Bring the Heat Read online

  “Talwyn? What is it that?”

  A screech exploded from Izzy’s tent and they watched their cousin Rhianwen, another powerful Abomination like them, stumble out, her hands over her eyes, blood pouring through her fingers.

  Talan caught his cousin in his arms.

  “Make it stop!” Rhian begged. “Make it stop!”

  Talwyn pressed her fingers against their cousin’s forehead and Rhian passed out. A protection spell also surrounded her. Talan could feel it encasing her body like a thin sheet made of iron.

  “Put her on my horse,” Talwyn ordered and Talan set Rhian on the beast’s back, allowing her to slump forward so that her head pressed against the animal’s neck.

  “Protect her, Aghi,” she told her horse.

  “There,” Talan said, pointing out the spell caster.

  A beautiful, eyeless woman on one of the high hills.

  “I’ll—” Talwyn began but then everything changed.

  The ground beneath their feet moved and cracked, jerking them hard, startling the soldiers around them.

  Talan knew then there was no time for plans and plots. They had to move.

  “Pull back!” Talwyn yelled at the soldiers. “Pull back now! Go!”

  The pair took off toward the hill, both of them now screaming for the soldiers to get out.

  “Go! Don’t look back! Just go! Run!”

  Thankfully her mother had trained the legions to listen to Talan’s and Talwyn’s orders as if they were coming from Annwyl directly.

  So the soldiers ran. They ran fast and hard. Many grabbed the reins of their horses and made a break for it, few willing to leave their loyal mounts behind.

  As Talan ran by an archer, he grabbed the woman’s bow and yanked the quiver from another’s back. When he was close enough, he knelt, knocked his arrow, and released.

  His aim was true, and the arrow flew up the hill with great power and speed and—broke into pieces before ever reaching the eyeless Zealot priestess.

  Something protected her as something now protected Rhian.

  Even worse, though, she wasn’t alone. There were other priestesses, on other hills. They began to sing the spell with her. Their beautiful voices uniting.

  The twins glanced at each other and, with a nod, moved.

  Talwyn crouched and placed her hands flat against the ground. A spell tumbled from her lips, too fast for Talan to understand. While his twin did that, he caught sight of two knights attempting to mount their skittish horses, the poor animals terrified by everything going on around them.

  Talan ran up to the soldiers, pulled out the short sword at his side, and cut the throats of both horses.

  The animals immediately dropped, one landing on his rider.

  “What have you done?” one of the knights bellowed.

  Talan never answered. Instead, he watched in horror as two mountains in the distance crumbled like tiny hills of dirt built by a small child.

  He faced the knight. “Go!” he ordered and dropped to his knees beside the carcasses. Talan placed his hands on the neck of each animal, closed his eyes, and let the darkness that lay beneath the land flow into his body until it reached his hands. He unleashed the power into the dead horses and, in a few seconds, watched them struggle to their hooves. Their eyes were blood red now and he could see the inside of their throats from where he’d cut them open.

  Talan pointed at the priestess and ordered the horses, “Kill her!”

  The dead animals took off running and Talan turned in time to see the power of his sister’s spell spreading through the ground, up through the hill under the priestess’s protection, and out of the green earth.

  Talan’s dead horses had also made their way up the hill and the magicks used to protect the priestess were unable to stop the living dead, as vines and limbs burst through the ground and wrapped themselves around the priestess’s legs.

  Her beautiful voice was cut off abruptly as the vines began to wrap her from toe to blind face. She tried to fight and started singing again. But the vines, once they had hold of her, began to pull her down. Down into the dark. While Talan’s dead horses attacked her with their hooves, battering her around the head and shoulders.

  The twins turned from her but they knew their work wasn’t done. There were now at least five blind priestesses, singing their spell. And more mountains were falling. Mountains that had been there since before the dragons.

