“Choose not to be in want,” the other Tor urged. “You don’t even need to be selfish about it. You can share this with anyone. Choose plenty! It fits who you really are. We both know that!”
Precepts, I suddenly remembered. I was supposed to be remembering a precept. But it felt so far away.
“There’s a third item,” I said, buying time. “What is it?” Neither of them looked at the item. Their gazes were on me. “I’m supposed to be following a precept, right?”
The earth shook and around us, the tower began to crumble.
A man has no claim on what is not already his.
That was the precept!
But I wasn’t a hero. I’d be a fool to say I was. And I wasn’t a man gifted with plenty, as much as I might wish to be. If I pretended I was, then I would just be lying.
“Choose now,” the woman said, panic in her voice as the tiles began to crumble.
I reached down and grabbed the last item on the table. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew what I wasn’t – I was no hero. I was no rich man. I was just a fool boy who desperately wished he was lucky enough to keep all the promises he’d made to his friends.
The item on the table became a small hard ring in my hand.
I’d thought the test would be over as soon as I laid my hand on the object on the table, but the roof was still shaking apart. What should I do? I held my hand up over my head, the ring closed tightly in my fist.
“I choose this, whatever this is, okay? I choose this!”
The shaking continued and then the first heavy blow from above sent me to my knees. The next flattened me to the floor. I was coughing dust. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. What was happening?
The world went black.
Chapter Nine
SOMETHING ROUGH WAS under my cheek – bark. I coughed up the dust and grime filling my lungs as the world shook around me.
He’s here! He’s here!!
Who was here? Bataar? Had he made it?
No. Saboraak’s tone was chilling.
I pushed myself up. I needed to make sure she was okay. But no, I was still on the branch beside the red orb. Some of its juice had dripped in a sticky puddle on the floor, and Gautm was standing beside it, shaking like a leaf.
No, wait. The whole world was shaking like a leaf.
“A third,” he whispered. “A third. Two at once were hard enough but now a third one comes and not by natural means!”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
He looked at me dazed. “It should only be the chosen. Only the Ko should allow access to this place but someone else has come.”
“Someone without Ko?” I asked.
He nodded, his mouth open, a look of horror on his face. “A Rejected.”
Like I knew what that was. I shook my head to clear it. Well, they could all have their collective panic. I had a job and I needed to do it.
“Did I pass that one?” I asked Gautm.
“What?” he was dazed, his eyes far away and out of focus.
I snapped my fingers in front of his face. “Dead man? Hey, dead man! Answer me! Did I pass?”
“What did you choose?” he asked, blinking as he pulled himself out of wherever he had been. The tree continued to shake.
“This ring.” I held it out for him to see it.
“What did it represent?”
“How should I know?”
“You were supposed to choose an item to help your people. Are you telling me that you truly didn’t know what you chose?” he looked shocked.
“I took a gamble,” I said, grumbling as I examined the ring. It was a gaudy thing. It looked like overlapping silver birch leaves, the points of the leaves pointing along the arc of the ring.
“A gamble.” He seemed almost as shocked as he had when he had been whispering about this new person. “And yet you did seem to pass this test. You must hurry. The next person follows. He will be here before long to take his turn at these orbs. If you both bite of the same orb at the same time, you will be in the same test. And if that happens, only one of you can win. If you are truly unlucky, you may die within the test with him.”
“How can he take the tests if he isn’t marked by Ko?” I asked. “Shouldn’t he have to wait below with the others?”
Gautm turned pale. “He should. But he is not.”
I opened my mouth to ask him why he even had rules if they were so arbitrary, but he shoved me forward.
“Hurry. On your life, hurry!”
Above me, I heard a scream. It sounded very much like Bataar. I stole one last look at Gautm, clenched my jaw in determination and looked above me.
I was supposed to follow the path of the branches wherever they led, right? Well, forget that. I was going after Bataar, and I was going now. I leapt up, grabbed the branch above me, and pulled myself through the tangle, following the sound of his cries.
I didn’t care who was following me. I didn’t care who was making these dead ancestors so nervous or shaking this place apart. All I cared about was getting to Bataar and getting him free from these tests. If two people could enter one test, then maybe I could join him in whatever one he was stuck in and free him.
You should care about who follows.
Why?
Because it is Apeq A’kona and he has already killed four ancestors who tried to stop him.
Chapter Ten
APEQ AKONA! THE MAN stuck in my craw like a bone in the throat. I couldn’t get away from him. And on top of that, he had forced himself into this place with magic when it was only supposed to open for Ko Bearers! He lost his Ko. The Ko’tor’kaen had taken them from him.
You care about their beliefs more than I thought you would. That’s admirable.
It wasn’t admirable. It was common sense. If I had to play by the rules, then he should too! Why didn’t this place refuse him? Why didn’t it wrap him in roots like it had to Saboraak or my supporters?
That’s why it’s shaking apart. Ancestors from every direction are rushing in to try to stop him, but he brought his tools – those rods that shoot fire.
