by G. A. Aiken
“I need you to come with me.”
“What? Where?”
“I can’t explain now. Here.” She handed Annwyl her clothes. She had no idea when Morfyd took these. Nor could she understand the secrecy.
“Morfyd, what is going on?”
“I need you to trust me, but we need to get moving before Fearghus comes looking for you.”
Annwyl put her clothes on while she watched Morfyd. “You too, huh?”
“Me too, what?”
“You and Fearghus. I never noticed before but you look a bit alike.”
“He’s my brother.”
“Big family.” Annwyl tugged on her boots, pulled her surcoat over her head, and wrapped a leather belt around her waist. Once dressed, she put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow. “What now, lady dragon?”
Morfyd watched Annwyl address her lieutenants. True, she’d seen a side of Annwyl that these men never had. The wounded warrior struggling to live. The woman who loved her brother. And the warrior woman she’d taken as a friend.
But she now saw why these men followed her. Annwyl radiated strength and determination. She was more than the leader of the rebellion. She was the heart of it.
“Move out tonight. We’ve gotten word that when the two suns rise tomorrow, Lorcan will attack the village. We can’t let him get through, or he’ll make for the Citadel of Ó Donnchadha and our women and children are there. Kill anyone that wears Lorcan’s colors. No survivors. No prisoners.”
“And you?” Brastias asked.
“I leave with Morfyd. Now. But I’ll be back by morning. Tomorrow I will face my brother.”
“And what of . . .” The men shifted uncomfortably, unwilling to meet Annwyl’s eyes.
She smirked. “And what of my dragon?” Morfyd blinked in surprise. Annwyl wasn’t even trying to hide her relationship with Fearghus.
Brastias cleared his throat. “Yes, Annwyl. What of your dragon?”
“Let him sleep. When he awakes tell him that I will return by sunup. Not too hard, is it?”
“And are we safe around him?”
Annwyl sighed in annoyance at the question, but Morfyd answered for her. “Yes. You are safe around him. But when you tell him about Annwyl, I wouldn’t stand around. I strongly suggest moving away quickly. Very quickly.”
Annwyl and her men stared at Morfyd. She shrugged at Annwyl’s raised eyebrow. “He is my brother. I know him well.”
The men, en masse, stepped away from her. All except Brastias, who stared at her. She realized that they were completely unaware that she, too, was a dragon. “Don’t worry. You’re safe around me as well.” She smiled but only Brastias and Annwyl smiled back.
“All right, then. We’re off.” Annwyl stepped away from the large table strewn with maps that she’d been leaning against. “I’ll see you all at dawn.”
Morfyd walked out of the tent, Annwyl behind her. Brastias’s voice stopped them.
“Annwyl.” The two females looked at him. He braved another smile at Morfyd before speaking to Annwyl. “Your weapons?”
“No.” Morfyd shook her head. “No weapons, Annwyl.”
Annwyl looked at Brastias and shrugged. “No weapons.”
“Then please be careful.”
Annwyl nodded and followed as Morfyd led her away from the camp to the clearing where she’d landed earlier.
The girl stepped back as Morfyd shifted, shaking out her wings and mane of hair. “You ready, Lady Annwyl?”
Annwyl grabbed on to the white mane of hair and expertly hauled herself up onto Morfyd’s back. “Aye, Lady Dragon. I’m ready.”
* * *
“I just don’t understand our brother. A human.” Briec gave a great sigh, causing Gwenvael to roll his eyes in annoyance.
“You don’t know anything, Briec. She’s different.”
“Don’t you really mean crazed, baby brother?”
Gwenvael saw Morfyd’s white scales swooping toward them. He stood up. Both he and Briec were already in human form and dressed.
“You’re just mad she slapped you around.” Gwenvael looked at his brother. “Like a bitch.”
Briec stood up. Slightly taller than Gwenvael, but still shorter than Fearghus, he tended to be just as much fun to torture as their older sibling. “I let her hit me.”
“You had to. Otherwise she would have killed you where you stood.”
