by Meagan Hurst
“I am the ruler—unofficially—of three immortal kingdoms. I am the so-called heir of a fourth.”
“And you despise it.”
“If I had wanted the world to be ruled by a single being, I would have either handed it over to the Dragons or I would have let Midestol have a free run of it!”
“Ah. There is what you seek.”
The desire to hit someone had rarely been this powerful. Baryaris watched her with a level of interest that alarmed her, and she could tell her inability to gain traction on this conversation was something he was enjoying.
“I beg your pardon?” she ventured in resignation.
“You do not like to make decisions that do not pertain singularly to your own life. Crilyne, the kingdoms, your magic, your interactions with the Rangers, and fighting Midestol are actions that impact others.” Once more, he returned to his chair. “I approve of your caution,” he added, “but as I am not from your time; it is safe to discuss it with me.”
She raised a brow. “Mostly, of course,” she added with a small grimace.
“All things should be considered in moderation; when anything hits the point of excessive the saying ‘all hell breaks loose’ comes into play.” The elder Ranger smiled. “My advice is this: ignore the Shade until you are ready to face him and comfortable with the punishment you have chosen—unless he forces your hand—resign your council seat with our people, and continue being yourself. Continue to grow. Do not let Crilyne’s actions bring self-doubt. I am glad I will never have to worry about being offered immortality, the boons it has brought upon you frighten me.”
“You have no idea,” she groaned. “I knew before I accepted immortality that I didn’t want it, but I live with the constant reminder of why I didn’t want it without being able to dismiss it. Immortal hearing, memory, eyesight, and balance are not the blessings people think they are. And even if they were, they come with darker side effects. I will watch people I care about age and die; immortals I trust may betray me; I will be able to recall all of the darker moments of my past, without losing any of its clarity to time; and others I have not yet considered.”
“I would not enjoy that. I have days where my faded memory is too good.” Her grandfather—she refused to add the ‘great’ in there every damn time—offered her a dry chuckle. “And you have come,” he said with a strange light in his eyes, “to speak to me before my death.”
“Seer,” she sighed. He nodded once in agreement. “You are also seeking something from me.”
“Seer,” Baryaris teased, mimicking her tone. “I should have known throwing this onto you still wouldn’t manage to keep you from knowing I was after something. I had to try,” the Ranger told her as his tone dipped toward mournful. “I know of my demise, and I know how it comes about. I have, however, other options since I have this knowledge, and I intend to turn my demise into something greater than it would otherwise become. Do you know of the Dragon known as the Warlord?”
Nivaradros. Now she knew why he had backed out of joining her. Something happened with him and her—something he worried would change her view on him. As he was the Warlord in this time period, Z wasn’t surprised, but she was apprehensive. “What about him?” she asked with care.
“Does he still exist in your time?”
“He exists as Nivaradros; he is no longer the Warlord.”
Baryaris was caught off guard. “He is a member of the Dragon Council?”
“Negative, he is an outcast, but he is not the threat to the lands he once was…he is—most of the time—an ally. He has fought alongside most of the races and they tentatively trust his aid.”
“I would have never guessed the Warlord would become an ally. How is he with the Rangers?”
“He’s not fond of the mortal races, but he is getting better,” Z admitted. She knew a smile snuck out over her face and she saw a brown brow arch up in surprise.
“You like the Warlord?”
“Nivaradros has come a long way, Baryaris,” she told him. “He is the sole immortal who was unwilling to have me declared dead after Tenia’s destruction, and he is the only reason I made it to immortality; he refused to give up when the seizures struck. I consider him a friend,” she added. “Though that does alarm some of my allies.”
“It alarms me,” the de la Nepioa admitted. “But I trust your judgment, and if you think you can talk to him without getting eaten, I would be grateful. Tell him I accept his offer, and if he will agree on a time and place, I will be there.”
Those terms were not comforting, but Z forced herself to nod. “Where is the Warlord located?”
