But two dragons . . . ? Well, that was a bit more of a challenge for anyone.
As the pair stepped away from the tree line, the skies opened up once more and rain poured down on them. They glanced at each other and nodded.
Rain worked in their favor.
But as they began to move forward, lightning struck. That was more of a problem. A good bolt could light up the sky . . . and the land beneath, alerting the guards to their presence.
Brannie paused for maybe a half second before she took off running, keeping low. Perhaps they could outrun the lightning.
Aidan immediately followed after her.
Thunder exploded right over them and Brannie picked up speed. They slammed their backs against the fort wall just as a lightning strike snapped over their heads, lighting up the entire surrounding area.
Letting out a breath, they looked at each other again and, with a nod from Brannie, they split up. He went left, she went right.
The first guard he came to made the mistake of turning his head to muffle his cough. Aidan caught him from behind, wrapping his hand around the guard’s mouth and burying his dagger into the side of his neck. He dropped the body and moved to the next one.
Lightning hit at the same time Aidan arrived and the guard saw him. The man opened his mouth to warn his friends, but his words were lost in the thunder and rain. He tried again, but Aidan stopped him by slamming his dagger into his open mouth, pinning the human to the fort wall.
Aidan yanked out his blade and stepped over the body. His next few attacks went well and he met up with Brannie in under ten minutes.
And yet she still felt the need to complain, “Took you long enough, Mì-runach.”
Ignoring her comment, Aidan asked, “Do we storm the front gates, killing everyone in sight? Or sneak in silently, like my worthless brethren?”
Brannie actually thought on that a moment—he’d been kidding!—before she grudgingly replied, “Sneak.”
Then she sighed. As if such a suggestion was so beneath her.
Pushing her wet hair off her face, she motioned for him to follow her and then set off. They went halfway around the fort, finally stopping at a small door hidden behind a large bush.
Brannie pushed the door open and got on her knees. She leaned in, looking around before she signaled for him to, again, follow her.
With a deep breath, steeling himself, Aidan waited until Brannie’s adorable human ass disappeared inside. Then he went in after her.
* * *
The small door led them into a network of underground tunnels. A way in and out for Zealots who might need to escape.
Apparently all the Zealots were not ready to die for their precious one god.
When they got to a section of the tunnel that split in several ways, Brannie silently pointed in one direction for Aidan and she took the other. She knew he probably wanted to stick with her, but they were low on time and had a lot of ground to cover. Pretending to be her nursemaid would be a foolish move.
Brannie walked down the long hallway. Above her she could hear movement, some chanting. She assumed she was close to a center of worship.
The tunnel split off again and, as she briefly debated which way to go, she heard a shout of warning from above. Someone had found the bodies outside.
Another shout from behind her, though, had Brannie quickly moving to the left, her back flat against the stone wall. A few seconds later, Aidan ran by . . . and a squad of armed Zealots ran right after him.
She rolled her eyes. “Idiot.”
Brannie knew Aidan the Divine well enough to know—know!—that he’d allowed himself to be seen. Why? Probably to protect her. To distract the guards already searching the tunnels and fort for them.
Stepping out of the shadows, she started to follow Aidan but stopped short when she saw a door at the end of the hallway.
She gritted her teeth. Follow Aidan? Go to the door?
“Eh,” she said with a wave of her hand. “He’ll be fine.”
Brannie ran to the door and eased it open to find stone stairs. Closing the door behind her, she made her way down. As she neared the last step, she could hear chains . . . and sobbing.
A dungeon.
Just what she’d been looking for.
Brannie reached the last step and stopped, silently waiting for a guard to pass. Once he did, she moved up behind him and quickly cut his throat.
Footsteps came from behind and Brannie turned, throwing the blade. It slammed into the second guard’s head and he fell back. She retrieved the weapon and slid it into the sheath at her side.
