When Forces Rise

by Meagan Hurst

  “I believe that is everything,” the Mithane assured her. “Until they get here. They are mortal after all. Things always change when you deal with mortals.”

  Pressing her lips together to bite back the urge to remind him she had been one until recently, Z followed the Mithane and the Shade into the room; Nivaradros followed her. Chairs had been arranged so the immortals would be seated across from the Ranger party. It wasn’t to her personal taste, but Z didn’t comment. If it became a problem she could adjust things. Counting the chairs across from them as she took a seat, Z realized this wasn’t an average party size.

  “Did they say anything to you, Mithane, regarding what this meeting was to be about?” she inquired with a chill in her voice.

  “No. And, Zimliya, do be slightly less formal. I have a name.”

  “Formality will be required when the—”

  “You are hiding behind it and it is insulting. Drop it.”

  “Evieck,” she sighed in surrender. She could feel the Shade’s concern and brushed it away. After everything he had done, he really didn’t have the right to try and protect her as though nothing had happened. And she didn’t require his protection.

  The Mithane’s eyes met hers for a minute. “Before you leave with the Dragons, I would like to speak with you in private.”

  “As you wish,” she replied before falling silent as the sound of multiple footsteps could be heard. It was, as the chairs had implied, a party of twenty-five. As the average size was the more modest number of five, Z had no idea what to expect from this group.

  When the Rangers began to file into the room, though, Z found she knew all of them quite well. In theory, she knew all of her people; in practice she some of them only by name. These Rangers, however, she had fought with, trained alongside, worked with, and grown up around. And Ryedrin was among them. She didn’t know what was the purpose of sending Rangers she knew. She could only hope whoever had sent them had known what they were doing.

  “Hiya, Z.”

  Freezing at the sound of a voice she hadn’t heard since Kitra had first taken her to the practice courts the Rangers trained on, Z reached out with magic to check the identity of the speaker without stopping to think about it. Her magic responded at once; it was who it sounded like. Letting out a soft cry, Z moved past the other Rangers to hug the man who had been one of a select few to back Kitra when the former le Tribarn had brought her into the training courts.

  “Daryien!” she cried with delight, shocked to discover he was alive, and more importantly, here. She hadn’t seen him since he had left Triential during her second year with the Rangers—and that had been a brief visit, as he had only been riding through from the main city.

  Daryien’s hazel eyes rounded with his surprise as he fiercely returned the hug he had just been offered. “Isn’t this a welcomed change. Contact, who would have thought.” He smiled as he released her and let his eyes scan her as she stepped back. “You look good—very good. I admit I had my doubts about what your condition would be with all the changes and events you have recently experienced.”

  His gaze moved to the Alantaion in the room. “Mithane,” he greeted with a formal Alantaion bow. “Thank you for allowing us to drop in.”

  The Mithane inclined his head—eyes at their calmest although they displayed his disbelief over her rather exuberant greeting. “It is always a pleasure to host Rangers. You are the reason the rest of the human population is tolerated after all.” His eyes danced to show he was joking—mostly.

  The older Ranger laughed aloud. “Semi-tolerated,” he corrected. Clearly he and the Mithane had met before. “You’ve done a wonderful job with our Z.”

  “Ah, I wish I could take the credit for her openness, but I believe the real being behind that is Nivaradros.”

  A chill filled the air as Daryien turned to regard Nivaradros—as he knew Crilyne and the Mithane, there was no way he could mistake the Dragon. “So. The rumors are true.”

  “Some of them are built on parts of the truth,” Nivaradros responded in a cool, but still respectful tone. Z was relieved Nivaradros seemed willing to play polite Dragon. “Z…who is this?”

  “I am not going to repeat his name, you caught it. But he was one of my earlier teachers with the Rangers. He was also one of the very, very few who backed Kitra in her decision to allow me to go into training with weapons.”

  “While you were still randomly attacking people for existing?”

  Z felt her expression sour. “Indeed.”