But what was he doing here? Didn’t he have a nation to run? A war to start? Hearts to break and people to kill? You’d think an agenda like that would keep a man busy.
I climbed harder, fuelled by frustration at Apeq. I could see Bataar above me beside an orb that pulsed violet and brighter than any other one I’d seen.
I have more bad news.
Well, don’t keep it to yourself!
Time passes differently in here than it does out there. Here it has only been an hour at most since you arrived, but out there it has been days since you passed through the Doors of Heavens.
Were you and Bataar only here a short time before we arrived?
For us, time has also been strange.
Time was never on my side. But in fairness, Saboraak – and the few people wrapped in roots down below – were the only people who had ever been on my side. And I owed them everything.
Well, if Apeq could break all the rules, so could I. But to break rules, you had to understand them. Saboraak, can you get Zyla to tell you the complete list of Kav’ai precepts?
Her answer was immediate, as if she had been ready.
No man is a single oasis.
A man has no claim in what is not already his.
Glory is an empty cup. Do not grasp for it.
Those with feet rooted in the ground will never reach for the stars.
The power of death belongs to us all, but life serves no master.
All things must strive.
It was strange to hear her list the precepts off so calmly in my mind while around me leaves shook from the tree and the branches swayed as the entire reality in this world tried to reject the addition of Apeq A’kona.
Why was he here? Why couldn’t he just have left us alone?
I am riffling through his mind.
Yuck. I would not want to be in Apeq’s mind.
Neither do I.
It is like dredging a slough.
Did you find anything?
I have. Before he attacks the Dominion, he would like to claim the leadership of the Kav’ai. He thinks they have more of that gray powder in their possession that he won’t find unless they offer it willingly.
Then why did he come here? Is he after Bataar?
In a way. Bataar was sent here by his elders. If he succeeds – as they say he must – he will be their leader as long as he lives.
So, no pressure.
You could learn from him, trout. He is honorable and dutiful.
He could keep his honor and duty. Put them on a shelf somewhere and polish them up to show to guests. Me? I’d stick with good old practicality and a rock-hard survival instinct.
Surprising characteristics for a hero, but you pull them off.
I was no hero.
I pulled myself up on a wide branch and found myself right beside Bataar. He stood rigidly in place, his face in a rictus as he held the violet orb.
If Apeq wins here before Bataar does, or if he can kill him or stop him, then Apeq A’kona can lay claim to the Kav’ai people, too. They will not be able to stop him.
That would mean you were dead, too.
An unfortunate side-effect.
There was no side-effect there. Saboraak’s life meant everything to me.
I am touched. But no, it is of less importance in the grand scheme of things than Bataar’s leadership. It is vital that he survives this. Even more vital that Apeq does not beat him.
How would Bataar’s leaders even know?
The one who beats this trial does inherit sacrifice – as you suspected – but they also inherit something else. Something they can use to prove their status.
If you are talking about face tattoos, trust me. I know all about those. As soon as there’s moonlight, I’ll show you mine. Although, in fairness, I’ll be looking in a mirror first. I’d like to see what sort of death mask they put on me without asking.
As decorative as I’m sure your new look is, that is not the sign.
Oh yeah?
Sweat dripped down Bataar’s temples and his hands shook more than the rest of this place, as if the pressure of the current test were getting to him. Who knows how many tests he had already faced. I’d skipped over mine. I could pull him away from it ...
Don’t!
Why not? I needed to get him out of here!
It will kill us both. And he is not doing well in the test.
He’s not?
I think he may be failing.
What happens if he fails this one?
My voice will fade again.
I couldn’t let that happen.
Tor? Her voice was uncertain. I’d never heard it like that before. I paused, my hands inches from the orb. There was no Gautm to stop me or recite the words over this orb. He was probably out there trying to stop Apeq. But somehow Saboraak’s simple voicing of my name gave me greater pause than anything he could have said.
If we don’t speak again, I have two things to say.
We’ll speak again.
First, you should know that whoever survives this Trial will be given the sign of truth. A way to distinguish truth from error.
Not my first choice of prize. I preferred to keep my secrets and lie as needed.
We both know that’s not true.
I was about to help Bataar and pretend I liked doing it. If that wasn’t a lie, then what was?
Your biggest lie is the lie you keep telling that you’re not a hero and that you don’t care.
I was about to protest.
Tor? The other thing?
Yes?
Take care of yourself. Life isn’t the same without you.
Well, what was a guy supposed to do with words like that in his mind? I could hardly disappoint her now. She had me right where she wanted me. Dragons. They were worse than magic trees and crumbling dead guys.
I wouldn’t disappoint her.
I grabbed the orb in both hands, leaned down – uncomfortably close to Bataar – and sunk my teeth into it.
Chapter Eleven
I PLUNGED INTO ANOTHER world. Unlike before, I could tell.
This world had a washed-out look, like it had been hanging in the sun too long and had faded. Was it always like this, or was it a result of Apeq entering the test and slaying the ancestors? And how did you slay people who were already dead?
