The Danger with Allies

by Meagan Hurst

  She was tempted to lock him out, but managed to keep the channel of communication open. Crilyne wasn’t above bringing things out in the open to get back at her after all. What are they discussing?

  The children, you, Kitra, and who gets to go with you.

  I’m not going.

  You are. What you must decide is which one of us will accompany you.

  She pulled out of the current conversation to join the other one. Since it was starting to go south, that was a good thing.

  “Nivaradros is coming with me,” she remarked. The argument ended in mid-yell as everyone turned to look at her, even Crilyne. “I need you here, Crilyne. You have experience with betrayals on this level and the Mithane could use your input if I am to be ordered away.” She fixed the three of them with a dark look before shifting Ashenira to her other arm. Balancing the Alantaion on her hip, Z pressed her lips together before turning to the Mithane. “You’re needed here. As much as I would like your help, we just got your kingdom back. It will reflect badly upon you when you send me off with part of your army to help the others, and—let’s not forget—when you announce you are making me your heir.”

  Crilyne looked surprised. “You are going through with that?” he inquired of the Mithane. “Even with the Dragon.”

  “Since the Dragon managed to defend my kingdom without slaughtering everyone in his path, and then entertained fifteen children on his own for a while. Is there a reason I shouldn’t trust Z to be able to keep him in line? Don’t answer that.” The Mithane glanced at Ashenira and sighed. “You may have to keep her with you,” he warned. “We found her mother,” he added with a look that told Z it was better if she didn’t ask. She would ask, but only when she managed to ditch the being attached to her. “I will take care of the rest of them until we can reunite them with their families.”

  The Mithane stepped forward and attempted to convince the fourteen other small beings to stop hiding behind Nivaradros. It was astonishing to comprehend; Z could see the Mithane and Crilyne were at a loss for words. Who would have thought the Dragon could made such an impression on the young? In the end, the Mithane had to summon ten other Alantaions—all Alantaions who had followed the Mithane into exile—to help herd the small beings away. “When you get back,” the Mithane told her as he passed, “I would like to speak with you in private.”

  To assess her state of mind. Great. She managed a nod and glanced at Crilyne. He was seething. He didn’t like being left behind and he didn’t like being, as he saw it, second to Nivaradros. To her surprise, when Nivaradros joined her Crilyne offered the Dragon the nod of an equal.

  “Take care of her please,” Crilyne directed at Nivaradros, though she still heard it. “It seems to be your…specialty.” The tone spoke of his anger, but Crilyne didn’t act on it.

  “I always make the attempt, where she lets me,” Nivaradros replied before sighing and holding out his arm to take Ashenira from her. To Z’s relief, the small being went to him. He balanced her on his left hip as though he was practiced at this motion. “But should I be unable to, I will consider seeking outside help.” He inclined his head to the Shade. “I’ve found selective hearing does wonders for extended exposure to Alantaions,” he offered with a dark smile.

  “Selective hearing does wonders in many cases.”

  Deciding to get the two apart before things went bad, Z offered the Shade her hand. Crilyne took it with a raised brow. “Thank you for helping Kitra,” she said. “And please stay away from Midestol for a few years.”

  Crilyne smiled. His eyes danced as he inclined his head. “I would ask you to do the same, but you cannot. I shall behave for the moment, but if I deem it necessary, I will contact him again.”

  Z shrugged but held her tongue as she began to summon a portal. She could feel Arriandie cringe at the influx of external magic, but the Arriandin didn’t make an appearance. As this meant his trust in her was restored, Z let out a sigh of relief. Glancing at the one small being they were stuck with, Z noticed the being’s eyes were wide with fear.

  “Give it here, Nivaradros,” she held out her hands for the girl.

  Nivaradros surrendered Ashenira with far too much pleasure, and Z took a step toward the portal. As she did so, Ashenira let out a cry of fear. Gritting her teeth and thinking curses, Z hid her anger. “It’s alright,” she told the girl. “It’s my portal, I control where it goes.” Before the girl would make another sound, Z stepped through the portal and found herself in the market of Tyresani.

