Dragon Chameleon: Episodes 9-12

by Wilson, Sarah K. L.

  “Is that a good thing?”

  “Zin said this would happen.”

  “She can be remarkably perceptive.”

  He grabbed my shoulders pulling me into an awkward hug.

  “Ummm.” I patted him awkwardly. I didn’t like hugs.

  “We will be brothers! Both married to the sisters Zin and Zyla!”

  Skies and stars!

  “Whoa! Easy there. Is this your way of saying that you’re getting married?”

  I’d never said anything about marrying Zyla. He was really rushing things if he’d gone and given his word to Zin. We were all in the middle of a war and none of us might survive it. Didn’t he see that? Didn’t he realize –

  His words cut off my thoughts.

  “We were married before I flew away with Hubric. We married in the caves. It was a beautiful celebration. It was our one sadness that you and Zyla could not be there.”

  I felt like someone had hit me with a club. Married? Bataar and Zin?

  “But you only just met!” I gasped. “You hardly know each other.”

  “It was prophesied.”

  “You can read those prophecies any way you want!” My voice was getting too loud, but I didn’t seem to have any control over it.

  “Not this one.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “I’m not the one who speaks to his own shadow in his sleep,” Bataar replied with a smug smile.

  Well, he had me there.

  “Let’s get some sleep,” I said, irritably.

  “There is only one blanket.”

  I lay down on the cold cage floor and turned my back to him. “Consider it a wedding present.”

  I had things to think about and I couldn’t be distracted by thoughts of innocent Zin marrying the least fun man in the world just because she thought it had been prophesied. But I also couldn’t shake the feeling that Bataar might be right. That the key to this whole situation might be to open up that doorway and see if I could reconstruct the World of Legends somehow and send the souls of the dead from the bodies of these golems to rest there. I’d heard that the dead could move on from the World of Legends if they wanted to. I just wanted to give them that chance – and coincidently, to make the golems useless shells so they couldn’t swallow the Dominion.

  It was a lot to think about when your head was aching and the guy with the blanket was saying annoying things about prophecies and marriage.

  Marriage!

  The fool.

  Chapter Two

  When I woke again, the army was waking, too. Tents fell to the ground as they were dismantled and rolled away. A soldier in a rumpled uniform with mud streaking his boots brought us two bowls of porridge and a fresh waterskin.

  “No time for niceties this morning, boys,” he said as he handed it to us. “Eat fast. We need to march. Maybe we can get out of these mountains sooner. I’ve never seen such pathetic mountains. They’re nothing like the majestic Ko’keewin Mountains of home.”

  We were in a valley between mountain ranges where the main road meandered between their curves and bends. This would be the perfect place for the Dominion to attack. They could close the bottleneck of the pass and sweep down from the mountains on dragon-back. Wishful thinking. No one knew they were there but me and Bataar – and of course the enemy army.

  I felt like there was a ticking clock in my mind speeding up with every minute that passed, as if it were counting down every second that I wasted while the enemy rushed across my land like a tidal wave.

  I clenched my jaw and shoveled the porridge in, counting numbers of troops and watching to see how responsive they were to commands, who led them, where the golems were positioned, and trying to think about what all of it meant.

  “And you must be Tor Winespring,” a tinkling voice said from behind the cage.

  I spun, standing up from where I had been crouching on a three-legged stool. From my place in the cart, I stood so that my feet were waist level with anyone on the ground. It gave me a very full view of the tall brunette woman addressing me. She was at least ten years older than me, though it was hard to judge that for certain.

  I almost laughed at her attire – a rosebud pink dress billowed in gauzy waves in the breeze while white rabbit fur was wrapped in a warm collar and stole around her neck and shoulders, barely enough to shield from the wind, especially considering the low cut of the dress.

  “And you are Ambrosia. A Magika with plans,” I said.

  She laughed. “You’ve heard of me.”

