by Meagan Hurst
It was only after she had started walking with the Dragon at her side that she realized she had given him something akin to an order—something he should have been offended by—and he hadn’t even blinked. Glancing up at him, she saw his lips curl up into a small smile.
“You’ll have to get used to this,” he pointed out when she continued to stare at him. “You do, after all, outrank me, and I plan on staying with you no matter what.”
They made it to their hall, and then to their doors, without another attempt on her life. Scanning the doors and then the room with magic, Z detected nothing out of the ordinary and allowed Nivaradros to step through the doorway first and perform his own scan on the rooms. When he nodded to her, she stepped over the threshold and let the door close behind her.
She pulled out a map that she was only going to let Nivaradros see, and with a word activated the magic she had been adding for years. “Nivaradros?” she called as he continued to check for danger in their quarters. She had withheld information from the others in the meeting, but it was time now to reveal it to the Dragon—she had to trust someone.
“Zimliya?” he responded as he glanced at her around a doorframe.
“May I borrow you for a moment?”
Chapter 12
Three weeks later, Z saw the beginnings of Arriandri and felt a hint of relief touch her despite the dire state the world was in. For the past week and a half—since she had slipped from the Syallibion lands into the Alantaion kingdom—she had been dodging patrols, magic, and the wildlife of Arriandri in her attempt to make it to Arriandie without delay or injury. She had given up on food and water three days ago, and although she no longer required sleep, she did require the nutrients that food delivered, and she still needed to drink on occasion. But it wasn’t safe to stop. Patrols were more numerous than they had ever been when the Mithane had ruled, and Z could not afford to get caught.
At least not yet. Nivaradros would bring the Mithane and his forces, a detachment of Rangers, Syallibions, Ryelentions, Dralations, Nialtians, and a small group of mixed soldiers from the other human and mortal kingdoms. When that happened, she needed to be in a position to help aid their entrance into a kingdom with so much magic surrounding it, that even if Z had found the time to stop to eat, she would have been unable to—the magic in the air was making her feel slightly nauseated. She couldn’t, however, disperse it until the moment was right; destroying the shields and spells too early would only alert her enemies of her arrival sooner than she wanted. Not to mention it would require the use of magic—a lot of it.
Cursing as she sensed the approach of yet another patrol, Z considered her options rapidly. She couldn’t pin down this patrol’s abilities—they had magic though, but that was all she could pick up on—and she therefore didn’t know what their general approach to their job was. If they just marched by, she could hide, but if they scanned the area with magic she was in trouble. She moved forward in a hurry, though it wouldn’t do her any good if she ran into a different unit. Unfortunately, running into another group was a probability, as the past week and a half had shown the patrols overlapped every fifty feet.
A soft spoken Alantaion word reached her ears and Z bit back a curse. She had to move. Now.
Making her way through the dense forest surrounding Arriandie from the east—the way she had chosen to enter the lands—Z carefully let her senses open and her magic have free rein as she tried to decide the best course of action. Cursing as she felt a network of patrols working in a web around her, Z hesitated before taking another step and kept herself hidden as best she could—without magic—while she considered her dilemma.
She could attempt to contact one of the patrols and learn where the majority of Alantaions stood with regard to their exiled king, but if things went wrong, she would immediately be handed over to the immortal who had overthrown the Mithane’s rule and—depending on his loyalty to Midestol—she could find herself in Midestol’s grasp before she could even settle into the Alantaion dungeon, if they had such a thing.
It was a risk she had to take; the patrols were far too close. Moving fluidly and with silence across the ground, Z headed toward the small river that would provide her with the only chance of escape if things went bad. She was about five feet away from the edge of it when a patrol found her trail. Stopping where she was, Z let her packs fall from her shoulders and picked up a defensive stance while she waited.
She didn’t have to wait long. Less than two minutes later she was surrounded on three sides—the small drop to the river at her back was the only side the Alantaions didn’t attempt cover. She recognized the squad, and she was pleased to see its risyri—or sergeant in the human tongue—was likewise familiar. The shade of black his eyes had adapted when they met hers, however, was alarming.
“Zimliya—Z,” he whispered. “You shouldn’t have come here.”
“How bad is it, Fyenri?” she wanted to know. “Sergeant,” she added, using the mortal rank as he winced.
“Anyone who catches you is to put you to death immediately,” he told her with unease. He did not move to grab the sword that hung at his hip, nor did he give his squad a signal to seize her. “Your eyes,” he breathed as he continued to stare at her. “Are the rumors true?”
“About my immortality? Yes,” she told him with a bitter smile. “But I’m still not used to it.”
Fyenri smiled sadly at her and nodded, but he didn’t so much as move his hands. “And the rumors of your death?”
“False. It was close, very close, but I didn’t give in to the wounds I obtained in battle, though it did take some time to recover.”
“And the Mithane?” Fyenri asked in a hushed tone—walking a line of treason with his interest in his banished leader.
“Lives,” Z promised him. “Lives and is well. He is still under the protection of many who can be trusted to keep him safe.”
