Dragon Chameleon: Episodes 5-8

by Wilson, Sarah K. L.

  Gautum stepped off the fungi stairs onto a branch as wide as a dragon. The top of it was worn and flat - from many feet if I had to guess. At least it wouldn’t be difficult to walk on. I joined him on it, looking around.

  From here, there was only one obvious path – down the length of this branch.

  I swallowed as I looked from side to side and up into the tree. If I were to climb up and down the length of every branch of this tree, I could be here for weeks. There were hundreds upon hundreds of lights along each one, glowing in the descending dark.

  And I didn’t know these precepts.

  Good news.

  I could use some of that.

  Zyla says she knows the precepts. They are the beliefs of the Kav’ai – a kind of a catechism of sorts.

  But could I trust her word on them?

  You’re going to have to.

  I hated the thought of being in debt to her.

  I hate the thought of dying for no reason.

  Fair enough.

  Gautm placed a hand on my shoulder, turning me to look at him and then he took out a tiny flask from his belt.

  “Along the way, if you succeed, you will find artifacts of those who went before you. Use these to help you and guide you. You may find many or none at all. You may keep some. Others will be whisked away before you can use them.” I nodded as he continued. “It would have been better for you not to be chosen. Better not to have come for the test. But you have come to the test and you will be tested. Succeed, and you will win the right to sacrifice yourself for your people. Fail, and you will remain here, mired in your own fears forever.”

  Oh, awesome, I get to sacrifice myself for people I’ve never met. Yeah. I could see why they had people lining up for that amazing prize. Oh wait, I was the only sucker here. Me and Bataar. Two fools on a fool’s errand.

  “Do you have anything to eat or drink?” I asked. One last stalling tactic. Though my stomach rumbled dramatically at my words.

  “You will have no need of food or drink here,” Gautm said as if he hadn’t heard my rumbling belly. “This place is not in the physical world.”

  And yet, I still felt hungry.

  “Go now, Ko Bearer,” Gautm said moving his polearm weapon with what looked like a complicated salute. “Make us proud.”

  I had a bad feeling that anything I did that made Gautm proud would be harmful to me. He’d probably watch with approval if I offered myself to have my soul drained out so my people could use me as an artifact. I didn’t trust this guy. No one who talked so glibly about testing or sacrifice was going to take care of you. Not that I needed taking care of. I just needed him not to stab me in the back while I did this.

  “Oh, and a last word of advice,” he said with a smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “Because I like you. Don’t hesitate. Don’t stop. Those who hesitate, lose. Those who stop, die.”

  He liked me? He was giving me advice because he liked me? Because that advice wasn’t at all worrying.

  Well, I’d never been a safe kind of guy, right? Time to put that to use.

  Time to take the gamble.

  Chapter Seven

  OKAY, FIRST THINGS first, forget the old dead guy and walk down this branch.

  Maybe don’t forget him entirely. He gave you good advice.

  Fortunately, the branch was wide and fat and the bright lights in the distance lit the path enough to travel the route easily. I tried not to look at how many other branches there were around me or how many lights. If I thought too far ahead, I might let nerves consume me.

  About that...

  Why was Saboraak so chatty? I thought she was fading?

  I think you gave me strength somehow. Perhaps when you entered the test you added to Bataar’s chances ... and therefore mine.

  I could see the first light gleaming ahead of me. Okay, Tor. Here we go. Time to see how tough this test really is.

  The first light was on a branch at waist height, a bright orange cherry-like orb with a translucent skin. It hung from the branch like an overripe fruit, heavy and full. The depths of the orb were swirling with something. Liquid? Light? It was hard to say for sure. It looked brighter than the fruit, with eye-aching sparkles of brighter light within.

  But I was just steps away. I was going to have to taste it somehow. My palms were sweaty at the thought of it, but I couldn’t hesitate. That was one of the rules that I remembered.

  That’s right. Hurry.

  I drew up to the glowing fruit, the smell of citrus filling the air around me. Well, that wasn’t so bad. I seized the fruit in both hands. The skin was surprisingly firm.

  “Follow the guidance of the first precept.”

  I leapt at the sound of Gautm’s voice. He was standing right beside me. He could have given some kind of warning when we started. Like maybe, ‘Oh, and Tor, I might pop out from behind you later on. Don’t leap out of your skin.’

  “But you ... did you follow me?”

  “I am not bound by space here. The rules are different for the dead. It is my role to give you the guidance you need and then perhaps you shall survive the Trials. But there is not time to speak of this. I have other duties to attend. Follow the first precept.”

  He was gone again as quick as blinking, leaving me rolling my eyes. I hated this place. It was clearly magical, and magic was the worst. It was worse than girls and dragons combined. It didn’t follow the rules that the rest of us were bound to. It didn’t have to.

  But I still had to, and that seemed enormously unfair.

  And now it was going to test me. The problem with all these tests was that I already knew what the results would be. I was a rogue and a knave. A man who would cheat, and steal, and beg just to have a quiet life away from trouble. Was that so bad? I wasn’t a glorious knight or hero, not a Castelan or Dominar. I was fine with that. Why did everyone else seem to expect more from me?

