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 skull 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.
But as he closed in on the ridge his woman now stood on, he could see he wouldn’t be in time. No matter how fast he flew. No matter what he did. He would lose her.
Brastias couldn’t clear the enemy troops and make it up the ridge before the foul beast sent a blast that completely covered his leader in a white-hot flame. And no ordinary flame, like the one he saw her dragon-lover spew. But something different. And seemingly a waste of Magick, considering she was just a girl.
But when the flame and smoke cleared, there she still stood. Her eyes shut tight, her face turned away. Everything as it should be. Even her chainmail and surcoat.
Brastias stopped. That wasn’t possible. There should be nothing of her left. Not even ash.
He saw the dragon rear back in confusion as Annwyl slowly opened her eyes and looked around. She most likely expected to see those of her ancestors welcoming her to the next world. Instead her eyes focused on a startled and a little bit disturbed Brastias.
She grinned and wiggled her eyebrows at him. “She’s bloody mad,” he whispered as she swung around and looked at the dragon.
“Did you miss?” she asked sweetly.
The dragon looked as if he were about to answer, but he never got the chance. Fearghus swooped down and snatched him up. The beautiful Morfyd right behind him.
Brastias threw himself back into the fray, but not before he heard Annwyl address Lorcan. “I guess it’s just us then. Eh, brother?”
Lorcan smiled. Things had turned in his favor. He knew he couldn’t battle Hefaidd-Hen on his own. He’d killed dragons before. But Hefaidd-Hen wasn’t just a dragon. He was something completely different. Unnatural. Unholy. Evil. But with Hefaidd-Hen off battling his own kind, Lorcan could finally do what he’d wanted to do since the day the little bitch became part of his life.