by Meagan Hurst
“A couple of months if we are incredibly lucky,” was the very grim and soft reply. “But, Zimliya, you cannot get even so much as a scratch or I will not be able to help.” He watched her weaken. “And now is not a time I can ask you to abstain from any and all events where you risk an injury.” He moved forward suddenly and touched her shoulder lightly before taking a step back. “Did you know when you came back?” he wanted to know.
“No,” she admitted truthfully. “Or else I would have just stayed. I wouldn’t have come back just to …” she let her words trail off. “Will Nivaradros be able to tell?”
“It depends on how bad you become,” the Mithane said slowly as he watched her.
Nodding once stiffly, Z went to move across the room. She didn’t even make it two steps. Her legs suddenly buckled, and if the Mithane hadn’t caught her she knew she would have been caught by the floor.
“Bad enough?” she whispered as the Mithane cradled her protectively in his arms and she found herself lacking any energy to fight back.
“I’m not going to let you die without a fight,” the Mithane replied evenly as he carried her through the rooms she hadn’t yet entered until he could place her on the bed. “Not after everything you’ve been through.”
“Not to mention you may need my aid to gain your kingdom back?” she asked slyly before she struggled to draw her breath in again.
“That would be nice, but that is a minor concern. I could call upon your Rangers, I am sure, if I needed to.” The Mithane’s eyes were solid black with worry and he gently reached out to touch her chest. She could tell he was concentrating, but when his eyes closed and he removed his hand, she realized the Mithane was unable to aid her.
“I knew what I offered when I woke them,” she reminded him softly when he refused to meet her gaze. “This is not your fault.” She tried to lighten the mood and forced a smile on her face. “And I told you not to grow attached.”
The Mithane’s expression shifted from neutral for a second as his eyes gained more black, before he smoothed out his features. It told her much; he wasn’t happy with her attempt for humor. “The Dragon is likely to kill me for not foreseeing this, but I didn’t think you were returning, and I haven’t checked your futures since you got back. Z, he is not going to handle this well.” Despite her current condition, she wondered when the Mithane had viewed her futures and found some link between her and Nivaradros if it hadn’t been since her return.
She inhaled with effort again—thankful she couldn’t feel the pain she knew must accompany the effort—before nodding. “I know,” she whispered. “I’ll try to talk with him, but not tonight.”
“You might be gone by morning. This is moving quickly through your system,” the Mithane countered quietly. “I can speak with him, but I would prefer to explain things before you expire.”
Z chuckled weakly, but flinched when the person of interest in their conversation was announced by the doors. As it was loud and in the Syallibion tongue, Z assumed the Mithane didn’t know what was said, but her reaction seemed to give it away.
“I can’t,” she told him softly. “Not now.”
Something akin to sympathy touched the Mithane’s eyes. “Alright,” he assured her as she struggled to stay awake. “I will tell him to go away for tonight.” He left her alone then, and she let out a sigh of relief.
Nivaradros, she knew, would never forgive her. He would possibly slip back into his Warlord demeanor, but there was nothing she could do to prevent or change it. Zyrhis, however, was an unknown. She had no idea how he would handle things. Those two were the foremost of her concern. The Rangers would understand, the Shades would accept it, and the rest would just have to cope.
She could dimly hear Nivaradros’s voice raise in anger at the Mithane’s words, but when she tried to move to even just get out of the bed she found it was impossible. She was tired, and she couldn’t even lift her head.
“Damn it to hells,” she whispered before closing her eyes. She wouldn’t be alive by morning, but she couldn’t prevent the inevitable either. Anger burned at the back of her mind, but not even that was enough to keep her alert. She lost the struggle to stay awake mere seconds later—the sounds of the Mithane and the Dragon’s argument fading into nothing. Waking in the morning, she knew, was not an option.
