Dragon Chameleon: Silver Eyes

Dragon Chameleon, Volume 5

Sarah K. L. Wilson

Published by Sarah K. L. Wilson, 2019.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

DRAGON CHAMELEON: SILVER EYES

First edition. January 4, 2019.

Copyright © 2019 Sarah K. L. Wilson.

Written by Sarah K. L. Wilson.

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Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

To the intrepid reader:

Behind the Scenes:

For my readers who were willing to join me in the Discord community this year. Thanks, guys!

Chapter One

My heart thudded in my chest like the hammers working the nearby forges. This area of Ko’Koren was given over to artificers – to blacksmiths and glassblowers, to framers, wheel wights, and candlemakers. A hundred shops with watery-glass window panes in their doors and brightly colored-signs were lined up along the lower tiers of Ziu.

My legs were heavy – two leaden weights – and my gait was not so much steps as simply a fall that was suddenly arrested by a leg stumbling forward, leading into the next stumble and the next.

My arms lost feeling hours ago. My lungs began to burn so long ago that it felt like they had been aflame for years. Oddly, I smelled smoke in the air to match them. Perhaps they had ignited, or perhaps it was simply the nearby forges.

I glanced often toward the horizon as I walked the boardwalks of the exposed mountain city, but with the snow coming down so heavy it was impossible to see anything beyond the rail. Only the darkness reminded me it was still night. I wasn’t even sure that daylight would brighten the world under such a heavy blanket of snow.

Zin – carried in my arms like a burden and wrapped in burlap to look like one – had stopped crying. Where her tears dampened my shirt, I only felt a chill now. Perhaps she was asleep. Perhaps she was dead – though she was warm still. Perhaps her mind – so close to the edge – had finally fallen from it. I didn’t dare stop to check. If I stopped, I wouldn’t be able to continue.

I couldn’t go back to safety through the tunnel on the Balde peak of the mountain city and I couldn’t stay on the Eski peak – that was too close to Apeq and his kind.

Going to Ziu was wisest. And now, I was looking for something particular. I would know it when I saw it.

I didn’t know if Saboraak was okay. Didn’t know if she and Bataar had survived. She had been silent for long hours. And her silence was not good.

I kept looking. I would know the place when I found it.

I was worried about Saboraak.

My thoughts were looping. I knew it, though I couldn’t stop it.

Looping.

Know it when I found it.

And then there it was. A red door with a sign stating it was an inn – The Frosty Pint – with a mug engraved on the sign and a snowflake. But it wasn’t the sign that I had been looking for – it was the small key shape carved like a decoration at the top of the doorframe. To the average person, it would only look like decoration. But me? I’d grown up on the streets of Vanika. I knew a few things. And this was one of them.

When someone opened the door, I shoved in past him. The inn was quiet and dark, with a fire in the main hearth burning. The man still holding the door open held a broom like he’d been sweeping up in the common area. He was dressed sloppily, his apron askew, his grey hair sticking in every direction, but he fixed me with a stare as sharp as the belt-knife I carried.

“Late to be out, lad,” he said, his tone suggesting he was looking for a specific response.

“I’ve business with the night,” I said casually, smiling. Just two men talking idly. But if he was who I thought he was, he should know the code I’d given.

Thieves were thieves, whether here or Vanika. And thieves needed items fenced or hidden.

“Best watch your step. The night hides many things,” he replied, still testing me but with a veiled threat.

I forced a laugh against the nerves welling up inside. “If only she’d hide a few for me!”

There was a twinkle in the man’s eye and now our smiles were genuine.

He leaned the broom against the wall and walked up to me. “Anything can be hidden ... for a price.”

I was expecting this. I had a gold coin ready. One of Hubric’s, but he left them to be used and I was using them.

“A gold coin now and one later if you hide me and my goods for a day or two – food included. Hot, if you have it,” I said. I knew he’d expect this. I’d heard the same interchange a hundred times when I was growing up.

He grinned. He should be grinning. If things were the same here as they were back in Vanika, two gold coins were more than he’d make in legitimate business in a month.

He took the coin quickly, palming it so fast I couldn’t tell where he’d put it. “I have just the place. Follow me, then. You look like you could use some sleep.”

A yawn ripped through me at his words, but there was no time to rest – not yet. I followed him up a staircase and then he walked to the end of the hall, looking furtively around before pressing on a wooden panel and leading us through a secret door and up a second – dustier – set of stairs that curved and wound past several doors until it reached one at the very top. The innkeeper pulled out a key and unlocked the final door, thrusting it open for me.

“I’m Gaven Ho’Wret, innkeeper here. The room is yours and for that payment, you can have it and the food for a solid week. Just don’t go showing off that hidden door to anyone or take anything stored up here or I’ll throw you off the roof.”

In anyone else, it would be an idle threat, but Gaven Ho’Wret was just stating facts. The casual look in his eye when he said it told me that much.

“Of course,” I agreed.

“I’ll send up breakfast when it’s ready. Until then, get some sleep.” He cracked a grin. “I hope that whatever you stole was worth it. It seems to have taken a lot out of you.”

He left a candle in a holder and closed the door behind him, giving me the chance to look around.

There was a tiny window – no larger than my face – with a curtain over it. A washstand and basin, a low bench, and a wide bed strewn with untidy blankets. Not the finest room in an inn, but a safe one. For tonight, at least. With a sigh, I gently placed Zin on the bed, my arms barely able to bend after being locked in place to carry her for so long. She lay curled up still as I unfastened the bindings that disguised her as a package, gently covered her with blankets.

