If I could do it over again, I would even be nicer to the mimic. Maybe.
“Oh, thanks,” he said sarcastically. “It’s been your approval I was missing all these days. By the way, this isn’t the next life. That comes when you go over that horizon.”
He pointed to the horizon – the very one that always pulled at me. It pulled now, stronger than ever. And despite the beauty of the World of Legends – the meandering creek I’d laid out with the trees bending over it and the cool shade dappling the soft grass and the huge moon hanging in the sky – I still felt drawn to it.
“You could go there,” he said as I watched other travelers working their way toward the horizon.
From where we stood on the rocky ledge of a cliff looking over the creek, I could see a long way off. And there were hundreds – thousands, maybe – of souls working their way through the gorgeous landscape toward that horizon. I wondered if they were hungry or thirsty or cold. I hadn’t thought to provide for that here when I built the new World of Legends.
“They aren’t,” the mimic said.
“How would you know? I thought you can only know what I know.”
“Not here,” he said. “Here, I’m more than that. I’m not just your mimic – I’m something more.”
“I guess it worked out for you to come here with me,” I said. The look he gave me was surprisingly penetrating for someone who could already read my thoughts. “What?”
“It all depends,” he said. “Remember when you chose me as your gift?”
“Yes. And what a wonderful choice that turned out to be,” I said cynically.
He grinned. And for a moment, I felt like my old self, a carefree boy who had nothing to worry about in the world – no nations depending on me to keep them whole, no dragons needing me to build them a city – no love.
My heart sank.
Responsibility wasn’t all that bad when you factored in the love and purpose that was all woven through it.
“Oh, there’s love. Beyond the horizon,” the mimic said. “If that’s what you choose.”
“What other choice is there?”
He laughed. “I was just getting to that. Remember when you chose me as your gift?”
“We’ve covered this already.”
He ignored me. “Well, I really am a gift. Not just because I make you self-aware so you do fewer foolish life-killing things. Not just because I showed you the shadows of the Magikas so you could find their flaws. Not just because I’m a much more interesting person than you are. No – there’s a bit more to our relationship, Tor.”
“Oh yeah? Let me guess, I owe you something, too.”
He looked sheepish. “Actually, I owe you. I’m your other life.”
“Other life?”
“Like, you know how you keep spare throwing knives in your sheaths for if you lose one?”
“Sure.”
“I’m your spare life.”
“Are you saying that when I walk to that horizon that you get to go back to my body and live my life?” Panic welled up in me. What a disaster that was going to be! “See Saboraak’s eggs hatch? Ride my dragon?”
He snickered. “Kiss Zyla?”
“Shut up.”
He sobered. “Could be, sure.”
A cold fist clamped on my heart.
“Or, I could walk to the horizon and you can go back. Kiss your own girl. Watch your friend’s babies hatch and take over the world because there’s nothing so charming as more ravening carnivores in this world. You could, I don’t know, generally take all those responsibilities back.”
He couldn’t really mean that. Could he? Because if it was true, if I could really get a chance to go back and keep trying ... well, I’d do better. I’d try harder. I’d be less irritated by Bataar.
“No, you won’t. You’ll still find him irritating. He’s your polar opposite.”
But I’d be kinder to him.
And I’d get revenge on Apeq.
“Yeah!”
Or maybe not ... not if it made the mimic so happy.
“Ha! How are you going to make decisions when you can’t blame me for everything?”
Somehow, I’d muddle through.
“So,” I said, feeling suddenly awkward. “How do I do this.”
“Close your eyes.”
I closed my eyes. “This feels weird.”
“That’s why I told you to close your eyes.”
“I feel like I should be thanking you,” I said.
“About time!” he agreed. “Oh. And I should mention ... this is going to hurt.”
Pain flashed through me so hard and fast that I wondered for a moment if he had tricked me, if perhaps he had gone back to my body and I had gone to my final destiny – one where I would be repaid for all my cruel thoughts and heartless actions.
