by Meagan Hurst
The globe vanished. “I see,” Midestol said mildly. “I will bring no one but you, you will be my leverage for good behavior.”
“She’s not going to save me if you try that game with her; she is a lot like me, Midestol.” It was the only warning she would give him.
“Where are we meeting them?” the Dark Mage asked as he ignored her warning entirely.
Mentally rolling her eyes, she told him, and she watched every nerve’s movement upon his face for a sign of his mood. He agreed to the spot and then strolled out of the tent before she could speak again. Only when she was certain he was gone did she speak again.
“Damn you, Crilyne,” she whispered. “Damn you to the depths of the oceans, I did not need this now.”
Chapter 10
She didn’t sleep. Nerves kept her from relaxing, and Nivaradros’s amulet’s pulsing bothered her for the first time since she had donned it. The slightly faster beat was soothing, but it did nothing to calm her, and instead Z got up and paced the rooms for hours. Midestol never returned, but his absence wasn’t a mystery—she heard the screams.
When the start of the day’s light began to creep through the sides of her pretty prison, Z sighed and ceased her attempt to create a permanent hole in the floor. Taking a seat on the cot, she tucked her knees under her chin and waited for Midestol’s return. She wondered how he would handle what he was about to find out, and then she wondered why she cared. No matter how he reacted to her, there was nothing that could or would change between them. Each of them had chosen a side, and nothing he said would change that.
She had, long ago, forced herself to avoid judging people by their past. She learned it, understood it, even hated it, but she endeavored to keep it separate from how she approached a person when times demanded it. She was uncertain she could continue to do that in this regard. Midestol’s past was already a struggle to handle; Midestol as a relative could cause her to fail to keep the barrier she had created to handle him in place. Yet there was a nagging curiosity within her now. Midestol had shown a protective—caring, almost—side in regard to the granddaughter he didn’t know. Z wasn’t sure what to think.
“It is time,” Midestol’s voice suddenly rang out smoothly.
Surprised she hadn’t heard him enter, Z glanced up at him dully and nodded. Since she hadn’t brought any other clothing and hadn’t bothered to undress, she headed to the flap he held aside for her. He let it fall silently behind her before turning to regard her in a dangerous silence. He didn’t speak, but nothing about his stance spoke of a threat—to her. She wondered who had upset him this morning, wondered if they were still alive. The remnants of the disaster two irate immortals had created the previous night had all but vanished. The ground was charred, but the fragments of tents, barrels, wagons, and bodies were long gone. Sighing slightly in relief, Z continued to follow Midestol. She was curious as to when his silence would end, mostly because she wasn’t certain how it would end.
“You didn’t sleep,” Midestol accused icily. With how the morning had been going so far, this break in the cold silence wasn’t a promising sign.
“I was spending the night in a tent that belongs to a man who has personally murdered millions of beings in the past ten millenniums and ordered or arranged for many others to meet their early deaths, and that’s just in this world. On top of it, I spent the night in the middle of a camp that had recently housed two beings I happen to somewhat like, and they were mere inches away from turning that campsite into the land of the dead. Shall I go on?”
It took her about thirty seconds to realize what she had just said. Cursing herself for her stupidity, Z waited for the inevitable explosion from Midestol, but to her disbelief, he just glanced at her and shrugged.
“I believe I followed,” was his only reply, and though his tone was annoyed, there was no threat in it. “Who is coming with Ksiria?”
It had been a silent—and small—hope that that question would never be voiced. “Nivaradros,” she told him shortly. Seeing Midestol’s eyes widen, Z sighed. “Apparently he feels obligated to protect her right now.”
Midestol snorted. “And you approve?”
“Short of killing him, there is little I could do to change the arrangement—and no, I have no intentions of killing the Dragon.”
Especially not after everything she had put him through lately. Her hand went to her chest, where the amulet still pulsed over her heart, and she suppressed a wince. She still didn’t know what he was after, but she did know he would do whatever it took to keep her alive until then. It wasn’t reassuring, but it wasn’t overly concerning either. With immortals, you accepted what they offered—because they could rarely be talked out of it—and you tried not to take offense at ninety percent of what they said.
