When Forces Rise

by Meagan Hurst

  “Z?”

  Sighing, she reminded herself killing Nicklyn would accomplish nothing, but a small and dark voice inside her pointed out strangling him wouldn’t actually destroy him. She considered the concept for a minute before giving that idea up as well. “I’m heading back to Arriandie. You are welcome to accompany me, but I will forewarn you I will probably be astride Shanii.”

  “You still ride that creature?” Nicklyn asked in incredibility. “I thought for sure you would have found a—”

  “A what? A less temperamental mount? Recall Midestol warned you I was involved with a Dragon; I happen to like Shanii’s temper.”

  “Is that why you killed me, and why you are so frigid around me?”

  And she was back to considering strangling him. “If I hadn’t killed you—you would have killed me. Yes, you were aiding me at the time, but you planned to switch sides. We knew that was part of our…interactions. As for now…Nicklyn, things have changed. Or perhaps I should say I have changed. Despite your ‘older’ appearance you are the same as you were when I ran Kyi’rinn through you. Not to mention, you are working for a being who is out to gain control of me while handing over the world—and other worlds—to Midestol. Why, exactly, do you think I should be happy to see you?”

  “Because I would have thought our friendship—”

  “We were never friends,” Z informed him. Brushing past him, she moved to the tower door and opened it to reveal Midestol. “As you’ve been listening for the past five minutes, you might as well come in.” Stepping out of the doorway, she gestured for him to enter before heading back to her packs.

  Midestol walked in with a mocking smile and nodded to Nicklyn stiffly before his attention returned to her. “You’re leaving?”

  “I’ve been summoned, and unless you plan to interfere I intend to leave tonight.” She glanced at him, but Midestol showed no signs of dismay or anger over her declaration.

  “Safe trip back,” was his amused reply. He moved to leave. “Come prepared to fight, Z,” he requested softly. “I want our final meeting to be worth it.” Bowing formally, he left her in the room with Nicklyn, but this time she headed to the door with the intention of leaving.

  Her departure turned out to be easier than she expected; Midestol provided her with an armed escort to his borders. His reasoning—according to him—was that she would make it to his borders unmolested, and he wouldn’t lose any of his warriors on her way there if he ensured she had no reason to attack them. He had very pointedly told those escorting her that he would torture and kill them if she received even a scratch on her way to the border. But, he had trusted her enough to let her leave without personally escorting her. All things considered, she considered it a miracle.

  She had declined the creature her had offered to let her borrow. The escort she had reluctantly accepted because her departure would be smoother if she didn’t have to fight her way to the border. Her assigned protection, however, was less than pleased with the thought of having to walk with her to the border. She felt part of their disgust was due to the full sets of armor Midestol had ordered them to wear. Z would never understand armor. The Rangers believed armor wasn’t worth it. If the enemy was better than you, motivated, or just got lucky, the armor wouldn’t save you. Yes, the occasional injury could be prevented by armor, but the Rangers felt there were too many pitfalls to make it advantageous.

  Not to mention armor crafted by mortals was—in her opinion—useless. It was inflexible, heavy, vision cutting, and like walking around in a metal trap. She foresaw a time when she would accept immortally crafted armor due to her constantly increasing status. Nivaradros hadn’t pushed the issue yet, but she could sense he intended to bring it up one day and argue the point.

  He was likely to win as well. For some reason the Dragon won more arguments than he lost. It was something she was struggling to adjust to; she was used to winning arguments. It probably had something to do with the fact that she cared for him far more than she did anyone else, and it also probably had something to do with his age. On the other hand, she seldom lost arguments with rulers who were older than he was. For whatever reason, Z had resigned herself to losing verbal battles with him. She was better than he when it came to a fight with weapons—she believed his lesser form hindered him—but he was beyond her superior in the use of magic.

  It was another thing Nivaradros intended to resolve. He was a Dragon about her lessons. Most of them she enjoyed, but Nivaradros didn’t understand her discomfort with magic. Instead, he grew frustrated when she tapped into too much power—in her mind—and had a momentary shut down. He was getting better about backing off and taking things back to a simpler scale, but she could always feel his irritation. His immortality was a benefit to her; he was willing to wait. Not in the most patient manner, but he was a Dragon and patience wasn’t something in which they excelled.

