“How could she not know?”
“When was the last time any Cadwaladr had to travel by ocean? Or take a boat anywhere?”
“Um . . .”
Aidan shook his head and looked up at the sky as Uther suddenly stated, “Branwen probably didn’t realize how she felt. She picked up the fear from her father, but she buried it under layers of Cadwaladr bravado and denial until she was faced with the actual reality of getting on a boat and going out on the ocean. Then she had to face her true fear and it overwhelmed her.”
Shocked, the three of them gawked at Uther.
“I know,” the dragon said confidently. “Emotions. They can torment you.”
Not knowing what to say to Uther, Aidan focused back on Keita. “You should have said something and you know you should have said something, but you didn’t because you didn’t want anything to get between you and us going to the Eastlands.”
“Oh, so what?” Keita asked. “It’s a beautiful day, we’re already on the boat, on our way to the Eastlands, and look at this . . .” She pointed at Brannie who’d suddenly sat up and, struggling a bit, got to her feet.
“Look at my beautiful cousin,” Keita said, her grin wide. “Bravely facing her fear!”
The boat pitched and Brannie stumbled into Keita. But always a warrior, Brannie slammed a foot against the hull behind Keita and grabbed her cousin by the arms, keeping them both safely on the boat.
The boat righted and Keita smiled up at her much bigger cousin, but her expression changed just as quickly to panic and she tried to pull away.
But Brannie’s grip tightened on Keita’s arms, holding her steady while she vomited on her again and again and . . . aye . . . a third time.
Mortified, Keita stood there, covered in dragon bile—which meant it was like lava—while Brannie stumbled back to Aidan’s side and sat down beside him.
“Heard everything?” he softly asked Branwen.
“Every gods-damn word,” she growled out.
* * *
Brannie didn’t know how long she’d slept after vomiting all over Keita, but the arguing woke her up as it had before.
She was still sitting on the floor of the boat, her legs bent, her knees under her chin. Seabirds and crows circled overhead, fighting each other, more aggressive than she’d ever seen them. The sky was overcast and forbidding even though she sensed it should still be light out.
“What’s going on?” she asked, shocked at how hoarse her voice was, how raw her throat. It hurt even to swallow.
“Well?” Uther barked. “Are you going to tell her?”
Brannie focused on Keita. “I see I need to vomit on you again. And I will.”
“It wasn’t me.” Keita pointed at the Riders. “It was her.”
Kachka and Nina moved back, leaving Zoya Kolesova to stand alone.
“I thought I helped,” she lazily said with a shrug.
Uther spread his arms out, motioning to the surrounding empty seas. “Does it look like you’re helping?”
“I will not get yelled at by weak male!”
“Fine!” Keita snapped. “I’ll yell at you!”
“What is wrong?” Brannie demanded even while her stomach roiled.
Keita faced her. “My plan was simple. Take a boat to the Eastlands, kill the Empress and all of her kin. See? Extremely simple.”
And stupid, but Brannie wasn’t going to add that at the moment. “So? We’re on a boat, headed to the Eastlands. I don’t see the problem.”
“Thank you, large-shouldered one!”
“Really?” Brannie snapped at Zoya. “Throwing boulders from that glass cave?”
“What you need to know,” Keita continued, “is that there are several ways to get to the Eastlands. There is a mystic doorway, which we cannot use because of the Zealots. Sailing northeast across the seas, which takes one around the Rock of the Blue Birds. This trip requires several weeks—”
“See?” Zoya interrupted. “I—”
Keita held up her hand and, to Brannie’s shock, Zoya stopped speaking.
“Several weeks that I had already built into our schedule, assuming that by the time we got there, the war in Outerplains would be over—one way or another—and I could do what I need to do before the news arrived in the Eastlands about Ren.”
“So the problem . . . ?” Brannie asked.
“Most ship captains who trade with the Eastlanders will tell you they will only go that way, despite the storm issues. It’s the northeast way or no way. But Zoya managed to find the one captain who goes the southeast way.”
“It is faster!” Zoya interjected. “We get there in two, three days tops.”
“Do you want to know how we get there in two or three days?” Keita asked gently.
Brannie thought a moment and finally answered honestly, “No. Not really.”
“We’ll get there in two or three days,” Keita said anyway, “if we survive. That’s a big if.”
“I thought I helped,” Zoya said with another shrug.
“Well, you didn’t!” Keita barked. “This is bad.”
“We are Riders,” Zoya explained. “You are dragon. We will be fine.”
“I don’t understand,” Brannie said, gratefully taking the canteen of fresh water that Aidan handed her. “What kind of ship captain would take such a dangerous route?”
“What kind, you ask?” Keita stepped back, her arm sweeping wide toward the front of the boat. “A Northlander!”
Covered in furs, the captain stood on the deck of his boat, laughing into the rising storm winds and telling his men that, “If all goes well, we will die with honor among the sea gods, my friends!”
The dragons and Riders turned their attention back to Zoya, who shrugged once more and said again, “I thought I helped.”
* * *
Aidan sat down next to Brannie and offered her dried meat. She waved it away with a distinct look of disgust on her face.