When the agony subsided, there was only a dull pain in my chest and indistinct murmuring from above me like I was surfacing from underwater.
I opened my eyes.
Chapter Fifteen
My eyelids fluttered open.
“I knew you’d be okay. I just knew you couldn’t be dead. The prophecies were so clear.” Bataar was leaning over me excitedly, his face practically glowing.
“Send me back,” I moaned. The last person I wanted to come back for was Bataar.
“Tor!” Bataar was pushed away and a much prettier face leaned over me. Tear-streaked and puffy-eyed, Zyla’s was still the prettiest face I could imagine. “You scared me half to death!”
I couldn’t tell if she was relieved to see me or angry that I’d almost died.
“In fairness, I was the one who actually died,” I said, gasping as I tried to sit up.
“Don’t move! He stabbed you in the back! You don’t want to make it worse,” Zyla said.
“There’s something worse than death?” I asked, finally forcing my body to sit. My back and chest ached and it hurt to breathe – like my lungs had forgotten how.
Zyla laughed in a way that was too high-pitched – like she didn’t know if she should be laughing or crying.
“I don’t know how you’re alive, I don’t know,” Zyla said. She sounded like she might cry again. “You weren’t breathing. I thought Bataar was crazy to keep saying that you’d come back to life.”
“Sorry to see me still alive?” I asked and my voice was a rasp. It was like my body had liked having time off and was rebelling against the thought of having to do the work of living all over again.
Her response was half-sob and half cry of protest, but she launched herself at me, knocking me back to the ground as she kissed me. Tears flowed down her face, mingling with our kiss and I laughed hoarsely at the feeling of it. It felt good to be alive. To hold her again.
This time, I’d treat her right – buy her all the books she wanted. I remembered that she liked those. And make sure that she had plenty of interesting things to study and know more about than me.
Whatever I did, I wouldn’t break her heart again.
She pulled away after a long – very enjoyable – minute.
“Don’t die again,” she said sternly.
“Wasn’t planning on it,” I said with a laugh that cut off into a cough.
She pulled me up to sitting and this time I caught a look at where we were. I was sitting on a rug in an elaborately furnished tent. Bataar sat awkwardly in a folding wooden chair, his fingers still threaded through a stack of papers set on a small travel table beside him.
“Is this Apeq’s pavilion?” I asked.
“Yes,” Zyla said.
“And the papers?” I asked Bataar.
“Details. He wrote down everything – where he found the golems. How he got them out of the mountain, a few at a time, and stashed them in the deserts of my people. He sent down spies and emissaries to the Magikas here, seeking their help and a few agreed to help him – mostly of the Dusk Covenant – but then the Truth War broke out and when it was over, it turned out that a lot of Magikas wanted to follow
him and assist him in his goal to destroy the Dominion. Their names are listed here. The Door of Heavens he had dragged down and hidden in the mountains near Dominion City – just like Zyla thought when she had that sack over her head! There are other things, too. Spies in the Houses of Ko’Torenth, storage vaults where he hid his things. More. Everything you will need to set all of this right as Ko’Roi.”
“I don’t think so, Bataar,” I said easily.
“You must. You are Ko’roi. The prophecies say, He who walks the World of Legends commands the ancients. He who passes their scrutiny will divide truth from lies and set the course of history. He will be called Ko’roi – the weaver of the future. And then further on they say. His hands weave justice. His right hand divides truth. He shall weave for them a new land and find for them new friends. From the ashes of their power, a shoot of hope springs green. From his palm, he grants them life again.”
I hated it when he quoted prophecies at me. They all sounded so grand that they couldn’t be about me. He looked at me with bright eyes as he stood up.
“We need you more than ever, Ko’roi. We need you to rebuild us.”
“I didn’t mean that I was going to abandon my responsibilities, Bataar. Only that I was planning on asking you to plan all of that out. You’re better at it than I am. And I’m going to need your help to know what to set right.”
