The Blacksmith Queen Page 48
“Move! Down the stairs!” Hearn yanked the door open. He jerked back as a sword-wielding blacksmith came at him from the stairway.
“Emma, no!” Angus yelled. His wife immediately stopped when she saw him. “He’s a friend. Now go, go, go!”
Emma ran down the stairs, the centaurs following. Hearn still had his arm around Angus’s waist.
Archie moved in front of them. “This way!”
It took them little time to catch up to the children. That’s when the centaurs shifted back to their natural forms, lifting the screaming children and placing them on their backs.
Once the older ones realized they were being rescued and not massacred, they calmed the others, who were now just excited to be riding on the centaurs.
“So you really do have centaur friends,” Emma said, moving while simultaneously trying to stop the bleeding from Angus’s wounds.
“Told you. And Hearn’s not just a centaur either. He’s a chief.”
“Well, who knew you were so important.”
“You just never listen, woman.”
She chuckled a little before barking, “Hold.” Hearn stopped so she could break the ends of the arrows off. “We’ll leave the tips in for now. Go!”
Hearn helped Angus onto the back of the big stallion with the war hammer. “Hold on, old friend. Don’t let go.”
Angus grinned as he watched Hearn place his wife on his back. No, he wouldn’t let go. Not now. Now when he could finally tell his wife, “Told you so!”
“Let’s move!” Hearn called out. Then he motioned to Archie. “Come on, idiot.”
Archie snarled as he ran after them; Angus’s brother refusing to mount one of the centaurs. “Stop calling me that!”
* * *
Caid dropped several rabbits by the fire and looked around. “Where’s Keeley?”
“She went off that way.” Laila pointed toward a small group of trees. Much too small to be a forest, but it was near the lake they’d found a few hours earlier.
“She’s in a mood,” Gemma muttered while sharpening her steel weapons.
“Maybe because you kept starting slap fights with her all the way here.”
“She started it!”
“How old are you?” Caid wanted to know.
“Here.” Laila handed him a thick blanket with some dried meat, bread, and a bottle of ale. “Take this to Keeley. Make sure she eats.”
Caid started to walk off, but his sister briefly pulled him back to whisper in his ear, “Maybe if she spends the night away from her sister, we’ll all get some sleep.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Don’t keep her away on my account,” Gemma snapped, apparently hearing Laila’s words. “I can ignore the whiny bitch forever if I have to!” she yelled out toward the trees.
“She hasn’t said a word since we left elf territory,” Laila reminded her.
“It doesn’t matter. I can see her whining through her eyes!”
Quinn laughed at that bizarre statement and Gemma’s snarling at him to “Shut the fuck up!” did not help the matter.
Caid shifted to human and followed Keeley’s scent until he found her sitting with her back against a large tree.
He sat down next to her, spread the blanket in front of them, and put the food out.
“Here. You should eat.”
“I’m not sure I’m hungry,” she said, still continuing to stare off.
“Keeley . . . this wasn’t your fault.”
She shrugged, her gaze still locked on some far-off space. “I did unleash him, but I didn’t put him there. And I didn’t make him mad.”
“If you know that then why are you gazing despondently into the distance?”
“I’m not despondent, I’m thinking. It’s just something you said.”
“Before or after the dragon brought up that volcano?”
“Before. You said he was not a fire breather.”
“Yes. That’s right.”
“So there are others like that one? The dragon we faced today. But that breathe fire?”
“Well . . . not exactly like him. He’s kind of small.”
“What?”
“Based on what we’ve learned from our cousins, the Dark Plains centaurs, there are all kinds of dragons, in all kinds of very large sizes. From what I understand there are no truly small dragons. Just small for a dragon.”
“Tell me you’re joking.”
“The Dark Plains dragons are a well-organized, lethal, family-based group of giant beings with sharp tails and horns on their heads. The one we dealt with was a volcano dragon but there are others.”
“Others?”
“Some breathe fire. Some lightning. Some sand. I’ve also heard about acid—”
“Acid?”
