Dragon Kin: What A Dragon Should Know Part 46

But Annwyl's hysterical scream drowned her out, and then the Blood Queen was charging the Minotaur female, slamming into her, knocking her into the ground. She yanked the blade from the female's chest and raised it. Still screaming, she slammed it into her. The priestess's howl of pain filled the tunnel, but it still couldn't block out Annwyl's scream. It went beyond a battle cry. It went beyond anything.

And while she screamed, over and over again, Annwyl yanked the weapon out, and slammed it back in.

Unable to turn away, they all watched her, even Dagmar. The Minotaur males didn't move. Their commander was dead and their priestess was being murdered right before them.

And it was murder. A brutal, vicious murder. Blood and gore flew everywhere, even striking Dagmar and the babes, but Annwyl kept going until the tip of the blade slammed into the ground beneath them. That's when she released it and tore at the priestess's chest using only her bare hands. She tore the ribs apart and began to slam her fist inside the open chest cavity again and again.

By now the female Minotaur had long died, but apparently Annwyl's rage was still going strong.

Dagmar lost count of how many times Annwyl struck at the open chest in front of her. How many times she yanked organs out and tossed them over her shoulder. For the first time in her life, Dagmar was mesmerized, unable to think or reason or do much of anything but stare.

It took them long minutes before the Minotaurs finally snapped out of their own state of shock, and one of them, a giant with an absolutely enormous head, moved toward her. He slowly raised his sword and Dagmar went to warn Annwyl, but a blade held against her throat cut off the sound.

The Minotaur now stood behind Annwyl, the sword held in both hands over her naked back. Without a sound, he brought it down. But as the tip of the blade neared her spine, Annwyl moved. She simply lifted her right arm and reared to her left side. The blade slammed into the Minotaur female's empty chest. The male stared dumbly at what he'd done, and then his gaze turned to Annwyl. Her smile was mad, one corner of her mouth lifting, her green eyes rising up to look at him through the wild tumble of hair in her face.

"Missed," she hissed, and the Minotaur stumbled back. He was terrified. He couldn't hide it, not from his comrades, not from himself. For the first time in his life, Dagmar was sure, an Ice Lander was terrified and everyone knew it-because they were all terrified as well.

Terrified as they watched Annwyl grab the hilt of the Minotaur's blade still sticking up from the female's chest. Terrified as the much smaller human and naked female got to her feet. Annwyl panted, not from exertion ... but from l.u.s.t. From desire. The desire for the kill. Dagmar had never seen it like this before. Not like this. Not as if the warrior would climax at any moment merely from the threat she presented.

The queen's crazed gaze shifted to Dagmar and the Minotaur behind her lowered his blade and moved away. He held his hands up, the palms coated with a lighter, paler fur than the brown and white on top.

As one, the Minotaurs all moved back, watching her closely, so closely.

Annwyl wet her lips, her panting getting heavier, her body more aroused by the second. Then she screamed; she screamed and the Minotaurs ran. Down the tunnel they'd built and out into the sunlight they rarely saw.

And Annwyl? She was right behind them.

Fearghus stopped short and Gwenvael almost ran into the back of him. His brother turned, his eyes wild as he searched the area. Annwyl's horse reared up and held its ground.

"What? What is it?"

"Listen!"

Gwenvael heard it then. Something he thought never to hear again. The battle cry of the Blood Queen.

"There! She's there!"

And Annwyl was there, tearing out of a hole dug into the base of a small hill. She wasn't running away, though; she was running after. Running after the Minotaurs she'd chased off. At least nine feet tall and outweighing her by more than twenty stone, the Minotaurs ran. But she caught up with them. As he, Fearghus, Briec, and Bercelak all landed nearly a hundred feet away, Annwyl caught up with the first one. She slashed the back of his ankles and he tumbled forward. As he rolled onto his back, she cut his throat and kept moving, slashing at another. The Minotaurs had hoped to outrun her, but now there were dragons in their way, cutting them off.

Briec took in a breath, ready to douse them all in flame, but Fearghus shook his head. "No. Leave it."

"But Annwyl will be safe." A gift from their mother protected Annwyl from a dragon's flame. It had helped her more than once during a messy battle.

"Leave it," Fearghus said again.

