Chapter
3
The next morning Vigholf walked into
his brother’s war room and asked the question that had been
plaguing him all night. “Know anyone who can fix a
spear?”
“A spear?” Ragnar the Cunning glanced
up from his scrolls. “When did you start fighting with spears
again?”
“Not my spear.” He sat back on his
haunches and gazed over what Ragnar was looking at. “What’s
this?”
“The tunnel plans.” For nearly seven
months they’d had their troops digging out a tunnel that would lead
them directly under the Polycarp Mountains and right into the
Irons’ stronghold. Once in, they could take the Irons unaware and
destroy them. At least that was the current plan. Whether it would
work or not was anyone’s guess, but it was better than sitting
around and waiting for something to happen. “It shouldn’t be much
longer now.”
“Good. Because the Irons are getting
bolder.”
“Why do you say that?” Ragnar
asked.
“Another attempt to get in here. Don’t
know what they think they’ll find, though.”
“How many were there this
time?”
“About ten trying to get our attention
and three Elites trying to sneak past.”
Ragnar looked up again. “Only
three?”
“Yes.” Vigholf saw a pile of dried and
smoked cows’ legs in the corner and he went over and grabbed one.
“Which is why I say I don’t understand what they’re doing. Coming
to spy, maybe?”
“Perhaps.” Ragnar sat back on his
haunches. “Or they know about the tunnel or they’ve found a
weakness here. Something we’ve missed.”
“Don’t be so paranoid.” Vigholf ripped
the flesh off the cow’s leg with his fangs. “We didn’t miss
anything, we’ve got all the entrances and exits covered. And if
they knew about the tunnels, Thracius would have destroyed them by
now.”
“You don’t know that.”
Meinhard walked in and Vigholf tossed
him a cow’s leg as well. “Ragnar’s being paranoid.”
“When isn’t he?”
“We can’t afford for anyone to get in
here,” Ragnar reminded them. “So do me a favor and see if we may
have missed any more possible entrances.”
“You’re asking for a favor?” Vigholf
said.
“Like we’re old chums?” Meinhard
added.
Fed up, Ragnar snapped, slamming his
claws against the thick wood table. “Do what I tell
you!”
“No need to get snappy,” Meinhard
muttered, and Vigholf hid his smile behind the cow’s
leg.
“Bastards,” Ragnar complained with a
snarl, but it quickly turned to a smile when the lovely Princess
Keita walked in.
“Oooh,” she cheered. “All these
handsome males in one place. It makes a girl so
happy!”
Ragnar held his claw out and Keita took
it, allowing him to pull her tight against his side.
“The Irons tried to get in here again.
It’s making me concerned,” Ragnar murmured to her.
“It’ll be fine.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But I’m glad you’re
going with Ren to Dark Plains.”
“Ren’s leaving?” Vigholf asked. Ren of
the Chosen was what the Northlanders termed a “foreign dragon,”
which meant he was from somewhere none of them had ever been
before. Specifically the Eastland territories across the sea. He’d
turned out to be a helpful ally. Good fighting skills and he could
work Magick as well. It helped during the heat of
battle.
“He’s needed in Dark Plains,” Ragnar
answered while he studied Keita’s face. “And Keita’s going with
him.”
“Your brother is trying to get rid of
me.”
“You know I’m not.”
“And we like having you here,” Vigholf
volunteered. “You’re the only reason Ragnar’s even remotely
pleasant.”
“Thank you,” Ragnar said
flatly.
Keita petted Ragnar’s neck. “I could
stay. If you need me to.”
“I do need you. But I’ll feel better if
you’re far away from here.” He squeezed her. “Go with Ren. He’ll
appreciate the company.”
“About that . . .” Keita went up on the
tips of her claws and began whispering in Ragnar’s ear. Vigholf
glanced at Meinhard, but his cousin was too busy sucking the marrow
from that cow leg to notice anything.
“You sure?” Ragnar asked.
Keita nodded. “She’s the best
choice.”
“Perhaps, but I doubt she’ll be happy
about it.”
“She’ll do it for me. Besides, I’m
betting she’d like some time away from my aunt.”
“I’ll feel better if it’s her. She’s
good.”
“And you don’t like the idea of me
being alone with Ren,” she teased. “But he knows that I’m
your Battle
Twat!”
“It’s maid, Keita!” Ragnar complained
over Vigholf and Meinhard’s laughter. “It’s Battle
Maid. Not Battle Twat or
Battle Slut or Battle Slag. Battle. Maid.”