“Even the dead have fears,” the other Tor said, stepping up beside me. He was grinning his easy grin and letting his green eyes skim over the faded-out beach scene in front of us. A choppy, violent sea beat against the ragged coast, tearing it apart, a single grain of sand at a time. I didn’t have the time to sit around and watch its slow march to disintegration. “Even the dead can be killed.”
“Gautm was preoccupied when I entered here. Any chance you might know what precept we are following in this one?” I asked the other Tor. Maybe he could be good for something.
He winked and said, “You tell me. I’m you.”
“You smile too much,” I said with a scowl. His answering laugh made me want to slap him. Did he take nothing seriously?
“There’s something odd about that hill,” he said pointing in the distance.
I’d been noticing that, too. I started walking toward it. There was a whimpering sound coming from the mound of earth on the beach. It was the size of a small house and our side of the mound was a sand dune with patchy beach grass growing on it. Whatever was whimpering might be around the other side.
“That ring you got before ... the one with the leaves,” the other Tor said casually, “might be useful right about now.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked. “How’s that?”
“I’m not sure yet, but you won that test, and the ring must do something.”
What was the point of having a companion who didn’t know anything more than you did, didn’t see anything you didn’t see, didn’t have anything to contribute other than what you would contribute?
“You forget,” the mimic said. “I’m not a reward. You failed my test. I’m a curse – a constant reminder of who it was who failed that. And you don’t learn very well, do you? You strayed from the path and went your own way. You don’t even know what the rules for this place are.”
“Rules?”
“Isn’t that what the precepts are? The rules of these realities?”
He had a point.
The sun glared over us, beating so hard on my neck that I bent forward in response. I tried to keep my gaze down and out of the worst of it, but because of that, I kept getting glimpses of the mimic. He walked like he owned the beach. He whistled through his teeth unconsciously and ran his hand vainly through his hair. His gaze passed over everything easily, like nothing could affect him. Did I really look like that?
“Yeah, you look like me,” he said with a laugh. “Here’s another fun twist. I know all your thoughts. They’re my thoughts, after all.”
He was going to get old fast. He started whistling a tune I knew called, I’m Older than the Hills. Maybe if I slapped him, I wouldn’t feel it.
“Oh, you’d feel it. I’d make sure you did.”
That was just the kind of threat I’d give someone.
He snickered.
The moaning grew louder as we approached the mound of sand and twice my vision flickered, showing branches and a glowing violet orb instead of the empty beach. This reality wasn’t very strong.
“Do you think those dead guys come up here and try out these tests when they get bored?” the mimic asked.
“I don’t want to speculate.”
“Sounds like a terrible afterlife. If this is what Bataar has coming to him, you should be nicer to the poor guy. It’s a miserable existence. Do you believe in an afterlife?”
It was a strange question to ask a guy in the middle of a crisis.
“Technically, you’re asking yourself. I bet someone like Zin gets an afterlife. And Saboraak.”
We ro
unded the corner of the sand mound and I finally could see who was moaning. Bataar was on his knees in front of an ancient-looking stone structure. It was like a wall, twice as high as a man, though it was built to look like an angry face with an open mouth. In the dark slats between each of the stone teeth of the mound, metal levers poked out from deep in the mouth. You would have to kneel – as Bataar had done – and reach up to your shoulder into the mouth to grasp one of the levers and pull it.
Bataar, it seemed, had pulled the wrong one.
There was an inscription carved into the stone around the face. I leaned over Bataar as my mimic read it aloud.
“Choice is a gift to all men. You must choose. But choose wisely. Each choice takes its price. Ooo, creepy.”
Bataar’s face was white as a ghost. He leaned with his forehead against the stone, sweat soaking his head and shirt. I tried to move him, and he screamed. His arm was clamped in the stone. Streaks of red and purple shot up its length all the way to the shoulder.
I swallowed. This was not good.
“I think he chose poorly,” my mimic said blithely. I wasn’t that uncompassionate, was I? No, I wasn’t.
My throat ached, and my mouth felt dry as I studied Bataar. He was trapped. There was no way out. How long had he been in this test? Had he been in this particular one the whole time, or had he only been in here a few moments? It looked like he’d been here for hours. But Saboraak said time worked differently here.
“Maybe when you leave, you’ll be an old man,” the mimic said. “You’ll fly out of here like Hubric and Kyrowat. If you fly at all. Your friends might already be dead.”
I tried to ignore him. Bataar was muttering something. I leaned down close to listen.
“Glory is an empty cup. Do not grasp for it.”
That was one of the precepts. He was murmuring it again and again like a chant. Perhaps that was the one he was supposed to be following. I needed a way to get him out of this test. But I couldn’t drag him out of it, and I felt ill at the thought of cutting his arm off. Was there some other way to open the mechanism that was holding him?
Dragon Chameleon: Episodes 5-8 (Dragon Chameleon Omnibuses Book 2) Page 11
