by Meagan Hurst
“On the plus side, it does mean you are likely to be able to discuss this with the Mithane without the fear of him taking his Alantaions to war on your behalf.”
“It also means there is a high chance of him just staring at me.” Z glanced over her shoulder at Ryedrin. “You’re slacking,” she pointed out.
“I am also the only mortal in the group; take it easy on me,” Ryedrin countered as he nevertheless increased his pace. He caught up with her and Nivaradros before fixing the Dragon with a challenging look. “If you hurt her, you do realize you will have to watch your back for the rest of your life, right?”
“Oh yes. So far, I have been threatened by the Shades, the Alantaions, the Ryelentions, the Syallibions, the Dragons, the Dralations, and—because I don’t feel like listing the rest—every other kingdom or group save the Tezéracians. Why wouldn’t the Rangers threaten me as well? And, for the record, your threat is late; Kitra delivered it the second she found out I was interested in Zimliya. Also, no offense, I was more concerned about an attack from her than I am an attack from you. Since she is now deceased, I no longer have any concern at all with the Rangers. Especially after today. I have their de la Nepioa, their sole remaining Council member. They will not make a move against me out of concern that something might happen to her. Even if there are threads of doubt about her loyalty circulating, they would not be so foolish as to throw away the only being who can save them if the world does fall into the war that has been on the horizon for decades.”
Z was pleased to see Ryedrin looked chastised by the Dragon’s words. Then again, he had threatened a Dragon and that Dragon had handled the threat as though a small being had run up telling him he was dead while throwing a dandelion at him.
“Would you like to follow up on your threat with a strike, Ryedrin?” she asked him with a cutting smile. “Or may we proceed?”
“You are such a killjoy sometimes,” Nivaradros told her in an undertone. “He was just starting to show a little hint of being fun.”
“Yes, well, someone has to keep an eye out for threats,” she pointed out as she nodded toward a group of approaching riders. From this distance it was clear to her eyes—and she was sure Nivaradros’s as well—that the riders worked for Midestol. “Ryedrin, incoming from the south. Seventeen. I’d be willing to guess they work for Midestol’s middle level of the army, so expect magic as much as steel.”
“Never a dull moment traveling with you,” her former student sighed. “You should work on not gaining anymore enemies for a while. Otherwise you won’t have enough time in a day to deal with all of them and they will just pile up like cheap irritations.”
“I don’t mind sharing,” Z murmured as she glanced at Nivaradros. “Do you mind sharing?”
“Your enemies? Not at all. Gives me something useful to do after all.” Nivaradros stood with ease as the riders—riding something that Z was unfamiliar with—encircled them.
“Zimliya?” one of them called as he looked over the group of three.
“Is that a question or a statement?” Ryedrin wanted to know.
“Or a command?” Z chimed in.
“Or a request?” Nivaradros finished as he crossed his arms.
The person who had spoken up lost the small amount of confidence he had started with. Staring at them all with dismay, he appeared to forget how to speak. Z considered taking pity on him but found that her sympathy was in very short stock. Instead she watched him in silence while he struggled to figure out what to do next. He had asked a question and received three questions—from three different beings—in reply. It was a bad time to be new on Midestol’s forces. As the guy looked over his shoulder, Z sighed and stepped forward while drawing Kyi’rinn. Slicing though the girth strap on his creature she watched as he toppled sideways to the ground.
“First mistake,” she began as she sheathed Kyi’rinn and strolled toward him, “is not keeping your eyes on the person or persons you have surrounded, in theory. Second mistake is not having a clear plan. Third mistake is being stupid enough to pick me as a target. Fourth mistake is not knowing who I am. Fifth mistake is not knowing what I look like. Your final mistake? You decided you wanted to be the idiot to annoy me tonight. What does Midestol want?”
The warrior—and Z was debating whether or not to downgrade him to courier—crawled away from her as she approached. “He wants…he wants…”
“To see you,” someone else inserted. “He has information he wishes to pass to you.”
