by Meagan Hurst
Alright, she agreed. But the Dragon is a part of this as well… She felt their anger and dismay, but the Rangers who had come to her to make this thing possible broke into the conversation and began to argue for Nivaradros. And my first loyalty will be to my kingdoms. The Rangers will come second, although I will continue to live by our ways.
To her astonishment they didn’t protest. Daryien and Ryedrin explained Nivaradros over and around her with ease, and Z felt the hostility towards the Dragon all but vanish. He was, as he had pointed out, no more to blame than anyone else. Yet he was the only one being blamed. Anger toward Crilyne remained, but Z expected that and promised to keep his visits around Rangers as limited as she could. Forewarning everyone that he would be by her side on the battlefield, she pulled away from her Rangers at last and blinked as she found neon eyes in front of her.
“I wanted to make sure you were breathing,” Nivaradros muttered as he moved away. “And no, before you ask, you weren’t breathing a second ago.” His eyes were agitated and she knew how much he hated being left out. “Well?” he wanted to know.
“I am still the de la Nepioa,” she admitted, knowing he felt that the position was toxic to her.
The Dragon’s lips thinned. “Are they aware things have changed?” he wanted to know.
“I explained it,” she informed him. “They understand, Nivaradros, that my loyalty is different from what it was before; they accepted it.”
“We will see if they manage to apply it,” the Dragon sighed. “Is that all your Rangers wanted?” Great. He was back to calling them ‘her’ Rangers. At least he wasn’t trying to kill them.
Hesitating for a minute, Z reached for her amulet and grabbed the chain it hung from. Yanking down sharply she felt the snap and moved her hand and what it contained toward Nivaradros. The Dragon’s eyes were confused and bright with concern. Seeing the amulet in her hands, his eyes flickered to her neck where her amulet remained.
“It is,” she began to explain, “an amulet that is both of the Rangers and apart from them. It marks you as belonging to me so if you cross them in any way, I am the person who pays.”
“How often are these handed out?” Nivaradros inquired.
“Not often, although I have handed out five.” She didn’t move her hand and Nivaradros’s gaze never left it. The amulet picked up a soft silver glow and she waited—feeling the shock of the Rangers behind her. This was his choice and what he chose would reveal much.
In the end Nivaradros reached out and picked up the delicate chain the amulet dangled on. “Do I have to put it on?” he drawled. As he spoke the amulet reacted at long last. Seconds later it hung around his neck and the hand that had been emptied reached up to touch it. “I see,” he said in surprise. Open, almost delighted surprise. The Dragon had always liked magic. Later, when they were alone, she was certain Nivaradros was going to go over every centimeter of the amulet to learn about it.
She had a feeling he would be shocked at what he would discover. His amulet didn’t have all the capabilities hers did, but it had enough that the Dragon would be able to grasp why the Rangers were so close, and why they had chosen to disappear during the hunting years. She was pleased he had accepted what she had offered. A part of her had feared he would turn the amulet down. She could feel concern through her amulet; there wasn’t a single person within the Rangers that was comforted by her decision. But she trusted Nivaradros, and she was certain with time they would do the same.
Hostilities done with for the time being, Z used the rest of the meeting to solidify the alliances between the Rangers, the Alantaions, the Syallibions, as well as informing them all that she intended to create new alliances between the Rangers, the Ryelentions, and the Dralations. After the way the meeting had started, Z was relieved when it came to a close. Grateful it had ended on the terms that it had.
“When you plan to head into battle, Zimliya—call for us,” Daryien told her as the Rangers filed towards the door following the conclusion of their gathering.
“We will,” she assured him with a dark smile. “It seems to be the one thing that brings people together. The chance to maim or kill others.”
“It is rather embarrassing, but take what you can get,” the elder Ranger advised before bowing to her and following the rest of the Rangers out. There was almost a skip in all of their steps, and Z found herself smiling even as she shook her head.
