We wait.”
A Sovereign picked Annwyl up by her throat. Based on the elaborateness of his armor and the horse-hair crest on his helm, he was the commanding officer. Motioning to at least twenty of his men, he walked to the only tent that had been set up, dragging a barely conscious Annwyl with him. The men, laughing, fol owed.
“Now do we move?” Rhona asked.
“Now we move.”
They began down the hil , staying low, using the tal grass to shield them. They’d stay human to start and only shift if they deemed it necessary.
But, as they moved, a crow sounded behind them and Rhona instantly stopped.
“What?” Vigholf whispered. “What is it?”
Taking a breath, Rhona let out a similar crow caw and there was an answering response. With a nod, Rhona kept low but ran to her right and slightly up until they spotted a large tree. They went around it and Rhona instantly wrapped her arms around the young She-dragon standing behind it.
“Branwen.”
“Cousin Rhona?” Branwen whispered. “What the hel s are you doing here?”
“Come to get you and your wayward queen. Are you al right?”
“Yeah, fine. I’m fine. We’re fine.”
“Hel o, Vigholf.”
Vigholf smiled at the human girl who spoke to him. She’d matured a bit since Vigholf had last seen her. Grown into a right little cutie. But a cutie that could tear a head off with her bare hands based on the size of her. “Izzy. In trouble again, I see.”
“Only a bit.” She nodded and smiled at Rhona. “Hel o, Rhona.”
“Iseabail,” Rhona said coldly, turning from her. “You two stay here. We’l take care of the—”
“We have our orders,” Izzy said. “You can come with us or you can stay here and watch. But we’re moving.” She nodded at Branwen. “And we’re moving now.”
Rhona glared at the pair as they quickly and quietly headed off down the hil . “Damn brats.”
“Damn soldiers,” he reminded her. “We fol ow?”
“It’s not like we have any choice,” Rhona said, pul ing out her spear and letting it expand until it was the size she wanted it. “Now let’s go kil some murdering bastards.”
Rhona watched her cousin and Iseabail attack first. Brannie seemed to favor the old standard—a sword and a shield. Iseabail, however, used an ax and a short sword. Together, the pair ran into the soldiers cooking their food over pit fires. The first men they encountered barely had time to cal to their comrades before they were cut down by the young females.
Yet the next wave of soldiers had time to pul their weapons and attack, but the four of them ripped through the entire battalion without much effort.
It would have been more of a chal enge if Rhona and Vigholf had been alone or if Branwen and Iseabail hadn’t been as wel trained. But they had been, hacking and slashing their way through the troops, al of them quickly making their way to the tent Annwyl had been pul ed into.
Rhona cleared her way through the soldiers first, giving her a straight run at the tent. She didn’t want her cousin to see . . . Anyway, she thought someone from inside would have heard the screams and been out here to see what was going on by now. But perhaps they were too focused on what they were doing to Annwyl.
Disgusted more than she could say, Rhona charged the tent, but she stumbled back when the tent flap was yanked open. She raised her shield and spear, ready to strike, but it was Annwyl standing in that tent flap. It was Annwyl who was covered in blood and was dragging the moaning commander by the neck of his breastplate.
The queen stopped right outside the tent, eyes blinking slowly. “Rhona?”
“Annwyl?” Rhona looked her over. “Are you al right?”
“Nose is broken,” she muttered. Then she walked off with the commander.
Vigholf stood by Rhona now, the pair staring after Annwyl before looking at each other. Without a word spoken, they entered the tent, but didn’t get any farther than a few inches past the flap.
“Gods, Vigholf.”
“Al of them,” he murmured in awe. “She’s kil ed al of them.”
Not just kil ed either. More like decimated. She must have gotten someone’s sword or ax, because there were pieces of the soldiers everywhere.
Heads, arms, legs . . . penises. Those pieces, along with al the blood, fil ed the entire floor and wal s of the tent.
Rhona walked back outside and watched Annwyl shove the Sovereign commander against the cage they’d kept her in. Iseabail tied the commander’s arms to the bars and Branwen handed Annwyl one of her two swords.
Wondering what the hel s was going on, Rhona headed over to the three females.
Annwyl crouched down before the commander. She stared at him a moment, then broke out in a bright smile. “That was fun, eh?” She poked him in the chest with her fist. Not hard, but based on his reaction Rhona was guessing there were some ribs broken there.
“Now,” Annwyl began, “tel me how you knew I was here.”
“You were seen,” the commander said through blood and broken teeth.
“Now, now. Don’t lie. I am so very good at spotting liars. So don’t lie to me. How did you know I was here? That I was coming?”
“You were seen,” the commander said again, glaring at her through the eye not swol en shut.
Annwyl let out a sigh, stood, and slashed her sword. It moved so quickly, Rhona barely saw it, but she heard the screaming of the commander, saw blood pouring from where Annwyl had hacked off the fingers of his left hand. She crouched in front of him again.
“Let’s try this again. How did you know I was coming? That I was here?”