  Ashenira was whimpering, and when Z made the attempt to put her down, the Alantaion almost strangled her. “Alright, alright,” Z muttered. “You win.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the portal as Nivaradros emerged, and then nodded as the portal dispersed. The unique thing about portals was how they formed to their summoner and how they reflected their creator’s power, thought process, and style. Some portals took days to cross through; hers took seconds. She was able to comprehend—and more importantly dismiss—the laws of the worlds and travel between them. Suspending time and distance was nothing to her.

  “You are admiring magic—you are feeling okay, right?” Nivaradros teased as the market began to fill. Rangers began to emerge from their houses and shops. Most didn’t bat an eye at the Dragon, but everyone stared at Ashenira.

  “Don’t ask, she won’t let anyone else but Nivaradros or I touch her,” Z said as Ashenira showed interest in being put down. Relieved, Z set her down and then smiled as three young Rangers pushed their way through their parents to reach the Alantaion before them.

  “Kitra is waiting,” a sharp, but familiar voice said from behind them.

  Z turned to face the woman who had been waiting for her arrival, and she cringed at the look in Aliassya’s eyes. Like her and Kitra, Aliassya was on the Council; unlike Kitra and her though, it was seldom Aliassya was called out into battles. She was one of the council members who was in the middle, title wise, and therefore she was often left to oversee things that were going on at home. Only once in the Ranger history had all council members been on the field, and the price of that battle had been the lives of all of them. The Rangers had never allowed their entire council to take to the field again.

  “We’ll watch out for the child,” one of the gathered Rangers assured Z with a smile. “She will come to no harm here.”

  “Everything that attempts to harm her, on the other hand, will,” Nivaradros murmured as he joined her. He nodded to Aliassya and snorted when the woman looked through him.

  “Follow,” Aliassya demanded before turning and leading the way not to Kitra’s house, but to the closest thing the Rangers had to a morgue. Z began to tense. Slowing her pace, she waited until Aliassya stopped to speak.

  “I was under the impression Kitra was still alive,” she said as Nivaradros frowned.

  “She’s conscious,” Aliassya confirmed. “But due to her injuries, she told us we would be wiser to move her here. You can thank the Shade for her arrival here at all. He allegedly found her wandering out by Myriskie, but no one knows why she would have been there, and so far she is either unable or unwilling to speak with us.”

  Z suspected she knew the reason Kitra had been by Myriskie. If she was correct, Kitra had been trying to reach Sabaias. Damn relationships to hell, she did not want to have to deal with Sabaias if the Nialtian decided to grieve.

  “I’ll check to see if Midestol has a camp out in that area.” As he was running the kingdom—with a puppet—it wasn’t as far-fetched an idea as it could have been.

  Aliassya scowled but didn’t offer her usual retort. Instead, she led the way with a pace that screamed of anger about something Z had done, or over her immortality. Z kept silent and kept an eye out for traps. In theory Rangers were above assassinating each other; in practice they liked to test one another’s responses to threats. Plus, Aliassya was bound to be one of a group that was angry with her. It was obvious Aliassya blamed her for Kitra’s condition—and therefore death
—and Z had nothing to offer to counter that stance. If Midestol had targeted Kitra, it must have been to hurt Z, since Kitra was the closest thing she had to family.

  Silence was their currency for the walk. Z followed Aliassya into the large stone dwelling, down three flights of stairs, across four halls, and then through a door on the right. Once the door was opened, Z felt a blast of the smell of blood, the stench that comes before death, and magic. Aliassya shied back; Z stepped into the room without pause. Kitra was lying on a makeshift bed that put her level with Z’s hip. Blankets—stained red with blood—covered her, but Z saw the barest rise and fall of the woman’s chest. Her mentor, her second Guardian, was somehow still alive.

  She was not blind to the fact she was walking into a situation where everyone but Aliassya had been involved in with her own injuries. Since her injuries were always a touchy subject, Z was irritated she’d make the connection. Stepping up beside Kitra, she picked up the Ranger’s remaining hand while her other hand pulled back the soaked blanket that covered her wounds. She wanted to see the damage. The minute her hand was in contact with Kitra’s blood though—even though it was just a blanket—her magic began to insist that she do something. Healing Shalion had set off her talent, but she would not heal now; something told her she couldn’t.