She giggled and slipped away from him,
silently walking out of the room.
“What was that about?” Vigholf
asked.
“Protection detail for the flight back
to the Southlands.”
“Why would they need that? The
foreigner can handle himself and Keita, quite well.”
Ragnar began to say something, stopped.
Thought a moment and finally said, “He might be distracted. It’s
best he has a guard. Especially with Keita traveling with
him.”
“Who? One of her brothers? Gods,”
Vigholf quickly added, “not the boy.”
“No. Éibhear stays here. And I need
Fearghus and Briec here as well. We’re sending one of the cousins
instead.” He flicked his claws. “Keep this quiet for now, and we
can discuss later.”
“A Cadwaladr, though?” Vigholf pushed.
“Willing to leave battle to be protection detail for a couple of
royals?” He shook his head. “It will never happen.”
“And you know Keita won’t take no for
an answer,” Ragnar reminded him. “My dragoness always knows how to
get what she wants. No matter how bloody annoying she has to be to
do it.”
Although Rhona had been unable to find
time the previous eve to bathe after several additional things came
up that needed her attention, she’d finally managed to sneak away
during first meal. Now she stood under the waterfall and let the
water pour down on her. It felt wonderful against her scales,
pounding the tension out of her body and massaging her
muscles.
Aaaaaah. Just what she needed. A chance
to relax and simply enjoy the quiet and—
“Cousin!”
Rhona faced the cave wall, refusing to
be interrupted. Refusing to let her kin invade what had become an
almost sacred thing for her—a bath. A gods-damn bath.
“Rhona, you’re so funny,” Keita said,
moving closer. “I know you can hear me.”
Letting out a sigh, realizing she
couldn’t avoid this, Rhona faced her cousin, but she refused to be
moved from her spot under the waterfall.
“What is it, Keita?”
“I wanted to see how you’re doing. And
to tell you how pretty you look with your warrior braids in your
hair. Ever thought of adding ribbons to—”
“No.” Rhona examined her cousin. She
was buttering Rhona up for something. “I will never put ribbons in
my hair. Now, what do you want, Keita?”
“Well—”
“If you dance around this any more, I’m
going to get tense.”
“All right, all right. No need to
threaten. I just need a small favor.”
“There are no small favors where you’re
concerned. So just get it out.”
“I need you to escort me and Ren back
to Dark Plains.”
“No.”
Keita frowned. “What do you mean
‘no’?”
“I mean no. I mean you’re up to
something, Keita the Viper, and I’m not getting in the middle of
it.” Then again, Keita was always up to something. Although rarely
mentioned, this particular war was, in fact, down to the actions of
Keita the Viper when she’d lobbed the head of the Overlord’s wife
at him in the middle of the Province’s main arena. After that
particular move, the war was pretty much a foregone conclusion.
And, as far as Rhona was concerned, all Keita’s fault.
“Oh, come now,” Keita pushed. “That’s
not fair. And I really need you to do this for me.”
“We both know Ren can take care of
himself, he needs no escort.”
“I’m going with him as
well.”
“He’s capable of escorting you, too.”
Confused, Rhona asked, “Isn’t that something you two do all the
time? Travel around the world with Ren as your
escort?”
“He’ll be busy.”
“Busy with what?”
“Things.”
“Forget it.” Rhona began to turn away
again, but Keita caught her forearm.
“Look, I can’t really go into this. At
least not here.” Keita leaned in and whispered loudly so she could
be heard over the rushing water, “The cave walls have
ears.”
“Those are called bats.”
“Och! Why must you argue
everything?”
“Because you’re trying to pull me into
your insanity. I won’t go, cousin.”
“I need you, Rhona. This is
important.”
Rhona grunted.
“If you don’t believe me, ask Ragnar.
He’ll tell you.”
Beginning to believe her cousin was
sincere—Keita would never send Rhona to Ragnar the Cunning unless
she really was telling the truth—Rhona asked, “Why do you need to
go back?”
“Ragnar would feel safer with me in
Dark Plains.”
“So would I. This is no place for you,
Keita.”
“Then you best take me back to Garbhán
Isle.” The human queen’s seat of power in Dark Plains.
“I can’t,” Rhona admitted, thinking of
all she had to do. “But I’ll see if the triplets—”
“No!” Keita barked, startling Rhona.
“They’ll be missed.”
