“Didn’t feel like it. And I don’t think ‘Because I said so’ is really a good enough reason for not letting me do you this favor.”
Keita’s eyes narrowed on Éibhear and Éibhear narrowed his right back.
“Maybe you could have just asked them to check with your sister before you attacked them,” Vigholf suggested.
Letting out a sigh, Éibhear yelled out, “Aidan! Are they still breathing?”
“Aye. They are.” The three Mì-runach entered the cavern, Aidan stopping to lean against the entrance wall with one shoulder. “And they still have all their parts. That’s pretty good for us.”
Éibhear looked at Vigholf. “Happy now?”
“Not particularly.”
“We will take care of my niece. You can just head home,” Keita insisted.
Éibhear couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Are you really trying to keep me away from her? After all this time?”
“It’s not just me, brother, and we’re doing it in Izzy’s best interest.”
“Oh, come on, Keita. That was a long time ago. And I apologized.”
“And when did you do that? You haven’t seen her in ten years!”
“Five years ago I wrote her a letter and apologized.”
“Uh . . .”
Éibhear looked over his shoulder at Aidan. “Uh . . . what?”
Caswyn looked at Aidan, and asked, “You didn’t tell him?”
“Tell me? Tell me what?”
“It never seemed the right time.”
“What never seemed the right time? What’s going on?”
Aidan stared at Éibhear and finally admitted, “We burned your letter.”
Keita gave a shocked laugh as Éibhear faced his comrades.
“You did what?”
“Don’t get mad. It was in your best interest.”
“How was burning my letter to Izzy in my best interest?”
“We could have let it be sent instead.”
“Females hate that,” Uther felt the need to explain. “A letter. If you can’t say it to her face, then you shouldn’t bother.”
“So we’ll go pick her up,” Aidan said, winking at Éibhear. “You can tell her to her face on the way to Garbhán Isle.”
Éibhear looked back at his sister. “Guess I’ll be picking up Izzy. So we can talk.”
Keita’s eyes crossed. “Why must you be sooooo difficult?”
“It’s in the bloodline.”
“That’s no longer a good enough excuse!”
Éibhear reached over and stroked his sister’s cheek. “I’m glad to see you’re well, sister.” He turned, headed toward the exit. “Where can I find Izzy?”
“You’ll find her in the Blathnat Forests fighting the ogres,” Ragnar replied.
Éibhear stopped, glanced back at the Northland Dragonlord. “Because she’ll ask . . . why am I taking Izzy back to Garbhán Isle?”
“I still say you shouldn’t be taking her—” Keita began to protest again, but Ragnar covered her snout with his claw and nodded at Éibhear.
“Have a good trip. We’ll see you at Garbhán Isle in a few days’ time.”
Not only did Éibhear realize that Ragnar didn’t answer his question, he also kind of knew that the Lightning wasn’t going to answer his question. No matter how many times he asked. So why bother? Instead, he headed off to track down Izzy and do what he thought he’d done five years ago.
Once Éibhear and his entourage of dangerous friends were gone, Keita slapped her mate’s claw off her snout and spun to face him. “Why did you do that?”
“I don’t see the problem, Keita.”
“Of course you don’t.” She swept her claw at the idiot Northland males. “None of you do!”
“Where’s Éibhear going?” Rhona demanded as she stalked into the cavern.
“These idiots—”
Vigholf frowned. “What do you mean ‘these idiots’?”
“—sent Éibhear to pick up Iseabail.”
Rhona stopped and faced Vigholf. “You did what?”
“It wasn’t me. It was Ragnar.”
Ragnar sighed in disgust. “Your weakness sickens me, brother.”
Vigholf shrugged. “I do what I have to in order to get through my day.”
“You lot,” Rhona said, sneering. “You Northlanders forget nothing.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Rhona.”
“This is still about that cousin of yours missing his wing and horns, isn’t it?”
“That was a long time ago,” Vigholf stated. “Nothing we’d ever . . . cling to.”
“Although it would have been nice if he’d at least apologized.”
“You bastards,” Rhona sighed, shaking her head. “All of you . . . bastards.”
“I don’t know what you’re all talking about,” Keita snarled. “And I don’t care. I just can’t believe you were all so bloody stupid!”
“The boy’s no longer a hatchling, Keita,” Ragnar argued. “So I’m unclear why you’re acting like he is.”
“But Izzy—”
“Is definitely no longer a child. Not anymore. So stop trying to protect her from your brother.”
Keita sat back on her haunches, crossed her forearms over her chest, and challenged, “And what makes you think it’s Izzy we’re protecting?”
The three Northland males smirked and Ragnar said with so much false innocence, her back fangs ached. “Oh . . . was that your concern?”
