A Tale Of Two Dragons (dragon kin)

by G. A. Aiken

  “Just be careful, brother.”

  “I’ll have Ghleanna with me. She and her thick neck will keep me safe until we get Braith to Arranz’s.”

  “Her neck is thick, isn’t it?”

  “It runs in the family. Only Maelona has been spared the Cadwaladr thick neck because she takes after Mum.”

  They went down another set of steps.

  “What are you going to do?” Addolgar asked his brother. “Head back to your troops?”

  “No. I’m going to see the Queen. See if I can head this off at the pass.”

  “You haven’t told her anything?”

  “Of course not. As soon as I heard what happened, I came to make sure you were okay.”

  Addolgar stopped and focused on his brother. “You do care about me!”

  “Oh, shut up!”

  They made it to the courtyard and that’s where they met Ghleanna. She had on chain mail and the surcoat of an army she and Addolgar had long ago destroyed. A large bag hung off her shoulder and nearly to the ground. It would be much smaller when she was in her dragon form, but once she untied the knot at the top, it would fit around her dragon shoulders just as well, allowing her to carry clothes and human weapons, along with food and other supplies for her dragon form.

  “Where is she?” Ghleanna demanded.

  “She’s coming.”

  “Keep an eye on her,” Bercelak warned Ghleanna. “I still don’t trust her. And make sure Arranz is completely apprised of this entire situation so he and our cousins know what to do.”

  “Of course you don’t trust Braith. You don’t trust anybody,” Ghleanna reminded their brother. “You don’t trust the air.”

  “Because it tends to become unseasonably chilly when I’d prefer it to be warm. It’s as if it does it on purpose.”

  Ghleanna closed her eyes, shook her head.

  Braith stepped out of the Main Hall and onto the courtyard steps. She wore nothing but one of Addolgar’s shirts, showing off those lovely human legs of hers. But she had a bag similar to Ghleanna’s over her shoulder.

  Once she stood next to them, Addolgar asked her, “You ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll—”

  Braith’s words were cut off as Shalin rushed out of the Main Hall. “Addolgar!”

  At his mother’s barked words, Addolgar, Ghleanna, and Bercelak dropped their travel bags and pulled their weapons. They instantly surrounded a confused Braith.

  From the sky they dropped, the Queen’s Royal Guard, surrounding the small group.

  Ailean came out of the front door, pushing Shalin and Maelona back inside. Once the doors were closed, he pulled out his sword, resting the tip on the top stone step while his hand loosely clasped the pommel.

  “Can we help you?” he asked . . . kindly.

  “We’ve come for her,” the leader said, his claw pointing at Braith. “Give her to us and we leave you and yours in peace, Ailean the Wicked.”

  Ailean laughed. “Peace? Cadwaladrs know little of peace, I’m afraid.”

  On his words, shadows moved and then the Queen’s Guards, who were surrounding Addolgar, Ghleanna, and Bercelak, who were surrounding Braith, were now surrounded themselves . . . by Addolgar’s kin. Most of them were just waking up from a hard night of even harder drinking, but it was one of the first things that every Cadwaladr learned . . . to be ready for battle at anytime, anywhere, with the understanding that once they were done killing, more drinking could begin!

  Now uneasy, as the Cadwaladr reputation was always in the forefront of any Southland dragon’s mind, the guards slowly pulled their weapons, their bodies tensing in preparation for a fight.

  “No, no!”

  Braith easily muscled her way past Bercelak and Ghleanna, shocking them both since few had ever managed that before. “This isn’t going to happen because of me.”

  “Braith—”

  “No, Addolgar!” She let out a sigh, faced him. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, but no. This is where it stops.”

  Braith faced the Guard leader. “I’ll come with you. Just leave the Cadwaladrs out of it.”

  Pretending not to be as relieved as he was, the leader nodded and stepped back, gesturing for her to move ahead.

  Braith looked over her shoulder at Addolgar. “Thank you for everything, Addolgar. To you and your kin. I truly appreciate all you’ve done and tried to do.” She smiled at him and Addolgar felt his gut tighten at the sight of it.