Fyenri held her gaze and nodded before signaling to the rest of his men. “I am sorry about this, Z,” he said. “But it is—to answer your earlier question—bad, and I cannot risk my family by attempting to shelter you. I know why you must be here, and I would support you if I could, but you do not know who you are up against.”
“Midestol,” she whispered as she took a step back. “And, Fyenri, I refuse to fight any of you.”
His squad moved toward her, but their movements were slow and their dismay obvious. Z didn’t blame them in the slightest for their decision. She was an outcast, and it sounded like their new ruler was cruel and dangerous to cross. She would not ask them to save or shelter her from his wrath. But she would not allow them to kill her. Not here, and not now.
“I cannot allow this,” she told them. “I am sorry…”
Rather than attack them and draw more attention to their location, Z raised her head and began to speak fluidly in Alantaion as she turned, reached down, grabbed her pack, and dove into the river behind her. Arrows pierced the water on each side of her, but before they could reach her, she felt the awareness she had been striving to reach awaken.
Water swirled around her like a whirlpool and although Z had been through this before—and through this with others, which she had learned was a bad idea—the feel of the river was colder than normal and the beads of water that occasional broke away from the whirlpool touched her skin with enough force to be a slap. Worried now that the Arriandin would not be on her side, Z knew better than to try and break free of the awareness’s hold, and instead closed her eyes as the water swirled faster around her.
She found herself dumped someplace familiar. And she was dumped there. The water dropped her about fifteen feet above the stone ground and Z managed to land on her feet only because she always expected the unexpected when dealing with an awareness that could be easily offended. Shaking droplets of water from her hair, Z drew herself up carefully and scanned her surroundings with magic and senses. Nothing. Not another being was with her.
Letting out a sigh of relief, Z grabbed her p
acks—which were soaked—and moved to the largest pool of water that the caverns beneath Arriandie hid. Closing her eyes for a moment, she took a seat on the edge of the pool and reached out with her senses. Even though it had been more than a year since the Mithane had accessed his talent by these waters, she could feel his presence lingering in the air. It calmed her, and it reassured her. Opening her eyes, she regarded the waters with care. They were deep—far deeper than the deepest areas of the oceans—and yet they were connected to nothing and nothing lived within them; they just were.
Whispering an Alantaion word that meant ‘awaken,’ Z smiled as the waters began to glow a soft charcoal color and small sparks of gold began to run vividly through it. Closing her eyes again, she reached for the core of the water’s power with ease and sank into a trance as she let the talent she so often denied roar to life within her.
A touch on her shoulder brought her back. Grabbing the hand, she twisted sharply to the left and forward while kicking out her right leg behind her in a snap. Releasing the hand that she had snatched, she felt the presence fly over the edge of the water and she couldn’t help but smile at the sound of a splash when the presence landed in the center of the water.
Sadly, he wasn’t a true being; he appeared beside her once more and Z blinked with surprise as she found herself face-to-face with an awareness that had adapted the form of the Dragon. “Was that necessary?”
“You should know better than to try to sneak up on me,” Z replied with an arrogant shrug. “And yes, it was. Besides—you’ve rarely taken a form with me before; you’re lucky I didn’t attempt to stab you.” Her tone was cool, distant, and furious. “What is your problem?” she demanded. “You’ve never dropped me with such violence before. I’m human, we take offense to things like that.”
A brow that didn’t quite match Nivaradros’s rose, and the eyes didn’t shift from the deep green of Dragon calm. “You’ve never been a possible threat before,” was the neutral reply.
“You perceive me as a threat?” Z asked in astonishment as she stared at the Arriandin.
“Not…yet,” the figure said unhappily. His form was belied by his squirming—Nivaradros was a Dragon, and Dragons did not squirm. “But I believe there is potential for you to become one. Had I deemed you a threat you would have had to fight your way out of the hands of the Alantaion squad who had found you rather than being relocated to a place of possible safety.”
“I would have surrendered if they hadn’t had standing orders to kill me,” Z said as her eyes closed. “My death would serve no purpose at this time though, so such a surrender would have been pointless.”
“‘No purpose’ remains to be seen.”
Her eyes flew open as the Arriandin watched her with cold neon. “Is it true that you have decided to overlook all of the Dragon’s past?” The lightning striking the ground was quieter than the Arriandin’s voice.
“I am not overlooking it!” Z snapped as white-hot anger encased her. “I know what he has done. I am not dismissing it, but I will not hold him accountable for it for the rest of his life—or mine. It’s stupid, a waste of time, and should I start listing all of the mistakes or disastrous events and occurrences the Alantaions have been responsible for since they made the transition into this world?”
“He murdered my people!” the Arriandin snarled back at her as he approached her still wearing Nivaradros’s form. “And you are defending him!”
“You know nothing about him,” Z hissed in a low tone. “Nothing at all. He is defending the true Mithane as we speak. He is protecting both the Mithane and the Mithani. He has changed, Arriandin! He is not the threat you have been told he is. The true threat sits on your throne!”
The Arriandin snorted, but he watched her for a moment and inclined his head. “You may have a point there, but the Dragon is a larger threat, and he has tricked you into thinking he cares for you.”