“What do you mean they’ll
be—”
“Everyone will notice if they’re gone,
and ask questions. I can’t have any questions asked. So your
brothers can’t go either. Or any of your siblings. This needs to be
done quietly.”
Rhona put her claws on her hips and
glared down at her much smaller cousin. “Did you only pick me
because no one would notice if I was gone?”
“It’s not that they wouldn’t notice
you’re gone.... They’d just be glad you are.”
“Well, thank you very
much!”
Keita’s tail slammed down into the
water. “You’re taking this the wrong way!”
“How else am I supposed to take it?”
“That’s it!” Keita slashed her claws
through the air. “I am Daughter of Queen Rhiannon, low-born cousin,
and as a lowly soldier you’ll do as I say!”
Without speaking, Rhona moved
forward—and kept moving forward until her cousin had been backed
into the far wall.
“All right! All right!” Keita brought
up her claws to ward Rhona off. “No need to get
testy!”
“Then watch that you don’t irritate me,
cousin.”
“Please, Rhona. Once we’re free of this
place, I can explain everything. But not here, not now. And I’m
asking you to do this because I trust you. Ren trusts you. And you
know the pair of us trust few.”
Damn her. Keita always knew how to get
her way. Yet Rhona did have to admit that her cousin—for
once—appeared sincere. And a bit worried. Keita was never worried
about anything.
“Ragnar will know, yeah? That I’m with
you? That I’m following orders? If it comes up. Don’t need my kin
thinking I’m a deserter.”
“Of course they won’t!” Keita again put
her claw on Rhona’s forearm. “Trust me. When this is all said and
done, you’ll be seen as a hero.”
Rhona chuckled. “Don’t need all that.
Just don’t get me tossed into your mum’s dungeons and we’ll be
fine.”
Keita’s grin was bright and pretty.
“That I can manage!”
Vigholf looked up from his fifth cow
leg when Keita returned to the chamber. Meinhard had headed out,
but Vigholf, wanting to know more about what was going on, had
stayed.
Keita smiled at Vigholf as she passed
and sashayed her way over to Ragnar.
He’d admit it. Vigholf didn’t
understand his brother. Keita had been with Ragnar for five years
now, even coming with him when they moved from their Northland home
to this valley. And although she’d been forced to stay in this cave
with cranky soldiers and pesky kin, she never once complained or
seemed unhappy. And yet Ragnar still hadn’t Claimed her. He still
hadn’t put his mark upon her that would let every dragon know that
Keita’s heart belonged to him and him alone. What the dragon was
waiting for, Vigholf had no idea. The war gods knew that Vigholf
wouldn’t have waited if he had a She-dragon ready to be his mate.
Good females were too hard to come by. And Keita was one of the
best. Pretty, smart, charming, elegant, and very loyal. Those
dragons who dare question Ragnar’s rule as Dragonlord of the Hordes
usually ended up with uncomfortable rashes under their scales,
unexplainable hair loss, or coughing up blood. After several cases
of that sort of thing happening, the rest of them learned to keep
quiet or, at the very least, not complain about Ragnar in front of
Keita.
“All set,” she said,
smiling.
“Good.” Ragnar brushed his claw against
her cheek. “I’ll miss you.”
“Of course you will. I’m
amazing.”
“You’re leaving now?” Vigholf
asked.
“Sssh,” Keita whispered. “Not so loud.
We’re doing this quietly.”
“Why?”
“I’ll explain it later,” Ragnar said.
“Give us a few minutes.”
Vigholf nodded and headed toward the
exit. But he stopped, worried. “And your escort is not Éibhear,
right?”
“You know, he’s improved greatly in
five years,” Keita reminded him, always so protective of her
oversized baby brother. Emphasis on the baby.
“Your escort isn’t Éibhear,
right?”
Keita let out a breath. “No. It’s not.
He’ll be staying here with you lot. And I expect you to take good
care of him.”
“He’s not alone, Keita.” Ragnar glanced
at Vigholf. “He has his brothers to watch out for
him.”
“And we all know they
won’t!”
Vigholf and Ragnar laughed. It was
true. That poor Blue’s brothers were harder on him than any of the
Northland dragons ever were, but it was evident Éibhear was
starting to get a little tired of it. That is, when he wasn’t too
busy fighting with his cousin Celyn.
When Keita began to tap one talon of
her back claw against the hard floor, Vigholf stopped laughing even
if Ragnar didn’t.
“So who is going with you?” Vigholf pushed, not
liking any of this.
“One of my cousins. But, as I said,
let’s keep this quiet.”
