The Dragon Who Loved Me
“Hand her over,” the commander said, pointing at the royal Vigholf had over his shoulder. “Hand her over or we’l kil —” The commander’s eyes suddenly widened, his mouth opened, and a blade pushed through his chest from behind. When he fel forward dead, Rhona wouldn’t say she was surprised to see Annwyl standing behind him, but she was relieved. The soldiers quickly snapped out of their shock at the loss of their commander and they went on the attack. Annwyl dove in sword first, as was her way, Izzy and Brannie fighting by her side.
“Take the royal,” Annwyl ordered Vigholf. “Take her and go. We’l be right behind you!” Rhona motioned to Vigholf. The strength that the Iron royal had a few minutes before was quickly waning, and if she died, Rhona would prefer it was in her brother’s arms rather than theirs. “Go, Vigholf. Take her.”
“And you?” he asked, gazing down at her. Doing something she didn’t think he ever would—trusting her to protect herself.
Rhona smiled. “Don’t worry. I’l be right behind you.”
Vigholf stroked her cheek with his hand. “You better be,” he warned. Then he swung his hammer and battered his way through the soldiers surrounding them.
Chapter 32
It was the abrupt silence that worried him. For days it hadn’t been quiet. Not with boulders constantly slamming into the cave wal s of their stronghold.
But now?
Now there was nothing, and Meinhard the Savage didn’t like that at al .
By the time Meinhard made it to the cave entrance that faced the Polycarp Mountains, Ragnar was already there, staring out.
“Get everyone ready,” his cousin ordered.
“Already done.”
“The Fire Breathers?”
“Ready.”
Meinhard waited for his cousin to give the next order, but Ragnar didn’t move.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. Something’s not right. It’s too quiet. It’s too—”
The entire Val ey rumbled, cutting off Ragnar’s words.
“Ragnar?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I—” Ragnar braced his claw against the wal , the first explosion rocking everything around them. Then the second explosion came and the third. The pair watched as the Polycarp Mountains began to fal , one after the other, after the other. Until there was nothing but dust, dirt, and level ground. Now there was nothing separating them from the Irons. It would be a straight, head-on battle. Irons against Northlanders and Fire Breathers.
“Get al our troops up here, now.”
Meinhard nodded, turned to go. But one of the Fire Breathers ran toward him.
“Meinhard! Coming from behind. Sovereigns.”
“They’re closing in around us,” Ragnar murmured. “Any sign of Annwyl’s army?”
“Scouts just got back. They’re coming in from the Eastern Pass, moving fast, but they don’t know about al this.”
“They’l find out soon enough.” He looked at Meinhard. “We’l let Annwyl’s army deal with the humans. And I want everyone who’s in that bloody tunnel out. Now.”
Meinhard nodded. “Done. And Annwyl’s troops?”
“We hope they get here before it’s too late. Now go, cousin,” Ragnar ordered as they both heard the sound of advancing Irons. “Because we’ve just run out of time.”
Brastias rode along beside his troops, using the Eastern Pass as Morfyd had suggested. They’d made good time this way, but stil , the men were restless. Not simply because they wanted this fight over with, but because they hadn’t seen Annwyl. The fear and gossip that the queen had deserted her troops was spreading through the ranks. Although how any of them could believe that she’d desert them out of fear or boredom or some monarch pique, did nothing but make Brastias very angry. So angry that he’d had anyone spreading those rumors flogged for insubordination.
True, Annwyl had left them, but not because she’d run away. No. Not his Annwyl. She’d done something even more stupid. She’d gone right into the enemy’s den. But what she was facing there, he had no idea.
Brastias’s horse, a veteran of many battles like his rider, suddenly reared up, only Brastias’s skil keeping him seated. Then almost al of the horses reared or backed up, col iding into the horses behind them, the ground beneath them shaking and shuddering.
“Earthquake?” Danelin, Brastias’s second in command, asked.
“No. I don’t think so. It’s something else.” The rumbling continued on, the land beneath them rol ing. Until, final y, it stopped. “It’s begun,” he said.
“Are you sure?”
“Aye. I’m sure.”
Brastias turned to two of his messengers. When they were on the march, it was these mounted soldiers who spread commands when time was short.
“We cut off on that path up ahead, then we cut the Sovereign snake in half. Now go!”
“You sure the Sovereigns are already in the Western Pass?”
“The Irons wouldn’t move until they were. They’re there, and we’re going to kil them al .”
“And Annwyl?”
“I’ve never doubted her before, Danelin,” he said, spurring his horse to a gal op. “I won’t start now.” As Vigholf made his way to the gate, he wasn’t surprised to see the Rebel King walking through. He was in human form, the hood of his cape covering his face, but it was him.