Midestol scowled at her answer, but he didn’t reply. She took the lead about thirty minutes into the walk, and she could sense his eyes on her every movement. He was judging her condition, and she vaguely wondered if he had figured out that her seizures were now triggered by utter exhaustion in any form: too much magic, too much exercise, and possibly too much thought.
She felt him arm up with magic ten minutes after she had taken point. Deciding not to comment, she also declined to arm herself in any form. In part because she feared it would trigger a seizure. Since she was headed to safety—though it was almost a sad day when Nivaradros was considered ‘safe’—there wasn’t any need for her to carry protection. Unless Midestol decided to break his binding to attack her.
When their destination was in sight, Z let out a sigh of relief. She was exhausted, and her condition was now teetering towards delicate again. Nivaradros was waiting on the top of the small grassy hill, and he was in his native form. As a result, his tail coiled tightly around the lower parts of the hill, and Z doubted there was room for Midestol and her beside him. His giant head moved to view her the moment she cleared the last set of rocks that lined the path to the hill, and she saw his eyes soften in color for half a second before they began to blaze anew as Midestol stepped out behind her.
“I do not see Ksiria,” the Dark Mage accused darkly, grabbing her right arm and sending magic coursing through her veins.
“It’s hard to see anyone else with the Dragon’s presence being a masking agent,” Z managed to say between her clenched lips as Midestol dragged her closer to the Dragon before suddenly stopping. The twinges of a seizure began and she could only hope it didn’t fully strike.
“Nivaradros, don’t!” she added sharply as the Dragon’s talons began to dig into the earth beneath them as though the ground wasn’t dry and hard from drought.
He paused, but his eyes blazed. “Let her go,” he hissed tightly at Midestol. With the distance between them, it was a testament to the power of a Dragon’s voice that the order could be easily heard despite the low tone used.
“Not until I know this isn’t a trap. Where is Ksiria? Where is my granddaughter?” Midestol demanded. “Tell me, Warlord, or I will crush Zimliya’s throat.”
“That’ll get you on her good side,” the Dragon sneered before nodding at Z, who was standing patiently within Midestol’s dangerous hold. When Midestol’s orange eyes narrowed, Nivaradros sighed. “You don’t get it, do you? Zimliya is your granddaughter, you idiotic mortal mage!”
Midestol released her at once. Z sidestepped away from him and hurried to the Dragon’s side. Nivaradros’s right wing extended until it could wrap around her and then it snapped back to his side, bringing her quickly, but gently, to him. Warmth quickly encircled her form and she leaned against the Dragon with relief. Her tremors slowly began to settle, and she sank even deeper against the Dragon.
The Dark Mage was watching her intently and with a hint of surprise and disbelief. As both were much preferred over anger, Z let out a soft sigh and waited for someone to speak again.
“Impossible,” Midestol declared softly a few minutes after Nivaradros’s words. He studied her, but he didn’t seem furious over what he’d been told.
“Actually, it’s not,” Nivaradros countered. “But if you would prefer, I can call myself your granddaughter. There are just the small details of different sex, race, and oh, age that you would have to overlook, but I am sure it could be done.”
Z cringed. It had been a while since Nivaradros had been that sarcastic. He also generally followed it up with worse until things escalated into battle. Since she didn’t really want a fight between Midestol and the Dragon to start now, she sighed and added her voice to the conversation.
“Why do you think my other grandfather was so determined on my demise? Or torturing me? Or handing me over to you so you could kill me. He hated my existence, Midestol. And he hated me because I was a reminder of whom Prince Kevei had married.”
“He hated you,” Midestol inserted smoothly, “because you were a direct reminder of me. You carry—I shall discover if it is true or not—my blood. My magic. You had the potential for my talents. He was never going to allow you to survive. It is why your parents were both willing to come to my lands and live there. He had ordered his son to kill his wife and you, or just you. Your father refused, and your mother—my daughter—sought my help.”
