by Meagan Hurst
“I am not even going to ask how that’s working out for you,” the figured sighed. Z heard his approach and tried to stir in surprise. The sound of approach was horse-like; he approached with hoofbeats. “She is a Ranger?”
“She is,” Nivaradros confirmed. “You know of her?”
“No, I do not, but then again the Rangers were supposed to have died out over a millennium ago. I am heartened to learn otherwise. I know the title ‘de la Nepioa’ though, and if my knowledge is not outdated she would be only the second to carry that title.”
“You are correct,” the Dragon assured whomever he was speaking to; whomever he had brought her to. “And as such she is crucial to our chances of defeating Midestol’s forces should he once again come out of his lands to attempt to take what is not his.” He hesitated for a moment, and Z could almost feel him weigh his words before he spoke again. “She has accomplished much. She is not like most mortals, and she is nothing like most humans. The Alliance has been reestablished on her word alone, and all of those within it respect her; their heirs are loyal to her and now, each other.”
“Impressive. Perhaps I should pay greater attention to the world’s movements if such events are going on and such beings exist. She is in horrible shape, Nivaradros. What happened?”
“She awoke the eight Shades of Yvsina,” Nivaradros explained patiently.
“She woke—Alone?” the voice demanded sharply.
“It was not one of her best decisions,” the Dragon concurred. “But we did need them when we destroyed Tenia.”
“Destroyed—Never mind, I do not want to know.” Nivaradros’s acquaintance sighed. “Forty years,” he breathed. “That is a lot of years for the shortest lived of the mortal races to offer up. I will make you no promise, Nivaradros. She is nearly gone, but I will try to aid you. The price, however, will be triple. Triple the price of the highest dealing. This will cost a great deal of magic on my end; I mean for you to match it in your own fashion.”
“Done,” Nivaradros agreed without pause. “Where do you want me to move her?”
“Somewhere that does not have Shanii nearby. I recognize him. Does he serve you or her?”
“Neither, but Z—Zimliya—is his rider. She has been his rider for over a decade. They work well together.”
“I see. And you?”
“He has yet to try to kill me,” Nivaradros responded wryly. Z felt him lift her from the stallion’s back and she was once again reminded that the Dragon always felt warmer than she considered normal.
“He must have not been subjected to your presence for any length of time,” was the stranger’s jesting reply. The last of the chill had left his tone, and Z almost detected a touch of camaraderie in the unknown being’s voice. It made this whole thing surreal. Just who was this being Nivaradros had brought her to?
The Dragon carried her with ease and seemed to know where he was going enough that Z left her mind drift. “Is here good enough?” he asked suddenly, startling her back into attentiveness.
“As good as any place. I make you no promises, Nivaradros,” the speaker repeated quickly. “But I will try to help. I would like to meet this Ranger friend of yours. You are known to dislike mortals, and I confess I have a curiosity in the young human who claims an almost unclaimed title among the Rangers.”
Chapter 6
She awoke to the feel of lips on her forehead. Lips that reminded her of Shanii’s, though they were not, and they nibbled absently on her hair briefly before Z reacted. Bringing up her hands without thought, she grabbed the object she could sense as she rolled to the side and out of the way—realizing at once that her ability to move should not have been possible. Releasing the horn her hands had grabbed as her eyes opened, Z stared at the silhouette illuminated by the brush of light that was escaping over the horizon. Her mind quickly registered what she was seeing, but she had a hard time believing it. The being before her was supposed to be extinct.
“I take it she grabbed your horn?” Nivaradros sighed as he appeared over the peak of a hill to her right. He was staring at her hands so her eyes were drawn there was well. Blood and blisters covered them and Z winced slightly as she braced herself for an argument or an accusation from the Dragon.
“Your words of caution were clearly something I should have heeded,” the being—the unicorn—remarked in amusement. “She does have some impressive reflexes.” Shaking his head and neck the unicorn approached with care. “Greetings, Zimliya, or perhaps I should say proper greetings.” His silver eyes seemed to dance with amusement. “Nivaradros has told me a great deal about you.”
