The Price of Survival

by Meagan Hurst

  “You’re wounded,” she remarked stiffly. “I felt your heart—I felt one of them stop, Nivaradros.”

  The Dragon’s brow rose, but he nodded tiredly. “But I am still standing, and I do not think it is safe to remain here. Was it the same attacker?” he wanted to know. “Because if it was I think I am now officially going to rip him to pieces.”

  She pulled against the Dragon’s hold, but pure stone had more give. “Yes and no,” she told him quietly. “Midestol’s backing him, so this time it was his spell, but Midestol’s magic.” Seeing Nivaradros’s disbelief, she scowled. “I believe I would recognize Midestol’s touch anywhere,” she snapped.

  The Dragon inclined his head in agreement. She could see he was tired. Tired, or in enough pain that his motions were now very contained and thought out. He trusted her—or her magic—to protect them, and that was a surprise. He did not even imply they needed to move. Instead Nivaradros kept his gaze sweeping for secondary attacks, but Z privately felt they weren’t coming.

  “Do you think anyone noticed there was an explosion?” Nivaradros wanted to know after a good fifteen minutes had passed and no one had shown up.

  “There was a silencing spell I couldn’t get to,” Z explained bitterly. There were other staircases, but Z didn’t want to damage the entire castle by taking them—she assumed they would likewise be spelled, though that felt a bit extreme—and she didn’t want to leave Nivaradros. He was capable of fending for himself—even in this state he was still a match for the majority of Alantaions one-on-one—but if a group of them came, Z felt his strength would be taxed, and she was unwilling to take the risk.

  “This was exceptionally poorly planned,” Nivaradros remarked suddenly. “Your sensitivity to magic gave you the heads up, even if it was a bit late, and your power greatly dwarves your attacker’s. Even with Midestol’s aid he couldn’t have expected this to work.” He glanced at her. “What do you think his angle is?”

  “Your death,” Z said without pause. She hadn’t wanted to say this aloud. “Apparently, feel honored, you are considered the larger threat. Or both of us together are.” She closed her eyes and let her thoughts continue running. “Damn.”

  Crilyne! she called silently, hoping the Shade was listening for her.

  Zimliya?

  She was going to kill him for his use of her name next time she saw him. Guard the Mithane. She didn’t have time to give him more than that split second of warning because she sensed the magic in the room go off.

  “Damn it to the hells!” she snarled.

  “What did I do now?” the Dragon demanded tiredly.

  “Not you,” she spat. “But this was arranged to keep us here if it didn’t kill us; the Mithane is under attack!”

  The Dragon’s eyes blazed in unexpected anger. “Go,” he ordered.

  “Nivaradros—”

  “I am not about to expire. Go to him,” he told her quietly.

  “The Shade is with him,” Z began slowly, but she wanted to go, and the Dragon saw it.

  “You are better protection, and Shevieck is not meant to rule yet. Go. I will be fine.” Nivaradros saw her hesitation and smiled. “I’m touched,” he told her softly. “But if he dies, you will never forgive yourself, and I cannot risk that. I will return to the rooms. If you leave your shield up, there is nothing that can harm me here, and you can take paths to the Mithane’s side that I cannot. Go, Z,” he ordered her sternly, but he was still smiling. “I am honored by your loyalty.”

  She nodded curtly, broke the shield she had created into two parts—so that he remained protected from any further magical assaults—and then sprinted from his side. She sent a silent plea to Arriandin to open Nivaradros’s wing for him alone, and then took a left down the hall she was running down.

  Two lefts, a right, and then another left brought her to what appeared to be a dead end. Exhaling smoothly, she placed her hands on a stone that didn’t look, sense, or feel out of place and felt the wall extend to surround her. Once the move was completed, Z resumed her dash and moved without a misstep up the stairs that appeared before her. The back way she used was sensitive to desire and control; she exercised both now. Instead of a maze that appeared when she had no destination in mind, she was presented only with a path—well, a path encased on all sides by stone—and she took it.

