How to Drive a Dragon Crazy

“Other than you being an ungrateful son? No.”

“Ungrateful? I’ve destroyed dragon after dragon in her name.”

“You enjoyed it.”

He shrugged. “That’s true.”

“It’s been ten years. Your mum should see you.”

“I see you’re still drawn to my mother.”

“I am loyal to my queen. Do you know why?”

“Please not this story again,” the Blue begged.

“Because when that bastard father of yours wanted to have me executed for insubordination—”

“That was probably because you’d come after him with an axe when he gave you an order.”

“—your mum said no. She saw me worth. For that I’m loyal to her until I breathe me last. So take your ungrateful blue ass and go home.”

The Blue studied Angor. “So you’re kicking me out then?”

“Once Mì-runach, always Mì-runach, boy. You should know that by now. But you can’t avoid your kin forever.”

“I haven’t been avoiding anything.” He gave a small smile, showing one side of his fangs. “Not anymore.”

“There’s truth to that. So go home. See your mum. Make her happy. For me.” Angor turned from the younger dragon, moving toward some Ice Land oxen he’d seen earlier. Watching his warriors kill always made him hungry.

“And my squad when we’re done in the Northlands?” the boy called out. “Should I send them on ahead to meet you?”

“Don’t you dare. Take those mean bastards with you. No other squad will have them anyway.” He flicked his claw in the air. “Go home, Éibhear the Contemptible. See your mum. See your kin. Spend some time with those who raised you. Think of it like a holiday. Then remember why you left in the first place, and return to the Mì-runach. We’ll be camped near the Western Mountains. Waiting to do what we do best.”

“Kill?” the blue dragon asked Angor.

“Some would say,” Angor muttered on a chuckle. “Some would say.”

Chapter 2

Éibhear the Contemptible—once called Éibhear the Blue—walked up to his squad. The Mì-runach were broken up into four-to-six-member squads. Angor was commander of them all, but it wasn’t a job any of them envied.

For one to become Mì-runach he not only had to be a mighty fighter, he also had to be a vicious, heartless bastard who couldn’t take basic orders. Although they’d been around for centuries in different forms, usually brought together during a specific war or battle, the Mì-runach really had come into their own when Éibhear’s grandfather, Ailean—the shining example of a dragon who couldn’t take orders but made himself worth the trouble during a battle—joined. Of course, they didn’t have a name then; instead, they were just known as those “unreliable, heartless bastards” who were too good as warriors to dismiss completely but too much of a bother to force some poor commander to have to tolerate while trying to manage scores of other soldier dragons during a heated battle.

In the Dragon Queen’s army, not taking orders made a Dragonwarrior a dangerous liability. But among the Mì-runach, where one’s strengths were used to benefit, it made that soldier a useful servant of the queen. For the Mì-runach handled that which many would not. It took some time for Éibhear to figure out exactly what that made them, but he finally did.... They were a death squad.

Like they’d just done with the Spikes, the Mì-runach would sneak in during the cover of night and slaughter soldiers in their caves. Or they’d burrow underground and strike in the middle of a battle, killing the leaders and then decimating the rest of the army, if necessary. Many dragon soldiers in Her Majesty’s Army considered this type of fighting dishonorable. But to the Mì-runach, who needed honor when there was ale? And pubs? And females to entertain? Who needed rank and orders and rules and a bunch of daily tasks when they could sleep all day and drink all night until called to do what they did best?

It wasn’t rank and power that kept the Mì-runach returning to battle day after day, night after night. The gods knew, it would never be rank. It was the love of blood and battle and destruction. It was knowing that they were the ones their Queen’s enemies feared because they had reason to fear.

“Well?” asked Aidan the Divine, a Gold whose royal family hailed from the Western Mountains.

“We’re heading out for one final task in the Northlands.”

“Oh?”

“Aye. Kill Spike leader Jorgesson’s son, since the boy seems to think he can take his father’s place.”

“Which he probably thought he had to do because we killed Jorgesson.”

“True. Once we’re done with the boy, we’re heading to Dark Plains. Angor wants me to go home for a bit.”

Aidan blinked, dropping the dragon whose neck he’d just crushed. “Home? You?”

“Why do you say it like that? You’ve been away from your kin longer than I have.”

“I loathe my kin as they loathe me.” Aidan slammed his fist into the Spike on the ground although it seemed unnecessary. “You seem to like yours, but I’m not sure you returning home will make that better or worse.”

“I do like them.” Éibhear thought on that a moment. “Well, the females. I like the females . . . mostly.”