by Meagan Hurst
“You are related to Midestol?!”
“Something like that.” Z sighed and eyed Nicklyn. He was as she remembered him, while also being infinitely more annoying. A decade had passed since his demise, and a part of her wondered if she had simply changed that much over the time. A little voice inside of her reminded her that Nicklyn had been closer to a miniature Midestol, and although he wasn’t acting like it now, she decided caution was needed more than she had originally thought.
“You’ve changed,” he observed when she had held her tongue for more than fifteen minutes.
“I am breathing!” she snapped. “You’re dead and have managed to change. What’s your excuse?!”
Nicklyn chuckled but inclined his head. “Your point. I suppose I should go inform my master you will not be accepting his offer.”
“Your master?!”
“I made a misstep when I was trying to become a Wraith. As a result I was trapped between death and this stage until he found me.”
“Why didn’t you reach out to me?”
“I didn’t think you would help. You had just killed me.”
“I killed you to prevent you from killing me,” Z said through clenched teeth. “I would have aided you in your transformation. Wraiths are not that dangerous after all.”
“Oh really?” Nicklyn almost purred as he approached her. His step went from normal to one she would associate with a predator hunting for its prey; too bad she wasn’t impressed by it. Holding up her daggers, Z gave him a dark look and waited to see if he would come closer. Intelligence won, and Nicklyn rolled his eyes. “I was hoping you were better about that,” he grumbled.
“I am. You’re still in existence,” she countered. “Go tell your master I’m not bought. If he wants this world, he had better expect to fight me to get it.”
Nicklyn’s smile was a threat. “Oh, he will be aiding Midestol—rest assured. He wants what Midestol has to offer him and he is well aware you would not be willing to offer him anything similar. Be careful, Z, you have no idea what he is after.”
“Then tell me,” she said softly.
As it always had in the past, her voice stopped him cold. “He wants you, Z,” Nicklyn told her in a tone she’d never heard from him before. “With your power you are an interest, but with your control and ability to use it, you are a gem and an asset.”
“He told you to offer me a way out.”
“Because he knew you wouldn’t take it. He had to make the offer to create the illusion of goodwill.” Nicklyn’s pupil-less eyes locked on her. “I am serious about this threat to you, Z. He wants you and you alone; whatever it takes to control you, he is willing to do. Whoever gets in his way will pay—even you.”
“Except I’m the one he wants.”
“He doesn’t care what mental state you’re in when he claims you.” Nicklyn warned. “I’d like to aid you, but I am unable to at this time. If you are willing to continue to speak with me …Z, I’d like to still be able to see you.”
Nivaradros was going to flip. Crilyne would be even less thrilled. But the being she worried about the most was the Mithane. Nicklyn’s love-hate-life-death relationship with her had been hard for the Alantaion to tolerate, even harder for him to help her understand. “You may see me as long as you don’t try anything. Remember I do know how to kill you, and this time it will be much easier.”
He laughed. “As you say,” he told her with a mocking bow. “Until next time, Z.” He walked to the door—disappearing as mysteriously as he always had.
She stared at the spot he had vanished from and closed her eyes before letting out a groan. Nivaradros?! She called.
Here, the Dragon replied at once. She could tell he had been waiting for her to contact him and he picked up on her emotions at once. What happened? You are…uninjured?
Nicklyn was here. She felt his cold disapproval but continued speaking because he hadn’t yet spoken. He’s a Wraith, Nivaradros, and he was here to both warn and threaten me. Midestol’s ally is far more dangerous than we suspected. His ally is after—she paused.
You. We have known it for months. Z, he is after you and I am unwilling to let him have you. Whatever Nicklyn offers turn it down. You can defeat Midestol and we can defeat his army.
I am aware of that.
I am not so certain you are. Do not play the sacrificial human, alright? I have the leaders of each army meeting me when we arrive on shore. Do not do anything stupid. Get what you need from Midestol—and I don’t think you need to be there at all—and get out. Understand? Do not let Nicklyn beguile you.
Believe I am quite familiar with him.
That is what concerns me. Pay attention, Z. Your immortality has not terminated foolish human ideas nor has it removed all of your bad habits. It may magnify them. If I have to send the Shade to your side I will send him. Midestol is playing games—
Actually Midestol isn’t playing this one. He was furious and alarmed when Nicklyn showed up. He exploded him at breakfast, but since Nicklyn is a Wraith, all it did was empower him and allow him ample time to sneak into my tower. I don’t trust Nicklyn, but he does have a use.
I hope you are correct about that. When can you leave? What are you trying to accomplish? Rameilas is dead.
I’m in the middle of evacuating slaves.
The astonishment was so powerful Z forgot to breathe. Resignation followed instead of the anger she expected, and she felt Nivaradros’s sigh. Of course you are. While you are in the middle of being threatened and are currently surrounded by men who work for the most dangerous human—possibly the most dangerous being—in the world you are not concerned with your own safety. No. You are worried about those he has captured and that he will probably recapture. Slaves that will die in a handful of years regardless whether you intervene or not. Of course you want to stay to help them. His resignation began to settle his anger and she felt him sigh again. Use caution—can’t you leave and then come in one of the back ways to get them out? Midestol is less likely to suspect you if you are not in his castle at the time!