  Days passed as she walked with her escort, but Z kept her thoughts to herself and scarcely noticed her companions other than to ensure none of them were plotting her demise. She ignored Nicklyn, but she did remember to call for a rest to ensure her chaperons did not expire from exhaustion.

  “Z?”

  Pivoting she punched Nicklyn squarely in the face before rotating back on her heels and proceeding forward. “Yes?”

  Nicklyn swore—loudly—as he increased the distance between them. “I believe your disaster of a horse is coming.” It sounded like he was holding his hand over his nose and she felt a small amount of delight. It was petty, but she didn’t care in the slightest.

  Z chuckled. “He’s been on his way—that I could sense—for about three miles. It shouldn’t be a concern since we will reach the border before he does. If it is a concern, you can keep it to yourself.”

  Two hours later, following two breaks, one near drowning, and one rather savage attack against her escorts from one of Midestol’s creatures—a shrill scream rang out from ahead. A smile appeared on her features as she whistled in response. Another scream sounded and then the outline of a solitary horse appeared on the horizon. Ever the dramatic, Shanii reared and pawed the air before him. Charging them once all four hooves touched the ground, Shanii effortlessly closed the distance between them sliding to a halt inches from her face.

  “Hello son,” she greeted. “They’re here with permission, please don’t kill them.”

  He was immensely displeased with her, but after giving Midestol’s escort a dark look he snorted and knelt for her to get on. At her silent refusal, his ears went flat against his skull until she gave in and slipped onto his back. Unfortunately for Nicklyn, Shanii noticed him once she was on and Z had about a three second warning before Shanii attempted to flatten Nicklyn with his hooves.

  “Damn immortal stallion! I am already dead!” Nicklyn cried as Shanii continued to try and trample him. “For crying out loud, Z, rein him in or something!”

  She would have, but she was laughing too hard to try and tell Shanii to stop. As a result the stallion gave her an earful—mindful really—of his delight over the fact he was finally allowed to chase Nicklyn around in an attempt to trample him. Shanii wasn’t trying; had he been, Nicklyn would have been flattened. Instead the stallion played with the Wraith and kept him running for a good seven miles as they left Midestol’s escort behind.

  Traveling went well for the most part—for her. Shanii had decided Nicklyn was going to be his cure for boredom. Z let Shanii have a two hour run each morning in an attempt to curb his interested in the Wraith, but Shanii had stamina to burn and enjoyed tormenting Nicklyn. Z avoided speaking to her unwanted companion, but she did prevent the stallion from seriously wounding the Wraith.

  The stallion, however, still pretended he could. He also wasn’t opposed to biting Nicklyn—typically on the shoulders. Sometimes he walked on Nicklyn’s heels. To make matters worse, Nicklyn didn’t handle the whole situation as he should have; he was far too reactive to Shanii’s taunting. Everyone else, even Crilyne, knew better than to d
o more than glare at Shanii.

  On day fifteen of their travels, Z heard a familiar whoop of delight as she reined in Shanii at the top of a hill following another long day of travel. Laughing as she swung down from the stallion, she approached the awaiting group of Vyenrians with a small amount of apprehension. She hadn’t run across such a large group of them, despite the aid they offered for the war, since Leermo had perished in the battle that ensued from her effort to combat the magical destruction Tenia had almost brought upon the world.

  “Hey, Z!”

  She had a brief warning before arms wrapped around her from behind and lifted her—swinging her around completely before putting her down. Z had a hand on the hilt of her sword as she whirled to face the dancing copper eyes of Lyrara.

  “What is it with your family and contact?!” Z cried as she laughed. She let her hand fall away from the hilt of Kyi’rinn. Leermo’s younger sister shrugged in response; her expression was smooth, but her eyes gave away her emotions. At only a century and a half old, Lyrara would be considered a child for at least another half century, but that didn’t mean she would act like it.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t try to stab me,” the Vyenrian heiress said with a raised brow. “My father’s clearly heard right; Nivaradros has been having some success at desensitizing you.”

