Feel the Burn (Dragonkin #8)

by G. A. Aiken

  “We’re hungry,” Caswyn complained once Gaius and Brannie were in earshot. Of course, they were always hungry.

  Rolling her eyes, the temper-growing-shorter-by-the-day captain snarled, “Then get something to eat.”

  “Don’t have to snap,” the Mì-runach snarled back.

  She nearly had her sword out when Aidan stepped between the pair. “There’s some sheep over that hill. Over there. Go get some, brother.”

  Growling—or perhaps that was their collective stomachs—Caswyn and Uther wandered off.

  “And bring us something back.” Aidan smiled down at Brannie. “I’m sure you’re hungry, too.”

  “Shut up.” She reached down and grabbed Didacus by his jerkin, dragging him off toward the horses.

  Aidan smirked at the king. “She adores me, you know.”

  “So that’s how the Southlanders get by.” Aidan frowned at that, so Gaius added, “Delusion.”

  Aidan laughed. “Well, it works for our queens. . . .” He motioned to Didacus and Brannie. “Are we going to question this one?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’ll have to wait until Caswyn gets back from eating. He’s the one who’s been trained in the art of torture.”

  “My Uncle Thracius had whole detachments trained in torture. I never saw it as an art form, though.”

  “It is. If you want to keep them alive long enough to get the information.” He motioned to Brannie and Didacus. “I’d best go with her. If he wakes up and gets a bit mouthy . . .”

  Gaius chuckled and nodded.

  Feeling a little worn down these days, Gaius made his way over to a large tree stump. He sat down and stopped to dig his hands into his hair, resting his elbows on his knees.

  He honestly didn’t know how much more of this he could do. He missed his home. He missed his sister. He even missed Aunt Lætitia. And while Brannie and Aidan were tolerable enough, the other two Mì-runach put Gaius’s fangs on edge. The constant bickering. The less-than-intelligent discussions.

  As a son of the Sovereign Empire, Gaius had no tolerance for stupid dragons. And by gods, those two Mì-runach were just plain stupid.

  Plus, he was growing frustrated. Despite hunting down so many of his kin and those loyal to them, Gaius was still no closer to finding Vateria. It was as if she’d vanished. He wanted to believe her dead, but no. If she was dead, Gaius was sure that Aggie would sense it through the lines of magick. They had an unholy connection now. One forged in blood and hatred and the need for vengence.

  With the tips of his fingers Gaius briefly scratched his scalp in frustration before dropping his hands. He gazed at the ground, already feeling defeated when he hadn’t even asked Didacus a question yet.

  Knowing he couldn’t face his cousin like this, Gaius did the one thing that had helped him get through these months away from home. He thought about Kachka. Just remembering her face always made him feel better. Gods, what he wouldn’t give to have had her riding by his side during all this.

  “Do not be so weak, lizard. You will be fine.”

  Shocked to hear her voice, Gaius immediately sat up . . . but . . . it wasn’t Kachka. It was some other woman. A woman he’d never seen before.

  “Pardon?” he asked, trying to slow down his heart.

  “I said, mind if I sit?” She gestured to the stump he was on. He quickly realized this woman did not have the accent of someone from the Outerplains. She also didn’t look like anyone from the Outerplains. She was tall, true. And beautiful. But brown skinned like those of the Desert Lands. Dressed for battle and travel, she smiled down at Gaius.

  “Of course.”

  He moved over a bit, blew out a breath. He should not have been that excited just to hear Kachka Shestakova’s voice—which he guessed had just been his imagination. What the hell was wrong with him?

  The woman dropped her travel pack to the ground with a heavy sigh and moved her shoulders around as she sat down beside Gaius.

  “You wouldn’t be looking for a sword for hire, would you?” she asked.

  “Sorry, no.” He had more than enough swords at his disposal at the moment.

  “Thought I’d at least ask.” She held up a small pouch, offering the jerky within.