“He’s been busy,” Baryaris told her as he abandoned his chair and headed over to the small desk in the room. Picking up a thick stack of papers he handed them to her and resumed his seat. “Those are all the attacks he has been linked to in the past month. Three hundred fifty-seven in total.”
“In other words, you don’t know where he is.”
“He has a two hundred foot wingspan—he can fly cross-country in three weeks. We know when he’s in the area because he does not fly over silently. We’ve injured him, but not enough to slow him down. Fifteen Dragons attacked him two weeks ago over our lands, and it rained blood for hours. Thirteen of the attackers fell in the battle; the Warlord took one non-fatal wound.”
“Who were the two surviving Dragons?”
“Jarnadras and Karisdros. I take it you know them?” Baryaris murmured when she blinked.
“I do, I prefer Nivaradros to them,” she added. She knew of the battle he was talking about though. Nivaradros had been ambushed and it had further turned him from giving up his Warlord title. It had taken him another two thousand years to stop his random attacks, and another thousand to be somewhat approachable. Knowing his past as she did, Z knew Baryaris saw Nivaradros as just one step below Midestol, and with the way the Dragon was acting in this time, she couldn’t blame him.
“Really? I wish I could meet your Nivaradros,” Baryaris informed her with a shake of his head. “What did those two do to you, if I may ask.”
“Forced me to kill them,” Z told him. “And no, I won’t go into details.” They had been trying to kill Nivaradros at the time, and Z had had no choice in the matter. She hated slaying immortals—especially Dragons, but they had forced her hand, and she couldn’t say she regretted saving Nivaradros. Nivaradros’s strength had been compromised by a previous battle with his kind, and those two Dragons had arrived with seven others. Nivaradros had taken out six, she’d finished the final three. But Nivaradros’s wounds had been severe and he’d been in a bit of a mood when she’d tried to offer him aid.
Pressing her lips together, she considered what she had been told about Nivaradros and sighed. “I’ll leave to find him today,” she told Baryaris. “If nothing else, I can get a pinpoint on his location through his magic. I’ve worked with him enough to know what it feels like.” She had been with him enough, in fact, to know the Dragon muted his power similar to the way she hid hers.
“You recall where we house our weapons and our supplies?” he asked her as she headed to the door. At her nod, he moved to the window in the room. “Take anything you think you might need and be careful. The Warlord is a tricky and dangerous Dragon, and he does not like to speak with anyone.”
“Not even Veilantras?” Z voiced.
“Not at this moment. They had an argument, and she won’t tell me what it was about. Do you wish to speak with her?”
She did not want to meet both Dragons in their past if she could help it. “I don’t think it would aid me. If I have to, I can always contact her later.” Leaving the room before he could reply, Z made a quick exit out of the wing as well. She passed Rangers often, but these Rangers were more serious and closed mouthed than the Rangers of her time; the most she got from any of them was a nod.
Since she had an offer to take what she needed, Z grabbed extra daggers, extra clothing, food, and maps of the existing lands. Currently, a few Dra
gons lived outside the isle and Z had to be extra careful when crossing their territories. She didn’t like to travel around the world in the past—it could disrupt things in the present—but Baryaris wanted her to seek out Nivaradros, and she was curious to see what it would be like to meet the Warlord. She was hopeful she would survive.
Wishing she had Shanii, she headed out on foot late the following morning. Having taken the time to speak with the Rangers around to find out who to avoid, who to contact, and where Nivaradros was likely to be found since he didn’t seem to stay put for long, she had a general idea of where she was going. Arriandri looked different than it did in her time. Stopping on the outskirts of the city, she glanced back and took note of the drier condition of the land. While she knew the Rangers had been well received by the kingdom, it was clear Arriandri prospered better under Alantaion hands.