They did, and the Minotaurs, realizing they couldn't escape, spun around to face Annwyl. They attacked as one fighting unit, nearly twelve of them remaining from what Dagmar had a.s.sured Fearghus would be a force of at least fifty. But the blade Annwyl carried-a short sword for a Minotaur, but nearly double the length of Annwyl's own broad sword-flashed in the sun as she went to work.

It was a brutal battle, the Blood Queen once again proving her name as she hacked away at arms, legs, and heads. The heads were hard to take, so she crippled most of them first and then went from one to the other to the other, finishing them off. As the brothers and their father watched, Morfyd and Rhiannon landed, followed by Talaith and Izzy arriving on horseback. Then the Cadwaladr Clan arrived, dropping from the sky and watching as Annwyl did what she'd always done best.

She went to the last one, who no longer had legs but was still struggling to get away. She planted her foot into his back and held him in place. Then she raised the sword in her hands and brought it down against his neck. The first strike did not take his head, so she hacked and hacked until it fell off.

Then Annwyl stood there, panting, her naked body covered in blood. But she was alive. Very much alive.

And completely insane.

Gwenvael heard a small cry and looked up to see Dagmar walk out of the tunnel. She was dirty, her clothes torn, and she had some blood on her, but she was alive and so were the twins. They were the ones crying, annoyed, it seemed, more than anything. But all four were fine-four because he now included Dagmar's spectacles in all estimates.

She looked at him, her relieved smile warming him in a way he'd never felt before. He stepped forward, determined to get to her, but her eyes widened and she quickly shook her head. Good thing, too, because Annwyl turned on him so fast, Gwenvael took a hasty step back. She held the blade in both hands, raised high on her side. A move for a running attack.

Fearghus scowled, more confused than angry. "Annwyl?"

Her green eyes shifted toward Fearghus, but Gwenvael saw no recognition of her mate. No undying love and loyalty. As far as Annwyl the b.l.o.o.d.y was concerned, all of them were enemies.

"Get on the horse," Annwyl ordered Dagmar.

Gwenvael shook his head. "Wait-" But his mother caught his arm, pulled him back. She stepped in front of him, prepared to protect her son, and kept her eyes on Annwyl.

"Move!" Annwyl commanded again.

Dagmar did, going to Annwyl's stallion. The horse lowered himself to the ground and Dagmar climbed onto his back, the babes in her arms making it an awkward ordeal. Annwyl moved toward the horse, her gaze constantly scanning from one dragon to the other. She reached Violence and slid on behind Dagmar. She still held the sword and appeared ready to use it at any second.

"Take his mane," she ordered Dagmar as the horse stood tall. "Now hold on. He knows where to go."

Annwyl pointed her sword at Celyn and Branwen. "Move!" The two youngsters fell over each other trying to get out of the way, until their mother grabbed them by their hair and yanked them back.

"Go," Annwyl told her horse.

Violence reared up then shot off, tearing through the empty s.p.a.ce the young siblings left.

As the horse disappeared over a hill, Gwenvael's Dragon Kin stood silent, unsure what to do next.

Then Addolgar earnestly asked, "I'm confused. Is she dead or not?"

Chapter 29.

After all that, Dagmar had really hoped they were heading back to Garbhn Isle, but no. A nice inn somewhere in one of the villages? No. A pub for a pint ... or twelve pints, one after the other until she could no longer see straight with or without her spectacles? No.

Instead of any of those lovely ideas, the Queen of Dark Plains took her to a cave. A dark, dank cave. She couldn't even see her hand in front of her face or the babes in her arms, but of course this place must be safer than the tunnel they'd just escaped from.

She hoped so, anyway.

Thankfully the horse seemed to know where he was going, happily trotting along through the winding black tunnels. Eventually he stopped and Annwyl jumped off. Dagmar could hear the queen moving around and some cursing when she walked into things. But then flint struck rock and a torch was lit. Annwyl walked around the cavern, lighting more torches attached to the walls, and as she did, Dagmar could now see she was not in some random cave Annwyl had stumbled upon. They were in a furnished cave. A dragon's cave. She let out a sigh of relief and the horse lowered himself to the ground, allowing Dagmar to slip off. Not easy when she was desperately trying not to drop the sobbing babes in her arms.

"Why are they crying?"

