"Didn't like his tone, did I?"

"So you tore his arms off."

Caswyn's head lowered a bit, his black wings bristling. "Don't much like your tone either."

"Yeah, but you already tried to tear eibhear's arms off," Uther reminded him. "You were in a coma for weeks."

"It was more a deep rest."

eibhear rolled his eyes and said, "You all will come with me."

Uther's head snapped up. "Will your sisters be there?"

Imitating his eager tone, eibhear quickly replied, "They will! And so will my father!"

Uther's face fell. "Oh."

Reflective, Aidan stroked his chin while pounding his back claw into the head of the Spike lying in front of him. Again . . . still seemed unnecessary as that Spike was already quite dead. "How did your father not become M-runach? He seems ruthless enough."

"Oh, he is," eibhear agreed. "But he can take orders."

"Aaaaah," the others said.

"So if we go with you," Caswyn asked. "What do we do?"

eibhear shrugged. "It's Garbhn Isle. There'll be drink and pussy. What more do you need?" Garbhn Isle was the seat of power for the human queen of the Southlands, Annwyl the Bloody. Insane monarch and mate to eibhear's eldest brother Fearghus, Annwyl was adored and loathed in equal parts, but to eibhear she'd simply become one of his sisters.

"Nothing," Uther said. "But that makes me sad."

"But first we take care of the Spikes leader in the Northlands."

His squad groaned.

"What?"

"I'm tired of snow and ice," Caswyn complained. "I'm tired of shades of purple and white. I want to see grass again. And trees. Birds that aren't crows."

"We won't be in the Northlands long. Just long enough to do a little killing. You lot like killing. Remember?"

"I do remember. But you seem to have forgotten that the Northlanders hate you," Aidan reminded him.

"Not more than the Ice Landers do."

"Only because you haven't been there for the last decade. Trust me, if you had, they'd only hate you more."

"I want to see my sister Keita. As far as I know she's still with Ragnar in the Northlands."

"A little elegance among the barbarians." Aidan sighed. "I guess that's worth something."

"So finish killing this lot," eibhear said, gesturing to the Spikes trying to crawl away. He really had to work on that with his team. They disabled, sometimes tortured, then killed, but the disabling and torture were just time consuming. They needed to kill faster so they could move to the drinking and females quicker. Honestly, one would think they'd know that already. "Then we head out."

eibhear turned, saw a Spike fighting with one of the other squads. He pulled his sword and headed over to assist. Aidan caught up to him.

"Oy," his friend said.

"What?"

"You know what might be waiting for you back at Garbhn Isle, don't you?"

"The loving warmth of my mother, the admiration of my father, and the caring of my dear brothers?"

"Are you going to be serious about this?"

eibhear chuckled, then rammed his sword into the side of the Spike. It was an easier way to attack an Ice Land dragon since they had those bloody spikes going from the top of their heads, down their spines, to the tips of their tails. He twisted the blade while using his free claw to push the Ice Lander down by the side of his neck.

When the dragon took his last breath, eibhear pulled out his sword, nodded at his fellow squad leader, then faced his friend. "Yeah. I know what might be waiting for me."

"And?"

"And nothing. That was a long time ago . . . for a human. Besides, I apologized."

Aidan frowned. "When? You haven't seen her in nearly ten bloody years."

"Remember? I sent her a letter."

"Oh. The letter. Right." Aidan looked off. "Yeah. I remember. The letter."

"Although she never did answer me. Rude cow."

"Yeah. Rude."

"But I'm sure she's over it. There was a healthy amount of groveling in that letter. She likes groveling."

"I'm sure she does."

"So there's nothing to worry about." eibhear patted his suddenly quiet friend's shoulder. "We'll go. We'll spend some time with my kin. Then hit every pub between Garbhn Isle and the Western Mountains as we go to meet up with Angor and the other squads. It'll be a lovely holiday that we richly deserve."

Aidan finally looked at him. "But first the Northlands?"

"First the Northlands. Deal with the new Spikes leader for those poor Lightning bastards."

