Dragon Actually dk-1

by G. A. Aiken

“Well, she never liked you,” Gwenvael muttered.

  “Amazing breasts,” Éibhear noted casually.

  “Would you control yourself,” Morfyd snapped at her oversized baby brother. She lifted the girl up. “Help me get her clothes back on. We need to get her out of here quickly and don’t let the others see.” The dragon court would find out about the queen’s gift soon enough.

  Her chainmail was scorched. Her hair was darker, the gold streaks that ran through it brighter. And her skin looked like she’d spent several days under the hot desert suns of Alsandair. But other than that, Annwyl lived.

  They dressed her quickly and stood her up; Gwenvael took one arm, Briec the other. Morfyd muttered a counter spell and Annwyl awoke, still screaming.

  “Annwyl!” She’d made sure to put a healing spell on her chest to stop the pain. She grabbed the girl by the face and yelled her name again.

  Annwyl finally stopped screaming. She looked around.

  “Better?”

  Annwyl’s eyes latched on to her, and that infamous rage exploded around her. “What did that bitch do to me?”

  “I heard that!” The siblings all cringed and began dragging Annwyl down the stairs, ignoring the girl’s angry protests. But when she shuddered and began to shake uncontrollably, they stopped.

  Morfyd pushed the girl’s hair from her face. “You all right, Annwyl?”

  After a few moments, Annwyl nodded. Gods, the girl carried some strength within her. More strength than even some dragons possessed.

  “I’ll be fine. Just give me a bit . . .” Annwyl’s eyes focused on Éibhear. “Your hair is blue.”

  “I’m a blue dragon,” he announced with his usual pride. Morfyd rolled her eyes. Éibhear did love his blue hair.

  Annwyl glanced at Morfyd. “Another brother?”

  Morfyd shrugged as they went up another flight of stairs, meeting Bercelak at the top.

  He looked down at Annwyl. “So she survived?”

  “Looks that way, Father.” Morfyd answered, a little smugly.

  Annwyl, still supported by Gwenvael and Briec, raised her head and looked at Bercelak with narrowed accusing eyes. “Why is the queen chained inside her chamber?”

  Morfyd closed her eyes in utter embarrassment. For the love of . . .

  Bercelak’s relationship with their mother never failed to either embarrass or annoy all their children. If she didn’t know for a fact that they loved each other more than anything, Morfyd would have divorced herself from the clan long ago out of sheer disgust.

  Her father grinned. “Did she complain?” Morfyd and Briec exchanged mortified glances while Gwenvael and Éibhear bit back their laughter.

  Annwyl shook her head. “No.”

  “Then what do you care what goes on between me and my mate?”

  Annwyl stared thoughtfully at him, then recognition dawned. “Oh, by the gods!”

  “Time to go!” Morfyd started moving again. “The suns will rise soon.”

  “Yes. All of you must be off.”

  Morfyd stopped and looked at her father. “All of us?” She’d already talked her brothers into helping Fearghus, but they were planning to do it without Bercelak’s knowledge. Now it seemed their father finally realized the danger of Lorcan and Hefaidd-Hen winning this battle and perhaps the Sibling War.

  “Aye. You can’t let your brother fight alone with some humans. You all must go with him. I will stay here with the queen.”

  “I bet you will,” Annwyl muttered under her breath.

  The siblings exchanged glances as Bercelak began pushing them toward the exit. “Go. Now. You haven’t much time.”

  “Wait!” Morfyd watched as her younger sister, Keita, in human form ran toward them. She wore a beautiful gown, probably given to her by some noble who thought her a sweet maid before he took her to bed and found out otherwise. Well, perhaps a noble, his brother, and his cousin took her to bed. All at the same time. Slut. “Sorry I’m late!”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Daddy asked me to come.” She gave a toss of her long red hair before smiling up at Bercelak who smiled back and patted her shoulder.

  “‘Daddy asked me to come,’” Morfyd mimicked brutally. Her sister sneered at her and she wanted to kick Daddy’s little princess in the face, but Annwyl’s voice stopped her.

  “Exactly how many are in your family?”

  “Too many,” all the siblings answered at once.