The naked queen stood before her, blood covering most of her, and there seemed to be a fresh wound or two, but this ... this was the queen Dagmar had always heard of. Tall, powerfully built. Muscles any male warrior would envy and generous b.r.e.a.s.t.s any woman would love to have been gifted with. The only sign that showed Annwyl had once been with child was the horizontal scar across her lower abdomen. But it looked as if it had been there for years.

It seemed Annwyl had a new patron G.o.ddess who took much better care of her subjects than Rhydderch Hael, bringing Annwyl back to the way she was before the babes were born-at least physically.

Emotionally, the woman was a mess.

"They're crying because they're frightened," Dagmar explained, hoping the queen took her babes soon. Her arms were growing tired, their abnormally large size turning them into quite the burdens.

Annwyl looked at the Minotaur sword in her hands, then set it down. After that she walked around the large cavern, rubbing her hands together. Dagmar noticed a table and chairs, so she sat down.

The queen turned and faced her again. "I put the sword down, why are they still crying?"

"They're probably hungry."

"Then feed them."

Uh-oh.

"They're not mine to feed."

"Who do they belong to?"

This is just b.l.o.o.d.y wonderful!

Dagmar cleared her throat, and spoke carefully. "They're yours."

"I don't have children."

Dagmar was so tired, the patience she prided herself on quickly deserting her. "What do you remember?"

The queen thought for a moment, pointed at the horse. "I remember him."

"Do you remember his name?"

Annwyl frowned. "Black ... ie?"

Dagmar exhaled. "Do you remember your name?"

She chewed the inside of her mouth, stared up at the ceiling. After several minutes, the queen asked, "Do I need to?"

"Reason preserve me," Dagmar sighed. The babes cried louder and she looked down at them. "You need to settle down."

And when they did, she found herself more disturbed than she'd been by their crazed mother.

"See?" Annwyl said, smiling with relief. "They are yours."

"No, my lady, they are most definitely-"

"They couldn't be mine," she cut in quickly. "I'd make a horrible mother. Five minutes with me and they're already covered in blood."

"Yes, but-"

"I'll be back." Abruptly, the queen walked away down a dark tunnel Dagmar had no intention of following her into.

Gwenvael turned to his mother. "So she's gone 'round the bend then?"

"Well, she's clearly not sane."

"I'm going after her," Fearghus said.

Rhiannon grabbed her eldest son by the hair.

"Mother!"

"For once, don't be a prat, Fearghus. She doesn't even recognize you. Go near her now and she'll kill you."

"If that's true, then it's a good thing she's alone with the children," Briec stated dryly.

"And she has Dagmar." When they all looked at him, Gwenvael added, "She matters, too."

"They'll be fine," Izzy said, positive as always. "Annwyl just needs a little time to get back to her old self."

eibhear snorted. "And aren't you the one who said we should trust Rhydderch Hael and he'd never hurt her?"

Izzy's mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. "You blue haired-"

"That's it!" Talaith stood between the enormous blue dragon and her daughter. "Separate. Separate! You're both irritating me!" Talaith took a deep breath. "Fearghus, go to her, but approach her carefully. Think of it as battle fatigue. Go slowly, don't startle her, don't rush her. Take it slow and easy. Understand?"

"I understand. Now I just have to figure out where she's gone."

"We'll fly until we find her."

Talaith shook her head at Gwenvael's suggestion. "She's going to go where she feels safe."

"Even if she doesn't remember?"

"She knew to protect the babes. She knew her horse. Fearghus, she'd go where she feels safest. Where she's always felt safest."

Fearghus's smile was small, but there. "Dark Glen." He nodded, knowing he was right. "She'd go to Dark Glen. She'd go home."

Dagmar was asleep on the large bed she'd found in one of the caverns. She placed the babes down first on the fur, surrounding them with protective pillows in case she rolled over while she slept. Once done, she stretched out lengthwise on the bed and that was the last thing she remembered until she sensed someone near her.

Before opening her eyes, she went for the small dagger tucked into her girdle and sat up. But as she tried to focus on the man in front of her, the dagger slipped from her fingers and spun away.

Thankfully the human male was quick of hand and caught the blade before it slammed into his forehead. Squinting, she leaned in and winced. "Sorry, Fearghus."