The Price of Survival

by Meagan Hurst

  Laughing softly, Z shook her head and carefully bound up the burned forearm before her. “I’ve been a bit busy, and I was told it would be far wiser if I stayed away from the fighting until they were more certain I would not be cut down on sight by an ally.”

  “Our glorious leaders have grown paranoid. Well, if anyone is foolish enough to threaten you, tell me, or any of us. We’ll set them straight,” the Alantaion told her firmly. “Won’t we?” she added as she raised her voice.

  There was a chorus of agreement that rang out around them, and Z smiled slightly as she shook her head. “I will,” she assured them all as she received a couple black looks over her silence. “If I don’t set them straight myself.”

  Good natured jeers were her reply, and Z retorted sharply to them as Shanii trotted over smugly. “Yes, yes,” she told him hastily. “You did an incredible job. Did you go tell the whole damn army I was back?”

  Shanii snorted and shook his head and neck. Reaching out with his muzzle, he nuzzled her shoulder before trotting off contently. Seeing everyone’s eyes upon her with the same silent question, Z sighed, wishing Shanii would communicate with everyone instead of just her. “He only told the Shade,” she explained. “But apparently I can expect him to arrive within the next five to ten minutes.”

  “He better bring food,” someone grumbled.

  ~*~

  Crilyne did arrive with food. He drove a team of horses with a wagon designed to deliver supplies to fighting forces with the ease of someone who had been doing it for a while. Due to the fact most normal horses hated him for his not-really-living form, Z could only assume the Shade had been introduced to the team slowly, and that this was the only wagon he had permission to drive. Reining in the team when he realized there were still too many bodies between him and the Alantaions she’d been adopted by for the day, the Shade leapt from the driver’s seat gracefully and approached them with a careless air.

  She knew better; he was furious to see her. “Hello, Crilyne,” she called coolly as she raised her chin in defiance. “Nice to see you too.”

  His face could not have gotten much dourer. Glaring at her as soon as there were only five feet between them, he paused and surveyed the remains of the fight she had joined.

  “I believe your orders regarding this battle were quite clear,” he began coldly.

  “Yes, they were, but you forgot rule number one,” she told him cheerfully.

  His frown deepened. “Which rule one?”

  “The one where you’re not allowed to tell me what to do.”

  Crilyne exhaled loudly. “Zimliya, you have no idea what has gone on here or what you are getting yourself involved in—”

  She raised a hand and cut off the rest of his sentence sharply. “Then it is time to debrief me,” she snapped. “And I do know a few things, Crilyne. Or were you idiotic enough to believe Midestol wouldn’t inform me about Nivaradros?”

  She fell silent as Crilyne flinched—visibly. Closing his eyes, the Shade appeared to make the attempt to gather himself. “What were you told?”

  “That Nivaradros took arrows while trying to rescue Shevieck.”

  “He managed; Shevieck is fine. What else?”

  “He crashed.” Here it became harder for her to speak; that damn lump returned to her throat.

  Crilyne’s features grew uneasy. “Anything else?”

  “He claimed the Dragon is dead,” she told him curtly. Stung that Crilyne was forcing her to tell him what she had been told, instead of telling her what he knew—what had happened—she struggled to keep herself under control emotionally. It was hard. Harder by far than she wanted it to be.

  The Shade’s expression smoothed out to give nothing away. “That has not been proven,” he told her quietly. “There was a lot of blood upon the forest floor, but we have not located the Dragon’s body—in either form.”

  She cut him off with a sharp gesture. “I went to his lair,” she told Crilyne angrily. “Most of his defenses had fallen; they don’t fall when their creator has been injured.”

  Wordlessly the Shade met and held her gaze. “I see,” he said softly at long last. “Do you hold the Dragon’s lands then as your own?”

  “Yes,” she hissed angrily. “Will you advise me to do otherwise?”

  “No, I will not.” Crilyne’s expression was now the definition of pinched. “Z—” he began softly.

  She cut him off once more with a sharp gesture. “We have wounded and all of us are hungry. We can speak about the rest of it later.”