  “They must have thought he was insane. Welcome, Daryien. What brings you to Arriandie?”

  Chapter 6

  It soon became clear Daryien was the uncontested leader of the Ranger party. Even Ryedrin didn’t bat an eye when Daryien took control of the meeting, despite the fact Z was positive this whole idea had been her former student’s. The remaining twenty-three Rangers likewise seemed unfazed, other than fixing Crilyne with black stares. Ryedrin was slightly warmer to Crilyne by offering him a stiff nod. Daryien, however, only had eyes for the Dragon.

  Z opened her mouth to break the mood, but Nivaradros signaled her lightly with his magic to stand down. She was to leave this to him. She agreed, and fell silent. Watching the Dragon eye the oldest of the Rangers, she waited for someone to speak.

  “Feel free to begin,” Nivaradros sighed after a few minutes had passed. “I can wait forever, but I believe if you tried to match me, you would expire before you managed to speak with Z. You have—as almost everyone else does—an issue with me being around Zimliya. I have grown used to the threats, anger, attacks, and insults. Perhaps you will manage to be more impressive than the mortals and immortals who have spoken before you.”

  Daryien’s eyes flashed. “You don’t deserve her,” he began.

  “And I’ve been told this multiple times. Is that all you have? I should hope not or else this will be a very boring conversation, and I will warn you Dragons are rather dangerous when bored. Tread with care, Rangers are not known to like fire any more than most mortals.”

  Oh how she wanted to kick him. Both of them come to think of it. She didn’t, however, get between the two. It was clear Nivaradros was taunting Daryien on purpose, and she was curious to find out why. Not to mention she was also tired of this. If she was to be allowed to make choices that would shape the world, she surely could pick someone she trusted and cared for.

  “With your past, your temper, and your race, Dragon, you have no right to be awarded the title ‘friend.’ You have destroyed whole races. Burned villages and cities to the ground with the inhabitants given no warning, no chance, and no mercy. You are an outcast of your kind. You have slain even them. You’ve tried to kill Zimliya several times!” The last was said with a heat that could have burned if Daryien had added a pinch of magic to his voice, and Z saw Nivaradros’s brow rise.

  “I am what I am,” Nivaradros agreed. “But you know nothing about me, mortal. I didn’t attempt to kill Zimliya; I tested her. And for some damn reason I am the only one who gets the flame for that. I am not the only immortal to challenge her in a fight were her failure would equal death. I am not the only being to offer such a test. Yet, for some reason, everyone else isn’t judged by that. Just as everyone else seems to be forgiven for their pasts!”

  Rising from his chair, Nivaradros approached the Rangers with so much rage behind him that Z could almost see it in the air around him. “There seems to be some pact between all the races that involves blaming me for every single act I have been a part of, executed on my own, or am suspected of. The Alantaions have slaughtered mortals like sheep, yet you have an alliance with them. The Islierre’s people tortured, raped, and pillaged among the human and mortal kingdoms surrounding his, but no one raises a question or calls him on it. The former Thinyen enslaved three mortal kingdoms for seven centuries and damn near killed Zimliya, and not a hand or word from the Rangers was directed at the Dralantions. My race has eaten, savaged, dominated, and burned whole races from exi
stence, and even they are considered allies. The whole damn world turned their backs on you when you were all being hunted into extinction, but you forgave everyone at Zimliya’s request, bringing the Alliance back to the world. The Shade slaughtered your Council and is responsible for more deaths than I could commit even if I had his span of years behind me. And despite it all, I am the constant target of choice!”

  The Dragon’s eyes were a neon Z had only seen burn once before and she could tell it was taking all of his restraint not to attack Daryien. He was holding back for her and her alone. He also, she knew, was choosing his words with care. The Rangers would spread them; the Shade and the Mithane would spread them. Nivaradros wanted this put to rest at long last, and he had decided this was the moment he would bury it.