  “Braith, please—”

  “It’s all right. I’ll be fine.”

  But Addolgar knew she wouldn’t be fine. It was her damn honor that was leading her down this road. Her damn honor that was making her take on what he would consider a suicide mission. It was her damn honor that would ensure she’d never listen to reason.

  He watched her walk away until she had enough room to remove his shirt and shift to her natural form. She shook out her long, blue hair and blue wings before taking to the skies with the Queen’s Guard at her back.

  Once they were gone, it was deadly silent all around him as if everyone was giving Addolgar a moment to mourn—

  “Owwwwww!” Addolgar roared after Ghleanna’s hard hand slapped him in the back of the head . “What was that for?”

  “Are you just letting her go?”

  “She told me to. Owwwww!” Addolgar now glared at Bercelak , who had also slapped him in the back of his already sore head. “What the hells?”

  “She told you to?” Bercelak barked. “What are you? A well-trained dog?”

  “Last night you were ready to cut her down in Da’s hall.”

  “That was last night. Today is different! And we’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you, you idiot!”

  “Big-headed Bercelak is right!” one of their cousins called out, earning a glower from Bercelak. “We should follow those Queen’s Guards and slaughter them all!”

  Addolgar’s kin cheered in agreement, but a calmly spoken, “No,” stopped them from doing just that.

  Ailean still stood at the top of the stairs, staring down at them all. “We will not slaughter anyone.”

  “So we just let them take her?” Ghleanna asked.

  Ailean grinned. “I didn’t say that either.”

  Chapter 9

  Braith would admit, she’d expected rougher treatment from the Queen’s Guard as they entered Devenallt Mountain. But the Guards were actually quite . . . kind. Perhaps they appreciated her preventing a battle between them and the Cadwaladr Clan. Because they all knew—it would have been a battle the Guards would have lost even though their brothers-in-arms would have eventually avenged them.

  In the end, though, Braith had simply not seen the point of all those dragons fighting and dying. Her father was a traitor. And getting the Guards killed would have only turned the Cadwaladrs into traitors as well. It was something Braith was not willing to put into motion.

  So, she did what her mother would have done—faced the Queen.

  The Guards led her to the Queen’s throne room, the royals watching Braith from the shadows. There were no curses tossed at her. No threats of retribution for her father’s betrayal. They just watched her and said nothing. She didn’t know how to take that, so she didn’t bother to think on it.

  When she stood before the Queen’s throne, she sat back on her haunches and briefly bowed her head. “My Queen.”

  Addiena’s cold blue eyes slowly turned toward Braith. “Well, well,” the Queen said softly. “The traitor’s daughter.”

  Addolgar leaned around the corner and saw the guards standing outside the Queen’s throne room. He pulled back and faced his siblings. “We’ll never get past those guards without killing them,” he whispered.

  Ghleanna shrugged and began to pull out her sword, but Bercelak slapped her claw with his own. “We’re not killing the Queen’s Guards. We’re part of her army.”

  “Then what do you suggest?”

  “Father said we need to buy him time.”


  “For what?” Addolgar asked. He still didn’t know what his father was up to. And based on the way both his siblings shrugged . . . they didn’t know either.

  “Let’s just do what he asks and hope for the best,” Ghleanna suggested.

  “But how?”

  “We could start a brawl. We’re always good at that.”

  “Or . . . ,” Bercelak began, but then his voice trailed off and Addolgar realized his brother had caught sight of one of the Queen’s daughters. Princess Rhiannon. Everyone in the family knew of Bercelak’s never-ending—and fruitless—obsession with the meanest royal in all of the Southlands.

  She was walking by when Bercelak quickly stepped in front of her—completely forgetting about poor Braith!

  “Princess Rhiannon,” he said.

  The white She-dragon looked up at him, her lip curling back over bright, white fangs. “Low Born.”

  “It’s good to see you too.”

  Ghleanna’s eyes crossed in exasperation—Rhiannon was their brother’s one and only true weakness—while Addolgar stamped his claw and snarled at his brother, “What are you doing? We’re running out of time!”

