Dragon Chameleon: Episodes 5-8 (Dragon Chameleon Omnibuses Book 2)

by Sarah K. L. Wilson

  I was still slashing and thrusting, ignoring my fears. I must not fail. The Dominion was counting on me. Dozens of flying creations swarmed us until all I saw was black figures and gaping mouths. And then the ripping began. First my leathers, then my skin, then my very life – ripped to a thousand pieces.

  I gasped as the arches came back into view. The feeling of tentacles crawling through me seemed to choke the breath out of me. I could barely catch it anyway. I’d felt that death, felt the terrible disappointment of failure as I died, felt my dragon heave and gasp and die. I was shaken within. I was broken down. I could barely grasp that it hadn’t been real. That was impossible. If that wasn’t real, then what was real at all?

  Across from me, Apeq was choking on his own horror, his mouth open and eyes shut as he gasped for air.

  I turned to the side, meaning to be sick, when another vision took hold of me. I was married to Zin. I loved her dearly. Our home was a happy one of good smells and clean clothes and warm fires. We were raising children on a small farm, their little faces like tiny versions of hers, their huge eyes as golden as hers. And then the golems came in the night, snatching Zin and my children from me and shredding their fragile bodies.

  This time I was sick. The veil that had shrouded me only making the mess worse.

  I shook so hard that my wrists and ankles rattled in the loose manacles. I was still that Tor. And the Tor who died fighting golems. And the Tor who died defending his city. And this Tor who was almost certain to die right now. I was all of them and none of them.

  The tentacles squeezed, and I watched Saboraak die in agony and then followed her into death, a black cough shaking me apart.

  They squeezed again and I watched my mother live and die and live again. I was married to Zyla. I was married to Zin. I had children. I didn’t have children. I fought as a soldier. I died as a spy. I rotted in prison as a thief.

  I tried not to remember the next vision, or the next, or the next. Each one a life that felt real as I lived it from beginning to end. Each one sparked by the tentacles.

  I hated them. I wanted them out of my mind. I needed them out!

  Out! Out! Get out!

  And then a familiar voice sounded in my mind, like a bucket of spring water thrown over my head, like the sun dawning after the worst of nights.

  Tor?

  My eyes shot open and I coughed, gasping in a real breath for the first time in what felt like forever.

  Tor? Are you okay?

  Saboraak!

  She was alive!

  Chapter Eleven

  I COULD STILL FEEL her thoughts echoing through me – still feel the way that they pushed the tentacles back.

  I only have moments. Come to us. We are through the Door of Heavens.

  Which one?

  Any one. Hurry.

  I could feel her slipping away and the tentacles clawing back when, at the same moment, Apeq began to scream. The Ko on his arms crinkled, shriveled and fell to the ground leaving angry red skin where they had been. Blood dripped from them to the floor below.

  The manacles released him and with a cry, he fell to the ground.

  I felt the manacles release me and my breath whooshed out as I fell to the stone platform, barely managing to get my arms and legs into position to land without injury. I hissed as one of my wrists sent a flare of pain up into my forearm. Maybe my position wasn’t all that good after all.

  I glanced toward the crowd, but I’d lost my view of Zyla and Zin. Please be okay, girls! Please don’t do anything dumb. Because making yourself the center of attention during a succession war wasn’t dumb at all, right Tor? I was more a fool than anyone. I felt it even worse now that I knew who I could have been – what I could have been. I could have been a lot of things. And almost all of them were better than who I was.

  But Saboraak was okay. I needed to remember that. And Hubric and Kyrowat would be fine if I could just get to them in time. And Zyla and Zin –

  Rough hands gripped the front of my coat, wrenching me to my feet. I hung in their grip, dizzy and wobbly like a newly born kitten. I was new-born. Born again in this world. Born with a new understanding of what it meant to live.

  The light flaring over the arches was gone.

  “He is marked,” a voice called out loudly and I shivered.

  Of course, I was marked. I’d never be the same. I was scarred by this for life.

