by Meagan Hurst
“Perhaps you should see if your immortality fixes your sleep problem,” the Dragon jested. “Or I could make the attempt to spell you into your slumber, maybe you need the rest.”
“Very few immortals have to sleep, Nivaradros, and I am not feeling tired.”
“Well you sound tired. You’re also very upset, Z, and I fail to see why.”
She whirled on him, and she wasn’t surprised to see the Dragon didn’t blink. “I. Am. An. Immortal. Of all the things I have never wanted, this one was at the top. I have to adjust to the fact that my vision is at least four times better than it ever was, my hearing seems to be twenty times sharper than it has ever been, I can taste what’s in the magic-cursed air, my balance and mobility have changed entirely, and the hells only know what else about me has changed!”
“You haven’t,” Nivaradros replied evenly without blinking. “You, personally, have not changed when it comes to who you are. Yes, there will be a lot of changes, but, Z, if you had died…” Green eyes closed, and Nivaradros shook his head.
“I know. It’s why I did this to myself,” Z told him bitterly. “But, Nivaradros, I was not meant to be an immortal.”
“Yes, you were. Believe me when I say you were. Of all of us born to immortality, you still were.” Nivaradros glanced at her room and sighed. “Other than your eyes, there are no other noticeable changes that should concern you.” Which meant there were likely other minor changes to her appearance, but she didn’t want to know them now—or ever, really.
“And my eyes?”
“Well, I have yet to see you happy.”
She turned away from him then, and felt her shoulders roll forward with her anger. “Please go away.”
“I will not. You cannot chase me from the room. Z, you are upset, and I am concerned. I wish to make sure there are no ill effects from this.”
She felt the magic he suddenly used and turned in time to see the soft glow of light illuminate the room for a moment before it faded. “That’s not going to help, Nivaradros.”
“Try it before you condemn it. It may help, Z; you are an immortal now.”
“Stop saying that!”
The Dragon fell silent, but she sensed his movement towards her and whirled. His hands moved to grab hers, but she was too fast and managed to jerk them away before he grabbed them. He simply tried again, and they played this game briefly before he feinted one attempt and succeeded with another. Holding her arms steadily, Nivaradros held her eyes with his.
“This is a gift, Zimliya. A wonderful gift that I have been wanting to see you take for some time. You will have to get over it. You are an immortal. It shows,” he added with a small smile. “And I will not have you loathe yourself for something that is less than you deserve. You should have been born immortal.” He released her and walked to the doors. “When you’re done feeling sorry for yourself, let me know.”
The doors slammed behind him, and Z gritted her teeth in annoyance. She’d suspected slamming them was impossible, so she knew just how much of a mood Nivaradros was in, and it didn’t help with hers. He had no idea what she was dealing with right now. All the thoughts, the worries, the regrets, the confusion—everything. She eyed the water he had enchanted, and slowly called the magic away without thought. She needed to do something familiar to get her mind off of things. Something active.
Pressing her lips together, Z moved over to her wardrobe and grabbed a fresh set of clothing at long last. Changing quickly, she only paused when she saw that her lightning scars hadn’t been affected by her new status, or any of her other scars. The relief she felt over seeing her old scars shouldn’t have been this powerful, but Z ended up grabbing one of her daggers and cutting the bottom half of her shirt off—leaving part of her lightning visible. Something about her was still the same, and she wanted it out in the open.
Heading out the doors quickly, Z struggled to keep from noticing her stride was longer, smoother, and almost effortless as she headed to her practice court with the intent to drive all the changes she was noticing from her mind.
“Ilentio, activate a level two hundred training session!” she called before she had even made it to the court. “Magic, traps, and combatants. Skill levels hidden and air threats, as well as underground ones.”
The magic in the room was thick enough to taste now that her senses had been apparently heightened as well. Z closed her eyes and ignored it as she felt the attack beginning to form. This was something she hadn’t been able to do properly for a while. She would start out at less than half of what she had been just to be safe, but since she was no longer in danger of dying or having an attack on the court she doubted she needed to take such precautions. She was proven right very quickly.
Everything was amplified from what it had been before. Z had worked for years to make herself as close to the immortals as she could in her fighting styles—often spending twelve or more hours of every day in constant training to improve her balance, coordination, strike speed, stamina, ability, and silence in the beginning. That was something all the top Warrior Rangers did, although she was aware her inborn talents had greatly aided her.
She had been good. Good enough that she hadn’t been beaten by any one of the immortals she had sparred with or been attacked by for six years, and good enough that only the very young in the ranks of the different armies had even been foolish enough to call her ‘the human.’ Now all that work was useless, and Z understood why the immortals had found her training to seem so insane.
They were bloody born with everything handed to them. Oh, she knew it—had always known it—but it was one thing to know, and another entirely to feel. Her strikes were faster. It took her no time at all to drop fifteen human opponents, minutes more to counter the magical attacks, and little more time to finish everything else off. It was easy. Everything she had had to focus on before no longer mattered. Her balance was a given no matter her position or the terrain. Her coordination was a hundredfold more together than it had been at the height of her fighting. Her speed and strength had naturally improved as well, which brought her to a whole new level of overall ability. And perhaps worst of all, her movements were more silent than the sound of a fly walking across the table.