  Gaius shook his head and stared off, trying to again focus on dealing with Didacus and finding Vateria. How was he ever going to find Vateria?

  “What about Annwyl?”

  Gaius blinked. “Pardon?”

  “Queen Annwyl. Is she looking for a sword for hire?”

  “Oh.” He gave a little laugh. He was so tired these days, wasn’t he? That was the only thing that could explain . . . forget it. “Uh . . . sword for hire? Probably not. Loyal soldier? Yes. Annwyl’s always looking for those.”

  “Does she pay well?”

  “Well enough, I’m sure.”

  The mercenary pulled out the sword she was offering for hire and he cringed at the sight of it.

  “Oh, come on,” she laughed. “It’s not that bad.”

  “It’s awful,” Gaius disagreed, reaching out and running his hand over it. “The edge is dull and it’s rusted. Perhaps you should join Annwyl’s army just so you can get a decent weapon.”

  She studied the blade. “It’s served me well, though. Over the years.”

  “I’m sure it has, but sometimes things that have served us well need to be retired.”

  “Good point.” She studied him for a long moment until she scrunched up her nose and asked, “Not to be rude, but . . . are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind.”

  “Aye. I understand that. World is changing. Not for the better.”

  “It’s not that bad. I have hope all will work out.”

  “That’s rare.”

  “What is?”

  She smiled. “Hope. Not a lot of people have that these days.”

  “Well . . . that’s what their leaders are for. To give them that hope.”

  She snorted. “You serious? Do you think the leaders of this world give a shit about us?”

  “They have to. Their people are their responsibility. A responsibility most have willingly taken on their shoulders in the hopes of making the lives of their people better.”

  “Not all of them are like that, though.”

  “No. But then it’s up to the rest of those leaders, who do care, to deal with the ones who don’t. A leader has to care for the people. The state. The Republic.”

  “You sound like one of them Sovereigns.”

  Gaius smirked. “I like their philosophy.”

  “A reader, are ya?”

  “I am. But I never saw that as a flaw.”

  She laughed as Brannie walked up to them. She nodded at the woman by Gaius’s side before she said to Gaius, “Caswyn’s back. So whenever you’re ready.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Brannie started to leave, but abruptly stopped, glancing at the woman next to Gaius. She gazed at her a moment before shaking her head and walking off.

  “Do you know my friend?” he asked the woman.

  “I’ve seen her around. Besides,” she teased, “I have a face that’s very familiar.”

  “No, you don’t.” They both laughed a bit and then Gaius stood. “It was nice meeting you.”

  “You too.”

  With a nod, Gaius started to follow Brannie. But he just couldn’t. Not until he fixed it. The problem just ate at him!

  He walked back to the woman and pulled his gladius from the scabbard at his side. “Here. Take this.”

  She reared back a bit, staring at the sword. It was of the highest quality. One of the royal blacksmiths had made it exclusively for Gaius. But honestly, he just couldn’t let that mercenary go off with that rusted piece-of-shit blade she had.

  “I—”

  “Don’t say you can’t. Just take it. I can get another.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  “Don’t test me, woman. Just take it.”

  Wi
th a shrug, she took the blade from his hand. “That’s very kind of you.”

  “Yeah . . . well . . . whatever.”

  “You know,” she said, running her hand over the weapon, “I think I’ll just deal with all this head-on.”

  “Deal with what head-on?”

  She shrugged. “Life. I keep searching. Keep looking. Trying to solve old problems. Instead of going for the problem sitting right in front of me. Understand?”

  “No.”

  She chuckled. “Yeah. Guess I’m babbling. It just . . . it seems that sometimes, you’re dealing with the old, instead of facing the new. And when you do that, your old enemy comes up right behind ya and leaves you dead in the dust.”

  “Secure him!” Brannie yelled, and Gaius turned to see if he could make out what was going on a few dozen feet behind him. Sure everything was fine with his team, Gaius turned back to the woman—but she was gone.

