The Price of Survival

by Meagan Hurst

  Another hesitation. A longer one. Shevieck glanced around her room for a moment and then did something that he had never done before; he warded the room. Damn. Nivaradros really had managed to further Shevieck’s education. She owed the Dragon a thank you at some point.

  “He gave me leave to call him when you asked,” the Mithani said in a hushed tone. “And he wished for me to give you this.”

  ‘This’ turned out to be an amulet. The gem at the center was not a gem at all, but a magically frozen, augmented, and sculpted drop of blood. Given the gem-like appearance was black she had little doubt where the blood had come from. The metal surrounding the ‘gem’ wasn’t gold though; neither was the chain. Instead the Dragon had apparently overheard or listened to one of her rants on gold being used for jewelry. If she was going to be forced to wear anything, the damn thing better be silver. Accepting the necklace from Shevieck, she found the chain to also be silver—pure silver—and delicate in appearance despite being impossible to break. Her neck would be broken before the chain.

  Knowing Nivaradros rarely did anything without a solid reason, Z unfastened the clasp on the chain and placed the amulet around her neck. The amulet landed underneath her shirt and it pulsed when it settled against her skin—over her heart. Having had stranger things happen, Z ignored the living feel of the creation until she realized she felt stronger. The ill-effects of Nivaradros’s immortal blood seemed to all but vanish. She wondered how and why he had thought to make the amulet, and a small suspicion began to work its way into her mind.

  “There’s magic to that,” Shevieck breathed as he shied away from her. “I can feel it from here.” Since the Mithani rarely paid attention to his general surroundings it should have pleased her to hear he noticed something not obvious. But she was worried about Nivaradros now—deeply worried—and the Mithani’s words only added to that concern.

  “Summon him,” she whispered. “If you truly can, Shevieck—summon him.”

  The Alantaion nodded gravely and closed his eyes for a moment. It was a decidedly long moment. Thirty minutes later he blinked and opened his eyes for good. “He’s coming,” he told her with a small smile. “He seemed relieved to know you were still alive.”

  Well she was certainly relieved to know he was. Nodding absently, she paced the room for a spell before sitting back down in the chair the Mithane had helped her to.

  “What’s been going on since the Dragon and I left?” she wanted to know.

  Shevieck grimaced, but he did begin to explain. As he normally didn’t have anything to say, Z marveled over just how different the Mithani was from the Alantaion she had left eight months ago. Nivaradros had definitely had a massive effect on Shevieck’s demeanor. She was therefore insulted the Mithane was being so cold in regard to Nivaradros seeing how the Dragon had kept his son safe for eight months and had a hand in the young Alantaion’s education on top of assisting her. Now was not the time to hold the Dragon’s darker past against him.

  “The Islierre and my father bicker constantly, so Zyrhis has banned any meetings that involve the two of them being in the same room. If he requires an Alantaion perspective with the Islierre present, he summons me. The Ryelention has been surprisingly polite when I’ve spoken with him though, so I am tentatively willing to believe there is just something between him and my father—” his voice faltered when she glared at him. “And I take it that is something I am supposed to already know?”

  “Shevieck, it was a major event between your two kingdoms, so, yes,” Z sighed as she rubbed her temples. Evidently Shevieck hadn’t changed completely.

  Shaking her head as she sighed again, she began to explain the events that had led up to a war between the Ryelentions and the Alantaions that had left a scar—or a grudge—neither of the immortal rulers had yet been able to overcome. As it was a two millennium year old whatever someone decided to term it, Z didn’t see it ending anytime soon. Still it took the better part of five hours to explain and by the time her story was drawing to a close the sun was on its way out for the day.

  “Huh,” Shevieck remarked as she finally was able to fall silent. His expression was thoughtful and she could tell he would be preoccupied on the history she had just explained to him for some time. As that meant he had listened she tried to not be irritated when he seemed to forget her existence.