  Someone was tending Apeq’s arms, low whispers passing between the two of them as they bound the wounds on his arm.

  I thought that, perhaps, I had won. It didn’t feel like a win. Not with the crowd silent. Not with the leaders whispering so furiously with Apeq. There was a tension in every face. Their eyes lingered on me like they couldn’t look away, but there wasn’t a happy face in the crowd. There wasn’t a single cheer or salute.

  The man who had pulled me to my feet pulled the veil from my face and head, tossing it aside. Relief filled me as the vomit-soaked scarf left my face, but it was quickly replaced by nervous fear.

  They were not supposed to see my face.

  There was a sound around us of indrawn breath and a low laugh from where Apeq stood shakily on his side of the platform.

  Uh oh.

  His grin, as his gaze shifted to me, was malevolent.

  “It is with deep sadness,” he said as he turned to the people, his voice as loud as he could project it. “That I proclaim my opponent to be an imposter.”

  Murmurs rose in the crowd like bubbles in a swamp.

  “He is not Bataar Bayanen, son of Mynaar, son of Lataar, Chief of the Stone Basin Kav’ai as he claimed. Our ancestors may have marked him, but they did not know who they were marking. They did not know he was a false claimant.”

  The murmurs grew louder.

  “And since he is false, his marks are false.”

  The murmurs sounded like agreement. I tensed. They were definitely agreement. All eyes had turned to Apeq.

  “I appeal to the Exalted Houses,” Apeq said, hands flung open, droplets of blood scattering across the skim of drifting snow on the stone platform. “Judge for us what the Seat could not because of this deception! Will you follow this imposter, or will you follow me? Will you be fools mocked by his trickery, or choose to punish him for it? I will lead you to victory and glory. He can offer you nothing but empty lies. Choose today who you will follow.”

  Was he kidding?

  “You can’t be serious,” I said, loudly. “The Ko peeled from your arms like it was shrinking from your lies. Whatever happened here, it doesn’t give you the right to take over this country!”

  Apeq laughed. “I am Apeq A’kona of the House of Flames. I need no Ko to lead my house. I certainly do not need your fakery. Tell me, boy, how have you manufactured your marks? We know they are not real.”

  What was he talking about? The Ko were still on my arms. They hadn’t changed at all.

  I looked down at them.

  “Not the marks on your arms. The marks on your face,” Apeq said, a look of disdain on his face.

  I gasped. My face? It had marked my face? Well, that was just great. Thank you for that, arches. Just when I thought they couldn’t violate me anymore, they found one more way to do it!

  There was a hushing sound as the elders raised their hands from around the Ko’tor’kaen. Above us, something whooshed on the sky. I looked up to see two silhouettes swoop past the moon, crossing each other’s paths. What was up there?

  Those were not dragons.

  The Exalted Houses spoke as one, their hands still raised.

  “The Seat of Judgment has spoken.

  I sagged with relief. I would live to fight another day. I saw Zin in the crowd, slipping forward through the still figures, moving toward the arm-like bridges as if she was planning to come to me. Hold on, Zin! I’d be free soon. They were granting me freedom.

  The Exalted looked at each other, as if conferring by looks alone and then one of them spoke loudly so that it was all could hear.
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  “When the time has come, and the shadows grow long, you will know it.

  When the tanager cries for change and the flame responds, you will sit.

  Together you will decide the fate of your children and grandchildren.

  But have a care. Smoke lies in wait for the fates of men.

  Do not be blinded. Do not be deceived,” she paused from her chant and then spoke clearly. “These are the words of Ver’ko, the Wise One from the time when we dwelled on flat ground. The boy bears the smoke Ko. I will respect her words. I will not be blinded.”

  “House Tanager will not be deceived,” one of the Tanager Exalted called out. “No false crown will blind our eyes.”

  Uh oh. The votes were against me. Tanager motioned and a pair of guards with drawn swords crossed the bridge and trotted to my side, holding their sword points under my chin. I raised my hands in surrender. No point giving them an excuse to slit my throat. They looked twitchy and one false move could spell my death. I would have backed up, but there was nowhere to go. Behind me was nothing but a drop off the edge of the platform.

