Milaro Chapter

Milaro leaned forward at his desk, elbows resting on its surface, his head cradled in his hands. He knew as well as anyone that pushing oneself too far when energy was lacking wasn’t the best idea. Over the last few centuries, he’d grown perhaps complacent. Without the Library, he’d become entrenched in his own territory, unaccustomed to expending much energy.

And then the Library returned, and he spent more energy in the last six months than he had in the past couple of centuries.

Age might be catching up to him. That was a sobering thought. He sighed.

“What on earth are you sighing about?”

Nishpa’s voice cut across his melancholy thoughts with a crisp clarity that made him wince. Yet he appreciated her presence. She wasn’t always there, but when she was, it was a comforting reminder that he wasn’t alone in the universe.

“You’re feeling sorry for yourself again, aren’t you,” she said, flitting close enough to his head that he could practically feel the air from her wings beating.

“I am definitely feeling my age this morning,” he said, leaning back in his chair and eyeing his old friend.

“Really?” She raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “That’s a lot of years to feel.”

“It is rather, isn’t it?” he admitted ruefully. “Anyway, I have work to do. What did you want?”

She crossed her arms, still hovering in the air above his desk, and glared at him. It was one of those pointed glares that took three seconds to wear him down.

He gave in. “Fine. What can I help you with?”

“Oh, Milaro. As usual, it’s not you who can help me, but me who can help you.”

He would have asked her to clarify, but she’d known him for several millennia and he knew that wasn’t going to clarify anything. “Okay. Why are you here, then?”

“I’m here because you’ve been pushing yourself too far. Again. As usual. The Areiltháhnish defenses are solid enough right now, but you have several sections over here.” She projected an image for him to look at, indicating one of the quadrants and a planet very close to his own. “This one has several holes in it. You know you could easily bring in your nephews, your grandchildren, your son and make them a part of this web. You understand that, right?”

“Look, I know it’s possible, but I just don’t...”

“What? And you die tomorrow, accidentally slipping on a banana peel down some marble stairs and break your neck. Then you expect somebody to be able to pick up the tattered remnants of your defenses then?” She wasn’t pulling punches.

Milaro winced. “When you put it like that...”

“Exactly,” Nishpa said. “When I put it like that, I am completely and utterly correct and you know I’m completely and utterly correct.”

“I guess I can’t expect you to put it any differently then...” Milaro groaned.

“Look, I just know, Milaro, you are the King of the Areiltháhnish. You have a responsibility to your people. You have a responsibility to all the clans that belong to your people and the fact that you’ve let the defenses get this bad...”

“Hey, they’re not that bad.” But it sounded lame even to his ears.

“Well, they’re not that bad yet, but they’re on the verge and you’ve been too preoccupied and too busy to realize and keep them properly reinforced.” She sighed. “Frankly, you’ve overextended yourself.”

“I get it..I agree. What do you recommend?” He hoped she had some because right then his thoughts were still focused on getting Malakai healed and prepared for everything that was to come. Not to mention getting the Library back online and realizing that should the Library fail and this Sölem’s plan work, then the Library wasn’t the only target. Everything they knew, the entire Areiltháhnish conglomeration, all the Firionas Fae, the other Fae creatures, every single Empire, every single solar system that wasn’t in this alliance of Sölem, they would all be the new targets.

When chaos reunited itself, when it became the hungry void it had once been, there was no doubt the first people on its menu would be those who’d helped maintain the universe. When chaos ran out of things to eat, it would = start creating again and then devouring again and creating again and devouring again. It was a never-ending cycle of creation and destruction. They couldn’t let that happen.

As long as chaos was tempered with filtration, it could always be a part of creation by way of the magic it infused.

Milaro sighed. “I have been derelict in my duties. I agree. So, just help me.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Nishpa flashed him a smug grin. “Time to dive into that spider like web of protection of yours and see how much we can salvage, and how much has to be spun anew.”

“Fine. Let’s refine the stitching, shall we?” He chuckled.

Relaxing into the plane that allowed Milaro to access the vast security net was easy enough. The images, and complex weavings flooded his entire mind. His HUD was far more complex by design than anything most people would witness in a lifetime. It extended out beyond him, beyond the palace, to the edges of his world, and the region the Areiltháhnish were responsible for. All the extended family and any refugees they’d taken in.

But Milaro started with his world first, making sure every single netting line aligned with each other. There were no knots, nothing stuck, no danger pinged from any area. It took a while to cover his world, but it worked. There were a few knicks in it, a few lines that had bumped against each other, but overall they were perfectly parallel. A strong, supple spider web of defense. Milaro leaned back, admiring his handiwork as it projected before him in the HUD. He frowned and traced it, but no, it was covered perfectly. There was no way anything that meant them danger, or that they didn’t know or understand, could get past the defenses to him.

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Which left the rest of the region.

Milaro reached out to every other world and repeated the process. Several of those had messed up webs with what he considered gaping holes. Well, holes in his nets probably weren’t considered holes in many others, but for Milaro, who strove for security perfection, it was far from good enough. He frowned as a wave of unease passed through him. Scanning himself, he noticed nothing amiss, but kept it in mind, and began tweaking the rest of the web. It took more time than he liked, and he ate food brought to him while still focused on his task. He dove into the weave himself, making sure all the perfect spider webbing matched up. When he was done, he sat back, examining the net that protected his entire domain that he’d just reinforced.

He nodded to himself, happy with the reinforcements, and chastised himself for leaving it for so long. Perhaps his friend was right. He needed to bring in his younger family members sooner than later. Perhaps give them different parts of the region to be responsible for. It was a lot for one person. Not that he’d admit that out loud.

Yet.