  “I take it you used big words at him again?” a blessedly familiar voice wanted to know slyly from behind her. Since she had been preoccupied watching the utterly still Alantaion, Z hadn’t even thought to check to see if anyone else had entered the room. Standing, she whirled around and found herself facing the Dragon. She couldn’t help the soft cry of relief that escaped before she truly noticed his condition.

  He looked ill. Dark circles underscored his dull green eyes. She had seen him in bad shape before, but this time he didn’t appear to be injured and she didn’t know what to make of it. She’d never seen an immortal in a similar condition and she would have preferred to remain ignorant to this possibility. Nivaradros had also lost weight—a lot of weight. She was momentarily grateful he was in his lesser form. The sight of him as a Dragon might have been too much to take with the way some of his bones currently stuck out. His lips curved up into a sardonic smile.

  “Before you mention how bad I look, have you seen a mirror lately?” he drawled in a dry tone. He moved before she could respond and his embrace did much to reassure her about his strength; his hold was decidedly crushing. Hugging him back without pause, she finally pulled away and let him examine her closely. “You’re alive,” he whispered. “I thought—You were not doing well.”

  She managed a smile. “Look who’s talking,” she teased as his hand reached out to touch the gift he had created.

  “Does it help?” he wanted to know as he regarded it with a curious intensity.

  She nodded slowly, and then forced her smile to grow stronger. “Much,” she assured him. “Though I don’t know where in the world you got the idea—”

  “From the Shade. He suggested the—” the Dragon glanced over at Shevieck’s blank expression, shuddered, and then brought his gaze back to hers. “—blood transfusion first. He thought an immortal’s blood could possibly offset the deal you struck with magic to awaken him and his kin. I wasn’t fond of the idea—especially since it came from him—but when it was suggested to me again, by a different party, and it was clear we were losing you, I decided the Shade’s idea might have some merit.”

  Grimacing as he removed his hand from the amulet, he sighed. “Your seizures stopped, but so did everything else. Dyslentio managed to revive you, but by that time I was reacting to your blood as much as you were reacting to mine, so their help was limited. Your mortality—even a drop of it—is clearly dangerous for an immortal to come into contact with. At least for Dragons. I brought you here because it was the only kingdom I knew for sure was not involved in a power struggle, and then I went to find the Shade.”

  With how often Nivaradros and Crilyne got along—which would be never—Z was surprised the Dragon was still alive. “He offered his aid?” she asked in astonishment.

  “That he did,” the Dragon replied glumly. “He was rather forthcoming without me even pressing him for information, and he managed to aid me directly to a point. Because you are the weaker of the equation he believed you needed a stabilizer—which is what the amulet was created to be. It should keep the small amount of immortal magic and blood from doing anything but aiding you.”

  “And on your end?”

  Nivaradros snorted. “I was simply ill for a time. It wasn’t like we swapped blood—I simply couldn’t avoid not coming into contact with your blood, and some of it must have entered my bloodstream. But it only made me ill. I am the greater of this equation, Z, believe me when I say I am fine.”

  She didn’t believe him for a minute, but she also knew better than to argue. “Well it seems to have worked. What else did Crilyne say about this?”

  “Only that he isn�
��t sure what all the effects of this could be,” Nivaradros replied darkly. “But he is hopeful it will keep you from paying your debt for a little longer. He claims most of the Alliance is in disarray. Zyrhis and perhaps two others retain their kingdoms, but everyone has been overthrown. He is not including the Tezéracians, so that would make it possibly four kingdoms have been untouched. Also, this is excluding the Dragons; they don’t have a ruling party per se, so I don’t think the Shade considered them either.”

  They. Them. It was the first time Z had ever heard Nivaradros not include himself with his race in such a powerful way. Surprised, worried, and curious she decided to hold her peace, but she was determined to find out where the Dragon included himself now if it wasn’t within his own race.

  “Crilyne left here, then?” she wanted to know. She recalled vaguely that he had also been here when she had brought the Islierre and the Mithane through the shadows, or had he only been in Arriandie?