  Turning, she walked away from him. Had she tried to stay—had he tried to say more—Z knew she would have snapped. It was hard enough to deal with Nivaradros’s demise on her own; she had a feeling it would be a thousand times worse when she was surrounded by others. She therefore left it up to others to help the Shade unload food from the wagon. She turned to continue to help those who were injured, finding thread and stitching injuries she had previously only bound.

  She heard the conversations between the Shade and the Alantaions; he wanted to know how she was. From what she overheard they said nothing other than she seemed fine, they liked her immortality, and she was still damn scary with any kind of weapon. Smiling over the last bit, she noticed Niramit was watching her and winced.

  “Yes?” she asked him softly as he approached and their eyes met.

  “There was a rumor going through the ranks while you were gone,” he began in a hesitant manner.

  “I am sure there were more than one,” she snorted.

  His smile was faint, but she would take whatever she could get since she had a feeling his probing would not be to her liking.

  “It was being said Nivaradros had claimed you.”

  Closing her eyes to hide what she knew would be a shift in eye color, she struggled to control her emotions. “That was true,” she admitted after a pause, grateful long silences were perfectly acceptable to immortals.

  “It was also said that you claimed him in return.”

  Damn the gossip chains of an army. “That was true as well,” she told him shortly.

  There was a soft pause, a bitter silence, and then a painful reply. “I am sorry then, Z, for your loss.”

  She tried to dismiss his concern with her words. It was just as dangerous for her to show her pain with her allies as it had been to display it to Midestol. “It is the price of war, Niramit, we all end up paying it at some point.” Turning away from him before he could reply, she grabbed a small plate of food and moved to sit off on her own.

  Chapter 22

  She headed into the main camp with an escort of Alantaions. Niramit’s remaining warriors were well aware of her changes, and they were fine with them; she was still the person she had always been to them. She therefore found that they had decided everyone else was to be fine with them as well, and so she rode Shanii into the main camp at the center of the Niramit’s command. Crilyne, she suspected, also had a hand in this, but she forced herself not to dwell on it. On the off chance she ended up bunking with the Shade, she didn’t want to be tempted to kill him.

  Niramit fielded questions about her and the Dragon so she didn’t have to deal with them directly. She overheard them, of course, but with him taking the reins of the conversation or abruptly ending the question with a look, she wasn’t forced to answer. It was a small relief. Nivaradros’s death had wounded her, and she didn’t know how to heal those wounds.

  Closing her eyes after yet another set of whispers started when those without enough to do noticed her eyes, Z struggled not to listen to the words, but it was impossible to block all of them. Immortal was one of the most common, but it was third to the word claimed, which was second to Nivaradros. The last one kept hitting her hard, and she refused to let that pain show. When a small group of Ryelentions blocked their passage as she failed to acknowledge their words, Z opened her eyes slowly to meet the immortal who stepped forward to speak.

  He didn’t get a chance. “I believe Zimliya has been t
hrough quite enough today,” a cold and commanding female voice called out. Z glanced over her left shoulder in surprise as Veilantras strolled forward with ease—though her eyes were burning. The silver gave the impression of liquid metal, but they were hotter than that metal could achieve. “Honestly, leave the poor girl alone.” She raised a brow as Z’s unofficial guard moved to block her passage. “I’m not going to harm her. I’ve known about her immortality for some time.”

  Niramit’s gaze flashed to hers. Nodding once, Z slid off Shanii’s back and moved carefully through the Alantaions. “She has known for some time,” she assured them, and she wanted to talk to the ancient Dragon alone anyways. “Is there a place we can discuss things in private?” she asked Veilantras as she reached the female Dragon’s side. Since the Dragon was in lesser form, this was easy enough to accomplish—though it was apparent the Alantaions were unhappy at the concept of handing her protection over to the Dragon.

  “Yes,” Veilantras told her in a lowered tone. “Nivaradros’s tent.”

  She flinched. Closing her eyes again, she managed to swallow part of the sudden lump in her throat. “Lead on,” she said quietly. She didn’t notice she had basically given Veilantras an order, but it didn’t matter with this Dragon.