His smile was far too happy. “It will be my honor.”
It was all I could do not to roll my eyes at his enthusiasm.
“Now,” I said, pulling myself painfully to my feet. My chest was hurting less, but it just made everything else hurt more. My coat had been removed and the shirt underneath it was in tatters, my chest still showing the ring of burn around the pendant and the grime and mud of the battlefield. “Are we still in the middle of a battle? Because if we are, then we need to get back to work. There’s no call for laziness.”
My hands shook at the thought of returning to the horrors of war, but I’d promised to be better. I’d promised that I’d never again shirk a responsibility.
I stepped out of the tent and my breath caught. Around our tent was a ring of Magikas, hands raised in the air and magic sizzling from their fingertips.
“Did I mention that Bataar and I are captives?” Zyla said quietly from behind me.
Chapter Sixteen
It felt surreal to stand inside the ranks of Magikas. Hadn’t they realized that simply putting me in a tent untied, uncaged, would leave them vulnerable from behind.
“They thought you were dead,” Zyla whispered. “When Lee Estabis went on a rampage at your death, Apeq’s Magikas fought back. I wasn’t paying enough attention. I was too upset about your death. You still haven’t explained how you’re still alive! The next thing I knew, you were being dragged in here and so was I.”
“They caught me at the Door of Heavens,” Bataar whispered, joining us as we looked out the gap of the tent wall. “Threw me in here after you two were already here. I think they planned to use me and Zyla as bargaining chips. They knew we can’t escape. We’d be caught and killed in a moment. No one expected you to come back from the dead, Tor.”
“But you were speaking as if we’d already won,” I said.
“Well, you’re alive, aren’t you? Now, you’ll win this for us,” Bataar said, certainty dripping from his voice.
Of course. I should have known.
I snuck another look out the tent flap. Dragons swirled in the air and fireballs and lightning streaked to meet them. Even with the golems gone, the armies left behind were a powerful force. In front of the Magikas, giving orders and firing his own lightning, was Apeq, looking powerful and triumphant as always.
Strange. He felt similar to me, as if there was some kinship there. No, that wasn’t it. And it wasn’t just his tattoos, either.
I thought that it might be the magic he wielded. It was as if I could feel it sizzling through the air, just like I could the moment before I stole it from Eventen.
I stepped through the tent flap, just standing there, letting the scene of horrific battle sweep over my vision. Dragons dove down into the ranks of Magikas, flaring bright flames while Magikas fought back, tossing fireballs and lightning, holding up fan-like devices that I hadn’t seen before. The flames of the dragons washed over the fans like water off an umbrella. Foot soldiers swarmed whenever a dragon went down, hacking and chopping at them when they were weak and vulnerable. My jaw clenched and my spine straightened. This needed to end. Now.
This was what I was trying to prevent. This should not be.
I reached through the ring around my neck – why had they let me keep it in death? Hadn’t they realized how dangerous it was? Or maybe only Ambrosia had known what it was – and toward the magic in the rods Apeq held in his hands. It was no effort at all to snatch the souls away from them, sending them to the Door of Heavens.
Apeq shook the rod, confused. But after a moment, he pulled another rod from a basket nearby and went back to shooting fireballs.
I was thinking too small.
That was always my flaw.
I shouldn’t be disabling one weapon, or even one man. I needed to remove all of this magic. I needed to do what Bataar’s prophecies had said and weave some justice. The lines of the future weaving out before me suddenly popped back into view. It would be a gamble. It might even kill me. But hey, I’d lived through death once before.
Time to take the gamble.
I reached through the ring, closing my eyes so that I could concentrate on every flicker and flare of magic, every soul trapped in a Magika’s rod, every well of magic under the ground. I found them all, one by one, concentrating, concentrating until I could pinpoint each one in my mind’s eye.
And then I pulled, wrenching them all from their sources and funneling them toward the Door of Heavens.