When I was done, I barred the door.

I needed a better plan than this, but I was too tired for that. Just a little sleep and then I’d come up with something amazing.

Just a little sleep. 

I should probably make a pallet on the floor for decency’s sake. I collapsed at Zin’s feet across the foot of the bed. I’d make a pallet in a moment. I just needed to close my eyes for a second.

Just for a second.

Chapter Two

I woke to quiet sounds like scuffling mice. I sat up, blinking in the dim light of morning. I was ... somewhere ... oh, yes. The events of the night before crashed over me and my yawn cut off abruptly when I remembered how much trouble we were in.

I looked around the room, orienting myself. I’d collapsed on the foot of the bed with everything I still owned attached to me. Huddled at the head of the bed, her dress tucked neatly around her ankles and the book of Ibrenicus Prophecies in her hand, was Zin.

She seemed calm and she’d found time to wash and straighten her chin-length curls. Her huge golden eyes seemed to glow in the faint morning light.

“We need to talk,” I said.

Saboraak? Still, no response from my dragon and that was not good. Not good at all. It made me feel itchy under my skin.

In as few words as possible, I laid out our situation.

“I know you aren’t much of a talker,” I said, running a hand through my hair awkwardly. “And no one asked you if you wanted to come along for this. But here we are. We might be able to get you out of the city and safely away, but I have Saboraak and Zyla and Bataar to worry about too and until I find them, I have no one to send with you.”

“Feel the rush and fly the run, and sound the warning cry,” she whispered, quoting the prophecies.

“Those are some of the prophecies in the book,” I said, nodding. She was crazy. Out of her mind crazy. But she’d saved my life last night.

“Look,” I said, trying again. “I appreciate what you did last night. Whatever that was – bouncing the magic back at them – that was great. You saved my life. What did you do?”

She shuddered and I raised my hands to try to stop whatever train of thought I’d started.

“Sorry, sorry. I know you don’t like to talk.” Whatever it was, I hoped she’d do it again.

“Four there seem but five there be,” she whispered.

“Is that another one of the prophecies?” She didn’t answer, still flipping through the book. I laughed to myself. “Three and four and four and five. It’s like a child’s nursery rhyme.”

“Up he goes but can’t come down, not unless he wears a crown.”

I sighed. Talking to her was worse than useless. I should have known that she couldn’t – or wouldn’t – talk to me. Whatever the Magikas had done to her, after they killed her parents, had taken her mind. Or maybe she’d hidden it deep within and just didn’t trust me enough to show a hint of it.

“I’ll get you out of here somehow – I promise. But I don’t know how yet. Can you sit tight?”

She looked at me owlishly. It was all I could do not to sigh again.

“Can you wait here today? I’ll have food brought, okay? Just stay here, and read your book and stay out of sight and I’ll be back by nightfall, okay?”

She nodded. My hands clenched and unclenched, and I chewed my bottom lip, watching her. Could I trust her to understand? Could I trust her to stay here where it was safe?

There was a knock on the door and I opened it gratefully. The skinny innkeeper was back, this time with a tray of porridge.

“My woman runs things in the day,” he said. “I’m just delivering your porridge and then off to bed.”

He looked worse in daylight than he had last night – there was a faint bruise on his cheek and shifty look in his eyes. I swallowed hard. You worked with what you had and trusted as little as possible – but sometimes you still had to trust. And I was still pretty sure that the money was enough to hold his tongue.

I opened the door a little more so that he could see Zin sitting on the bed behind me. I didn’t like the look he had in his eyes as I fished in my belt-purse and found a silver coin by feel. I offered it to the innkeeper.

“My friend is going to stay here while I’m gone. This is for her safety and for her meals. If you leave her alone and bring the food – or have your wife do it – then I won’t have to take care of you.”

I let a dangerous look creep into my eye. Honey and fire. That was the best way to deal with vermin. Lure them with honey or burn them with fire. I was showing him I had both.

“I have no wife.”

“Your ‘woman’ then,” I replied, my lips twisting over the name. I didn’t like a man who showed his companion so little respect.

“Fine,” he said, rolling the coin between his fingers as I took the tray. He was looking curiously at Zin.

I set the tray down on the bed and took out my belt knife, calmly trimming my nails as I spoke. Best to remind him of who he was dealing with. Remind him that curiosity was unwelcome.

“I have dangerous business to attend to today. I’d hate to have to add more to that list.”

I fixed him with a stare and he swallowed so hard that his Adam’s apple bobbed. Good. Make him nervous and he’d leave Zin alone.

“No need, master.”

“Good.”

He was gone so quickly that the stairs seemed to play a symphony of squeaks at his retreat.

“They won’t harm you,” I said to Zin. Her nose was buried back in the book. “Your breakfast is hot.”

She still didn’t look up.

She spoke suddenly. “The problem with lying isn’t just the morality of it. It’s that in the end, it’s impossible.”

Was that another prophecy?

“Zin?”

She didn’t answer. If it had been a real comment from her – if her mind had surfaced again for a moment – well, it was gone again now.

I sighed and left, closing the door carefully. I had no idea what to do with her, but I’d have to find something – and all on my own. She wasn’t giving me any help.

Tor?

I almost sagged with relief as Saboraak’s mental voice filled my mind. Finally!

Chapter Three

Saboraak? Are you okay?

For now. They gave us a merry chase.

With what?

I don’t have enough time to explain.

What was so pressing that she couldn’t explain?