Brannie checked for more guards, but didn’t see any, so she made her way down to a large open space. In the middle of the room were tables covered in chains, metal cuffs, and blood. Chains also hung from the ceilings. And on each wall Chramnesind’s sigil had been burned into the stone.
If the sigils were magickal, Brannie wouldn’t know until they destroyed her. But she didn’t deal with magicks. She left that to witches and other blessed folk. All warriors could do was hope for the best.
Brannie moved to the far wall and started down the long room. Not every cage had someone in it, but most did. So she studied each carefully in the hope of finding Ren.
She’d just reached the end of the first wall of cages when she heard, “Branwen the Awful?”
It was a female voice, so not Ren. But Brannie spun around, wondering who called to her.
Blinking, she rushed across the floor to the cages on the other side.
“Kachka?” She stopped in front of the cage and gawked at the three Riders inside. “What are you doing here?”
Kachka Shestakova of the Black Bear Riders of the Midnight Mountains of Despair in the Far Reaches of the Steppes of the Outerplains—and yes, that was her entire name—had come to the “decadent and corrupt” Southlands with her sister Elina Shestakova. They were true Daughters of the Steppes. Hearty, powerful women who thought men were beneath them, only good for sex and garbage removal. They were warriors and horsewomen known for breeding and raising small but remarkable horses that were great in battle and during long, cross-country rides.
The Daughters of the Steppes were nomads, moving their many tribes around the steppes and, when necessary, raiding Northland and Outerplains towns in search of boys to use for husbands. A term that Annwyl said should be changed to “slaves.”
Although the leader of the Daughters of the Steppes, the one they called the Anne Atli, had an alliance with Annwyl, her involvement in the war—and thereby the involvement of her people—had been limited to providing food, water, and horses when necessary. Otherwise, the Daughters of the Steppes had not raised a sword against any of the Zealots as long as they stayed away from their territories.
So, in the end, less of an alliance and more of a truce. The Riders didn’t strike the Zealots but they also didn’t strike Annwyl’s troops.
So why were these Daughters of the Steppes fighting for Annwyl in a small squad referred to as “The Scourge of gods”? Because these were the Riders no longer wanted by the tribes for varying reasons. Kachka and Elina had lost their positions because of their mother, a price Elina wore on her face every day with an eye socket that no longer held an eye. Kachka had defended Elina and that had put her outside the tribes as well. Now, both women had found dragons to keep them company. Brannie’s brother Celyn had fallen in love with Elina, and Kachka had managed to snag the very handsome Rebel King of the Quintilian Provinces, Gaius Lucius Domitus.
Even Brannie thought that was a coup. Gaius was an exceptionally gorgeous Iron dragon and, coincidentally, also missing an eye.
But even more impressive to Brannie was that Kachka hadn’t suddenly given up her life as a warrior once she’d made a king her mate. She hadn’t taken her place on a Quintilian throne to give orders behind the safety of a legion of guards. She had left that to Gaius’s twin sister, Agrippina, and continued to do what she’d done before. She took her orders from Annwyl or, if neces
sary, Dagmar. And she still took her squad of Rider Rejects—Gwenvael’s nickname for them—around the country, attacking Zealots where and when she could under the cover of darkness, leaving nothing but blood, death, and Zealot remains behind.
But there should be at least seven of the Rider Rejects, including a male, and she’d never thought that Riders would allow themselves to be taken alive.
“What are we doing here?” Kachka repeated, her elbow resting against the steel bars. She looked over her shoulder. “Yes, Zoya Kolesova, tell Celyn’s big-shouldered sister how we got here.”
“Still?” the giant Zoya Kolesova asked from the corner of the cage. “Still you blame me for this?”
“Yes!” Nina Chechneva, the actual witch of the group, shouted. “This is your fault, Zoya Kolesova! It will be your fault until the day you die. And on that day, I will wear red, dance on your still burning corpse, and sing the song of happiness!”
“Always so dramatic, unclean one,” Zoya lashed back.