  Now, why would she look so pleased? I noticed that she did not speak to Bataar or even seem to notice him. He quietly took my empty bowl from my hands, murmuring to the soldier who was collecting them on the other side of the cage.

  “I suspect anyone who is near you has heard of you, Ambrosia.”

  “Tell me, Tor, were you trained by Magikas?”

  My eyebrows shot up. What was she getting at?

  “Well,” my mimic said, springing to life and peering through the bars with a look of delighted interest, “I think the pretty lady noticed that you can make those golems do as you say. And that’s Magika territory.”

  I was so used to my shadow-self popping up whenever he felt like it, that I didn’t notice Ambrosia’s shock at first.

  “And what,” she asked, “is that?”

  “A mimic,” I said. “A gift from the dead.”

  Her eyes were wide, but rather than shock or even maliciousness, they seemed wide with delight.

  “I’ve never seen a magic like yours before, Tor. And I don’t feel you pulling power from the nearby well, or even from the plants and animals nearby. Where does your magic come from?”

  “I have no magic,” I said coolly. There let her chew on that for a while. I had the sneaking suspicion that a woman like Ambrosia wasn’t just dangerous, she was deadly, but like most people of high intelligence, there was nothing so good at distracting them as a puzzle. When a person thinks they are smarter than everyone around them, it bothers them to no end if there is something that they can’t figure out.

  “I think that you and I should spend some time together, Tor Winespring,” she said with what I thought was meant to be a seductive smile. Anyone fool enough to fall for that probably played with full-grown vipers for fun, too. I knew that charming look. I used it all the time. And just like when I did it, she didn’t mean it at all. She simply wanted to disarm me so she could maneuver me as she willed. Time to throw her off balance again.

  “Do we have to?” the mimic asked. “I think I’d like it if she made me her plaything.”

  “Shut up,” I told him and then turned to where her smile had turned into a predatory grin.

  “I heard rumors that you were already spending time with someone – Eventen, I heard. He claimed to have you spun around his pinky finger and all it took was telling you that he approved of your plans for the non-Magika populations.”

  Her grin disappeared, her cheeks flushing. “We aren’t done here. I will be back to deal with you.”

  “Looking forward to it,” I called to her back as she stormed off in her impractical heeled boots.

  “Are you entirely sane?” Bataar asked me quietly as she strode away.

  “Probably not,” I muttered.

  “Only, sometimes you talk to people who aren’t there.”

  “What can I say? I’m just a really friendly kind of guy.”

  “And I have a feeling that you don’t want to get on that woman’s bad side,” he said with a frown.

  “I think being on her good side might be just as dangerous,” I said quietly. “It would be best for us if we could find a way out of this cage before she returns.”

  “I agree.”

  He didn’t sound at all hopeful. And neither was I. The clock was ticking.

  Chapter Three

  Moving a large army – or was it two armies, one of men and one of golems? – was not as quick or easy as flying on Saboraak was. Awkward, crowded and irritabl
e, the mass of men and metal squeezed along the narrow mountain road. Often, the carts or golems became mired in mud as winter lost its grip on the earth and the snows melted away into soft earth. Frustrated curses and the grunts of men at work filled the air. It seemed as if we hardly began to move before our caged cart was mired in thick clay ruts.

  “Heave! Heave!” the men said, pulling ropes and trying to maneuver the cart out of the mud while a Magika directed the golems that pulled us. I could feel their spark calling to me. And it wasn’t the only thing I could feel that seemed to be alive. The cart with the open doorway was right behind us, stuck as often as our cart was. We hardly seemed to begin to roll again before we were stuck all over again. And every time we were stuck, my gaze drifted to the doorway as it pulsed its call to me.

  By noon, we’d only driven twenty cart lengths. By dark, twenty more.

  “Just let us walk,” I told the soldiers nearby.

  “Shut it,” was the reply.

  “If we walk, things will go a lot faster. I’m not sure if you noticed, but we both have functioning legs. You could even just let us out while you pull the cart out of the rut. Wouldn’t that help if there was less load on it?”