There were yells of alarm around me and then someone was cursing nearby. Zyla pulled at me, trying to bring me back into the tent, but the time of hiding was done. Now was the time to weave the future, to paint the victory, to finish this or die trying.
And slowly, one by one, I felt the pin-prick lights of magic disappear, felt the souls release, felt the magic of the wells disappear into the Door of Heavens.
I reached, further out, as far as I felt I could go – to Woelran where the spirits had been trapped in some magical way, pulling, pulling to free them and up to Ko’Torenth, searching with my power for anyone trapped in a magical device. I hoped I had freed them all. I hoped there were none left trapped forever in a terrible half-life.
I opened my eyes.
Around me, Magikas stood stunned, looks of horror on their faces while fury painted the face of Apeq.
“I am your Ko’roi,” I bellowed, hoping that at least some of Ko’Torenth could hear me. I wished I knew that trick to make my voice louder. “I was dead, but I am alive again. Lay down your arms. We surrender to the Dominion. The ashes of our defeat will fertilize the green shoot that is our future!”
It sounded silly to my ears. Like a boy playing at being a king.
But the Magikas in front of me fell to their knees like puppets with cut strings. And behind them, others began to kneel in waves. And the dragons stopped their mad dives and slowly, peace ebbed out over the muddy plains around Questan until they reached a place beyond my ability to see.
I scanned the horizon, looking for the one dragon who could remain unseen if she wanted to. Had I been too late for her?
There was no sign of Saboraak as the words ‘too late’ reverberated through my mind. My heart raced until I thought it might burst.
And then, rising up like that green shoot of hope was a faint voice.
Just in time, Tor. You’re always just in time. It’s one of the things I love most about you.
Chapter Seventeen
Wars, it seemed, took a long time to clean up. It was almost dawn before I got a chance to sit down beside a friendly fire.
First, I’d had to speak to the living leaders o
f Ko’Torenth – my people now. To the soldiers, my orders were simple. Gather the wounded. Bury the dead. Pack up your gear and march back through the Door of Heavens. Simple, but not quick. It had taken them all night to square things up and line up in front of the Doorway.
After an hour of testing, Bataar and I had tuned it to Kav’ai again, and he’d gone through ahead of me to round up enough Kav’ai to be sure my orders were obeyed on the other side. There, the orders were just as simple: go home.
I’d deal with them all when this was done. We’d sort out Ko’Torenth and mete out justice after peace was wrought here.
Apeq, I gave to the Dominar. She said she had a use for him, and I certainly did not. Besides, even with my mimic gone I was worried about what my inner voice was pushing me to do. Revenge was a terrible thing – as bad for the person getting it as the person they were making pay. I was worried about what I might do if I kept Apeq. And I certainly couldn’t set him free. The way Raolcan’s eyes had glowed when the Dominar had Apeq tied behind her saddle made me feel confident that Apeq wasn’t getting an easy way out.
We will give him to Haz’drazen, Raolcan said in my mind. She has been asking to be given one of the troublemakers who want to see the downfall of dragons. She would like to ask some questions.
That didn’t sound so bad.
Her questions can be ... uncomfortable.
Like, “How often do you bathe?” kind of uncomfortable?
Like, ‘Do you prefer to be set on fire with orange or red flames?’ kind of uncomfortable.
He was probably joking. I’d heard he was a real prankster.
The golems had been another problem. Without souls powering them, it was impossible to clear them from the fields and roads and city unless dragons lifted them one at a time and flew them to the nearby mountains.
The Dominar’s forces had taken over that task, and Saboraak’s wing of dragons had wanted to help. I’d ordered them not to.
“You’re with me now,” I told Nostar. “And I say that you’ve earned your rest. Besides, I need to go to Ko’Torenth soon after we finish here, and Saboraak is too tired to even fly. She needs the deep sleep of dragons.”
Dragon Chameleon: Episodes 9-12 Page 25
