When the Kingdom Falls Read online

  Irritated at his dark thoughts, Crilyne glanced at the sleeping figure again and sighed. He could see the start of her fever even now, and he was certain her wound was infected—not that he was about to try to confirm it. Moving slowly from the room, he paused just outside the door, and lightly touched the wood that formed the wall that stood between her room and the hall.

  “She lives,” he seemingly told the wall as it lost its wooden appearance and changed to a swirl of grey at the demand of his power. “She is resting. Contact me with world-ending disasters only. I will not wake her for anything less. Send no one here. If I deem aid necessary I will summon someone of my choosing when I believe such aid is required. Spread this information lightly, and only to those who truly need to hear it.” Returning the wall to its natural state, Crilyne stared at it for a moment longer, and then slowly turned back to the room and its occupant.

  Morning arrived silently, and with nothing but negative news. Crilyne had sealed the room magically against all outside noise as a precaution, but Z’s fever had made the move unnecessary. She was too ill now to be awoken by trivial noises—if he could awaken her at all. Instead he now feared the deal struck between Z and an ancient magic was finally catching up to her while he was forced to watch. He had elemental magic, and he could manipulate almost anything, but healing he could not even attempt, and Z’s fever was just the tip of the iceberg.

  The ancient Shade muttered curses under his breath for the better part of the morning before a light touch on his senses, already heightened by Z’s condition, caused him to exercise his use of languages even more fully. Eventually Z’s cursing rubbed off on everyone. Someone else was coming, and Crilyne really didn’t want to deal with this particular immortal visitor.

  Continuing to use his excellent education in language flexibility, Crilyne headed downstairs. He sealed Z’s room completely from entry of any kind as a precaution since he doubted the newcomer could break through his magic. While this particular unwanted visitor was powerful in magic, and had some talents that matched his, Crilyne was certain he had a tiny bit more power behind him when it came to wards. He also had one hundred and sixty plus millenniums to perfect and extend his magic, while his opponent had less than ten to his name.

  He was surprised the Rangers had allowed Z’s visitor entry, since he was positive they hadn’t sensed her arrival. As a rule, they preferred no outsiders within their lands. They also had little tolerance for those with short tempers who happened to be violent because of them; like this particular being was. Standing in front of the closed door, Crilyne waited coldly for the being to enter. If their visitor actually could enter, considering his size and race.

  To his utter astonishment, the Dragon actually picked the lock with magic to enter the house. He did not use his normal method of obliterating the object in front of him, which was the only method Crilyne had seen him use whenever he found something to be in his way. Crilyne’s magic, however, was instantly around the Dragon’s neck. Another surprise came with the ambush’s success; the Dragon was human in appearance.

  That certainly explained how the Dragon had gotten into the city. He almost didn’t recognize the Dragon, and his power was more adapt to recognizing familiar presences—whatever their guise—than most. The Rangers must have assumed the Dragon was just one of Z’s other allies and allowed him access to their city. For a moment his anger thawed in the wake of his disbelief, and he let the ring of magic drop when he decided his visitor wasn’t going to instantly attack him. Never before had the Dragon limited himself by shifting to a secondary form—the human-seeming one in appearance. In fact, it was speculated by many that this Dragon didn’t even have a lesser form.

  Crilyne’s anger, however, eventually returned when the Dragon remained silent. Glowering threateningly at the figure before him, he waited for the Dragon’s next move. There was only one reason the Dragon could be here.

  “Nivaradros,” he began, as his voice dropped the warmth of the room by several degrees. “What are you doing here? I made it quite clear when I sent out word that Zimliya required no outside attendance that visitors were more likely to endanger her recovery. I also did not send any sort of a message to you.”

  “And yet,” the Dragon replied in a tone that contested his for iciness, “here I am. I heard you had found her. I heard she was unwell. Your desire to tend to her yourself is merely an action on your own behalf. I was surprised by it,” the Dragon added in a condescending way. “As you are already dead, I would have thought such devotion and selfishness was beyond you. Apparently I was wrong.” The Dragon’s eyes burned dangerously, but so far his fire stayed behind his teeth. “I wish to see her,” he added curtly.