“There,” Nishpa said, “don’t you feel much better about this?”

He raised an eyebrow and realized his eyes were bleary. “I feel more secure.”

“And so you should. That just took you the better part of a day.”

He blinked at her. He hadn’t realized quite how long he’d been lost in web repairs. Nishpa had arrived first thing in the morning. Now that he thought about it, if she’d come from the Library, that meant she hadn’t slept for...

“Wait, you can’t admonish me for not resting when you haven’t slept all night,” he said. She crossed her arms again and glared pointedly at him. He winced. He hadn’t forgotten that she was fully capable of operating on no sleep for days at a time, but that didn’t mean it was healthy for her. Even though she’d promised his wife that she’d take care of him, it didn’t mean that Nishpa should be neglecting herself. He’d never hear the end of it.

“You realize you’re supposed to be resting,” Nishpa said.

“Well, I...”

“Stop changing the subject,” she sighed. “Look, I had mostly easy work to do in the hospital.”

“Just needed to get away?” he asked.

“Yeah, some of the things they went through, what they experienced before the root practically sucked them dry,” Nishpa shook her head and a slight shiver passed through her small frame, “that was heavy stuff. Not necessarily something I can’t deal with. I mean, I deal in mind magic and healing.”

“But Nishpa,” he said very gently, reaching out a hand to tap her on the shoulder. They weren’t like sprites. Firionas weren’t absolutely tiny, but two and a half feet was small enough when compared to his seven feet of height. “You know, you don’t have to be brave just because of me.”

“One of us has to be brave,” she said, and flashed him a smirk.

He laughed. “Okay, touché, I deserved that. I’m just concerned.”

She smiled. “You know, I’m grateful you’re concerned for me. It means a lot. But I can deal with these things myself. I don’t need to add to your burden. Not now. When everything’s over. When it’s all back to normal. Don’t you worry, I’ll come and grab a cup of tea. We’ll sit in this office and I’ll complain to my heart’s content.”

Milaro laughed. It felt good to let some of the energy he’d been bottling up float away. He smiled at his friend. “I’ll hold to that. We can even make a picnic of it and whine about things together.”

She laughed. “Excellent. But we’re not going to make it that far if you don’t start taking better care of yourself and of your domain.”

Milaro felt lighter than he had for months. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy his time in the library, but he did admit to it being a drain, especially with everything that had gone wrong in it. Being back in his own palace for the last few days had helped. He’d gotten more sleep. He was reinforcing the protections. His own mind even felt rejuvenated.

“You know,” Nishpa said, “you’re not taking as good care of yourself as you should be.”

“I know. But I’ll change. I need to.”

“You pretty much have to,” she said and floating up, tapping him on the forehead. “Let me look.”

He sighed and allowed her to place her tiny, delicate fingers against the temple on the left-hand side of his head. She frowned, and he closed his eyes. He could feel the sensations as she dove around in his mind, something very familiar considering the amount of time they’d known each other and the amount of times her mind healing had assisted him. Maybe he needed to stop relying on her so much. But that was probably something that he’d never do. He enjoyed having a few select people around him that he could rely on, like Siliqua, Harish, Nishpa, Cadre to a certain extent. And then there was Carafax and Quinn. Lynx, definitely, now that he was regaining his memories.

Milaro realized he had a stronger support circle than he’d thought.

“Stop letting your thoughts wander,” Nishpa snapped. “Focus with me. We’re trying to heal you up.”

“I know. I know.” He chuckled and focused inwardly again.

She surveyed the barriers of his mind, the joints, areas that had previously been damaged and that she’d had to help him fix not too long ago. She pulled back. “You can open your eyes now.”

“Well?” he asked.

“You’re actually in excellent shape in there now,” she nodded approvingly. “You’ve been doing your exercises, remembering to reinforce periodically instead of all at once.”

“Yes, yes.”

“You haven’t been overextending yourself.”

Milaro smiled easily at that. “Quinn has an excellent hold on her abilities now. It’s become a lot easier to train her.”

“Good, because she’ll need your guidance again sooner than later.”

He grinned this time. “You know, she’s like the granddaughter I never had.”

“You’ve got like 12 granddaughters. What are you talking about?” Nishpa cocked her head to one side.

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Milaro said. “She’s the granddaughter I didn’t know I needed. Is that better?”

“Much better.”

There was a knock at the door, interrupting their friendly banter. Milaro called out, resigned to the fact that most of his time wasn’t his own. “Who is it?”

Siliqua entered the room, followed by Sarila. Milaro raised an eyebrow and rose from where he’d been sitting to come around the front side of the desk.

“Sarila,” He couldn’t keep the confusion out of his voice. She shouldn’t be here, not when she was taking care of Escadril. “What brings you here? I wasn’t expecting you. Is everything okay? Are you doing okay?”

She looked up at him, her eyes flickering a strange emerald green that was underlying with a black, smoky look. Her birch-tree like bark-skin seemed even paler than usual. Milaro frowned. “Are you okay?” He asked again. That same sensation he’d had briefly while repairing the security webs swept over him like a brief afternoon breeze. He pushed his defenses up, solidifying them, strengthening them. It only took a glance at Nishpa to know that she had the same gut feeling. He extended his domain to include Siliqua.

“Is everything okay?” Nishpa asked gently.

“Everything is sad,” Sarila said, her voice cracking. It was as if she chose her words carefully. “It’s just...”

Milaro backed up to his table, wishing he’d just stayed behind it to start with. Something in the surrounding air pushed against the defenses, while not quite sparking them. It still hinted at alarm. He looked closer at Sarila, watching her. “Just what?”

“It’s Escadril,” she said. “Escadril is dead.”