“He does,” Z argued. “He gave up much, he stayed by my side while I was dying not once, but twice, and he has worked tirelessly to keep the relationships I prize a part of my life and a part of the world. He will protect your people now—he will protect them for me.”
“And you trust his word?” the being scoffed.
“He surrendered his native form in order to remain by my side,” she whispered.
The Arriandin’s eyes went wide with surprise. “He…bound himself to his lesser form?” The hostility softened a hair. “Forever?”
“And the Mithane trusts him—are you abandoning the royal line that has ruled this kingdom since its arrival? Are you abandoning me because I am involved with the Dragon?”
“No…but I do not approve entirely. I was well aware of his injuries when you were forced to flee my walls last time—he shielded you and sent you to the side of the Mithane, but I thought perhaps it was just a game to him. Now…now I wonder. Is it true he has claimed you?”
“It is.”
“Then you are likely correct in your assumption he will protect the Alantaions because you demand it of him.”
Z rolled her eyes. One day she was going to kill someone who doubted the Dragon. Honestly, even the immortals should have been convinced of his dedication by now. At least convincing the building was easier than convincing her allies.
“He almost died fighting a war on my behalf—protecting beings he couldn’t care less about, but I asked it of him. Arriandin, he’s determined to do whatever it takes to keep me, and I think he’s starting to like the Mithane. I don’t know if they’ll ever trust each other enough to be friends, but the Mithane—the true one—trusts him with me.”
The not-Nivaradros snorted again. “So, you’re here to assassinate the Alantaion who is claiming the kingdom as his own?”
“Well, if I have to play assassin I will, but I would rather play spy and wait for the others to come back me up,” Z admitted. “But I have tackled entire courts before.”
“Believe that I know this about you. Very little slows you down for long, though your transition from mortal to immortal seems to have upset you more than any mere injury ever did. Either that, or the Dragon has seriously damaged you.” The Arriandin began to pace the area before her. “What did you see when you looked into the future. I felt you touch the power stored here. I will not inform the Mithane you can and do touch the waters even when you sleep miles from here, but I am always aware when you do so.”
Making a face at the awareness—and knowing full well there would be a lack of comprehension—Z closed her eyes again and sighed. “There are at least five possibilities…”
“You only like one of them?”
“Four of them would be considered acceptable by the Mithane, but, yes, I only prefer one of them.” Hesitating a moment, Z decided to test the Arriandin. “How aware are you of your ousted Mithane’s thoughts?”
“At the distance he is at this time? Hardly aware of him at all. I know he exists still and I know he was unwell for a time, but other than that I know little to nothing about him.”
It was what she had suspected, but not what she wanted to hear. Nodding, she debated whether to tell the Arriandin the Mithane’s latest surprise. He watched her while she gave into the human habit of pacing. “The Mithane made me…his heir,” she explained with care.
The Arriandin’s form stiffened for a moment. “Which means he is also supporting the Dragon to stand beside you while you rule his people.”
“Correct.”
“I don’t approve. You, alone, is one thing, but you with the Dragon is another.” He turned to regard her with those cold deep green eyes. “I’m sorry to have to do this to you, Zimliya—really I am, but I cannot allow the Dragon to have this kingdom.”
She winced at the threat in his tone and waited for his attack. It would be hard to fight him, and she didn’t want to injury him or destroy Arriandie, but she wasn’t about to just let him kill her either. She altered her stance with care, but all her plans were ruined as the world shifted beneath her, and Z found
herself dumped in the center of the throne room, where her arms were seized in a tight hold.
“So good of you to join us, Zimliya,” a dark but pleased voice rang out.
Z raised her eyes, and met and held the gaze of the immortal who had been trying to kill her for years, and who had successfully managed to force the Mithane to flee—though he had failed to kill the Mithane. Gaelitseli watched her with a dark smile. He gestured for the Alantaions holding her to bring her closer, and Z steadied herself for several possibilities. If he tried to kill her she would fight, but if he tried to break her she could turn it to her advantage; she needed to get within striking distance after all.
“If you wanted to see me sooner, you could have offered an invitation.”
His reply wasn’t in words. Standing, he moved away from the throne fluidly and delivered a blow to her stomach. It was not a light hit, but despite the force with which he struck, she managed to keep her smug smile on her face—as always, she was beyond feeling pain. Her smile, however, egged him on. He struck her again, and again, until the Alantaions holding her released her and allowed her to fall to her knees as he continued to strike her. Blood began to run into her eyes after one of the rings he had decorated his fingers with sliced through the skin on her forehead.
Only when she was bleeding from several areas did he cease. “Be glad I have a bargain to uphold, or you would be seeing the end of your immortal life this eve.” He turned to others in the room. “Take her to the dungeons and send a message to our ally to let him know she is in our grasp. He can come and pick her up at his leisure.”
Z brought her head up in defiance, but also took note of how many Alantaions were uncomfortable; how many refused to meet her eyes. They did not like her being beaten in front of them, as most of them were indebted to her directly, or knew of what she had surrendered to protect them. The only silver lining—well, she saw two—was that she didn’t have to worry about where she would be kept. Gaelitseli was not Midestol, and she would spend the night in the dungeon.