by Meagan Hurst
“You don’t have to join me if you don’t want to.”
“I’m hoping if I remain and eat with you, something more than an apple will make its way into your stomach. Besides, sometimes your seizures come in sets, and that one in your training court was the worst I have seen.”
“I love being watched.”
Nivaradros snorted at her sarcasm. “Hence the other reason I am not telling you everything; you already are irritated with me again.”
“Does it help if I tell you I no longer believe you are going to kill me?”
“Sadly enough, it does. I shouldn’t care one way or the other, but yes, it does help.”
“Well then, Nivaradros, I no longer believe you are trying to kill me—intentionally.”
“You are pushing your luck.”
“So are you.”
“Ah, well then I shall become the creepy being in the room by falling silent and eating this thing.”
Glaring at the apple in his hand, Nivaradros did finish it—core and all. He made no efforts to hide his dislike, but then again, Z rather liked the fact he was relaxed enough in her presence to be honest with his opinion. So many—even the immortals—were not, and she hated playing the games they preferred every minute of her waking moments.
They ate in silence until Nivaradros sent the food away without so much as a twitch. “So, you have questions. Ask, Z. Ask whatever you want. I will only warn you, I will not answer if I do not like the question.”
“Much like a Ranger.”
“Very much so. Even an old Dragon like myself can learn new tricks.”
“You will never be old.”
The Dragon’s smile was amused. “Not in the way your kind perceives it, but old is like the word normal—there truly is no set definition of it. It is all in the eyes, or mind, of the user.”
“You’re giving me a lecture on language?”
“Well the human tongue is a horribly constructed language. It reminds me of rodents. Come to think of it, a lot of human traits remind me of rodents. Both squeak when startled, flee when they can get away with it, carry diseases, breed faster than they can be killed off, and have voices with annoying pitches.”
“If this is your not-so-subtle way of asking me to stop talking, I am offended.”
“Your voice is musical, Z. Besides which, you are decidedly not what comes to mind when anyone hears the word ‘human.’”
She blinked in surprise. “Oh? What does?”
“When we find or coin a term that we all agree on, I will let you know.”
Laughing at the thought of the immortal races struggling to find a word they all agreed on to describe whatever it was they thought she was, if not human, Z shook her head and leaned forward in her chair to place her hands and arms on the table.
“Alright, fine. Don’t keep me in the loop,” she teased with a dark smile. “But all my other questions involve your lair.”
“I figured. Ask, Zimliya,” Nivaradros said formally. “I hope it hasn’t bored you yet?”
“If you think your lair is boring, you and I are on different worlds.”
“We were recently, or have you forgotten already? Mortality is creeping up on you.”
“I am so tempted to hit you.”
“I am so tempted to let you try,” the Dragon replied mockingly.
Chapter 13
Three weeks later, Z moved stiffly out of the bed that still seemed too damn big, too damn soft, and too damn weird. Her days had become a set routine designed to help her regain what strength she could. So far, she was less than impressed with the results. Probably because despite all of the work she had put in, she had only grown weaker. But Nivaradros seemed to greatly enjoy watching her practicing her skills, or now lack thereof, and he took even greater joy when she had a seizure and he got to harass her for the rest of the day while she recovered.
To her astonishment, Z discovered the Dragon seemed to genuinely enjoy her presence when she allowed him to join her. Nivaradros had traveled with her extensively before her disappearance for those eight months, but that had only been a short time when she factored in how long she had truly known him. Before that he hadn’t shown much interest in her until the bitter end of their travels, and then when she had returned before the event that forced them to destroy Tenia. Now he would occasionally leave to discover what was going on outside of his lair, but most of the time he would come just in time to watch her practice—wait to see if she ended up on the ground so he could help her—and then leave if she made it through the session without a problem.
Granted, the leaving part was a direct result of an eight hour argument—which Z was proud to say she had won, though no one else had been around to see it—after Nivaradros had driven her to the point of snapping. If she hadn’t won the argument, she was certain she would have had to deal with the Dragon every second of her long stretches of sleepless nights and long days, since her age old habit of skipping weeks of sleep at once was back.
She still wasn’t entirely sure how no blood had ended up being spilled, but since the end result was that Nivaradros had quit hovering, she wasn’t going to complain. He would nag her in passing about her eating habits, and if she had a seizure, he stayed to ensure she lived till the next day, but otherwise he pretty much left her alone.
The lack of other beings being around was surprisingly disconcerting. Z had never expected to miss others—especially not since her idea of too much social interaction was the definition of most people’s couple. She had gotten better as the years had gone by, but Z knew she was a better fighter alone—or with the Shades, since they didn’t count as being alive—or with just one other person. Now though, she felt the lack of life around her in a weight of silence she had never felt before, and she wondered how the Dragon didn’t go insane with it. Perhaps that was why he did occasionally venture out to attack something and burn it to the ground.