“If it is at all flattering, he’s lying,” Z said tiredly as she unfolded from the crouched position she had taken and examined the being before her with attention to detail.
He was tall—taller than Shanii at over seventeen hands—and his coat was a black that shone with a hint of blue it was so pure. His horn extended a good three feet off the middle of his forehead and his rich forelock split evenly in the center to seemingly encase it. There was not a scar on his hide, and his coat promised a sleekness and velvet-like feel that could rival Shanii’s. His hooves were not the cloven hooves of his distant cousin—the smaller, goat-like Lryisa—but resembled a horse’s instead. His eyes, however, were a soft silver, and their color provided instant comfort and peace.
She could sense his magic. His power was unmistakable, but it didn’t cause hers to bridle, and she managed to keep her mouth from falling open. This was a being—an immortal—that was supposed to have fallen extinct years prior, before the Rangers had been attacked by Tenia and nearly disappeared completely themselves. Tenia, unsurprisingly, had also been the reason behind the disappearance of both the being before her, and their lesser cousins. She wondered how many of his kind still remained, and how many Lryisas—if any—had likewise survived Tenia’s hunting.
Realization struck her soundly then; the individual before her was part of a race renowned for their healing powers. Nivaradros had apparently known this particular one for some time. Long enough that a tentative friendship had sprung up between the two, and long enough for the Dragon to have sought out his help both in the past, and again now that she had been running out of time. She was curious, then, of the history between the two, but she doubted she would discover what it was. She didn’t want to ask.
A part of her was willing to acknowledge that Nivaradros had possibly fought to protect the race when the Tenians had decided to brand them as talking animals and slaughtered them for their magic. It was not a pleasant thought, and Z quickly forced it from her mind. Getting it to leave her thoughts was easier than she expected, but the being began to speak again, and she focused on his words.
“With what I know about you now, I highly doubt that.” Striding forward easily the unicorn—correctly called a Kryhista—lowered his head to examine her burned hands. “I would advise you to not grab my horn again,” he told her with a small smile. As he was decidedly equine, his smile should have been hard to distinguish, but it wasn’t, and she found him entirely unthreatening. Since even Nivaradros was still a threat to her over-zealous radar she was surprised, and slightly pleased by her reaction to the Kryhista. “May I repair the damage my horn inflicted on your poor hands—do you really not feel that?”
Z cringed but offered out her hands. “Didn’t the Dragon explain it to you?” she wanted to know as she glanced over her shoulder at Nivaradros.
“He did,” the immortal being confirmed. “But I found it rather hard to comprehend. I will not doubt him again. He seems to know you quite well, and it is clear you two work well together.” Silver eyes held hers when she brought her attention back to him. “That is not what I need to speak with you about though, young Zimliya. Walk with me if you would; we need to discuss the events that brought you here to begin with.”
Nivaradros inhaled sharply and moved to follow, but the unicorn—the Kryhista—swung his black head around to face the Dragon and his black horn began to glow
a soft blue color. Nivaradros instantly froze, but Z could hear his teeth grinding from where she stood.
“Dyslentio, I wish to follow,” the Dragon growled.
“I will not harm her, Nivaradros, but what I speak to her is for her ears alone. For now. She may choose to inform you of what she feels safe disclosing afterwards, but in case she wishes to withhold some information from you, I need you to remain here.”
Nivaradros’s gaze was murderous, but he nodded curtly and remained where he was. His eyes were blazing with anger, but Z could tell he would respect Dyslentio’s request and it made her curious. She had never seen the Dragon back down from anyone this quickly—not even Veilantras—and she wondered again how such a relationship between the Dragon and the Kryhista could have begun, much less continued to exist. Seeing her pause at his anger, Nivaradros managed a tired and yet amused smile.