Her senses were heightened to a point she despised them. She could hear, sense, see, and feel things at a level that horrified her, and the direct result was she fell back on old habits; she threw herself into training.
“Ilentio, keep raising levels until I say!” she called before launching herself into attack after attack and battle after battle. She had no idea how much time had passed because everything became a blur and the longer she fought the more she noticed the changes she had unknowingly done to herself. It drove her to continue harder, and Z was barely aware of her surroundings until a furious voice broke through her concentration.
“Ilentio, cease!”
To her astonishment and anger, the magical drill master reacted immediately to the order, and Z’s opponents vanished. What she was left with was a very angry Dragon, but she was certain her mood topped his.
“Go away, Nivaradros!” she snarled at him.
“It has been three days!” the Dragon snapped back. “You have not paused in your insanity to take care of yourself, and I am certain that—immortal or not—you still need to eat and drink.” He leapt the fence to the practice court with ease and strolled towards her with enough danger in his step that it snatched some of her anger away from her.
What was left was more anger, fear, hunger, and surprise at the fact she was tired. The surprise gave way to dismay, but the Dragon was already at her side by that time. She attempted to strike him, and he caught her arm with ease.
“Let. Go.”
“No. I realize you are going through an identity crisis, but I have a suggestion for you because you are needed on the battlefield.”
“You’re not letting me go.”
“No, I am not. Not in this state you are in now. But I will go and fight in your
stead.”
“And where will I be?”
“Visiting Midestol.”
She stared at him. Just stared. Certain she could not have heard him right, she continued to stare at him, but the more her mind turned over the words, she knew hadn’t misunderstood. “How did you come up with that idea?”
“He wants to see you,” Nivaradros pointed out as he released her. “And right now, I don’t trust you to fight—you’re too upset. But visiting Midestol would cause a distraction on his side, and I am certain he would find your immortality something both impressive and interesting. If his attention is away from his battles, perhaps the others and I can manage to regain one kingdom back to use as a rally point.”
“How many kingdoms have problems?”
“Only the Dragons, the Rangers, and the Syallibions are unaffected. Zyrhis has only managed to hang on to his kingdom because he has an influx of infuriated ousted rulers and heirs who are perfectly happy to kill anything that breathes the wrong way in his kingdom. If this show of unity was for any other reason, I believe you would be delighted over it.”
She cursed under her breath—cursed even quieter when she realized what she thought was under her breath was quite loud. No damn wonder the immortals were always well aware of what most mortals said in their presence.
“Where are the majority of the rulers being kept? Are they truly at Istuion?”
“Yes. Zyrhis has managed to convince most of the heirs—who convinced their parents—to come to his castle for refuge. He is not popular with some of his people, but, right now, he has more allies than his enemies feel safe countering, so he is relatively safe. If I go,” the Dragon added quickly, “I will place him under my protection.”
He was trying to bribe her. Z exhaled sharply and then flinched as she inhaled. Three days or not, she wasn’t used to the air yet. Closing her eyes, she struggled to not attack the Dragon for his idea, but it was almost impossible not to. She didn’t want to see Midestol. She certainly didn’t want to see him now that she felt out of place, like a thief of her own body. She glanced up at the Dragon and sighed softly before opening her mouth to protest.
He put a finger against her lips—she was tempted to bite it. “Think on it first,” he told her curtly before offering her his arm. “And I think you are past needing a bath. Come on, Z. I am fairly certain Ilentio was running out of ideas to throw at you.”
A cold smile touched the corners of her lips at his words, but she did give a stiff nod before accepting his offered arm. She led him over to the side of the arena so she could return everything to its rightful place, and Nivaradros helped her pick up the broken wooden and metal weapons she had discarded during her frantic battles. He said nothing throughout the whole ordeal, and she was grateful for his silence. She didn’t need him pestering her right now. She could barely stand her own thoughts.
When they finished picking up the area, Nivaradros led her not back to her rooms, but past them and through the hall that portrayed the meadow leading into the forest before he stopped at a room she had never entered before. The doors vanished at Nivaradros’s touch and he led her inside in silence. It was pitch black in the room, but she found her eyes quickly adjusted. What she thought she saw frightened her, and she started to back up slightly.
“Zimliya,” the Dragon sighed. “It is safe here. Please allow me to at least attempt to harm you before you try to bolt.” He kept the room dark, probably knowing she would leave if he didn’t.
“I … I don’t want to know,” she managed to sputter suddenly, quickly. “Really, Nivaradros, I would rather wait.”
She heard a soft chuckle and the doors behind her opened. She made a hasty retreat and didn’t stop until she reached her rooms. Closing the doors behind her, she leaned against them so the cool feel of stone could calm her down. The magic within the stone was an annoyance, but she managed to ignore it with a little work. It had taken two days to regain her ability to ignore magic like she wanted, but it was well worth it considering her current residence; the Dragon had magic everywhere.