  Z barely took note of those she passed and the layout of the encampment. Funny how recently she had wanted to be here; funny how now she would have given anything to be anywhere else. Veilantras led her to something that made Crilyne’s tent look like a beggar’s home; this damn thing was huge. It was also a deep green in color, and Z felt a sudden urge to burn it to the ground. She couldn’t handle this. Slipping in through the flap after Veilantras, Z managed to find and lower herself into a chair before her legs gave out.

  “Zimliya?!” Alarm ran out from Veilantras’s voice, and Z forced herself together as a result.

  “I’m just tired,” she told the Dragon with a small smile, but the smile faded as she again glanced around the tent. This time, however, she noticed they weren’t alone; Crilyne was standing off to one side. “What are you doing here?” she demanded of him. Her tone was hostile, but she didn’t want to lose her anger; what would be left was far, far worse.

  “We need to talk,” the Shade told her softly.

  “The hells we do! I am not leaving, Crilyne. I am needed here!” she snarled at him. Veilantras and the interior of the tent became mere backdrops.

  “Yes,” he agreed softly as he finally held her eyes with his. “You are. But are you okay with that? Because you will do us more harm than good if you are in any way distracted.”

  She stared at him in astonishment, pretending the words made no sense; she wished they didn’t. Instead she glanced at Nivaradros’s mentor. “Did you go to the site?” she wanted to know.

  Veilantras’s eyes were still at their brightest. “Yes, I did,” she admitted.

  “The blood on the ground, was some of it heart blood?”

  Veilantras hesitated. “Zimliya—” she began.

  “Was some of it heart blood?” Z snapped.

  “The majority of it, yes,” Veilantras replied after another long pause.

  Z closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. “In your opinion, could he have survived?” She hated to ask, and the disintegration of his defensive and claiming magic on his lair was a giveaway, but she still had to say the words on the off chance the Dragon could still be alive. If he was, she intended to find him.

  Veilantras was noticeably silent. Z glanced at her, and the female Dragon glanced at the Shade. Crilyne’s expression was about as inviting as an angry badger’s and Veilantras winced. “Zimliya—” she began again, softly.

  “Just tell me,” was her forced and controlled reply.

  “No,” Veilantras finally replied in a very, very soft tone. “No, Z, he could not have, I’m so sorry.” The female Dragon looked again to Crilyne for something, and then shoved some of her hair out of her eyes—despite the fact it wasn’t anywhere close to them. “Not with his injuries. He barely managed to get the Mithani to safety, and Shevieck’s report indicated Nivaradros knew he wasn’t going to survive.”

  Z closed her eyes again. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Now, what’s going on here?”

  “Z—” Crilyne started to say.

  “Crilyne, when I want your opinion or criticism I will ask for it. Until then, just shut the hells up.”

  “No, I will not,” he countered as an edge creeped into his voice. “Zimliya—”

  “I did fine out there, Crilyne. Niramit’s force has already been commandeered into my personal guards—which I know you were behind—and they don’t mind what I am. The Ryelentions likewise seem to know, and they don’t seem to mind either. I want to know how and why there are Ryelentions and Alantaions fighting when both kingdoms are not in the hands of their rulers—and I want to know how many of each there are. I’m here now, Crilyne. I intend to fight. You need my help.”

  “We do,” he agreed softly as the edge that hadn’t escaped her tone vanished from his. “And, yes, you did fine out there. You did more than fine. I know you quite well, Zimliya. You will continue to do, in your words, fine. You will rise or exit this tent each morning and head out onto the field to protect, defend, and save more lives in a handful of hours than we have managed to save in our months of fighting. You will attend every meeting asked of you and will present battle plans you drew up during your ‘down time’ to the others in the meeting.

  “You will do all of this, and you will do it well. No one will know that anything is wrong. No one,” he added quietly, “but me. And Veilantras. Possibly the Mithane and the Islierre since they saw you interact with Nivaradros. The Thinyen dismissed the Dragon’s claim, so it means nothing to him, or rather it merely means the claim no longer has a hold. Nivaradros claimed you in front of him; you didn’t claim the Dragon.