And she had gotten sidetracked. Sighing with annoyance, Z moved to find a cleaner set of clothing than that which had stayed on through the previous day’s work out and then her failed attempt to sleep. She felt old. Old, broken, and like she was losing the battle the Dragon was desperately trying to help her win. The thought reminded her of the blood-stained towel she had to figure out a new hiding place for, and Z decided to wait to change until she hid the evidence—she did not want the Dragon to know her coughing fits were now including blood.
If he saw or smelled the blood, Z knew he would start yelling, spit fire, and go into a rage, which would make it impossible to reason with him for the better part of two hours. Since she did need to reason with him before she headed off to practice until she got weaker, she didn’t want to give him the chance to lose his already short temper, and it had been short lately.
Zyrhis was constantly asking for aid from everyone he could—including the Dragon—as there was an all-out assault going on against his borders from Midestol’s forces. So far three of the mortal kingdoms had thrown aid at the Syallibion, but the immortal kingdoms had been unable to thus far as most of their leaders were in hiding, half of them at Istuion.
She also knew that the Rangers had sent a small detachment to assist the Syallibion as well, but Nivaradros’s information was lacking. All he could tell her was that the Rangers were dying in droves and constantly reinforcing their own unit with replacements. He would not, however, let her talk to anyone herself, and he refused to let her into battle. Since Z knew she wouldn’t last an hour before her death, she understood his refusal, but she hated it nonetheless. She was dying after all. She felt she had the right to go out how she wanted.
There was nothing more Nivaradros could do to stop this. Taking her back to Dyslentio was no longer an option either. Z was certain she had the week if she was lucky—the day if she was not, due to how she felt now. She also had no idea if Nivaradros had been in contact with Dyslentio at all, and she could only hope he had, since Dyslentio had implied he wanted to be kept apprised of her condition. The
Dragon had, on the other hand, been willing to convey messages back and forth from her to Crilyne. Of course, he had warned her that the Shade was never coming within five thousand feet of his lair first, but once the threat had been delivered, Nivaradros had calmed down and given in to the inevitable regarding communication with the Shade.
She had gotten distracted again. Cursing her growing weaknesses, Z tried to find a spot to hide the towel in, but she didn’t make it to her chosen destination before the Dragon entered the room. His eyes went to the blood on the towel in her hand and changed straight to neon without stopping at any other shade beforehand.
“Nivaradros, it’s not as bad as it looks—it’s just a little blood.”
“From where?”
With the ice in that last word, Z was surprised she could still breathe. “I … um … seem to be coughing up small amounts of blood on occasion?”
“That shouldn’t be a question.”
“It’s not. I just don’t feel like being yelled at this early in the day before I have gotten my ass kicked in training.”
The Dragon’s anger thawed in light of her obvious dismay. “Still growing weaker?” His concern, however, clearly grew.
“I’m down to level forty and still struggling. I haven’t been at that level since I was nine, and it’s basically fighting a small street gang armed with weapons they find on the ground. It’s embarrassing to be this bad. I do fine sometimes, but those ‘sometimes’ keep shrinking.” Z let the towel drop and moved to the chair that had been waiting patiently by the table for her to sit in. “Your blood was a good idea. It does repair the damage from seizures, but it cannot fix anything else. We managed a month, Nivaradros, but I am fairly certain I am being called in for cheating.”
“Crilyne is fairly certain as well,” Nivaradros said quietly after a long pause. “The problem is I’m not ready to surrender you yet.”
She’d noticed. “You have already taken me to Dyslentio, given me your blood, and spent weeks using magic to support me where you could. I also know when you leave you go somewhere to do research. Nivaradros, what other option do you have?”
The Dragon’s eyes blazed. “I’m going to find one.”
“There isn’t time.” As she said it, Z closed her eyes and felt the Dragon catch her before the floor did.
“Zimliya!” he called out as he cradled her close. “Damn it to hells! Why did you not tell me you were getting worse again?!” He didn’t wait for her answer. Instead he returned her to the bed she had managed to escape for a good hour and roared in anger. “Summon. The. Shade. Now!” So much for his earlier warning of Crilyne never coming here.
Uncertain she could, but willing to try, Z pulled magic blindly and did as the Dragon demanded; she pulled the Shade through the portal. She felt him touch this side of the portal and released the magic with relief before everything began to take too much effort again and she triggered another seizure.
“Nivaradros?!” Crilyne’s voice was astonished. “Where? Zimliya!” the Shade breathed.
“You have to turn her into a Shade—you have to do it now!”
Z heard the dark chuckle of Crilyne and desperately focused on his words.
“I can’t, Nivaradros. It took all eight of us to make the first attempt, and if I turned her into a Shade now—if I could even manage it alone, since her defenses are also heightened right now—she would be plagued by her seizures. It only heals physical damage, and only to a certain extent. This is something it could not repair, as it’s brought on by magic, and I have no idea what turning her into a Shade while she is paying the price for awakening us would do. My best guess, however, is it would likely just curse her with an unending existence with problems. Not to mention I still haven’t recovered from our Tenian battle, so even if I normally could change her, I can’t. Not right now, not for several months yet.”
“Shade, she is dying,” Nivaradros growled dangerously as she struggled to keep herself conscious and struggled to overcome the seizure that, while small, was killing her. It finally began to fade, but with her system already compromised, the damage was done.