  Talwyn and her brother stared at each other. Again, no words were spoken between them. They already knew what had to be done. Their mother’s troops had to be saved. Everyone had to be moved to safer ground. Rhian had to be retrieved and healed.

  So . . . what about their mother?

  They moved away from each other, neither willing to discuss that. They just knew what they had to do. What Annwyl the Bloody would expect them to do, leaving the queen—if she was still alive—to fight her own, terrible battles.

  Chapter Two

  Annwyl would wake up briefly. Pass out. Wake up. Pass out. Again and again. When she was awake, she knew she was being dragged. But to where or why, she didn’t know.

  The fall hadn’t killed her but she also didn’t know why. Because it felt as if she’d fallen for hours. Days. Like she would never stop falling.

  But, eventually, she’d landed and lost consciousness. Whenever she would wake up, though, she’d realize that she was being dragged. By something that smelled awful.

  Finally she woke up and was able to stay awake, quickly noting that she was in some kind of dungeon or jail. Something had hold of her right foot and was still dragging her along the ground, not taking care to avoid any bumps or holes in their path.

  She lifted her head to get a look at her captor and saw . . . a tail. A green-scaled tail with a spiked end.

  Annwyl sat up a little more and realized that yes, she was being dragged through a dungeon by a walking lizard. A big, walking lizard.

  Before she could really analyze that, the lizard stopped in front of metal bars. He opened the door set in the middle of the bars and threw Annwyl inside by her leg. Her body flew across the room and rammed into the far wall.

  She managed to protect her head from the impact but the wind was still knocked out of her by the time she hit the ground.

  It took her a bit to get her senses back and by then, the door to her cell had been slammed shut and locked. She struggled up until she was sitting on her ass and could study the beings staring at her through the bars.

  There were five of them now. All walking lizards. There was something human about them, though. Like the fact they were all wearing leather kilts to hide their groins and several had on earrings and decorative necklaces.

  They spoke to each other in low guttural sounds, their bright yellow eyes locked on her.

  Annwyl decided to try and speak to them.

  “Where am I? And who are you?”

  One of them barked at her—literally—and she knew he was telling her to shut up, even though she didn’t understand his words.

  “Piss off then!” Annwyl snapped back.

  A lizard wearing a necklace made of animal fangs and human teeth, stepped forward and opened its mouth.

  A forked tongue like a snake’s shot out. But unlike a snake’s tongue, it managed to reach across the entire room and flick over a bare spot on Annwyl’s elbow.

  She cried out from the searing pain, cupping her wounded elbow with her other hand.

  “Bastard!”

  He flicked her again.

  “Ow! Stop it!”

  The other lizard-men laughed as their friend did it again—so Annwyl caught his tongue with both her hands, ignoring the burning pain in her fingers and the palms of her hands. And she pulled.

  Eyes wide in panic, he slapped at his friends with his clawed hands and several grabbed hold of him to keep him away from the bars while the others took hold of his tongue, trying to get it back. One or two even used their own tongues to hit her in the face and neck, tryi
ng to get her to release him. But Annwyl was angry now. She didn’t really feel pain when she was angry.

  So she held on and kept pulling.

  Together, the lizard-men dragged Annwyl across the cell floor, using their friend’s poor tongue. But when Annwyl neared the door, she raised her legs and planted her feet against the metal bars. Secure, she began to wind the lizard’s tongue around one arm like a lengthy rope. She wound and wound until he was pressed up on the other side of the bars.

  The other lizard-men growled and barked and bared their fangs at her. She still didn’t understand their words, but she sensed they were telling her to let their friend go.

  She didn’t.

  Instead, Annwyl dropped her legs to the ground and, taking one big step back, turned and yanked. She let out a triumphant scream when she knew she’d torn the tongue from the bastard’s snout.

  Slowly she faced her shocked captors and told them, “I. Said. Stop. That.” She tossed the insanely long tongue into a corner on the far side of the room. “Now you know I meant it.”

  Blood pouring from his snout, the tongueless lizard grabbed at the bars of the door and Annwyl met him on the other side.