Yet wake in the morning she did. Coughing brought her out of what she assumed had been a pretty damn deep sleep, and her eyes flew open as she gasped for air. When she gave in to the fact she would never be able to fill her lungs, and her vision cleared enough for her to see someone had stayed beside her all night, she met the eyes of the Mithane. The Mithane’s color was ashen, and she could visibly see the strain the night—and the power he had used to keep her alive—had left upon him. His eyes were mostly black, but they moved slowly to brown as he continued to hold her gaze.
“Good morning, Young One,” he greeted her with a thin smile. “You gave me quite the challenge,” he added tiredly. “I thought I had lost you several times during the night, but you pulled through. The Dragon will be here shortly—I am glad you’re awake—so I would suggest you allow me to assist you into some semblance of a seated position.”
Z grimaced but managed a nod. It barely qualified as one, and a mortal wouldn’t have caught it, but Alantaion eyes—well immortal eyes—were keen. The Mithane gently helped her sit up against a thick stack of pillows he had gotten from somewhere. Once she was settled as best as she could be, the Mithane squeezed her right hand lightly and then moved away.
“I can sense the Dragon’s approach. He is highly vexed with my refusal to allow him to accompany me into your quarters last night, and he likely knows I didn’t leave. I will try to defuse his anger as best I can, but I do not know how successful I will be.” His eyes shaded to black after he finished speaking, and he quickly left the room.
Exhaustion clung to her worse than an ancient tree could cling to the side of a mountain. It broke through her defenses the way roots would break through stone, and when it was added to her growing weaknesses Z knew she couldn’t fight any of it off for long. Closing her eyes was a bad idea, but she did it anyways. Straining to hear what was going on outside the bedroom, she stiffened slightly when she heard the Mithane speak.
“Nivaradros,” the Alantaion ruler—ousted ruler—said quietly as she heard the far door open. “We must speak.”
Silence. Such a silence occurred at his words that Z desperately wanted to be in the same room as the two. It was sharp, painful, and cutting. She felt its reach even where she was now, and she wondered if it had wounded the Mithane. The length of time grew for a span she could not guess at, but finally Nivaradros spoke, and his tone was more wounding than any action or any blade could ever have been.
“Is she still alive?” the Dragon asked bleakly.
This pause was shorter, but Z still marked it. This conversation gave her something to focus on. Something to hold on to and it allowed the Mithane’s absence to occur without her death. “Barely,” the Mithane answered at long last. “I did—I have done—everything I could, Nivaradros. Nothing works, and I only managed to keep her heart beating and her lungs working at a level that sustained her. She is too weak to move, and I can do nothing more.”
She heard Nivaradros’s hiss of anger. “I want to see her,” he demanded, but his demand was shorn of every emotion except something she wished she could have been spared hearing: grief. “Did you know this was coming?”
“No. I would have warned you. She did not know as well. We all knew there would be no warning, but following the demise of Tenia I had hoped—” She wanted to know what he had hoped, but the Mithane dropped the thread of the conversation, and when he spoke again he began with another. “Come, Nivaradros. She is alive and she is conscious, but I cannot tell you how long she will remain either.”
She didn’t hear them approach, but it didn’t matter. Nivaradros passed through the open double doors first and then stopped. His eyes were a green
she didn’t know, and he kept his distance. It surprised her, but she could tell he feared the wrong shift of his weight would tip the scales that were evenly balanced between being alive and not. His jawline was tight with suppressed anger, but he didn’t speak, and he didn’t accuse her of anything with his eyes or his stance.
For her part, Z knew she had no energy left to speak, and so she could only watch him in return. She could neither lift a hand nor twitch a leg. She barely held on to the world. The Mithane returned to her side after Nivaradros remembered to clear the doorway. The Dragon’s mood had implied personal suicide to anyone who startled him, and the Mithane had always been good at reading people.
“What do you see in her as a healer?” the Dragon wanted to know in a hushed tone as he stood—frozen—in his chosen spot while his eyes continued to hold hers.
