When Forces Rise

by Meagan Hurst

  “He’s wounded, and he wasn’t part of the bargain I had with you.” Her reply was stilted and cold, but Nivaradros didn’t react. Instead he began to lead the group out of the rather destroyed Hall until they were outside and—due to her actions—at the bottom of the mountain.

  Placing her upon the ground, he gently peeled away her clothing from her wounds and hissed. “You need aid,” he argued. “If I have to reason with you I will, but you are exhausted and your injuries are making it worse.”

  As he spoke, Crilyne moved through the group carrying another, but the man he carried was beyond her aid. She had tried to heal him and she had failed. Mithane, she thought bitterly, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have come here.

  “Zimliya, how will we proceed?” the Islierre inquired as Nivaradros continued to try to convince her to let Dyslentio heal the wounds she had taken.

  “We go home,” Z said tiredly. “You and Shalion can come with me. Sabaias as well if he likes. Zyrhis will return to his people and give word of what happened. I want everyone ready for an attack in case the Dragons decide they would like revenge.”

  Sighing, she gave in to her emotions and pushed the Dragon away as she turned and forced her leg to support her long enough to put some distance between her and all of them. None of them followed, and Z continued to walk until her ankle finally collapsed underneath her. Collapsing into the tall grasses around her, Z wondered if she could learn to forgive herself for any of her recent losses.

  A soft snort brought her back to awareness—she was uncertain whether or not she had managed to sleep, but her mind had been wandering. Shanii glanced down at her before settling beside her on the ground to keep her warm. His questions were full of concern and anger for the pain he knew she felt—and he demanded to know why.

  “The Mithane is dead,” she whispered, feeling him start behind her. “He shouldn’t have come. He…” Wrapping her arms around his neck, she just buried her head into his mane. The loss—his loss—wasn’t something she had considered possible. Unprepared, she had no defense against her feelings, and they swept her away like a storm catches an unprepared ship.

  “He is not dead.”

  The voice caught her and Shanii off guard. The stallion was on his feet in an instant and offered barred teeth to the immortal who stepped into view. Shalion raised a brow at Shanii’s display and held up both hands. “I am not here to harm her, Shanii. I am certain you know this.” Orange eyes moved to hers and Z hesitated before speaking.

  “What are you saying?”

  “I am saying he’s not dead; I have him in my shadow realm. He is…vexed with me, but he knows how stressed you were over his healing and he agreed to submit himself to my aid. I have a feeling I will never hear the end of it when he’s conscious.”

  Z stared at him. “I couldn’t heal his body further.”

  “Yes, well, it was a rather rash move on my part, and I was uncertain I would succeed. I am not my father. He is alive, Zimliya. I offer you no lie here, but I believe you will have to come with me to fetch him. He is most put out with me, as your kind would say, over what occurred, and he heard your voice. I fear he will not return without knowing you are okay, and since he doesn’t trust me, nothing I say will convince him that you are alive—though not entirely well.”

  “I don’t believe you. Shalion, he is not there!” she snarled, stung that he would try to deceive her.

  “When my father pulled you into his realm, your presence was not sensed and you were still breathing!” he countered as he held up his hands. “I mean it, Zimliya, there is no trick here. He is alive. I promise you he is.” He lowered his hands and held one out for her. “Why would I try something? Injured or not, I just got a blistering reminder of your talents. I happen to want to survive a little longer, and I like you. We are friends.”

  She smiled weakly at that and accepted his hand as she closed her eyes. When she opened her eyes, she recognized where they were, but, more importantly, she recognized a touch on her senses. The Mithane was here. Shalion hadn’t lied, the Mithane had to be alive. Joy, relief, and a small amount of guilt for the way she had treated Shalion hit her, and she offered him a stronger smile.

  “You sense him.”

  “I do.”

  “Your control is coming, what a terrifying thought,” Shalion murmured.