  Kyi’rinn shuddered several times in its sheath as she continued to run. It was a silent warning that there was fighting through much of Arriandie. For the first time since the Alantaions had arrived in her world, there was a struggle for power that extended all the way up to its Mithane; she could not let it succeed. Concern for Shevieck rose, but she forced it down and away. The Mithane could chose a worthy heir if Shevieck was killed—Shevieck, however, would be a disaster at this time if he became the Mithane.

  Crilyne, I am coming! she called to him as she turned more corners and reached another staircase. She pushed herself further and took the stairs five at a time. A fall here would be fatal, but time could have the same result on a different life. She had avoided coming home, but being here only reaffirmed the rightness of her decision. She belonged here, in this time, in these fights, and these people—no matter their race—were hers.

  The door she sought was within sight now, and she checked her speed slightly as she drew Kyi’rinn. The door dissolved before she could touch it and she emerged in a room full of fighting. Her talent kicked in. She knew at once where the Mithane was—the Shade protected him well—and she cut through anyone who was an enemy in her path.

  Doing so prevented the deaths of five of the Council, but in reality, she cared little if any of them died. Chevello would have been under her protection if she could find a way to spare it, but Chevello was dead—had been dead for months—and his death now gave her peace; it gave her freedom.

  She was aware all of the attackers were Alantaion. It meant there was a serious change in power that she needed to address at some point. Fighting her way to the Mithane shouldn’t have given her time to think about this now, but it was her, and she did. To have gotten this far undetected meant a breach in the Mithane’s private Guard. Reaching the Mithane’s side at long last, she took his right while Crilyne moved from being the Mithane’s only protection to watching his left side.

  “Z,” the Mithane greeted softly, politely, knowing she would hear him.

  She wanted to reply. If she could have offered him a smile she would have, but there were at least twenty Alantaions still fighting to reach the Mithane, and while Z could fight immortals in small groups without fear, such a large number was pushing her talents and her group closer to their limit than she wanted.

  She blocked a strike to her side with the flat of Kyi’rinn before she grabbed her attacker’s sword with her free right hand as she pivoted on one foot so she could kick the sword free with the other. The hilt burned her hand—she smelled the burning flesh—but she didn’t release the blade. The fact it was a sword of Kyi’rinn’s design surprised her, but she didn’t let that slow her.

  She ducked as a sword swung at her neck. Using both hands independently in the manner that had astonished Chevello to the point of concern until he had forced her to control it, Z used one sword to kill the attacker who was pressing her back, and the second she used to block a strike aimed at the Mithane’s side that she had left open for the split second it had taken her to kill the first attacker.

  Crilyne was using his magic sparingly—likely all he could do after the power he’d used during their last magic requiring event—but he didn’t shield; to shield here was the greater danger than to stand without one. Sometimes magic could be a bigger threat than the steel. Bodies were piling up quickly now, but Z saw among the fallen fabric that not all of them were the enemy; some of the Council had fallen already.

  Crilyne, we need to get him out of here.

  Agreed. Ideas?

  The Shade couldn’t be killed, and Z was grateful for it now more than ever. She could sense him waiting on her co
mmand, and she was silently thankful for his presence in a way she hadn’t been since they had first started working together. She noticed, then, that they had somehow ended up in front of one of the few windows in the room.

  We’ll go out the window.

  She heard his laughter: wild, breathless, but genuine. I hope he likes heights then. You have your rope?

  The question irritated her. Slicing through another two attackers, she let him feel her annoyance in silence before speaking again. Of course not. I thought we would just make a leap of faith and hope something caught us before the ground that is well over a thousand feet away did. Yes, I intend to use my rope!

  She felt his amusement, but he didn’t reply with words. His magic created a blast of power that knocked everyone back two feet no matter their shield, and Z took advantage of the time he bought. Moving around the Mithane, she kicked out the window Crilyne had cleverly placed him in front of.

