by Meagan Hurst
“No, she does not,” the newcomer agreed. “But nevertheless, I have her. The lack of a beating heart or working lungs does not change that fact. Warlord, you must give me leave to do what I can here.” Z wondered over the being’s tone—it was far more respectful than she was used to hearing directed at the Dragon. Just what was Nivaradros to her helper?
There was a long pause. “I give you leave so long as you do not destroy anything here. It would do us no good if you managed to help her—which, as she is decidedly dead, I find hard to believe—and brought the place down around us.”
A laugh that sounded like a pleasant snowfall occurred. “That much I can promise you; your lair will remain untouched throughout all of this, and I promise you, Warlord, she is not dead. She just seems dead. She is also, if it would make you feel better, highly irritated at me right now.”
She was. Trapped in something that wasn’t even shadow and unable to move, breathe, feel, or respond, Z was decidedly unhappy. Especially if the Dragon, and probably Crilyne, thought she was dead.
What are you doing? she demanded harshly.
Paying you back for a debt. If you argue with me, I will tell the Dragon what you did, and then you will have to deal with him when this is over. Hush, Zimliya, hush and listen. Do you remember my offer?
It is rather hard to forget.
Your sarcasm is not helping either of us here. Lose it. The damage you have done to yourself, or permitted others to do to you, is extensive. Do you recall the chapter in Couririse’s works about the differences between immortals, mortals, and the original immortals?
Yes.
Good—Oh, don’t recoil from what he accomplished. He had many, many faults—
He did unspeakable acts!
And because of that, there is a small chance you will survive this. Now, remember what you read and use it. You have healing magic, although you vehemently deny its existence. Use it now, pull your power and fix yourself. Your power—your use of your power—already started this process. It is part of the reason you’ve survived despite some extensive injuries. Finish your transformation, Zimliya.
Absolutely not! I know what you intend.
Zimliya, you are being a fool! They-will-not-survive-without-you! Do you understand? It is either you or it is the end of this world—and probably others, when Midestol finds paths to them. You are the only person who could do this successfully, but at the same time it has to be done by you. I can only help by holding you here. I did not create your race; I cannot alter you in this manner.
You have no idea what you are asking of me.
I have a pretty good idea. The Dragon needs you alive. The Shade needs you alive. Do you think you have Kyi’rinn by mistake—that Shanii chose the wrong rider? This is your path, Zimliya. Take it. Take it now. I cannot hold you forever.
Then let go.
No.
Cursing him thoroughly, Z wished she could still swallow, or breathe. Instead she felt like magic alone and she hated the feel of it. Time felt as if it wasn’t passing, but she knew it was. She heard Nivaradros arguing with someone, and his anger and possible fear made her choice for her—she owed him. She owed him far more than she could ever repay. Wishing she could sigh, Z reached for the magic she had been cursed with from the beginning and began to use it to work her way through what she recalled from an ancient text she had loathed reading. This was going to take a while to accomplish—if she even could manage it.
She started with what she knew was the differences between the races currently living—which was useless, although she did run through the information for a time—and with the knowledge that the original immortals who had been born here had been bound, somehow, by their immortality. Some said it was through a name, some said it was through an object, others said they’d been bound by the world, and yet even others believed they had been bound by each other. Regardless, somehow, they had been alive. But the immortals nowadays had been freed from any restrictions their ancestors might have faced. They just were—like every other race. She recalled the internal design of mortals—and then of humans directly—and then mentally brought up what she assumed she would look like if she dissected herself.
Pulling up the mental images of the Alantaions, Syallibions, Ryelentions, and three other immortal races, Z discarded what was different and looked for something that was the same between all of them, be it magic or something more natural. When she found it, she pulled her magic inward again and pushed it out at a level she only hoped wouldn’t destroy those standing in the room with her, her body, or the room itself. In doing so, she also grabbed the Dragon’s blood and burned it from her veins. It would kill her, she knew, if she held on to it now. It had been killing her before—it had just also been helping.
Good. Now focus and calm yourself down. Nivaradros is inches from attempting to kill me, and I do not want to kill him.
What did you do?
I didn’t do anything—your body is glowing, and he thinks I have something to do with that.
You do.
I don’t. This is all you. But I cannot hold on to you for much longer. Do not rush this, but do not drag your feet either.
She said nothing to him and went further into her magic. He didn’t need to lecture her again, because she knew what was at stake and she knew—she had always known—that she didn’t really have a choice in the matter. With one part of her mind guiding her magic, and the other part of her flipping through the mental pages of research she had studied both in the Alantaion library—a method she preferred since the information contained there had not been obtained vilely—and what she had gained from the immortal monster, she continued to work.
There was a brief jolt, and she paused instantly. What?
Work faster. I am losing you.
Throwing caution to the winds, Z pulled herself deeper into her work—knowing she might never escape—and tried to make things go quicker. Exhaustion tugged at her now, and since it was the only thing she could feel, she clung to it in relief despite still working through it. Only when she felt herself losing hold completely did she begin to worry, but still there was nothing to do but move forward.