  The sergeant scowled at his men who were nodding in agreement and then spat in my direction, though the spittle landed short. He was too tired to bother trying again.

  “I couldn’t let you out of there if I wanted to, fool. That’s no ordinary lock.”

  I strolled over to it, trying to look nonchalant. Just a man engaged in a friendly interchange. In the fading dusk, the lock glowed slightly. When I touched it, it sang to me like the golems.

  “They used to keep oosquer in that cage, remember?” the Sergeant said.

  “Oosquer flame when they get excited. They’re like big fireballs. They melt normal metal,” Bataar said. “This cage is likely made of heart-metal.”

  “Is that like skysteel?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “How would I know? I’m no Magika. But it’s magical. And so is that lock. Nothing but magic will open it.”

  “Indeed,” a resonant voice said from behind us. I cursed internally. I hadn’t heard him creeping up on me.

  I whirled, my best grin on my face, ready to take on the enemy.

  Apeq A’kona was not alone. He strutted forward, sleeves rolled up to expose his marked arms in the rising moon. Considering the coolness of the evening, he was probably just showing off. A smile spread across his face.

  Beside him, Ambrosia walked in a cloud of filmy white dress and black furs. When had she changed her clothes in the middle of all this chaos? And who wore white in knee-high mud?

  “I see you’ve cooled off,” I said to Apeq, putting a hand on my hip. “Last I saw you, things were really heating up.”

  There weren’t any marks on him from the fire. Though I noticed that he stood in a way that made it look like he was looking over his shoulder in between talking to me. He hadn’t walked away with his own mimic, had he?

  “He should be so lucky,” my mimic opined.

  He could just shut up and let me handle this. I saw Ambrosia watching him with hungry eyes. Skies and stars!

  “You left me to burn to death. You didn’t expect me to escape.”

  “Let me guess, when you arrived in hell, they didn’t even want you,” I was trying to stay calm, but I recognized what Apeq was carrying. He held in his hand one of those lightning rods the Magikas used to fight. And in his other hand, he had a length of metal rope that made my skin crawl. He wasn’t here on a social call.

  “You men can leave now,” Apeq said to the soldiers. “Go set up your camp. We’re stopping here for the night.”

  “Calling it quits like usual?” I couldn’t help myself. He brought all the worst things bubbling out of my lips.

  “We’re making great progress,” Apeq said, unworried. “It takes time to move an army into position to attack a city. But it’s not like we’re in any rush. The Dominion will fall, piece by piece and we will raze it to the ground. Ko’Torenth will take over this land and take the dragons for their magic. In times of want, when resources are small, we need to reduce populations to survive. Cut the fat.”

  “So, this is like a Ko’Torenth weight-loss plan?” I asked, but I was worried. Ambrosia was opening the lock.

  “You stay here,” she said to Bataar.

  I hadn’t realized that he’d moved to stand behind me, standing with fists clenched at his sides like he was ready to fight. He silently looked to me and I nodded. Whatever they had planned for me couldn’t be good. Best not to drag him into it, too.

  “If you try to attack us or escape, we’ll kill him,” Apeq said, pointing the rod at Bataar.

  I rolled my eyes. “Do they teach you these lines when you sign up to be evil? Everyone uses the same old tired threats again and again.”

  It was Ambrosia who replied as she opened the door, waving me out with a curt gesture. “They teach us that magic doesn’t come from nowhere. Nothing comes from nothing. And in a world where magic is fading, any chance to find a new source of magic should be explored.”

  “Then maybe you should be doing that instead of slaughtering people. Just a suggestion,” I said as she relocked the cage.

  “I’ve always believed in efficiency,” Ambrosia said, taking the metal rope from Apeq and wrapping it around my wrists. “I plan to do both things at once.”

  “And you’re going to tie a knot in a metal rope, too?”