  I looked down into the swirling light of the orb. For every moment I hesitated, it would count against my friends. But it would be easier not to hesitate if I had any idea what this precept was.

  Zyla says she can help but only if you ask.

  I wasn’t asking her for anything.

  I could do this. After all, I couldn’t be the only one to step into this place without knowing the precepts. They were probably just common sense that anyone who was a good person could figure out. You know, the usual. Don’t kill. Don’t steal. Don’t give dirty looks to people more important than you...

  I bit into the orb.

  Taste flowed my mouth, searing the insides of my cheeks and tongue. It was hot and cold both at the same time, bitter and intensely sweet. I felt a shift in the air, as if the world had stuttered for a moment. My vision went double before it steadied. Strange.

  I was still on the branch. Still standing there holding the fruit.

  It was as if nothing had really happened.

  Good thing I hadn’t hesitated. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad. Someone cleared their throat and I spun around to look, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. The fruit had been juicy, though the skin didn’t even show the mark from my bite.

  “Tor Winespring?” the voice was familiar, and the grin was saucier than I’d ever imagined. A pair of green eyes watched me, mischievous excitement dancing in them as the young man leaned casually against a branch as if he had all the time in the world, a hand running through his dark hair almost subconsciously. “Don’t you look like a fool right now.”

  There were dots of orange on his shirt, as if he had just taken a bite out of an orange orb of fruit. Which, of course, he had.

  Because he was me.

  “What do you want?” I asked, letting just one of my eyebrows rise. I knew how to deal with this sort of riff-raff.

  After all, this riff-raff was me.

  “I’m here to help. Can’t you tell?” but his grin – the way he said it like he might be lying or might be telling the truth – well, it was more frustrating on the receiving end than it
ever had been when I was the one offering the cheeky grin.

  Whatever magic this was – and I had no doubt the man was only an illusion, magic being used against me! - it could go back to where it came from.

  “I don’t need you,” I said, turning back to my path down the branch.

  “But you’re going to go through with the test?” he asked.

  “Sure,” I muttered, pushing past the orange orb and hurrying down the branch. I didn’t see another orb along this branch, though light from the orbs on the other branches easily lit the way. I was going to need to hurry. If I was expected to bite more of these orbs, I’d have to find them. The next test – whatever it was – might not be so easy.

  “You think I’m an easy test to face? That’s rich!” His words rolled together in a lazy drawl. I knew that act. I did that when I was trying to pretend that something very important wasn’t important. “Let me guess, you didn’t ask Zyla what the precepts were before you bit the fruit. That’s just like you, leaping where you should look, jumping where you should judge, diving where you should delve – ”

  “Cute,” I mouthed back. “Do you have more of those little word plays? Save them up. Maybe a girl will look twice at you and you’ll finally have something to do with that quick tongue of yours.”

  “You mean – ”

  “I mean charming her,” I muttered. The branch had jogged suddenly to the left, leaving me in a tangle of brambles and jutting branches. I could just about see a way to climb up to the branch above. If I placed my hands just so ...

  “It’s so like you to choose the difficult path. You always think it’s the easy path because it goes in a straight line. But if you were to stop and think, you’d realize that sometimes going in a straight line is hardest of all. The world doesn’t work like that,” my mirror image told me. Whatever he was, it was nothing important – only a magical trick that put my worst thoughts in a physical form. I should just ignore him.

  “Oh sure, you could ignore me, but then you wouldn’t be listening to yourself and we both know that you’ve always found that listening to yourself works best. Or at least it’s the only thing you ever try. You aren’t much of one for advice, Tor.”

  “I’d be happy to get some now,” I muttered. “From anyone other than you.”

  “Ask the girl,” he said with raised eyebrows. He’d drawn one of my throwing knives and was idly cleaning his fingernails with it as I tried to climb through the brambles.

  Saboraak? I asked in the privacy of my own mind. Can you help me out here? Bataar must have gone through at least the first challenge. You must know the precept.

  He wasn’t clear in thinking of them directly. For the first few, he seemed to know how to conquer them almost by instinct.

  That sounded like him. Bataar was the kind of guy with such a strict moral code that he wouldn’t even need to think to do what was right. I was going to need more help than that.

  You could ask Zyla.

  I wasn’t ready to ask her anything. She’d made her choices. Now, she could live with what the results were. And one of those results was my deep mistrust.

  There! I’d finally climbed up to the branch above. Better yet, there was a glowing orb right here! Red and delectable, it shone with strength. Excellent.

  I stepped toward it and Gautm appeared between me and the orb to the cynical laughter of the other Tor. That guy was really getting on my nerves.

  “What part of the precept: ‘No man is a single oasis’ led you here, Tor Winespring?” he asked.

  I felt a sinking sensation. Even I could figure that precept out.

  I wasn’t supposed to do this without help. Whether that meant I was supposed to listen to the other Tor or to Zyla, I had failed.

  Uh oh.

  “You must live with the consequences of your choice,” Gautm said. “The mimic will remain with you in your Trials.”

  The mimic? The other Tor laughed and I glanced at him. Oh. The mimic.