“Her blood is, in a sense, poisoned. Nothing I heal withstands the repair work I have placed upon it for long before it is back in the same condition I just pulled it out of. Her heart hasn’t succumbed completely yet, but I cannot heal it at all, Nivaradros, and it is not because of her defenses. She pulled them for me. Whatever is killing her as part of her bargain for awakening the Shades is untouchable by my magic.”
Nivaradros’s eyes closed briefly before he spun on the spot and smashed his human appearing hand hard enough against the ancient walls of the room that Z was certain anyone else would have shattered every bone from the fingers to their collarbone. Nivaradros, however, appeared unscratched by his display of rage; the Dragon’s knuckles didn’t even bleed. His jawline tightened again as he looked at her once more, and she could feel the room’s temperature rising sharply.
“What can I help with?” he inquired curtly.
“I am not certain anything further can be done,” the Mithane confessed unhappily. “I am sorry, Nivaradros, I wish I had answers that made for better hearing.”
The Dragon didn’t immediately respond. His gaze was directed at her, but Z could tell he was seeing something beyond her. When his gaze returned to her in full, she knew he had returned from his thoughts.
“It is not your fault,” he said slowly as though every word were being painfully torn from his lips.
“Is it not?” the Mithane wanted to know bitterly. “Pulling me into the shadows, the strain just fighting to keep me alive, the attacks upon her in my kingdom—any one of them, or all of them, could have triggered this prematurely.”
“As could have my constant pushes against her comfort zone,” the Dragon countered. “This is not the result of any of our actions. She made a deal before she met us. It is being collected now.” Nivaradros finally closed the distance between them. Gently picking up her hand, the Dragon turned it over as if his touch could kill her. “You look so weak,” he murmured uneasily. “You looked—I will be blunt—better when you were dead.”
She managed a smile. She couldn’t resist. His tone was just dry enough and the circumstance was just dire enough that his words registered as amusing. Smiling, apparently, took too much effort. Exhaling shortly since her inhales were still far too shallow, she closed her eyes again. The Dragon moved while they were closed. She felt him lift her with care, and she heard the Mithane’s sharp inhalation of protest.
“I will not have her die in a room that is locked in the heart of an ancient tree that only a Syallibion,” and at the last word a sneer entered his tone, “could feel at home in. If you can do nothing more for her—truly—you will allow me to take her away.”
It was amazing what could be heard in a silence. Z, even dying, knew the Mithane agreed with the Dragon to a point, but refused to give on this matter. She expected him to protest or offer up an argument to keep her contained in a room that reminded her of a prison because there was nothing within her ability to achieve. To her surprise, the Mithane’s lack of words began to lose its violent feel, and after at least fifteen minutes the Alantaion finally spoke.
“Tell no one,” he ordered the Dragon curtly. “And make sure I do not see you for at least a century. Shevieck can take care of himself.”
“As you command,” Nivaradros replied sarcastically before Z felt the world move as he began to walk. “Ungrateful little pointed-ear tidbit,” the Dragon added in a snarl once the sound of his footsteps changed enough to alert Z to the fact they were outside her temporary rooms. “As if I would tell anyone. You don’t need to be the target of everyone’s anger.”
She was glad she couldn’t comment. Letting the air she managed to grab circulate through her lungs, Z didn’t even try to guess where they were as the Dragon’s stride increased. The sudden whoosh that sounded before wind battered her face told her the Dragon had managed to get outside, but what did he plan to do with her now?
The answer shocked her to her core. She heard hooves approaching, but it wasn’t until Nivaradros spoke that she understood. “Do not let her fall,” the Dragon ordered softly. “I would carry her, but if I take to the skies she would be seen and questions would arise. Follow me and with luck we will retreat from these lands without anyone being the wiser. I know you know how to avoid being seen by the sentries; use that talent to its fullest. No one can know she is gone.”
She heard a familiar snort, and a moment later Nivaradros placed her on the back of Shanii in such a way that the stallion would easily be able to keep her aboard his back. The silky smooth coat of Shanii was comforting enough that she relaxed instantly against him.