After four hours of walking through a forest, Z wondered if she could bring the rain that had been falling in her time. She even considered bringing the rain briefly, before her logic returned and the consequences of that decision began to appear in her mind. She was, however, scarcely paying attention to her surroundings. As a powerful presence abruptly registered close, Z shed her thoughts for weapons and whirled on the Dragon who was following her.
Neon green eyes met hers with an almost murderous rage. Despite the fact she knew him in the present, Z found herself grasping her daggers and taking a step back. It had been a while since she had seen Nivaradros in his native form. Though he was about a hundred feet shorter than he had been in her time, he was still huge and seemed a little bit insane. She hadn’t expected to find him this soon, and she would have to tread carefully around him.
“Imagine my surprise when I find a human wandering all by itself through a patch of forest that is not close to any other human-populated area.” A very familiar voice said in Dragon.
Nivaradros approached like a predator. Hating the look in his eyes, Z took another step back. She could tell he expected that much from her, but the fact she wasn’t speaking also put him on guard and made him curious—though he hid it well.
“Does it speak?” the Dragon almost purred in a threatening tone. The Warlord was judging her as she stood, and she could tell he was both interested in her and vexed to no end that she hadn’t fled. He appeared to be debating what to do with her, and she didn’t plan to act until he did. The results of his thought process became clear; he snorted smoke to blind her and struck. She didn’t, however, stay in the smoke and allow him to attack her.
Rolling to her feet two yards from where she had been, she eyed Nivaradros as he whirled and moved to strike again. He used the smoke tactic twice more and she avoided his attacks by mere inches because she knew his style. As he closed a fourth time, she threw caution to the winds and drew Kyi’rinn—grateful once more that the sword was always with her if she wanted it.
“Enough, Nivaradros!” she snapped at him in his own language.
It had the effect she had expected; the Dragon froze. “It speaks a proper tongue,” the Dragon sneered. He approached her once more and she held up the sword in front of her but across her chest—ready to block him from striking.
Kyi’rinn chose that moment to begin to glow and Nivaradros paused once more as his eyes focused on the sword. “That is an immortally crafted weapon.” Neon green was growing hotter by the second, but the Dragon halted and evaluated her as more than just a mere annoyance. Curiosity was weak but present, and she knew she had a shot at surviving. Dragon features were harder to judge since they gave so little away, but her senses were running at their height and they allowed her to tell he was—thankfully—interested. She could handle interested.
“It was a gift,” she answered at long last. “Something you know little about.”
“Indeed.” And he was amused. Since that was safer than curious or enraged, she relaxed a little more. “Do you have a name, Human?” The disgust he managed to put in that one word should have been impossible, but, as it was expected, she did not react to it. At least, she thought she didn’t. Nivaradros hissed. “You are a human…?”
“It’s a long story, but the short version is yes, I am human.”
“Mortal?” Nivaradros wanted to know as his scales began to settle. She didn’t know what to make of his mood. He hadn’t shown this much interest in her the first time they had met—well, since this was the past, this was the first time he had met her. When she had first met him, it would have been his second meeting. Time travel at its finest.
“No.”
“Interesting.” He paused for a minute. “You refer to me as Nivaradros, but that is not my name.”
“It is,” she snapped at him. “Whether or not you sit on the Council you are an adult. A hatchling would not be able to achieve what you have.”
“Who are you?” Nivaradros whispered as he stared at her. “You are not, in any way, on the same level of human that I have seen so far.” He no longer had any desire to harm her, and she could tell he instead sought to keep her close, to keep her talking.
“I am a Ranger,” she informed him. “And I have a proposal for you.”
“A Ranger who is immortal, carries a blade crafted by Alantaion hands—which is a curiosity in itself since they do not exist in this world—and has a proposal for me. This day may end up being one of my favorites. Speak up then,” Nivaradros advised. “And speak quickly.”
“Baryaris has accepted your offer. He sent me to find you to tell him a time and a place.” She gave him a cold look and then shrugged. “If you think you can beat me, Dragonlord, go ahead and try.”
