Last Dragon Standing

In some ways the dynamics between dragon and human Sovereigns reminded him of the relationship between his kind and the humans of the East, except for one major difference. There was no fear among the Eastland humans. Instead they celebrated the existence of the dragons because they wanted to, not because they were afraid not to.

With the area clear, Ren crossed from one side of the cavern to the other, then slid through solid rock to go from one side of the mountain wall to the other. One of many skills bestowed upon his kind that he enjoyed taking full advantage of, and one of the reasons Rhiannon had sent him on this mission.

As soon as he made it through, Ren stopped and gazed out over the land in front of him. The land currently filled, it seemed, from one end to the other with troops. Legions and legions of troops. A good number of them Irons, thousands and thousands of them human. They trained under the hot suns, readying for battle.

Readying for war.

Ren fought the urge to panic and worked hard to focus on what he was doing here. Gathering information and bringing it back to the Southland queens. A task he’d do to the best of his ability.

Turning away from the overwhelming sight before him, Ren eased his body through the mountain and back into the cavern.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Keita crouched by her baby brother, watching while Morfyd cleaned the blood off his hand. It seemed he’d broken his knuckles on Celyn’s face and Morfyd wanted to make sure to heal them correctly and ensure that they didn’t get infected.

“I need to make a poultice,” Morfyd said, moving over to some plants nearby to search out ingredients.

Keita gently lifted her brother’s hand and held it between her own.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Aye, sister,” he said, sounding worn after his explosion of anger.

“Ease yourself.”

“Oh. I will.” Then she slammed her hands against his broken knuckles, enjoying the scream of pain her brother unleashed.

“What the hells are you doing?” Morfyd demanded.

“You!” Keita said, pointing at Éibhear. “How dare you do what you did to Izzy! In front of her parents, no less!”

“I was trying to protect her! ”

“No, you weren’t, you lying sack of shit!”

“Keita!”

Now she spun on her sister. “And you!”

“What did I do?”

“Babying him! As if he deserves it!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry I’m not acting the way Keita the Viper thinks I should. I’m sorry I’m not performing to your specifications!” Keita shoved her sister, and Morfyd shoved her back. They nearly had each other’s hair when Éibhear got between them. “Stop it! What’s wrong with you?”

Pulling away from the pair, Keita stalked off. She was too angry even to think straight.

She felt for Izzy, and that was the truth of the matter. Why? Because she’d been there before. Some male calling her out in front of everyone because he couldn’t have her for one reason or another. Well, mostly one reason. That Keita didn’t want him. And although not the same exact situation, she still knew how her niece felt. Mortified was how she felt. And who could blame her?

Keita had thought she’d raised Éibhear better than that. Obviously she was wrong! For once.

And what was even stranger to her? That the only thing she wanted to do at the moment to make herself feel better was not go shopping, destroy a town, or steal something from her mother’s treasure. She wanted to do none of that. Instead, all she wanted to do was see Ragnar the Cunning. See him.

Talk to him. Let him make her feel better.

A desire, she had to admit, she found a tad appalling!

Ragnar and Vigholf took the young dragon out to the east fields. They placed him down in the center and walked away. Once a good distance back, they pulled off their clothes and shifted.

“All right, lad,” Ragnar called out. “Shift, if you can.” It took a bit, but flames burst and the young dragon was back in his natural form.

Ragnar returned to his side, checked the broken bones in his face, his broken arm, his broken ribs. Honestly, it was a good thing Izzy came along when she had.

Ragnar had hoped he’d be able to heal the young dragon while he’d still been in his human form, so the lad could stay in a soft bed with all those females coming in and out of the room to check on him and soothe him like their favorite wounded pet. But Ragnar simply didn’t have the level of understanding of human bones that he did for his own. He waited as long as he could for Morfyd to return, knowing her skill in healing far outstripped his own, but by mid-afternoon, he decided he could wait no longer.

“What do you need from me?” Vigholf asked Ragnar.

“Something to eat. A cow should do.”

“All right. I’ll be back.”

Ragnar leaned in. “Can you hear me, Celyn?”

The Fire Breather nodded.

“This shouldn’t take too long, but it’ll hurt. A lot. Understand?”

“Do it,” he whispered.

“I can do something that will hurt less, but you’d take longer to heal.

You’d be bedridden for a few days, though.”

Celyn forced his eyes open, gazed at Ragnar. “Do it.” Ragnar went down on his knees and raised his front claws over Celyn.

He closed his eyes and let the power stored in the ground beneath him rise up through his body. When he had what he needed, he unleashed that power through his claws and into the Fire Breather’s body.