She took a step away from Nivaradros, and he let her, but she paused just out of reach of Midestol. “You claim you didn’t kill them.”
“It was my men who murdered them,” Midestol replied angrily, “but those were not the orders I sent them with. My Lianneta knew what was at stake, so she beseeched her husband to give life in my lands a chance. She had already asked me if I would allow you to survive—to grow—and I had already agreed. I was angry in her choice for a husband, yes, but your father was talented in magic, talented in fighting, and exceptionally intelligent. I knew there was potential for you to be something that had never been seen before, and I wanted the chance to see it manifest. And Lianneta was my daughter, she wanted you, and I could not deny her the right to have you.”
It was the Dragon who broke the deadly silence. “And the former King of Tenia?” he breathed as the end of his tail tapped the ground dangerously.
“As I already stated, he attempted to get the prince to get his wife to miscarry, or to slay the abomination—his words, not mine—she carried when it was born. Naturally I was unpleased to learn of this,” Midestol drawled with a cutting smile. “But the prince kept nothing from Lianneta, and she kept little from me when it had to do with dangers to her and Kevei. She asked for my aid, and I agreed, but the prince drove a hard bargain that nearly broke the deal.”
“What did he want?” Z pressed when Midestol fell silent, apparently lost in the memory. It was difficult to see him like this. If anyone—anyone—had told her Midestol would act like this, she wouldn’t have believed it. She almost couldn’t accept it now.
“The ability to pull you from my grasp at any time, and to be present during any and all lessons I gave you—or ordered you to have. He didn’t want you to end up like me—or your mother—but he was willing to acknowledge you would need training if any of the talents and magic you presumably would inherit did take hold. He wasn’t a teacher. He knew that as well, so he agreed to let me instruct you, but he wanted a hand in your education so you would hopefully end up ‘good,’ as he termed it.”
Midestol’s smile was bitter. “I agreed, and then planned to have him meet his end in an accident once you and Lianneta were settled in my lands. That was my original plan, but my daughter knew me well and changed things more to her liking. She told me that if anything happened to Kevei, she would take you and leave. Obviously, I did not want that, so instead of planning to kill your father I ended up wasting time making sure I could keep him alive and well enough.”
Since she could imagine how difficult it would have been to keep her father alive—had he ever made it to Midestol’s lands—she could easily comprehend the difficulty Midestol had been working with. Not to mention the agitation he had probably been suppressing over the son of one of his enemies living in his lands as a free man. Still, for anyone with a heart or a sense of morals, it wouldn’t have been difficult at all. Forcing herself to remember Midestol for who he was, Z distanced herself mentally and took a step back into the Dragon’s shadow.
Midestol saw her move and his smile was slightly cutting. “I take it there is too much water under the bridge?”
“The bridge,” Z replied in a cold and emotionless tone, “was swept away over a decade ago, and the waters that did it have only gotten higher since then.”
“Ah,” the Dark Mage replied with a nod of his head. “Not even knowing I searched for you would help?”
“My life has been difficult,” Z snapped. “You started it by killing my parents.”
“I did not mean for them to die!” Midestol howled at her. “My men were sent to gather them—and you—and bring them safely to my lands, but apparently the former King of Tenia wouldn’t accept that! He had someone countermand my orders and my men were foolish enough to go with it. The damage was done while I sat waiting in the house my daughter had picked out for the three of you. I learned too late, Ksiria—”
“Zimliya,” she corrected icily.
Midestol glanced at her, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge her words. “They are dead,” he told her flatly. “But their deaths were far too short, given the damage they did.” She realized he spoke of the men he had sent and held her tongue. “I did look for you,” he added softly. “But as you were less than a week old, and since I had not yet seen you, I had little chance of finding you. My spies heard nothing but of your death, and it wasn’t until the fourteen-year-old bitch showed up on my lands claiming to be you that I had another lead to follow. Even then there was little. You hide your magic so well, and it is so different from Lianneta’s—”
“She is an Arbais mage,” Nivaradros inserted coldly. “And as such she wouldn’t be anything like your daughter.”
