Dragon Chameleon: Episodes 9-12

by Wilson, Sarah K. L.

  I chewed the inside of my cheek, thinking. What should I do? I could try to start immobilizing these golems and singing the souls to rest. But how many could I do that for before I was overwhelmed? And when that happened, wouldn’t they just kill me? They were only keeping us alive right now because they thought I had something they might like to study. I was pretty sure they were only keeping Bataar to ensure my compliance. If it suddenly became more trouble to keep me alive than to kill me, I knew they’d choose just to get rid of me.

  I had all this power – but no one to help me use it. No way to make it work.

  “I don’t remember you being so indecisive,” my mimic said. He was watching Ambrosia. “What? She’s pretty. Do you think that’s her real name?”

  “I don’t know, she could have been named a fancy name in hopes that she would be important eventually. What do you think they’re doing over there?”

  Soldiers had rolled out reed mats running from the stairs of the doorway cart and across the mud to where they were busy erecting open pavilions and starting campfires. If I had to guess, I’d say we were about to receive visitors from the other side of the doorway.

  “Then why isn’t Ambrosia over there instead of babysitting us?”

  “They have a present for me,” Ambrosia said clearly from where she was setting a kettle on the campfire. The soldiers must have found fresh water nearby. I’d never realized before how much work it took to move an army or how dreadfully slow the whole process was. “Did you forget that I can hear your parasite?”

  She smiled at the mimic and he winked at her. Really? My shadow self was flirting with an evil Magika who wanted to destroy the non-magical people of the world? Talk about self-destructive tendencies!

  “What sort of present are they sending you?” I asked. I glanced at Bataar. He had coaxed the horse over and was petting her nose through the bars of the cage. Hmm. If it liked him, then that was a good thing.

  “Well, to be honest, it’s more of a present for you, but I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”

  I swallowed, worried now. Any surprise that Ambrosia might have for me wouldn’t be a good one.

  A servant ran up to Ambrosia, breathless.

  “House A’kona requests your presence at the doorway for the welcome ceremony.”

  Ambrosia sighed, “See why I’m sick of people with no magic? They waste time on pointless ceremonies when they could be studying or actually achieving something.”

  She stood and followed the servant, leaving her horse behind her.

  “Bataar,” I whispered urgently. “This is our chance. If we put you on the horse, you can be well away from here and I’ll make my way to the center of the golem army up ahead and disrupt it.”

  “I’m not leaving you. We can go to the center of their army together.”

  Bad idea. Two would be caught more easily than one.

  “I’m not riding a horse with your arms wrapped around me like Prince Charming and his darling bride,” I snapped. “I need you to get to safety. What good is it to keep you here?”

  “I know the song. Besides, I think you can use me with that Ko’roi power just like you stopped Apeq’s tattooed arms. We’re marked. Not just as representatives, but as your ... something. Captains maybe?”

  My whispering was as urgent as I could make it. “It’s a suicide mission. Before I’ve freed half the golems the humans will stop me and probably kill me, okay?”

  “Then why don’t you flee, too?” he asked.

  At his question, a hundred images flashed through my mind. Images of crying children, their desperate mothers clutching them. Images of broken bodies dashed to pieces by the golems. Images of abandoned toys and panicked soldiers. If I didn’t try, that would be Questan, too.

  “I have to try.”

  “Then I have to try, too,” he said mulishly.

  “Well, I’m not riding that horse with you!”

  “Honestly, Tor, I think riding a horse through this camp might draw some attention, don’t you think?”

  He had a point. “Fine, if you want to die with me, I guess I can’t stop you.”

  “I thought that would be clear by now.”

  I hated giving him the last word, but it was pretty clear he was going to keep taking it. With a shake of my head, I went to the lock and opened it with a flick of my wrist. They should have locked it with more than magic, but that was the problem with people who did everything with magic. They thought it could do everything. They relied on it too much. It was the people who didn’t have it who knew you couldn’t just take things in this word for granted. Not locks. Not victory. Not friendship and not even the idea that you had more days to live. I’d steeled myself for death before. I could do it again.