  “That is not possible,” Crilyne replied swiftly. “I could feel your temper before you picked the lock, Nivaradros, and I just got her to sleep. She is ill, Dragon, and I have no desire to have her weaken herself to the point of death because you startle her out of much needed sleep. She’ll feel your temper, and it will alarm her. Never mind the fact I don’t think you are ever in a decent mood; you’ll kill Z if you go to her, and I will not allow it.”

  “Do you think you could stop me?” Nivaradros asked softly. The Dragon took a threatening step forward. “I will see her, Shade. I will not harm her—”

  “On purpose!” Crilyne snapped, but he doubted the Dragon’s words. “But by going to her side, Nivaradros, you will. Believe me when I say she is fragile enough that your mere anger will tip her over the very light edge she is balancing on. I am not a healer, but I know when someone is dying. She is very, very close, Nivaradros. Do not push it!”

  “I will not endanger her, Shade,” Nivaradros replied darkly. “Believe me when I say I have my own motives for keeping her alive.” The Dragon regarded him sharply, and exhaled smoke.

  With that smoke went the feel of most of the Dragon’s pent up anger, but even for a Dragon Nivaradros had a notoriously short temper. Asking him to lose all of it was probably akin to asking the many races to suddenly—magically—be able to stand being together without Z’s presence.

  Crilyne hesitated still, but he was unwilling to pick a large fight with the Dragon in Z’s house. The woman wasn’t overly attached to her houses, but the Shade wasn’t entirely certain she wouldn’t be upset if she lost one. Instead he nodded curtly to the Dragon. “If I sense you are endangering her life at all I will remove you from the room. By force,” he added in case the Dragon needed clarification of the obvious.

  “I’m shaking,” the Dragon answered sarcastically, before heading up the stairs while the Shade trailed.

  Crilyne did not, however, stay the trailer. He blocked the Dragon’s entrance to the closed door as the human-appearing hand touched the knob. “Remember,” he whispered. “She is not well. She is human and very, very fragile even when she is not injured.”

  “Believe that I have knowledge of how delicate mortals—especially humans—are,” Nivaradros remarked mildly. “I have killed quite a lot of them. That won’t ease your distrust, but you will survive it,” he added tauntingly. He seemed completely unconcerned, and it showed in his dangerous smile. “Furthermore, I have been around our young human disaster when she was gravely wounded before, and both of us survived. I think it’s not too farfetched to assume we will both do so again.

  “Enough, Shade,” he snapped as Crilyne opened his mouth to argue further. “I am not asking permission, I am telling you. You have things you need to tend to outside of caring for her, and I am here to take over that task. She may not trust me, but she doesn’t trust you that much more—if she trusts you more—and there is not one being in this world that holds her full trust. I am here to lend aid, to her, and in that manner it also aids you strictly because it cannot be avoided. Do not interfere. You believe you could remove me from the house by force, but I do not share that belief.” Brushing past him, the Dragon entered the room with care.

  But Crilyne wasn’t about to let Nivaradros wander in Z’s room, with her, alone. Following the Dragon in with unease, he watched as Nivaradros moved immediately to the unconscious woman’s side. Opening his mouth to protest, Crilyne found himself swallowing his words as the Dragon’s expression softened. The human-seeming hand gently reached up to stroke Z’s cheek, and then brush the sweat soaked brown hair away from her eyes, and Crilyne watched in astonishment as Nivaradros’s gaze swept over the covered, but obviously malnourished, form before him in obvious concern.

  Yet the woman on the bed didn’t even stir at his touch. As this meant Z was either too deep in her rest, or Nivaradros had far more trust from the woman than was wise, Crilyne was more than just a little disturbed by her lack of response.