“He will not harm you,” he assured her. “I am content—enough—to wait.”
Nodding slowly, Z moved to follow the Kryhista and she let him lead her some distance away from the Dragon. It was about a twenty minute hike, and little of it was flat. By the time Dyslentio paused, Z’s clothing was drenched in sweat, and she was breathing slightly fast, neither of which pleased her. She moved to sit on a large rock that was half submerged beneath the earth it rested upon and then she waited for the immortal whose race was supposed to be extinct to speak.
He watched her—the sun rising behind him and causing his shadow black coat to gleam with power—with interest and a faint amount of surprise. “You are something,” he said at long last when she made no move to speak.
He walked forward with ease and gently extended his muzzle towards her. She offered him her hand slowly in response and he touched the burns his horn had caused. She watched as the wounds shrank and then healed completely on her one hand before she slowly offered him her other one. This one he healed as well, but when he was finished he reached out with care and nuzzled her side. When she made no move to attack him, Dyslentio chuckled and took a step back while shaking his head and neck.
“You truly are worthy of the Dragon. I am uncertain as to whether or not he is worthy of you.”
“He is,” Z answered quietly before she realized what she was saying. “He’s always had my back, and he’s always managed to curb his habits when we’re working together.”
The Kryhista chuckled softly again, and his silver eyes relaxed. “Your answer pleases me,” he admitted. “I have known Nivaradros for some time, but you are the first mortal—the first anything—he has brought here—granted there is more than one reason for that. The remaining members of my kind and I prefer no one knows of us. Nivaradros and one other of a different race are the only beings who knew we still live. Yet in this case, I believe the knowledge of my existence is well entrusted with you. The Rangers were thought to be extinct as well, but here you are, and what the Dragon told me is clearly true.”
Shaking his head—which scattered his long mane over both sides of his neck—Dyslentio judged her as he spoke again. “I saw and learned much about you when I made the effort to heal you where I could. Your injuries required a higher level of power than I usually have to call upon. The healing was therefore intrusive. Does that threaten you?”
Z managed a tired smile. “Even if it did I would not threaten you. You and your kind have done much for this world and I honor that. Besides,” she added quietly. “Many people know what you do about me—and they learned of it from words I, myself, spoke. How can I deny you what I gave others? Especially following the gift you have granted me by healing me.”
“Your manners are exquisite,” Dyslentio remarked with an air of surprise. “Even for a Ranger they are surprising.” He continued to watch her, judging her further, before speaking again. “Who will you tell of my existence?”
“No one who you do not wish to know of it; I am a Ranger after all,” Z replied with a thin smile.
“A Ranger of some merit judging by your title,” Dyslentio murmured as he suddenly bent and laid himself down in the deep rich grass beneath him. “Sit,” he said with a touch of an order in his tone. “I must explain to you how things will progress if you wish to remain alive for some months.”
On that sobering reminder of why she had been brought here, Z moved from her rock to the deep, damp grass the Kryhista was lying on, and brought her knees up to her chest. She opened her mouth to speak, but the Kryhista shook his head once and she fell silent. Instead he stared off into the distance for a time and Z concentrated on getting the feel of the land while running words through her mind in case she ever got a chance to speak. The land here was ancient—of course, their world was—but it had been untouched by anything other than the creatures that grazed or hunted upon it. It was as though she had stepped back to seven millenniums ago, and she truly enjoyed the feel of her surroundings while she waited for Dyslentio to speak.
It took time, but like any other immortal Z had ever met, she found Dyslentio would not be rushed. Since she needed the information he offered she remained silent until he was ready to speak.
“This is not a fix,” he began sternly.
“I am aware of it,” she replied evenly, sensing his need for a reply. “I am not looking for a cure. I knew what I was offering when I awakened the Shades. I did not even ask for this, Nivaradros is behind it completely. I will, however, pay you myself for your services.”