Morfyd made one of her soundless landings and patiently waited while Annwyl dismounted. She shifted to human and Annwyl wrapped a fur covering around her shoulders.
He rushed down the stairs to meet them. “Lady Annwyl.”
“Gwenvael.”
“Feeling better?”
She couldn’t hide her smile or the blush to her cheeks. Now he knew what he’d always suspected—his brother was a brave, brave dragon. “Much, thank you.”
“Good.”
Briec now stood beside him. His arms crossed in front of his chest. “Lady.” He nodded coldly to her, and Annwyl glanced between Gwenvael and Morfyd.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?”
Briec blinked in surprise. “I am Briec the Mighty.”
Annwyl examined Gwenvael’s brother over from head to toe. “Really?” she remarked at last. “Did you give yourself that name?”
Gwenvael and Morfyd choked back a laugh before Morfyd pulled the girl away and up the stairs. “Come, Annwyl. We don’t have much time.”
Briec sneered after their retreating forms. “I hope the queen eats her marrow like pudding.”
Gwenvael scowled. If those two became enemies— Annwyl and the queen—who knew who would come out the winner. They were equally frightening females.
Gwenvael jogged up the stairs, Briec closely behind him. “Just remember, Briec. She almost took down Father. So we best hope they get along.”
Annwyl thought they would travel for long distances across land. She guessed wrongly. Morfyd instead went straight up. Higher and higher until they reached the crest of Devenallt Mountain just above the clouds. It contained the court of the infamous Dragon Queen. Believed to be a myth, she, like Fearghus, turned out to be all too real. And little did Annwyl know a whole community of dragons were always so close. They truly did keep their lives secret from humans. And now, here Annwyl was. A common bastard girl, walking into the majestic halls of the queen’s court. As she entered the main hall with Morfyd, all conversation stopped. The dragons all turned to her. They watched her. Closely. Annwyl felt naked and alone. She wished that Fearghus accompanied her, but she knew he’d never let her come. He wouldn’t risk it. He wouldn’t risk her. The thought brought a smile to her face and she didn’t notice Fearghus’s father until she practically climbed on top of the old bastard. Still in dragon form, his claw and tail freshly bandaged. His damaged snout smeared with some kind of ointment, probably to stop the bleeding.
He glared down at her with those cold eyes and Annwyl felt that desire to run again. But she wouldn’t give the old bastard the satisfaction.
“How’s the claw?” she called up to him. Morfyd gasped and seized her arm, dragging her up another set of steps and into another hall.
“Please try not to get yourself killed, Annwyl. Fearghus would never forgive me.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.” As they entered the next hall, she again halted all dragon conversation. Instead they watched her walk by.
“They all stare.”
“Yes. It’s been hundreds of years since a human has been here.”
“You mean a human who wasn’t brought here as a meal?” Morfyd shrugged but would say nothing else.
“I see.”
A dragon walked toward Annwyl and Morfyd hissed at him. “Keep back, Kesslene.”
“I just wanted to see the pretty thing,” the dragon announced to the room.
“Oi!” Annwyl snapped. The last one who referred to her as a “thing”—Lorcan—she had every intention of killing soon.
Morfyd kept Annwyl moving, although the large
dragon kept pace with them. “Don’t be cute, Kesslene. Besides, she’s with Fearghus. And you remember what he did to you the last time you caused his displeasure.” Morfyd went down another flight of stairs this time and the dragon Kesslene stopped following, but he wasn’t done.
“With Fearghus? Really? Then why has he not ‘Claimed’ her?”
“Claimed me?”
“Worry about that later, Annwyl.” After several minutes, they stopped in front of another set of stairs.
“You dragons really like stairs.”
“Up these stairs and inside. You know what to do.”
Annwyl nodded once, took a deep breath, and walked up the steps and into the queen’s chamber.
The great queen tossed her mane of white hair out of her eyes, and turned the page of the book she read. As she did, the chain linked to the collar around her throat rattled lightly and she smiled. Then a familiar scent hit her nostrils. She sniffed the air.