  Gaius turned in circles trying to find her, expecting to see her walking off somewhere, but . . . no. She was gone.

  Perhaps he should have hired her. A woman who moved that stealthily would be a definite asset.

  Gaius returned to the others to find his cousin awake but finally subdued enough to no longer be fighting his captors.

  Once he was standing in front of Didacus, Gaius just stared at him. What was he doing? Why was he wasting any more of his time on this? Eight months and he’d found out nothing about Vateria. And all the while, the curse of Chramnesind continued to spread over his lands.

  The problem sitting right in front of him.

  Aggie? Gaius called out to her.

  Gaius! Is everything all right?

  Yes. I have Didacus.

  He heard his sister’s snort in his head, could imagine her dramatically rolling her eyes. So?

  Exactly. I fear, sister . . . I fear I will never find Vateria. And I’m thinking maybe we should no longer be bothering.

  Aggie was silent for a bit before she replied, Before you left, brother, I would have punched you in the throat for even suggesting we let her go. That we not find her.

  And I would have let you, he answered.

  But I’ve got the Senate on my ass; Aunt Laetitia going on and on about the Gabinius family and how they’re becoming a problem—and they kind of are; the grain imports are low this harvest, which means overpricing from the merchants; and there’s something unclean in the water . . . so I must deal with that.

  Gaius grinned. You’re enjoying it all, aren’t you?

  I am. To be honest, other than worrying about you looking for Vateria, I haven’t thought about that slit in ages.

  Good.

  Besides, we might have a bigger worry.

  Which is?

  Rumor is that Annwyl has successfully pushed the killer Chramnesind cults out of the Southlands territories . . . and right into ours.

  Balls.

  Exactly. I have several legions out looking for—

  No. Call them back.

  But—

  Trust me. They tried the same thing with Annwyl. Pulling her army apart. Then they’ll strike. So pull our legions back.

  All right. But what about the priests and priestesses who reside in our empire? Who expect our protection.

  Gaius stood tall, his eyes narrowing. Where did you send the first legion?

  To the Priests of the God of Suffering.

  He knew the location. Knew of the head priest. All right.

  And when will you be home?

  Soon.

  “Gaius?” Brannie asked. “Everything all right?”

  “Everything is fine. Just checking with my sister.”

  Gaius faced Brannie and pulled the sword she had hanging from her belt and swung it once, cutting Didacus’s head in half. He handed the blade back to her.

  “Let’s go. We head back to Sovereign territories immediately.”

  She stared at the gore-covered weapon for several seconds before looking up at Gaius.

  “What happened to your own sword?”

  “Gave it away. But I need a new gladius. These oversized, cumbersome Southlander swords are ridiculous.”

  “What’s wrong with our swords?” Brannie demanded, the pair walking away seconds before Didacus’s body returned to its natural dragon form, destroying many trees in the process.

  “They’re useless.”

  “Mine seemed to do fine with your cousin’s head!”

  Brigida had been napping on a pile of books when she snapped awake. For a few seconds, she was panicked. She felt lost. Incoherent. She hadn’t felt that way in so long, she was almost positive she’d been a young one again. Still hanging on to her mother’s tail.

  “If you’d been anyone else,” a voice from a dark corner told her, “you’d have woken up screaming.”

  Brigida spun around, her tail sending magick text flying across the room, the tip raised, ready to strike.

  After a moment of silence, the darkness cleared and Brigida let out a breath. “It’s just you.”

  Princess Rhianwen gazed at Brigida in a way that made her feel—for once—surprisingly uncomfortable. No one made her feel uncomfortable. Brigida made others feel uncomfortable. She enjoyed it, feeding off their fear.

  But this mostly human child . . .

  “What do you want, girl?” Brigida snapped.

