by Meagan Hurst
Of all the questions for him to ask, Z was rather surprised that was the one he had decided upon. “It depends,” she admitted, “on how damaged both are. There are places within your lands too dark to be ventured into by the mortal or the foolish yet powerful. Those will have to be hidden away under wards until a time comes when they are safe enough to let people travel though them. You also have a bit of a problem with creatures I would rather didn’t cross the borders of other lands.”
“They cross them now.”
“They are slain as soon as they are found. The last massive group of creatures to roam was not of your creation, but because Tenia decided to get careless and they activated a false portal in their stupidity.”
“False portal?”
Z rolled her eyes. “Think of a very thin coating of magic surrounding their lands. It was thin enough for the creatures of this world’s past and of other worlds to slip through, but too thin to be detected or seen by others. Likewise it was too thin to collapse, but until Tenia was taken care of, there was little I could do if I didn’t want to make the backlash I just suffered look like a walk in the forest.”
“And my people?”
“As half of them are insane and the other half are deeply disturbed? I haven’t a clue. Your slaves might be worth the rehabilitation, but I highly doubt your warriors are.”
“It would give you something to do.”
“I haven’t been immortal long enough to be that bored.”
Chapter 18
Dinner went surprisingly well. The night ended without her being challenged to a duel and without Midestol testing her mood with some off-handed remark about his slaves, her people, or her gender. Instead his warriors pretended she didn’t exist, and Midestol was the perfect host. Well, other than his displeasure with six slaves who ended up as small piles of ash. He didn’t, however, force her to choose their fates nor did he try to gage her opinion regarding their deaths. Dinner just continued as though nothing had happened, allowing her to ignore the smell of charred flesh with ease.
He even offered her a straightforward meal. There were no hidden poisons or drugs within it, nor were there meats that didn’t come from animals. All in all, it had to be the most relaxed meal she’d had with him in front of his men. Unfortunately, all good things come to an end, and the meal wasn’t finished without one minor hitch. During the many conversations Midestol became engaged in, one of his newer generals watched her without pause. She ignored him, but she could tell something was building inside of him. When he spoke, it took every ounce of skill she had learned from living around immortals for her not to choke on the wine in her mouth.
“I see your former companion is not joining us tonight; is she your replacement?” The young fool asked as he nodded towards her.
Midestol turned his attention to the young speaker—dropping his previous conversation so swiftly Z could feel the chill in the air grow as his men shifted in their seats. “She is not,” Midestol said in an icy tone. “Nor is she to be considered up for grabs. Z is a guest and she is to be treated with all the outward politeness you offer me.”
It took everything she had not to react to those words. Instead she pretended to ignore the conversation and concentrated on her steak instead. Sadly the young moron at the end of the table didn’t know when to shut up, and Midestol was not in a forgiving mood. The incineration of slaves should have been enough of a warning, had the young warrior had the brains to pay attention.
“She is female.”
“Indeed.” Midestol put down the wine glass he had been holding up until this point and glanced over at her for the first time. “It is rather obvious. Regardless, you are to treat her with the utmost respect while she is present. She is not here to be anyone’s prize and I believe you will find that she is out of your skill level if you are foolish enough to try and force her.”
The young man opened his mouth once more, but Midestol had had enough. Z had about a second’s warning before the warrior exploded—literary. Cries of alarm came from the slaves while the rest of the warriors at the table covered their eyes as bits of bone, flesh, blood, and worse hit the air and spread the length of the table. Z, however, didn’t move. Knowing she was covered in remains, she pretended to stare mournfully at her steak before glancing at Midestol.
“I was enjoying that,” she complained. “Couldn’t you have at least waited until I was finished?”
Her grandfather glanced over at her and began to laugh. His laughter was surprisingly open and as he continued to watch her his laugher only grew. “My apologies, Zimliya,” he wheezed. “I had no idea it would interfere with your meal. If you are still hungry I can have the kitchen make you another steak.”
Everyone else was looking rather green despite the fact all of them performed heinous acts upon the slaves or each other when they could get away with it. But since she seemed to have a stronger stomach than they did, she decided to rub it in. Eying her cup, which was also covered with human pieces, she let out an irritated sigh. “A new steak and a fresh wine glass would be much appreciated,” she drawled.
The anger from before vanished in light of her willingness to continue a meal the rest of the hall was unable to. “I too would like to continue the meal,” Midestol admitted with a smile. Summoning one of the very naked female slaves who had managed not to flee the room, Midestol demanded fresh food, plates, and glasses. “Anyone who wishes to leave has my permission,” he called out to the room. Despite the fact it was bad form, more than three-quarters of the room fled, including most of the men seated at their table.
Since the chairs between them had been vacated, Midestol moved until he was beside her. The plates and mess around them vanished until a clean black tablecloth was the only thing on the table in front of them—the rest of the table was still a bloody mess. It was about fifteen minutes before food and wine were once again served, and Z went back through the motions of eating although Midestol was far more interested in her than he was the food.