The dragons are dying.

Didn’t she say that if I died, she would die soon after? Well, the riders for those dragons were dead.  I mean, anyone would feel bad, but she expected that, right?

Yes, I know about that. I have a decision to make.

And what would that be? I felt tense, nervous. She was going to leave with them, right? It would be okay. I’d been on my own for a long time. I didn’t need a dragon to babysit me. I’d take Zin and we would walk back to the Dominion. We would have to leave Zyla, obviously ...

I’m not going to abandon you, Tor.

Relief washed over me, but I tried not to show it. Okay, then what was the problem?

Bataar must meet Apeq man to man at the Seat of Judgment on Balde tomorrow night – at dusk. All of Ko’Koren will be there.

On Balde? I thought that thing was on Eski.

There is one at every peak. Bataar must meet him at the one on Balde.

That would be problematic. Bataar wasn’t here.

But I must get these dragons to safety. We must continue to avoid capture, but we must also get them to a place where they can be healed and the Lands of Haz’drazen – the country of dragons – are too far for them to fly there in time.

This could be healed?

If we are quick.

She must have somewhere in mind.

Bataar says it can be healed in the lands of the Kav’ai. They have access to things that can heal the dragons, he says.

And did she believe him?

He does not seem to be lying.

She must be talking directly to his mind. I was surprised by the pang of jealousy that I felt at that.

Don’t be a hatchling. He needs help. He is healing from the wounds he received in the battle last night, but he is still injured. I had to speak to his mind to be sure he could recover without help.

And you? I felt tense as I waited for her answer. It was strange to be standing here in this dusty storeroom stock-still while I listened to a dragon in my mind.

I escaped unscathed. For now. These people want dragons. They want these four, especially.

Four? Only four? I thought she had more.

We had a dozen. They chased us to the hideout last night. When I saw we would be discovered there, I fled to where I had hidden the dragons. I thought the place would be impenetrable. I was wrong. They descended on us quickly. Only five of us escaped. Bataar was on my back.

There had been more than that in the dragon cotes when we arrived in Ko’Koren.

Some were already missing when I freed those who remained. They speak of men in dark hoods with whips. Their friends were taken.

I shivered. Could the Midnight Artificers have taken those dragons? And if they did – what sort of an object would you make a dragon into? Something terrible, I bet. I wished I knew how many were missing.

Ten are missing.

She sounded very certain.

I did not wish to leave any behind. I questioned the others closely.

And where were Saboraak and Bataar now?

Far. I had to backtrack to find your mind, but I will need to leave again soon. We are far down the mountain, almost into the deserts of Kav’ai.

I felt shocked that they were already so far.

We fled all night. Soon I will lose connection with you.

I felt torn. I’d had to help Zin last night. But I should be with Saboraak. Both of them were under my care and needed my help. By helping one, I’d put the other in danger.

Bataar must meet Apeq on the Seat of Judgment – the Ko’tor’kaen- tomorrow night. But he must come with me and help me save these dragons. The journey, he says, will take four days – even if we are flying. Two days there. Two days back.  

And Bataar could not be in two places at once. Maybe she could go without him. I could find him and get him back to the city in time. But in time for what? What was so vital about getting him back here in time?

Last night, Apeq laid claim to all of Ko’Torenth. He said in his speech that he would lead them to victory over the Dominion and “usher Kav’ai back into the fold.” The people were with him until Bataar challenged Apeq’s claim of all of Ko’Torenth, using the Ko on his arms as his proof of authority. There was a riot, people shouting and fighting from both factions. We barely got out alive.

So, if Bataar was not there for the challenge, then Apeq would rule unchallenged and that would mean the imminent invasion of the Dominion.

Yes.

Then Saboraak must fly Bataar back here immediately.

These dragons are worth saving. I will not abandon them. They served their riders faithfully. Death is not a fair price for that!

Well, we were in quite the pickle. Saboraak was bound by honor to help her own. I was bound to prevent a war. Bataar thought he was bound to prophecy and legend. We were quite the bunch.

I stood motionless in the dusty stairwell, my mind racing as I tried to picture Bataar and Saboraak last night. He had gone in his Kav’ai garb with his face and head covered by a thick veil and his loose clothing flowing around him. He had shown the Ko, made his challenge and left. The people wouldn’t be able to pick him out of a crowd. Not with his face covered.

Exactly.

But in Kav’ai, he was the only one who knew how to help the dragons. Saboraak needed him.

Yes.

The answer was so obvious that I almost laughed at myself.

You’re asking me to take his place, aren’t you Saboraak?

Yes. She sounded sheepish.

You want me to go stand on that awful platform again and face off with Apeq. But this time there would be no Saboraak to catch me when I fell. It would be suicide

Will you do it?

Ummm ... no? Was ‘no’ an option? It sounded like suicide, and despite what it might look like, I was not suicidal.

I need this, Tor. I need to save these dragons. This is the only way. You’ve survived worse. Her mental voice seemed to be pleading.

I only survived before because she was with me! But that was it, wasn’t it? She’d saved my hide many times. What kind of worm would I be if I didn’t give her what she wanted?

I swallowed. This was a terrible idea. An idea that was almost certain to get me killed.

It’s a gamble and you are a gambler.

It made me think of Zin’s words. Lying was impossible. Maybe. But maybe I could pull it off. Maybe I could gamble one more time and live. I was good at showing people what they wanted to see. I’d just do it one last time and then Zin and I would leave here. Maybe even with Zyla in tow.