  I took a deep breath, looked around and then slipped out of the cage.

  Time to take another gamble.

  Chapter Nine

  I was risking our lives betting on two things. First, that the guards and our captors would be relying on that magic lock to hold us and second, that the arrival of their guests would be enough distraction that they wouldn’t be watching us.

  So far, it was working out just fine. We left the horse behind, loosening its reigns from where they were tied. When it eventually wandered off, it would distract people and make them think we’d taken the horse.

  I sauntered to the closest tent, slipping inside.

  “What are you doing?” Bataar hissed.

  “Looking for a uniform. Don’t want to stand out,” I said.

  But there were no uniforms in the first tent. Fortunately, Ko’Torenthan soldiers were orderly and hardworking. Their tents were already laid out in neat lines and they were all off greeting the new arrivals or guarding the perimeter, or tending horses, or cooking food, or whatever else they were up to.

  “Here!” Bataar hissed. “Try this covered cart. Maybe it’s a supply cart.”

  We slipped inside and I hissed a sigh of relief that he was right. Stores were piled carefully in sacks, barrels, and bales. These were dry goods, not food. Horseshoes, spare rope, broadcloth for tent repairs, and other mismatched items needed for a group of people this big.

  “Here,” Bataar called and I hurried to his side where he’d opened a cloth bale. Inside were matching Ko’Torenth jackets in the colors of the arms men of House A’kona.

  “Perfect,” I agreed, slipping one on. There were no trousers or boots, but no one would be looking at that if we were just walking by, would they? I grabbed a black cloth and wound it around my head. No sense tipping everyone off to who I was. I pulled the hood up from the uniform jacket. Good thing they had so much snow in Ko’Torenth or they probably wouldn’t have a hood as a part of their uniform.

  “Walk with purpose, but not too quickly,” I suggested to Bataar as we slipped back out. There had been no weapons in the cart.

  We strode along the tent lines, me with my hood up and Bataar nodding congenially to anyone who passed. We strode with purpose, just two soldiers on a mission. We were halfway across the camp when the trumpets sounded to greet the guests. How stuffy. I was glad I was no Ko’Torenth Head of House.

  “Why are the golems so far away?” Bataar was looking nervous.

  “They don’t need tents or fires or food. Makes sense to keep them out front where they can keep the road clear for everyone else,” I said.

  But I was getting worried, too. With every moment that ticked on, I felt like more eyes were on me.

  When we finally reached the golems on the edge of the camp, I breathed easier. Together, we ducked into their ranks. They stood silent and still, row upon row of metal wolf-golem death and destruction. The ones nearest me shuffled slightly, conscious of my presence. I felt a knot growing in my belly.

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s try this.”

  “Just sing the song,” Bataar urged me. “And try to give me the power, too. I’ll sing with you.”

  It felt silly to stand between rows of silent killers and sing Bataar’s
song. I cleared my throat awkwardly and he frowned.

  “Okay, okay, I’m getting to it.”

  “You look like a fool,” the mimic laughed.

  I felt my cheeks heat as my voice cracked on the first note.

  “Maybe you can get us started,” I muttered to Bataar.

  He began to sing – rich, powerful notes drifting from his lips and filling the air around us. I closed my eyes to try to feel less foolish, and I began to sing, too.

  At first, it felt like nothing was happening.

  And then I felt it. I felt my connection to each of the dots of the trapped souls that powered the golems. I could see how they connected to the greater pattern. It all seemed so clear with my eyes closed. As I sang, they began to wink out, one by one, absorbed out of the golems and back into the pattern.

  I opened my eyes, trying to pull at Bataar with my mind so I could give him my same ability. But no matter how I moved my mind to push or pull, nothing seemed to happen with him.

  The souls were still winking out. One at a time, slowly. It would take days to free the army like this but saving even one of these souls was something good. Saving as many as possible – that was what we were here for.

