The Danger with Allies

by Meagan Hurst

  “Not yet,” the Dragon replied without looking at her. “I know this is probably putting you at the end of your patience, but believe me, Z, you cannot engage this particular enemy without thinking things through even more than you usually do.”

  He glanced up at her and sighed. Her irritation wasn’t as hidden as she thought. “Let me put it this way, I would not go up against this current being yet where I in your…what is the word?”

  “Shoes?”

  “That’s it,” the Dragon answered as she scowled at him. “Oh please, testing your temper gives me a small amount of pleasure—you do the same to me for the same reason.” When she continued to glower at him, Nivaradros laughed and shook his head. He traced the stone wall beside him for a moment in a seemingly idle manner, though Z knew better. The Dragon was testing his magic.

  “I thought we weren’t going to piss off Midestol’s nameless ally.”

  Nivaradros shrugged, but he let his hand drop from the wall. “I want to speak in private with your grandfather,” he admitted.

  Z raised a brow. “So you two can plan your world domination?”

  “Something like that. I’ll see if he would be willing to let you go wander around Arriandie while we speak.”

  It was clear she wasn’t hiding her frustration at being locked in a room well. Before she could reply, Nivaradros was gone and she was left to her own devices. Hoping the Dragon didn’t make an error while speaking with Midestol, she made the effort to arm herself as best she could and to change into cleaner clothing. So far there had been no deliveries of small pieces of clothing that managed to cover nothing. Midestol had offered her only nice, full sets of clothing. She wondered if it was due to Nivaradros’s presence, or if parading his granddaughter around in front of his men like meat had lost its appeal. Come to think of it, that had stopped right when he had discovered her lineage—perhaps their blood ties were the reason behind it.

  A short time later there was a light tap on her door. It opened before she could answer it with words, and Midestol entered the room looking as though he was trying to figure out what to say and couldn’t come up with something he wouldn’t have to discard fast. It was fascinating to watch. He seemed to realize his unease was intriguing, and he scowled at her before taking a seat in the only chair in the room.

  “Your Dragon has presented me with an offer I am uncertain I can pass up without regretting it later,” he told her with caution.

  She stared at him in confusion before narrowing her eyes. “What offer?” she asked.

  Midestol grimaced, sighed, stood, and then approached. “I apologize for this,” he admitted. “But the Dragon has offered me a chance to end things before they become awkward. Please do not resist, that will endanger us both.”

  Eyes burning with anger she couldn’t grasp, Midestol drew his sword, but his actions were far more calculated than she expected. Holding his eyes with her own furious ones as his sword rose in a quick, but graceful motion, she kept her eyes on his face as his gaze seemed to turn to where he intended to strike. Summoning Kyi’rinn, she almost brought it up to defend herself, but found herself pausing instead as Midestol’s sword fell.

  She felt the force of the blow but, as always, that was all. The blow landed just above her left hip, and that leg buckled for a second before she forced herself to stand—but her act of defiance didn’t last long. A numbness started at the site of the wound and worked its way through her system until not only did she end up on the floor, but she couldn’t do anything more than move her head. And even that ability began to fade. Paralyzed. He had put something on his sword to paralyze her.

  “Easy.” Midestol spoke in a way that she assumed was meant to be soothing. He sheathed his sword without cleaning it, but as the sword was in the process of absorbing her blood, it wasn’t required. He knelt beside her and checked her wound with surprising care. “I’m not going to do any further harm,” he promised. “But I needed you injured for this. I’m sorry, Zimliya. The effects of the toxin will wear off, but if any part of this was false, it would be detected. As I am not yet willing to claim you publicly as family, I can’t be seen to be uncharacteristically kind to you.” At that moment a familiar roar filled the halls, and Z tried to struggle as Midestol picked her up.

  “Nivaradros! What have you done?!” she demanded of him as he began to carry her to the door.