I knew I was talking myself into it, but I couldn’t stop.

Had Saboraak seen Zyla last night?

Last time I saw her, she was safe.

Well, that was a relief. What was going to happen to Bataar – to me posing to be Bataar –  after he challenged Apeq? Was he expecting to be imprisoned? Followed?

He thinks the rulers of Ko’Torenth will bend the knee to him. That it is his destiny. He says the prophecies are clear. If you can just hold on for a few days and keep your identity hidden, then he will return and take over ruling from you.

A risky plan. They could choose Apeq instead.

He says that they can’t.

They could decide to kill me just for standing up there. Especially if they realized who I was!

Don’t be dramatic.

Fine, Saboraak. I’ll do it - but you owe me.

What do I owe you, trout? If my tally is correct, I’ve saved your life four times now.

I deflated. When she put it that way ...

Her voice interrupted hurriedly.

I’m joking, Tor. I’ll always be there when you fall.

It was Bataar who was getting out of all of this too easy. He’d wanted to be free of responsibility. Wasn’t it convenient that he’d found some other fellow to shuffle it onto just in time?

He didn’t plan this.

Maybe not, but he was about to benefit from it.

I must go.

Yeah, go. Just stay safe. Don’t die on me.

Same to you.

I felt her mental voice leave me.

Fine Dragon Rider I was. I couldn’t even keep my dragon around, much less keep her to myself. It seemed that big heart of hers was always flying off to save someone or another.

I smiled affectionately as I finished making my way down the stairs, snuck out the secret doorway, through the hall, and into the inn’s common room.

I had two days of freedom until I had to face Apeq and I planned to use every minute of those days getting myself some kind of an advantage.

Chapter Four

Advantages, it seemed, were hard to come by in Ziu. I hadn’t realized how different this peak was from the others in Ko’Koren. Ziu was rife with the criminals. I hadn’t seen any on the boardwalks of Balde and Eski. I’d almost been pickpocketed more times than I could count in the first hours that I wandered through the levels.

Small knots of scarred men and women huddled in any shadow or crevice there was between buildings, speaking in low voices and sending shifty-eyed glares in my direction.

Crime wasn’t the only things rife in Ziu. This was where things got done.

There was barely an Exalted guard or fancy house in sight. Instead, the boardwalks were jam-packed with porters and yudazgoat drivers. Open carts filled with coal moved in a steady stream along the cart rails, the sounds and smells of blacksmiths, tanners, butchers, and chandlers filled the air. I smelled gore as I passed the butcher that changed to a sweet lavender at the chandlers and a smell that made my belly rumble as I passed a bakery. The bakery spanned three levels, churning out golden bread at an unbelievable rate. Men with massive baskets strapped to their backs exited the bakery, darting along the boardwalks and up the stairways on a mission to deliver it all over the city.

Ziu was a place I could love. I could live in these streets.

I’d stopped at the bakery, buying a huge loaf of bread as long as my arm and as thick as my wrist and breaking off pieces of the steaming loaf as I walked, stuffing them in my mouth. Yes, I could get used to Ziu.

I was looking for a few things. First among them, was a set of throwing knives. Once you got the hang of juggling, throwing knives was an easy skill to pick up and I’d had an old set before Vanika fell. But throwing knives were expensive. Getting the weight just right took skill. I hadn’t been able to afford a replacement set after I lost my first ones – an aged pair I’d bought from a fence eager to get rid of them. Until now. Hubric’s gold would go a long way.

I darted through the crowds, scanning shop signs and windows with care. My gaze snagged on a figure in a blue tunic and cloak peering at me through the crowds. I must stand out despite my attempt to blend in. Either that, or someone from the Midnight Artificers was looking for me here. They’d better not be. If they were, this was all going to be a lot more difficult.

When the crowd jostled him and he had to look away, I ducked into the nearest knife shop, browsing over their wares. On a shelf behind the counter, a set of eight steel throwing knives with sheaths for wrists and ankles sang to me like a siren. The other knives in the shop were heavily decorated with House crests or scrollwork. These were unadorned but perfectly crafted.

“Can I see those?” I asked the shopkeeper.

“A good eye, fine sir. Though these are simply my shop models. They are balanced but undecorated. Merely placeholders to show the quality of the blade. We can decorate the handles with a crest or design as you like. Give us twenty days and we will perfect them for you. Or, if you are pressed for time, perhaps I can show you some finished products. Something with silver inlaid, perhaps?”

As if a knife cut any deeper because it had a pretty handle!

“Can I check the balance?”

He handed me one and I tested it, checking to see how it balanced over a single finger. I twisted my hand, letting the knife roll across my knuckles and then back into my grip. Perfect.

“These will do,” I said briskly. “How much?”

“I sell the finished sets,” the shopkeeper said, emphasizing the word ‘finished’ in a firm tone, but his eyes were on my hands as I made the blade dance along my knuckles again and then spin through the air in an arc to my other hand. “A finished set is sold for five gold coins. I can show you a set I finished last night. Their balance is lovely and the scrollwork on the handles exquisite.”

He smiled, twirling a wide mustache, but there was a worried look in his eyes. Clearly, I was breaking custom, but I didn’t care. I was no Exalted to throw pretty toys around. I meant to do business with these knives. Who would want to leave their signature every time they left a knife in someone?

I slipped a second one from its casing, juggling the two knives in a simple crossover pattern. Carefully, I added a third. This was the edge of what I could do with juggling knives, but they performed well, balancing as expected.