  I was okay with the idea of giving up everything for that. It would give my people a fighting chance at this army. It would give Zyla a chance to survive. And Hubric. And Saboraaak.

  Tor? Is that you?

  The song fell from my lips, my concentration shattered.

  Saboraak?

  If you can hear me, please help! We were looking for you, but they found us.

  What happened? Saboraak? What’s wrong?

  They captured us, Tor. All of us. They’re taking us somewhere.

  Where? Where are they taking you?

  My mind felt numb. I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate, but the song wouldn’t come back, and neither would Saboraak’s voice.

  Bataar’s song stuttered to a halt.

  My eyes shot open.

  A smiling Ambrosia clipped a bronze ring around his neck, and he fell to the ground like a stone from the side of a bridge.

  “Your turn, Tor,” she said. “I told you I had a present for you.”

  I turned to run, sprinting three steps before soldiers closed in from every side. Something struck me from behind and I fell to my knees, gagging when rough hands wrapped a bronze collar around my neck and forced me to the ground.

  Chapter Ten

  When I woke, I wished I was still unconscious. Cold winds whipped around me and someone had lashed my hands to a pole. I really hated being lashed to poles. It had never gone well for me. I gritted my teeth and looked around me.

  I was leaning against the pole on my knees. Heavy black stone formed a floor under my feet and the wind whipped and swirled snow around me in shredding icy blasts. In the hazy clouds, a dull glow marked where the sun should be. Wherever I was, it was not the road to Questan. And based on where the sun was in the sky – it was not the day I had been collared, either.

  The stone area was ringed by low walls and at the very center, a Doorway stood, snowy drifts gathering around its base. That explained how I got here. I stood, feeling the cold metal collar around my neck biting into my neck. For some reason, I couldn’t feel that doorway, even though it was so close. But I could feel the collar just fine.

  Not far along the circumference of the stone area, Bataar was slumped against the stone wall, his own hands lashed to a pole.

  I stepped toward the low wall, my hands tugging behind me. I could just see over the edge to the mountains below and the city laid out tier upon tier under this high, open-topped tower.

  This was not Ko’Koren. Or any other city I was familiar with. But it clearly a Ko’Toreth city. How long had it taken them to get us here? How many days had I lost? I felt a sinking feeling in my belly.

  Where was Saboraak?

  Saboraak?

  She wasn’t close enough to hear me. But she had been in trouble and I hadn’t been there for her. A sick feeling washed over me at the thought. Was she still alive? Would she be okay?

  I worked at the leather lashings on my hands, trying to free myself, but they wouldn’t give.

  “Bataar?” I called. “Bataar?”

  He was still unconscious.

  The doorway seemed to glow suddenly and then Ambrosia was stepping through it.

  “I thought those things only linked one location to one other location,” I said through chattering teeth.

  “I knew you could use magic, whether you realized it or not,” she said coolly. She wore a thick fur cloak with a wide hood and a fur muff for her hands. While I was flinching from the freezing wind, she looked warm and snug.

  “How did you get us here when that doorway connects to one in the deserts of Kav’ai?”

  She laughed an ugly, mocking laugh. “Like all fools, you think that you know everything. You don’t. The doorways can be tuned to link to other locations. Apeq A’kona knows the trick of it.”

  “So, it didn’t take you days and multiple doorways to get me here?” I asked. But my mind was racing. Any of them could be connected to anywhere? That doorway they were moving to Questan could carry more than armies. It could transport more than golems. It could bring whole cities into connection with one another.

  She ignored my questions. “Your friend is still unconscious. Those collars have bad effects on the non-magical.”

  “I’m non-magical,” I argued.

  She smirked. “Apparently not. If you were not able to access magic, it wouldn’t be blocking that magic and it would have knocked you out like a blow to the head.”

  “I was knocked out.”

  “Sure. But that was because one of the soldiers hit you too hard.”