“Why?”
“Ragnar can explain it
later.”
“Why can’t he explain it
now?”
“Don’t be annoying,
Vigholf.”
“Then answer my question.”
Keita’s eyes narrowed and she took a
step forward. To do what, Vigholf didn’t know, but Ragnar held her
back by placing a claw on her shoulder.
“Keita and Ren are being escorted by
the finest soldier Her Majesty’s Army has . . . Sergeant
Rhona.”
Vigholf rolled his eyes.
“Her?”
“What’s wrong with Rhona?” Keita
snapped.
“If you’d asked me that a couple of
days ago, I would have said absolutely nothing.”
“And today?”
“She’s overworked and she
whines.”
“Rhona? Whine? I didn’t think she even
knew the meaning of that word. And why would she
whine?”
“Because I broke her precious
spear.”
Keita gasped, eyes wide. “You broke
Rhona’s spear?”
“It was an—”
“Her father gave her that spear. He
made it for her.”
“The blacksmith, yes?” Ragnar
asked.
“Uncle Sulien. He used to live in a
volcano.”
Frowning, Vigholf asked,
“Why?”
“He was born there. His whole family
was. They’re Volcano dragons. All that heat and dwarves nearby . .
. they’ve become excellent blacksmiths and glassworkers over the
last millennium or so. He can make all sorts of incredible weapons.
My father hates Uncle Sulien, though,” she added offhandedly. “Have
no idea why. But it’s a deep, resentful hate. More hate than he has
for most dragons.” She grinned. “I like him, though. He always
brought me warm treats like little lambs or newborn calves, still
bleating away.”
Ragnar shook his head.
“Lovely.”
“I think you should take someone else,”
Vigholf told Keita. “A couple of my cousins should
work.”
“Why? What’s wrong with
my cousin?” Keita briefly
pursed her lips. “Or is the fact she’s lacking a cock your main
problem with her?”
“That sounds amazingly wrong,” Ragnar
noted.
Vigholf sighed. “She cries over a
broken spear—”
“That a father she adores gave
her!”
“—and can any Cadwaladr female say she
doesn’t have a cock?”
“Very funny.”
“Besides, you need stronger protection
than the Babysitter.”
Keita gasped again. “Are you the one
who started calling her that? She hates that nickname.” She shrugged.
“Although she was my babysitter for a time. When my nanny was
off.”
“Are you even listening to me?” Vigholf
demanded.
“Not particularly, no. I know Rhona.
She’ll keep me and Ren safe. Of that I have no doubt.”
“Well, I do.”
“Then you can go with
them.”
Vigholf looked at his brother.
“What?”
“If you’re that worried, you go with
Keita and Ren.”
“I have a war to fight
here.”
“And while we get everything in place
and finish the tunnel, you have time to go to the Southlands and
get back before you’re even missed.”
“I’m a commander. I can’t just wander
off.”
“You’re not wandering off. I’m ordering
you off.” Which made Vigholf chuckle until his brother’s glare
stopped him.
“Besides,” Ragnar continued. “You can
check on Mother.” Their mother, along with all the Northland
She-dragons, had been sent to the Southlands for her own safety
when they’d moved to Euphrasia. A decision that had confused all
the Southland She-dragons. “Can’t they fight?” Bradana had asked.
“Most of ’em may be missing a wing, but not their claws or
legs.”
And although Vigholf could speak to his
mother with his mind anytime he wanted, he still greatly missed her
presence. “And wouldn’t you feel better keeping an eye on the
sergeant? Just to make sure she doesn’t make any huge mistakes in her overworked, tired
state.”
His brother did have a point. And it
wasn’t like they were in the Northlands. Euphrasia Valley was much
closer to all the borders. They could be in the Southlands and then
Dark Plains rather quickly, drop off the royals, and be back in
just a few days to finish off the Irons. Yes. That worked. And,
while they were traveling, if he could find the Babysitter a new
weapon, something a little more . . . appropriate for her age, all
the better.
“All right then. When are we
leaving?”
“Within the hour,” Keita said. “But
remember, not a word to anyone.”
“And you’ll tell me what’s going on
once we’re on our way?”
“I will. Promise.”
Rhona met the triplets in what they
called their “safe place.” The one place their mother would never
be seen. In other words . . . the makeshift library.
She motioned them behind some tall
piles of books and took another look around.
“What’s wrong, Rhona?” Edana
asked.