  The window could not be broken from the outside—only from within, which was why Crilyne had moved the Mithane to a spot Z normally would have forbidden anyone to stand in front of—and it took effort now to break it. Magic was behind her kick though, and once the shattered pieces fell the long way to the ground as sharp, glittering snow, Z felt another blast of power behind her. Crilyne was keeping everyone at bay, but it would not stop arrows.

  “Mithane?” she asked softly as she reached his side. He wasn’t dangerously wounded, but his eyes told her how angry he was to have been attacked in such a manner as this. “We have to go,” she added.

  He nodded in silence and moved to the window. “I am going to hope you have a plan,” he remarked as he balanced on the ledge for a second while she blocked the arrows that flew towards them with Kyi’rinn’s flat. He leapt out the window a second later and she didn’t hesitate to follow him.

  Falling was never her favorite thing, but she had more experience at it than she cared to admit. Her rope, however, was useless here, as Z decided it too dangerous to return to Arriandie until they knew more about the forces attacking it. Pulling magic sharply instead, she did the only thing she could think of—the only thing she wasn’t comfortable doing. She used shadow. She felt the transition sharply, but as she had done with Nivaradros to flee Tenia, she ignored it and focused on catching the Mithane before the ground did.

  Her landing was slightly less graceful. She managed to land on her feet, but the crunch of bone told her something wasn’t happy—if she had to guess she would have picked one of her ankles—and when she took a step forward she recognized the awkward movement of her right leg. It was a minor concern at this time. Moving quickly to the Mithane’s side, she worked to ignore the fact her Shadowland once again had no shapes, forms, or anything else familiar within it.

  The Mithane’s eyes, however, caused her to pause before she reached him. “So, the rumor is true,” he said in a deadly tone. “You can control the shadows.”

  She flinched. “Not very well,” she countered.

  “That will come with time,” the Mithane said shortly, but his eyes stayed black and she knew he was tempted to kill her. She was tempted to let him. She didn’t recognize herself here, and the thought of how dangerous she could become caused her to consider eliminating herself before she became a threat. The Mithane’s eyes ran over her for a long moment in silence, and then they turned to the landscape of nothing around them. “Well, you might as well make it conform to your wishes. I do not approve of this power, Zimliya.”

  She knew. She knew of the Mithane’s distrust of this element, but it had been her only option to keep him safe.

  “And how else was I to safely extract you from the chaos of Arriandie?” she asked in a low tone. “It is not safe there for anyone. Nivaradros and I were attacked after he received your summons, and I had to leave him behind to reach you in time.”

  “Nivaradros is wounded?” the Mithane breathed in surprise. She could tell he wanted to know just how badly, and she closed her eyes at the memory. She hated hearing the small amount of possible delight in his tone.

  “He shielded me,” she explained as her anger was shattered by the memory of the Dragon’s wounds. “The staircase was set to explode when we stepped on it and got to a certain point. I sensed it, but it was too late or someone was watching. He put his back to the blast and made sure I was as protected as he could make me.” Her eyes closed. “I would have grabbed Shevieck, but you were more important. He is still not ready to rule, and I had to choose.”

  She sat down on the non-descript floor of the shadows and opened her eyes as she felt a small amount of magic awaken around her. She had no idea what she had done, but the world began to grow forms at long last. It was similar to last time. Plants, rocks, a sky, water and ground, but there was no path to follow this time, likely because she couldn’t decide where to take the Mithane.

  She glanced at her right ankle and sighed. It was decidedly broken—bone poking through flesh left little to argue against. She began to maneuver the bones back into some sort of order when a pair of hands covered hers. She flinched, but did not reach for Kyi’rinn, as the Mithane gently pulled her hands away from her ankle.

  “Allow me,” he advised softly. “I would like to heal more than just this injury,” he added cautiously, as his now solid brown eyes moved to meet hers. “Like your hand.”