“She has been dying for weeks, Nivaradros, you have just been torturing her to keep her here. I want to help—believe me when I say I wish I could do something, but I cannot. I spent the last two weeks in Yvsina looking for anything that would help, but there was nothing there, Nivaradros. Not even from Couririse’s experiments.”
Z flinched at the name, but she didn’t bother to try to open her eyes. Couririse was known throughout all the races as an immortal who had enjoyed capturing, torturing, dissecting, and experimenting on mortals and immortals both. Though his work had aided in the long run when it came to non-magical healing techniques, he had been a monster. Crilyne had ended his life the last time he had been awake, but Crilyne had gathered all of his books as well and studied them. Extensively. Z had gone through them to a point, but the images captured from life to page with magic, the drawings, and what had been done to achieve a certain result, had eventually caused her to give up rather than examine any more actions of a diabolical mage.
“If there was to be an answer, he would likely have discovered it,” Nivaradros barely conceded. “Stay with us, Z,” he added sharply as she began to cough.
When her fit passed—sort of—she spoke in a whisper. “Nivaradros, I will grant you whatever it is you want from me. I will grant it now. Just tell me. I can’t—”
“No. There has to be a way around this.”
“I am a human.”
“You are not dying because of mortality, you’re dying because of magic. I’m not having it!”
“Did you not hear me?” she whispered hoarsely. “I will give you what you want. Just ask, Nivaradros. I owe you that much. I promise I won’t hold it against you.”
When the Dragon didn’t respond, she forced her eyes to open. His eyes were closed, his head was bowed, and a muscle at his jaw was twitching. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” he told her in a tone that she couldn’t find a word for. Turning away, the Dragon snarled incoherently and smashed his hands against the only wall without anything upon it. Z felt the whole room shake from the force. “Shade?”
“Yes?” Crilyne said in a surprisingly neutral tone.
“Can you … ease it?”
“Her passage?”
“That.”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Nivaradros turned back, but his anger was greater than it had been before. “Zimliya?”
She opened her mouth to reply and began to cough in full this time. Nivaradros was at her side to help the minute he saw the flecks of blood emerging.
“Oh, how I love the metallic taste of blood,” she muttered darkly, before flinching as she experienced a sensation that implied something tore internally. Grateful once again for a complete lack of pain, she merely reacted to what she could only imagine was going on.
“Can you give me two hours?”
Two hours would feel like an eternity, but if that was all he was going to ask of her, Z was willing to try. “I can make the attempt,” she said cautiously. “But I cannot promise, Nivaradros. What do you intend to do now?” she wanted to know almost immediately after. “Nivaradros, what else can be done? I’m dying.”
Nivaradros hissed softly but turned away and ignored her words. “Protect her,” he asked of the Shade. “Protect her, and if you have to, help her, but do not unless she asks.”
“I promise, Warlord,” Crilyne replied gravely. It was the best the two of them had ever gotten along, and Z was shocked to see them continuing to manage it. Then again, they were finally united in a goal.
Z saw the slightest nod from the Dragon, but before he could leave the room she felt a light and familiar touch on her senses. The ancient being of power who she’d crossed paths with a few times in her life had arrived. “Nivaradros!” she half yelled. “He’s here!”
“Who’s here?!” the Dragon demanded as he turned to face her. His eyes flashed with possi
ble hope as she struggled to answer.
“He cannot enter without permission. You have to give him—” She fell prey to an all-out coughing fit before she could finish her sentence. Crilyne moved to her side to help, and when she looked up again, the Dragon was gone. “He needs permission,” she whispered to the Shade.
“I am sure the Dragon will give it to him,” the Shade said soothingly as she felt him summon magic to warm her slightly. “I am sorry about this,” he added as his black eyes held hers intently. “You shouldn’t have woken us all.” He touched her forehead, and she struggled to swallow air and closed her eyes as though it would make it easier. “He’s coming back,” the Shade added suddenly before vacating the spot at her side as Z heard her door open, and a new familiar voice entered the conversation—though it had pretty much been one sided.
“So, it finally comes to this.”
She managed to open her eyes. She managed even to meet and hold his crystal ones with her own. Speaking, however, she didn’t even try to do. He knelt beside her then—a mix of races in his features—and he gently placed a hand against her chest. She felt nothing seconds after contact, and she wasn’t aware of anything other than their voices.
You’re dying. Why must you always wait until the last minute when you are backed into a corner no one else would go into before you realize you are needed here still? Aloud he spoke to the Dragon at the same time, and his voices overlapped in an eerie manner. “Warlord, you must trust me here without pause. You must trust me utterly or she will die.”
“She is already dead,” Nivaradros said in a tone Z didn’t want to ever hear again.
“She is not. I have her—it is not the same.” I’d appreciate it if he’d didn’t try to kill me, Zimliya. I don’t suppose you have any advice? I’d like to avoid being forced to destroy him.
“You have her?” Z heard something she again couldn’t place in the Dragon’s tone. “She has no heartbeat. No breath…?”