  While she screamed and he roared, they reached through the bars and battered each other with punches until the lizard-man’s friends pried him away from her cell.

  Annwyl, still caught up in her anger, continued to scream and reach through the bars for her prey. She was so lost in what she was doing, she had no idea how long she kept it up and no idea how long the lizard-men had been gone.

  Finally, though, her anger left her. That’s when she yelled, “And if I don’t get any food, I’m going to eat his tongue!”

  No one replied, so she released her grip on the bars and dropped back down. She hadn’t even realized she’d been a good three or four feet off the ground, but that’s how it was when her anger got the best of her. It wasn’t her fault. It was their fault for making her so angry. Those lizard-people.

  She would not take responsibility for any of this. Just like always.

  Letting out a breath, she put her hands on her hips and took a quick look around to see if there was a way out of here. That’s when she noticed the captive men in cells across from her.

  Silently they gawked, mouths open.

  Annwyl shrugged her shoulders. “What?” she barked and they all quickly turned away or disappeared into the darkness at the back of their cells.

  “Yeah,” she muttered, still annoyed and her rage still pulsing through her, “that’s what I thought.”

  Chapter Three

  Branwen pushed her claws through dirt and trees and rock until she finally felt the heat of the two suns against her scales.

  Desperate to be free, she continued to fight her way out. Unwilling to give up. She was a Cadwaladr, she kept reminding herself. We never give up!

  So she fought on until her forearms and head cleared the pile of rubble. She grabbed on to anything she could, her claws groping. She shook her head, trying to get the dirt out of her eyes.

  She found something sturdy, using it to help her drag herself out.

  Once she was free, Brannie dropped her head against her forearm and took in deep gulps of sweet air.

  Not a lot frightened her. Not even death. But being buried alive? The torture of dark suffocation before death? That she was officially terrified of.

  Something grabbed Brannie’s forearm and she jerked back until she saw gold glinting in the light of the two suns.

  “Aidan,” she gasped, quickly realizing she’d forgotten all about him.

  She gripped his claw with her own so that he knew he wasn’t alone. That someone was here for him. Then she pulled the rest of her body out of the dirt. She didn’t stop, though, to appreciate the fresh air this time. Instead, she began digging. Using her claws and the tip of her tail, going deep until she saw the top of Aidan’s head.

  She dug farther until she could grip his shoulders. She pulled him up, while Aidan did his best to get out on his own. Probably panicking as much as she had when she’d realized how easily she could die right there.

  Aidan’s claws reached up and gripped her upper arms, holding them tight as Brannie gritted her fangs and heaved.

  She dragged him halfway out, until they both dropped to the ground, panting hard.

  “Gods,” he gasped. “Thank you.”

  “I couldn’t leave you there.”

  He shook his head, dirt flying from his gold hair. Then he abruptly froze.

  “Caswyn and Uther.”

  Together they scrambled over what was left of the mountain, digging through broken, ancient trees, boulders, anything that was in their way, desperately looking for signs of Aidan’s two Mì-runach brothers.

  Brannie had just thought she’d felt something on the tips of her claws when she heard the rustling of trees nearby.

  She stood and turned, quickly realizing she no longer had any of her weapons.

  A small troop of men came out of the woods. Scouts. Zealots.

  “Aidan,” she said softly.

  He wanted to search for his friends, and had no time to negotiate with these men so willing to die for their one god. Some of them were maimed in the name of their god, missing one eye or both.

  With a quick intake of breath, Aidan unleashed his flame. But when the fire had settled down, the men still stood. Alive and well and not turned to ash.

  The one in front—he was only missing one eye—raised his hands into the air and looked up at the sky. “Thank you, mighty Chramnesind!”

  He laughed hysterically. “You cannot harm us, dragons! Our god has given us His protection. Your fire means nothing to us!”