"Can we call the Northlanders that when we see them? I'm sure they'll just love it."

"Then I'll check in with Keita before we head south."

"Check in with Keita while still in the Northlands? Sure that's wise?"

"Come now," eibhear dismissed his friend's worry. "It's been ages. I'm sure Ragnar's forgiven me by now."

"Right." Aidan snorted. "I'm sure he has."

"We challenge you," the Spikes' leader had called out, bright white wings extending from his back, white spikes going from his head, down his spine, to the tip of his tail, white and silver hair braided up like a horse's mane touching the ground. "Let's decide this now and end it."

So it had been agreed. The Spike's champion against theirs. But there were rumors coming in from Ragnar's spies that all this was merely a fancy ruse. The young leader's idea to get the Northlanders to think the war was over and head home, so that this leader's troops and another Spike's legion could come over territorial lines and into the Northlands unmolested. Because unlike the Spikes, honor was all to the Northland dragons.

And it was true. Honor was all, but not stupidity. Ragnar had already sent word to his contacts in the Ice Lands to stop the second army from crossing into their territory by any means necessary. Knowing that was being handled allowed him to enjoy the champion contest currently going on in front of him.

Ragnar studied the dragon his champion was facing. He was bigger than anything Ragnar had ever seen, easily the size of two castles. Around his neck he wore a necklace made of smaller dragons' heads and his scales had hardened into an armor of its own, the sound of his heavy breathing rattling the nearby trees. Ragnar wasn't even sure the dragon could fly anymore. All that weight combined with the stiffness of his scales . . .

"Gods," Ragnar's cousin Meinhard whispered next to him. "It's a cannibal."

"A what?" Ragnar's brother, Vigholf, asked.

"A cannibal dragon," Ragnar clarified. "He eats his own kind. That's what makes him look like that."

The cannibal thrust his battle lance, aiming for their champion's shoulder. There was great power behind that move. Enough to tear open a hole in a small mountain. The lance flashed in the early morning suns as the champion caught that lance in his claw, held it.

Tugging, the cannibal tried to pry it free. He became frustrated and roared. He held out his other claw and someone tossed him a sword. He caught it, swung for the champion's neck. But the claw that held the sword was caught and held.

Strength battled strength as each male pushed back against the other, but neither budged. Yet the cannibal had no patience; he leaned in, opening his maw. The champion didn't wait for whatever the cannibal had planned. He unleashed his own flame first, the stream hitting deep inside the cannibal's throat, choking him. The cannibal released his weapons, and stumbled back.

The champion dropped the weapons and went for his own. A battle axe and a warhammer. He wielded both at the same time, swinging on the cannibal before he had a chance to snap back. The hammer hit him first, ramming into his head, knocking him to one side. The axe followed, attacking the same side, connecting with his shoulder. The blow knocked the cannibal to the ground, trapping several dragons beneath him.

The champion flew over to him, landing hard, and battered at him with both axe and hammer, hitting him mostly in the face and neck and chest until the cannibal roared his rage and rose, knocking the champion off him. He dragged himself up, the champion scrambling back, trying to move out of his way.

Taking in a deep breath, the cannibal again opened his mouth wide, about to unleash a weapon that had nothing to do with steel.

"Shields!" Vigholf yelled out, and they all brought their shields up or stepped in behind a comrade's.

Ragnar watched the cannibal release neither lightning nor flame nor water nor any of the other weapons that every dragon had within it. But acid. The only other dragon with acid as its natural weapon was the Immortal dragon. The Immortals had been given their weapon by the gods, but it was said that those who ate their own were cursed with acid as their weapon. Stomach acid.

The acid sprayed out, shields sizzling as the hard steel was struck, a large ball of it hurtling toward the champion.

The champion grabbed a shield, lifting it to protect his face and chest, the power of the acid shoving him back, burning through the metal. He dropped the shield, raised his gaze, and charged at the cannibal again. But he suddenly pulled back as another dragon, one covered in the pelts of dead animals, such as Ice Landers were known to wear, dropped between their champion and the Spike's.

