Dragon Chameleon: Episodes 5-8

by Wilson, Sarah K. L.

  “Except that you look like a plucked chicken with those skinny, bare legs,” my mimic said with a shudder. “Stop embarrassing us and cover those up!”

  “I thought I told you to shut up,” I growled at him.

  Saboraak reared back.

  There’s no easy way to say this, Tor.

  Say what?

  The problem is not with your body.

  That made me nervous.

  It’s with your mind. You left the World of Legends insane. Her mental voice ached with compassion. Please don’t panic. I will stay with you and tend you through your insanity. I’ve already told the others. They are ready to receive you as you are.

  Whoa. Wait.

  “There’s been a misunderstanding,” I said, trying but failing to laugh. Instead, the laugh came out a strangled squeak. “I’m sane as you are, Saboraak!”

  Tor, her tone was gentle. I can hear you speaking to yourself. You argue back and forth. And you are not very kind to yourself. You were doing it in your dreams, but now you do it in the waking world.

  She could hear the mimic!

  “That’s not me, Saboraak. That’s a mimic. A thing from the Trials.”

  If it was from the Trials, Tor, then why is it still here? The Trials are over. You won.

  “Because they told me it would last! I wished for him to last.”

  You wished for insanity?

  It sounded strange now that I said it out loud. “I needed two of me to save all of you. So, I wished for two of me.”

  But there is only one of you, Tor. The other one is an illusion in your own mind.

  He looked pretty real to me. He was lounging on a rock with his arms crossed behind his head, dressed head to toe in close-fitting black and wearing a wide hat against the sun. If I was going to convince Saboraak that I wasn’t insane, then I was going to have to ignore him.

  “Good luck with that.” I’d never noticed what a truly mischievous face I had before I met the mimic. Every line of his face looked like he was teasing me, even when he was serious.

  I could ignore him. I’d start right now.

  If you are really sane ... She sounded uncertain about that. If you are, then Kyrowat needs you right away. Hubric is practically bursting.

  “No rest for the weary!” The mimic’s laughter echoed through my mind until a voice cut through it.

  “Tor?”

  Chapter Two

  ZYLA! I’D ALMOST FORGOTTEN about how she’d saved me.

  I scrambled around, looking for clothing. She couldn’t see me like this! She made me uncomfortable enough when I was fully clothed! I grabbed the blanket from the ground, wrapping it quickly around my waist and legs.

  When I looked up, she was standing in front of me with her arms crossed and a smirk on her pretty face. See mimic, she doesn’t seem to mind my chicken legs!

  My mimic snorted.

  Saboraak stood nervously behind her like a mother worried her baby would fall over after taking his first steps. She really did think I was crazy.

  Just relax. I’m going to take care of you.

  I nearly rolled my eyes.

  And I’m asking Kyrowat to give you a moment to speak to Zyla. She’s been watching over you these past few days like a mother with only one hatchling.

  “Did I dream it, or did you save me from the fires?” I asked after the moments dragged out.

  Zyla licked her lips nervously. She was twisting her hands together like she was nervous to speak to me.

  She was dressed oddly in a leather half-shirt that covered the top half of her torso and the bottom half of her arms. A loose white blouse covered the tops of her arms and went from beneath her ribcage to just below her hips. Thick leather belts crisscrossed over waist and hips, cinching and accentuating her small curves. Wide, voluminous pants tucked into low leather boots.

  I recognized the costume as Kav’ai and now that I was tasting the heat of the desert for myself, I could finally understand the practicality of it all. A wide, lightly woven yellow scarf wrapped around her head and hair, keeping the sun from beating down on her.

  I could feel the intensity of the heat even more strongly than I had a moment ago.

  “I couldn’t leave you like that,” she said, her huge eyes bright gold in the yellow sun. “Would you have left me to die that way?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Then why would you think I would leave you, Tor Winespring? You aren’t the only person who can accomplish things, you know! You aren’t the only one who can be heroic.”

  She crossed the rest of the way to where I was and planted her palm on my chest, fingers spread out. I swallowed at the feel of it against my chest, knowing she could feel every beat of my heart. Something like lightning shot through me. Magic?

  “If you mean the magic of a pretty woman touching you, then sure, it’s magic!” my mimic mocked. I ignored him.

  Zyla shoved me backward and I let her. With her hand on my chest, I might let her do anything.

  “Don’t you have the sense to stay out of the sun?” she asked with a sniff.

  I felt my cheeks heat with embarrassment. Why was she so irritated? She was as bad as the mimic. Girls. They made no sense at all. I was trying to thank her, and I ended up feeling like I needed to apologize.

  There wasn’t much room in the small cave, but I ducked inside. She followed me in and any relief I felt from the glare of the sun was suddenly lost as all my blood rushed to the surface of my skin. I could feel my cheeks on fire. I felt as hot as when I’d been on fire in the World of Legends. I felt like I might burn to ash.

  “She’s not that pretty. Get a hold of yourself,” the mimic said.

  I ignored him. He didn’t know what he was talking about. She was that pretty – or that something. Focused, maybe. Or intense. Or something that made my heart pound.

