by Meagan Hurst
Nivaradros, to her surprise, noticed and inclined his head to the Alantaion. Vyrike returned the nod with an air of respect he hadn’t shown before. It appeared the threat before them was greater than the immortal’s perceived threat of Nivaradros, or perhaps he had finally come to realize the Dragon he wanted to make Nivaradros out to be no longer existed. Whatever the reason, it was reassuring to see the Alantaion put aside things now that there was a very high potential for danger.
One of the gathered self-important Dragons exhaled a long stream of fire which charred the already blackened ground before him. “Nivaradros?” he called out suspiciously. Z had to suppress a laugh as she realized only Wyenrtros and Veilantras had seen Nivaradros in his mortal form; these Dragons were uncertain who stood before them.
“You found me,” Nivaradros said dryly as he eyed the Dragon without much interest. “In a swarm of other races, in fact. Congratulations.”
The awaiting Dragons exchanged glances. They seemed uncertain which way to take Nivaradros’s sarcastic response. Eventually another spoke up. “You have been branded an Outcast—”
“Again? Or are you going to give me a brief history of my past?”
Z elbowed him. “Must you play with fire?”
Nivaradros gave her an amused look but tipped his head and glanced down at the Dragons who had stayed several hundred feet back from the dock—though that was to be expected. The dock was made of wood, and the Rangers had explained to the Dragons that the next time it burned down they were not going to rebuild it.
“Speak on,” Nivaradros drawled in a bored tone. “What has the Council decided this time?”
“You have not answered any of the summons you were sent. Not even when we made the mistake of believing you had matured. The offer to give you a position on the Council has been retracted, and due to your unwillingness to show even the slightest of courtesies to your own, it has been decided that you are too dangerous to be allowed to live.”
Z froze as a cold anger struck her. Straightening, she called fire without moving as much as a finger, and without opening her mouth. It filled the air above her in a wave that mirrored the ocean behind them. Although she did this on a much smaller scale and without endangering those around her.
“How dare you,” she snapped—the chill in her voice coating the ground the Dragons were upon with ice. She was barely willing to keep the ice from touching them, but she did it because she wanted to arrive and disembark from the Dyenrits Caris without putting the beings that had brought them here at risk. “Nivaradros has been unable to come because he has been busy fighting on behalf of the races your people are sworn to aid, and although you have upheld your end of the alliance tolerably, you have the nerve to say that by doing so himself he has dishonored his people?”
That deflated the group. The blue Dragon blinked and once more exchanged glances with his peers. It was clear they either didn’t know that information, or hadn’t expected her to throw it in their faces. While they debated how to continue with their demands, Z felt a familiar presence arrive and turned to face the Dragon who was approaching them from one of the halls that led out to the docks. Unlike the previous escort, Veilantras was in mortal form, and unlike the youngsters before them, her eyes were calm—especially when Veilantras found her next to Nivaradros.
“You are dismissed,” Veilantras informed the young Dragons as she reached the still frozen ground the Dragons stood before. One of them—the green one—opened his mouth, but Veilantras held up her hand. “I have spoken with the Council, and they have agreed to let Nivaradros, Zimliya, and their guests speak. Until the meeting has concluded they have also agreed to withhold all judgment in case new evidence is brought to light regarding Nivaradros’s actions.”
“And they will be staying?” A red Dragon inquired.
“As guests in my lair—all of them.” Veilantras’s brow rose as she spied Shanii, but her gaze returned to Nivaradros and stayed there. “Nivaradros?” she called out to him. “If you would be so kind?”
Nivaradros inclined his head but offered Z his arm and made sure she accepted it before heading down the ramp. The crew slowly stepped away from them as they passed, and Shanii snorted and leapt from the deck to the ramp; placing himself in front of both Nivaradros and her as if he was offering them protection. Dyslentio took up the rear since Shanii had allowed him no other option.
Shanii’s ears were flat against his skull when he took the final step off the ramp. Eyeing the Dragons—Veilantras included—with the deepest of loathing, he seemed to grow larger as he approached them. His neck and head were drawn close to his chest and he was ready to attack if anyone moved as much as a scale. The younger Dragons, who had decided to remain for some unknown reason, didn’t know what to make of the very, very angry stallion before them. Veilantras, however, knew Shanii and was used to his anger. Not to mention Z detected a hint of guilt in Veilantras whenever the Dragon’s eyes fell on her.
By the time she and Nivaradros stepped off the ship’s ramp and the tentative safety that it had offered them, the younger Dragons had left, leaving Veilantras there to greet them for her people. The female Dragon moved forward and Z had a second’s warning to steel herself before Veilantras’s arms wrapped around her and drew her close.
“You survived!” Veilantras whispered. She would have said more, but Nivaradros caught her upper arm in his hand and drew her back and away.
“I would prefer it if you kept your distance from Zimliya until you and I have had a chance to talk. I may ask you to keep your distance for longer, but do me the courtesy of giving her space now.”
