I am Dragon (Dragon Fires Rising Book 2) by Marc Secchia (famous ebook reader TXT) 📕

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“Nasty little liar,” he growled, pretending to swat her behind.

“Dragon, Aria will be yours, you’ll see.”

She had the strangest way about her, sometimes. The air of a Mage, some called it. Was this a childish faith that life always served up good outcomes and happy endings to tales, or something more? Could her unique gifts encompass foresight?

This fearful hope lurked uppermost in his mind as they winged out over the endless forests of Amboraine. The drizzle began within ten minutes of their departure. Naturally.

Seizing her opportunity, Yarimda set about teaching them a fifteen-verse song that claimed to describe every important detail of the culture of her native Kingdom of Hamirythe. He learned about a boy whose nose was pinched off by a crab, how to make a seaweed trumpet, the belief in a type of mermaid called a sea siren that lured sailors off to a terrible fate, and the custom of ‘skulling,’ which involved displaying the preserved skulls of one’s deceased relatives upon the mantelpiece. This last one was even true. One commonly dug up one’s relatives seven years after the burial, she informed them.

Yardi shuddered. “A nation of grave robbers?”

“Isn’t it marvellous to understand one’s heritage?” the old lady tittered.

“Rattle those family skeletons,” Azania said.

With an unimpressed hiss, Chalice said, “That one would even touch the bones of one’s ancestors is unthinkable.”

“I have to agree,” Yarimda said. “People believe it’s a way of honouring the ancestors, but I always found it macabre to be eating dinner with the toothy grin and hollow eye sockets of Great-Aunt so-and-so staring down at me. Let the dead lie in peace, say I.”

Too true. It was rumoured that the Talon Clan lined their lairs with the bones of their ancestors.

Flying two three-hour stints, they reached the location carefully shared with them by the King’s cartographer; a short, deep ravine that abutted a huge mountainous outcropping locally called ‘The Anvil’ for its flat top. Beyond, they would find the Rillimis River, effectively the northern border of the realm of Amboraine. Lord Varlan’s impregnable castle lay nestled within this ravine.

Landing carefully out of sight, Dragon and Chalice searched for and located a well-concealed campsite where they might wait for nightfall. Training with her, he passed on a few lessons which Juggernaut had taught him, and learned a new vertical tail whip technique in return. He recalled seeing Aria doing this one, a particular undulation of the hindquarters that generated considerable centrifugal force. Naturally, the slightest inclination of his thoughts toward the lethal whipping action of certain hindquarters, notably those of cobalt colouration, instantly wrecked his concentration.

Occupational hazard.

Nightfall came early and drizzly. Exactly what the wicked Dragon had ordered off the menu.

“I’m going with you,” Yardi stated, when asked.

“Why?” Dragon said.

“Someone has to get inside the gatehouses and spike the mechanisms of the portcullises. That’s my job. I’m a blacksmith and armourer. Me and gears …” She flexed her shoulders meaningfully, and when that did not change his expression, patted the large hammer he noticed had made its way into her equipment. “My job isn’t all about shaping and crafting, Dragon. Sometimes, a good old-fashioned round of demolition is called for.”

He displayed twenty fangs. “Have I told you how much I like your attitude? So refreshing. Plus, I see our wardrobe has also undergone a little modification – do I spy actual trousers?”

“If a Princess can flaunt it, so can I. These are utilitarian, hard-wearing and surprisingly comfortable.”

A blush belied her words, however.

“Kingdoms have toppled over less,” Yarimda put in dryly.

“You approved, grandmother.”

“It’s all the rage in man-snatching equipment, my dear. Lockable metal cages, wild panthers and snug trousers are all a girl needs –”

“Grandmother! You are positively wicked.”

“Oh, live a little. Now, you children run along and play with the nice castle.”

“The previously unconquerable –”

Yarimda quelled Dragon with a look. “I am speaking, young fire breather! I plan to relax right here. I’ve a fire and this lovely wineskin of red someone appears to have snuck into my belongings. Fresh from the King’s personal cellar, I believe. Can’t imagine how it might have got there.” Chuckling at her granddaughter’s scandalised expression, she added, “I asked, of course. King Harilan wanted to give me a gift, but I don’t need anything, not where I’m going. I suggested a suitable vintage might ease the chill of these damp Amboraine nights. Young Harilan has commendable taste, I must confess.”

Yardi folded her arms. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you?”

“Not in ninety-four years.”

“You’re an inspiration.”

“Are you lot still here? I was planning to enjoy the peace and quiet, at least until the screams, crashing and burning begin.”

“How’s about we go plan our pillaging?” Dragon said heartily.

“What an excellent idea,” Yarimda grumbled. “Have fun.”

Armed and dangerous, they took a slightly roundabout route, flying a mile to the south before scaling the heights and doubling back. Shortly, they knelt or perched upon the lip of the ravine, gazing down at the lamps and fires flickering in the darkness.

“Anyone can see why he chose this spot,” Chalice growled. “So, those will be the outer fortifications, the middle wall is here beneath us, and there’s one last set beside the castle itself, I make it. Those look … challenging.”

“Aye, but the middle gates could be dealt with from the inside – nothing too scary there,” Yardi commented. “Big crossbar, big Dragon.”

“You speak my language,” he purred.

“What if we attack the outer and inner walls simultaneously?” Azania suggested. “Dragon on the outer gates and us three girls see if we can sneak in and deal with the inner ones? Can’t imagine they would shut the portcullis as a matter of course. Not unless directly threatened.”

Chalice narrowed her eyes. “I see guards on both sides of the battlements plus