“Told you, cousin,” Rhona sighed, heading toward several crates of ale. “Bastards. All of ’em.”
Chapter 3
As human, in their Ice Land fur capes that hid their faces and chain-mail leggings and shirts, the four Mì-runach stood on the ridge overlooking the valley caught between a half-ring of mountains and a vast forest where a battle raged on.
“I didn’t know we’d have to fight our way in,” Aidan complained. “I was hoping we’d swoop in and swoop out.”
“That won’t be happening today.”
A battle cry sounded from beside them and Uther turned, gutting the male running at them with his blade and tossing the body back several feet.
Éibhear sighed. “That was one of Annwyl’s men.”
“Oh.” Uther shrugged. “Sorry.”
“Annwyl’s troops are in red and silver. The enemies are ogres, which means their skin is in varying shades of green and they’re not human. So it shouldn’t be too hard to figure out.”
“Why are they fighting ogres?” Caswyn asked.
“Annwyl had to fight ogres once in a pit fight. Now she hates ogres.”
“Interesting woman, your human queen.”
Éibhear walked a bit until he found a path leading down the ridge and right into the battle. As they walked, not really engaging in the battle unless threatened, Aidan asked him, “So which one is the infamous Izzy?”
“Can’t you tell?”
“I can tell.” Caswyn stopped, pointed at a warrior woman riding on a black steed, her sword flashing as she gave orders to the men surrounding her.
Aidan laughed. “Not even close.”
“Why not? She looks like a proper soldier, leading a queen’s army into battle.”
“That’s the problem. Éibhear’s never been interested in anyone doing the ‘proper’ thing.”
“Then who?”
Aidan looked over the battle, then finally smiled and pointed. “Her.”
They all looked where he pointed, but all Éibhear could see was a group of ogres beating on something with their clubs. Then there was a scream and a shield came up from the center of those ogres, pushing them back. And from the midst of all that green flesh, she stood. Tall and proud. No longer the young girl he’d met so many years ago, nor the young soldier he’d walked away from.
Now she was something different. Scarred, bruised, and covered in blood, she shoved her long shield forward, knocking a few more ogres out of her way. From her left, another ogre swung at her. Izzy raised her arm, caught the club in her hand. Snarling, she yanked the weapon from the ogre and turned on him, kicking him in the gut. The shield was yanked from her, but that just freed her to grip the club in both hands. She swung it, knocking an ogre to the ground; then she brought the club up and over, bringing the spiked head of the weapon down onto the ogre’s face.
Screaming, she ripped the club out of the skull and took out another attacker. That’s when Caswyn looked at Éibhear. “Yeah. Aidan’s right. That’s gotta be her.”
Iseabail, Daughter of Talaith and Briec, Human Princess by Mating of the House of Gwalchmai fab Gwyar, and General of the Eighth, Fourteenth, and Twenty-sixth Legions of Annwyl the Bloody, Queen of Garbhán Isle and Dark Plains, ducked the flint axe swinging for her head and brought the club she held up between the legs of the ogre trying to kill her.
He squealed and dropped to his knees. Izzy tore the spiked club up and out of the ogre’s body, then brought it back down on his head, now that he was closer to her height.
It had been a bloody, ugly war for the last two months, but Izzy hoped an end was near because she believed she was finally getting her chance at the ogre leader. Once he was dead, the rest of his army would fall.
So she took down another ogre, ducked a flint axe aimed at her head, and crushed a kneecap with a well-placed kick, all in the hopes of finding that damn ogre leader.
“Iz!”
Izzy heard her dragon cousin’s screamed warning and was able to move out of the way in time to avoid the ogre attacking from behind, but the blade of his flint axe cut across her arm. The wound began to bleed almost immediately and she knew she’d have to get it sewn up. But she refused to worry about that now. Not with the ogre leader finally in her sights. She could see him about thirty feet away. So very close.
Izzy spun, swung the club, and slammed it into the neck of the bastard behind her as he tried to run away. He went down face first and Izzy pulled out her sword and rammed it into the back of the beast’s head.
“Izzy.”
She heard her name called again, this time by a much different voice from her cousin Branwen’s, but she had to ignore it as she was being attacked again. Gods, the ogres just keep coming.
She blocked the flint mace aimed for her face by using the club she still held in her left hand and cut the thick arteries inside the ogre’s thighs with her sword. She spun and slashed her sword again, cutting a throat, then spun again and swung, but her blade was stopped by an obscenely large battle axe. She knew the weapon was not an ogre’s. They only used flint weapons and although deadly were often crudely made. This was a well-made weapon forged by a true blacksmith.
So Izzy struck at the knees with the club she still held. The heavy flint made contact and there was an angry snarl from beneath the heavy fur cape that covered the face and body of the axe wielder.