by Meagan Hurst
Sabaias was the first to speak after a pause. “What are our losses at this point?” he inquired.
“Midestol’s lost thirty-five thousand troops. We’ve lost three hundred and twenty-six thousand beings, mostly those who are not part of the war. The vast majority of them were human civilians,” she added. “The sole remaining human kingdom—this of course does not include the Ranger lands—is Tezérac. The other human kingdoms have been destroyed. Several of the rulers have perished. Any survivors have been relocated.”
“Tezérac has likely been spared because it’s located near here,” Shalion said with a snort. “Midestol has no interest in meeting us on the field, yet. Destroying morale by slaughtering those who have chosen to remain behind seems to be his game. What are you doing with the homeless?”
“They have been taken—even those of other races—into the Ranger lands. They will remain there until the war is over. Anyone who wishes to learn to use a weapon and join the fighting force is receiving training from both the Rangers and from the few immortals who have chosen to mingle with Ranger forces.”
Shalion raised a brow. “The Rangers have remained fairly isolated despite your efforts. How are they handling the influx of beings in their lands?”
“This is not the first time we’ve done this,” Z and Daryien chorused. Catching Daryien’s eye, Z fell silent and let the Ranger take over the conversation.
“Due to our suspicion of the Alliance, there is very little you know about our people. Including how many cities, villages, and even locations that could be considered small kingdoms the Rangers have. You are also not aware of our numbers. We have room for everyone, and we’re using living arrangements to keep most of the kingdoms separate from each other. Preserving the sanity of all involved is one of our highest priorities.” The Ranger met everyone’s eyes. “But, despite our willingness to aid the Alliance, we will not offer ourselves up for slaughter. We haven’t sent out even a fraction of our army, but judging by the losses we have already sustained, I feel at least half of the Ranger army will be lost in this war. We are anticipating the loss of three-quarters. The last time Midestol made a similar play for the world, he did not use his full force, and he tried to conquer us through division. He lost, but he’s had a millennium to build up greater forces than he had in the past, and they are scattered throughout his lands and a few worlds.
“Not to mention his creatures. The wards will fall—he will shatter them—when he brings his army as a whole to attack us. We have no idea what he has been crafting in the darkness of his lands. Z’s run across some of them, but I wouldn’t put it past him to have hundreds of unknown mixed creatures. Midestol also has an unnamed ally who can throw things at us we’ve never seen before.”
“Meaning you believe we will fall,” Sabaias said shortly, speaking for the masses.
“Meaning,” Z countered as she took the conversation from Daryien, “that it is going to take everything we have to win this war. It will be a war like nothing recorded in history. We could lose—I am not going to offer false promises or hope. We very well could lose. At the very least, some of the races of this world will perish. But the only option we have is to fight. Fleeing the world would only allow Midestol to continue to grow his army, and we would not be able to choose some of the terms we have available. We would have less of a chance to win. As difficult as this may be, this is our best chance.”
“Then what, do tell, are you asking of us?” Lyrasan asked softly.
“I am asking you to surrender the entirety of your forces into my hands. If you hold back—if any of you hold back—we will lose this war. We cannot fight as separate races. We must become one army. We have no advantages other than magical knowledge and the better fighting abilities of the immortals. Midestol doesn’t have immortal fighters, that we know of. But that could change, and we need to be prepared for that possibility. Midestol has also been known to summon creatures from other places he should not. I have the scars to prove it. The Rangers, however, have been trained to fight such a threat.”
“As,” the Mithane inserted softly, “have the Alantaions.”
She nodded before facing those gathered. “Once before I asked all of the kingdoms who joined me on a field to blend their armies with each other, enabling us to have the greatest chance of survival. I am asking for the same today, but on a wider scale. If everyone is fighting for themselves—trying to get the upper hand for the future over another race—we will lose. If we lose all your scheming means nothing. You will not exist—if you even survive at all—in a way that you could use it. I will not be on the field for long,” she added bitterly. “I am going to be fighting Midestol. Nivaradros will be commanding in my stead. If you are considering anything antagonistic, I will warn you he has my permission to terminate your existence. This is not a war you can play small games of power in; this is all or nothing. If you cannot fight in this manner, allow the Alliance fair warning. I am, for the record, reading every thought in this room. I cannot have even the slightest bit of doubt. I need these armies to be under one command, and I need that command to be Nivaradros’s. The Dragons have agreed to send their fighters already, and we had this same discussion with them. Two-thousand Dragons will be flying and all two-thousands of them are aware that any one of you may give them orders, but that they are sworn to serve Nivaradros for the duration of this war.”
There was a fair amount of surprise generated by that statement. “How did you pull that off?” Lyrasan demanded to know.
Nivaradros chuckled. “Last time we visited the Isle they made the mistake of upsetting Zimliya. They’ve decided they want to keep their other mountains.”
Chapter 23
There was about a five second silence before the room exploded with voices demanding for an explanation. Z gave Nivaradros a dark look but raised her hands to draw their attention back to her. All voices ceased at her motion, and Z swallowed her frustrated words. “Yes,” she said before anyone could ask. “The Dragon Court and I had a disagreement when we visited. They wanted to execute Nivaradros despite the backing he had received from several races and I was offended by their decision. When asking them to change their mind didn’t work I decided to be slightly more…convincing.”
