What a Dragon Should Know

Frustrated, confused, and quite terrified, Dagmar threw up her hands and said, “Hear me, Minotaurs!” And all those bovine faces looked at her. “The dragon gods will not stand for this! And it will not be you they come after. It will be your people. Your females. Your calves. They will wipe your people from the earth for this betrayal!”

That made the males pause. They were on a suicide mission, but that didn’t mean their families were.

Eir raised her thumb up and smiled. “Nice!”

“Ignore her,” the priestess said while carefully arranging the now screaming twins to her liking on a quickly made altar. “Use her as you will—no one will care.”

“But”—one said carefully through his teeth—“we think this one’s crazy.”

The priestess gaped at him. “That’s never stopped you before.”

While the Minotaurs debated the rape and murder of the insane, Dagmar watched Eir. She’d promised to help the twins and yet she wasn’t walking toward them, but away, eventually stopping at Annwyl’s prone body. She knelt down beside the dead queen and turned the body over. She placed her hand on Annwyl’s head and dragged it down the length of her body, down her face, across her chest and stomach, down her legs to her feet. Annwyl herself didn’t move, her eyes still staring unseeing at the ceiling, but her corpse twitched as bones locked back into place.

With a hand under Annwyl’s neck, her head gently tilted back, the goddess, like Rhydderch Hael had done a short while ago, pressed her lips against Annwyl’s …

The Minotaurs, obviously overcoming their moral dilemma, grabbed Dagmar and pulled her to the floor, onto her back. She fought back at the hands grabbing for her, but her focus was on the babes and the priestess who had them. The callous cow hummed as she prepared her ritual, ignoring everything else that was going on around her.

“Look at me, human.”

Dagmar did, staring up at the Minotaur now over her while the others held her pinned to the ground.

“Your pain,” he said softly, “will be my pleasure.”

“And your death,” said Annwyl behind him, “will be mine.”

The Blood Queen then grabbed his head, her fingers digging into his eyes, pressing in until she had them deep into the sockets.

The Minotaur screeched and stood, Annwyl attached to his back, holding on as he desperately tried to get her off.

The others released Dagmar as they went to their commander’s aid. But he was shrieking and turning in circles, unintentionally keeping Annwyl from their grasp while at the same time using her body as a weapon.

Dagmar quickly got to her feet as Annwyl pulled one hand from the Minotaur’s face and reached down yanking the eating dagger he kept on his loin cloth. She raised the blade above him and brought it down into his skull. He squealed, and Annwyl laughed, hysterically, dragging the blade out and slamming it home, again and again.

Finally one of the Minotaurs grabbed hold of her and yanked her off their commander, tossing her across the room. Annwyl hit the wall, the floor, and then jumped right back to her feet.

Now Annwyl screamed, the likes of which Dagmar had never heard before and prayed to never hear again. Annwyl screamed and, covered in blood, charged full into the Minotaurs. They were so stunned it took them a moment to react. One of them went for his blade, but Annwyl snatched it from him, using it to cut his stomach open before turning and boldly swinging the weapon as she did.

Dagmar forced herself to look away and to the priestess.

The priestess was angry, but she didn’t lose her head. Instead see grabbed the dagger and raised it above the girl. Dagmar ran at her, stepped on the weak altar for leverage, and launched herself at the priestess. Well aware she was no fighter, Dagmar wrapped her arms around the heifer’s head and held on.

“Get off me!” the priestess bellowed in outrage and shoved, sending Dagmar flying back. Dagmar hit the ground but kept her head up so it wouldn’t smash into the floor. When she stopped sliding, she grabbed one of the torches and forced her aching body back up. She felt the pain immediately, having never been trained in controlling it, and quickly limped back to the female Minotaur. She slapped the torch into her face, startling and angering her yet again.

“Bitch!”

Dagmar kicked at the bowl filled with oil, aiming for the priestess. It hit her on the side and Dagmar quickly slammed the torch at her. The flame caught and the priestess cried out, yanking off her cloak. Using the time, Dagmar grabbed hold of the twins and quickly retreated. She saw the exit from where she stood, but a slashing, killing Annwyl and still quite a few Minotaurs stood between her and freedom.

The priestess, cloak and flame free, stepped over the altar. She stared at them all, and then she opened her mouth and yelled, “Stop!”

They all did, too. Even Annwyl.

The priestess glanced at Dagmar but seemed confident in her current situation of being unable to escape. Right now, they both knew that Annwyl was her bigger concern.

She raised her arm and stepped a little closer to the queen. “I call upon the darkest powers to come to me,” she chanted, her finger pointing at Annwyl. “I call upon them to possess me and give me the power to destroy this abomination.”

Dagmar stepped forward. “Annwyl, kill her!” she shouted. “Kill her before she can finish!”

She’d never know if Annwyl had heard her words, had understood her words, or simply responded to the sound of yelling. Whatever prompted the queen, the Mad Bitch of Garbhán Isle, it was quite enough.