  “Don’t heal me, Z,” Kitra’s voice escaped her body by sheer will alone. Z squeezed the hand she held to let the woman know she understood, but Kitra moved and drew Z’s attention to her eyes; they were feverish, and Z doubted her vision was clear. “He said he would make you come,” Kitra mumbled.

  “Kitra, stop speaking except to voice the relevant facts,” Z ordered. “Don’t waste your strength. Crilyne said you wanted to see me…?” She finished peeling the blankets away from Kitra’s wounds and felt her jaw tighten in anger. Kitra shouldn’t have been alive. Ranger training and long-term exposure to her had probably been all that kept Kitra going. Midestol had been in a mood when he had done this.

  Besides the chop job on Kitra’s left arm, Midestol had shredded flesh off Kitra’s stomach, back, and had started shedding her legs. Bruising was still visible because it had gone deep into the muscle, but the amount of blood Kitra had lost, and was still losing, made it clear someone was intervening in her death. She would have to speak with Crilyne later about experimenting on humans while they were still alive. Kitra didn’t have her lack of pain senses; the pain alone had to be unbearable. So much blood—so many wounds. Midestol had been livid and had decided to take it out on her.

  Crilyne had said Midestol had told Kitra her debt was paid in full by this and Z heavily disagreed; Midestol had gone into overkill. He wanted to see what she would do in retaliation, that much she understood. Glancing at Kitra’s face, she sighed and clamped down harder on her magic. She was furious, hurt, and holding onto her control by a thread.

  “What do you need me to do, Kit?” she asked as she continued to hold her emotions at bay.

  “Alone,” Kitra murmured as her eyelids closed and her eyes flickered erratically behind them.

  “Aliassya, Nivaradros—Out!” she barked. “Now!” she hissed when neither of them moved.

  Nivaradros hesitated, but he had heard Kitra and, as it was obvious Kitra was not in any condition to harm her, he nodded. As he passed Aliassya he grabbed her arm in a gentle but firm grip.

  “Come,” he advised, but his grip tightened as the Ranger tried to yank her arm free. “I will pick you up and carry you out of here if I have to; they need time alone. We have our orders—I hate it as much as you do.” Aliassya began to sputter and Nivaradros sighed. Picking her up as he had threatened, he gave Z an exasperated look as he carried Aliassya from the room. Aliassya, however, didn’t go quietly; she stabbed Nivaradros in the back of his shoulder.

  Knowing she owed him for his intervention, Z turned her attention back to Kitra as the door closed. “Kit?” she called before reaching out and touching the woman’s clammy forehead. “It’s just us…” she began before cursing in Nialtian as she backed away from Kitra. Magic was awakening and building within Kitra. Summoning her own power in a manner that was both defensive and offensive, she counted the seconds of silence that occurred before the spell Midestol had placed on Kitra exploded.

  Kitra died before the spell had manifested completely—that Z both knew and felt. Launching herself around the room as the spell sought to kill her, Z kept checking the strength of her shields. Even with her defenses up and in place, she did not trust that spell. It reeked of other-world magic, and it also had an under touch of other beingness, hinting that an upper power had become involved. A being like her mysterious visitor. The magic began to hammer on her defenses and Z grimaced. Pulling more power, she tightened up her defenses and returned to where Kitra had been.

  She couldn’t figure out how she was going to explain how she had missed the danger, and why the door had suddenly locked and sealed. Z wasn’t sure if her magic or Midestol’s magic had sealed the door, but she knew that she should have seen the trap lain on Kitra and prevented it. Midestol had played a game here—one she should have foreseen and hadn’t. Kitra had been the bait; Z had been the fish. The fact that she wasn’t dead or wounded was the only thing she had over Midestol.