  “I swear on my magic to you, Zimliya, he is alright,” Midestol said in a soft tone. “He is giving me a graceful way out of the mess this kingdom is in. You and I will have to come up with what you will pay me for what I am about to offer you, but now is not the time.” He frowned as she continued to try to fight her body for control. “Relax, please, I do not need you injuring yourself further. Your wound is already bound to get me in trouble.”

  Suspicion warred with curiosity, and Z conceded to give in to her predicament since Midestol didn’t appear to be after her death. He had taken care to ensure her wound would not be fatal. She kept track of their movements as best she could, but Midestol used a servant’s exit from the castle, and Z found herself flirting with consciousness by the time they made it outside.

  “Where are we going?” she murmured.

  “To your outcasts’ camp, though their outcast status will be very short lived.” Midestol glanced down at her and grimaced. “I expected you to block that strike, Zimliya; you’re bleeding out too fast. Try to stay conscious. I don’t want to have to kill half of your allies because you happen to be taking a nap when I need you most.”

  “Next time warn me if you want me to act a certain way—I can at least consider it then,” she countered stiffly as she forced herself to stay awake. “You probably hit one of the larger veins, I can’t tell because you decided to paralyze me.”

  “You have a habit of deciding to thwart my plans at the oddest of times. Since I am already on the fence over this, I didn’t need any extra help. Unfortunately, the poison will only work on you once, since you have the thoroughly irritating habit of somehow making yourself immune to almost everything. At least it worked once, that’s better than my usual odds.”

  She managed a smile because once again she was having a conversation with Midestol that shouldn’t have been possible, considering their positions in the world. She couldn’t even blame it on their newly revealed—to him anyway—blood relationship; they’d had moments of oddness like this before.

  “I promise this time I will try not to interfere,” she assured him as her eyes closed again.

  “Eyes open, Zimliya!” he barked.

  Sighing, she complied but gave him a black look. “You are not the face I would like to stare at for the next couple of hours,” she informed him. “Forgive me for finding the insides of my eyelids to be a much more pleasant view.” Closing her eyes again, she expected him to strike her. To her surprise, he once again showed restraint.

  “I do not understand why the Dragon puts up with you,” he growled.

  She didn’t answer because she had no answer to give him. She still didn’t understand it herself. “If I drift off, just use magic around me,” she murmured as she reminded her body that she was going to stay conscious. “I’ll wake right up.”

  “And probably attack me,” her grandfather muttered, but he didn’t bother her again, and she was able to let her mind drift with better results than she’d had for a while.

  And in the end, Midestol didn’t have to use magic to call her back to the present. A familiar voice did. “Well this has to be a first. Have you come to gloat personally?” the Mithane demanded, but the tone was a front. Z felt the pain the immortal was struggling to keep suppressed from Midestol.

  “Not gloat, no,” Midestol said, and Z felt the astonishment of the Alantaion hit the air like an electric current. “She needs your aid, Mithane. Will you deny her that aid because she is of my blood, and I am the one bringing her to you?”

  “Where is Nivaradros?” the Mithane asked instead of answering. But, to Z, that in itse
lf was an answer.

  “He is cleaning up my mess in your castle,” Midestol replied at length. “As part of the arrangement he managed to convince me to accept.”

  “And killing Zimliya?” the Mithane snapped.

  “She is not dead—as you well know, though I will concede that this is likely to be difficult for your healing talents despite her inability to feel pain. Do you by chance know how she accomplished it?”

  “Yes and no, she won’t tell any of us the whole story,” the Alantaion healer and ruler informed Midestol. “What do you want? I came, as you requested, alone, but my patience is at its end. If you plan on murdering me, I surely hope you planned well for the fallout that the deaths of myself and Zimliya will bring.”