  Chapter 17

  Danelin lived the first nine years of his life in Garbhán Isle’s dungeons. He’d been battling the troops of the Isle since he turned twelve. And learned to fear nothing besides the Siblings’ wrath, which all men of any intelligence feared.

  Until the day the black dragon landed in the middle of their camp. For the first time he learned the meaning of true fear. Seeing the black talons of the beast touch down. Watching the mighty horned head turn slowly as it watched the troops surrounding it. Hearing it roar Annwyl’s name. He thought he would never experience fear quite like that again.

  He turned out to be very wrong.

  Standing across from a dragon who had shapeshifted into a man and explaining to him how his lady love left, but “Don’t worry, she’ll be back soon enough,” introduced him to a whole new world of fear. Especially when the dragon stood naked across from him and Brastias, big arms crossed in front of a big chest, big legs braced firmly apart and, most disturbingly, black smoke curling from his nostrils.

  Luckily they had already sent the troops ahead. But the two suns were rising and he needed to get Brastias to the village. Someone needed to lead since they really had no idea when Annwyl would return. Although he and Brastias had no intention of telling the dragon that. Of course now they realized they should never have told the dragon about Annwyl while his big body blocked the exit. Now he stood between them and the way out of the tent.

  And the dragon wasn’t moving.

  “So you just let her leave?”

  Danelin exchanged glances with Brastias.

  Brastias raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you haven’t actually met Annwyl the Bloody, but you don’t let her or not let her go anywhere. You just stay out of her way.”

  Danelin forced himself not to cower as the dragon growled in displeasure.

  He watched the two humans stare at him. Brastias looked annoyed. The boy looked like he might start screaming at any second. He knew he shouldn’t take his anger at Annwyl out on these two men, but they were here and she was not.

  The last thing he remembered was her slipping that lovely body out of bed with whispered promises to return quickly. He awoke several hours later to the sounds of Annwyl’s troops moving out. He also discovered his bed cold and no sign of his woman. A feeling, he found, he did not relish.

  By the time he dragged his human body out of bed, most of the troops were gone, leaving Brastias and the boy. He cornered them in one of the supply tents and refused to let them go. Their cavalier attitude about Annwyl’s disappearance with his sister did nothing but raise his anger. Where Morfyd may have taken her, he could only guess. But if he guessed right, his sister would pay.

  “She’s not our responsibility, dragon. Nor is she yours.”

  He had to admit, Brastias turned out to be a lot braver than he thought. The boy, though, didn’t look like he could handle much more. But he wasn’t done with them. Soon he would start threatening body parts, but a hand on his bare shoulder stopped him.

  “There you all are.” Annwyl smiled. “Everything all right?”

  Fearghus scowled. “No. Everything’s not all right. Where the hell have you been?”

  “Discuss later. Fight war now.” Obeying a motion of her head, Brastias and the boy quickly left. “You better not have been terrorizing them.”

  “Annwyl.” He caught her arm. “What’s going on?” He looked at her face and wondered what was different. The two suns had just begun to rise, darkness still filled the tent, so he couldn’t see all that clearly, but he knew
something had changed.

  “Later. Right now my people need me, Fearghus.” She reached up and kissed him lightly. “Trust me.”

  He brushed his head against her cheek and breathed in her scent. “Try not to get yourself killed, Annwyl.”

  She laughed. “Why do all of you keep telling me that?”

  He kissed her, long and deep until she pulled away. He enjoyed the fact that it seemed to be a struggle for her.

  “We . . . uh . . . better go.” She stared at his lips for a moment longer, then, with a deep sigh of regret, stepped away from him and through the tent opening.

  He followed, but stumbled upon finding his siblings waiting for him. All his siblings.

  “Took you two long enough,” Briec snapped.

  “What exactly were you two doing in there?” Gwenvael smirked.

  “Big brother!” Keita spread her wings wide, completely blocking out Morfyd.

  Morfyd slammed her claw down, causing the ground to shake. “You do that one more time, Keita, and I’ll start taking pieces of you right here!”

  “Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go!” Éibhear took off and continued to swoop around the group, “Come on! We’ll miss all the best kills!”