“That went better than I expected,” a soft voice said from behind her. Turning, she found Crilyne regarding her with a curious expression.
“He deserved the amulet.”
“He did,” the Shade agreed. “But I was rather more impressed with your defense of him rather than the fact you offered him a twin of your amulet.”
Pressing her lips together, Z didn’t reply, but her eyes found the Dragon as he spoke with the Mithane in a corner. “You shouldn’t have done that; it was a rather large gamble,” Z chided.
Nivaradros glanced over at her words and a smile touched his lips. “Who better to convince others than I that I am not what they fear? I needed the Rangers to spread the word, and the only way to do that was to confront them and hope between my answers—and hopefully your backing—and my actions they would realize they had misjudged me. Very, very few disagree with the Rangers. I am weary of explaining myself. This felt like a more permanent fix; not that I won’t have to explain myself again, but at least it shouldn’t be every damn time I meet someone who cares for you.”
The Shade’s surprise was almost strong enough to feel. “You knew he was going to bait them?”
“It is his way of proving himself,” she reminded Crilyne. “And I am just as tired as he is of explaining things. I was hopeful this would work. Now if you will excuse us, the Dragon and I have to prepare to leave.”
“A minute, Zimliya,” the Mithane called out. “If you would be willing to remain, there are some things we need to discuss.”
“Can it wait?”
“No.”
The edge in that tone told her as much. Nivaradros met her eyes and silently asked if she wanted him to remain. Shaking her head, she gestured for him to leave with Crilyne and waited until the door closed behind them before turning to face the Mithane. “Yes?”
“Sit.”
Her hand went to a dagger at the word—it was the ice in his voice. “And if I refuse?”
The Mithane’s expression and tone melted. “Oh, Zimliya, I am not going to harm you. Please release the hilt of your dagger. I overlooked the fact that disapproval arms you for battle. Sit, please.”
He gestured to a chair and this time he kept his tone soft and expressed more of a request than a command. Still something about him felt off, and Z settled into the chair with care. Tapping her fingers on the armrest, she watched the Mithane pace the room for a couple of minutes before he settled into a chair across from her.
“You wear my ring, but you refuse to accept me.” The words were cutting, and Z was almost astonished to find her skin unblemished from them.
“It’s not that…” she began before grimacing as a brow rose and his eyes shaded deeper into the black. “Mithane…Evieck…” her throat closed on the last word and she knew it was the one he preferred to hear just once. “I don’t…”
“Trust.”
“That,” she agreed as he filled in the word.
But he wouldn't give her the point. “Baryaris. Nivaradros. Crilyne.” Three names of beings she either trusted or had trusted. And those names were an accusation.
“I trust you,” she whispered. “As the Mithane. As anything else…”
“As a friend?”
“Yes!” There was more emotion in that one word than she had planned on revealing. “As a friend. As a mage. As a seer. Even as a…healer.”
“But not as family?”
“My experiences with family members haven’t been the most positive,” she pointed out. “But yes, Mithane, I trust you even as that.”
“Then what is the
problem?”
Admissions were considered weaknesses even among the Alantaions and due to her immortal status, her inability to conform to those unspoken rules would weaken her. Not answering, however, would weaken her as well. “I do not want to be a second Shevieck.”
The Mithane actually laughed. It was an open, vastly relieved, and entertained laugh, but he sobered quickly and shook his head as he offered her a kind smile. “My dear, even if you forgot half of your knowledge, you could never be Shevieck.”
She smiled and inclined her head. “He is still lacking the majority of knowledge he should have by his age,” she conceded, but she continued to watch him uneasily. “Still…”
“Zimliya, I had hoped immortality would grant you the annoying characteristic the rest of us immortals share: a superior attitude that implies we are better than everyone else with whom we share the world. Unfortunately, you did not gain that outlook with your immortality, nor does it seem to have lessened your constant self-doubting. Honestly, Child…you are fine the way you are. I prefer you the way you are. Even if it means putting up with the damned Dragon.”