  Zyla looked like she might explode from wanting to say something. She sat, tense as Saboraak, her hands almost shaking with emotion. She had a water skin in them and a stack of clothes.

  “Are those for me?” I asked.

  “Here,” she said, shoving them at me almost like she was relieved to be rid of them.

  I opened the waterskin and drank long and deep. The water was body-temperature – too warm to be truly enjoyable – but I was thirstier than I’d realized. I gulped down mouthful after mouthful as Zyla watched me and I felt my cheeks heating. Her gaze lingered over every part of me as if she was looking for something.

  It wasn’t just that the sun glowed on her flawless brown skin or that her black curls seemed to be a symbol of the mystery of her – a girl who curled and tangled so much that she was impossible to predict. It wasn’t just the kind of courage it would have taken for her to mount Saboraak and demand to be carried back into the World of Legends.

  That’s exactly how it went! You should have seen her! She screamed in my face as if I didn’t want to go back as badly as she did. As if you weren’t my life, too!

  ‘Too.’ Saboraak had said, ‘too,’ implying that somehow, I was life to Zyla. I shied away from the thought. I was no woman’s life.

  I literally just said that you are my life. And I am female.

  That’s different. That’s a magic that binds our lives together. You wouldn’t have chosen me if you had a choice.

  I choose you now.

  I stopped my train of thought. That needed acknowledging.

  Thank you. That’s very sweet. And of course, I choose you, too.

  But I’m thinking about Zyla right now. I’m wondering what it is about her that draws me in like a hummingbird to a flower and bids me bend my head and drink ...

  I took another swig of room temperature water, trying to stall while I thought.

  It was the fact that she’d come for me twice. Once, down in the basement of the Bright Redemption. Once in the fires of the World of Legend.

  She placed her hand on the doorway and demanded to be marked and then leapt on to my back and we flew through the door .
..

  It was that she searched for me in those fires until she found me and whisked me away.

  We almost died in there. We were out of time. The whole world was on fire.

  It was also that, even now, she was facing me bold as a lion, her jaw set and her chin high and those glorious eyes so bright and big and ... worried. As if she was afraid of what I would say. As if I had the power to say something that would break her.

  “Why do you keep coming to rescue me?” I said aloud.

  “Why do you keep acting like you don’t need to be rescued?” she demanded.

  When had I ever done that? I just looked after myself. If everyone looked after themselves it would be easier for all of us.

  “I guess I should be thanking you,” I said more aggressively than I intended. I’d meant to thank her – I really had – but somehow, she always got my back up.

  “Maybe you should be!” I loved the challenge in her eyes. I loved the way that they refused to flinch away from me no matter what I said. “But you’re still angry about before when I didn’t save my sister first,” she said, bitterness filling her voice. “You said things ... ”

  Her voice trailed off.

  I still didn’t know how I felt about her choices when she was spying. I still didn’t know how I felt about her choice to save me instead of Zin. I didn’t like those choices.

  “I’m not used to people needing to rescue me,” I said. And it was true, even if Saboraak was snorting in my head and the mimic was all-out laughing like I was the world’s biggest jester. I felt heat rushing to my cheeks again and the scar on my hand burned hot. Okay, maybe it wasn’t entirely true, but it was still better than having to say the one thing I hated saying most of all.

  She pulled back from me a little, her actions wary, like she was waiting to hear something.

  “I was just trying to do the right thing,” she said, practically vibrating with some emotion I couldn’t read. “I’m always just trying to do the right thing – the faithful thing – the smart thing. But sometimes you can’t do everything. Sometimes it just doesn’t work like that. Sometimes you have to make painful choices and watch how they play out.”

  She wanted absolution. Like I was the one who decided those things. But that wasn’t up to me.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, speaking the magic words I thought everyone wanted to hear.

  “That’s not what I want to hear,” she said in a small voice.

  “You’re terrible with women,” my mimic said, and I felt Saboraak’s agreement in our bond. Great. Just great. They were ganging up on me.

  I scrubbed my hand through my hair awkwardly.

  “Then what do you want to hear?” I asked. She looked so small and vulnerable. She could have been her sister in that moment. Where was the lion who pulled me from the flames? Where was the girl who kissed me and then fled into the arms of my enemy? Where was the defiant glare, the angry frown?

  “When you were being judged in the Ko’tor’kaen what did you want to hear?” she asked, question for question. Her voice trembled. But why did she hide what she wanted instead of just saying it? It was as if admitting whatever it was would make her too vulnerable.

  And I knew that feeling. I preferred to admit nothing. But something about what she said stuck in my mind.

  “Wait ... you knew that was me? Didn’t you think I was Bataar?”

  She laughed scornfully. “As if I can’t tell you apart from Bataar! Be serious.”

  Those anxious looks. Those longing, worried, obsessive looks ... those had been for me?

  My lips parted and the words tumbled out in a rush.

  “That you matter. That your trying matters. That’s what you want to hear, isn’t it?”

  She leaned forward. I must have done something right. Her lips were parted, trembling with every breath in a way that made me swallow and lick my own lips. She was smarter than I was. She was more capable. What did she care what I thought? And yet she did.

  “Yes.”