There was a dry chuckle from the Kryhista. “I don’t think you can afford it,” he warned as he regarded her with interest.
“Try me,” was her cool reply.
Dyslentio chuckled again, but he did answer and Z stared at him in astonishment. “I said you would be unable to afford it,” the being pointed out smugly.
“I plan to pay it!” Z snapped. “I will pay in portals; you accept that, do you not?”
“You must have done a lot of favors if you have enough to pay me with magic,” the Kryhista remarked softly.
“I make portals,” Z told him shortly. Her eyes closed with exhaustion suddenly, and she grimaced as a wave of dizziness followed. When she opened her eyes, she found Dyslentio mere inches from her.
“You need to stay calm,” the Kryhista said quietly. “You are still very, very weak and you have the chance to slip into death at any moment. I can only offer you so much aid. You will also need to come back here often for healings if you intend to survive longer than a few weeks. With what Nivaradros told me I should expect you to come for as long as we can cheat your fate.”
Z managed a bitter smile. “The world still has its wars,” she agreed. “And I need to protect those I can for as long as I am able. How lessened can I expect to be?”
Dyslentio’s pause told her he was surprised. “You are extraordinary,” he breathed at long last before mouthing at the grass underneath his muzzle for a moment. “Of all the questions you could ask—of all the things you could say—you ask solid, important ones, you offer to take on the debt Nivaradros has already agreed to pay, and you seek to protect those you care for, but do not trust. I see why the Dragon likes you. You are not the typical human, even for a Ranger.”
His silver eyes flickered with unease. “You will be lessened, but as I have never seen you fight, nor do I know your general abilities, I cannot give you an honest answer. Nivaradros says you are tough—what I have seen so far both while I was healing what I could, and how you handle things now confirms this—but each person responds to events in their own manner, and I have never attempted to heal someone who was slated for death by a Shade awakening price.”
“What did Nivaradros tell you?” she asked with care. She wasn’t big on enlightening many on her particular qualities, but most of them had been leaked over the years, and Z also knew Dyslentio needed to know much to make an accurate guess on how often she would have to return to him. If he truly meant to let her return.
“Simply that you are the only human who is worth her weight in magic, that you have managed to reform the Allianc
e—with everyone included minus the no longer present Tenia and my race—that you have kept Midestol’s forces at bay since you were eight. Also, you distrust and dislike contact of any kind and beings you don’t know, although you tolerate immortals faster than mortals. You’re loyal, hardworking, and damn near impossible to beat on the battlefield. You will risk yourself constantly to keep others safe, but you do not make the common mortal mistake of putting your life out there if the wiser thing to do is to stay out of the event taking place. He also said you are powerful. Powerful enough to be the world’s greatest threat, but honorable enough to not be. He told me to trust you,” the Kryhista finished as he slowly took another bite of grass. “Would you say his description is accurate?”
“No,” Z replied evenly.
“No?”
“He gives me far too much credit,” she whispered before closing her eyes again.
“Ah, he also mentioned you were modest,” Dyslentio added thoughtfully. She felt his muzzle before he lipped her hand lightly. When she opened her eyes, he read them keenly. “You feel you need to explain something to me,” the being mused softly. “Do so. I will not judge you.”
“It is not judgment I fear,” Z began slowly, “but your possible fear of me.”
She explained her talents or—as she saw them—her particularly disastrous add-ons in depth. To her surprise, the Kryhista didn’t seem overly concerned—though a couple of times he was clearly impressed—and he didn’t interrupt or challenge her words at all. He accepted them at face value. Only when she finally fell silent and closed her eyes as a spasm of weakness struck her did he move.
“Relax,” he whispered in a voice that could have come from the wind.
She sensed his intentions and forced herself to remain still as his power surrounded her and seemed to pour into all of her as it swelled. It was a sign of how close to death she was currently walking. With his healing powers, he would only have to do something so drastic if she was almost beyond—or possibly beyond—saving.