and were moving forward, but without flinching, Kachka raised her hand, stopping them in their tracks. The group, as a whole, had come a long way since Gaius had met them on his death trek a few months back.

  Kachka stepped forward and, hooking her foot under his wooden chair, she rocked it hard, so the back of the dwarf’s head slammed against the wall.

  The dwarves in the pub stopped speaking, all attention now on Kachka and their king.

  If Kachka noticed any of them, Gaius had no idea. Everything about her at that moment was focused on the Dwarf King—and Gaius didn’t envy the dwarf one bit.

  Pinning the chair against the wall with her foot, Kachka stared down at the defiant royal.

  “I am Kachka Shestakova, Scourge of the Gods. Tell me, Dwarf King, did your great sin bring us here to you?”

  The tattoos on the Dwarf King’s head told a story. A story of heroic deeds. So typical of men, to put their rare feats of greatness right on their bodies. As if they constantly had to prove themselves.

  “You know why I am here, Dwarf King,” Kachka said when he continued to just stare at her. “What I need from you.”

  “I’ve been told,” he finally said, his voice like rough gravel.

  “Then where is it? Tell me and then we can go. And we will never know your great sin.”

  “Or what?” he shot back. “You Whores of the Steppes will kill us all?”

  “No,” she told him flatly. “We will just kill you, Dwarf King.”

  As the pair glared at each other, Gaius suddenly felt the need to step in. It was his way, Kachka now understood, and perhaps she needed that balance. It helped that her cousin Tatyana performed the same task for the team. But with her off with the siblings and Nina Chechneva that left poor Gaius to stick his thick neck out.