  He supported her as they headed to his castle here, but as they approached the doors they opened from the inside with a fair amount of force. The Mithane stood in the space between them and his eyes were only for her. Moving forward, the Mithane reached her side without any obvious signs of injury or pain and caught her face in his hands.

  “You did fine,” he whispered. “Shalion offered to bring me here, and I thought it would be far easier on you. Instead I believe it made things worse.” Kissing her forehead, he pulled her into a hug.

  Shocked, it took her a minute to return his hug, but when she did, Z felt some of the stiffness in her spine leave. “Yeah,” she whispered with a weak laugh. “Warn me next time.”

  “Now you know what it’s like,” was his only reply. He glanced at the Islierri and made a face. “For the record, being here as a guest is not any better than being entrapped in this place.”

  “I never guaranteed it would be better; I said it might,” Shalion replied with a shrug. “The shadows are not for everyone. Z controls the element and still dislikes it. I’d avoid angering her right now though.”

  “Oh?”

  “She’s in a bit of a mood. I don’t believe the Dragons will recover from their shock for the next couple millenniums. Apparently they’ve never seen her angry. She thought they killed you, Mithane. It was beautiful how she handled them.”

  The Mithane raised a brow at her. Shifting her weight, she shrugged. “I may have, um…taken the Hall through the mountain to the ground beneath it and disabled the Dragons’ ability to use magic or fly while I spoke with them…”

  “Is that all?” the Mithane wanted to know, but he was smiling and he glanced at Shalion before shaking his head. “It has been a long couple of days for all of us. I suppose I should just remind myself of that fact. Shalion, is Zimliya here in body or is she here like I am?”

  “She is entirely here, as am I.”

  “But I can touch her.”

  Amusement flickered across Shalion’s features. “One would hope I would have some control of my element.” It was the whole of his reply and, to Z’s surprise, the Mithane chuckled and inclined his head. They were, she realized, allies. On the way to being friends. For a second the idea frightened her and she thought of ways to break the relationship while it was still green.

  Yet she wanted them both on her councils. She wanted the world to be unified against Midestol instead of each kingdom fighting only for itself. As the unofficial Islierra and the official Mithania, a positive relationship between the two ancient rulers was a benefit, even if one of them was technically an heir. It also meant there was a slightly smaller chance of them attempting to kill each other.

  “What was the verdict for Nivaradros?” the Mithane wanted to know as he let the Islierri carry her into the castle.

  “I’m not sure there was a verdict,” Shalion remarked as he placed Z in a chair and eyed her blood soaked clothing with disgust. “They voted to keep him alive. Z has decreed we should all tighten the defenses of our kingdoms incase the Dragons decide to retaliate. But in the case of my kingdom, I almost think it would be a benefit. Humans are rather easy to kill and why worry about doing all the fighting yourself when you have one very insulted winged race that would be happy to have a target?”

  Immortals. She would never understand them.

  Still he had a point, but Z had no intention of letting the Dragons attack the Ryelentions—or anyone else. “There was no official verdict,” she confirmed. “The Dragons just voted that Nivaradros would not be executed.” Feeling exhaustion surround her, she shook her head. “Can we return to the others? And can we return the Mithane to
the living before someone does something stupid?”

  “After all they’ve been through, you really think there would be a problem?” Shalion wanted to know as his brows rose.

  “I have left three immortal heirs with a Shade, the Islierre, a Kryhista, and Shanii on the Isle where we have just managed to frighten or anger an entire race. I believe that speaks for itself. Do you have any idea how much trouble three heirs can get into in five minutes?”

  The two immortals before her exchanged a glance before standing with haste. “Good point,” Shalion muttered. “I distinctly recall what happened when I escorted you into my kingdom with other Heirs.” His eyes blazed as he glanced at the Mithane. “One of them was Shevieck. How is it he is so different from you?”