“I am rather impressed you can still eat,” he murmured as he began to dine. The rest of their table—and the rest of the room—had left while they had waited for their second meal.
“I used to be handed food that was moldy, poisoned, or drugged while I was living in a cell that had urine, blood, vomit, rat feces, and human remains littered throughout it. Let’s just say I’ve eaten in much worse conditions.” That and she was truly hungry.
Dinner was finished in silence. When the plates had been taken away for a second time, Midestol stood and offered her his hand. Accepting it with ease she allowed him to escort her from the dining hall back up to her room. They walked in silence, but it was perhaps the most comfortable silence she had experienced with him. He had, she realized, come to accept who she was—as much as she had learned to accept who he was. She could feel his gaze on her as they walked his halls, but he never broke the silence, and she gave him no cause to.
Once they had reached the top of the stairs leading to her tower, Midestol released her hand and bowed. “I would be pleased to see you at the morning meal,” he told her softly. “If you are willing, I will come and personally escort you myself. I see no reason to give you any more excuses to execute my men, and I am well aware that if I allow you to wander alone that is what will happen. Especially following tonight. I cannot expect any less of them.”
It sounded like he was trying to defend their mindset. Funnily enough, she was willing to let it go for the night. “I would be more than willing to attend the morning meal,” she assured him before opening her door. “And I am well aware of why they think like they do. Recall, I used to live in Tenia and though they did not act upon their thoughts, it was quite easy to see what they were.” Bowing to him in return, she moved inside her room and closed the door.
She had planned to head out almost immediately, but a quick glance in a mirror had changed that plan. Going to rescue captives while splattered in the blood of someone else probably wouldn’t work in
her favor. Cursing under her breath, Z decided to cheat on the bath. Slipping into her shadow realm, she created a pond, bathed, and then emerged and redressed in her Ranger clothing before slipping back into the tower. To her relief, the effects of her bath followed her into the real world, and Z smiled darkly at herself in the mirror before closing her eyes and pulled her power outward.
That power would remain in this room to give off the illusion she was still within it. Since Midestol had never been able to get a full reading on her power, she had no reason to fear he would pick up on her deception. The goal was to make him believe she had stayed in this room all night, and she could only hope it worked. Slipping out of the tower, she pulled what magic she had kept around herself until anyone who looked at her would see nothing—sense nothing—despite the fact she was right in front of them. It took less power than making herself invisible, and it was far more useful since she could control who did and did not see her.
Walking the paths from her tower to the dungeons, she checked in briefly on her grandfather and found she had little to worry about; he would be well distracted for the night. Slipping past his room, she headed down further into the depths of the castle and repressed a shudder at the dark magic, pain, blood, and loss that it was built upon. If she won, this place would not be left standing; if she lost, the whole world would end up like this. It was incentive to fight and, despite what she had said to him, she had never lost her incentive. She had forced him to choose between her and Rameilas, and he had chosen as she had expected he would.
Which had also saved her from dealing with a half-breed who had learned from Tenia who she wasn’t instead of who she was. Veilantras would be furious over the loss of her daughter, but it wouldn’t be Z’s fault. It had been Midestol who had slain Rameilas, and the Dragons weren’t a race that pursued multiple targets.
Making it to the first level of the dungeons, she moved silently through them and began to mark the position and path of the guards. They weren’t very solid; distractions were too close to resist and most of them didn’t anticipate an attack or an escape underneath Midestol’s castle. She did the same study on the second through fourth levels, but when she reached the fifth, she found it was unguarded and therefore open to her maneuvers.
Revealing herself to Midestol’s captives, cautiously, she began to pick both the regular and magical locks that bound them into the cages that had been their home for months now. At least, she guessed it had been months based on their appearance and their condition. Getting them to follow her was easy enough; she was female and Midestol’s views on women made it clear there was no way she could be working for him.
Moving them through their level without concern, she kept an eye and sense out for traps, but didn’t find any. Reaching the section in the wall she was seeking, she opened it and held up a hand which caused those following her to stop. This place was trapped; magically and with weapons. Slipping into the small crack that led to a tunnel she systematically set off all of the traps. Returning to the dungeon she gathered up the slaves and led them through the narrow opening with care—making sure to go first in case there was a trap she had missed the first time through and back.
Two hours later the tunnel made a sharp fork to the right. The path widened slightly enabling the two hundred people had rescued from Midestol could gather around her. Her eyes found a familiar face and she gestured him forward as his eyes widened in recognition. “Tylaris, how good is your memory?” she ventured to ask as he approached her.
“Decent…” the man admitted. His eyes watched her warily. “Why?”
“Because I have to remain to get others out, but from here on you should be fairly safe. I can tell you where to travel to in order to find aid, but you will have to travel without further guidance from me. There will be others waiting to help you, but not until you are out of this land.”
Tylaris’s suspicion grew. “And who will be waiting?”