“Shut up!”
Kachka looked at Brannie and drily asked, “Does that answer your question, Celyn’s sister?”
“Not really.”
* * *
Uther knew as soon as the rain started that Keita would begin to complain. So he found a very large tree with lots of protective leaves and got her situated before going off to find something to feed her. A hungry She-dragon could be annoying and dangerous. So he grabbed Caswyn and they went in search of something to feed on. Because it was raining, it was harder than usual to track something down, but they eventually caught a deer, killed it, and dragged it back to the tree where they’d left Keita.
Dropping the deer, Uther turned in a circle. “Where . . . where is she?
“If something happened to her . . .” He threw up his arms. “First Puddles and then Keita? Brannie will tear our bloody heads off!”
Uther looked at the ground, trying to find any tracks or signs of where Keita might have gone.
The heavy rain, however, had turned the ground into mud and the flashes of lightning weren’t helping. Sniffing the air was useless, especially since every time he raised his face, his nose filled with water.
Frustrated, they both started walking, still searching the ground, hoping to find something—anything—that would tell them where Keita had gone. They found a few tracks under the bigger trees, where the leaves offered some protection.
“Oh, no,” Caswyn said, barely audible above the harsh rain.
“What?” Uther demanded. “What is it?” Uther ran to his side, desperately pushing his wet hair off his face.
“I think she went there.”
Uther’s gaze followed where Caswyn was pointing. He’d been focused on the ground so hard, he hadn’t realized where they were heading.
He gawked at the fort and shook his head. “Brannie is definitely going to kill us.”
* * *
“They must have been tracking us for weeks, these pathetic fools.” Kachka let out a breath. “They waited until we separated. I sent the Khoruzhaya siblings, Marina Aleksandrovna and my cousin Tatyana Shestakova back to Garbhán Isle to protect the weak Northwoman until the Dragon Queen’s concubine—”
“I’m gonna warn you now that Uncle Bercelak is not going to like that nickname,” Brannie called over her shoulder. She was desperately searching for something that would get the cage open. There was no lock for Brannie to simply rip apart. Instead, the cage was welded shut on all sides. She could use her flame but that could put the Riders in danger of burning to death if the metal didn’t melt quickly enough.
“—and Annwyl’s armies destroy the Zealots.”
“Why did you three stay behind?” Brannie asked.
“To find Ren. But we were too late.”
Brannie froze and faced Kachka. “What?”
The Rider shrugged. “When they sealed us in here, he was in the cage right next to ours. We talked a bit but he was taken away by three guards. We heard screams . . . then nothing. Later they brought out his head.”
Brannie felt sick, but she forced herself past it. “They didn’t purify him?”
“Not that we saw.”
“Where is the head now?”
Kachka gestured to the cage. “Perhaps you do not see we are still behind bars.”
“Oh. Right. Right.” Shaking her head, she went back to the torture tables and looked at the weaponry hanging overhead. There had to be some way to get the damn cage open.
“How long ago was this?”
“Two weeks.”
Brannie stopped again. “You haven’t been out of that cage in two weeks?”
“Do you want to see bucket?”
“No, thank you.”
“They hope to starve us.”
“They haven’t fed you in all that time?”
“No food. No water.”
“Shouldn’t you be . . . weaker?”
“We are Daughters of Steppes. Some seasons on the plains are very good. Very plentiful. Others? We are lucky if we do not eat the weakest of our tribe.”
“Sometimes we do.” When Kachka, Nina, and Brannie all stared at Zoya, the giant Rider asked, “What? Only the Mountain Movers of the Lands of Pain in the Far Reaches of the Steppes of the Outerplains have ever eaten their weakest members?”
Nina glared directly at Brannie. “Get me the fuck out of here. I will spend not one more minute with this giant open sore!”
“I have saved your life, Nina Chechneva, the Unclaimed!”