“Tell him I’m busy, and if the information is about Crilyne I am already well apprised of the situation. Likewise tell him that trying to make himself look better by trading information on Crilyne does not raise him in my estimation at all.”
“And if you’d like not to tell him,” Nivaradros added, with a smile that would have concerned Z if she didn’t know him. “We can aid you there as well.” He stepped forward and his smile grew as the courier scurried out of his way.
“Let me give you some advice,” Ryedrin chimed in. “Though there are only three of us, you won’t win any fight against us. Your wisest decision would be to turn around and leave. Possibly the second wisest thing would be to not tell Midestol you found us at all.” Ryedrin glanced at Z and she found herself nodding.
His smile darkened as he stepped forward to join her and the Dragon. “If you need help changing your mind,” he began as he slid his sword free of its sheath. “We would be happy to assist. Just let us know soon so we can either be on our way or start shortening your numbers.”
The silence was loud. Z chuckled and glanced at the man she had un-creatured. “Would you like some assistance?” she asked as she offered him her hand. He stared at it in astonishment and then nodded. He grabbed her hand and she helped him to stand. “I’d take his advice and don’t tell Midestol you saw us. It’s far better for you if you never saw me.”
The man nodded and glanced at Nivaradros with a puzzled expression. The Dragon sighed. “Dragon, she’s human, but immortal, and he’s just the average human Ranger.”
“Though I am a full-fledged Warrior,” Ryedrin said with a glare at the Dragon.
Z shook her head and helped the young man get back on his creature—minus the saddle—and then offered him another smile. “Thanks for stopping by.”
Nivaradros waited until after the group had ridden off before staring at her. His restraint surprised her. “That has to be the strangest meeting I have ever gone through with you. We might have to try doing that again next time.”
“It won’t always go like that. They must be new, and not at all fit to be working under Midestol. I wish I had had the time to really speak with them. I would have seen if I could at least convince the leader to change sides.” She tilted her head to the left. “Decent attention span for his age and his lack of training, though I would have limited him to being a Mage or a Scholar if I could have flipped him to our side. He just doesn’t have the personality to be a fighter.”
“And you do?” Ryedrin asked.
“More than he does,” Z replied. “And I was born to battle, edged by negative events and situations outside of my control. I am much, much better suited to this lifestyle than he is.”
“Enough. We’ve managed to buy some time, but I would assume Midestol will have more patrols looking for you, so unless you do wish to see your grandfather I suggest we continue onto our destination.” Nivaradros glanced at the sky and grimaced. “It’s going to rain in about an hour. Do we push through or find shelter?”
“It’s Zimliya,” Ryedrin remarked in a pained tone as she began to move forward. “We always push through.”
Sometimes she wished the weather wasn’t so dicey to play with. Four hours into a storm that could have leveled a poorly built house, Z only knew they were still headed in the right direction because her senses told her they were. Even her immortal vision wouldn’t let her see through rain that was so thick she couldn’t register one drop from another—Ryedrin had informed her sourly th
at she was doing much better than he was; he considered the storm to be something akin to jumping into the ocean over and over while somehow never leaving it in the first place.
It was not a mild rain—it was something akin to a monsoon in the desert. Z considered it a sideways blessing that they were already soaked from the rain as they walked, for there seemed to be a ridiculous number of streams that invented themselves on the way. They ranged from two feet deep to four feet deep with a current that could sweep away the unsuspecting, minus the Dragon of course. The only thing Nivaradros had to worry about was being struck by the small—according to him—trees that were sometimes part of the stream. As Nivaradros was unaffected by the rushing waters, he kept both her and Ryedrin from being swept away.
The only true blessing was that the rain was warm. The water that had formed the several dangerous streams wasn’t, but the rain was warm enough to keep Ryedrin from catching a chill. He wouldn’t, however, last for much longer if they didn’t get to Arriandri soon. Sighing, Z concentrated as she walked on, reaching for a very crafty, short-tempered, and hard to contact friend. It took longer than she wanted, but in the end, she felt the light touch on her mind that told her he was coming, and she slowed when her feet touched ‘dry’ land again.