  “I did not, because ideally no one dies here tonight,” Midestol said in a tone that warned Z he was at the end of his temper as well. “I am returning her to you, Alantaion, to heal. Bringing her to you uninjured would have been preferred, but I have a reputation to keep, and I am not—as I explained to her already—interested in revealing our relationship just yet. Nivaradros and I discussed our current dilemma. My Alantaion puppet was disappointing me, so I allowed the Dragon to remove him. As we speak, Nivaradros is busy taking back your castle in apparent retaliation for my disappearance with Zimliya.”

  She felt herself being transferred and managed to open her eyes. “I was told I was supposed to block his strike, so it wasn’t as…damaging,” she murmured.

  “You have to change the rules of everything you get involved in, don’t you?” the Mithane chided, but his smile was hard to ignore. “I will tend to her. To what do I owe this unexpected and unprecedented visit?”

  “She is my granddaughter, and I intend to treat her like one to the best of my abilities for a while.” She heard Midestol move as if to leave. “I will not hand over any other kingdom so freely, do not assume this is a soft-hearted move on my part.”

  He was gone before either of them could reply, and the Mithane knelt to place her on the ground before she could speak to him. “Do I even want to know what has been going on?” he murmured to her. “Don’t answer that. In fact, I would prefer you didn’t answer anything I asked for a while.”

  Laughing at the thought of him not wanting to know, Z clamped down on her magic and her instincts as she felt magic brush over her frame. “I still dislike this,” she told him through clenched teeth.

  “If you ever inform me that you do, in fact, like magic of any kind I am going to have to ask the Dragon to kill you,” the Mithane replied. “Since it will be a sign that you have taken leave of your senses.”

  She smiled before she grimaced and tried to sit up. The Mithane once again proved he didn’t care about the whole status difference between them as he grabbed her upper arm with care and helped her to her feet. Her weapons stayed in their sheaths, but it took effort on her part. Brushing his hands away as soon as she could, she took a step back and exhaled before gathering her thoughts.

  “What did you make of Midestol?” she wanted to know.

  “You mean the fact he injured you on purpose so he would have an excuse—as poor as it was—to meet with me? I believe I am unsure of his motives. He has never before sought a peaceful interaction with Alantaions, and, for him, this meeting was very peaceful.” Brown Alantaion eyes met hers, and she detected thoughtfulness instead of the quiet calm she expected. Holding up a hand the Mithane sighed. “Alright, Zimliya, alright. What I make of your grandfather and the fact that he brought you here—I will overlook the injury he inflicted on you this time—is that it is clear you are not the only one suffering from uncertainty when it comes to your newly revealed blood ties.”

  She waited. Since she had at least perfected that immortal talent, the Mithane grimaced and continued. “I have not looked, Zimliya, and I can offer you little more. What I saw today concerns me because it implies the rules have and have not changed. Worse, it indicates they may continue to dance a small circle around what is and what could be. With your current state of mind—oh don’t give me that look, you know you’re not yourself—I am less than pleased at the thought of Midestol also being potentially different from what he was in the past.”

  His thoughts matched hers, and that told her just how wrong things were. Closing her eyes, she shook herself mentally and then sighed as she opened them again. Damn immortal vision! She didn’t care if she could see the veins on the leaves a good fifty feet away without even trying. She really didn’t. Sensing the Mithane’s unease, she managed a crooked smile in an attempt to suppress his fears.

  “Thinking too much,” she said before he could.

  “Ah,” he replied. “Well try not to strain yourself.”

  She gave him a dark look and began to pace. “I don’t know when it’s safe to head back to Arriandie,” she admitted. Glancing around the clearing as a thought occurred to her, Z whirled on the Mithane in a sudden flash of rage. “Why are you out here all alone?!” she demanded. “What kind of a stupid idea is that?”

  “Midestol requested the meeting be limited to me only. Since he has never contacted me, and he implied it had something to do with you, I decided to play along. I am not defenseless, Z.” And he was back to using her preferred name. Since it meant he was at ease with what had just transpired—and she wasn’t—she decided to overlook his tone.