“Meaning?” Lyrasan demanded.
“I may have brought down their hall through the mountain around it,” Z said innocently as she picked up a glass of wine Nivaradros had placed in front of her. Swirling it with little intention of actually drinking, Z eyed those gathered in the room. “They tried to kill us,” she explained. “I wasn’t in the mood to play games and trying to reason with them was akin to trying to reason with any one of you when you have set your mind on something. Recall how long it took you to stop bringing your armies to the Alliance despite how often I informed you their presence was not required.”
She saw several rather guilty faces among the mortals; the immortals barely allowed her to sense their mild embarrassment. “When they decided to attack, I decided to retaliate. They got the picture surprisingly quickly considering how long Dragon tempers typically last.”
“Remind me not to threaten your Dragon,” she heard one of the immortals mutter in the back.
“As if you need reminding.” Z glanced at her allies and subjects—if she wanted to claim her titles. “I will open the floor to discussions that tie into the war.”
By the time the meeting came to a close, Z was feeling mentally drained. Five arguments she had had nothing to do with had started, and in the end, Z had turned to the wine Nivaradros had offered her at the beginning of their discussions. Unfortunately, no amount of alcohol ended up being helpful, and Z was disgusted to find out she was still immune to the effects of drinking. Since she hated the taste, it had always seemed unfair that the stuff didn’t even work right.
Nivaradros was amused at her disgust. Once everyone else had left to go about their duties—assigned or assumed—Nivaradros picked her up and carried her out of the room. “I need to talk
with Shevieck,” she muttered after having lost the argument over whether or not he could carry her.
“It can wait,” Nivaradros replied. “You need to unwind. Otherwise you will insult him and, unlike those with whom you just met, he will take offense.”
“They took offense.”
“They did, but they also considered it a twisted form of affection from you. I believe the majority of them were almost beaming when you were finished. I would have considered it impossible to please so many while thoroughly insulting them, but you have that gift when you choose to use it.” Nivaradros slowed as his way was blocked by Shalion. Of all the heirs, Nivaradros yielded most to Shalion, and Z had a feeling the Dragon would allow Shalion to make errors only she could also make and still survive.
Shalion’s eyes flickered to hers and he smiled. “Nivaradros, may I borrow Z for a few hours?” His eyes were uneasy and shifting to orange, but he held his ground as Nivaradros’s eyes brightened.
“I suppose,” the Dragon said before gently setting her down. He inclined his head to the Ryelention and picked up her hand to offer it to Shalion in an almost formal seeming manner. “I trust you—to a point—with her.”
“And I appreciate that,” Shalion replied in a solemn voice. He accepted her hand as he bowed to Nivaradros. “I promise to watch after her. Or did you mean watch out for her?”
Z nudged Shalion in the ribs. “I don’t believe I have ever viciously attacked you.”
“Not as you attacked Sabaias, no,” Shalion agreed with a smug smile. “I wish you had made that scar on his neck bigger.”
“I was fourteen!” Z cried as she whacked him on the arm. “He tried to kill me,” she added.
“After you saved him. He does regret that. He mentions it often,” Shalion added. “I admit I was surprised to learn he was interested in Kitra, since his outlook on mortals generally unfavorable, but he had been around Z for several years by then. Z tends to change people that way.”
“Z is standing right here,” Z said sourly as the two of them flashed her innocent smiles. “Let’s go, Shalion. Before you two decide to remind me of something else I did foolishly.”
Nivaradros chuckled and inclined his head to her. “I will speak with Shevieck. No, I won’t kill him,” he rushed to assure her as she tensed. “I looked after him while you were missing from the world. I managed not to kill him during that difficult experience. I am certain I can avoid surrendering to the temptation tonight.”
“This coming from the Dragon who wanted to leave him to poisonous plants and the creatures.”
Eyes calm, Nivaradros shrugged. “It would have made things much easier but, quite honestly, letting him die wouldn’t have changed much. He used to be worse. I recall numerous times when he got captured or disappeared and you put your life was at risk to rescue him. I recall,” the Dragon added as his voice dropped, “helping you out when you were not injured, but blind and yet you still went after him.”
“I can’t believe you came to help me.”
Nivaradros snorted. “Your skills were compromised; how could I have refused to aid you?” Crossing his arms, the Dragon glanced at Shalion and hesitated before explaining. “Z was adjusting to being blind and Shevieck had gotten himself captured by Midestol’s second—at that time—in command. She was determined to help Shevieck, and it was the one time the rest of her allies refused to help, but they didn’t—none of you did—try to stop her from going on her own. She contacted me,” he continued in a voice that was lost in memory, “and while I pretended to be agreeing reluctantly, I was not about to let her go in by herself. I couldn’t be at her side since I was unwilling to shift to this form, but I could cover her and I could carry her to safety. And the immortal.”