  “House Ye’kut has also not been deceived. But he may live and lead us yet.”

  That was more promising. The sword points lowered slightly, still threatening, but not as likely to suddenly give me that close shave I’d been dying to try.

  The Exalted who had quoted her Wise One smiled. “Yes. With a leap of faith.”

  Sure. I could have faith. I could work with that.

  The guards smiled. That couldn’t be good. They stepped forward and I took a wobbling step back, my heel hitting the rim of the platform.

  “If you wish to live, you must prove you are chosen by the ancestors, imposter! Leap from this platform and if you live, we will spare you.”

  Sure. Like I’d do that. I could see how that was a foolproof plan for them. They got rid of me one way or another.

  The shape darted across the moon again, this time taking longer to cross the silver light. I looked up at it, swallowing. If only it were a dragon. If only it was there to catch me when I fell – but the only dragon who would do that was Saboraak, and she was stuck somehow behind the doorway.

  “But before that, we must have your promise, House A’kona,” the Exalted woman said. “Do you have the strength to defend us? Will you be able to lead this land in power?”

  At least no one was forcing me to leap off the platform. Not yet, at least.

  “I had planned to wait to reveal to you what I have accomplished,” Apeq’s voice boomed. “But now seems to be the perfect time to call my allies forward.”

  He motioned and Shabren and Karema pushed through the guards at the end of the bridges. I gasped as they cleared the crowd and came into view.

  Karema pushed Zyla in front of her and judging by the tight look on Zyla’s face, she was being held somehow by the other woman. I tried to look for Zin, but the guards shoved their sword points closer to my exposed neck. This time, I didn’t dare swallow. I almost didn’t dare to breathe.

  It wasn’t until Karema stepped off the bridge with Zyla and moved to stand beside Apeq that I realized why Shabren was grinning so widely. He had Zin by the scruff of her neck in one powerful hand and the tiny book of prophecies in the other.

  Chapter Twelve

  “THESE MAGIKAS,” APEQ said proudly, “have brought us three things of value. And thanks to their help, we now have the resources that we need to overrun our enemies to the south and finally claim their dragons as our own. With the dragons to fuel the magical devices I am building, we will be a nation unparalleled in strength.”

  “A strong claim,” the Exalted of House Ye’kut said, “but it is only a claim. Why should we choose you over the boy marked by our ancestors and the Seat of Judgment? What are these other two advantages?”

  “I welcome your critique, House Ye’kut,” Apeq said with an oily smile. “I welcome it because it is easy to answer. The Magikas bring with them a strange tool.”

  Apeq motioned to Shabren who reached into his pocket and threw a handful of grey dirt across the floor.

  “We have our own dirt,” Ye’kut said dryly.

  “This comes from the Kav’ai. They have been holding out on us. But these Magikas found a cave in which they were storing this, close to our southern border.”

  There had been strange grey dirt in barrels at Shabren’s camp. I remembered that now. They had been in the tent Bataar had lit on fire to provide a distraction. Grey dirt, lambswool, and long tubes.

  Apeq held out a hand to a nearby guard who was holding a lantern. “If I may?”

  The guard passed him the lantern and Apeq reached into his pocket, extracted a long splinter, lit it in the lantern and then threw it onto the line of grey dirt. Fire flared up along the line.

  “Dragon fire!” someone gasped.

  I looked up from the fire to see Zyla twisting in Karema’s grip to look at me. She met my gaze and then looked pointedly behind me. If she thought I was going to jump with no dragon to catch me, she could think again. I could feel wind behind me like one of those creatures had passed close by. Perhaps she didn’t realize it was no dragon.

  Ye’kut crossed his arms. “I can see the potential. What about the third advantage?”

  Apeq gestured grandly at Zyla and Zin. “I have in my possession the daughters of Arvid the Artificer.”