  “Miracles do happen, I am told,” Z replied as Lyrara rolled her eyes. Like any other immortal Z had dealt with, she disliked the term miracle. Their dislike of the word was one of the reasons Z kept it in her vocabulary.

  “If time isn’t a factor for you, my father would like to extend an offer of accommodations for the night,” the Vyenrian offered. Her gaze was uncertain as it moved to the rest of her people. Z frowned. It was clear Lyrara still wasn’t used to being an heiress despite the years that had passed since Leermo’s death.

  Lyrara was also dressed in the typical Vyenrian hunting outfit, an outfit that implied she probably wasn’t supposed to be out this far from her kingdom. But her words indicated she had permission.

  Z’s eyes narrowed. “Your father has been scanning his borders closely,” she murmured.

  “With the current activity of Midestol’s forces and having just regained our kingdom, did you expect anything less?”

  “No, but I was rather hopeful that I could sneak through without causing a fuss.”

  “Lyrasan does not hold you responsible for Leermo’s death, Zimliya,” one of Lyrara’s party spoke up. “He knew the risks in allowing Leermo to accompany you. We expected no one to survive. Had you been able to save him, you would have, but there is not a single Vyenrian who holds you accountable for anything but saving the world.” Cooper eyes held hers before a smile touched the corners of the speaker’s face and he bowed to her very formerly. “Or should I call you Queen? Or Thinyan? Or Islierra?”

  She wanted to hit him. Rolling her eyes dramatically skyward, Z used her most disgusted and irritated tone. “Spare me!” she all but begged. “Just Z is fine!”

  Kylaris surprised her by laughing, but he did bow again. “As you say,” he half teased. He was amused, but pleased to see her. It was refreshing, and due to the brief time she had spent around the Vyenrians—in comparison to some of the other immortal races—it was nice to know they seemed to still tolerate her existence. “But we would be honored if you would consider joining us in our humble kingdom.”

  “Immortals don’t know the meaning of humble,” Z countered in a dry tone. “You throw the word around a lot, but you are the first to get offended if those you invite to visit do not display a large amount of awe when presented with something that could only be considered humble by the very drunk.”

  “You have always had quite a way with words,” Kylaris teased. “Are you coming with us or not?”

  “I would love to, but I promised Nivaradros I was on the way home and since he decided to tag along, the Dragon is already vexed.” She jerked her head at Nicklyn and saw cooper eyes darken dangerously.

  “That is a Wraith who looks an awful lot like the mortal human who used to occasionally follow you around—and try to kill you.”

  “He is standing right here,” Nicklyn growled. “But your memory is flawless. I am that former human. I am not here to kill her.”

  “You stated that often in the past. Yet you stabbed her inches from her heart.” Kylaris crossed his arms, but returned his attention to her. “I will pass on your regrets to Lyrasan. The majority of our army was sent to Arriandie three days before your arrival, minus the small detachment Nivaradros is allowing each leader to keep if they desire to protect the kingdoms while we ride to war. I, Lyrara, and Lyrasan will be in a group leaving in two days. We look forward to the opportunity to fight once more alongside you. Perhaps this time we can free the world of Midestol’s hold permanently. Ride well, Z.”

  “Ride well, Kylaris,” she replied formally with a bow as she flashed Lyrara a smile. “You’d better surpass your brother in combat. And please don’t tell me you’ve broken your sword.”

  Lyrara chuckled. “I haven’t broken my sword,” she assured her. “And according to my J’ire, my form and skills already surpass Leermo’s. Will you actually be fighting alongside us?”

  “In the beginning perhaps, but when Midestol starts throwing magic around like a teenage human girl throwing a temper tantrum, I expect our battle will have to be relocated.”

  “To another world?”

  “I could—which would endanger everyone on that world—or I may pull him into the shadows if I believe I can hold the sub-world in place enough to allow us to battle safely.”