Ragnar looked between his brother and cousin, but they seemed lost as well.

"The trap?" Vigholf asked.

If it was, it was a tragically premature trap. Ragnar still had a full army out here, ready to fight.

The cannibal opened his mouth, ready to unleash more acid, but the mysterious dragon dressed as a barbarian Ice Lander suddenly turned and struck. He rammed his lance into the open mouth of the cannibal, halting his ability to unleash his acid-at least for the moment.

The cannibal was battered to the ground, the stranger using only his giant forearms covered in leather gauntlets. He then raised an oversized steel axe up and over his head in one fluid movement, bringing it down with a mighty force into the cannibal's giant neck, hacking through those thick scales. And he kept hacking until he'd separated head from spine.

The stranger picked up the head by its hair and held it high for all of them to see, slowly turning once so they could get a good look. Then he pitched it to the ground at the claws of the remaining Spikes, chuckling when the head bounced up and hit the Spike's leader in the snout.

The stranger turned from the Spikes and faced Ragnar and his kin. Talons reached up and pulled the hood of the fur cloak from his head so that braided blue hair spilled out, pieces of leather and animal bone weaved throughout the strands. Just like the Ice Landers wore.

"Maybe this Ice Lander wants to immigrate," Vigholf suggested. "Not that I blame him. . . . Are those bones in his hair on purpose?"

"I think so. Perhaps it's a fashion thing. Like Keita and her dresses."

"Maybe the Ice Landers make you wear bones in your hair."

The Ice Lander walked over to Ragnar and stopped. "Oy."

Surprised by his familiar tone, Ragnar frowned, but he quickly caught hold of Meinhard's arm to stop his cousin from pulling his battle axe and chopping off the Ice Lander's head for rudeness to the Dragonlord Chief.

"Yes?" Ragnar asked.

"Where's my sister?"

Ragnar frowned again. "How the hells would I know?"

The Ice Lander blinked. "What did she do? Leave you?" He shrugged. "Well . . . you did last longer than most."

Completely confused and annoyed, Ragnar released his cousin's arm so that Meinhard could take the whelp's head and they could finish this bloody battle with the bloody Spikes and get on with their bloody lives! But a female voice behind them stopped Meinhard from striking.

"eibhear?"

Ragnar glanced back at Rhona the Fearless, Vigholf's female, as she moved through the crowd of soldiers, removing the helmet she'd made herself as their lead blacksmith. Most blacksmiths didn't involve themselves in battles, but Rhona was such a damn good soldier, Ragnar didn't complain. Vigholf certainly didn't either-he knew better.

"eibhear's here?" Vigholf asked. "Where?"

She pointed at the Ice Lander. "Right there."

Shocked to his core, Ragnar looked first at his brother, then at his cousin . . . then at the boy. The useless, ridiculous, love-sick boy that they'd summarily dismissed, briefly respected, then had no longer been able to tolerate until the blue dragon's father had him assigned to some other unit within the Dragon Queen's army.

Mouth hanging open, Vigholf shook his head, and Meinhard muttered, "It can't be."

"eibhear?" Ragnar asked again.

"Yeah. My sister?" he pushed.

"What?"

"Keita. Remember her? Gods, how long ago did she leave you?" he snapped, annoying Ragnar again. Rude whelp!

"She hasn't left me, you worthless little sh-"

"Then where is she?"

Vigholf, his mouth still hanging open, pointed toward the mountains where they'd left Keita with a battalion of soldiers to protect her.

"Good." eibhear looked behind him. "M-runachs-with me." He walked into the crowd of Northland soldiers, patting Rhona's shoulder as he passed. Ragnar watched him for a long while until another Fire Breather dressed in the fashion of the Ice Lands stood in front of him. This one held out a blood-covered white dragon head to him. "You want this?"

Without thinking, Ragnar took the head of the one-time Spikes leader, wondering when the young leader had been killed, since less than a minute ago he'd been quite alive.