  Fearghus glared at Annwyl. She backed away from him with a shrug. “They wanted to help.”

  “When we’re done with your brother, woman, we will discuss this.”

  “Promises. Promises.” Annwyl leered as she quickly strapped her swords to her back, leather gauntlets on her wrists, and tied her hair back with a long leather strap.

  Fearghus walked out into the middle of the campsite and shifted, doing his best to ignore his squabbling kin. He shook out his mane and turned to Annwyl as she secured her swords to her back.

  “Lady Annwyl?”

  Annwyl finished adjusting her weapons. “Lord Dragon?”

  “I think it is time we make you queen.”

  Annwyl nodded once . . . and smiled.

  Brastias rolled on his side, avoiding the warhammer aimed at his head. He stood and brought his ax up, splitting the man from groin to neck.

  “Behind you!” Brastias didn’t turn but swung his ax back and up. He took off a soldier’s sword arm, then turned to finish the man off. Prying his ax from the man’s corpse, he glanced at Danelin who called the warning.

  “Where is she, Brastias?” the warrior yelled over the din of battle.

  “She’ll be here.”

  “Well, she and those dragons better be here soon.”

  “Why?”

  Danelin pointed to the sky and Brastias turned to see why the color drained from his lieutenant’s face. It wasn’t just that it was a dragon. Or that Lorcan rode him. But the fact that they were not alone. Eight other dragons flew with them, geared for battle.

  Brastias cringed. Things just became more difficult.

  As they flew toward battle, Fearghus gave explicit instructions, while Annwyl clung to his back. “Lorcan belongs to Annwyl. Hefaidd-Hen is mine. Kill every one else who wears Lorcan’s colors. Understand?”

  “Wait. Is that it? Has our brother no words of wisdom before we go into battle?” Gwenvael demanded with sarcasm.

  “As a matter of fact, I do. Don’t get killed.” Morfyd and Keita laughed as they moved out. His three brothers following.

  “And Annwyl. Remember what I told you.”

  “Protect my right side?”

  “No.”

  “Feint with my left?”

  “No.”

  “Nice ass.”

  “No!” His growl of annoyance only elicited a sweet chuckle from his woman.

  “Watch my rage, heart of my heart?”

  “Condescending cow.”

  Chapter 18

  The ball of flame narrowly missed her and she desperately clung to Fearghus’s neck and hair as he spun and dove down toward the middle of the battle. For several agonizing moments her world turned upside down and she felt certain she would retch at any second, when the dragon thankfully righted himself. She didn’t care what he said, she was getting him a saddle.

  As they neared the ground she caught sight of Brastias. “There! Land me there!”

  Fearghus dropped lower, plowed through a contingent of horse-mounted soldiers, and slid to a halt in front of a startled Brastias.

  Annwyl slipped off the dragon’s back. She unsheathed both her swords and turned to her dragon-lover.

  The two stared at each other.

  “Stay well, Lady Annwyl.”

  “Stay alive, Lord Dragon.”

  Fearghus unfurled his mighty wings and lifted off into the air to join the battle already raging with the other dragons and his siblings.

  “We’re glad you’re here.” Brastias stood beside her now, covered in blood, the majority of which she doubted belonged to him.

  “Sorry I took so long, my friend.” She tested the weight of her blades. As always they felt good in her hands. She was ready.

  “Where is he, Brastias?”

  “Up there.” He pointed to a ridge where she could hear the war cries of men. But between her and her brother lay a battery of troops screaming for her blood.

  One soldier ran for her, the blood lust having grabbed hold of his mind. She brought her two swords together, stepping aside as the man’s head snapped off his body.

  Annwyl smiled at Brastias. “Perhaps you should let me take this from here.”

  She wondered what he saw on her face when she looked at him, because he visibly blanched and backed away from her. “As always, Annwyl. They’re all yours.”

  Annwyl smiled and charged in, killing all that stood in her way and did not wear the colors of her army.

  A bolt of lightning hit Fearghus dead in the chest. He flew back with a roar. Leave it to Hefaidd-Hen to find lightning dragons. Purple beasts from the Northlands with awesome powers, but he already tired of the stinging pain their lightning caused. Plus, he knew they were singeing his hair.