Z sighed, but knew he was correct. She had been desperate to be useful following the loss of her vision, and she had rushed out to help Shevieck. Trusting her talents to aid her, she had been hurt when her allies had refused to assist her, but she had pushed forward despite that. Nivaradros had been the only being she had reached out to who had told her to go ahead and he would be there to aid her when she came out. She had suspected he would bail on her—or just let her fail—and when she had emerged wounded but with Shevieck, she had been shocked when her senses had located him. She had been astounded when he had flown down to pick her and the Alantaion heir up gently in his talons.
But the thing that had been most unlike him was that when she had yelled at him to turn back, he had obeyed without question. Z lost herself to the past and recalled the feel of the wind on her face as the Dragon had turned back and glided until he could release her gently to the ground—letting her land on her feet. She had told him she wanted to fight Midestol’s second and she had expected Nivaradros to disagree. Instead he had encouraged her to try, and Z remembered the heat of the fire that had encircled her as he had willingly offered her protection she hadn’t asked for or expected. That day, those actions, had been the major reason she had decided Nivaradros wasn’t what everyone else saw, regardless of the side he had shown when Veilantras had first introduced them. She had never spoken to anyone of that day. She had sworn Shevieck—bound him with magic—to silence. All anyone knew was that Midestol had lost a few hundred of his forces and his second-in-command to a blind mortal teenager and a Dragon.
“Z?” Shalion called.
Shaking herself free of the past she smiled. “Sorry,” she told him. “I was just remembering that event. Nivaradros was…” she offered the Dragon a smile. “You were you,” she murmured with a laugh.
“Indeed. Please go, before I decide not to allow you to leave.” Nivaradros’s eyes met hers, and she could see he was also reminiscing about those three days.
Gesturing for Shalion to lead the way, she headed out of Arriandie with him until they reached the stables. Shanii was waiting for them in front of the stall Shalion’s mare was stabled in. While Shanii absolutely refused to be stabled, he was not opposed to being in the aisles while one of Z’s companions tacked up their mounts. Most of the immortals had likewise ‘bonded’ with one of Shanii’s race or one of their immortal cousins, and since most of Shanii’s race was laid-back, the immortals had more flexibility with their mounts than she did. Shanii, for example, would never tolerate even a bridle. He tolerated her and he put up with her packs, but that had come with time.
Despite his strong views, Shanii didn’t look down on his own kind when there was a difference in opinion, and he more than tolerated the lesser kind of his race. The average horse knew what Shanii was, but while they shied away from others of his race, Shanii seemed to be someone they trusted. She had seen him protectively guide foals during storms. He didn’t particularly like to, but he had, nonetheless.
“Hey handsome,” she murmured as Shanii nickered happily. Shalion moved around the stallion—carefully—to get to his mare. Reaching Shanii’s side herself, she looked him over out of habit. She had been raised to check for injuries to horses and having Shanii as her constant mount hadn’t cured her of it. It helped that he seemed to enjoy her attentiveness.
Grooms and stable hands moved warily around him, but for once Shanii ignored them and waited for Shalion to go through the decidedly average process of tacking up his mare. “Sorry,” the Ryelention offered to both her and Shanii as he returned to the stall laden once again with pieces of tack. “They don’t seem to have a full set of tack that will fit Qyalnia!”
Shanii snorted as Z laughed aloud at his suggestion. “He says,” she explained as Shalion shot her a dark look. “That you could always try riding her with nothing. He points out that I haven’t died yet.”
“Not for a lack of him trying either,” Shalion muttered as he gave Shanii a dark look. He did, however, give up. “You win,” he told Shanii directly. “We will go without tack of any kind because I want to speak with Zimliya and I can’t if we never leave the damned barn.”
Shanii’s ears flattened against his head and Z’s suspicion that the stallion was communi
cating with Shalion directly was confirmed when Shalion gave him a very dark look. “I am not foolish enough to argue with a Dragon; I am well aware of Nivaradros’s claim and I am not interested in attempting to break it.” Ryelention eyes found hers. “I think he rather likes the Dragon.”
“That does seem to be the general consensus, yes,” she agreed.
“As I happen to find myself growing fond of Nivaradros, Shanii’s fears are unfounded. I would never step between you.” Shalion interrupted the conversation by having Qyalnia kick open her stall door, causing Z to laugh at the horrified looks on the Alantaion faces who happened to be nearby when the door left its hinges.
Leaping onto Shanii’s back, Z tried not to continue to laugh as Qyalnia very pointedly stepped on her stall door before picking up a prance and continuing her display as she left the barn. Shanii grumbled as he likewise stepped on the stall door, but he didn’t bother to add any flare to his stride. Z got the distinct impression he considered Qyalnia’s actions those of a juvenile. She decided not to comment on everything he did that could likewise be considered acts of an adolescent. She didn’t feel like getting thrown.
Shalion led the way. He took not a previously made path, but rather turned and took her deep into the forest. Curious—Shanii was concerned—she begged Shanii to follow, though his concern was well founded. The forests that surrounded Arriandri were beautiful and anything but peaceful; the grasses were known to be deadly in certain areas. It alarmed most humans, but it amused her.