  “We all wonder that at times,” the Mithane grimaced. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

  Chapter 15

  “Mithane, I realize you wish to speak with her, but I just managed to get her to sleep!” Nivaradros whispered—sort of—somewhere above her. His tone was sharp but respectful, and Z knew he was still worried about the day’s effects on all of them. “She thought, we all thought, you were dead and her reaction to that death was frightening.”

  “I heard. Nivaradros, I wouldn’t be here if I thought this could be delayed. She is upset and I wish to help. I heard her when she was healing me; believe that I am aware how much my injuries shook her, but I am alive, and I need to remind her of that fact.”

  “She knows.”

  “She does, but rather than discussing it, you carried her in here once she was well and kept her away from all of us.”

  Silence. Z felt Nivaradros’s hand move to stroke her face, but he didn’t try to keep her asleep. “Alright,” the Dragon sighed. “But if you upset her…”

  “I know. I know. You’ll kill me.”

  “Maim. Killing you would only upset her more,” Nivaradros retorted in a mournful tone. His lips brushed her forehead, and his weight beside her vanished. She had determinedly not inquired how an actual bed had ended up in her tent. “If anything goes wrong…”

  “I will send word.”

  She heard the flap of the tent open and then slide closed as the Dragon left. The Mithane, however, stayed where he was. Pulling herself out of her slumber, Z turned tired eyes on the ruler who looked about as tired as she felt.

  “It’s like looking into a mirror, except that the reflection is male and Alantaion,” she muttered as she sat up. “Mithane.” His expression was so comical, she chuckled and shook her head. “Father.”

  “You still act like that word will kill you,” he chided as he approached her. His eyes darkened as they looked at her lightning scars, but as he handed her a shirt, he said nothing about them. “I take it Nivaradros was not confident in my healing?”

  “Due to your condition and the fact we had believed you were deceased, he thought you might have overlooked something,” she agreed. “He therefore spent thirty minutes trying to make sure nothing was bleeding which resulted in him finding scars he apparently didn’t know about.”

  “You frightened him.”

  “I distinctly recall offering to let you kill me; you turned me down.”

  The Mithane sighed and settled in a chair. His eyes watched her, but he finally nodded in agreement. “You did offer, but I don’t think that would have solved anything, nor would surrendering your power. You have power, my dear—a frightening amount—but you have it because it is safe to give it to you. I heard what you did. Even in the depths of your anger you knew destroying the mountain would be dangerous, so you sent the debris to another realm, and to ensure it harmed no one there, you sent it to a shadow realm. Very few people would have the control to understand the effects their magic was causing. And, Zimliya? Killing you would have accomplished nothing.”

  It would have, in her mind, accomplished a great deal. “I wanted to speak with you,” she said as she pulled the shirt over her head. “There are some new difficulties, and I think you’re the safest to talk to about them.”

  “Not Crilyne?”

  “I am still hesitant to trust him with anything, least he decide it requires immediate action.”

  The Mithane grimaced but didn’t argue with her. “I wanted to thank you,” he said softly. Holding up a hand as she opened her mouth, the Mithane finished silencing her with a glare. “You helped me—you saved me. I know how deep your hatred of magic goes; I know how much deeper your dislike of healing is. Yet you did heal me. I heard you,” he added. “I heard your fear, Zimliya and I felt it in your willingness to push past everything to help me. You would have, had you been asked to, given your life for mine. I am almost certain you considered trying.”

  Her silence was enough of an answer, but she turned the conversation away before he could make too much of an issue out of it. “How many half-breeds do you know of?”

  The Mithane froze. Just froze. She tensed in response to his sudden shocked expression and waited for it to pass. It sort of did. “Why would you ask a question like that, Zimliya? I was under the impression that you were not interested in children.”

  Now it was her turn to freeze. And pale. “No!” she cried loudly—horrified. “Oh no, that’s not why I’m asking.” Embarrassed, alarmed, and almost disgusted, she held up her hand.