A chuckle escaped before she could stop it. “You are so hard on him—I know why,” she added before he could speak. “But he’s not…he never was…”
“You care for him. That is enough for me.”
“Mithane.”
His sigh was resigned. “Will you truly stay behind that title forever?”
“I’m still human,” she began. “I don’t like change…?”
His confusion was present on his face. “Please don’t clarify.” Holding up a hand, he tapped a finger from his other hand on the armrest of his chair. “Could you at least drop the title on occasion?”
“Evieck?”
“I would prefer it.”
“I’ll try…in the past I addressed you by your title to prove I felt comfortable in your presence. It was the ultimate sign of respect. I understand why you want me to drop it, but quite honestly, Evieck, I feel like I am insulting you by doing so.”
“You’re not.” The Alantaion ruler rose and offered her his hand, and when she accepted it he pulled her to her feet. “You are honoring me far more by dropping it,” he told her.
“If you say so,” she grumbled as he wrapped an arm cautiously over her shoulders. She fought the instinct to attack him and won, even managing to lean against him a minute later.
“I do,” he replied cheerfully. “Why don’t you tell me your plans for the immortal ruler you managed to trap within my walls knowing full well we do not enjoy each other’s company.”
The Mithane returned her to her wing once she had more than comforted him with her various plans to keep the Islierre from causing him any problems while the Ryelention was a ‘guest.’ The single plan that the Mithane openly approved was having Crilyne escort the Islierre around Arriandie. Z had teased him for half a second by suggesting Shevieck play escort to the Ryelention, but not only had the Mithane failed to see the humor, he had believed she was being serious which delayed her return to her wing by an hour.
“When will you be joining us?” the Mithane asked as he watched her doors open.
“I don’t make promises I can’t keep remember?” Z teased as she stood in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest. Leaning against said doorway, she tilted her head to the side when a cool silence was her only answer. “How about I’ll send word when I can?” she offered.
“I would prefer an actual date, but since you mean that, I may be moved to accept it.” The Mithane nodded at the Dragon who appeared behind her. “How do you believe the meeting will go, Nivaradros?”
“She shouldn’t have to add too many more Dragons to her slain list.”
“How many have you been forced to kill?” the Mithane wanted to know as he raised a brow over Nivaradros’s rather bland remark.
“Twelve.” As this was a sore spot, Z refused to elaborate. She forced herself to add the Dragon she had tried for years to keep off her list of Dragons she’d killed. Every time she had tried to dismiss that incident, she’d been sharply corrected by those around her who knew of the event.
The Mithane’s brows both rose. “Do I even want to know?”
“Five tried to kill me; seven tried to kill Nivaradros while I was present. I did give them all chances to back out. Multiple chances.”
“All the deaths were reviewed by the Dragon Council and Zimliya was cleared of any and all charges that could have been brought up.”
Clearly the Mithane didn’t study the Dragons laws. “It is illegal to kill a Dragon?” he inquired.
“In certain instances, yes. The laws are in place to preserve the race and promote the illusion of peace. Out of all of the thousands of deaths caused by Dragon-against-Dragon warfare though, only three cases have ever been ruled as a breach of the laws,” Nivaradros explained.
“And one of those instances involved you?”
Nivaradros snorted and looked at Z for a moment. She shrugged and the Dragon snorted again. “All of the cases involved me—before then we didn’t have such laws,” he told the Mithane flatly. “It was the first one that granted me the title of exile, and it was the last one that made it a priority for someone to kill me two thousand years ago.”
“They didn’t do a very good job at it.”
“Everyone they sent had this strange habit of dropping dead.”
Chapter 7
“Will you stop that?!” Z snapped at Nivaradros five hours following their departure from Arriandie. Beside her, Veilantras raised a golden brow, but said nothing. As she had no idea what was going on, Z wasn’t surprised by her silence. She was, however, impressed Veilantras was willing to remain ignorant. At the moment Z wished she could have that blessing.