“I believe those are rare, though.”
“Oh,” she said, closing her eyes. “How nice. And what else?”
“They have armies.”
“Not just one army but armies. As in plural?”
“Well, you need to understand that there are dragons all over that side of the world. And they don’t all get along. The sand dragons are ruled by a king in the Desert Lands. The fire breathers and volcano dragons are ruled by the Dragon Queen.”
“There’s a Dragon Queen?”
“Of course there’s a Dragon Queen. But there are also Northland dragons—”
“Northland dragons?”
“The Lightnings. They’re actually very interesting.”
Her gaze flickered over to him. “Are they?”
“Yes. At one time they lived in hordes.”
“Hordes? There are hordes of these things?”
“Uh-huh. Small, clannish groups made mostly of sons, nephews, and brothers of their leaders. Although I’ve heard that they now have one leader for all the Northland dragons but I have no idea who that is or what that title is. I just know it’s a male.”
“Fascinating.”
“What’s the matter?” he asked, pouring them each some ale in their travel cups. “I thought you’d find all this very interesting.”
“Interesting, yes. But how am I supposed to fight them?”
Shocked by Keeley’s response, Caid accidentally poured some ale onto the blanket. He quickly put the stopper in.
“Why in the world would you even think about fighting the dragons?”
Keeley stood and began pacing. “What if we have no choice?”
“Gods, you’re not planning a strike on them, are you? Tell me you’re not planning a strike.”
She spun around to face him, her eyes wide. “Why in the hells would you ask me that?”
Confused, he pointed out, “Because you specifically asked how you could fight them. You’d only have to fight them if you struck first.”
“Not necessarily.”
Still confused, he asked, “What are you talking about?”
“Beatrix already has an alliance with the elves.”
“Yes, Laila told me.”
“But not only that; she’s made deals with the Dowager Queen and Prince Marius. For all we know, she’s done the same with the Dark Plains dragons, allowing them to run roughshod over the Hill Lands.” Keeley scowled. “What is so funny?”
“That you’d think the dragons would need to run roughshod over anything. They could have come to our territories anytime they wanted over the centuries, but they haven’t bothered. Because they’re too busy fighting each other and the humans right in front of them. And none of that has changed in eons. I doubt it will change now. Even for your very ambitious little sister.”
“But she seems to have a way. With everyone.”
“Not with the dragons.”
“But how do you know—”
“Keeley . . . they eat humans.”
Keeley froze. “What?” she finally asked.
“They eat people. You saw what that dragon did to some of those elves.”
“He was fighting for his life.”
“No. If he was doing that, he would have just used his tail. Or one of his spells. He was a mage. He ate them because he was hungry. Humans, to the dragons, are nothing but two-legged cattle. They’re a staple of their diet. So unless your sister is willing to hand her power over to a force much more deadly than she is—and, based on what I’ve heard from others, even more insane than your uncle Archie—I doubt she’ll attempt to get the dragons on her side, much less manage to do so. You know, without becoming a scrumptious appetizer in the process.”
“So I have no reason to panic?”
“Not about that, no.”
* * *
“What does that mean?” Keeley demanded, not appreciating when Caid began laughing at her. Again.
“Can I make a suggestion?” he asked.
“Fine. Make a suggestion.”
“Relax. For the night. Please.”
Caid was right, of course. There was nothing she could do this night. And she’d had an exhausting and weird day. She might as well eat and get some sleep. She could panic about dragons and her sister and everything else in the morning.
Keeley sat down next to Caid, their shoulders touching. He handed her a piece of bread and she gratefully accepted it. She hadn’t realized until now how hungry she was.
“Those centaur travelers we met on the road . . .”
He nodded. “What about them?”
“They said Straton had attacked a town. Another town that sounds like mine.”
“He didn’t burn it down at least.”
“Yes, thankfully. But all those people trapped there now. I don’t even want to think about what’s happening to the women—”
“Then don’t. Don’t think about that right now.”
“You’re right, of course. It’s not like I can help at this moment.”