  Her guest, however, began to laugh. His laughter held the same musical notes it always had, and it soothed away her embarrassment until she could laugh as well. “Oh, Child, you bring me much joy at times. I have never seen you go that pale. Not even when I asked you how Nivaradros and you were getting along in that regard.”

  She didn’t even mind if he referred to her as a small being. She was on many levels, and even with her immortality, she would be seen as young. Unfortunately, the immortals still viewed her as both an adult and a small being at the same time, which made dealing with them occasionally difficult, depending on what day they saw her and how they saw her on that day. The Mithane managed to see her as both at the same time. He trusted her instincts, her training, and her power; he doubted her view of herself and her ability to interact with others.

  She was working on that. The damned Dragon made sure of it. “Evieck,” she managed to say weakly. “Father, you didn’t answer the question.”

  The Mithane’s eyes showed he was pleased. “You’re getting better at using that word,” he observed. He inclined his head though. “And yes I did not, you startled me with the question is all. I thought for a moment the unthinkable had happened.” His eyes danced, but there was a hint of something dark behind them as well. “Half-breeds are not very common and they don’t survive long; you know this.”

  She did, but he was being evasive. “Do you have a half-breed child?” she asked in a careful tone.

  “I had one.” The Mithane’s voice was cold, stilted, carried the promise of a nasty reply if she pushed things. He tended to push her when she responded in a similar tone, but she wasn’t him; she fell silent.

  Turning away from him to give him space, Z swung her legs out of bed. Grimacing as she rose, she moved to find pants. Sliding into a pair of her more expensive immortal ones, she let the Mithane work things out in his mind and examined her tent instead. It had changed drastically since she had last used it. The bed was larger, and the entire inside of the tent seemed to have become larger as well. There was more room, and Nivaradros had apparently once again decided to rearrange things. Having gotten used to this, she let it pass without too much concern even though she saw signs of Nivaradros’s pent up anger; he had brought more power out in the tent.

  There was a small interwoven circle of fire, shadow, air, water, magic, earth, and—she stumbled here in shock—absence. She hadn’t suspected he had this level of control. She’d had no clue. As an Arbais mage he could call it, in theory, but learning to master it was something few attempted or were capable of. Shaking slightly, she exhaled and wondered how Nivaradros managed to avoid using it.

  Absence and shadow were the two mo
st dangerous elements because they had so much risk involved in using them. Yes, the other elements could be used destructively, but shadow could create nothing out of something, and although it wasn’t of the world, what was created was easy to use and abuse. Also, if people weren’t mentally strong enough, they could easily lose track of the differences between the real world and what was created out of or in shadow.

  Absence, however, was what could destroy a world if it was used improperly—and like shadow, using it was all too easy. It took a certain mindset to use it without backfiring, which was probably why it had been considered a myth until she had used it in a battle she had been dangerously close to losing. To save a race, she had pulled all magic from the field and she had locked away everything else at the same time. And the feel of it had been all too easy to give into. She could have created a magical void over her world, but she’d managed to resist the temptation and maintain her control of the element.

  Sighing, she pushed the memory and the desire that had surfaced with it back into the depths of her mind. Her world had elemental calls to it—strong ones—and multitudes of races who were strong enough to use it. She wasn’t certain how many worlds existed like hers, but she assumed she could count them on one hand. Shaking herself, she turned her mind to other changes in her tent.

  Like the fact Kyi’rinn had been placed where she could reach it by rolling over. It confirmed Nivaradros could touch her sword without major consequences, which she hadn’t expected. Kyi’rinn refused Crilyne’s touch. The last time he had tried to move Kyi’rinn, the Shade had been weak and in pain for weeks afterward. Yet someone had moved Kyi’rinn somewhere she could easily reach it. Smiling with relief and delight, she turned her attention to cleaning when the Mithane spoke again.

  “Sit, Zimliya, and listen. There are some things you should know about those of mixed blood since you are currently involved with a Dragon.”