“Nothing. But I need your word that
you’ll not repeat what I’m about to tell you.”
“Of course not,” Nesta promised. “You
know you can trust us, sister.”
She smiled at the She-dragons whom,
with her father, she’d raised. Of all her siblings, the triplets
made her the most proud. They’d make mighty warriors one day and
even better leaders.
“I’m off for a few days. Shouldn’t be
gone long.”
“Off? To where?”
She couldn’t help but roll her eyes a
little at Nesta’s question. “To protect the Royal Princess Keita on
her way back to the Southlands.”
Edana frowned. “And we can’t repeat
that . . . why exactly?”
“I have no idea. But Keita was adamant
that I could tell no one.”
“But you’re telling us,” Breena
remarked, smirking. “Bad She-dragon.”
“I know. I know. But this is Keita I’m
dealing with. Who the hell knows what she’s up to and why she feels
the need to keep it quiet. But I at least want you three to know,
in case something happens. Especially if Mum finds out. The last
thing I need right now is for her to think—”
“You’re a deserter?”
“Exactly.”
Nesta shook her head. “Mum knows better
than that.”
“Well, she’s a little pissed at me
right now. So I don’t want to test her.”
“Good idea,” Edana agreed. “So where
exactly are you taking Keita?”
“Back to Dark Plains.”
“Awww,” the triplets said at the same
time. “You’ll see Daddy!”
That made Rhona smile. “Aye. I will.”
Her father had been working Annwyl the Bloody’s forge since the war
began. It was a huge forge and her father had many talented
blacksmiths under him. Some dragon, others human. It was a good
place for him to be since he didn’t get along too well with those
in Devenallt Mountain, the Southland dragons’ stronghold. He
especially didn’t get along with Uncle Bercelak, as those two had
never been friendly. “I’ll make sure to bring you a few weapons
from his collection.”
Nesta and Breena clapped and cheered
softly, still conscious of how sound traveled around cave walls,
but Edana, always the more serious one, frowned. “Be careful,
Rhona. I adore our cousin, but Keita is reckless and plays where
she should not.”
“I’m well aware of how our cousin
operates, sister. I have my guard up. Now I need you to do the
same.”
“Don’t worry, Rhona,” Edana told her
with a small smile, “we’ll handle Mum.”
Keita watched the big Lightning leave
before she faced the dragon she adored—although she still hadn’t
told Ragnar that she adored him. It wasn’t good to give a male that
sort of information too early in the relationship. And yes! Five
years was still too early in the relationship, no matter what her
pesky aunts may believe.
“Why did you insist Vigholf go?” she
asked.
“Because he would have driven me insane
until Rhona returned. He won’t admit it, but he keeps an eye on
her.”
“Whatever for?”
He smiled. She loved that smile.
“Because he fancies her and has since the very beginning, I’d
wager.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Keita admitted.
“She hates him. Calls him the pest. One should never be a pest to a
Cadwaladr female. That never works out well.”
Ragnar pulled Keita against him. “You
shouldn’t underestimate my brother. Besides, the more protection
you have, the happier I’ll be.” Ragnar placed both claws on either
side of her face, gazed deep into her eyes. “Please, Keita. Please
. . . don’t be stupid.”
“Thank you very much,” she said on a
laugh.
“You know what I mean. You are, on your
best day, foolhardy. You take dangerous chances. Especially when it
comes to ensuring the safety of your kin.”
“I won’t do anything that will stop me
from helping my kin.”
“Are you sure we shouldn’t tell your
brothers?” Keita’s three eldest brothers commanded their own troops
with three generals reporting directly to each and the respective
number of legions under each prince’s banner. It had been many
years since Fearghus, Briec, and Gwenvael had led troops into
battle, but they’d done well from the beginning, impressing even
the hard-to-impress Northlanders with their skills.
“If Fearghus and Briec find out, they
will leave and take half of Mother’s army with them,
and the Cadwaladrs. You
can’t afford that right now and my brothers will not be stopped.
Not when it comes to this and no matter the protection you think is
in place in Garbhán Isle. But Ren and I can handle this without
going through all that.”
“And bringing your
cousin?”
“Merely a formality to ensure our
safety. Ren will be working Magicks, and his strength will be
diminished. As will his focus. But Rhona will watch out for us like
a ferocious demon dog from the underworld.”
He finally smiled. “I wouldn’t say that
to her face.”
“No, no,” Keita replied with some
seriousness. “She’s not like her sisters and mother. She’d not find
that a compliment.”