Her challenge didn’t infuriate him. Her words prior to the challenge seemed to have caught most of his attention. “You are to bring him here, tomorrow,” Nivaradros told her after a short pause. “The two of you are to come alone. You will witness it or there will be no bargain.”
“The death of another is not going to break me, Dragon,” she told Nivaradros as she reined in her anger, realizing what Baryaris intended. This was why Nivaradros had backed out of being with her. He feared this part of their past. She wondered just how bad it would become. Handing over her grandfather for a death sentence to the darkest Dragon of the age brought to mind several outcomes.
“Not you, no,” Nivaradros agreed. “For a human you seem almost cold. But it will cripple his people, and that’s what I am after. Scurry off, human, I have things to do.”
She obeyed—mostly. Pausing when she was two hundred feet from him, she turned to face him. “You’re wrong about the Rangers, Nivaradros,” she warned him. When he didn’t reply she headed off, moving with speed to return to Arriandie.
Her return went smoothly until her path was blocked. Six creatures she would have never considered a possibility stood before her. They sported two heads, six eyes, and lethal looking claws and fangs. Intelligence also glittered in the depths of their silver eyes and Z hoped she didn’t have to remove both their heads in order to defeat them. She also hoped the heads shared one brain. Sparring with independently thinking two-headed creatures would not end in her favor.
Trying to form a plan of attack since escape wasn’t in the cards, Z slid Kyi’rinn free as the first creature charged. It was going to be one of those “trial by blood” days. The strategy she had intended to follow became useless when the charging creature slid to a halt, whirled, and attempted to double barrel her in the chest like a horse. Having anticipated the creature attacking like a bear Z cursed, hit the ground, and rolled as the creature charged again with both heads snapping at her.
Bringing Kyi’rinn down through one of the necks as a head came within range, Z was relieved when the creature collapsed. Thank magic for small mercies, she’d only have to behead these things once. But she didn’t have time to dwell on her luck; a second creature rushed her from behind. Cutting through its left front leg, she rolled to the side as one of the heads almost caught her with its jaws. Cursing as she found her feet, Z struggled to block claws and teet
h as the creature tried to reach her with both. The other creatures, as far as she could tell, were hanging back.
At least until the creature that she was engaged with sprouted a coat of flames and lost all interest in its human prey. Sensing movement from her right, Z whirled to attack, only to find Nivaradros diving in between her and her attackers. Landing between her and the remaining creatures, Nivaradros was quick to snap up two of the creatures in his jaws before two remaining creatures fled. Feeling a bit confused about this situation, Z remained armed until Nivaradros snorted smoke and turned to regard her with some curiosity.
“Your fighting style needs some refinement.” Nivaradros observed. To her surprise and relief, the Dragon’s eyes were close to their normal dark passive green. Still caught off guard by his arrival, Z managed to do little more than stare at him. “You wear something I made,” Nivaradros began in a tone that sounded like he was trying to offer her an explanation. “And you know me from somewhere. Letting you die seems…inadvisable.”
Z wasn’t sure what was the best way to respond. She opted with a safer route. “Thank you,” she told the Dragon as she checked herself over for wounds and returned Kyi’rinn to its sheath.
“Does my aid mean you will surrender your name?” Nivaradros inquired.
“Z.”
“Interesting. Do you presume choosing a letter makes you less significant than you are?
“Not exactly, I just happen to prefer the shortness of it.”
The Dragon offered her a strange smile. “I see. Well…since you’re out of danger, I will take my leave. Tomorrow at noon, Z.”
And she thought her Nivaradros was confusing. “Tomorrow at noon,” she agreed before watching as the Dragon managed to slip back into the forest without a sound. She wondered how he managed it without being attacked by a tree, but it appeared he was an expert at avoiding obstacles on the ground—she wondered if anyone else in this age knew just how crafty the Dragon was.