G. Aiken: A Tale Of Two Dragons

“You lot go on,” Braith ordered, and Addolgar opened his eyes just a bit so he had a good idea of where everyone was standing . . . and what his odds were. “I’ll finish him,” she said, holding up an eating dagger sharp enough to cut his throat.

The soldiers nodded and began to move away . . . except one. That one, a big Red, held up his claw, halting the others. His blue eyes narrowed on Braith and, after a moment, he said, “That’s all right, Lady Braith. Your father’s orders were clear. We kill the Cadwaladr and then we go. This isn’t something you need to worry about.”

With a jerk of his head toward Addolgar, the soldiers turned back to him, all of them pulling out their swords. Behind them, Braith let out a sigh, her head momentarily dropping. Perhaps her father’s control over her was greater than Addolgar had thought. It seemed valid. He was clearly a dragon to fear.

But then she raised bright green eyes, her gaze locking on the soldiers. Fascinated, Addolgar couldn’t even focus his attention on his imminent death. Instead, he continued to watch Braith.

Watched as she grabbed two of the guards by their hair with her talons, using one forearm for each. She yanked them back, flipped both of them up at the same time, and then brought them down hard, their necks snapping in the process. Before dying, the two males cried out, startled at the attack, and the remaining soldiers spun around to face her.

The Red snarled, smoke coming from his nostrils. “Your father warned us we might have to kill you. Guess he was right.”

The Red raised his sword and charged, and Braith punched. She punched him in the snout. A punch so hard that Addolgar heard bone shatter, saw blood splatter the others. The Red stumbled back, landed on his ass. His snout was pushed back so far, he couldn’t speak and he had to breathe through his open mouth.

The others charged, and Braith caught the forearm of one, yanked him forward, and broke it over her other forearm. While still holding him, she brought up her now-free fist and hit the soldier behind her in the face, spun, and punched him in the gut. She grabbed the one whose arm she’d broken and yanked his head to the side, breaking his neck.

By the time Braith faced the last standing soldier, the dragon’s sword was arcing down toward her. Braith quickly reached up and caught the dragon’s forearms in her claws, held them. The pair struggled against each other. The soldier was strong, but to Addolgar and the soldier’s surprise, Braith was much stronger.

She yanked the soldier’s forearms apart so his sword dropped to the ground. Then she dragged the guard closer, rammed her head against his. Once. Twice. Until he was dazed, nearly out cold. That’s when she went behind him and grabbed his head. Addolgar thought she’d snap his neck like the others, but instead she forced her claws between his jaws and pried them open—and she kept prying until she’d broken the soldier’s jaws away from his head.

She dropped the body, picked up her dagger, and ran toward Addolgar. As she did, she passed the Red and she didn’t even stop as she charged by the still-breathing-but-clearly-dying dragon, cutting his throat as she moved and letting him bleed out while she came to Addolgar’s side.

Addolgar closed his eyes again, continued to feign unconsciousness. He felt her stroke his hair. “Addolgar? Addolgar?” She pressed two claws against his throat, felt for signs of life. When she found them, she let out a sigh.

“Thank the gods,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry, Addolgar. I had no idea he would ever . . .” She swallowed. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you help and then I’ll go straight to the Queen. I’ll tell her everything. My father will pay for this betrayal.”

Yes. Her father would pay. And so would Braith. As one of Elder Emyr’s offspring, she would suffer the fate of her kin for no other reason than that she shared their bloodline. Addiena would want revenge now . Not when they eventually tracked Emyr down. And Addolgar realized he couldn’t let that happen. It wasn’t fair. Addolgar would hate to be held responsible for some of the stupid centaur shit his kin did on a daily basis. So why should Braith suffer for her father’s treachery?

Yet he now understood Braith’s sense of honor. Not that people talked about it as they talked about Bercelak’s triumphs in battle or Ghleanna’s fearsome reputation among enemies. No. He hadn’t heard about it, he just saw it. In what she’d just done. Using her bare claws, she’d fought for his life and saved it. So Addolgar knew her honor existed. Knew it was powerful, which meant she wouldn’t listen to reason. She wouldn’t believe that Queen Addiena would hold against Braith what had clearly been plotted and executed by her father.

Addolgar wouldn’t let that happen.

So when Braith got to her claws and turned away from him to, he assumed, figure out her next step, Addolgar did the only thing he could think of. He forced himself to his claws, ignored how dizzy he felt, and grabbed the back of Braith’s head, slamming her right into the tree he’d passed out beside.

She went down hard, and was definitely out cold.

Panting, exhausted just from that little burst of energy, Addolgar stumbled and landed on his ass. He let out a sigh, glad to be sitting since standing wasn’t working well for him at the moment. He patted Braith on her now-bleeding head.

“Don’t worry, Braith of the Darkness. I won’t let you get yourself into trouble. No. I’m going to save you from yourself just as you saved me from those bloody treacherous bastards. That’s what friends do for each other. And since you saved my life . . . we’re friends, you and me.” He grinned despite the pain in his head and the need to vomit whatever he’d eaten earlier in the day. “Friends! Because look at the great way I take care of you!”

Addolgar smiled and waved at his sister and one of his older brothers, Rhys the Hammer. The pair landed and stared at Addolgar, their wings retracting against their bodies, their heads tilting to the side in curiosity.

Ghleanna went back on her haunches and placed her claws on her hips. “What the bloody hells happened?”

“I’ve been poisoned.”

“By Braith of the Darkness?”

“No. She saved me life.”

“So the soldiers killed her?”

“She’s alive.”

Ghleanna looked around at the soldiers’ bodies. “So they beat her before you killed them?”

“Oh, I didn’t kill them.”

“Then who did?”

“Braith.”

Ghleanna frowned. “Braith . . . who?”

“Braith of the Darkness.” He pointed at the prone She-dragon. “That Braith.”

Ghleanna looked over the dead soldiers again. “Braith of the Darkness killed all these soldiers? With poison and then you beat them up after they died?”

Addolgar, known for his patience, was running out of it. “Braith didn’t poison anyone. I was poisoned and these soldiers were going to finish me off. Braith killed them all, with her bare claws, and saved me. Which I found quite impressive.”

“But the soldiers beat her up first?”

“No one beat her.”

Ghleanna looked at Rhys, but their older brother could only shrug.

“Okay,” Ghleanna said. “Then what did happen to Braith?”

“Oh! I rammed her head into the tree to stop her from leaving.”

Rhys the Hammer, third born to Ailean the Wicked and nearly a hundred years older than Addolgar, shook his head and reminded him, “That is not how you keep a female. Even one that impresses you, Addolgar. Because when she wakes up . . . she’s going to hurt you.”

“I did it for her own good.”