The Price of Survival (Journey of an Arbais Mage Book 2)

by Meagan Hurst

  He led her down a different hall after making a right, and Z had to stop to catch her breath when she noticed what Nivaradros had done here. He had captured the sea. Clearly, he had gone down to the depths of one of the oceans, or had split the water to either side of him to examine what was normally covered, for he once again had the details down to something that surpassed mere art. Having walked the depths of the ocean both by moving the water to the side and by being surrounded by shadow, Z knew how accurate his depiction was. The types of coral on rocks beneath a ‘shallow reef’ were so real in seeming that the lack of color only came as an afterthought. Z spied starfish, crabs, and at least twenty other types of creatures that called the reef home as Nivaradros continued to lead her through the hall with smug pride at her surprise. There was no water, but the way he had carved—and she reminded herself this had all been done with talons—made the water felt, and there even appeared to be moving waves. Only staring at them for a minute or longer gave away the fact that there was no magic in this hall, just illusions revealed in Nivaradros’s talented work.

  She began to follow him more eagerly as the reef gave into the deeper parts of the ocean, and Nivaradros’s hall portrayed everything to the point Z had to constantly remind herself she was in a bloody cave. Sharks, whales, and their prey gave way to creatures that had no names because so few had seen them, and Z felt the chill of the deepest parts of the ocean as Nivaradros led her further down the hall, and seemingly deeper into the ocean. Formations from lava, time, and stone were visible, and Z finally had to stop to touch one.

  “Nivaradros,” she finally whispered in surprise as her fingers traced a creature she had never seen before or read about. She glanced up, for this hall was taller than most, which was saying something since all of Nivaradros’s halls could easily support two Dragons walking side by side in their native forms. “This is incredible.”

  “You like it?” Since it was obvious she did, Z thought it was a stupid question, but a sidelong glance at the Dragon told her he was truly seeking reassurance. Again, her desire to be furious with the Dragon was fading, and she sighed and tried to hold on to some of her distrust.

  “I will never see its equal.”

  “No,” he agreed gravely. “But come, Z. This is not what I meant to show you, but I am glad you like it.”

  It was a reminder that she was still angry at him, but Z was willing to set her anger to the side in the face of something that could strike her with this much awe. When the hall finally ended, Z almost wanted to stay and walk it for the whole of a day to see everything she knew she had missed. But the Dragon was slightly apprehensive now, and Z wasn’t willing to push him; she still half expected him to kill her despite what he claimed.

  A fairly plain stone door was their stopping point at the very end of the hall. The hall continued by turning to the left—and changing displays—but Nivaradros stopped her before she could even see what that hall was displaying or mimicking. The door faded as Nivaradros led her through it, and Z felt her mouth open slightly as a familiar and welcome sight met her eyes.

  It was a training court. Her training court, to be precise. Or a mirror image of it. Z walked forward without even thinking, and slowly ran her hands along the edge of the railing that surrounded a training circle for sparring. The fence wasn’t wooden—as it was in the Ranger lands she called home—but the stone had been designed to look just like it, down to the nicks in the wood she remembered.

  Slipping under the fence, Z strolled into the circle with something akin to longing. The ground was sand and balanced the same way as hers. A glance up showed her the rope she had placed back home to fight upon. She could work on her balance again. It was how she had gained grace and talent close to the immortals, and she hadn’t been able to work on her coordination for long enough that she was positive it would be lacking. And with her condition’s deterioration since she’d been back, she would definitely need to work on everything once more to be at even half of what she’d been. She doubted she’d be able to return to her former skill set.

  Glancing back towards the arena and turning to her right, Z saw a display of weapons that mirrored the ones she normally used—practice all of them—in a stone holding case that had again been built to be a copy of the one she knew. A sudden thought struck, and she spun from where she was to the left almost one hundred and eighty degrees to see a familiar written word that pulsed green in a stone encasement. Z then whirled to face the Dragon and found he hadn’t moved, but he was watching her intently. When her eyes met his, he smiled nervously—that alone was astonishing—and inclined his head in silence.

  “Ilentio, activate training,” Z called out sharply. “Level one hundred and thirty-seven. Opponents armed with both weapons and magic with no less than fifteen attackers.”

  As the familiar sound of the magical tester began, Z sensed a different magic behind it and blinked as she remembered where she was. Nivaradros would never stop surprising her. The Dragon had created this whole place based on her training grounds. Just what had he been up to? And why? His earlier declaration regarding his fight with Veilantras being an act started to feel plausible, but she wasn’t willing to release her distrust just yet.

  Images began to form around her as she found her spot in the circle—not dead center like a beginner, but to the left of the center and three feet from the fence. Holding out her hand as a practice sword left its holding grounds to come at her silent call, Z checked the wooden blade with care for its flaws, and then adjusted her grip and stance to counter them. The blades had been made by humans, after all.

  “Interesting. Don’t you think you should start at a lower level and work your way back up?”

  “Nivaradros, I am at level four hundred and eighty-six. I believe this is a lower level.”

  “Ah. Just be careful then,” the Dragon replied, looking uneasy as her ‘opponents’ solidified as much as they ever did—which wasn’t much, as they were formed from magic.