  “Z?” Nivaradros sighed, letting her know she’d been distracted for longer than she thought.

  “Sorry,” she replied quickly as she shook herself. “What did I miss?”

  “Nothing overly important apparently,” was the amused response. “But are you certain you are alright?”

  “Weaker,” she admitted. “I won’t know how much weaker until I hit the practice courts, and there is something else I can sense, but I cannot truly touch it.” A horrifying thought occurred to her. “Shevieck noticed something about me was different. How many people are going to be able to tell?”

  “About our experiment? Only other Dragons. At this point I intend to make sure no one gets to find out what we were up to. Everyone else will just notice a slight shift to your feel, but they won’t be able to tell what it is from.”

  The relief she felt shouldn’t have been so large, but Z knew the fact that she had shared anything with another immortal would cause others to have a large fit of jealousy or disgust. She allowed the Dragon to touch her forehead without warning, and she closed her eyes as she felt the small amount of magic he pulled to check her condition.

  Whatever he had planned though would have to wait. Z had about a minute’s warning before the doors opened again and the Mithane walked briskly through them—or what she considered to be brisk for an immortal whose race was the definition of graceful. His steps were longer than usual. His eyes were deep into their black territory and when they fell upon Nivaradros they got even colder.

  “Step away from her,” the Mithane said in a tone that sounded polite and unconcerned but managed to convey the utmost of threats at the same time.

  “No.”

  Z cringed at the Dragon’s flat, challenging tone, but she managed to keep her peace. Instead she watched as Shevieck snapped out of his thoughts and focused on what was going on before him. He didn’t hesitate, but moved to stand behind her—placing his palms on her shoulders lightly as he did so. She managed to keep from reacting to his touch, but it took work, and in the end, she only managed it because Nivaradros positioned himself to her right at the same time and caught the hand that reached for a weapon.

  The Mithane’s eyes narrowed. “Warlord, I am not in the mood for games,” he snapped. “Step away from Zimliya now.” He completely ignored his son—which was fair given his son was currently making a stand against him and seemingly ignoring him in return.

  “I am not playing a game,” Nivaradros spat in return. A small amount of fire escaped on the last word. “I placed Z in your care while I was away; I am no longer indisposed. I will take care of her from here on out.”

  “Oh?” The sarcasm in that one word was thick enough to blunt a magically augmented sword. “And how do you plan to do that?”

  Nivaradros’s smile was vicious. “By not counting her as dead when there is even the smallest chance of her survival.”

  It was a verbal slap, but the Mithane’s eyes couldn’t get any blacker—or colder—although Z felt the temperature in the room take a swift and bitter dive down. “It seems to me I wasn’t the one who constantly threatened to eat her,” was the Alantaion’s icy and cutting reply. “And how many times have you wounded her personally, Warlord?”

  Z winced as Nivaradros’s grip possibly crushed finger bones. She wasn’t positive, but she had a feeling her right hand had more broken bones now than whole ones. Opening her mouth to intervene—angry now at the way this conversation was going—she was shocked when Nivaradros spoke to her alone while he also threw a cutting rebuttal at the Mithane.

  I got this. Go. Go practice with the tree-beings. You need to see where your weaknesses lie, and I can sense your anger. Rather than have you attack someone and cause you anguish later, I think it would be far wiser if you left the room. When this is over, I will come find you.

  Z hesitated briefly—not trusting both immortals to still be standing if she left them to argue alone—but the desire to see if she could fight without falling prey to a seizure was tempting. As the two sent another sharp round of words at each other, Z made up her mind. Slipping away from Nivaradros’s side, she noticed the Dragon made almost a challenging move towards the Mithane—giving her a much needed chance to get out without the Alantaion having time to stop her.

