Free How to Drive a Dragon Crazy by G. A. Aiken Page A

she had the rest of the legions surrounding the caves and coming in from the forest.
    A wise move since ogres were not to be trusted.
    “Ogres aren’t easy to kill,” Aidan remarked. “And the real leader will be much more of a challenge. So this could take some time.”
    Éibhear placed his hands on his hips. “Well, that’s not going to work for me.”

Chapter 7
    The flint axe came down hard, smashing another human’s head. The Leader felt nothing as he did it. These humans were nothing to him other than more skin to make into his kilts, more teeth to give his favorite breeder, and more blood to make his ale.
    He’d brought his troops to this human village looking for food, breeders, and slaves. They’d done well this hunting season, cutting through this swath of countryside, leaving a trail of blood, death, and misery behind. That’s what he did best. What he enjoyed doing every season.
    But then those human troops had shown up and he’d moved inside this cave, sending out his fighters to engage the humans. When that grew boring, he’d sent out one of the stupider fighters to pretend to be him. That one would die and then, when the human soldiers thought the worst of it was over, he’d reemerge and finish them. A good plan, even had a human to help because they’d given him some gold. Gold only meant something to humans; it meant nothing to ogres. Only meat and blood and death meant anything to them. Only battle and war meant anything to the mighty ogres.
    His plan had been working well, too, but then that traitor was found out and the human soldiers had tracked the rest of his troops to these caves.
    But he had no intention of dying now. Not at the hands of these weak humans with their fragile skin, tiny size, and fancy armor and weapons. True warriors didn’t need all that armor to cover their body. True warriors fought without it.
    “Blood Leader!”
    The Leader looked up to see a human female walking toward him. She’d used his proper title in his language to call his attention. She wore little armor but had many fancy weapons. She was tall for a female but brown of skin. Strange. He’d never seen that before. But she was sturdy, strong. She’d make a good breeder.
    Too bad he’d have to kill her instead.
    The Leader lifted his axe and challenged with a nod of his head. The human strode toward him, short sword brandished; then she was charging him flat out.
    Lip curling, the Leader swung his flint axe. The woman, fast considering her size, ducked his weapon and came charging at him again. She made no sound as she charged—no warning battle cry, no scream of rage. She simply ran at him with her short sword at the ready.
    He swung the axe again, but the woman leaped up, her foot colliding with his chest. She shoved herself off and spun, bringing the sword around and down against his neck. The woman was surprisingly strong, her sword cutting past thick green skin and taut, layered muscle, burying itself there.
    The Leader staggered, his blood spurting from the wound. But he wasn’t dead. Not yet. Not for quite a while. It took much effort to kill his kind, but he sensed she already knew that. Knew this wouldn’t be an easy fight. Ahhhh. A true challenge. How nice.
    He lifted his mighty flint axe. This axe was only wielded by the leader of the tribes and he was the leader. The strongest, the meanest. He’d made sure everyone knew that when he’d eaten his firstborn whole. It had proved his point and had been no great loss. It had been a female after all. Just another breeder.
    How could killing this human be any harder?
    His axe was coming down again, aimed for the human woman’s head, but as he nearly reached her, she raised her arm, caught hold of his weapon’s handle and held it.
    She held it. Held him. Growling, he tried to pull the axe from her, but she held it. He knew he hadn’t weakened that much. Not enough that this human female could stop him from holding on to his weapon. The weapon