  Only two of The Three had come back a few months after spending some time with them royals and the Cadwaladr clan. That hadn’t surprised Brigida, though. Talwyn needed to be near her mother. She needed to learn from her. But the boy and the princess . . . they needed to be here. The boy, he’d taken on the other Abominations. Training them. Organizing them. Just like his father, that one. He didn’t like being in charge, but he accepted it when it was necessary. And the girl . . . to be honest, Brigida hadn’t paid much attention to her since she’d returned. They spent their time reading books. Doing rituals. But never together. They barely spoke. And when the girl was feeling lonely, she went outside and spent time with the other Abominations and the monk and two Kyvich witches that the twins had brought with them so many months back. Her “friends,” she called them.

  Witches shouldn’t have friends. Not ones that had real work to do. And them three, Talan, Talwyn, and Rhianwen, all had work to do.

  But needing friends. Needing family . . . that just made the girl weak in Brigida’s mind. Weak and useless. Something Brigida had no time for.

  “What were you dreaming, Auntie Brigida?”

  “Don’t you never mind, girl. Just an old She-dragon dreaming of the—”

  “Stop lying to me,” the girl said, for the first time sounding dangerous. “We don’t have time for your lies and we both know it.”

  “What I know, girl, is that I’m the last one you should think about getting uppity with. I ain’t one of them precious aunts of yours. I ain’t got no real use for you, so stomping on you until you’re nothing but shit on me claw won’t mean nothin’ to me.”

  With a slight shake of her head and a deep intake of breath, the girl sighed out, “Fine.”

  Then the girl slapped her hand against Brigida’s forearm, pressing her fingers against the scales. And, in that instant, Brigida knew the girl was in her head! Physically inside her mind. Looking around, examining shit. Being nosey, Brigida’s mum used to call it.

  Shocked and annoyed, Brigida tossed her out, but when the girl’s eyes snapped open, there was nothing there but cold rage.

  “You bitch,” the brat growled, her voice low. No longer the sweet darling of the Cadwaladr Clan. “You know what they’re looking for. What they’ve been torturing and killing for all these months. You know!”

  “Don’t bellow at me, little bitch! I’ll rip that puny soul right out of you and drink it down like wine.”

  She faced Brigida head-on. “Then do it.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Take my soul. Drink it down like wine. Do it.”

  Brigida reared back a bit. “What is wrong with you?
”

  “What’s wrong with me?” Rhianwen asked. “I’m tired of your shit.”

  “You’ve lost your mind, little girl, if you think you can take me on.” Brigida flicked her claws. “Get from my sight until you get control of yourself.”

  Then Brigida turned to go, but she reared back and, for the first time in eons, she gazed in horror around her. For she was no longer in her cave. But in a field of vast green, with trees and lakes and mountains as far as her old eyes could see.

  “What the . . . what the fuck have you done?”

  “What’s going on?”

  Brigida looked over her shoulder and saw the twins. They were both here. Physically. Although she knew for a fact that the boy had been far outside her cave with the other Abominations and the girl had been with her mother leagues away at Garbhán Isle.

  “What’s happening?” Brigida demanded. “Where am I?”

  “She knows,” Rhianwen told the twins. “She knows and she hasn’t said a word.”

  The boy “tsk-tsk’d” her. “Oh, Auntie Brigida. Still choosing sides?”

  “The only side I have is me own. Thought you knew that.”

  “We’re beyond your side,” Talwyn told her. “Right now, there’s only two. Ours. And his.”

  She was talking about Chramnesind.

  “So if you’re not helping us,” Talwyn went on, “you’re helping him. And we can’t have that.”

  “You lot think you can take me down? Me?”

  “Take you down?” Rhianwen asked. “No. Leave you here to rot? That we can do.”

  “See over there?” Talwyn asked, pointing. “Those three?” Brigida glanced over and spotted the souls of three shamans. They looked like Riders of the Western Mountains. Unlike the Riders of the Outerplains, these Riders were slave traders and Queen Annwyl had made it her business to destroy them. A war that had come right to Annwyl’s door when the children were still very young. “They tried to kill us when we were . . . eight?”