  “But you are far from alright. Zimliya, you’re hurting. You can easily work through this because you’ve trained yourself to push through anything, but it’s not healthy—especially not for a human who has been through as much as you have. Do not try to brush this off. I can feel your pain from over here. You are not okay. Admit it—admit it to us both. You are grieving for your loss. Nivaradros meant more to you than you even admitted to yourself.”

  He held up his hand before she could interrupt. “He cared for you,” the Shade told her seriously. “Far more than I think you were willing to see or accept, but no less than you cared for him. I would have kept you away from him had I known this is how it would have ended. Accept your loss as a loss of the heart, and not just a loss of battle. This will destroy you if you do not.” He glanced at Veilantras and the female inclined her head. “And Nivaradros was targeted directly. The arrows we found were magicked enough that they should have instantly killed him, and on top of that, they were poisoned with a foreign substance deadly enough that the poison alone should have killed him. Do not think your presence would have changed things—it would have only been your loss we would have had to accept.”

  “And your loss would have been catastrophic,” Veilantras inserted. Her eyes were now a dull grey. “He was a difficult, frustrating, and challenging student, but I still cared for him, Zimliya. I cannot imagine how this is affecting you.”

  Well, as she was ready to strangle someone, Z had a feeling they were being a bit too cautious around her. “Honestly you two, I am fine,” she said a bit sharply with a frown. “Now can we please discuss relevant subjects?”

  Crilyne glanced at her with the oddest light in his black eyes. “As you wish,” he said with a heavy sigh. His gaze strayed briefly, however, to Veilantras. It was a knowing look, and it made her tempted to strangle him despite the fact she knew it wouldn’t do him any harm. “The Alantaions number about six thousand strong. They showed up about a week or two ago. Not even the Mithane knows precisely who the rallying force behind them was—we suspect one of his Saers. The rest of the kingdom lies in the hands of the usurper—”

 
“Do they have a name?”

  “If you would let me finish, yes,” Crilyne growled. “The usurper is Gaelitseli—I am sure you know of him since you seem to know every damn immortal you have met, seen, or heard about once.”

  Z’s eyes narrowed and her frown deepened. “I don’t. I do not know every Alantaion in the world, after all,” she said softly. “But I am willing to believe Gaelitseli is the Alantaion responsible for nearly drowning me in my bath over a year ago, and behind the attempt to blow me and Nivaradros up earlier this year.” She managed not to flinch or close her eyes when she spoke the Dragon’s name, but it was still painful.

  Crilyne’s silence was a tense one, and he let it linger for several minutes. “Yes, well, until you see him there is little to go on—or proof to be found. I do,” he added, “agree with your assumption.”

  Rolling her eyes, Z sighed and considered what little she now knew about the Alantaions. “That’s almost a third of the army backing their true Mithane. It is not quite the number I would have hoped for, but it isn’t deplorable either.” Biting a lower lip in thought, she shrugged. “The Ryelentions?”

  “They seem to be here not for the Islierre, but for their Islierri—who has yet to make an appearance. Apparently, he has been waiting on you.” Crilyne snorted softly to show his irritation over Shalion’s continued absence. “But they still fight for and under the Islierre’s command. They’re the larger of the forces that aren’t native to these lands: ten thousand strong. The Ryelention behind the internal attacks is a female who goes by the name of—”

  “Jazeria,” Z finished before the Shade could. At his raised brow, she rolled her eyes. “She’s from an old family line that has constantly contested the Islierre’s hold on his kingdom. Her father, grandfather, great-grandfather, and great-great-grandfather all likewise made attempts. It is rumored her mother and grandmother from her mother’s line also made attempts, but those were never fully proven—or disproven.” Scowling slightly, Z traced a design on the table’s surface. “They are exiled from Court, but naturally still live within the main city. She has a younger sister, Azabell, whom Shalion is quite taken with.”