Nivaradros, I can take care of myself.
Except when you are protecting others. And protecting those Midestol has captured is a solid way to get injured. Think, Zimliya, Midestol wants to win.
He wants to fight me.
That is what he claims, and if that is true that’s fine, but realize he will not be opposed to you being wounded. Send your Rangers in for this, Zimliya, and come home.
Nivaradros…
Send the Rangers in. This is their job, and it is your job to support them. She felt his exasperation and instinctively reached out to find out more. He was frustrated with her willingness to put herself in harm’s way, and he worried she would be too far from him if she needed aid. It surprised her, but not as much as his next words. Please, Zimliya. Hand this to someone else and come home. It is…hard to accept that you are in the middle of the enemy stronghold when a war that has been simmering in the background for decades is about to come to be, and it is made worse by the fact someone you cared for and killed is once again running around and trying to kill you. Don’t let him fool you; he will try to kill you again.
I know, Nivaradros, but I don’t think I can leave yet. Give me another week.
Fine, but if you get yourself killed I am not going to forgive you. You are mine remember—you do not have my permission to perish. She felt the Dragon’s unease, but he exhaled. I have to go, but try to be careful and remember you can contact me if anything comes up. He was gone before she could answer, and his urgency made her hold back from speaking to him. He didn’t need the distraction.
She needed one. She grabbed her sword, some daggers, and the bow that had returned itself to her side. Midestol had practice courts and she was certain if she mentioned she was going he would both allow it and escort her. Heading out of her room, she made sure her weapons were visible, and she kept a hand rested upon the hilt of Kyi’rinn as she walked. Reaching out with her senses, Z tried to
pin down Midestol’s location, but between the magic the castle was infused with, the slaves who were being tortured or killed, and the various types of magic being experimented with, Z found herself overwhelmed with traces to follow. She was unwilling to give up, and forced her power to block everything until she could find the presence she sought.
He was in his rooms—his bedroom to be precise. Great. Knowing full well what he would be up to, Z nevertheless headed that way. No one interfered and she managed to get to that side of the castle in twenty minutes. Rapping on the door, she waited for Midestol to answer. She hoped he had clothes on when he came to the door. The door opened with a jerk and Z could feel the beginning of a spell when Midestol appeared. Upon seeing her, he froze before opening the door further. He was, thank magic for small mercies, wearing pants. He wasn’t alone, but Z kept her eyes on Midestol.
Raising a brow, Z offered him a cool smile. “Want me to come back later?” Her eyes were drawn to several scars she knew she had gifted him with and she could see his older scars as well. Another thing that seemed to run in her family.
His irritation at her lack of horror was clear. “I would prefer it,” he replied. “Unless there is an important matter I needed to know about.”
Deciding to be more than a minor irritation, she flashed him a much more devious smile this time. “Not really, I was just going to go down and practice my weaponry, and I thought you might take offense.” Giving those words time to sink in, she turned as if to leave before spinning to face him again. “And, in case you didn’t know, Nicklyn’s a Wraith. I would advise not throwing any more magic his way.” She moved to leave a second time, and felt Midestol grab her arm. Whirling with daggers out, she came within inches of attacking, but his eyes caused her to pause.
“Wait here,” Midestol said in a controlled tone before releasing her and slamming the door in her face. He was gone for less than five minutes before the door reopened. His hands bore traces of blood, but he stepped into the hall without another word.
She ignored the blood. If he was trying to bait her, he was in for a disappointment. Instead she straightened from the slouched position she had assumed on the wall across from his door. He sealed his room but strolled off in silence; she fell in step with him but kept her thoughts to herself.
They were left alone on their walk to the courts. Midestol’s temper was tuned enough to ward off most warriors, but Z was confident she had just as much of an effect on them, since she was as frustrated as Midestol. Their matching tempers was a benefit to her; Midestol was likely to help her burn off her edge. She would have preferred to spar with Nivaradros, but she had liked sparring with her grandfather the last time they had interacted as family. The practice courts Midestol led her to were outside and they were covered with snow. Sighing, Z kept her thoughts to herself, but wondered why he refused to fight inside during such difficult weather. It became evident when they arrived; there was no one else on any of the fields.
“What did Nicklyn tell you?” Midestol asked—standing close enough that their shoulders almost brushed.
“Other than if you win and I somehow manage to not be dead, your nameless ally gets to keep me? Not much.”
Midestol grimaced. “That was not the original agreement, but things have changed, yes.” His orange eyes regarded her intently. “You don’t seem upset about it.”
“I’m not surprised.” Z moved away from him before throwing up a shield as she felt something thrown her way, but she was either too slow or they broke through her defenses; she couldn’t tell.
It was like having a seizure again. Grateful for the lack of pain, Z ended up on the ground thrashing. Breathing became an issue and her vision continued to fade in and out. She could hear Midestol calling her name, and she realized he was kneeling in the snow beside her, but she had no control over her body. She didn’t, however, plan to continue with her lack of control; she began to fight.