  “If you can just move anything through these doorways, why haven’t they been using them in Ko’Torenth for years? I don’t see much traffic coming up here,” I said, looking at the single lonely door in a cavern cut into the rock.

  She shrugged. “Who knows? There aren’t many Magikas here and a lot of the old knowledge was lost. I think that Apeq has dug up more than anyone else can even dream of. He’s an amazing man.”

  “Yes, I first noticed that when he was sucking souls out of innocent people.”

  “It’s funny that you should mention that. We were going to suck your soul out. Apeq is quite concerned about how you were able to stop his arms just because you’re marked up by those tattoos – horrible things! – and I am quite interested in what sort of object we could power with such a fascinating soul – now that you’ve proven that you don’t know what you are doing and can’t teach it to us. After all, if those dead heroes chose you as their Ko’roi – over Apeq! – they must have seen something interesting in you. Now, to you that might be flattering or some sort of vindication. To me, it just means that I should dig a little and see if I can pull it out and use it for our cause. I rather liked Shabren, you know.”

  “So did I,” I said, my mind racing. Keep her off balance. Find a way out. “It was his dogged pursuit and easy distractibility. Made me think of a puppy.”

  Her expression turned sour. “What you think is funny, I think is a disgrace. You destroyed a man worth ten of you. And you destroyed him at a time when we needed him. With Shabren gone, Apeq is forced to lead the armies. And that means he isn’t back here tailoring this nation to be what we need for the next step. And that bothers me. I’m not working for our side out of vengeance – that was Shabren’s thing. Or out of disillusionment – that is Eventen’s reason. My reason is very simple – ideology. Our civilization was built on magic. Magic holds our cities up, gives us protection, helps us travel, grows our food, mines our ore. Do you know what happens if it fades away?”

  “You have to get your white hands dirty?”

  She sneered. “Thousands of people will die.”

  “So what? You’re going to kill them first?”

  “If thousands of people are going to die and we’re all going to descend
into a dark age of magicless life, reverting to a time before the technology that magic has made for us – without the structure, without the gifts – then we need to try to balance the scales in our favor. That’s just survival sense. We need to horde magic objects. Because we’ll need those when the magic sources are gone. We need to take captive as many dragons as possible and tap their magic before they die, and it just melts away like snow. And we need to keep as many people as possible alive who are capable of accessing magic so that they can find a way to bring magic back some day.”

  “So why do you want me dead so badly if you’re keeping magic people alive?”

  “I’m not concerned with whether you live or die, Tor, but I want to take that power you have away. You’re going to use it to try to stop us,” she said calmly. “And what we are doing might just save humanity before we fall back into a time past – a time where we’ll end up killing each other over food and clothing while we sink deeper and deeper back into the past with no magic wells left to tap and no way to recreate the world we once lived in.

  “But just the magical parts of humanity, right? You’re planning to kill everyone else.”

  “We need to limit who lives. Look at this vertical city we stand over. Does this even make sense without magic to power it?”

  “You Magikas are always talking about how magic is fading, but I see you using magic all the time,” I said.

  “Oh really?” she almost looked amused. “Tell me what you’ve seen?”

  “You took Estabis with a siege. You transported armies across huge distances. You put these collars around our necks. You locked us in a cage with a magic lock and tied me with magic to a rock.”

  “We took Estabis with golems – powered by souls we took a long time earlier. There was no new magic there – hardly any is even used in directing them. We transported the armies through doorways – we don’t power those. They are ancient things that don’t seem to take from the surrounding magic stores at all. The only magic you’ve seen used were the lock and the restraint. And those I made too weak to hold you because I couldn’t find the resources to make them stronger. You think you’re seeing magic everywhere? Ha! You’re seeing the dying flickers of an old way of life. And you’re making it all worse by destroying the few resources we have left in wanton disregard of the future. These are end times, Tor Winespring. We are living in them. There isn’t time or resources for generosity anymore. Not for second chances or hopes. All we can do it hold tight to what we have left.”