  He could see Gwenvael coming up behind the dragon. He moved in again to distract him and barely missed the bolt the beast sent out. As the dragon reared back to send out another, Gwenvael wrapped his maw around his neck and held it. Fearghus dived in and slammed his talons into the beast’s groin and belly, ripping up. The dragon roared in pain as he lost his bowels over the battlefield. And when they released him he dropped to the ground, taking out some of Lorcan’s men in the process.

  The two brothers stared at each other. They got along at no other time as when they were in battle together. And Fearghus finally admitted to himself it brought him joy that his family fought with him this day.

  The two brothers separated and Fearghus went over to help Morfyd. But as she dispensed with two dragons, one with flame the other with a spell, he wasn’t quite sure why he’d bothered.

  Then he saw Éibhear tumble past him. He caught his brother’s arm before he could fall to the ground while he hit the enemy dragon with flame, knocking the beast back.

  “Éibhear! Are you all right?” he demanded in the ancient language of dragons.

  “Aye, brother. That bitch caught me by surprise, is all.”

  “Well, watch your back, pup. I’ll never hear the end of it if anything happens to you. You she likes.”

  Éibhear took to the air once again, going after the bitch dragon who had just tried to kill him.

  “Morfyd!” Fearghus flew to his sister. “Hefaidd-Hen. Where is he?”

  His sister closed her eyes and tried to reach out with her Magick to find the dragon. Suddenly her eyes snapped open and she looked at her brother.

  “What is it?”

  “Annwyl.”

  Annwyl tore through her brother’s troops. Most of them she beheaded as was her way. She only wasted time with arms and legs when the head wasn’t readily available. And she only took those limbs to slow the enemy down long enough so she could take the head.

  A soldier dived for her. She blocked his blow and brought her other sword down cleaving off half his skul
l and silencing the man’s screams. She turned as another soldier hoped to sneak up on her from behind. She gutted him, which she also liked to do. Especially when her blade released the entrails.

  She realized with a smile that she truly did earn her name. She really was Annwyl the Bloody. And proud of it. But she tired of wasting herself on these men. She wanted her brother. She wanted his head. And by the gods, she would have it.

  She killed off two more soldiers stupid enough to get in her way, and then charged up the ridge, screaming for Lorcan. As she made it to the top, she slid to a halt in the wet grass. Lorcan waited for her. Waited for her with his dragon.

  She glanced behind her and realized that more of his troops blocked her escape.

  Annwyl glared at her brother. “Afraid to face me yourself, Lorcan?” He wouldn’t even meet her eyes. “Can’t you answer me, brother?”

  “You can direct your questions to me, Lady Annwyl.”

  She looked at what could only be Hefaidd-Hen. Unlike Fearghus and his kin, she saw no beauty in this beast. No sense of grace or elegance. Just a cold-blooded killer. His dragon body appeared almost skeletal. His color a sickening maggot white. His dragon eyes a pale, watery blue. Just looking at him made her skin crawl.

  “Are you ruler of Dark Plains now, Hefaidd-Hen?”

  “I am merely counsel to Lorcan.”

  “And what has been your counsel to my brother?”

  “That he should not waste his time killing you. He should leave that to me.”

  Annwyl stilled her panic. The queen supposedly gave her a gift that would help her fight Hefaidd-Hen. She had no idea what her flames would do, but she prayed that the queen really did help her. She prayed hard. For although she could hear Brastias calling to his men, hear them battling to get through the line of troops separating her from them, she still knew. She knew, as Hefaidd-Hen reared back to take in a lungful of air, that they would never get to her in time.

  She looked at her brother. “No matter what happens, this isn’t over, brother.”

  Fearghus flew as fast as he could, Morfyd doing her best to keep up with him, calling his name. He ignored her. Morfyd saw the ambush. An ambush for Annwyl only. As strong as she was now, she would never be able to face Hefaidd-Hen down. Never be able to win against him. He wasn’t just a dragon, but a wizard as well. His flame, like Morfyd’s on occasion, would be rife with Magick.