“We will wait here,” she called, having to yell to be heard over the rain. “Aid is coming.”
Ryedrin looked at her with relief in his exhausted features. “Good,” he said as he shook himself, despite the fact it did nothing. “I don’t suppose I can ask you to make a shield and prevent us from drowning by standing still?”
Z nodded and continued to stand while Ryedrin flopped down on the soaked ground once her shield was in place. He was past mere exhaustion; his skin was white, and his chest was heaving, but he hadn’t complained once. She moved to stand over him as his eyes opened to regard hers.
“Go on and say it,” he murmured.
“Say what?”
“I am not living up to your expectations, yet again,” the Warrior said with a sigh.
“Actually, I was going to commend you for your efforts today. It wasn’t easy, and I shouldn’t have asked you to handle the flood waters. How are you?”
“I’ll live,” Ryedrin said with a chuckle. “Who did you send for?”
“Shanii, he’ll bring someone for you to ride as well.”
“It never fails to amaze me how you two get along so well.” Ryedrin murmured as he closed his eyes again. “It’s been a while since we’ve worked together; you’ve never been great at working with your own kind. Immortals yes, but us humans—not so much.”
In the distance Z heard Shanii’s wild cry even through the sound of the rain. “Humans are a reminder of my past,” she reminded him. “And since I find myself again under scrutiny from them, I cannot say my stand to avoid humans is unfounded. Shanii is here—how long do you need?”
“No longer than five minutes,” Ryedrin mumbled, but Z didn’t like this color.
“You have ten,” she said. “When you can get up just come through the barrier. I’ll wait with Nivaradros on the other side. It looks like Shanii brought you Illysira,” she added before she slipped back out into the rain.
Nivaradros, Shanii, and the mare, Illysira, awaited her. Shanii whistled in delight upon seeing her and came to nuzzle her chest in a surprising display of affection. Wrapping her arms around the stallion’s soaked neck, she glanced at Nivaradros and sighed. “He’s exhausted.”
“I thought you were trying to kill him,” the Dragon said. “So we wait for him to recover?”
“He’s got ten minutes or I will drag his ass out myself.”
Chapter 22
Training Ryedrin during their travel didn’t happen. Not even Z was willing to spend time improving her fighting skills when it was raining hard enough to create new streams every five feet. Traveling through these lands was hard enough. The drought would be over by the time the rains stopped—if they ever stopped—but Z foresaw a year of sparse harvests due to the flooding. She would have to find the time, if she ever managed to catch up, to discuss and plan a way to keep everyone fed. The immortals she wasn’t worried about, but the mortals had a habit of not planning ahead, so she doubted they had foreseen the possibility of floods.
They rode for days. Shanii shocked her by offering to carry Nivaradros as well, and the Dragon didn’t protest. Considering the Dragon weighed a hell of a lot more than she did, Z was certain Shanii would be slowed down by carrying him. He proved her wrong; his speed didn’t seem to be affected by the extra weight. It was a blessing. Ryedrin struggled to handle the rain. It fell so fast that even being careful couldn’t keep him from inhaling some of it, and Z worried he would drown before they got to Arriandri. She considered shielding him often, but calling on her power for such a length of time wasn’t something she was willing to do. Right now, magic was not her friend, and the reminder that magic had woken Crilyne was a very sore spot.
That, and she had a thing against using magic when she couldn’t be sure whether the results would have a negative effect on something else. It was raining for a reason, even if they passed over the ground with speed due to their immortal mounts, Z was reluctant to deny the ground any of the rain it was getting. Nivaradros laughed when she told him why she was letting Ryedrin half-drown. She noted, however, that the Dragon didn’t help Ryedrin either, but she kept this to herself. Though Nivaradros had gained a lot of control over his temper, it still fell short when he felt insulted.