  Rhiannon suddenly focused on Addolgar and he had to admit—he didn’t really like it.

  “Running out of time for what?” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you planning to kidnap me?”

  “Can we?” Bercelak asked.

  Ghleanna slapped the back of Bercelak’s head and Addolgar admitted the truth: “We’re trying to stop an execution.”

  “An execution? Oh. You mean poor Braith of the Darkness,” she said casually. “Oh, yes. My mother will definitely have her dead in the next five minutes.”

  “Well, I don’t want that,” Addolgar said, horrified.

  “Why do you care?”

  “I just do!”

  “She saved his life,” Ghleanna explained.

  “And like the loyal fight dogs that you are, you feel the need to rush in and rescue her from the scary demon dragoness?”

  “You mean your mother?” Ghleanna asked.

  “There’s no proof of that.”

  “You have her eyes.”

  “It’s like you want me to have you killed,” the princess snapped back at Ghleanna.

  “This isn’t helping Braith!” Addolgar exploded. “We just need to buy some time.”

  Rhiannon sighed dramatically, eyes rolling. She glanced around, reached into a small group of young males, and pulled one out.

  “Bram, my dearest friend. These low borns need your help. Introduce yourselves, all, because I’ll not remember you, much less this conversation in the next five minutes.”

  “Bercelak. Addolgar.” The young dragon greeted them, his gaze lingering a little long on Addolgar’s sister. “Ghleanna.”

  Bercelak frowned. “Do we know you?”

  “I’m Bram,” the dragon said, appearing confused. “I stayed with your parents last summer.”

  “Oh.” Ghleanna glanced at them. “Right. Uh . . . Brogue.”

  “Bram.”

  “Right. Bram. Bram the . . . Friendly?”

  “Merciful.”

  “Of course!” Ghleanna smiled, patted his shoulder. “Bram the Merciful. My father speaks quite highly of you.”

  “Really? What did he say?”

  “Uh . . .”

  “We don’t have time for this!” Addolgar pushed Ghleanna out of the way and grabbed the young dragon’s forearm. “Just go in there and do something, whoever you are.”

  “Do what?”

  “They’re trying to stop the execution of Braith of the Darkness,” Rhiannon stated, still calmly.

  “Well, that execution’s practically written in stone.”

  “Then unwrite it!” Addolgar barked. “Or I’ll go in there and lay waste to everyone!”

  Not liking that response, Bercelak snarled, so Addolgar added, “Everyone but the Queen.”

  “Then you’re of no use to me,” the princess muttered.

  “Rhiannon,” the young, unknown dragon chastised. “Remember our discussion about things to say out loud and things to keep in one’s head? This is a keeper.”

  Bercelak suddenly stepped into the young dragon. “You seem awfully familiar with Princess Rhiannon.”

  Blinking up at Bercelak, the dragon stuttered, “Uh . . . well . . . uh . . .”

  “Gods, Bercelak.” Ghleanna shoved Bercelak aside and caught hold of the young male. “Go in there, Bram, and do whatever is necessary to get us some time. Can you handle that?”

  “Aye.”

  “Good. Now go.”

  Bram the Whatever rushed off toward the throne room.

  “Where’s Da?” Addolgar demanded.

  “He’ll be here. But you need to calm down,” his sister warned.

  Bercelak, uninterested in any of this, faced the princess again. He smiled and she, in turn, sneered. “Low borns. I have absolutely no use for them.” However, she did nod at Addolgar. “Good luck saving Braith’s life, Cadwaladr. You probably won’t, but . . . good luck just the same.”

  She turned, the sharp tip of her white tail nearly slicing Bercelak’s snout in two before she disappeared into a nearby chamber.

  “You do realize you don’t have a chance with her, don’t you?” Ghleanna asked their younger brother.

  “Shut up before I remove your scales.”

  “Your father’s betrayal,” the Queen went on, “does not sit well with me, Braith of the Darkness.”