  “Don’t you dare die on me,” the Dragon whispered to the sleeping figure. “Don’t you even consider it.” Crilyne felt a light touch of magic adding support to every piece of furniture Nivaradros might sit on before the Dragon took a careful seat on the bed next to Z. “She needs to eat,” the Dragon declared sharply without glancing up from the figure trapped in the depths of her fever.

  “If we wake her now she will die. Let her rest, Nivaradros. I know she looks terrible, but awakening her too soon will compromise what little health she has regained. Do not force things.”

  The predatory growl that rose from deep within the Dragon warned him not to press Nivaradros too quickly. While the Dragon could not kill him, Z was between them, and Crilyne doubted the Dragon would remember that in time to spare her despite his supposed interest in her wellbeing. An interest Crilyne didn’t trust.

  This particular Dragon was known for slaughtering mortals—and, to be honest, immortals as well—without mercy or care. Nivaradros was exiled from his own race as a result of both his temper and his actions, and despite hundreds of att
empts to bring about his demise, the Dragon had survived. The Dragon was dangerous, and had never shown the slightest indication of being concerned for anyone else’s wellbeing. The Shade doubted anything had changed. Straightening himself up to his full height, since it was only an inch shorter than the Dragon’s current form, Crilyne held the neon green eyes challengingly.

  Nivaradros continued to growl for a moment before exhaling coldly. “Alright, fine,” the Dragon snapped. “But she needs to eat soon, Shade, or we will lose her regardless.” Once more a hand reached out to touch Z’s face. Again it was gentle, and the Dragon’s gaze softened slightly into something closer to being almost friendly. Crilyne wasn’t sure what to make of it. “How long has she had her fever?” the Dragon demanded to know.

  He felt a hint of surprise take him. He wouldn’t have guessed the Dragon even knew what a fever was. Or cared enough about its effects in the beings it could touch.

  “Long enough that I worry about her surviving it, but to attempt to wake her too early is to let her fever claim her, Nivaradros. It is a thin edge we balance on, but it is the only way to preserve her.” He eyed the Dragon and then sighed. “Do not wake her,” he ordered shortly. “But since you seem disinclined to eat her at this moment in time, I am willing to let you remain alone with her. If anything happens to her in my absence, however, it will cost you your life.”

  He left before the Dragon spoke again. Hating the idea of leaving Z with Nivaradros, Crilyne nevertheless knew he had to. He had matters to attend to that the Dragon could not know about. Heading back down the stairs he set up his magic in Z’s war room, and closed his eyes to keep himself better focused upon his task.

  Zimliya had an inborn talent to track, sense, and control magic. He did not. He had to work for his skill. Bringing his power to bear he investigated any traces of magic he could detect without giving himself away to those who could be watching. The human dark mage, Midestol, was clearly making a move again, but what the dark mage planned to do, and when he would start to make his move was unknown. Unfortunately, it was likely only the sleeping figure upstairs could determine the game being played.

  He continued his work in silence, and without breaks, for days. There was a strange current of magic he could not pin down, and he was concerned about it. When Z recovered, if she recovered, he would have to run it by her. If she didn’t wake up already alert to the danger. With her sensitivity to the world around her—when she allowed her talents to run freely—it would not surprise him if she did in fact wake up knowing something was off in the world. It could also be, he thought tiredly, the buildup of power Z had been warning them all about for months.

  A muffled yell caused him to drop his magic and work with a thought. Another yell answered the first, and it was followed by a roar. Recalling he had left the Dragon. Alone. With Z. Crilyne cursed under his breath and then moved quickly from the room. Taking the stairs four at a time, he threw the door to Z’s room open with a blast of power, causing both of the occupants of the room to turn their attention to him. Since it made the argument between them pause, he considered it a minor victory.

  “What is going on?” he demanded curtly, fixing the Dragon with a black stare since of the two in the room the Dragon was the safer one to make an accusation of. In theory anyway.

  It was not, however, the Dragon who answered. “He insists on feeding me,” Z answered irritably. “And I am not hungry. Nor do I need to be fed by a Dragon. Why did you let him in? I thought you said no one was going to bother me?!”

