How to Drive a Dragon Crazy (Dragon Kin #6)(128)

“That’s because I’m not.”

“What do you want?” Éibhear asked, unable to keep the tiredness out of his voice.

“My mate, he sometimes forgets that balance is necessary in this world. Without it, I don’t exist. But Chramnesind doesn’t want balance. It’s of no use to him, you see, because he wants it to all belong to him.”

“He’ll bring you war and death.”

“Only for a short time. A few decades perhaps. Maybe a century or two. But to me . . . centuries are like seconds in a short day. So I need you, Éibhear the Blue, to stop what’s to happen. What’s already begun.”

“You mean rescue Vateria.”

“Exactly. Because if she dies here, in this spot of great power, at the hands of Chramnesind’s acolytes . . . there will be dark times indeed. Her soul is a deep well of hatred. Combine that hatred with what they actually plan to do to her . . . what they’ll have her become—and none of you will survive. Not human. Not dragon. Not your Izzy. Vateria, here and now, cannot die. For if she dies here, she will be reborn—and then gods help you all.”

“So how do I stop this?”

“Do what you do best. The Mì-runach are my greatest creation, the idea given to your forefathers millennia ago.”

“We’ll still have to get past the witches.”

“Let Aidan do the talking.” She threw a ridiculously large hammer at Éibhear’s feet, the sound of it clanging against the marble stone steps, ricocheting through the quiet of the sleeping city. “You do the hammering.” She walked around them. “And good luck to you all.”

Éibhear picked up the hammer. It was heavy even for him, but he rested it on his shoulder anyway.

“You know, Éibhear,” Aidan said as they walked up the steps to the Nolwenn temple, “I’m starting to see why you don’t go home very often.”

“I tried to tell you. . . .”

Vateria turned to run, but a tentacle shot out and wrapped around her back leg, yanking her to her stomach. She screeched and dug her talons into the stone floor. Smoke came from where the tentacle held her leg, a sizzling sound and the smell of burning scales causing Izzy to shudder.

The cultists moved forward, all of them chanting, calling out to their god. While they did, Izzy stepped back. And, while their attention was focused away from her, she did something she’d only done willingly once before when she’d been very drunk and Brannie had dared her in front of all her men.

Gritting her teeth, Izzy dislocated both her shoulders. Something much easier to do once she’d had them broken in a battle. Yet easier didn’t mean any less agonizing. She bit back a cry of pain, and maneuvered her arms down and her legs over her bound wrists. Then she brought her arms up.

She panted, working hard to control her pain. Then, making sure she still had no one’s attention, Izzy moved back to the wall behind her and faced it. Taking another deep breath, she rammed first one shoulder, then the other against the hard rock, snapping both joints into place.

“I have really got to stop doing that,” she muttered.

She turned away from the wall and faced one of the Sand dragons. Without a word, he raised his sword and brought it down. Izzy rolled forward, out of the way of the blade, but as she came out of the roll, she brought her bound arms up. The weapon slashed through her bonds but, thankfully, only scraped the inside of one palm.

Shaking off the rope, she got to her feet just as the dragon’s tail came at her face. She caught hold of it and the dragon picked her up. Something she’d realized long ago that all dragons did when something was hanging from their tail. She took the short trip until she could land on the dragon’s back. He tried to shake her off, but she caught hold of his hair and held on. He spun in a circle, his tail coming at her again. She dodged first one way, then the other, never losing her grip on his hair.

Frustrated, he began using his sword as well, trying to swipe her off. When the sword came at her a third time, she waited until it was near her legs before she jumped to the side and rammed her foot down on the blade, pinning it to the dragon’s back.

He roared in anger and released the weapon, using his tail again to try to stop her. Most likely assuming she couldn’t lift the sword. But Izzy had been playing with dragon swords since the night she’d stolen Éibhear’s from his room when she was a teenager. She grabbed the leather-bound grip, raised the extremely heavy weapon, and swung it once. The blade, sharp, cut through the end of the dragon’s tail. Izzy dropped the sword, no longer needing it, and caught the tail tip before it hit the ground. Taking firm hold of it, she charged the rest of the way up the dragon’s back, ignoring his screams of pain and the blood flying everywhere from his whipping tail, until she was at his neck.

Izzy dropped down, her legs going around his shoulders. She leaned over to grab one of the scales, but then remembered that the Sand dragons’ scales were different from all the others.

Cursing her stupidity, she scrambled back up, kicked the bleeding tail that was now trying to grab her, and charged up the rest of the dragon’s neck and right to the top of his head. She dropped to her knees, raised the tail tip over her head and brought it down into the dragon’s eye.

He screamed in pain and sand exploded out of his snout and mouth. He went back on his haunches, forearms flailing out.