  She counted twenty and began to work out a plan of attack. Three were mages, eight were swordsmen, and the rest were users of both steel and magic, but without high talent in either. She would have to be careful here. The only blessing was this was the only way she would know for sure how her body would react to the stress of battle without being in one—nothing here could hurt her but herself. She sensed Nivaradros moving in from the doorway at long last, but the attack began, and Z pushed the thought of everything but the fight from her mind.

  They attacked as a decently-trained group would—which meant they still had a lot of weaknesses. Midestol still hadn’t realized after all this time that it was his training that enabled so many single fighters to defeat multiples of his forces with effort, but successfully. Z countered and attacked then as years of practice and actual battles had taught her. Magic was easy enough to deflect without using her own—that was perhaps her biggest pet peeve. Magic did not require magic to counter it. Her attackers fell and vanished if she managed to ‘kill’ them, or they stumbled back, regrouped, and attacked again if she wounded them. This Ilentio was just like the one she had designed with the help of one of the few full-time Ranger mages. She fell into the rhythm of the match without losing herself in it. Each trick her magically created opponents tried to use upon her she disabled and countered with ease.

  She was down to eleven opponents when she felt as if she were struck by lightning. A seizure struck, and Z switched tactics to fight a different kind of enemy. Nivaradros roared, Ilentio vanished the remaining combatants, and Z struggled to keep the practice blade’s blue edge away from her skin as she once again lost complete control of her body.

  “Steady, steady, steady,” Nivaradros called from above her as he once again held her down upon the ground. She sensed him take her sword—she couldn’t feel it—and she struggled to speak. “Not now. Just wait until this has passed. You are alright, Z. You did well. Just do your best to relax. This will be over soon.”

  But it wasn’t.
Nearly twenty-five minutes later Z was still in the deep grips of her seizure and the Dragon had resorted to magic to keep her alive. His amulet’s beat had become almost a throbbing sensation as it struggled to help her survive this. Her vision flickered in and out of focus and she struggled to win her battle. She had to beat this, damn it. If she didn’t she would never be of any use to anyone. Fighting her body with everything she had for control, Z finally felt the seizure releasing her as it faded away. Her vision began to return, as did the feel of being human. She was drenched in sweat and covered in the tiny grains of sand because of it, but Nivaradros didn’t even let her attempt to stand. Bending down, he gently encircled her form with his arms before lifting her easily and beginning to carry her from the room.

  “Well, you did manage pretty nicely for a while there. And Ilentio seemed to respond the same to you here as it does back in your court. Since it was my magic alone that created it here, I was uncertain it would work to your specifications.”

  Still trembling with the after-effects of her episode, Z managed a tired nod, but said nothing. Nivaradros didn’t take offense to her silence, and he carried her quickly through his halls. At some point, she was aware of him removing her clothes, but it wasn’t until she found herself placed into a heated pool of water that it registered he had been carrying her somewhere naked. She jerked awake and blinked when she recognized the pool—or bath—from her room. The warmth was greatly appreciated, and Z let her head rest on the edge of the pond while the water erased the after chill of her seizure.

  The Dragon was watching her every move. “How are you?”

  “Alive.” Her voice sounded weak again, and she struggled to move in the water because of it. She wanted to feel like she could do something.

  “Ah, I would advise against that,” Nivaradros said quickly as he placed his hands on her bare shoulders. “You were really thrashing on the ground before I made it to your side. I don’t know if you did anything damaging to yourself—like break a rib or two—with your practice blade.”

  “Was there blue on my clothing?”

  “No.”

  “Then I didn’t hit myself.” She felt violently ill, though, and she closed her mouth and eyes so she wouldn’t throw up in the Dragon’s pond. Pool. Bath. Whatever the hells it was.

  There was suddenly a presence beside her, and Z nearly jumped out of her skin in surprise. For very heavy creatures, Dragons could move silently when they wanted to. “Don’t you ever do that to me again!” she hissed as she managed to keep her seat on the ledge carved into the side of the walls.

  “I will warn you next time if you are this unwell,” Nivaradros assured her. His eyes danced, and she noticed he was still clothed.

  “I thought most immortals hated getting their clothing wet.”

  “Since when am I most immortals? Besides, I rather thought anything less than this would cause you to attempt to kill me. Or send you into another seizure out of fright.”

  He was right, so she didn’t bother to respond to his words. Closing her eyes again, she enjoyed the water as it slowly relaxed muscles that hadn’t stopped twitching with the rest of her when her attack had passed. An arm around her shoulders caused her to tense for a moment, but when it merely looped around her shoulders to touch the amulet that was still pressed against her chest, she relaxed. There was a slight surge of magic from the Dragon’s touch on the amulet, but as the result was her lungs feeling like they could breathe fully again, she didn’t voice a protest.

  “Can we talk about earlier?”

  Z opened her eyes and regarded the Dragon cautiously. “No, but we can talk about why you have created a copy of my practice court.”

  “The Alantaions, the Syallibions, and I believe five other immortal races have something similar for you.”