“Fearghus?” She closed the book in her hand and turned, her chain rattling more. But it wasn’t Fearghus standing in front of her, but a tiny human. How cute. Bercelak sent her a little something to munch on.
“And who are you?” She always liked to chat with her meals before disemboweling. You never knew what you might learn.
The human female did not answer. She just stared at her. A typical response when humans saw her. She stood much larger than most dragons.
She snapped two talons together. “Hello?”
It came alive, clearing its throat. “Um . . . I am Annwyl.”
“Annwyl. Annwyl. I do not know an Annwyl. So, are you my dinner?”
“No.” It took a step back. “No. I’m not dinner. Let’s never say that again. I am Annwyl of the Dark Plains.” The queen stared at it.
“Annwyl of Garbhán Isle?” Still nothing. It sighed.
“Annwyl the Bloody.”
“You are Annwyl the Bloody?”
It looked slightly defeated. “Yes.”
“You are awfully tiny to be Annwyl the Bloody.”
“I’m taller than most men.”
“That simply does not impress me.”
Morfyd should have warned her. She should have let her know that she would be facing a being this large and imposing. How could the dragon before her be anything but a queen?
She reminded Annwyl of Morfyd. Her scales a glossy white. Her mane the color of fresh snow. But she stood as tall and wide as Fearghus, if not a little bigger than that.
“Is Fearghus here? I smell him.”
Annwyl now wished she had bathed before leaving the campsite, but there hadn’t been time.
“Uh . . . no, he’s not here.” She cleared her throat.
“That’s me . . . you . . . uh . . . smell.”
Intense blue eyes shifted and the queen leaned in closer as if to get a good look at her.
“You? He’s been with you? A human? Whatever for?”
This was one of those times where Annwyl had a really crude remark at the ready. Something that would include the word “suck.” But she kept her tongue in check. Controlled her impulses. It wasn’t easy.
“He loves me.”
“Does he now?” The queen sat up and for the first time Annwyl noticed she wore a collar around her throat with a chain connected to it. The chain led to a stone wall, securely attached to a thick metal circle. She frowned but didn’t have much time to think about it as the queen moved closer to her.
“Whether he does or doesn’t, concerns me not. Why are you here?”
“I must fight Lorcan of Garbhán Isle in a few hours. . . .”
“I do not concern myself with the problems of humans.”
“But my problem isn’t human, lady. It is Hefaidd-Hen.”
“Ah, yes. Bercelak told me of his involvement with your brother.”
“Morfyd said you could give me some kind of protection. He will surely use Hefaidd-Hen against me.”
“Are you afraid you’ll die, human?”
Annwyl shook her head. “No, lady. That has never been my worry. I worry that I will not be able to kill my brother before I die. That has always been my greatest fear. I know what he can do. He’ll destroy all that oppose him and Hefaidd-Hen will help him do it. I only need protection from Hefaidd-Hen long enough to kill my brother. After that I don’t care what happens to me.”
“And what of Fearghus?”
“Fearghus said he will fight with me.”
“So you risk his life as well as your own?”
“My life is forfeit, lady. All I care about now is killing my brother. He must die this day so that my people can be free. And I truly believe I’m the only one who can do it. Fearghus can take care of himself.”
“But if you die, what of Fearghus?”
Annwyl shrugged, uncomfortable with these questions.
“He will find another, I guess. I don’t know.”
The queen snorted. “You don’t know dragons at all, do you?”
“I never said I did.”
“And if Fearghus dies, but you live. Then what?”
Annwyl’s face tightened. The thought of something—anything—happening to Fearghus caused her anger to vibrate right below her flesh. Her voice low, her rage barely contained, “You best pray that never happens, lady. For if he dies and I live, then I will tear this world apart with my rage. And no one will be safe. I promise you that.”
The queen watched Annwyl for several long moments. “You are an interesting . . . thing. I think I understand what my son sees in you.”
Annwyl swallowed. “Son?”
“You didn’t know?” Annwyl slowly shook her head. “Yes. I think all my children are quite unimpressed with their rank among dragons.”
“Yes. Apparently they are.”