“If you are a performer, perhaps something with crystals in the pommel? Something that flashes, yes?”

In answer, I let the knives fall in a line along his wooden counter, trying not to look too smug at his shock when all three landed perfectly, their tips buried in the wood and their handles vibrating.

“Just these, I think, and the rest of their set.” I reached into my purse for five gold coins, lining them up neatly along the counter. I added one more to the line. “And an extra coin for your discretion.”

No need to have him telling every fool who came in about the boy who bought his knives for a fool’s price. The shopkeeper’s eyes popped, but he swept the gold into his hand without a pause and smiled widely as he helped me position the wrist and ankle sheaths and arrange the eight knives.

“A fine purchase, hopefully for a fine gentleman?”

He must think I was off to rob someone with them. Nothing could be further from the truth ... well, unless you considered stealing a kingdom to be theft. Perhaps that was the greatest theft of all. But Apeq was stealing it first.

I left the shop with a feeling of hope. Maybe there would be a way to survive this next step. Eight knives could only help my chances, right? I scanned the streets for the man in blue, but even he had disappeared. Yes, there were reasons to be hopeful.

By the time I started back to the inn, with darkness falling around me, I had found everything we would need. Clothing, weapons, and ways to carry them. Hope made my burdens light and my step easy.

I’d hesitated when I was purchasing things for Zin, but I couldn’t leave her here. I’d just have to trust that she had enough sense left to survive this with me. She was the only ally I had nearby. And the only friend.  

Chapter Five

The sign for The Frosty Pint was in sight when I rounded the last corner. I was hunched against a freezing wind and the flaying ice dust that drove before it. The shadows were long and black, and the snow was blue under the darkening sky. A dangerous time to be out in the boardwalks. I quickened my pace.

The snow had drifted, filling some of the crevices between the buildings, but the one nearest me had an odd look – like it was too black. That didn’t make sense at all. I peered into it, my eyes blinded by the bright lights in the inn windows nearby.

I was still peering into the shadow when an arm reached out of it, grabbed me by the front of my coat and dragged me into the narrow crevice. My packages fell to the ground.

I had a knife in my hand before I could blink, grateful for the purchase. Even more grateful that my hand didn’t shake despite my soaring pulse.

There was a harsh laugh from the shadow and a hand shot out to hold my wrist.

“You’re going to stab me, boy? And here I thought you’d be glad to see me.”

I gasped. Silver swirled in the depths of those eyes and a hulking frame towered over me, but there were no swirling violet robes. Shabren wore the clothing of the Order of the Oaks instead, his simple white robe bare to the snow and wind without even a heavy cloak to protect him. He must like frostbite. Or maybe he was so vain he just didn’t care.

“Having fun in the slums, Shabren?” I tried to keep my voice light and mocking. “And here I thought you were getting your jollies causing riots.”

“I cause nothing, boy. I simply ride the wave of chaos.”

I tried to pull out of his grasp, but he was too strong. The hand gripping my wrist tightened. I could go for the knife in the other sleeve, but I needed to wait. If I revealed that I had more than one, then he could use his overpowering strength to stop me. I needed to wait until I could surprise him. If I could keep him talking ...

“So that wasn’t you I saw controlling those golems?”

“Oh, look what a smart lad you are with fancy names for magical creatures.”

He stomped on my instep to punctuate his sentence and I moaned, barely biting back a yell. Stars and skies! That hurt! Air hissed through my teeth as I slumped against his grip.

“I want those girls back, boy,” he hissed.

“Then talk to your friend Apeq A’kona,” I said through gritted teeth as the pain washed over me. “He has them.”

“He only has one. The other slipped away. And she left quite a mess behind her. I’ve known that girl for a long time – months. You could call us ‘old acquaintances.’” I shivered at his words, but he kept talking. “I’ve never seen her hurt a fly. So, I asked myself, I said, Shabren, who do you know who has a tendency to muck up people’s plans? Who do you know who likes to snatch girls away? Who do you know who likes bread?”

“Bread?” I scoffed. I was slowly working the knife in my other sleeve out of its holster. Inch by inch, I was slipping it into my palm.

“You stole a bag of bread when you brought that lizard down on our camp. But I don’t see a lizard here.”

“That’s ‘dragon’ not lizard,” I muttered, but I was thinking.

Bread. He must have had a spy planted at the bakery. I’d been stuffing my face with bread that morning while some hidden rat brought him word of my location. Could it have been the man in blue? I’d been happily shopping for gear while Shabren was making his way here. Careless fool! Now, I was at his mercy.

“It’s whatever I say it is, boy.”

Pain shot through my arm. Pain so intense that the knife in the hand he held fell from my grip to land silently in the snow. Shabren threw a hand over my mouth, blocking my screams and shoved me back against the stone wall of the building as wave upon wave of pain tore through me.

“Tough,” he muttered. “Tougher than anyone would guess.”

I fought the pain, slipping the dagger the rest of the way out of the sleeve of my free hand and down into my grip so I could strike. My hand arced around, jabbing the knife up at him, but he knocked it easily to the side. I shuddered under the waves of pain, coughing wildly as it choked the life out of me.

I would die here in the snow at the hands of Shabren. Panic swept over me, choking out thought. I was going to die. Each heartbeat thudded through me - a loud surprise – as if they were trying to be noticed before they were gone.

He released me so suddenly that I slumped against the wall, unable to move, unable to breathe. My vision narrowed to darkness. I fought against it feebly. Whatever he had done – whatever magic he had used – had crippled my mind with pain. I cringed from it still, not even wanting to breathe in case one more breath brought that pain back.