  The sudden surprise on a dozen faces of the Exalted made my eyes narrow. They knew Zyla and Zin’s parents?

  “He and his family died in an accident,” one of the Exalted said. “His secrets are buried with him – wherever that grave may be.”

  Apeq laughed. “His daughters still know them. And they will help me to craft weapons from this grey dirt like you have never seen. Weapons that do not rely on magic. Weapons to rival the fire of dragons.”

  Now there was a stillness over the audience.

  “All this you could do without claiming to rule over us,” Ye’kut said calmly. “All this we could do without you.”

  “But not this.” Apeq snapped his finger and something roared behind me. I spun to see one of the dark shapes coming right for me.

  Sweat broke out across my entire body. I’d seen this creature coming for me before – but not in this world! – in the world the Seat of Judgment had shown me. It was these creatures I’d faced in battle with my trusty Red dragon. It was these creatures who had slaughtered us with their snapping bites and their massive jaws. These creatures who defied all common sense in being able to fly at all. Imagine the magic you’d have to harness to make that happen? But would it be harder than making a carpet fly?

  It was hard to say. I knew nothing of magic. If I had my way, it would all die out from the earth. It caused nothing but trouble, hubris, and pain.

  The creature had more head than body, no proper legs at all. Its massive snapping mouth and the saddle carved in the metal of the creature that stood out prominently on its neck reminded me of the wolf-golems. It was made to be ridden and made to kill and not much else. Those bright red eyes glowed in the dark of the night.

  I shuddered from the memories of hundreds of creations just like that tearing into my friends, tearing into my dragon, tearing into me. The idea of battling one of those things on the back of Saboraak was nerve-wracking. Who would dare to ride something like that? It would be worse than riding the golem wolf. There would be no way to make it land and no guarantee that you could slide off and run clear before it shredded you to pieces.

  The creature dodged at the last moment, almost brushing the arches with its slick metal belly. It was made of segmented metal pieces that gave it an almost snake-like or fish-like movement. Gasps and shrieks filled the air as it darted over our heads and took again to the sky. Even the guards on either side of me licked their lips, the ends of their weapons quavering.

  “I promised you golems, Ye’kut,” Apeq declared, projecting his voice for all to hear. “And you thought I meant shambling clay. I present to you my dragon golems. There are
only a handful now, but in days I will have a dozen more. In weeks, I could have an army of them.”

  If a Dragon Rider’s soul was used to make one of those fire sticks, what sort of a soul would be used to create a golem like that? I shivered as the answer came to me, but it wasn’t fear that rose up in my belly as it reverberated through my head and settled into my spine, into my fists, into my clenched jaw and rigid belly.

  It was fury.

  Because there was only one kind of soul that could make a faux dragon. There was only one kind of soul he could have stolen again and again – that he planned to steal again from Kyrowat and my Saboraak and all the dragons she had freed – the soul of a free dragon.

  My hands were shaking and my head was light when the golem dragons spun around again to pass, this time sweeping level with the platform.

  “Are you with me?” Apeq demanded.

  The golems had been so close when they passed that time that I almost felt them brush against the backs of my legs. Being stuck between whizzing metal dragons and two sword blades was worse than any ‘rock and hard place’ you could imagine.

  I clenched and unclenched my hands. I’d heard Apeq’s plan. I’d seen the people’s reactions and I knew one thing for sure: I was in trouble.

  Worse, all my allies were in trouble, too, and they all needed me to save them. It was time to stop standing around hoping for some luck. A man had to make his own luck most of the time – usually hobbled together out of broken dreams, misconception and a whole lot of gumption.

  I clenched my jaw and waited.

  The dragon golems were circling again. I followed them with my eyes as the Exalted replied in unison to Apeq’s demand. They were making one of their ridiculous hand signs again. Did they spend their spare afternoons inventing those?

  “We are with you!” they yelled together.

  As if a dam had burst, the people began to cheer – first just one or two calls, then building to a raging storm of praise.

  “The House of Flame!”