  She blinked and looked at her hands. The right one was burned from the second sword she had grabbed—she dimly remembered tossing it away before she had jumped—and blood ran down her arm in long lines. Blisters had already been broken. She sighed as she looked the hand over. It would be a while before she could use it without making it worse without a healing, not that that would have stopped her.

  “Go ahead,” she agreed after a long pause. The magic caused the hair on her neck to stand on end, but since this was a common enough occurrence she almost didn’t notice it.

  When the Mithane moved away, she blinked and glanced at her hand. It was whole, unblemished, and smooth. Her ankle was likewise healed. “Thank you,” she murmured softly.

  The Mithane stared at her. “I cannot decide if your time away did you harm or good. You are different from how you used to be, but not as different as I was told.”

  “You spoke to Crilyne earlier?” she asked him softly.

  “He has some reservations over your interactions with Nivaradros, and how much you changed during your time away.” The Mithane pressed his lips together tightly. “And you returned in time to see me overthrown by my own people. There was an undercurrent of turmoil in the air lately, but I thought it was based off of Nivaradros’s presence in Arriandie as opposed to something of this magnitude. I presume you have a theory of why it occurred?”

  “I think I know what Midestol has been up to, yes,” she said quietly. “Despite the fact your attackers were Alantaions, Midestol’s power was backing a lot of their magic. There must be an alliance between them. Have you been in contact with Zyrhis recently?” she wanted to know. Of all the kingdoms, she couldn’t think of a safer place to stash the Mithane—provided Zyrhis wasn’t under attack himself.

  “I have. He is remarkably different from his father,” the Mithane added softly, clearly surprised. “He has offered Tezérac supplies and aid if they require it. He had some minor difficulties in the beginning within his kingdom, but I believe they have all been handled and he has moved the kingdom out of their war city and back to Istuion.” He regarded her evenly. “You plan to take me there?”

  “It is the safest place I can think of for the moment. Until I can narrow down who is not trying to kill you in Arriandri, I don’t want to have to be glued to your side. I suspect a couple people, but until I can see them head on and know for certain their magic is the magic I saw tangled with Midestol’s, I do not want to risk naming a possible ally as an enemy. You have enough of them right now as it is.”

  Z stood and began to walk without concern. A path began to form beneath her feet as her mind made up where they were going,
and the Mithane joined her without hesitation as she moved confidently in the direction that appeared to be going nowhere in particular. They walked in silence—the Mithane not bothering to tend to his minor wounds, and Z knowing better than to mention them—for several hours before Z raised her hand sharply in silence. The Mithane paused with ease, and Z closed her eyes to focus better on what she felt. She was starting to feel the pull of extreme exhaustion, and her hands shook slightly down by her sides as she forced herself to focus on the light touch on her senses. It was harder than it should have been, and it frustrated her greatly.

  “The Islierre is nearby,” she murmured softly to the Mithane. “I believe he is attempting to find out who, or what, made this place.”

  “Can he reach us?” the Mithane wanted to know.

  “Due to my lack of training with this element? I presume so, but I will not say for certain one way or the other. I would be comfortable telling you; however, if he attempts to reach us it is highly unlikely I could block him. He has had millenniums to work on his control and mastery of the element few people believe exists; I have done this now twice, and not with any knowledge of what I am doing. If he wants to break through he will, or we could save him the hassle and make ourselves known.”

  “I would rather not deal with him now.”

  “I imagine he feels the same about you,” Z replied dryly. “It’s your call, but make it quickly.”

  Chapter 4

  The Islierre arrived with admirable coolness. His gaze barely moved over the Mithane, but it fixated on her and Z saw his lips curl up into a slightly friendly—but dangerous—smile.

  “I see the rumors are true,” he murmured. “You have returned at long last. Well met, Zimliya,” he greeted formally. His eyes were a light copper color as they really examined her after his calm greeting, and she saw a brow rise in surprise. “I am unsure if I have ever seen you in this fine of form,” he remarked offhandedly. “Your time away seems to have returned you to us in better condition than I could have expected had you stayed here.”