“Where is the girl?” Shabren demanded. “She has the book – I know it!”

“Not here,” I choked out. I’d almost forgotten that Shabren was looking for Hubric’s book.

“Then where?” He raised his hand, ready to strike again.

“Hidden.”

He smiled. “That’s not a problem, rat. We’ll do a little exchange. You know how those work, right? You give me something and I give you something.”

“If you want fashion advice,” I said through gritted teeth, fighting the continued echoes of pain that stiffened my muscles and joints. “You can have it for free. Stop it with the robes. They do nothing for your legs.”

He slapped me so hard my head rang. I spat blood out on the snow, my suddenly fat lips making a mess of trying to spit.

“Save your lip for someone who cares. I have your friend and the dragon.”

I shot of fear spiked through me. Saboraak! But I couldn’t hear her voice ...

Shabren’s bared teeth glinted in the light from the nearby inn. “You can have them back if I get the girls back. Tomorrow before midnight. Fail to arrive, and the next time you see them, they’ll be hanging on the walls of the Jadefire House of Marvels.”

Fear tore through me. I didn’t doubt that he could do exactly what he promised. I let myself slump the rest of the way to my knees, disguising my fumble at my boot. My fingers still felt thick from the pain. I needed to concentrate. If I could pull a knife from my boot ...

“You’re going to bring them to the Bright Redemption and then – ”

My hand whipped out of my boot, lightning fast, flinging the dagger at his chest. It stuck in his shoulder and he stumbled backward with a grunt.

No time to wait! I snatched another one out of my boot just in time. He lunged forward again, lightning crackling from his hand. I flung the dagger. It twisted in the air as his hand shot forward, light erupting around it.

The knife stuck in his palm at the same moment that the lightning struck me, searing my chest for a fraction of a second before it faded. I clutched my chest, fighting for consciousness, my hand fumbling for another dagger, but my arm was too heavy, my fingers too thick. Pain disrupted everything, freezing thought in waves, freezing movement in choking agony.

“You have until tomorrow,” someone said. Someone who made pain. 

I slumped into the snow.

Cold on my face.

Feels good.

Stars up in the black sky.

So pretty.

The world spun. My body was too heavy to move. My eyes too wide to shut. I breathed in but couldn’t breathe out again.

My vision narrowed, the sky growing smaller, smaller, smaller to the smallest pinprick.

And then there were hands on me, gathering me up out of the snow and pulling me onto the lap of someone warm with life.

I closed my eyes and leaned into the sensation of safety. Maybe it would only last a few fleeting seconds. Maybe that was all I had.

Chapter Six

I woke to warmth and softness. My eyes snapped open and I scrambled to sit up. Uh oh. My knives were gone. Not just my knives, but my clothing, too – all except for my breeches – which were soaking wet from melting snow.

“Shhh,” a voice murmured from behind me and I spun to see Zin watching me with a concerned look on her face.

We were in the room in The Frosty Pint, and I was in the bed. Beside Zin, laid out across the floor, were the packages I’d purchased yesterday and my knives. She’d recovered six of them and lined them up in a row. She’d hung my wet clothes around the brazier that warmed the room.

I’d never felt so ... cared for. Not since I was a child. It made me feel uncomfortable.

I swallowed nervously. “Thank you, Zin.”

Her nod was a quick jerk, like a frightened bird might give, but she met my eyes with her golden gaze. I felt my cheeks heat at the surprise of that.

“It must not have been easy to get me up here.”

My head pounded like a drum. The pain making me want to sink back into the bed. Saboraak? Are you there? Still nothing. Wherever they had her, she wasn’t able to talk to me. And that was not good at all. And how would I fool them into thinking I was Bataar if they had him, too? This whole situation was so far beyond my control that I was never going to be able to claw out of it.

“Did you have help?” I asked gently.

She nodded, a ghost of a smile flickering over her lips.

“The innkeeper?”

Another nod.

“Did ... anyone else ... see you bring me here?”

She shook her head, eyes wide.

Perhaps we were safe here. But Shabren had found me here and once someone pulled those knives out of him and patched him up, he’d be back. At least he didn’t see Zin. At least he didn’t catch her.

“We can’t stay here. It’s not safe. They’ll be looking for me.”

She wrapped her arms protectively around her.

“Look, don’t be scared, okay? I’ll keep you safe.”

A ridiculous promise coming from a man who was weak as a kitten – a man she’d had to drag to his bed. But she smiled – a real smile, though a small one.

“I’ll keep you safe, too.”

I couldn’t stop shock from painting my face and her tiny smile deepened a hair at my reaction. She’d spoken real words. Not prophecies. Not crazy talk. Her real thoughts.

I didn’t want to wreck this. It should be Zyla here. Or even Bataar. Definitely Saboraak. Any of them would have known how to handle this better than I did. I was pretty sure that if I said the wrong thing, she’d retreat back into herself. I was too rough of a character –  too boisterous – for the responsibility of healing the broken.

I tried the gentlest smile I could and said, “I think you already have. Thank you.”

Her faint blush as she bit her lip didn’t seem like a bad reaction. She seemed nervous, but that wasn’t bad, right? I hadn’t broken her again. Or at least, I didn’t think I had.

I pulled myself to my feet. I needed to dress and get back outside. There was light shining through the window. I’d been out all night. If I didn’t get moving, I wouldn’t have time to look for Saboraak and Bataar before I had to take Bataar’s place standing up to Apeq.