The queen smiled at that, and Annwyl had to stop herself from running from the chamber. Her smile revealed a frightening display of what seemed to be hundreds of teeth. Mostly fangs. The dragon moved to the other side of the cave, reaching into a tiny cavern. She dug inside, then came out with a small but shiny object. She walked over to Annwyl and held the item out to her.
Annwyl took it from the queen’s white claw. She examined it carefully. A necklace. Made of a strong, but extremely thin, silver-colored metal, twisted into an intricate design, the thin lines swirling around and through each other.
“Remove your shirt and put it on. It needs to be right next to the flesh.”
Annwyl followed the queen’s direction, quickly pulling off her surcoat and shirt, and placing the necklace right at the base of her throat. It lay flat against her collar bone and the top part of her chest, while two thin bits laced around her neck and clasped at the back. She redressed quickly, eager to be away as dawn and the fight for her people drew near. She prayed there would be no more questions.
“How does that fit then?”
Annwyl nodded. “Fine. And this will protect me from Hefaidd-Hen?”
“No. That will not help you.” Annwyl sighed in exasperation. Then why waste her time putting on bits of jewelry? But before she could ask the question, the queen cocked her head to one side. “That will not help you with Hefaidd-Hen, but this will.”
Annwyl looked up just as the queen let loose a ball of flame that threw her from the chamber.
Morfyd and her three siblings waited outside the queen’s chamber. Éibhear, the youngest brother, anxiously jumped around them. “When are we going? When? When?”
Briec calmly looked at him. “You ask that question one more time, and we’re going to shave your head . . . again.”
Éibhear sunk into a moody silence as Morfyd wondered what kept the girl so long. She risked Fearghus’s wrath by bringing Annwyl here and taking her to the queen. There was every chance the girl would not survive. But she had to risk it and Annwyl agreed. In her more than two hundred years alive, she never knew a braver human. One willing to face the Queen of Dragons. And Morfyd had warned her. Warned her that the queen had no sympathy for humans. Annwy
l had laughed. Not dismissively, but after fighting off Bercelak a lack of sympathy just didn’t sound that scary to her. So she walked in alone to face the one being who could protect her or turn her to ash where she stood.
Morfyd still had no idea which the queen would choose. She gave up long ago trying to guess her moods and whims. All she could hope for now was that her fondness for Fearghus kept the girl alive.
The siblings stopped talking. They all heard it. The unmistakable sound of air sucked into lungs. They all turned to each other, just as a ball of flame flew out of the chamber. It hit the wall and crashed against the floor.
“Oh, gods! Annwyl!” Morfyd and Gwenvael rushed over as Annwyl rolled herself on the floor to put the flame out. But by the time they reached her the flame disappeared.
No. That wasn’t right. It didn’t disappear. It went in to her. Her skin soaked up the flame. Annwyl, however, still screamed and rolled around, completely unaware that the fire was gone.
Morfyd caught hold of her. “Annwyl! Annwyl! It’s all right!”
After a few moments, Annwyl stopped. She rolled into a ball and breathed in gulps of air, her entire body shaking. They all waited. Silently. Expecting her to snap out of it. But the queen’s voice called from inside her chamber, “It’s not over yet, my loves.”
That’s when Annwyl started screaming again. Not in fear and panic. But in pure, unbridled pain. “Get it off me! Get it off me!” She ripped off her surcoat and her chainmail shirt and dug at the flesh on her throat and neck. “Get it off me!”
Morfyd hit the girl with a spell that knocked her out instantly. Annwyl fell back and Morfyd looked closely at her.
“What are those markings?” Gwenvael asked, next to her.
“I don’t know.” Morfyd ran her hand along the flesh and felt something right under the skin. Something imbedded in the girl’s flesh. Something that she knew hadn’t been there a few hours before. Within seconds the markings turned a deep rich brown and Morfyd gasped. “The Chain of Beathag!”
Gwenvael stared in awe. “She gave her that?”
Briec snorted in disgust. “The only reason she gave that to this human was because of Fearghus.”