Veilantras didn’t protest. Instead she appeared to wait for Dyslentio to join them. At her gesture, Z and Nivaradros led the group forward. As both Z and Nivaradros had been here before, neither of them had any quarrels about leading the way. Z handed the lead off to Nivaradros once they were inside the first hall that led from the outside world to the inner one the Dragons had created with the aid of magic and the Rangers. The Isle had originally been a desert when it had been chosen for the Dragons to live upon. All the mountains that now existed upon it had been transported to it and magically grown—including the mountain Nivaradros’s line had once ruled from.
The minute Nivaradros stepped into the second hall, Z felt Dyslentio’s jump despite the fact he was a good ten feet behind her, but she couldn’t blame him. The heat and the fire that suddenly swirled around them like a dangerous fog was concerning. The scent of burning plants engulfed them, but it also made this hall visible to its walkers. The first hall they’d passed through had contained little light and was only easy to navigate if one was a Dragon or with them.
The fire that wove around them swirled as if they were a package that was being wrapped. Z could see the ancient writing carved into the walls around them. Without hesitating, she spoke a single word in Dragon and watched as the words lit up one at a time as if a greater power touched each one. The fire around them softened into a mist. It still swirled around them in patterns, and Z’s shirt began to stick to her body from the heat. It was, she decided, the most annoying part of this hall.
By the time they reached the third hall, Z was dressed in an elegant skin-tight black dress that still allowed her full movement. It was edged in the silver that the Dragons occasionally traded outside their own lands in return for goods. Their silver was rare, because they didn’t value it; the mining of it was—in most Dragon eyes—a waste of time. What her dress didn’t hide was her lightning. It was active, and in this dimly lit hall, the storm it was mimicking was reflected off the walls. The jagged edges of walls distorted the lightning, and she could tell Dyslentio was unaware the flashes of light in the hall were from her. Sensing his unease, and knowing just how offsetting this whole adventure must be for him, Z took pity on the Kryhista and turned to reveal her lightning to him.
His eyes regarded the lightning that danced wildly across her stomach and chest, but she wasn’t certain if he was aware it was h
ers, and not a part of their surroundings. Meeting his eyes in silence for a minute she turned away to continue walking when she saw clarity in his eyes. This hall was quiet, but not in the threatening way the first hall had been. This one was designed for reflection and thought—forcing those who came here to consider their words before they came upon a race who could be enraged by the wrong ones.
They finished walking through the hall without incident, but as Nivaradros stepped into the fourth hall there was a flare of power and Z threw her shields up as the entire hall became one giant death trap. The fire of the second hall had been playful; this fire was out to destroy. It had been released within the confinement of the stone, and it bounced aggressively back and forth while it tried to burn anything and everything that dared to walk through it. It was not, however, new. Z had faced this fire each time she had ventured to the Isle, and even the Dragons who lived here had to face it if they chose to walk these paths through the mountains. Despite the fierceness of the flames, Z’s shields held and everyone emerged from the hall into a chamber that reminded her slightly of Nivaradros’s personal rooms in his lair. The difference was, Nivaradros’s design was far more impressive.
The stone beneath their feet burned with a red-black fire that swirled in lines of language and symbols that had meaning only to those who knew how to read them. She had the ability, but she did not read them this time. She had years ago when she had first come here, and what was carved upon the floor did not shift or change with time. The walls around them likewise burned with fire, but it was a green and golden fire that pieced together images to which she did pay attention. They captured and recorded what went on in this room, and for the very wise and observant, they offered warnings.
For a black Kryhista, Dyslentio was looking almost green, and Z had a feeling that whatever he had envisioned of a land ruled, created, and tweaked by an ancient race of magic had not come close to what he was viewing. And he hadn’t truly seen a good representation of it yet. He caught her watching him and shook his head.
“Next time, I would appreciate some warning,” he drawled.
“I did. I told you it was probably not advisable for you to come,” she retorted as Shanii moved to stand behind her. Her vision went to Nivaradros, but he was as unreadable as the mountain was. Her gaze moved to Veilantras, who was keeping her distance and stayed there. “Well? Are we going to the Council first to play at trading insults, or do we get the rest of the day to prepare to deal with thousands of uninformed and judgmental Dragons?”
Veilantras winced. “They can hear you in here, as you know.”
“I am well aware of that. My words remain.”
“You will be granted the rest of the day and night to consider your positions before being summoned. Due to Nivaradros’s status here, however, you have to remain within my lair until his fate is decided. With the amount of information on which I briefed them since leaving you and returning to the Isle, they have much to consider before you are called. Because of this, I would expect your presence to be requested in the late afternoon tomorrow, if at all. As you must be weary from your travels, I am happy to escort you to your quarters while you visit the Isle.”
Without waiting for a reply, Veilantras turned and led them through the first doors they came to. Stone woven with magic, wood, and steel, they looked anything but moveable. When they opened with one sinking into the floor and the other being drawn up into the ceiling, Z once again found herself wondering how the one door managed to rise without just sinking into the depths below until something heavier stopped it from sinking further, while the other door never fell and smashed the unsuspecting victim stupid enough to walk under it. Needless to say she picked the side of the door that sunk into the floor to walk on.
Nivaradros raised a brow at her abrupt change to his left side, but he made no comment. The small smile that touched his lips though told her he knew her thoughts. As he crossed the doorway on the side she had refused to use, the unthinkable happened. The door fell.