  Walking the halls with a small amount of relief at the feel of being alone at long last, Z took in the designs the walls sported; all grown from and out of the tree without harming it, and all done by magic. Images of former rulers and other immortals of note lined this particular hall, and Z realized her room—or the Dragon’s for all she knew—had been placed in the center of the palace. This hall was known as The Hall of History, and it was a silent reminder to its people that they had done everything from war to finding a cure for the only plague that immortals had been susceptible to—a plague Midestol had created five millenniums prior.

  It was less impressive than Arriandie’s castle’s living walls, but it was still something humans couldn’t master. For even if they could have created something similar, their imperfect memories would render such a display useless. Walking the hall awoke the years of study she had undergone, and Z recalled more than the Syallibions would ever know she knew about them. Pausing for a moment before the statue of a female Syallibion, Z reached out and lightly brushed visible small being she carried—the small being who would one day rule the kingdom and give her Zyrhis. It was the former Syallibion ruler before Midestol had twisted him. Before Zyrhis had been forced to slay his own father for the acts the immortal had been driven to do.

  “Is that going to haunt you for the rest of your human lifespan?” a familiar and soft voice asked from behind her.

  Z blinked in surprise and then turned slowly with a small smile to face the Syallibion ruler who had easily snuck up behind her for the first time since she’d known him. He truly was coming into his own. “It may,” she admitted as he grimaced.

  “You know better than to admit things like that to immortals,” he chided as he moved to her side. Reaching out with care, he gently brushed a strand of hair from her cheek to behind her right ear and then moved to embrace her. She tensed briefly, but slowly accepted his embrace. “The Mithane told me Nivaradros had taken you away to die,” he murmured in a low enough tone that she could barely hear him even though his breath touched her cheek. “You should have told me.” Releasing her with ease, he regarded her with worried nutmeg eyes. “You look well enough,” he admitted finally, but he picked up her left hand and held it. “But something’s changed. The Dragon wouldn’t say what happened, but he asked me to keep the Mithane from upsetting you too much. Rumor has it he returned?”

  “He’s verbally abusing the Mithane—who is verbally abusing him,” she sighed as she tugged at her hand. She was shocked enough by the embrace that this minute contact didn’t bother her, but she was getting rather tired of all the constant touches everyone seemed to insist on trying her with.

  “Ah,” the young immortal ruler replied with a dark smile as the harsh lines of his skin shifted slightly.
“I thought he despised running interference.”

  “So did I,” Z replied grimly. “He’s changing every time I see him.” She closed her eyes, pulled her hand free with a sharp jerk. Rubbing her arms for reasons she couldn’t grasp, she forced herself to open her eyes again. “What does he want from me, Zyrhis?”

  The immortal froze. Statues had more movement than he did. “I am not about to get between you and the Dragon,” he said at length.

  “But you know.”

  “I asked. The Dragon was surprisingly forthcoming, but then again, he had nothing to lose from telling me. In saying that, do recall immortals don’t reveal all of their plans freely so there is much he also didn’t tell me.”

  That was less of a comfort than it should have been. “Zyrhis—” she began softly, but he took her by surprise again.

  She barely managed to step back, but it made no difference. He caught her still when she hit the carvings and the wall behind her. Worse, he kissed her. She had no idea how, but she didn’t care. Jerking away with a hiss, Z slid to the side and pulled a small dagger from a hiding spot. She would not attack him. She had that level of control now, and she also knew he would not be the only person to do this to her. He was simply the first. Slow, carefully, she regained complete control over her actions, and once that was achieved, she met Zyrhis’s eyes accusingly.

  “Don’t you ever, ever do that to me again,” she threatened in a low tone. She finally noticed he was standing on the vines of a plant he’d summoned to make him tall enough to kiss her.

  To her amazement, her reaction caused him no anger. He smiled, and he bowed in agreement. “Of course,” he replied evenly. “I just thought I would see how much you’ve changed.”

  “By kissing me?” she demanded incredulously. “I have problems, do recall, and you’re not Shalion. He is the only one I’d even expect such stupidity from! He’s the only one of you who can get away with it!”