  “No, but meeting Midestol even with your defenses is almost open suicide. You shouldn’t have come,” she added.

  “Actually, this is precisely where I should be. Zimliya—Z,” the Mithane sighed and then glanced away from her for a second. An image, a memory, began to grow on the air between them. “Do you remember this?” he asked.

  She did. Out of the ashes of her anger came the memory the Mithane was bringing to life before her now. She remembered that ‘inn.’ Because it was within the Alantaion lands, it wasn’t the typical definition of the word, for there was no charge to stay there, but at the same time it offered everything else that type of establishment would in the human lands. Z had kept to herself there, and though the Alantaions had no doubt found her to be a bit odd, they had nevertheless conceded to send her meals up to her rooms when they realized she was not going to come down for meals.

  But that was not the only thing that had been odd about her. Sometimes she still wondered why the Alantaions as a whole were so friendly to her—with a few exceptions that had popped up over the years. She watched as Shevieck struggled to make her sit at the table with the Mithane. A smile touched the corners of her lips. She could almost hear his arguments for why meeting his father was acceptable, especially meeting his father in such an informal manner. She hadn’t been about to have any of it though, so instead of speaking up and messing up, Z had employed Alantaion manners to get her out of the mess; she had ignored the Mithane.

  And for some reason he still liked her. She had never managed to figure out why, and it was going to annoy her if she dwelled on it. Closing the memory down before it continued further, she met the Mithane’s eyes. “Yes?” she demanded as exhaustion settled on her.

  “When Midestol makes his move, if it is soon, will you be able to respond? Your interactions have softened your edge to him.”

  “Thank you, Captain Obvious,” she sighed. “I have…no answer for that.” Pressing her lips together, she drew Kyi’rinn and eyed the blade as it flashed with a hint of its inner power. “I will not just lie down and die, but I cannot assure you I would fight to my max. It is disturbingly comforting to have him as a grandfather and I crave the attention. Here I thought I was beyond caring,” she added.

  “I am glad that part of you didn’t vanish,” the Mithane inserted. “If it had…you wouldn’t have survived this far. You just need to learn to balance yourself. You have managed to do it twice before; I am confident you will do it again.”

  “It gets harder each time,” she countered, but it was a weak attempt and she knew he knew it. She slid the sword back into its sheath as she turned away from him. “I believe th
e Dragon made an error.”

  “He may well have, but with your immortality—which you still refuse to accept—it was probably beneficial for you to have to deal with this at this time.”

  “Not if we all end up dead because of it,” Z pointed out as she spun back around and drew Kyi’rinn once more as she moved forward. Her hearing was far too good; it was another three minutes before their visitors arrived.

  “Zimliya…?” one of them greeted, eyeing Kyi’rinn with concern.

  “Kiptision,” Z replied with a nod as she once again returned Kyi’rinn to its resting place. “How soon can everyone be ready to move out?”

  Kiptision blinked and glanced at the Mithane. The Mithane refused to acknowledge the glance, causing the Alantaion soldier to grimace. “Within the hour if we push the pace.”

  It was slower than she wanted. She assumed Nivaradros was done killing Alantaions and was possibly hunting anything else he could find that was moving in Arriandie. Still, if she didn’t want to alarm everyone who had joined the Alantaions to retake Arriandri, and she couldn’t demand that they employ their immortal abilities to break camp in five minutes—literally, she had seen it done once. Having seen the events that had led up to and followed it, she never wanted a repeat of that event, even though she knew it would come again, and not just one time.

  “See to it that it is done,” she replied. “I will return to camp when you are finished.”

  Kiptision nodded, but once again glanced at his ruler. Again he received no guidance. Bowing to her first—Z fought the urge to cringe—he bowed to the Mithane second. He summoned the small group of fighters who had come with him, and they silently slid back into their surroundings. Only when she was certain they were gone and well out of an Alantaion’s hearing range did she speak again.