A Tale Of Two Dragons

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“Oy! Addolgar!” they yelled into his human face. “Oyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy! You awake?”

Idiots. Every one of his brothers and sisters were utter idiots. Even these two—Ghleanna, his older sister; and Bercelak, his younger brother—who he believed to be the smartest of his kin, were still . . . idiots.

“Maybe he’s dead then,” Bercelak suggested.

“Nah. I think he’s breathing. He just sleeps like the dead, is all.”

An elbow, probably Ghleanna’s, rammed across his jaw. “Addolgar!” she screamed. “You awake?”

His jaw throbbing, Addolgar knew he couldn’t keep ignoring his siblings or he risked losing part of his face.

He slowly opened his eyes. “What?”

“See?” Ghleanna said to Bercelak. “He’s not dead.”

“Such a relief. Mum would have had a fit if he’d turned up dead.”

“Your concern overwhelms me, brother.” Addolgar cracked his neck. “So what do you want?”

His brother and sister, also in their human forms, stood tall, hands on hips, staring down at him. The two of them looked the most alike of their siblings. Black hair, black eyes, rude natures. Bercelak had the nastiest attitude, but really he was only the most focused. He had big plans. He didn’t just want to be a warrior; he wanted to lead the Queen’s Army. It was a lofty goal, especially for one of the low-born Cadwaladr Clan, but if any of them could do it, it would be Bercelak.

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