  “You are a mortal. What comes from your life is measured not by a time span, but by how your people remember you. You see the world as an hourglass; the sand will always run out. The concept that creatures, beings, empires, and worlds can be made, destroyed, re-made, overthrown, and lost in time does not exist to you. My past is my past, but it is a part of me as well. It does not define all of me and I am tired of being held accountable when no one else is. Need I remind you Z helped destroy an entire kingdom with over five million humans living within it?”

  “That was under entirely different circumstances than your—”

  “To you,” Nivaradros snapped. “To others—to someone—it is the same as what I have done, and in the end, Mortal, it does not matter. This was and is Z’s decision. She has chosen me. Accept it. If you cannot, then stay quiet. You know little about me, and if you cannot trust me, then trust the woman you appear to still hold in high regard and follow.”

  “And just what have you done to prove yourself?” Daryien demanded.

  She was done being silent. “He came when I had fallen in battle and assumed his lesser form so he could aid me. He has kept that form throughout all of this. It was due to his insistence that I’ve allowed the Mithane to heal me. When it came time to deal with Tenia…he was at my side. He tolerated the Heirs, the magic, my temper, my fear, the Shades, and he was the only person who didn’t declare me deceased when my actions in Tenia had drained my life.”

  Closing her eyes, she continued. “He protected Shevieck while I was away fulfilling a bargain of which I could tell none of you. He did not know if I would return, yet he protected the Mithani. When I did return he was patient, supportive. He shielded me from strikes twice before the Mithane was attacked, and when we were separated by duty he brought the Mithani along without me asking. My time was up, Daryien, the bargain I had struck to awaken the Shades caught up with me. It was Nivaradros—no one else—who refused to surrender me to death. You have no idea what he went through to keep me alive.”

  “Zimliya—”

  “I am not finished!” Her voice was white-hot with rage, and even Nivaradros shifted because of it. “When I became immortal Nivaradros was one of the very, very few who reacted positively to the news. He shielded me when I refused protection. The temper, arrogance, and disgust he has for the rest of the world he has held in abeyance for me. It was the Dragon who has changed Midestol’s and my relationship to its complicated, but useful form. Nivaradros who took arrows in an attempt to protect an army I needed and cared about; a choice that almost cost him his life. And when I was struck down with two of those same arrows, it was his care that ensured my survival. The Shade kept me alive, but without Nivaradros, Daryien, I would not be standing here.”

  Pausing, she exhaled and let some of her anger escape with it. “I would request all of you to undergo a binding vow of silence for what Nivaradros will mention next,” she demanded.

  The Rangers blinked in surprise, but Ryedrin was quick to agree, and everyone else did the same. When their oaths had been taken, Z glanced at the Dragon who was still seething beside her. He nodded and took the conversation from her without pause. She owed him for what he was about to do.

  “This form, I am bound to it. It was what I surrendered to reach Zimliya’s side in time.”

  Absolute silence filled the room at the Dragon’s words. Breath wasn’t even drawn for more than a minute. Daryien found his voice first and spoken in a hushed whisper. “You cannot…ever?”

  “Indeed.”

  Daryien’s eyes closed in pain. “Nivaradros…I…never would have asked that of you.”

  “No,” the Dragon agreed, and with that word Z saw most of his anger leave. Daryien’s had vanished; what the Ranger had left was regret for his original words. “But I accepted these limitations freely. I swear to you, Ranger, I have no ulterior motive. What I want is what you see before you.”

  Daryien’s eyes remained closed. “I will make sure it is known. I will spread all but what I am bound against revealing.”

  “I would appreciate it. But I believe Zimliya is exasperated with our topic, and I am past that point.” Nivaradros resumed his seat as though nothing had happened and glanced over at her. “Shall we see if the Shade is next on the flaying list?”

  There were whole days she wished he wasn’t right about things. Daryien’s anger was quelled and he took his seat in silence, but he wasn’t the only Ranger present, and although Ryedrin didn’t get involved, there were others who were quick to accuse both Crilyne and her of wrongdoing.