Done, she finally whispered as she felt her power swell briefly before sinking back deep within her.
Good. She felt a shift in the air around her, and then there was a sensation that was all too familiar—the feeling of nothing.
~*~
She inhaled sharply and tasted the air in a way that startled her back to the world faster than she probably wanted. But there was a taste to the air, and it was sharp, cold, and cutting. Dangerous. Magical. It was a heightened sense she was suddenly worried to have, and she doubted it would be the only one. She should have just let herself die. She’d never sought this.
“See? She is breathing again, Warlord. Her heartbeat is steady and strong. She is alive, but she will take a while to regain her bearings.”
“What. Did. You. Do?!” Nivaradros’s tone was accusing, furious, and threatening.
“I didn’t do anything but hold her. She did all the work. She had to do all of the work, or else she would have been trapped. I promise you, she is fine.”
She felt the Dragon at her side. A talon touched her face gently before something else—something she couldn’t identify—touched her forehead so lightly she shouldn’t have felt it, but she did. She struggled to wake, but there was a weight holding her down and keeping her from escaping this state too soon, and Z knew it was important enough to her that she didn’t fight it further.
“You burned out her Dragon blood.”
“I did not, but it would have killed her if it had stayed. She used a lot of magic, Nivaradros. This will take some time.”
Z heard Nivaradros’s muttered curses, but he didn’t leave her side. “Just who in the hells are you anyways?” the Dragon finally demanded. “And what do you want?”
“The first question is irrelevant,” was the amused and dark reply. “But the second I will answ
er; I want what you want, Warlord. I want her to survive. Giving up her life to awaken the Shades was needed at the time, but her being alive now is needed more. I simply changed things to remove her original bargain. She will pay nothing for awakening the Shades. What I offered instead was worth more in the end.”
“And what did you offer?”
“That is irrelevant.”
“It. Is. Not.”
“It is, it has nothing to do with her or you. All I will say, is I have the ability to change very few things in this world, but the price to awaken a Shade happens to be one of them. Believe me when I say I have not traded her life here for her death at a different time. She is entirely free from her agreement, Nivaradros. I promise you that.”
Z heard the Dragon beginning to speak again and opened her mouth first. “Nivaradros, let it lie,” she murmured softly before moving the hand closest to him out slightly. He took the hint and gently grabbed it. It confirmed her suspicions about his current form; it was a human hand with talons instead of fingernails, and scales instead of skin. He’d definitely been upset. “I am alright.”
“But for how long?” the Dragon asked bitterly. “How long until this wears off and you fall prey to something else that comes to claim your life due to your decision to awaken the Shades?”
It was clear he didn’t trust what he had been told. She opened her eyes slowly to meet his with a smile, but the look on his face caused her smile to freeze. He reached for her face instantly—hand changing entirely to human-seeming as he did so—and his fingers brushed over her cheek for a moment in amazement.
“By all winds and fires,” he whispered in awe, before a smile appeared and he moved back so he could stand and turn to face the being he seemed to hate possibly more than the Shade, which would be impressive. “This is permanent?”
“It is, Nivaradros. Nothing can reverse it. As with anything, though, there is still the possibility she could die.”
Nivaradros swatted the words away. “How long until she is used to this?”
“I’d give her about a week. She has a lot to adjust to. You, perhaps, might not believe there is that much of a difference, but there is, and because of the way this was gone about, it is nothing like what her grandfathers achieved. She will have to relearn who she is, and it may frighten her.”
Nivaradros’s stance had blocked her from view of the Shade. “Nivaradros, what is going on?” Crilyne demanded softly. “Something changed with her—she’s different, but I fear I am not following.”
Nivaradros didn’t answer with words. He simply stepped to the side so Z could finally see the Shade, and the Shade could see her. Crilyne’s eyes went wide in open astonishment and he moved forward at once.
“Impossible,” he whispered as he caught himself before he reached her side.
“For anyone else but her, yes,” the third being in the room agreed gravely. “I will leave now. I believe you three have a lot of things to consider.” He chose not to leave the conventional way—by the door—but instead vanished in the center of the room without so much as a hair’s strength of magic.
Nivaradros snorted. “Who was that?” he demanded of her peevishly. She was positive Nivaradros was currently adjusting his wards again to bar the being’s return to his lair now that she was alive again.
“If he didn’t give you a name, I am certainly not,” Z replied. She did wince when she spotted Crilyne still staring at her. “That bad?”
The Shade shook himself. “No, not bad at all but, after all this time, I thought for sure I would never see this come to pass. I need to tell the others—”
Nivaradros was there before he could move to block him. “You will tell them only that she is alive and she will come when she is able, if she can. Nothing more. I do not want them to start plotting to kill her if they decide they don’t like what you tell them.”
“They will know the minute they see her.”
“Yes, they will; however, they will have to plan from that point on—not before it happens.”