“Be cautious with her,” the Dragon added. “I trust you to take care of her—everyone else would call this a foolish venture and risk—and I need you to. In return, I will offer you aid in some future event if you so desire.”
Shanii’s answer was short, but pleased with the offer, and Z was reminded again that the stallion seemed to both approve of and like Nivaradros, something he didn’t award to any of her other acquaintances. One day—and she laughed at the thought—she wanted to know why that was. She considered asking Shanii now since they could speak, with ease, entirely mentally, but she chose to pass. With what she knew about the Dragon she almost didn’t want to know what Shanii saw in him. Worst case it would cause her emotional pain—the only type of pain she was privy to—at best it would cause her anger. Neither was useful.
The stallion turned on his haunch and took off at a gallop that would keep her hidden from any who saw them, but Z knew from experience Shanii would let no one see them to begin with. At the most someone would find tracks, but those alone would prove nothing; Shanii traveled where he wished whenever he desired, and often it was without her upon his back. She made every effort to stay alive. Nivaradros had called, or possibly argued with, Shanii to get him to take her somewhere. She wanted to know where and why.
Time was hard to gauge as Shanii galloped, but when he fluidly changed directions and leads she realized he was indeed following the Dragon somewhere. She almost didn’t believe the two had grown this close—though close was the wrong word. Shanii lengthened his stride again and Z felt the wind start to pull her from his back. The stallion, however, was astute and sidestepped at the gallop to re-center her seat before she could fall. She struggled to stay awake, but in the end the flawless motion and her ever-present exhaustion pulled her into a sleep she could only hope she woke from.
“Does she live?”
Nivaradros’s voice woke her suddenly and Z was shocked to find Shanii was no longer moving. She heard the stallion’s irritated and cutting reply to the question, but Nivaradros apparently didn’t mind the answer as she didn’t hear him reply. Instead Shanii moved to follow him—she assumed since opening her eyes seemed like a waste of time now—and she could feel him picking his way through rugged terrain despite the fact she didn’t feel the difficulty the ground offered in his movements. It was simply the small pauses that alerted her to the fact the stallion was being extra careful.
Eventually it even became clear why he was being careful; her position on his back tilted forward. He was going down either a mountain or a very,
very steep hill. With her luck, she assumed it was the former and she wondered where they were. A light touch every so often alerted her to the Dragon’s presence; the light touch told him she was still alive. The desire to open her eyes again lost to the desire to conserve energy she didn’t have to begin with. Coughing as the dust irritated her already strained lungs, she waited to get some indication of their location. The answer, when it finally came, didn’t really help.
“I thought I told you I didn’t want to see you in these lands for at least two human centuries,” a very cold and furious voice snapped suddenly in front of them. At least she thought the voice came from in front of them.
“It’s been three,” was Nivaradros’s collected, but dry reply. “Believe I would not be here if it were a matter I could take to anyone else. I am well aware of how unwelcome I am here, despite other parts of our past.”
“You brought company,” the speaker sighed. “It is unusual for anyone to survive more than two minutes in your company—especially since this one seems to be human. What do you want, Warlord?”
“I require your aid,” Nivaradros informed the stranger Z could not see. “The human is dying. I need to prevent or delay her death for as long as possible. I took her to the Alantaion Mithane, but he could do nothing more than give her enough time to come here.”
There was an icy silence. “So he knows you came here?” the voice demanded harshly of the Dragon. Z was surprised Nivaradros was keeping his temper under wraps, but it was clear from what she was hearing that the Dragon had come here before, and it had been centuries ago when the mildness he had shown for the past year hadn’t existed. As both the unknown stranger and the Dragon were still alive, she could only guess that Nivaradros had learned to be on the receiving end of the temper from whomever he was speaking to.
“He does not,” Nivaradros said smoothly. “He believes I took her somewhere to die. I just did not confirm or deny his belief.”
Some of the coldness began to thaw. “Who is she?”