  “That, we’ll do with magic,” she said, standing so close that I could feel her breath on my face as she placed her hand gently on mine and I felt the metal tighten around my wrists. She was probably trying to be seductive or charming. She only seemed ridiculous.

  They both did. This whole situation did.

  Only days ago, I’d watched courageous men fight and die for the lives of others and these fools were strutting around a muddy landscape in fancy clothes talking about magic and trying to toy with me. They seemed so meaningless in comparison, like children playing at life.

  As they led me away from the cart, holding me with bonds of magic, it felt like they were leading someone else. My mind was on other things.

  Bataar might be right about the souls in the golems and he might be right about the World of Legends and if he was, then that should be what concerned me because these childish fools had thousands of souls held prisoner in metal cages and forced to do unthinkable things when they should be free.

  And someone needed to be adult enough to stop these two before they broke the world.

  Chapter Four

  They herded me up the rocky mountainside to a boulder as large as I was.

  “Stand against the boulder,” Apeq said.

  The moon was rising slowly over the camp and the tattooed designs swirling around his arms were bright in the light. I smirked at them, knowing full well that my face was showing a crown. I could see where this was headed. This was the part where they brutally tortured me while asking me questions, I couldn’t answer like ‘Where did you get your magic from’ and ‘Tell us where!’ Louder and more insistent with every foiled attempt.

  “And that doesn’t worry you?” my mimic asked? “The last time we were in this situation, I was the one who was confident, and you were squirming like a little worm.”

  “Maybe this time you’ll be the one to squirm,” I said, not realizing I’d said it out loud until Apeq flinched.

  “I don’t know how you think you’re going to get out of this, imposter, but I should warn you that what I’m carrying isn’t one of the fire rods I had before. This is a lightning rod and with the magic imbued in it, I can strike you with bolt after bolt of lightning until you’re sobbing on the ground.”

  “Yeah, it’s hard to find entertainment in the mountains,” I quipped, trying to keep the shake out of my voice. “You have to make do with acting like a creep instead.”

  “Shut up,” Apeq said. But this time, when he stalked toward me, I could feel the markings o
n his arms pulling me just like the lock and just like the doorway, as if they were all interconnected. I could even feel the metal rope coiling around my wrists and fastened to the rock by Ambrosia with threads of magic and the lightning rod in Apeq’s hands.

  “You should look into hiring a guy to help with your army’s creativity,” I said. “I mean, this is almost exactly what Shabren did to me before I melted his mind to jelly. Do you guys have trouble coming up with original ideas?”

  “Hey!” my mimic said. “I melted his brain to jelly. I told you not to mess with his shadow.”

  “Only Magikas are supposed to have shadows,” Ambrosia said. Apeq looked surprised and I smirked at him again. I liked digging at him. The angrier he got, the sooner he would get this over with. And he couldn’t see the mimic, for some reason. Which was really weird. Ambrosia could see it. Shabren had been able to see it. But for Apeq he was a blind spot.

  “Maybe that was his curse in the World of Legends. Maybe he was cursed with not being able to see the spiritual world,” my mimic said.

  Now that was as good of a theory as any. Even Ambrosia had her head tilted to the side as if she were considering the mimic’s words.

  In the ghostly light, I could make out silvery scars on Apeq’s face, barely visible.

  “How did you keep your skin from melting off in the World of Legends?” I asked him, genuinely curious.

  “You forget who you are speaking to,” Apeq said, anger in his voice. He raised the lightning rod and I could see the pattern rolling out all around us. I could see him torturing me and killing me and I could feel the rod he’d use to do it like it was a part of the pattern. He’d lose his temper and far from that making things better for me, it would mean he would kill me. I shivered.

  I could feel the tattoos around his arms gripping them, holding them. I could feel them as if they were my own. With a flick of my thoughts, I forced them downward.

  My eyes widened slightly when his arms dropped. With another flick, I willed his arms still and they stilled.

  Sweat broke out on his brow, his jaw bulging with tension. He must be fighting the command. But those tattoos responded to me and I had the power to stop him.