Z had her magic ready to shield him, but Nivaradros didn’t require it. Catching the bottom of the door with one hand, he lifted it as he swore loudly in Dragon. Shoving the door back up to where it was supposed to be, Nivaradros watched it with suspicion. It didn’t fall a second time.
“You should consider having that door examined,” he advised Veilantras as Z watched the female Dragon closely. Due to the statue-like stance Veilantras had adopted, Z had a feeling that door had never fallen before. Someone had just made an attempt on Nivaradros’s life.
“I will see that is addressed,” Veilantras replied in a tight tone. “I am pleased to see you haven’t neglected your training while entertaining yourself in a mortal form.” Turning back to the hall that had been revealed behind the doors, Veilantras led the group stiffly through the maze that made up the inner workings of this particular mountain.
Each hall either had a test, a brief glance into the history that few remembered, or a display of the Dragon race’s power. The tests were passed by Z alone as Nivaradros seemed disinclined to reward his race any view of his talents, and it was clear he also planned to solidify her position as a power to anyone who was viewing their passage.
When they emerged, unscratched, to the lush meadow that seven of the twenty-six transported mountains contained between them, Z could only imagine there were some disappointed Dragons within the hidden chambers of the mountain they had just left. Beside her, Nivaradros kept a watchful eye on both the skies and the area surrounding them. He was, she knew, unhappy to be here, but more than that, he was certain both of them were targets. Dyslentio’s safety would unfortunately be up to her from this point forward. Veilantras chuckled at the Kryhista’s surprised look at the meadow, and she gestured at the hip high grasses it contained.
“It’s not poisonous, feel free to dine upon it if you wish. The snows do not fall here, as we keep the valley warm throughout the seasons so the creatures the Rangers deliver or those we have managed to cultivate ourselves always have a place to graze. I do think it would be wiser if you allowed me to escort you to and from the meadow, unless Shanii would be willing to fulfill that position?” Veilantras directed the last at the stallion who shook his head and spoke to Z alone.
“He’ll consider it unless Dyslentio does something foolish, in which case the horned one can defend himself,” Z explained on his behalf to the others. “If the two of them wish to remain behind, I don’t think it would be a problem. Shanii’s been here before, and he knows the way to Veilantras’s lair.”
The two Dragons exchanged a glance before turning to Dyslentio. The Kryhista seemed torn between hunger and the desire not to be watched by Shanii. “I suppose I can trust him to keep a lookout,” Dyslentio agreed after a pause.
“Then it’s settled,” Veilantras replied before she moved as if to offer Z something. Whatever it was remained a mystery, as Veilantras turned away instead to continue leading them up the side of a mountain to her lair.
It took the better part of three hours to arrive. As one of the eldest Dragons, Veilantras had gotten to claim a part of the mountain first and therefore called home the highest part of one of the largest mountains on the Isle. From the outside it appeared to be a typical mountain. Trees, boulders, dirt—though it was mostly covered by snow—waterfalls, and wildlife surrounded them, and they climbed until the trees began to grow smaller and less frequent before eventually disappearing altogether as the mountain continued to a height where they could not grow.
At a point just below the peak of the mountain, Z eyed the mound of snow Veilantras had removed from the ‘entrance’ to her home. Seeing Z’s bemused glance at the massive pile of snow, Veilantras grimaced. “The Council has forbidden everyone from melting the snow after five of the newly become adults offered to melt the snow outside of fifteen lairs and flooded the meadow. It took far too much magic and time to undo the damage. It has been decided that we get to live with the snow unless we wish to magic it out to the se
a.”
“Makes sense,” Z pointed out at Veilantras’s look of disgust.
“It does, and I was one of many to make that Council decision come to pass, but quite honestly I wish I had had the foresight to remove my snow first. It’s hard on the eyes whenever the sun hits it as I come out of the lair, and water has already twice tried to enter the lair when the pile started to melt.”
“Snow generally does melt at some point,” Nivaradros said with a chuckle.
Veilantras snorted. “You have been spending far too much time around those bound to the ground, around Z and the Alantaions in particular,” she informed him as she waved them both inside following a long speech in Dragon giving them permission to do so.
“You always told me to widen my flight patterns. After doing so, all I get in return is your complaint that I have adapted patterns too complex to be accepted among my peers. It is highly disheartening to say the least.”
Veilantras groaned. “Z, just what have you been doing to him?”
“Nothing. Believe me, I have been doing nothing to him. Welcome to my life,” she added as she walked down the semi-steep—and annoyingly dark—path into Veilantras’s entry. The walls danced with the element of her race, but the chairs that were placed in the center of the rather large room were the same hand-crafted chairs that had been here the last time Z had visited.
“Take a seat,” Veilantras requested. “And then perhaps if you two are not weary from your travels, you can tell me how the rest of your journey to the Isle went.”
Resigning herself to this conversation, Z found herself heading to the smallest chair in the room by default. Tucking herself into it, she drew up her feet under her and watched as Nivaradros chose to remain standing. “Nivaradros…” she began.