  “They have something similar, yes, not a direct duplicate that covers everything from my ring to my magically created drill master and opponents.”

  “I figured you would be missing it by now, between being away from this world for eight months and all the time you had to be away from it before then.”

  “Are we going to play word games all night?”

  “If you don’t ask me direct questions, yes. I happen to sometimes enjoy conversations that can be drawn out. Besides, this gives me an excuse to remain with you longer. You are weak, Zimliya, and I am concerned for your wellbeing.”

  She wanted to hit him. “Who did you create this room for?” she demanded to know as she opened her other eye and fixed both of them coldly on the Dragon.

  “You, of course.”

  “Why?”

  The Dragon sighed with smoke. “Because I planned to have you come here when you returned from your ‘vacation.’ I thought perhaps you would want to get away from everyone. Here, you wouldn’t have to worry about running into anyone—”

  “Other than you.”

  “—and you wouldn’t have responsibilities you hate tossed your way. I had hoped to bring you here the minute you returned—before anyone else knew of your arrival—but things didn’t go quite like I had hoped. Besides, once you got involved with the Mithane’s internal affair, I doubted you would step away if I asked.”

  She was shocked. The fact that Nivaradros had spent several months—and she didn’t know when he had had the time since he had been babysitting the Mithani while she had been gone—making her two private rooms in his lair was something she couldn’t quite grasp. Following the events of the morning, it wasn’t surprising she struggled to accept the concept, but she didn’t know how to weigh the two different things.

  “How long did you plan to keep me here?”

  “I wasn’t planning on keeping you here. I despise that term—keeping. Lose it. I simply hoped you would consider this some place safer to stay than any of the kingdoms or the Ranger lands. Someone can always find you there—for ill or good—while no one could enter or find you here. It would also be the very last place anyone would look.”

  “Since you’re known as being anything but sunshine and rainbows?”

  “Very funny.” Nivaradros surprised her by making a face. “It pains me to admit I now get that reference.” He shook his head, and then jumped out of the bath. Literally. He went from sitting beside her to standing above her—dripping water from his clothing—in a single motion. “Will you eat now?” he inquired as his clothing dried instantly.

  “You are bound and determined to feed me.”

  “It seems to be one of the few things that annoys you, but doesn’t bring you to a killing rage. You just endured a horrible seizure, you need to eat something.”

  Knowing full well he would continue to nag her, and feeling a bit numb from everything that had gone on today, Z sighed and slid off the ledge to find the stairs that led out of the bath. Before she could get there, Nivaradros bent over and picked her up.

  “Will you stop that?!” She managed to land a solid kick to his ribs—not that he felt it—before he put her down, threw a towel at her, and moved to one of the two chairs that had appeared, with the table, while she was recovering.

  “No. Because right now I can get away with it.” He sat carefully in the chair on the left and gestured to the one across from him. “You are welcome to dress first if you would prefer.”

  “You are damn lucky I have no sense of modesty.” Stalking over to her chair, Z took a seat gingerly and eyed the food that had been set out before them—or before her, at least. She wasn’t certain the Dragon found any of the small tidbits humans ate appetizing.

  “I am well aware how fortunate I am that you do not obsess over your looks, or whether or not you are wearing clothes or going without them. Believe that I know at least that much about humans.” Sea-green eyes danced as a smile touched the Dragon’s lips.

  “I’m still fairly vexed with you.”

  “As you hold grudges for a while—granted your definition of ‘a while’ is not anyone else’s—it does not surprise me in the least. But you are permitting me t
o remain in the same room, so I consider that a small gift.”

  “Don’t incinerate it.”

  Nivaradros chuckled. “I am trying not to. But it is always very hard to guess what will or will not cause something to go up in flames.”

  Z reached for something simple she could identify—in this case an apple—and leaned back in her chair to enjoy it while she kept one eye on the Dragon. “So, what now?”

  “Preferably I keep you here until you can master your fighting in a way that won’t get you killed on a battlefield. I am not foolish enough to make the attempt to either keep you from all battles or ask you to refrain from joining them. You would refuse to hold yourself back from protecting others, and if I made the attempt to prevent you from leaving, it would have disastrous consequences on our relationship. I have no desire to fall any further down when it comes to your regard.”

  Her throat tightened at the truth in his words. “And yet you still refuse to tell me what you want from me.”

  “I told you, I fear it would only make things worse. It is nothing bad, but you find the strangest of things concerning, and I already upset you greatly today. I’m still trying to repair your trust from the last misstep of mine.”

  “So, will you tell me tomorrow?”

  “Having you angry at me for two days in a row would not make this any better.”

  “Why are you so certain I will react badly to whatever it is you want?”

  “Recall that I am a Dragon, with a Dragon’s memory. I know how well you react to quite a lot of things, or how poorly you react to them.” Nivaradros surprised her by reaching forward and taking an apple off the table with a look of open revulsion. “I will never understand human tastes…” he murmured before sniffing the apple and taking a bite. His face was priceless, but she managed not to laugh as he swallowed his tiny—and it had to feel tiny to him—bite, and then seemed to suppress a shudder.