Midestol’s nameless ally—she knew it was him based on his power—tried to break through her mental defenses while he magically ambushed her. Fighting him off was difficult, she could barely regain any control of her body, and he attacked her mentally in several different areas at once, trying to drag up any memory he could to catch her off guard or break her. Fighting back, she tightened her defenses—pulling her memories closer—and continued to gain control of her body.
She also began to pull her power, and coiled it deep within her until she reached a point where her attacker’s power was both traceable and catchable. Attacking his power with hers, Z sent his power back and felt the world around her vibrate with the force. As it was, she could feel Nivaradros’s fear and concern growing as she continued to battle something she could barely withstand. She was, however, at least his equal due to her fear and anger, and she felt his injuries occur as often as she was injured. Blood began flow in her mouth, and Z knew she had to win soon. If this attack continued for much longer, she would perish.
“Zimliya, hang on,” Midestol said somewhere from above her. “Just hang on.”
She heard him arguing with her attacker, but she had no idea what was being said. She pulled the last bit of power she had been thrown and twisted in an attempt to cause a backlash against her opponent. Her last conscious thought was that Midestol’s unnamed ally would find this world damned hard to deal with if she died and Nivaradros reached him first.
She awoke in a bed that was not in the tower, but still in Midestol’s castle. Her grandfather was seated in a chair at a desk that was new to the room—his room—and he appeared to be working on documents she was certain she didn’t want to know about. Shifting under the covers, Z did a physical check with magic and found she was…fine? Wondering why Midestol had decided to move her back into his quarters, Z decided to let Midestol explain his decision in his own time.
“I am glad to see you’ve finally awakened. I was quite worried,” Midestol remarked without looking up. “It has been well over a month.”
“Over a month?!” Z reached out with her senses to confirm his words and winced when she found them to be true; the feel of the world was different, and she could tell the time of the year because of it.
“Indeed. As no one has come to try to rescue you, I assumed they knew you were relatively well—or at least alive. I also know you were not to blame for the loss of my slaves. I lost several thousand while you were indisposed.” He pushed back his chair and stood. Sealing a final letter, he walked around the desk to approach her. “I apologize for that attack, Zimliya. Apparently Nicklyn’s message to you was something you were not supposed to hear. My ally thought it was therefore a wise decision to attempt to bend you to his will, and you decided to retaliate. I’m not certain what you did, but I would appreciate it if you would refrain from repeating that type of an attack when we battle. I’d prefer a quick death.”
“I suppose I said something out loud?” Z said as she tried to get up. Midestol thwarted that attempt by pushing her shoulders back down.
“No, if you had spoken aloud I believe your words would have been more colorful,” Midestol’s smile was cold and too dangerous for her liking. “What matters is you survived and there is a crater the size of the castle in the middle of my outdoor practice courts.”
“Backlash?” she guessed as she tried to once again stand.
“Indeed. I suspect you almost destroyed him. I would be willing to make the argument that he was closer to being nonexistent than you were to being dead.” He ensured she remained in the bed before sitting down on the edge of it. The hostility she had sensed was gone, and Midestol looked…tired. “Nothing will interfere with our battle,” he told her. “I would recommend that you return to your people and allow someone to examine you, but I will not try to insist upon it.”
“I probably should check in with everyone. Nivaradros may be at the end of his sanity,” she sighed. “Besides, if you would like to meet on the field, I need to make sure that occurs.”
“I am still holding some
of the kingdoms you are sworn to protect; is there any chance a battle will not occur?”
“You’d be surprised how difficult it is to make the Alliance actually do what they have agreed to both verbally and on paper.”
This time he let her rise when she made the attempt. She was—to her surprise—clothed. She had lost weight, judging by the way her clothing draped over her form. He also directed her to an awaiting bath in an adjoining room. The touch of magic was in the air, but it was minor and nothing she needed to worry about. Emerging clean and dressed, Z returned to Midestol’s bedroom to find him back behind his desk. His eyes flicked up to her before they went back to whatever he was working on, but he gestured for her to return to the bed. She refused. To her surprise, Midestol chuckled before proceeding to ignore her for the rest of the day.
“If you are finished?” she pressed after she had been standing there for over five hours.
Midestol glanced up as he put whatever he was working on away. “I can be finished if you would like.” He got up and offered her a smile that caught her off guard. It was without even a sliver of darkness and, briefly, she saw the man he could have been—possibly had been—for his daughter. “Would you like to try and spar today—hopefully without interruptions and without a giant crater being formed in the middle of my practice courts?”
Wincing, Z offered him an apology. “I would like to spar with you again,” she admitted. “If I promised to behave, will you agree to do the same?” Laughing, Midestol offered her his arm and began to escort her once more to the practice courts.
This time he led her to the more crowded ones indoors, and on their way, he offered her a practice blade. When she gave him a look of disgust he shook his head. “Both of us are capable of getting carried away; I’d like this battle to end without a serious injury or death. Although we could kill each other with the practice blades, I believe both of us are unlikely to take things that far.”