“You can’t honestly believe anyone would try to kill her over this.”
“You can’t honestly believe no one would.”
Z could tell Nivaradros won the minute he spoke because the Shade’s expression shifted. Bowing to the Dragon, the Shade glanced over at her and smiled. “I like it,” he told her truthfully. “And I cannot wait until you join us, Z. Until then, I leave you with Nivaradros. I will make sure no kingdom falls while we wait.”
He left the lair magically. Once the Shade had vanished, Nivaradros returned to her side. His eyes were calm, his stance was relaxed, and his smile was faintly amused. “He’s right you know, you do look good.” Since that wasn’t what the Shade had said—though it was what he had implied—Z raised a brow.
“How bad is it?” she demanded.
“It’s not. You are hardly changed in outward appearance. It is mostly just the eyes, and then a few other minor shifts in your features, and I happen to like them myself. Besides,” Nivaradros said with a teasing smile as he watched her closely, “I get to find out what color your eyes become when you are happy. Right now, I only know what they are when you are three seconds from panicking.”
She glared at him, and the Dragon began to laugh. “And now I know the color for when you are angry,” he teased before he gently touched her cheek. “You look fine, but then again you always looked fine.”
Snorting, Z didn’t move away from his hand, but she did slowly let her eyes run over the room again. Her vision was sharper, clearer, and adjustable. Exhaling uneasily, she sighed. “Do you mind?” she asked quietly.
“That you finally are immortal? No, I do not.” He’d told her he wanted her to shed her mortality, but Z hadn’t fully trusted those words. His words now, however, were honest, and that was more reassuring than she wanted it to be. “I have been waiting, scheming, attempting to back you into a corner, and searching for a way to make you immortal since you left. You could have told me you had the ability.”
“But not the desire,” she sighed.
“Yes, well, now it does not matter.” Nivaradros’s hand moved until it was under her chin. “You will make a fine immortal, and the most relieving thing is you didn’t have to become something else to become one. I would have hated it if you had to become an Alantaion or a Syallibion.” She smiled at the look of feigned horror on his face before his smile returned as well.
“That never even occurred to me,” she admitted. “Though I might be able to—”
“Don’t. You. Dare.”
Laughing at the alarm in the Dragon’s eyes, Z hit his shoulder as she shook her head. “I was joking,” she promised him. Stretching with care, she froze and lightly touched her chest for a moment. Pulling out the amulet Nivaradros had given her, she began to remove it. “I should probably give you this back.”
“Keep it,” Nivaradros told her softly as he watched her struggle with the chain and her hair. “Even if it no longer serves a purpose, it is yours.”
She managed a smile, and then tensed as a thought occurred to her. Without even thinking she called the amulet she rarely brought into daylight out of its hiding place. Part of her expected it wouldn’t respond—her immortality blocking it from being hers any longer—but she felt its presence a second before it appeared, and the Dragon beat her to picking it up.
“They would never cast you out for something like this,” he pointed out softly as he turned the amulet over. Since it was as friendly as Kyi’rinn generally was, she was astonished the Dragon could hold it without receiving an injury. “Not that it matters if they did, as they are no longer your only home, Zimliya; they are certainly not the only people who care for you,” he added as he placed the metal back against her skin. His eyes held hers briefly before that dangerous smile she knew so well reappeared.
“Are you finally going to tell me what you want?”
“Not a chance.” A smug look appeared on Nivaradros’s features and he stood slowly before h
eading towards her doors and leaning against a wall there. “Making you wait is much more enjoyable, and I still think you would hate me if I told you.”
Chapter 14
It took getting up and standing to learn just what their mysterious visitor—well, not mysterious to her since she knew him—had meant by needing time to adjust. Z hissed slightly as she got to her feet, and Nivaradros’s eyes flickered to a brighter color from his position by the doors. He started to come towards her until she shook her head and took a cautious step forward.
Her balance was different. The way her body positioned its weight on her feet had completely changed, and Z moved slowly while her mind attempted to pinpoint and note those differences. Something on her face must have given her away, because the Dragon kept his distance, choosing to sit over on the chair by the table full of food while she walked her room.
When she finally was able to admit to herself that her step was truly entirely different, Z exhaled slowly and winced when she inhaled again. The air still had a taste to it. A taste of magic, stone, and other things she couldn’t yet identify. She wondered if all immortals breathed the same way she did now, or if it was only the Dragons and her. She had no doubt that Nivaradros would taste the same things upon the air if she asked him—he probably would even know every single taste. She glanced at him, and found he was still watching her, but he hadn’t yet so much as twitched from the position he had taken to give her much needed space.
“This is going to take some time to adjust to,” she told him finally.
“Your movement is much improved—which is saying something, because you were always damn close to an immortal.”
“But that took work, years of work, and it was different from this. This is entirely natural, and I don’t like it.”
Now the Dragon moved. He approached her with care and offered her his hands. She accepted them both, and they just stood there in the clear spot of her room for quite the length of time before she blinked and pulled her hands free.