  The desire to defend her decisions was slight. Remaining silent, she just listened to the accusations with the same detached manner she had used in the gathering of the Rangers after the massacre of the rest of the Council. She had no defense—in her mind—that they would accept, and she didn’t feel like wasting words. Crilyne, however, was at least willing to speak his mind.

  “I murdered them,” he began when the accusations took a pause. “I will not argue or deny that. I slaughtered them in—as the mortals’ say—cold blood. I will not cheapen their deaths by trying to make my actions any more or less than what they were. I do not regret my decision and I have no grief for the loss of those lives. In my mind it needed to be done, and I will not waste your time by explaining my actions. In the end, what you feel does not matter.” He paused to let those icy words sink in. “It changes nothing. Your anger is wasted on me. You cannot harm me. The sole being whose opinion and judgment does matter has already given me both; yours doesn’t impact me in any form.

  “You are also not here to battle or deal with me. You are here to speak with Zimliya. She is listening. She has been waiting. If you are done wasting your time—you cannot waste ours because we have the time to waste—then perhaps you will speak of what brought you here.”

  For a minute there was a dangerous silence, but Ryedrin broke it before Z could. “We are here to offer our support to the de la Nepioa.”

  The feel of the room shifted to shock; she wasn’t the only one experiencing it. “I denounced that title!” she snapped.

  “You did, but we did not accept it before you fled; we have not accepted it in your absence. You are still the de la Nepioa.”

  “I am not!” she snarled, noticing her pain escaped into those words.

  “But you are.” Daryien found his voice. “You are our de la Nepioa; you always will be.”

  “I will not have the Rangers split into factions…”

  “There are no factions among us,” Ryedrin interjected. “We were sent with the backing of all the Rangers. Despite the fact that we do not all believe you handled this as we would have liked, you are our de la Nepioa. We are unwilling to lose you. We were sent to tell you this. If you do not believe me, reach out to your amulet. Had you not shut yourself off, you would already know this. We have been trying to reach you since you fled.” Her former student glanced at the Mithane, but the Mithane didn’t speak.

  “You could also just look at your amulet,” Daryien added. “I believe you will find it still carries the signature of your status as the de la Nepioa.”

  Z clenched her jaw, but she did reach out mentally to the amulet. Cautious and not believing for a second Rye
drin knew the full truth, she prepared herself for accusations, anger, and a bitter grief. The second her consciousness touched the constant flow of conversations within her people, the Rangers broke off their conversations with one another and greeted her. Flinching at the multitude of voices, Z pulled back out of fear before realizing there had been nothing but greeting. Nervously reaching out again, she forced herself to stay within the group and began to separate the different threads of conversation automatically.

  “Z?” Nivaradros said in a soft, but commanding tone. His voice sounded far away despite the lack of distance between them, and she didn’t pull away from the Rangers to respond to him. She was busy, and he could wait.

  The result surprised her. Ryedrin had indeed been correct; the Rangers sought her return. They would not allow her to denounce her title, and the fact that she had been so quick to surrender it had frightened them. Never in the history of the Rangers had there been a time where there wasn’t a single member on the Council. Following the slaughters they had expected to turn to her for recovery; instead she had walked away. Walked away to protect them, which they understood, but they wanted her back.

  I am no longer what I was when I took the post, she reminded them.

  What you are has never changed. We will make it work. One voice spoke for all of them, but Z felt and heard approval from the rest of her people.

  I will not turn away from Crilyne.

  We had no right to ask you to. He is yours and how you handled him was for you alone to decide. We do not ask you to handle your relationships with the other immortals in any specific way. And despite his actions, it was not our call to decide his fate.

  What they wanted was clear. Her support. Her lead. Her power. In return they agreed to stand down slightly. She had come to them as a shattered eight year old mortal; she had become a reluctant immortal power. They had come to grips with it at last in a way she still hadn’t, but in doing so they had realized they still wanted her to be one of theirs.