After ten days of travel that involved saving two human villages and one immortal one, Z felt Shanii check himself in the downpour and realized they were no longer on a mere dirt path; it was stone.
“We’re here.”
“Did you just notice that?” Nivaradros asked. “The Mithane has been waiting for us since we passed into his lands.” He was upset by something, but the Mithane was not the source of his anger.
“He is—you will find—always waiting. Whether or not I am anywhere near his kingdom.” She glanced over at Ryedrin and grimaced. Mithane?
I was briefed on your companion’s condition. You need to be more observant. There will be a healer awaiting you at the main entrance to usher your former student off to receive the care he needs. Water in his lungs I presume?
He hasn’t learned how to breathe properly yet. That, or he wants to be a fish.
The Mithane, however, picked up on her deeper emotions. What is wrong?
All of the Ranger Councilors are dead…minus yours truly. Crilyne, she added, is behind it. Her words were met with silence. Silence and a heavy lack of surprise. You knew, she accused. You damn well knew he was going to do something, and you said nothing to me!
Welcome to immortality, Zimliya. I am sorry this occurred, but before you shut me out, you, I, and the Dragon need to speak in private. There is something that should have been addressed when you became immortal, but we waited to bring it up because of the circumstances that unfolded. Now, however, it is past time to speak about it. Have you spoken to Crilyne?
Not yet.
Good. Let the Dragon know I want you both to come to my study after you arrive and get Ryedrin to the healer.
She hated being the messenger between immortals. Since Nivaradros was behind her this time, she tried not to loathe it as much. “The Mithane wishes to speak to us when we arrive.”
“Regarding the attacks?” His tone was wrong for his words and she cursed at him.
“You knew as well,” she growled. “Why the hells didn’t anyone warn me?”
“Because you would have tried to prevent things and that would have led us down a path we didn’t need to take.” She felt the Dragon’s arms tighten around her. “I am sorry about this, Z, but this was going to happen at some point.” His apology was sincere, but it sounded wrong, and it still hurt. “Allow us to explain,” he added. “This was not what we agreed to.”
“Oh? What part was your idea?” she demanded as the rain was cut off by magic that barely m
anaged to keep from setting off hers.
“Later,” the Dragon answered. She could feel his unease and tried not to hate him for what he had been a part of. There had to be a reason, and she wanted it to be a good one.
“Ryedrin, how are you doing?” she called ahead of her.
“Now that I feel like I am not being drowned? Fine. I may be able to survive with two weeks of rest. How in the hells do you manage to endure?”
“By learning how to hold my breath…or by knowing there is a high chance I won’t survive it at some point and accepting it.” She frowned and kept an eye on Ryedrin out of concern. He sounded like a drowning kitten, and she could tell he was only conscious by sheer determination. Silently asking Shanii to pick up the pace, she let him take the lead in an effort to get Illysira to speed up. The palomino mare had a habit of just plodding along, and Z wanted to reach the Mithane now more than ever; he was someone she could yell at.
To her astonishment she didn’t have to go to his study to find him. Waiting in the middle of the courtyard leading up to Arriandie, the Mithane directed those around him to attend to her group’s every need as they rode up. Ryedrin was dragged from Illysira’s back to be tended to. She dismounted Shanii and turned her back to the Mithane to stroke the stallion’s water-soaked coat. Nivaradros dismounted and joined the Mithane, as she continued to ignore them both.
“Thanks Son,” she whispered before the stallion snorted and took off without concern.
“Ryedrin is being tended to,” the Mithane said. “Shevieck wishes to see you when I am done, but come, Zimliya. It is time for us to discuss things.”
The desire to hit him was almost overpowering, but at that moment Nivaradros moved from his position at the Mithane’s left to stand behind her instead. “Listen first,” he advised. “Z, none of this was done to hurt you—it simply could not be avoided. Neither of us, I should add, recommended the assassination of the Ranger Council. What Crilyne came to us with did not involve Rangers.”