Last Dragon Standing

They headed back to the castle and perhaps some ointments for what Vigholf was sure would be many aches and pains.

Dagmar placed the strip of leather, looking like a piece torn off a sword belt, onto the long table covered with maps and correspondence from the different legion commanders.

“It could have been there for years,” Fearghus said, his gaze straying to his mate. Annwyl stood by the window, her back to them, arms folded over her chest, staring out.

“It appears relatively new,” Dagmar said. Then, with a sigh, she walked over to a small trunk she kept in the room. She kept important correspondence or important but not-often-used maps and items in there. She was the only one with a key; none of the dragons bothered to ask for one since they could tear the trunk open without it. She pulled out the keys she kept around her girdle and unlocked it, removing several items from inside.

She placed those on the desk alongside the newest piece. Two were strips of leather, emblems burnt into them, another was part of a necklace, and another was a gold coin. All received from Addolgar in the last few months.

Fearghus and Morfyd moved in closer, taking a look. Fearghus’s cold black gaze lifted to Dagmar’s. “You’re just telling us of this now?”

“There was no reason to alert anyone until I was sure. I have my people out getting as much information as they can, and Ghleanna and Addolgar are on top of the matter.”

“And?”

Dagmar dropped into a chair on the other side of the desk. “There’s still nothing definite. No witnesses. No sight of the Sovereigns before or after the attacks. Nothing.”

“But this?” Morfyd asked, gesturing to the bits Dagmar had collected.

“Evidence it could be, but it’s not exactly damning.”

“We can send more legions into the west to look for them. To find out if it is the Sovereigns, and act accordingly.” Fearghus, his head down, said, “It’s not the Sovereigns we need to find.”

“Why not?”

“It’s been said,” Dagmar explained, “that the human Sovereign forces are no more than puppets for their dragon masters.”

“The Irons,” Fearghus filled in.

Morfyd shook her head. “Do you really think Thracius would dare move on us?”

“Outright?” Fearghus shrugged. “Doubtful. But to have Thracius’s human attack dog, Counsel Laudaricus and the Sovereign legions, wear away at our troops? Keep us busy, splintering our legions, while we look away from what’s going on—perhaps right in front of us? That I can see, sister.”

“I don’t understand.”

He pointed at the map he had on the table. “Fearing an eventual attack by the Sovereigns after discovering all these conveniently placed bits of evidence, we move all our human troops here”—he pointed at the Western Mountains—“and send our dragon units over the mountains and into the valley territories between the Western and Aricia Mountains.”

“All right.”

Dagmar leaned forward and pointed at the northern portion of the map. “While the iron dragons sweep through the Northlands and Outerplains and wipe this land clean before any of the troops can make it back.” Morfyd stared down at the map until she suddenly announced,

“Mother knows.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Why else would she bring Ragnar here? After two years, his war almost over? She’s up to something.”

Dagmar placed her elbows on the table and cupped her chin with her hands. “Another war would put her in a better position with the Elders, but that doesn’t mean she’s actively working to make a war with the Sovereigns happen.”

Morfyd began to pace. “The Sovereigns are not like the Northlanders, you know. Splintered by terrain and old grudges. The entire Sovereign Empire, dragon and human, all bow before that bastard Thracius. He rules with an iron claw, and if Mother lets this play out until the Elders have no choice but to declare war…it might be too late.”

“Then we don’t wait for that,” Fearghus said. “Human and dragon legions attack first. Before the Sovereigns’ or Mother’s plans has a chance to play out.”

“No.”

Fearghus’s eyes briefly closed at his mate’s softly spoken, but adamant, proclamation.

“Annwyl—”

“No, Fearghus. That’s what they want. For us to leave the children.”

“It’s not like we’d be leaving them alone in a field to fend for themselves.”

She faced them all, and Dagmar couldn’t help but wince when she saw the human queen’s expression. It was…fixed.

“I’ll not leave them. I can’t make it any plainer.” They watched her walk out, none of them jumping when the door slammed behind her. The queen was a notorious door-slammer.

“I’ll talk to her,” Fearghus said.

“You’ve been talking to her, brother. We all have. She won’t hear us.”

“She dreams,” Dagmar said, telling them what had been said among the servants. “She dreams someone is coming for the babes.”

“And?” Fearghus pushed. “Is she right?”

Dagmar and Morfyd exchanged glances before Dagmar admitted,

“Yes. We think she may be.”

“There will always be someone coming after the babes,” Fearghus said, taking up the spot his mate had left. He even crossed his arms over his chest and stared out the window. “Everyone wants them dead.”