Panting, gritting his teeth against the pain, “Got a message from Lady Vateria’s mage.”
“She has her own personal mage? How nice. And what’s his name?”
When he didn’t answer, Annwyl began to stand.
“Junius,” the commander said quickly. “Lord Junius.”
Annwyl returned to her position in front of the Sovereign. “And how did he know?” The commander shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“No. You probably don’t.” She reached over to him with her free hand and wiped a splatter of blood away from his jaw. Kind of ludicrous since he was covered in the stuff. His own and that of his men. “But I bet you know where I can find someone else.” She briefly pursed her lips. “Someone important.” She patted his chest. “Tel me where to find Gaius Lucius Domitus.” This time the commander didn’t bother lying; he simply shook his head. “Never. I am a soldier of the Sovereign Provinces and I’l never—” Annwyl hacked off the commander’s arm at the elbow, ignoring the blood that splattered across her face. “Branwen,” she murmured. And Rhona, becoming more horrified by the second, watched as her cousin unleashed a smal stream of flame that cauterized the wound and stopped the bleeding.
Crouching in front of him again, Annwyl calmly asked, “Where can I find Gaius Lucius Domitus?” The strength of wil of this one human commander showed why the Irons and Sovereigns were not easily kil ed. The leader shook his head. “I’l tel you nothing, whore.”
Rocking back and forth on the bal s of her feet, Annwyl said, “I can hurt you . . . for hours. Just like you were planning to do to me tonight. So, let’s not pretend you have any real choice in the matter. Tel me where to find Gaius Lucius Domitus. And tel me right now.”
“No.”
Without raising her voice, Annwyl said, “Izzy.”
And Iseabail the Dangerous, Daughter of Talaith and Briec, used her battle-ax to hack off the commander’s leg just below his knee, and Branwen quickly fol owed that up with a blast of flame.
The commander’s screams echoed out in the night and Rhona stepped forward, about to demand Annwyl stop this, but Vigholf caught her arm, shook his head. She didn’t know if he stopped her because he was al right with al this—or afraid of what Annwyl would do about the interruption.
“Where can I find Gaius Lucius Domitus?” And this time, the crazed bitch almost sang that question.
Shaking, the commander said, “He lives outside the Provinces. In the Septima Mountains. But he’l be no more welcoming to you than Vateria.
He’l kil you, whore, and your friends.”
“That is so considerate,” Annwyl mocked. “Warning me of impending doom after I’ve done nothing but cut pieces off you. When you think about it, it’s very considerate. I’m sure it’s not that you just don’t want me to find him because he’s a real threat to your overlord and his bitch daughter. I’m sure that’s not it at al . But thank you for not lying. I appreciate that.”
Annwyl stood, re-sheathed her sword, and took her other sword from Branwen. She stepped away and came toward Rhona and Vigholf, while behind the queen, Izzy finished the commander off, using her ax to remove his head.
Once Annwyl reached Rhona, she tossed her swords at her. Rhona jumped a little but managed to catch the weapons just the same.
“So,” Annwyl said as she grabbed her nose between both hands, “are you two coming with us?”
“We’re here to fetch you,” Vigholf told her. “Your armies are moving through the Eastern Pass toward Euphrasia Val ey. It’l soon begin, Annwyl.”
“It’s already begun. The Irons attacked last night. Siege weapons.”
“What?” Vigholf asked. “How do you know this?”
With a good snap Annwyl put her broken nose back into place and retrieved her weapons from Rhona. “We don’t have much time. Come with us or go back. Your choice. But I’m not stopping until I see Gaius Domitus.”
“You’l never get to him,” Rhona told her. “They already know you’re here. Vateria sent out a search party for you. A raping, pil aging search party that’s destroyed vil ages while they look for you.”
“You’re blaming me? For that?”
Not real y, but stil . . . “Annwyl, everything’s changed. If the battle for Euphrasia has begun, you must go back.”
“If I go back now, we al die or become slaves to that tyrant.” She finished tying her swords to her back and patted Rhona on the shoulder. Rhona took it as a source of pride that she managed not to flinch or jump away from that pat. Years of training, that is. Years of training.
“I’l not think less of you if you return to your comrades in the Val ey. But I’m going to finish this . . . with or without you.” Annwyl stepped between them and began to walk off. That’s when Vigholf said, “The Western Tribesmen are attacking Garbhán Isle, Annwyl.
Where your children are.”
The queen stopped in her tracks, her body one rigid line of tense muscle. But she took several breaths and said, “With or without you, I’m going.” To Rhona’s shock, the queen headed off into the forests, heading farther into the west. Rhona never thought Annwyl would leave her children to the whim of fate with Tribesmen at her door. But she was leaving them and, without question, Iseabail and Branwen fol owed her. Rhona didn’t bother to cal her cousin back. She knew Brannie’s decision had been made. For whatever reason, she’d fol ow this mad queen on her insane quest, and there was nothing Rhona could do about it.