  “And,” Gautm said, “your friends must pay a price, too. Hurry. Even now, the roots begin to bind them to this place.”

  Skies and stars!

  I’d failed the first test.

  Chapter Eight

  EVERYONE CAME TO WAIT beside me. I’m watching them as the roots come for them. It’s worse watching the first roots wrap around them than it was when the first root wrapped around me. You need to do better, Tor.

  Of course, I needed to do better. What had anyone expected? That I would be good at a test of character? Ha!

  I was so sick of always being tested. Why couldn’t I just be enough on my own without being tested first? And what did I care what this place or these dead people thought of me? I’d never claimed to be a hero. I just wanted my friends free and then I was going to walk away from all of this.

  Because that is not how the world works. Trust is short. People don’t just hand it around. It must be earned. Do you know what will happen if you succeed at these Trials?

  I’ll free you and Bataar and the others. It’s all I want.

  The one who succeeds in this test receives a great inheritance and power that can be found nowhere else.

  That sounded like code for hard work and sacrifice. Which was what Guatm had promised was at the end. I hated sacrifice and I had more than enough hard work to do me for a lifetime. With a sigh, I took a step forward. I didn’t care about any of that. But I did care about my friends.

  I reached for the orb but hesitated. The sound of a gong filled the air from far away. Guatm tilted his head slightly.

  Saboraak?

  Yes?

  Can you ask Zyla for the list of precepts, please?

  “Hurry,” Gautm said, his voice taking on a concerned sound. “There is a ... stretching ... I am not used to.”

  Oh no.

  What’s wrong? Saboraak? There was a feeling like panic from her end of our communication. Saboraak?

  Hurry, Tor! Hurry.

  I needed to know the precept this time!

  A man has no claim on what is not already his.

  Oh great. Clear as mud. That was rules and precepts for you. They were fancy ways of saying nothing at all. And for the record, telling me the answer to one question didn’t mean Zyla was trustworthy. I grabbed the red orb.

  “Do not fail,” Gautm said as I bit into it.

  The world shifted around me as the taste of misery and something much lighter ... celery? ... filled my mouth.

  I have bad news, Saboraak said as around me the world shifted.

  Everyone always had bad news. I probably wouldn’t even believe someone if they told me they had good news. Not these days.

  I wasn’t on a branch anymore. I stood in a tower on a platform overlooking a great city. Before me on the platform, were laid three things on a single ivory table. The sun glinted off them and off the city below.

  “Your people suffer, chosen one,” a woman in white said to me from beside one of the many man-sized windows looking out over the city. The filmy curtain swirled beside her and the hot sea breezes of Kavaiathan blew into our tower. “You must choose for us our fate. Please,” her huge blue eyes were full of pleading. She seemed significant here – significant to me. Was she a wife? A sister? I could not place the feeling, but she felt close to me. “Please, choose wisely.”

  Tor are you there?

  Who was speaking in my head?

  Saboraak!

  What was a Saboraak?

  A young man with a saucy grin stepped up beside the woman in white and looked out over the city. He put a hand to his chin as he spoke. “A city in the grips of suffering presents a unique opportunity.”

  “What kind of opportunity?” I asked.

  “The opportunity to change the flows of history,” he said. “You can finally make the gears of government work for you. You can finally profit instead of just surviving.”

  A sound like a gong filled my head and for a moment the room at the top of the white tower shimmered. Instead of white
walls, I saw branches and orbs and a horrified Gautm, but it shimmered back after a moment as if nothing had happened. The only sign of the change was a light shimmer of sweat across the woman’s forehead and a tightening around her eyes.

  “You must choose an object to help you save your people, chosen one,” she said. “Only you know what will benefit them – and you – most.”

  Well, one thing was certain. This was a test and it meant I needed to follow the precept. As soon as the thought came, it felt foreign. Test? Precept? I knew no precepts.

  I looked down at the items below me. There were three, but when I tried to look at any particular one my eyes skipped over it, not registering what it was.

  The woman stepped forward, placing her hand on one of the items. I strained to look at it, but my eyes couldn’t focus. The other Tor stepped up, glaring at her and put his hand on an item, too.

  “This is the Horn of Plenty,” he said and as he said it, the item he was touching was suddenly, clearly a horn. My eyes were able to take it in, to weigh it. It looked real. It was brass with castings of food and drink around the edges of it. “With it, you will never again be in need. You may provide for all your people any food or drink they need. How could you ask for more? And you yourself will never be without.”

  I licked my lips. Now that was something I could use. I’d been hungry most of my life. The idea of not being hungry again sang to me like the song of angels.

  “No!” the woman said, placing her hand on another item. “Material things are only so helpful. Choose instead the Book of Ancestors. Ask this book any question and an answer will appear. It will be the right answer and guide you in the right way. It will make you a hero of legend.”

  The room shuddered as the gong sounded again, twice, three times, loud and desperate as if an army was on our doorsteps. The woman and the other Tor both gritted their teeth, gripping their items intently.

  “Choose!” the woman said. “Choose the way of wisdom! Prove you have in you the potential to be a hero of legend for your people!”

  “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!”