  The land shook and trees swayed as a battered, limping Uther pushed his way into the clearing. He cradled a damaged forearm within his opposite claw and his poor leg dragged uselessly behind him. One side of his face and snout were bloody and his left eye was swollen shut. But he was alive.

  “Another!” the Zealot cheered. “It does not matter! Even now our legion is near, marching toward this clearing. They will destroy all of you and your weak flame will not harm us! For we are the mighty, fighting for the one, true—”

  The Zealot’s rant ended when Aidan slammed his black claw down on the group of scouts. His flame might not be effective, but he was still a dragon.

  The few who weren’t instantly crushed by Aidan’s claw tried to make a run for it, but Brannie swiped at them, sending them flying into nearby trees. Their backs and heads breaking against hard trunks.

  “Humans,” Aidan muttered in disgust while scraping the blood and gore from the bottom of his foot.

  “They were right, though,” Uther said. “There are at least two legions minutes away and they’ve got siege weapons.”

  Siege weapons that could take down dragons with ease.

  “It looks like we’ll die on the field of battle this day after all, my friends,” Uther announced with great pride.

  Brannie, in no mood for such ridiculous sentiment, glanced at Aidan so that he could clearly see her eyes before she focused on finding trapped Caswyn, still buried under the mountainous rubble.

  * * *

  Understanding that look on Brannie’s face, Aidan quickly picked up the remains of the fallen Zealots and tossed them in a direction away from the legions heading their way. Then he moved to deal with Uther, knowing Brannie would have no patience for Uther’s need to “die with honor.”

  “No, Uther,” Aidan said, keeping his voice stern. “We will not be dying this day.”

  “We have no choice.” Uther pointed. “They’re right there. Cutting through the tree line. They’ll be here in—”

  “Get it out of your head, idiot. We didn’t survive all this so we could die five minutes later at the hands of Zealots. So get your shit together and shift to human!”

  “But—”

  “Now! Or I swear by all that’s unholy—”

  “Got him!” Brannie cheered, and Aidan rush
ed to her side.

  He crouched and saw the top of Caswyn’s head. They dug their claws deep into the dirt and, together, dragged his unconscious—but breathing!—friend from what had almost become his untimely crypt.

  Once they had him free, they laid him out and Aidan lightly slapped both sides of his face, attempting to wake Caswyn.

  “Hurry,” Brannie urged as she shifted to human and helped a slow-moving Uther deep into the trees.

  “I’m trying.” He lightly slapped Caswyn’s face again. When that didn’t work, he punched him hard. Like he often did when his friend was drunk.

  Caswyn’s eyes opened slightly.

  “Can you shift to human, brother?”

  Unable to speak, Caswyn closed his eyes and, after a moment, weak flames surrounded him. It took longer than usual but with some effort, Caswyn managed to shift to his human form.

  Staying dragon—and praying none of the Zealots caught sight of him as they crossed a nearby hill—Aidan carried his friend to the line of trees and, once there, shifted to human as well.

  He hoisted Caswyn onto his shoulders and rushed into the forest after Brannie.

  He found her and Uther sitting safely by an enormous boulder and placed Caswyn next to Uther.

  “Keep him quiet,” he told Uther, since Caswyn was known for the occasional night terror when he was passed-out drunk. No use believing it would be any different now simply because he was unconscious for other reasons besides drink.

  Aidan crept up beside Branwen and crouched near her. Together they peeked around the boulder as the Zealot legions came into sight. They marched toward the clearing, not too far from where Aidan and Brannie were hidden.

  As they marched, several of the soldiers, most of them completely blind, began singing songs in praise of their eyeless god. They all seemed happy, but Aidan didn’t understand how anyone could be happy living like that.

  Not being blind—as many of them were—because blindness could happen to anyone and several of the Mì-runach had gained their legendary status when they continued to fight for their queen without the gift of eyesight. They merely learned to rely on their other senses. It was, as one of Aidan’s early trainers had told him, “only a tragedy if you make it one.”