  Perhaps remorse or grief would come later. So, perhaps, would anger. Now, however, Z worked on figuring out the spell and trying to decide how involved Crilyne was. The Shade was a danger—if he wanted to be one—and she now began to question his actions. Was he so furious at her that he would change sides and work with Midestol for a time? Or had he not known he had sent her into harm’s way? She didn’t want to lose him as an advisor, but if he was going to attempt to kill her, she would have to do without his insight and his aid. She hated that thought, but she moved through it. Her training allowed for her to do nothing less.

  Her training and her inborn magically amplified talents. Sighing as she returned to cursing their existence, Z continued to finish her examination of the spell, what little remained of Kitra, and the room. It was safe-ish. Pressing her lips together with anger, she was about to turn away and head out when a light flash of power came from the far corner of the room—then vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.

  She hated flickering magic. Waiting for it to send an alert again, Z began to follow the light touch of power with caution—cursing Kitra the whole time. It was meant for her, whatever it was. The amount of magic used to send off its beacon was probably only detectable to her. Possibly to Nivaradros, but Z doubted it. Especially since Kitra had hidden it so damn well.

  Twenty minutes of searching allowed her to find it. It was, as she had suspected, a fragmented spell to which Kitra had attached a large event. It was incredible, and it gave Z the only positive bit of information she had been handed throughout this whole thing. Sitting cross legged on the floor with her back against the wall—unspoken rule number one: do not ever, ever do anything magical where results are unknown until grounded, back against something preferred—she reached out to the captured piece of recollection Kitra had left for her.

  And she grimaced as her world did, in fact, shift. Kitra had thrown a lot of power into this. In Kitra’s condition as she created it, her ability to control her magic had been compromised and Z was at the mercy of the way Kitra’s power had tried to fulfill Kitra’s request. As the image swam into view before her, Z found she was in a room she knew well, and it wasn’t anywhere near the Nialtian lands. Midestol’s personal torture chamber was very, very unique, but that wasn’t what made this recollection important. No, it was the fact that Midestol wasn’t the sole person in the room—the Shade was with him. Closing her eyes didn’t stop the connection to the image, and it didn’t stop the voices from starting to speak. Focusing on the words, Z managed to step back from the rage that filled her at Crilyne’s betrayal.

  “You seem irrationally fond of the Dragon,” Crilyne accused Midestol as he glanced at Kitra. “Shouldn’t she be silenced?”

  “Afraid she will tell
my granddaughter that you arranged this meeting between her and me?” Midestol asked with a cold smile. “And no, I am not going to silence her, she is fulfilling a purpose and I require her to be alive.”

  “And you are not worried about the fallout that will come from this?”

  “The fallout is necessary, and as this is not a meeting that involved Ksiria, I have hopes that she will at least consider keeping our personal ties and our professional ties separate. We are, after all, fighting a war—despite our blood connection—and we are on opposite sides.” He glanced at Kitra for a moment and frowned. “Unless, Crilyne, you are not telling me the truth about who this is.”

  “You didn’t answer me about the Dragon,” Crilyne accused as Midestol turned away from Kitra, but he didn’t answer the question. It raised suspicions in Z’s mind. Was there a chance Midestol would have spared Kitra had he known who she was?

  “I didn’t,” Midestol agreed. “Because you know the answer. Yes, I happen to like Nivaradros. Not only is he powerful and extremely intelligent, he also seems to be very, very good for Ksiria. You worked extensively with her for over a decade and obtained little to no improvement in her…difficulties. Plus, Nivaradros managed to convince her to speak with me; you wouldn’t even tell me she existed.”

  “She didn’t want you to know, and with the way her other only living family member treated her, I thought it was better not to press her. And we are not allies, Midestol, you are assisting me for a time, but this is not going to be a long-term relationship.”

  “And yet the Dragon accomplished something I thought was impossible in a rather short amount of time. He is remarkably like me when he so chooses; he is hiding a great deal from her as well. Unlike you though, he is not willing to actively work with me. He will offer me information he thinks I want—so far he has not been wrong—and he convinces Ksiria to visit me on the odd occasion.”

  “And how are those meetings going so far?”