  I wasn’t the forgiving type. But if I could forgive myself for all my failures, couldn’t I forgive her, too? After all, it wasn’t up to me. I didn’t make those judgments. Except for inside my own mind.

  And I realized, suddenly, that I wanted to give her anything she ever wanted.

  “You do, you know,” I said, huskily. “You matter to me.”

  “I just want everyone to be safe,” she said in that deep feminine voice of hers. It was like she was still begging for justification. Like I had it to give to her. “I just want to keep them safe.”

  “Skies and stars,” I said, reaching up to brush her hair from where it had fallen over her eye. My hand lingered there, brushing her cheek lightly. I was afraid to touch her more. Afraid she’d pull away and run. “That’s all I want, too.”

  Caring about her was a gamble. She was more dangerous than an angry dragon. But I was nothing if not a gambler, right? And the way she was looking at me, like she was begging me to heal her somehow – to snatch her out of her own fires the way she’d snatched me out of one. I couldn’t leave her like that.

  I leaned down, not waiting to think it through, not waiting to weigh my options, just seizing the opportunity. I wrapped an arm around her firmly and kissed her. After all, she’d kissed me first after that golem. I couldn’t let her do all the kissing.

  She kissed me back so passionately that I almost drew back, but I held my ground even as my eyes widened at her searching hands skimming across my skin. That was Zyla for you – a whirlwind in a woman’s body. A pure force of will and determination. She couldn’t be mine any more than the moon could be. And yet, I wanted her.

  I kissed her back, not worrying about what had come before, not thinking about what would come after, just grateful for what we were sharing for that one moment.

  When she was finished – and it was definitely her who decided we were finished – she straightened, quickly tidying her hair and smoothing her clothes while my suddenly empty hands still grasped for her.

  She gave me a brief smile and shoved the clothes she’d brought into my hands.

  “You should put those on. Everyone will be here soon. They want to see how insane you really are.”

  I couldn’t stop the grin that played around my lips and lit my eyes. If this was what insanity brought, I could live with being insane.

  Watch it! That’s not healthy talk.

  I could be more insane than anyone!

  Seriously, you’re worrying me.

  Chapter Three

  I SHRUGGED ON THE LOOSE breeches and low leather boots, fumbling with the many buckles that attached to the wide belt. It spanned from low on my hip bones to the bottom of my rib-cage – thick and with so many straps, knife sheaths, and pouches that it boggled a man’s mind the first time he tried to put it on. There was some sort of harness attached and I fought to settle it over my shoulders and chest on top of the thin white shirt that went with it.

  A soft pair of hands tugged the straps from me.

  “Let me,” Zyla said softly, weaving the straps around my body like she’d been dressing full grown men her whole life. She eased the knife holster between my shoulder blades, as she worked on the other straps.

  I felt my cheeks heating at the thought of what we must look like.

  “She’ll get a bad reputation if anyone sees her with you – but that would be true whether you were dressed or undressed,” my mimic said. He was still sleeping under his wide-brimmed hat. He couldn’t possibly be watching. “I’m you, remember?”

  When Zyla was finished with the straps, she wound a light scarf around my shoulders and neck and then she traced my arm down to the burn mark on the back of my hand. “They healed most of your wounds with magic, but the scars remain.”

  I wasn’t too worried about that. Scars were just proof you’d lived through an adventure. I flexed my hand.

  “Still works just fine,” I said. “What about you? Were you hurt in the fire?”

  Sh
e met my eyes with a small smile. “Not by the flames.”

  “And you have Ko now, too.”

  She snorted. “Not that it will do any good. The World of Legends is gone. The Doorways of Heavens only serve to take a person place to place now. They won’t work to take you to the World of Legends. The Ko’Torenth thought they were markings for their heads of house and to access the judgment power of the ko’tor’kaen, or at least that’s how they used them. The Kav’ai knew what they really were. They knew that the Ko accessed the Trial in the World of Legends. They gave all the Ko Bearers the chance to be the Chosen One. And now you bear the marks of their Chosen One. As long as you are alive, no one else can wear those marks.”

  “Oh.” I ran a hand through my hair awkwardly. “If it helps, I didn’t mean to get all marked up.”

  “It does not help,” she said coolly. “But now that you have the marks, you will have to live up to them. These people – the Kav’ai – they are yours now.”

  “I’m a spy,” I said.

  “I’m afraid that you are more than that now.”

  “I’d have to agree,” a deep voice said. Hubric stepped from around the rocky hillside, his hands full with a leather sack. A baleful-looking Kyrowat followed him, flaming idly at any flies who dared to circle his old head.

  I couldn’t hold him off any longer.

  “Hubric! You’re alive!”

  I hurried toward him, pausing when we were a few strides apart. I couldn’t exactly embrace the old man. The thought of that felt strange.

  “You look ridiculous just standing there,” my mimic said.

  What is wrong with you, Tor? Just hug him!

  Saboraak and the mimic. Two voices in my head – two opinions about how to live. It was the worst when they agreed.

  I still don’t believe this mimic is a real thing. I think you should ignore it and it will go away.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” the mimic said from under his hat. I wanted a wide-brimmed hat like that.