“I need to go out and look for something,” I said gently. “In the evening, I need to go to the top level of Balde and stand in Bataar’s place to challenge Apeq for the right to rule here.”

She nodded. “Up he goes but can’t come down, not unless he wears a crown.”

I raked my hand through my hair, wincing. She was back to prophecy. I must have said something wrong.

“It’s about you.”

My eyes shot back up to hers. Oh. Not crazy again. Or at least, not yet.

“They’re all about you,” she said shyly.

I laughed. “I doubt that. Bataar says there are prophecies about him, though. Maybe that is one of them.”

“It’s almost evening now,” she said simply.

I felt like the breath was knocked out of me. No, no, no! It couldn’t be! I rushed to the window, pulling back the thick curtain and looked out the narrow slit to the world beyond. She was right. The streets had the subdued action of late afternoon, of business winding down and people growing less focused. The sun hung low in the sky – not quite sunset yet, but far from noon.

I’d lost a whole day. I was out of time. I needed to decide – and decide right now! – what I was going to do.

Should I keep my promise to Saboraak and go to the Seat of Judgment in Bataar’s place, or should I search for Saboraak and Bataar? They could be in trouble. They could be hanging from a ceiling somewhere, their souls being channeled into items ...

But I wouldn’t know where that was. Could I even find it before midnight? The people who would know would be at that ceremony – Apeq for sure, and maybe even Shabren. I stared at the sun, low in the sky, counting out hours in my head. I barely had time to make it to Balde before dusk, never mind to find Saboraak or Bataar in a massive tri-peaked city.

I didn’t really have a choice. It was go in Bataar’s place and try to see what I could do, or fret and busily search for something I had no hope of finding.

I sighed.

“I’m afraid that I’m going to need your help again, Zin.”

Chapter Seven

We hitched a yudazgoat ride to the peak of Balde. I’d noticed the carts carrying passengers all day when I was out searching for the supplies. It was faster than traveling by foot for two reasons – the yudazgoats could pull cargo up steep inclines at the same pace they could walk across a boardwalk, and the cargo tracks did not need to pass every house and business or weave between squares and statues. They simply went in straight lines from one hub to the next. Passengers sat in special carts constructed with high-backed benches that pivoted to accommodate the steep pitches and angles.

Even with that mindful construction, the journey had been nerve-wracking. I could see why Ko’Torenthians used the passenger carts so rarely. The way the seats tipped and pivoted made me ill and the sheer heights and drops were made even worse when I realized my whole life depended on the surefootedness of a bad-tempered cart animal.

We were carrying everything we owned – which was precious little – in the small packs I’d acquired – under our Kav’ai clothing. Our loose trousers tucked into knee-high soft boots and our heads and faces swathed in veils. The clothing was probably very effective in the desert. On the mountain, it was miserably cold, even with thick cloaks for protection.

Flaming Bataar and his flaming prophecies!

I felt guilty for the thought. Bataar was in trouble somewhere and he needed my help. I shouldn’t be cursing his name. But why did he challenge Apeq at all? Why get into a war over the leadership of a nation he hated?

I knew what I was doing. I was distracting myself from thinking about what came next. After all, even I had to admit that anything that could prevent war was worth trying. I’d seen war. Images flooding my mind at the very thought of the word – people screaming as fire consumed them. Bodies dashed to the side by raging dust demons. I clamped my eyelids tightly and shoved the thoughts away. The effort left me shaky and breathing hard. No, war was not something I could stomach again.

But I hated the thought of standing up on that horrible platform again with Zin beside me. I was worried about her. Worried about me. Worried about failing.

Zin was going to find Zyla in the crowd – I was betting she’d be there – and see if Zyla knew where Bataar and Saboraak were being held. She should be able to move unnoticed with all eyes on me. Or at least, that was the plan. It was the best plan I could think of to keep her safe.

I shivered. It was the part where all eyes were on me that had me nervous as a rat in lantern light. I didn’t even know what I was going to say or do. I was just going to have to wing it.

Unfortunately, the veil ruled out charming smiles, though I’d tucked my daggers into my sleeves and boots with care. It was too bad that I’d lost two right away. I would probably need every one I could get if things went bad. Six left. Six to use with care.

Zin laid a delicate hand on my arm. I tried to smile confidently at her – she must be nervous! – but the veil was in the way, so I settled on patting her hand. I’d warned her that if things went south – if it looked like I wouldn’t get out alive, then she should run to Zyla. I was pretty sure that firecracker of a girl would take on the whole of Ko’Torenth to keep her sister safe.

I swallowed hard as the yudazgoats crested the slope to the final stop.

“You get off the cart here,” the driver said in a drawl. He was an oddly plain man and he’d barely said a word since we’d hired him. No flare for the dramatic at all. “No carts allowed on the top level but there are stairs here.”

I passed him a coin – the agreed upon price – and helped Zin off the cart. Okay, Tor. Look lively. Things are about to get crazy.

I was already scanning in every direction, looking for danger, trying to ignore the edgy feeling licking at the tips of my nerves.

“The day of walking legends comes. A Legend returned for the north to fill the breach, to stop the leak of souls and death of power,” Zin whispered.

We started up the stairs. There was no one else around, though the buzz of voices and noise of people filled the air above us.

“You sure like those prophecies,” I said, still trying to keep my mind off what I was doing.

“Truth laid bare.

Souls spread out.

Clear the air.

Quell all doubt.

He comes to reign and rule.