Nivaradros had discovered that among the abilities his amulet granted him was the capability to hold private or public conversations with any and all Rangers. Unfortunately for her, the Dragon was ridiculously curious and willing to speak with the Rangers who were happy to return the favor. She hadn’t expected him to be this responsive to the Rangers, and from the way Daryien had reacted to Nivaradros, she hadn’t considered the Rangers would find the Dragon’s undisguised interest flattering.
Then again, most outsiders who received the ghost amulets—as they were called—were frightened of the connection the amulet provided with the rest of the Rangers and shied away from it. Nivaradros was eager to speak with anyone who would talk to him; small beings included. Which was a blessing since the small beings had about ten thousand questions and half of them were subjects that normally would have made Nivaradros curt.
The problem, however, was that Nivaradros wouldn’t shut up, and if she had hoped his possessiveness would keep certain things quiet, that hope was immediately shattered. Nivaradros glanced over at her and smiled slyly. “Embarrassed?”
“Yes,” she answered as she glanced at Veilantras. The female Dragon was agitated. “What’s wrong?”
“I smell blood,” the elder Dragon told them. “Fresh and still flowing. It’s about three miles up ahead.”
Nivaradros paused, but nodded a minute later. “She is correct,” he confirmed. “Are we heading that way?”
Surprised—expecting Nivaradros to argue against all delays—Z nodded. “If you do not think the Dragons will mind another delay.”
“We have Veilantras with us; it’s her job to smooth things over.”
“Thanks,” Veilantras muttered. She was still regarding Nivaradros with open confusion, and Z could tell she hated being excluded. Especially from something she didn’t understand. Cats had nothing on Dragons when it came to curiosity.
Z chuckled and felt her mood lighten for a few minutes as she turned from their deer trail through the deep snow to an unmarked path. “This way?” she asked the Dragons. Her senses were tuned down, and nothing could compare to a Dragon’s sense of smell. No other predator came close.
Nivaradros hesitated before pulling away from the Rangers with an
apology. Taking the lead without hesitation, he began to take them through the forest that stretched out before them. They had decided to stick to the forest for their journey; it would provide them cover from overhead eyes, and it was the quickest way to a coastline without flying. They made fairly good time in spite of the massive amounts of snow that had been dumped during the latest storm. Despite the fact Veilantras could fly them, and had offered, both Z and Nivaradros had declined. It would reveal too much to have Nivaradros flown into the Isle when he was supposed to have wings of his own. Granted, in Z’s mind it was going to be bad enough with them coming in on a ship. She was tempted to use a portal, but those were tricky to manage when it came to the Isle; too much magic in such a small area had caused problems with her portals in the past.
Eventually even her nose picked up the scent of blood, and she could tell there were predators in the area. Drawing Kyi’rinn, she moved forward as Nivaradros swore behind her. Entering the thickest part of the brush, she kept her sword at the ready, but found it wasn’t needed as she attempted to stamp a path through the snow that was occasionally as high as her hips.
“Nivaradros!” she cried out in horror as her mind registered what she was seeing. Sliding Kyi’rinn back into its sheath, she moved forward despite the brush that clung to her clothes and the damn white stuff that covered the ground. Reaching the side of the injured being, she checked him over for any sign of life.
Behind her Nivaradros and Veilantras cursed their way through the bushes to reach her. It was Nivaradros who both grasped the situation first and found his voice almost at once. “Dyslentio!”
“He’s alive,” Z told him as she nevertheless knelt beside the fallen Kryhista. Not only did Dyslentio show signs of injuries from swords and spears, but wildlife had been after him as well. His flanks sported deep bite marks, and his chest exhibited them as well. He had clearly fled to the thickest part of the forest in the hope few could follow, but with the cold and the snow it was obvious just how wounded he was; the snow stained with blood. But considering the state of Z’s clothing—and her arms and face—his logic had been sound.