“Rangers. Which you don’t know about yet,” she sighed and began to explain who and what the Rangers were. “I am a Ranger,” she added as she showed them the amulet. She had discovered there was no magic on their world, or it was hidden from the majority of them, from a discussion with one of members of this group. But since they had experienced magic around them since they had been brought here, these particular mortals were willing to trust her magic…and by extension her.
“And they will know us…?” one of the other humans asked timidly.
“I will give them warning. They will be waiting with food, clothing, and I plan on sending you to a kingdom ruled and populated by mortals.”
“Can you send us home?” Tylaris requested.
“It is, at the moment, unwise.” She met his eyes. “Midestol would only raid your homeland again. And war is coming; you will be far safer in one of our kingdoms than you would be back on your world. This world is different than yours, I understand that, but if you give it a chance and you are no longer kept as slaves or pets, I believe you will find it has its own beauty.”
There were scowls, tears, and soft curses, but no one asked her for anything more. Nodding to them, she began to explain the way that would permit them to never have to surface above ground. She spoke of the roots and waterways which were safe to drink from, as well as those that were not, and she spoke of the creatures they would have to keep an eye out for. None of them would give chase, but a bite or a sting would bring a slow death to the unwary. In the end, she stayed where she was and watched them as they took the path she had set them onto and vanished from sight. She had agreed—but not promised—to search the dungeons for loved ones and attempt to free them from Midestol’s hold, but she knew the chance of being successful was small if they were being kept in the castle. The people she had rescued knew it as well. To her relief, no one refused to leave. No one swore to stand and wait for someone who would never come. It made things easier for her.
Closing the path once they had disappeared from view, Z turned and began the long way back. It took longer to return. All the way to the dungeons she worked on setting up the traps she had sprung and washing away any residue of the slaves’ passage. She would be doing this for days—until Midestol caught on to her—and she therefore needed things to look as though the slaves had vanished on their own or someone inside Midestol’s castle had let them out.
Slipping back through the levels of his dungeon, Z made it to her room without any problem. Removing all traces of her walk from herself and her clothing, she slipped into bed and pretended to let sleep claim her. Instead she spent most of the night thinking of ways to get another group of captives out of the castle. The passages—except for the trapped ones—were all built or dug by her during her many stays here. It made them almost undetectable, but time had taught her there was no such thing as foolproof. She would have to assess each of her paths to ensure they were still safe to take. The loss of one passage would be crippling, but not disastrous; the loss of all of them due to the fact she led Midestol to them would be catastrophic.
The door slammed into the wall, bounced closed, and then slammed open again as Midestol forced his way into her room. By the time he was in her room she was up with Kyi’rinn drawn and pointed at him. His eyes were blazing with anger, but she kept her stance un-confrontational.
“Midestol…?” she called cautiously.
Her grandfather’s eyes flashed, but he took in her with care before he eyed the room. “What did you do last night?” he asked in a tone that sounded gentle but implied death.
“Tried to recover further,” she told him as she began to lower her sword. She could tell she would have to tread very carefully if she intended to rescue anyone else from his lands. It was evident Midestol had discovered he was short a couple hundred slaves and it was apparent he intended to take it out on her. As it was her fault that was fair, but she wanted to get out of here alive. Confirming his suspicions would be a bad idea.
His critical review of her condition, however, caused
his anger to slide to another target; one who wasn’t in the room. Eyes softening, he approached her but slowed as she tensed and brought Kyi’rinn back up into position. “Easy,” he advised as he paused where he stood. “It appears I may have jumped to a conclusion. I thought you were responsible for the disappearance of my slaves.”
Z raised a brow. Over acting here was as bad as under acting. “You lost slaves?” she asked. “It’s damn hard to do that. How did you lose them? Normally your slaves aren’t smart enough to escape.”
“Not without help—most often yours,” Midestol agreed as he relaxed further. “But it appears at least one of them managed it. I have men searching, but there appears to be no trace of them.”
“Any of them have magic?”
“Not that I know of, but it is always possible I missed something.” Midestol’s eyes narrowed as he watched her movements, but he didn’t comment on the fact that although her condition had improved she was still suffering from her injuries. “The morning meal is in an hour. Are you still willing to join us?”
Saying no seemed like a bad idea so Z inclined her head politely instead and slid Kyi’rinn into its sheath. “I don’t have anything to wear that you would approve of,” she added before he could ask. “If you can find something, I would be happy to change.” That was a bit of a stretch, but she was willing to be cautious considering his mood.
“I’ll see if I can find something for you,” Midestol assured her as his eyes moved around her tower. “Do you want me to send up a slave to help you dress?”
“If it’s going to be that complicated of a dress, probably,” she told him as she moved to the other side of the tower. His anger was still present, but it was submerged, and Z was worried it would surface at breakfast. But if she found herself decorated in human remains again, Midestol was going to have to deal with her temper as well.