Shaking herself mentally, she decided to follow the Dragon’s advice from before. Stripping, she slipped into the bath she had resigned herself to today and closed her eyes. They opened and a dagger was at the Dragon’s throat when he moved to join her. She had heard his approach this time—her newly improved hearing had been more than up to the task—but she had waited until now to let him know she had sensed him. The Dragon ignored her dagger and still joined her. Like last time, he was still fully clothed, and he didn’t seem at all put off by the prospect of getting out in wet, heavy clothing. It was, Z decided, annoying.
“I believe I warned you that it was highly probable you would not like that,” the Dragon broke the conversation with ease despite the ice that should have been forming on everything around them.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she told him softly. “I didn’t expect … that.”
The Dragon’s smile was amused. “And you don’t even know half of it.” Before she could reply, Nivaradros leaned over and kissed her forehead. She froze, spun around behind her, grabbed a dagger, and stabbed the Dragon in the chest. “You haven’t done that in a while,” the Dragon remarked offhandedly.
He easily pulled the dagger out of his chest without so much as a blink—which, as it hadn’t been anywhere near any of his hearts, wasn’t unexpected. He handed her back the dagger and paid no attention to the black blood that was leaking steadily from his chest and into the water. “Zyrhis asked me to remind you he hasn’t forgotten about handing you the reins to his kingdom for a little while.” A smug look touched the Dragon’s features as he watched her.
“You like the idea,” Z accused.
“I do. Honestly, Z, the best way for you to get some of the relationships between kingdoms tighter is to actively run at least one of them.”
She snorted. “I don’t mind advising to a point, but running a kingdom, Nivaradros? That is a horrible idea. I would rather have you run them.”
“I am fairly certain you would change your mind after a few days, but I am touched.” The Dragon once again decided to leave the bath by leaping from it in his fluid motion, but by the time he was standing again his clothing was dry—other than the dark stain of blood that was still growing across his chest. “Come, Z, you really look tired. Try sleeping once, maybe you just need to kick the last of your mortality out the door—so to speak.”
She glared up at him, and then decided since she was stuck with immortality she might as well use it. She copied his way out of the water just to see if she could. She managed with ease, but she hadn’t bothered to summon air or fire, so she, on the other hand, did drip. Nivaradros chuckled softly and threw a towel at her. She glanced at the water while she caught the towel and managed not to start when she noticed it was already clear once more—the Dragon’s blood was nowhere to be seen. She glanced over at him in surprise only to find he was already watching for her reaction.
“Nice, isn’t it?” he whispered before walking over to the chair that he had long ago decided was his. “I’ll stay here on the off chance something happens.”
“Like I self-combust in my sleep?”
“No, on the off chance we’re needed immediately.” She heard the Dragon cringe. “Or Veilantras decides to come here again; she’s been threatening for days.” She glanced over at him and frowned at the black stain on his clothing—she couldn’t tell if it had stopped growing yet or not.
“I still think you could have told her, Nivaradros. It’s not like I wasn’t dying anyways.”
“Easy for you to say—I would have been the one fighting those who decided to come kill you sooner.”
Laughing as she headed to the bed she was almost certain had become unnecessary and useless, Z glanced over at the Dragon. “I would have been willing to help.”
He snorted as she slid under the covers. “Help by dying sooner? I’m happy with the way things worked out, Z, I just know there will be f
allout with Veilantras.” His smile was slightly mischievous. “Besides, it’s not like this will be the first time I disappointed her or lied to her.” The lights dimmed to darkness that only a part of a mountain that never saw light could provide. Yet it didn’t change much on her end—she could still see far better than she wanted. Night vision was another added bonus she despised.
The Dragon was watching her without concern. “You should have just let me die,” she told him again.
“Now, that wouldn’t have been any fun at all. Besides, don’t try to convince me you’re not useful. You are needed here and you know it—you would have never agreed to become an immortal if we would have survived without you.”
Since this was entirely true she didn’t bother to comment. “I’m not going to be able to deliver what you want, Dragonlord,” she told him finally.
His answer caught her off guard. “Perhaps not, but unless you do something utterly foolish and get yourself killed, I now have no time limit to worry about. You may change your mind in the end. Hush,” he added before she could argue. “Zimliya, you could. If you were placed into a position much like you faced when it came to your immortality, you would—without hesitation—do what you claim now you would never do.”
She hated when he was right. “Promise me you won’t arrange for that choice to be forced?”
Silence. Cold, cutting, furious silence. Finally, she heard the Dragon move, and she turned her attention to watch his progress. Because she saw him coming, she managed not to flinch when he picked up her hand.
“You are not a pet. So, no, I will not arrange for things to occur that will force you to play your power in a way you do not desire to use it. I prefer you make your own choices—your anger afterwards provides minor amusement.”
She hit him because she could, as in he didn’t even attempt to block it. “Not amused.”