  “The shadows are not an element to be trifled with, Zimliya,” Kylaris chided. “Do you have the control required to accomplish such a difficult undertaking?”

  “We’ll see. There is a benefit to the shadows that makes them more enticing. If I perish, Midestol will likely be trapped or destroyed, making either of my outcomes positive.” She laughed at the dark looks she received before she leapt back onto Shanii’s back. “I was just pointing out there is a possible bright spot to all of this.” She glanced at Nicklyn. “I don’t suppose your warm reception here has changed your mind about your rather foolish decision to accompany me back to Arriandie?”

  “How much worse can it be?”

  “With Nivaradros waiting? I don’t think you can imagine how much worse it could get,” Z told him. “You two never had lengthy interactions with each other and he still hated your guts. He also carried me to Arriandie the day you stabbed me.”

  Nicklyn flinched. “Are you willing to tell him to leave me alone?”

  “Do recall I asked Shanii to do that and consider how well he’s been following that request.”

  “And you’re ruling several kingdoms. Their unwillingness to obey you doesn’t concern you?”

  Snorting, Z ignored the question and bid goodbye to the Vyenrians as she clucked Shanii into a fast walk. Nicklyn fell instep beside her—keeping an eye on Shanii—and took her abrupt silence with more grace than usual. They traveled in silence for several hours, with Z taking mental notes of the windblown landscape. The snow here had been much lighter than most places, but with a lower elevation and drier terrain, it was to be expected. Regardless, for early spring there was far too much snow on the ground for her liking.

  “I wonder if Midestol could consider waiting until summer for war,” Z muttered under her breath—she meant the words for herself, but Shanii snorted his agreement.

  “I doubt it,” Nicklyn inserted. “He wants to fight you, yes, but he also wants to win.”

  “Have you forgotten how terrible his warriors are when there is any kind of difficult weather? World’s cruelest warriors turn into world’s biggest pansies.”

  “That’s not true,” Nicklyn protested.

  “Really? I distinctly remember fighting against your command when it began to sprinkle; half of your men ditched the field to go hide under a tree and the other half joined them when it began to hail.”

&n
bsp; “The hail—I will remind you—was the size of a plum.”

  “And that makes it alright to leave the field of battle because…?”

  Chapter 21

  Three weeks later they arrived in Arriandri. Shanii had managed to rip a chunk out of Nicklyn’s shoulder that morning, and the Wraith was in a rather sour mood due to his pain. As Z still wasn’t enjoying his company, she found his anger to her advantage. Riding into the city, Z found Arriandri was preparing itself for the war that was rumbling in the distance; the citizens had begun to spell the city against different types of attacks, and Z pitied any of Midestol’s forces who were foolish enough to venture into Alantaion lands.

  As they approached Arriandie, Z felt a familiar presence brush against her senses and urged Shanii ahead, leaving Nicklyn behind. Nivaradros stood at the edge of the courtyard with both the Mithane and the Shade a few feet behind him, but Z was so astonished at the Dragon’s appearance that she scarcely noticed their presence. Nivaradros was dressed not in his typical attire, but in Ranger attire. The skin-tight black clothing made him look all the more like the ruler he would be at her side as well as managing to separate him from his past. Nothing about him reminded her of his Warlord days.

  Reining Shanii in, she dismounted and moved toward Nivaradros confidently—aware her arrival had brought out any Alantaion who was free to watch her return. Nivaradros met her halfway. Swinging an arm over her shoulders, his eyes brightened considerably as Nicklyn appeared at the gates wheezing from what she presumed had been a sprint to catch up with her. Z was certain the Dragon would say something about Nicklyn’s arrival, but he surprised her. Nivaradros kissed her instead.

  Caught off guard, Z was nevertheless so used to the Dragon that she didn’t protest. Instead she relaxed and leaned against Nivaradros before stepping back as he did. She could feel his amusement and glanced over her shoulder at Nicklyn. The Wraith was white with rage and his hands were curled into fists. He had a problem with Nivaradros. Too bad for him. His opinion regarding her relationship with Nivaradros wasn’t important to her.