Midestol ignored Nivaradros completely. “Thinking back on all the times we have met, I should have known you,” he said quietly as his eyes shaded to their amber and read her intently. “You reminded me of her—hells, even of the prince—with your actions, your words, and your power.” His eyes held hers, and then he sighed and reached into a pocket. “But all of this could be a very well-played game on your end. I wish to ascertain, beyond a doubt, who you are. Come here.”
Nivaradros growled softly when she moved forward again, but she had nothing to fear from Midestol now. As she reached a distance that was close enough for him to touch her, but far enough away that he would have to reach, she paused. The ancient mortal mage pulled out a delicately carved bracelet and held it out to her. Seeing her brow rise slightly, he smiled.
“A ring is slightly out of fashion at the moment,” he explained. “You don’t keep up with trends, but I was unsure of whether or not Ksiria would. It performs the same purpose as the ring, and if you are attempting to lie to me you will find your lifespan will be measurable in seconds.”
Snorting, Z extended her left hand and rolled up her sleeve to display an unadorned, but scarred, wrist. “My lifespan is already measured in seconds,” she muttered as he placed the silver chain over her wrist and clasped the ends together.
Nothing happened. No instant death and no brilliant display of light. Instead, the bracelet lay calmly against her skin as though there was nothing magical about it, which she knew was false, because she had sensed the damn thing the whole way here. Glancing at Midestol, she could see his eyes shifting back to orange. Apparently, the bracelet was supposed to put on a light show of some kind. Reaching over with her right hand, she lightly traced the interwoven strands of pure silver and felt a slight shudder in the metal as she did so. A moment later the light began, but it was a soft, peaceful glow of power, and it surrounded her protectively. The warmth it brought she surrendered to with caution, but when nothing bad came about, she relaxed completely and let the spell examine her closely.
“Soooo,” Midestol murmured softly in seeming amazement. “You are who
you say.” He watched her with surprise and a hidden emotion she couldn’t name. He approached her then and raised his hand to her face. She didn’t even move when it made contact. “Granddaughter,” he murmured in disbelief. “After all this time.”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” she said stiffly, ruining the moment by stepping away. “This doesn’t make everything between us vanish.”
“Oh, that I do know,” Midestol breathed with a small smile. “But now this makes this even more enjoyable. You have always been a formidable, impressive, and surprising opponent; this should only make things more interesting.” He watched her without blinking, and then sighed and shook his head. “You have united the races I strove for four millenniums to break apart. You’ve repaired that damage and more within a decade. The heirs of all the kingdoms are remarkable, and the bond between them makes them dangerous in a way their elders never were. Again, it is extraordinary.”
He glanced at Nivaradros. “And you seem to have earned the double-sided respect of the most powerful and dangerous Dragon to have ever walked this world, and possibly most of the other worlds where Dragons exist as well.”
Nivaradros snorted but managed to keep from insulting Midestol with obvious effort. “If we’re through—” he growled after an extended silence had passed.
Z glanced at Midestol. “I am,” she said quietly.
Turning to the Dragon, she felt Midestol’s hand touch her shoulder, and she reacted without thought. Kicking her left leg out sharply behind her, she grabbed Midestol’s wrist, rolled under his grasp, and threw him to the side as her right leg connected with his knees. It was a fluid, singular motion, and it was fast enough he didn’t have time to reply.
She expected anger from him; she got laughter instead. It was a deep laugh that had no condescension and, more importantly, no rage behind it. Midestol got to his feet slowly and brushed the strands of grass his fall had broken from his knees.
“I probably deserved that,” he admitted evenly. But his eyes were dangerous, and he quickly stepped away from Nivaradros when he realized the Dragon was within snapping distance of him.