“And I have saved yours, Zoya Kolesova! We owe each other nothing except disdain and hatred!”
Calmly Kachka motioned Brannie over with a wave of her hand. When Brannie stood in front of her, Kachka grabbed her throat and yanked her even closer.
“I will say this once to you, Celyn’s sister—”
“I have a name,” Brannie choked out.
“—get me out of here or burn everything down around me. Because I cannot listen to another moment of this ridiculous horse shit!”
* * *
Aidan had led the Zealots on a merry chase through the tunnels and eventually out of them but, sadly, he ended up trapped inside their main hall, Zealots surrounding him.
He didn’t know if he’d given Brannie enough time to find Ren but there was nothing he could do about that now. He had to get the two of them out of there.
Aidan was reaching for the sword at his side when he heard the screams of other Zealots moments before Uther and Caswyn came charging into the main hall, covered in blood, and in a complete panic.
“What are you doing?” he asked, trying not to laugh.
But it was hard. The Zealots were screaming and running in such a panic that he couldn’t help himself.
His laughter died, though, when Caswyn exploded with, “Keita’s gone!”
“Gone? Gone where?”
“We have no idea,” Uther explained while snapping a Zealot’s neck. “We went to get her something to eat and when we came back—”
“You left her?”
“Who knew she’d wander off?”
Aidan yanked his sword out of a Zealot’s gut. “Keita doesn’t wander anywhere. Don’t let her bare feet fool you. That dragoness always has a plan.”
He looked around, pointed at a door with his blood-covered sword. “There. The dungeon. Let’s get Brannie and get out of here.”
“What about Keita?”
“She’ll find us when she’s done.”
Caswyn yanked the spine out of a Zealot’s back before asking, wide-eyed, “When she’s done doing what?”
“Let’s not ask. Let’s just get Brannie.”
* * *
It didn’t matter that Keita couldn’t find Ren’s body. She knew her friend was gone. Dead. And that these people had killed him.
Standing among all those “purified” bodies, Keita closed her fist and raised her face to the sky. Rain poured down and mingled with her tears.
Tears for her friend.
She
had more to do, but not before she got revenge for Ren, before she made these Zealots suffer.
And they would suffer....
* * *
“Move to the back,” Brannie ordered the Riders. “As far back as you can.”
Once the three women had gotten in place, Brannie went to the side of the cage and studied a spot she hoped would be easily melted by fire.
She also hoped that she wouldn’t burn any of the Riders when she unleashed her flame. Some dragons had amazing control of their flame. It was said the queen could use her flame like a whip. But that was the queen. When Brannie unleashed her flame, she could easily wipe out a small forest. Once she took out half a town. She’d felt really bad about that, too.
She’d warned the Riders of the risk, though, and they didn’t seem to care. Of course, they had a thing about dying . . . they weren’t afraid to. But she’d never hear the end of it from Celyn if she ended up accidentally killing Elina’s sister.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Just go already!” Kachka bellowed.
“All right. All right.”
Brannie let out a breath, focused on a spot, and opened her mouth—
“Brannie!”
Growling, she turned to see Aidan and the other two barreling into the dungeon. Aidan quickly came forward, while Caswyn and Uther slammed the double doors shut.
“We have a problem,” Aidan told her as soon as he was close enough.
“What did they do now?”
“It’s not their fault.”
“Don’t make excuses for them. Just tell me what’s going on.”
He swallowed. “Keita disappeared.”
Brannie felt a muscle in her neck twitch. “She was captured?”
“No.”
She took in a breath. “We need to get them out.” Brannie pointed at the bars. “I can try and melt them but—”
“Uther! Caswyn! Cage!”
The two lumbering oxen made their way over to the cage and Brannie tossed keys to Aidan. “Get as many out as you can.”
As soon as Aidan began the process, Brannie heard a horrible wrenching noise and turned in time to see Uther and Caswyn ripping apart the cage with only the help of their human hands.