“I’m going to go see what they got me,” Braith told him, tossing off the fur covering. “I’ll bring you some supper.”
Addolgar sat up, stretching and yawning.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m getting up.” He shook his head before she could argue that. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere. I just can’t lie here anymore. Besides”—he smiled—“I want to see what they got you too.”
“What is he doing up and about?” Owena demanded.
Braith, with Addolgar’s arm over her shoulder so he could hop on his good leg, led the dragon to the big table in the middle of the hall chamber.
“Chair or table?” she asked him.
“Table.”
She got him on the table and waited until he was comfortably situated before facing her aunt.
“What did you ask?”
“I asked what he was doing up?”
“Don’t worry. He’s not planning to make a run for it.”
“He better not,” Owena warned.
“So what did you get me from town?” Braith asked.
“Go on, Delyth. Show your cousin what you picked out for her.”
Delyth, with her hands behind her back, walked up to Braith and, after a lengthy pause, brought both her arms around. She held out something cloth-covered and long. Braith pulled back the cloth and blinked.
“Oh,” she said, staring at the steel and leather-covered hilt. “A sword. How nice.”
“It’s a good weight,” Delyth replied. “A short sword to start you out.”
“Right.” Braith took the weapon from her cousin’s outstretched hands. She hefted it a bit, held it up. “Lovely. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Braith turned and showed Addolgar the weapon.
He stared at it for a long moment before he asked, “That’s what you got her?”
“What does that mean?” Delyth snapped.
“That’s a bloody toothpick.”
Delyth marched around Braith until she faced Addolgar. “It’s not for when she’s dragon. It’s for when she’s human.”
“As human she can break dwarven steel into pieces.” He reached over and took the sword from Braith’s hands. “It’s a beautiful weapon. One my sister Ghleanna would adore. But this isn’t for Braith.”
“Then what is the right weapon for Braith, Lord Smarty Claws?”
Addolgar, his brow going up at the challenge from Delyth, slipped off the table Braith had just put him on and hopped back to their chamber.
“Addolgar!”
“I’m fine!”
Owena shook her head. “That leg will never heal if he keeps running around on it.”
“I know.”
A few seconds later, Addolgar returned with his oversized carrying bag. He hopped over to the table, tossed the bag on it, then sat down again. Once comfortable, he reached into his bag and pulled out a large-headed hammer.
“A hammer?” Delyth asked, hands on hips. “A sword, Cadwaladr, is elegant. A beautiful extension of a warrior’s arm. But you want to give my royal-born cousin a thick, heavy, clumsy weapon like a hammer?”
Addolgar studied the weapon in his big hand, looked over at Braith, and threw it at her.
She caught it, easily. Swung it once, twice, then lifted it with both hands. It felt right in her hands. Comfortable. The way, she assumed, a weapon was supposed to feel.
Braith grinned at Addolgar. A grin he returned.
Owena nodded. “He’s right. She’s a hammer dragon.”
Disgusted, Delyth glowered at both Braith and Addolgar. “You know,” she finally said, “you two certainly are perfect together. You’re both bloody know-it-alls.”
Addolgar sat on the table between Owena, Aledwen, and Crystin. Together, they watched and gave pointers to Braith while she became acquainted with his hammer.
Wait. That came out wrong.
Crystin poked Addolgar in the ribs and he had to grit his teeth from crying out. It seemed the Penarddun “poke” was equivalent to the Cadwaladr head-butt after a night of heavy drinking.
“Yes?” he asked Crystin, once he could do it without crying.
“That niece of ours,” she said low, so only he and the other aunts could hear her, “she’s a nice lass, isn’t she?”
Addolgar thought on that for a moment. He didn’t know if he’d call Braith “nice.” Bunnies were nice. Braith was more . . . lusty! Yes. She was lusty. And beautiful. And adorable. And—
“You don’t think she’s nice?” Crystin demanded and that’s when he realized Braith’s aunts had been waiting for a response. When one hadn’t come, they’d taken that as a bad thing.
“No,” he replied honestly. “I don’t think she’s nice. She’s anything but nice. And when you get to know her again, you’ll also realize she’s not nice.” He looked over the three She-dragons in human form glowering at him. That’s when he added, “Because nice is boring. And that’s the last thing your niece is. So, no, my ladies, I don’t think she’s nice at all.”
“You know,” Braith said, unaware of the other conversations going on around her, “I think with some training, I could wield two of these at the same time. Oh!” She looked at Addolgar, her eyes wide with excitement. “Or an ax.”
With a shrug, he reached into his bag and pulled out his ax. He tossed it at her, but Braith wasn’t ready for it and she instinctively ducked. The weapon collided with her cousin Ffraid, who’d been standing behind her. Thankfully, the She-dragon was hit with the flat of the blade so it just knocked her on her pretty little ass.
Everyone stopped and stared at poor Ffraid stretched out on the ground, the ax resting on her chest.
Owena leaned over so she could look around Braith. She gazed down at her inert daughter. “You all right, Ffraid?” she called out.
Ffraid raised a hand but her only answer was a groan.
Owena leaned back, nodded. “She’ll be fine.”
Before Addolgar could dispute that—he had thrown that ax rather hard, knowing quite well that Braith could handle the power of it—Aledwen suddenly jumped off the table, her hand to her forehead.
“Sister?” Crystin asked. “What is it?”
“It’s Heledd. She comes this way.” She suddenly tore off her fur cloak. “She is not alone,” she announced to the room.
Addolgar didn’t really know what that meant, but based on the way everyone suddenly moved with purpose, he knew it couldn’t be good.
It seemed to be a practiced thing. Several of the older offspring hustled the hatchlings, who were still too young to shift to human, to some other place inside the vast cave while the aunts and older cousins and sisters, retrieved weapons and shields.
Braith still held his hammer. “What’s going on?” she asked.
Aledwen, now shifted to her dragon form, faced her niece. “Your father sent Lightnings after Heledd and her cousins.”
“How many?” Addolgar demanded, horrified any Southland male would set Lightnings upon the females of their kind.
Aledwen blinked, then answered, “She thinks . . . nearly a horde’s worth.”
Braith let out a breath and, in that instant, Addolgar saw her resolve. He knew what she would do.
“Braith, no.”
“You stay here,” she told him. “You’re not fit enough to fight.”
“Please,” he said, grabbing Braith’s arm. “Let me call to my kin.”
“We don’t have time, Addolgar,” Crystin said. She looked at her niece. “But you should wait here, Braith.”
“I won’t.”
“Braith . . . this isn’t your fault.”
“Perhaps. But you’re my kin. I’m coming with you.”
Crystin looked at her sisters and they all nodded. Not the reaction Addolgar had been hoping for.
While the aunts and cousins began to head out of the chamber, Addolgar shifted to his dragon form, as did Braith.