  And Braith didn’t bother replying to that or anything else the Queen said. What was the point? Braith could tell by the way this was going that nothing would save her, and speaking out would probably only make it worse. In fact, she hoped if she kept silent the end would be quick. So she kept her eyes lowered and waited for it all to be over.

  “Uh . . . excuse me, Your Majesty?” a voice said from behind Braith.

  She didn’t turn around, but she could hear another dragon moving up behind her.

  “What is it, Bram?” the Queen testily asked.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, Your Majesty, but I was hoping to involve myself in this.”

  “Involve yourself?”

  “Uh . . . yes. Involve myself. With Braith’s defense.”

  “Defense?”

  “Why, yes, Your Majesty. Braith will get a defense, won’t she? Since the accusation has been against her father and not actually Braith herself. Correct?”

  There was a long, painful pause, and Braith expected the Queen to order her guards to just cleave off Braith’s head. No one would exactly be surprised if she did, and the way the entire chamber became quiet . . .

  Braith simply closed her eyes and waited, but in the silence, she heard something. The sound of wood striking stone and it kept moving closer.

  It was curious how everyone became so silent, even the Queen. Unable to wait any longer, Braith looked over her shoulder. And that’s when she saw Brigida the Foul slowly moving across the throne room, her dragon body leaning heavily on her wooden walking stick, her left back claw dragging behind her as if unable to function at all.

  As she moved forward, everyone stepped out of her way. Royals, guards . . . everyone. Braith had never seen anything quite like it.

  Brigida was a Cadwaladr. Not mated into the Clan but born into it like Ailean and Addolgar and all the rest. She was, as far as Southland royalty was concerned . . . a low-born dragon. And royals didn’t move back from low-born dragons unless they needed the low borns to remove a half-eaten carcass. Yet no one approached Brigida. No one stopped her. And the Queen gazed at her with something that Braith truly believed to be fear.

  “Gods,” Bram whispered to her. “This was Ailean’s idea to save you?”

  Braith could only shrug, because she had no idea what the Cadwaladrs were planning. Which, at the moment, was the most horrifying thing about all this.

  Addolgar looked at his siblings, but all they could do was shrug helplessly. Why their father would send Brigida to help Braith, he d
idn’t know. The Queen was not a fan of witches in general, and seemed to loathe White Dragonwitches specifically. No one knew why, but many suspected it had to do with her daughter, Rhiannon. Rhiannon was a white She-dragon after all. But she did not seem to have the same level of mystical power that Brigida or the few other White Dragonwitches of the Southlands had.

  But, honestly, none of that mattered. Not with Braith’s life on the line.

  “Come on,” Ghleanna said, tugging at Addolgar’s forearm. She headed inside the chamber, Addolgar and Bercelak following. The guards let them by, but watched closely.

  Brigida was still making her very slow way across the chamber toward the Queen.

  Addolgar was about to storm around her one way while Bercelak went the other, but Ghleanna caught them both by the hair and yanked them back.

  “But—” Addolgar began.

  “We follow,” Ghleanna whispered.

  “She’s moving like a snail,” Bercelak grumbled.

  “We follow,” Ghleanna insisted.

  So they did . . . very slowly. Painfully slowly. Addolgar hadn’t known anything could move that slowly and still be moving.

  Even stranger, though, was the fact that everyone waited for Brigida. They watched. They waited. They moved out of her way. The She-dragon was clearly feared by one and all in this hall.

  Except Braith, he realized. She’d been the only one he’d ever met, even among his kin, willing to brazenly, as Brigida called it, “back talk” her.

  He found something rather endearing about that. Well . . . maybe not endearing. But charming. No. Not charming.

  Cute. It was cute. She was cute. Very, very cute.

  “Stop staring at her!” Ghleanna whispered.

  “Huh?”

  “At Braith,” she continued to whisper. “Stop staring at her like you’re planning to kill her yourself.”

  “Was I?”

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “That is such an open-ended question,” Bercelak scoffed.

  “Nothing,” Addolgar replied. “I was just thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “How cute she is,” he answered honestly.