“While I am stuck on this death trap,” she said, her voice nothing more than a rough growl, “I am not eating anything.”
“At least keep drinking water.” His canteen was beside her and he picked it up and handed it to her.
She took several large gulps of the water before putting the stopper back.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
Aidan blinked. “For what?”
“For being afraid to stand up because I’m afraid I’ll fall into the water and never come up again. For being afraid to eat because I’m afraid I’ll vomit . . . everywhere. For being afraid to even look in the water because I’m afraid of what will look back.”
“It’ll be you,” he said simply.
“What?”
“If you look in the water, you’ll mostly see yourself looking back. Water’s reflective.”
“Yes, you’re right.” She gave a little laugh. “Silly me.”
“If it makes you feel better, the closer we get to the storm area Keita is so concerned about, the less we’ll see of the Fins.”
“Have there been Fins?” Brannie asked.
“None. But it’s probably best they don’t know there’s a boat of dragons making its way across their ocean.”
Brannie looked down. “Excellent point.”
Aidan moved closer to her, their shoulders touching, but Brannie immediately leaned away.
“I don’t need that, Aidan.”
“What if I do?”
She thought a moment. “Fair enough.”
Brannie leaned against him and Aidan put his arm over her shoulder, pulling her even closer.
“We’ll get through this,” he told her. “I’m sure it won’t be that bad anyway. You know how Keita can exaggerate.”
“You think?”
Aidan rested his temple against Brannie’s head, closed his eyes. “Of course. She’s overdramatic.”
“Really?” Brannie asked. “Is that overdramatic, too?”
Aidan opened his eyes and saw the wall of water heading right tow
ard them.
* * *
Kachka watched the wall of water bearing down on them.
“This cannot end well!” she yelled over the roar of the ocean.
It was what they had to get through, though. Not just the wall of water heading straight for them, but the violent storms behind that water. They’d need to deal with all that if they hoped to make it through the night.
The Northland men yelled orders to each other as they prepared themselves and their boat to fight what was before them.
Nina Chechneva held up a rope. “We can tie ourselves to the mast!” she yelled.
“Then we can go down with boat,” Kachka replied. “Good idea.”
“It is better than nothing, Kachka Shestakova!”
“If we die here,” Zoya Kolesova screamed into the wind, “we die with honor!”
“Shut up!” Kachka and Nina yelled at her.
Nina looked behind Kachka, then spun in a circle. “The dragons!”
“What of them?”
“They are gone!”
Kachka now did her own turn and Nina was right. “They left us!”
“I told you we cannot trust the dragons!”
Debating whether to slap Nina—some days she truly deserved a good slap—a gold tail dropped behind Zoya and wrapped around her waist. The tail yanked her up and out of the boat.
Angry, Nina yelled, “What about—”
A brown tail snatched up Nina, carrying her away. A few seconds later, a black tail wrapped around Kachka and she was yanked from the doomed boat.
The black tail lifted her up and over, placing her on Branwen’s back.
“Hold on!” Branwen screamed at her.
* * *
Kachka grabbed hold of Brannie’s chain mail and flattened herself against her back.
Brannie girded her loins and dove headfirst into the nightmare ahead.
She’d rather take on legions and legions of Zealots than fight nature itself. With soldiers and warriors, Brannie had a chance. She could watch their eyes and guess their next move. She could see how they ran toward her and find the weak spot that would take them down. Even a quick shoulder move would give her enough information to block a sword to the gut before cutting off a leg or ripping out a spleen.
But nature had no warnings. It had no weak spots. It had no move that told Brannie what she could do to stop it or wear it down. All she could do was dive and dodge and pray. She didn’t pray during battle but she prayed now. She had to.
Following behind Keita, Brannie and the others went up high until they were able to go over the wall of water, their claws skimming the top for what felt like a mile or so until the wall crashed down. Most likely taking out the Northlanders’ boat in the process.
But the wall of water was only part of their problem.
As the group flew, nature threw everything else it had at them. Rain came down on them in sheets of never-ending water. Thunder crashed around them, seemingly shaking the entire world. Lightning bolts came directly at them as if thrown with great aim.
The only thing that helped them? Their past battles with Lightning dragons. They’d all been trained to face Lightnings. Even Keita, who’d been forced to escape the Olgeirsson Horde a few decades back.
But again, Brannie could watch a Lightning and from the turn of a head, the slash of a tail, or even the raise of a brow, she could tell where their bolts might hit. The same didn’t apply when nature had its way. All Brannie could do now was wait until the last second and hope she moved fast enough.
* * *
It was like flying through a Mì-runach gauntlet, but instead of dodging the fists and tails of his brethren, Aidan was dodging lightning bolts and tornadoes of water.
Zoya held on to his chain mail shirt and laughed into the wind. The woman obviously didn’t fear death, but Aidan did. He had much more living to do; he didn’t want to die just because he couldn’t avoid a sudden cyclone that sent him spinning wildly up into the air and then farther out into the ocean.
By the time Aidan righted himself—Zoya miraculously still clinging to him—he’d lost sight of the others.
