Light My Fire. G.A. Aiken

Чтение книги онлайн.

      Chapter Six

      Celyn thought he could make a run for it when the discussion was moved to the war room, Morfyd and Brastias now included in the discussion, but Bercelak shoved Celyn and Brannie inside with the rest of them, “You two should probably hear this.”

      Gods, Celyn couldn’t get out of this. And he kept trying! It wasn’t like he wasn’t trying!

      “I had the most brilliant idea today,” Rhiannon announced as she unrolled one of the large maps on the big desk at the front of the room. “I’ve been thinking about alliances a lot lately.”

      “Perhaps my father should be here for this,” Celyn suggested.

      “He’s already on his way, but let’s get started now.”

      “I can see if he’s arrived,” Celyn said, turning toward the door. But his uncle caught him by the front of his chain-mail shirt and spun him back around. “Stay.”

      After he was back in position, staring at a stupid map, his sister leaned over and whispered, “Sit, doggie. Good boy,” which prompted Celyn to snarl and hit her with a small fireball right in her human face.

      “Bastard!” she yelped before punching him in the arm. Celyn punched her back.

      But before things could get out of hand, Bercelak growled, “Leave off and listen! Both of you!”

      “Thank you, my love,” Rhiannon said before turning back to the map. “Now as Annwyl’s little visit with Priestess Abertha has taught us, the real danger these days is coming from Annaig Valley and that Duke Salebiri. His territory is protected by the Western Mountains and Quintilian Provinces on one side and the Outerplains on the other. Now here”—she pointed at the map—“on the eastern side of the Conchobar Mountains, we have complete access to this portion of the Outerplains so that we can come and go into the Northlands. But on the western side of those mountains, we are not allowed access due to tribal rule, which leaves Salebiri and Annaig Valley relatively safe from an attack from our human armies.”

      “The only way into Annaig Valley from the Southlands is through the pass that cuts through Conchobar Mountains.” Annwyl shook her head. “The pass is too small to get an army through with any speed, which would allow Salebiri’s men to pick us off one by one as we reach the end.”

      “Yes, I see that. And, of course, we could send my Dragonwarriors to attack by going over the mountains except that the Outerplains dragons control all the mountains in that region. And they’ll protect those mountains from us no matter what, which might cut down on a good number of my troops reaching Annaig Valley successfully. Something I’d like to avoid doing, if we can.”

      “We can pass over the Western Mountains, which is next to Annaig Valley on the left,” Fearghus suggested.

      “Except that Gaius Domitus is still battling his kin for complete control over the Quintilian Provinces. If we go over those mountains, we may have only to deal with the Rebel King and his troops or we may have to deal with one of his idiot cousins. Don’t get me wrong,” Rhiannon quickly added, “I’m not ruling that out as an option. But I’d like to have something a little more in our favor. Especially since we’ll still have the same problem with the Western Mountains that we have with the Conchobar: tribal horsemen. Only the Western Mountain horsemen really and truly hate Annwyl.”

      “They burn an effigy of you every new season to celebrate the end of the dark nights,” Briec pointed out, which got a little smile from Annwyl.

      “Then what are you suggesting?” Dagmar asked.

      Rhiannon again pointed at the map. “There are two passes through those mountains. One goes directly into Annaig Valley and the other goes into the Outerplains—”

      “And right into tribal territory. Again, Rhiannon, that second pass is just as narrow as the first and—”

      “We need an alliance with those tribes.”

      Annwyl shook her head. “No.”

      “Why not?”

      “They’re slavers. You know my feeling on slavers.”

      “The Riders of the Western Mountains are slavers. I’m talking about the Riders of the Outerplains. The Daughters of the Steppes. And they don’t sell slaves.”

      “But they do raid and destroy towns and cities that won’t pay them their ‘taxes’ as they like to call it,” Fearghus reminded her. “Mum, they’re a nightmare.”

      “And they hate us,” Annwyl added. “All of us. Not just me. They think Southlanders are worthless and corrupt. They won’t have anything to do with us.”

      “Yes, but—”

      “My father tried to arrange an alliance with their leaders and they sent his emissary back, riding on his horse, but when he got close we realized that not only was he dead, but his body had been cut into three distinct pieces.” Annwyl shook her head. “How they got his body to stay up on that horse until it reached my father, I’ve never figured out. And I’ve tried.”

      “Yes, yes, I know all that. But then when I was thinking about it today, I remembered that the Steppes Riders had recently sent one of their own to kill me!”

      The best part of that statement, Celyn realized, was how happy and proud Rhiannon looked when she said it. Her obliviousness was what made Celyn’s job so very wonderful.

      “Wait . . . what? What?” Bercelak sputtered. “What are you saying to me?”

      “Oh, don’t get so upset, Bercelak.”

      “Someone was sent to kill you and no one told me? Me?”

      “Perhaps no one told you because you get kind of hysterical?” Gwenvael asked. But when his father turned those black eyes on him, the gold dragon picked up Brannie and held her in front of his body like a shield.

      “Really?” Brannie asked her cousin. “I mean . . . really?”

      “Gwenvael, put her down,” Rhiannon ordered. “And Bercelak, stop huffing and puffing. It was not a big issue at all.”

      “How could it not be? They sent someone here to kill you.”

      “Not really. The poor thing was kind of sad and pathetic. I just couldn’t have her executed. She broke my heart.”

      Her cold, dead heart, Brannie joked inside Celyn’s head, forcing him to bite his tongue so he didn’t laugh out loud. It was a gift dragons had. The ability to talk to siblings or a parent using only their minds. It was a gift that Celyn often appreciated. More than once he’d called his kin to his side when he’d needed them most.

      “I don’t care how pathetic and sad she was,” Bercelak СКАЧАТЬ