  “I tried, but in order to keep from alerting the Rangers to your return once the Dragon was here there was little I could do but invite him in,” Crilyne pointed out. “And you should eat something Zimliya—Z,” he corrected quietly. “You’ve lost some weight, and you weren’t in the best of conditions to begin with.” At least her fever had broken while she slept.

  She told him what he could do with the food crossly, and he sighed inwardly. Reminding himself that she was still young, and always hard to deal with during an injury, he merely fixed her with a dark look until she snarled at him in his own language. There were times when he was grateful she could speak the words of his kind, but this was sadly not one of them.

  “In your current condition I believe the Dragon would win,” he pointed out mildly when she had finished cursing him out—after having gone through fifteen other languages in the process.

  And the Dragon did win. Two hours, twenty-seven minutes, and fifty-eight seconds later. Crilyne watched curiously at the interaction between the unsocial human and the even more unsocial Dragon. Nivaradros pulled the empty bowl away from Z at long last and returned to his earlier position of sitting on the edge of the bed. To Crilyne’s surprise, Z allowed this to occur without comment. As much as he distrusted and loathed the Dragon, Crilyne began to consider a possibility that would not have occurred to him without the interaction taking place before him. His idea continued to form as Nivaradros fixed Z with a burning gaze.

  “I want to see that wound.”

  The silence that had filled the room was broken with the cool demand of the Dragon, and Crilyne expected Z to react as well to those words as she had to the news she was going to eat.

  “As you wish,” Z replied stiffly after a moment, ignoring Crilyne’s gaze as he glanced at her. “But staring at it will not make it heal any faster,” she added with a cutting smile.

  The Dragon’s smile matched hers, but he waited until Z gave him a tense nod of permission before approaching her side and gently pulling away the clothing that had served as a very poor bandage for the wound. When it was clear the cloth had adhered to her injury, his hands grew talons, and he gently cut through the cloth of her shirt before those talons vanished once more. What his actions revealed caused the Dragon to start cursing aloud while Crilyne added nothing; his cursing was much more private. He was slightly impressed the Dragon had managed to get Zimliya’s permission to see her injury. Not to mention the fact that Nivaradros had held a weapon close without the woman going off.

  The Dragon’s hand gently brushed the front of the wound that had gone completely through Z’s stomach on the very lower right. It was just above the hip, and yet had somehow managed to miss anything that would have killed her instantly. Or Z was determinedly ignoring that fact and forcing her body to do the same.

  “Shade,” the Dragon snapped as Z’s eyes closed with possible exhaustion, or possible fear. Crilyne could see the self-restraint the woman was employing to keep from lashing out at the Dragon for touching her. “Get me something to clean this with. Get bandages as well.”

  “I don’t believe Z carries such supplies in her residence, since she is rarely here,” Crilyne pointed out irritably. Z’s tired nod confirmed his words.

  “So go purchase what is required,” Nivaradros demanded as he pressed the front of the shirt against the front of the wound. The back of it was currently pressed against the pillows Z was leaning on, and Nivaradros was clearly unwilling to move the woman since she was being uncharacteristically decent about this whole thing.

  He opened his mouth to argue, but Z met his eyes tiredly. “I would appreciate it,” she said softly. “There is money in the front drawer of the desk in the entryway.”

  It really wasn’t a desk, but Z was apparently too tired to call it by its true name. Then again the ‘desk’ wasn’t in an entryway. Z knew the proper—or more formal names—for her furniture and her rooms, but she rarely used them as if avoiding the term would change things. Z had something against open displays of wealth or power, and while none of her furniture or belongings could be considered lavish, she tried to even further distance herself from the concept by using only the simplest of name to describe anything.

  “Just don’t tell them I am here. Lie if they ask,” she added before closing her eyes again. “If either of you gentlemen make the mistake of believing this gives you a pass for future injuries, then you’re both idiots.”