He pushed his way back to where he thought he’d come from, although he was only guessing. He’d spun like a top from those winds and had no idea where the battle-fuck he truly was.
Something slammed at him from the side and he saw brown scales pushing into him, attempting to lead him back.
Uther.
Aidan took his friend’s direction and forced his way through the rain and . . . and . . .
Good gods! Was that sleet? Why was he facing sleet?
Several lightning bolts flashed past him. Aidan felt like they were specifically aimed at him until he saw black scales tumbling down. Caswyn, another black dragon, was on his left, keeping as close an eye on Keita as he could.
So the black dragon freefalling?
“Hold tight, Zoya!” he yelled at his charge and dove after Branwen.
He zigged and zagged past more bolts crashing down around him, the thunder exploding over his head, nearly shaking him off course. But Aidan kept at it. He kept Brannie in his sights until he was near her.
She’d been hit by one of the lightning bolts, the scales on her back, under her right wing, smoking from the impact.
Aidan aimed down, slammed his wings against his body, pushing through the winds that were coming up—which seemed especially strange—and maneuvering himself until he was beside Brannie.
“Don’t let go!” he ordered Zoya before he reached out and grabbed Brannie’s forearms. But her body was still spinning with great force and now Aidan was spinning with her—and heading straight to the ground below.
* * *
Keita turned to one side, then the other, barely avoiding the bolts of lightning clearly aiming right for her.
She dove down and flipped to her right, missing the geyser of water that had risen up out of nowhere.
For the first time in Keita’s life, she worried that she’d never get out of something. How could she when she couldn’t use her greatest assets to protect herself? She couldn’t talk to lightning bolts or fuck tornadoes. Nature couldn’t be enticed, seduced, or destroyed. All Keita could do was dive and roll and avoid.
But when she glanced back, hoping to see her cousin flying right behind her—calling her all kinds of horrible things because Keita had gotten her into all this—she quickly figured out she was alone.
She faced forward again with every intention of turning completely around and going back for everyone, but bright light suddenly hit Keita in the face. So bright she had to close her eyes and turn her head. A powerful screeching filling the air—and then she was falling.
Keita was falling and she had no idea how to stop.
Didn’t matter, though. The ground took care of all that for her....
Chapter Twenty-Two
The armor and chain mail were made specifically for him by Sulien the Smithy.
And the queen herself helped him into that armor, not allowing any of his siblings or squires to assist. That was their way, any time he was going off to war. But this time felt different. This time, Rhiannon feared—truly feared—she’d never see him again.
So Rhiannon took her time, placing each piece onto his dragon body with care.
The two suns were rising and soon Bercelak the Great would be flying out with his war-loving siblings and cousins to face the Zealots in the Outerplains.
With his armor in place, Rhiannon cut the length off his black-and-gray hair until it reached his shoulders, then plaited several war braids, entwining her own white hair into a few of them for luck.
They didn’t speak during all of this. There was nothing to say.
When their longtime ritual was complete, they stood at the exit to their chamber, Rhiannon’s white claw clasped in Bercelak’s black one. They gazed into each other’s eyes for several long minutes until Rhiannon finally said, “Kill all of them. Leave nothing for even the crows to dine upon.” r />
Bercelak stepped close, his tail entwining with hers while their snouts brushed against each other.
Then he was gone. Out of their chamber and through the throne room. His siblings joined him, with Ghleanna on his right and Addolgar, his left. The rest trailing right behind.
He didn’t look back at her. She didn’t want him to.
Instead Rhiannon sat on her throne and the Mì-runach immediately surrounded her. They would not leave her side until Bercelak returned.
Not surprisingly, no others of her court approached her the entire day.
* * *
At first Annwyl thought the noise she heard was in her head. Just something else to torment her. But the more north she traveled, the louder the sound became.
After ten minutes of walking, she found it. A giant animal, not quite as big as Fearghus and his brothers in their dragon form but ten times bigger than her. It was on its side, crying out.
She started to walk away. The thing had black eyes; big horns on its head, elbows, and knees; enormous claws; and spikes running down its tail. The flesh of something once human still caught on several of the tips. It also had extremely large fangs that didn’t fit completely in its mouth. This was not something she wanted to get too close to if it suddenly decided to get up or attack her. It was a demon animal of some kind and she still intended to get out of this hell alive.
But it kept screaming and something inside her couldn’t walk away. She didn’t know what was wrong with her, but she simply couldn’t do it.
So Annwyl turned around and went back. She moved in close and reached her hand out to pet its belly. The fur was hard, a few individual hairs sticking into her hand like splinters. But she ignored that and kept petting.
“Shhh,” she said. “It’s okay.” She studied the claws, looking for something that could be causing the animal pain, but they looked clean. Nothing between the pads either. She then checked its belly, chest, and groin. Still nothing.
“Come on, big boy. You’re fine. Nothing to cry about.”
Annwyl heard footsteps behind her and she turned to see a group of armed demons.
“Move!” one of them ordered. “It’s ours. We feast tonight.”
“He’s not even fighting. Fuck off.”
“Move or we’ll take you down with it.”