He rakes us over fire.

Before him bend the fools.

They plummet from the spire,” Zin quoted.

I left her to it. It seemed to calm her. They meant nothing to me. You could pull anything out of that and say it was the fulfillment of prophecy. I bet there’d be people bowing to the Exalted when we cleared the stairs. That could be bending fools. But, so could people bowing for the headsman’s axe. Or to gather up coins spilled from a slashed purse. Or any number of fool things.   

I was more concerned with real problems and real predictions.

I swallowed, trying to wet my dry mouth and trying really hard not to remember my own predictions. This couldn’t possibly end well for me. Maybe it would end well for Zin if I gambled right. I tried to run my hand through my hair. The thick fabric wrapped around my head blocked the motion and I frowned. I felt ridiculous in this outfit. I felt like an imposter.

We crested the stairs and the sound of a thousand voices fading to silence howled in my ears.

I was an imposter.

I should never have promised to do this. As I scanned the faces lining the boardwalk and looking down from the windows above the carved friezes, my head spinning with the thin air and the terrible anticipation, I knew I shouldn’t have made that promise to Saboraak. Where was my old dragon? I felt like a man missing a hand with her gone. All I had left of her was my promise to her.

And what was a man without his word? I took pride in lies. I was proud of my ability to spin a story. But I’d never go back on a promise. Or at least, I hadn’t ever thought I would.

The crowd parted on either side of me, silent as every eye turned to us. No one was dressed in the Kav’ai fashion today. That trend must feel dangerous on a day like today.

Instead, they all wore the furs and leathers of Ko’Torenth. Many wore an Exalted house crest – flame, smoke, bird, or oak wreath. And many more than I would have expected wore the clothing of the Order of the Oak. There must be a lot of them in high society since common people were warned away from this level and this gathering.

I peered at every face I could see as we slowly walked forward, looking for silver swirls in the eyes of the onlookers, but there were too many faces to check. Here, a long-chinned man wearing oak leaves glared at me. There, a young woman with flushed cheeks drew back in fear. Any of them could be Midnight Artificers, working with Shabren to steal the soul of my dragon.

If I found out which ones they were, I’d give them a reason to pull back.

It took long minutes to traverse the crowd. Why did anyone build a city on a mountain? Gathering a crowd here was miserable. No one could see what was happening. Everyone relied on word of mouth. Worse, it made everyone there vulnerable to attack. We’d seen that with the two golems Shabren had unleashed. Hadn’t these people learned their lesson?

As I drew closer to the Seat of Judgment - the Ko’tor’kaen - my feet felt heavier with every step. It was only Zin’s calm presence beside me that kept me from turning around and going back in the other direction. If she could be calm, surely, I could be calm.

It wasn’t until I was almost upon the strange structure – a platform sticking out from the top tier of Ko’Koren, held up by three arms – that I saw Apeq.

He was smiling slightly as I approached, as if he already knew my secret – knew the sweating boy in the Kav’ai clothing was nothing more than a fraud.

I felt a stab of ice run through me when I saw who was beside him. On one side, was Zyla, looking far too excited to see me. I’d be flattered if I really thought that look was for me, but I was dressed as Bataar and posing as him. I had no idea that the two of them had grown so close.

On the other side, smiling broadly with a look of triumph on his face, was Shabren the Violet. He stood carefully, like he was injured – I guess even he didn’t heal from a knife to the shoulder overnight – and his hand was wrapped with bandages from my thrown knife. Today he wore Apeq’s house crest – the flame. And his eyes swirled with silver.

Chapter Eight

I almost failed to notice the other men and women on either side of Apeq, but now that we were close one of them stepped forward. He was a swarthy man with the Oak Wreath on his chest which made him an Exalted of House Ye’Kut. His thick-cowled cloak and embroidered coat marked him as wealthy, even if someone failed to notice the silver cloak-pin and silver-inlaid bracers.

These others on either side of Apeq must be the other leaders of Exalted Houses. They were equally well dressed, heads held high as if they were too important to hunch against the cold. They stood in groups or knots – whether from the limited room of the boardwalks or because they were divided by faction, who could say? The women were equal with the men and wore equally fine clothing, their hair elaborately dressed in puffs and waves. Together, they made a stern crowd.

The man who stepped forward – Exalted of House Ye’kut - looked eager, his chin held high and his chest still as if he were almost holding his breath.

Before we were fully in earshot, he began to speak to the still crowd. “We gather in the heart of Ko’Koren.”

“Gather,” the people around me intoned together, placing two fingers sticking out from a fist to one shoulder as if in a salute. I almost jumped out of my skin. The nobility in Ko’Koren were some of the creepiest people I’d ever met. Anyone who liked chanting that much needed to be watched.

“We gather as in times of old,” the Exalted of House Ye’kut continued, his dark hair blowing wildly in the wind as small flurries whipped up and then settled in the gusty breeze. At times, his words were strong and loud, and then one or two would be blown away, lost to the wind.

“Gather,” the people echoed, their tone low and lamenting. At least I could follow what was happening in their echoes.

Skies and stars, they were spooky!

And that look Zyla was giving me – like I was some sort of bright hope on a distant horizon. Augh! Flaming Bataar and his flaming good looks and foreign ways. If I’d known she would look at him like that I’d have never let her ... well, it wasn’t like I’d let her, exactly. She’d made that decision on her own. Not that I objected, of course!

And now I was rambling in my own mind trying to avoid the memory of that kiss and how warm and soft it had been. I was as bad as Zin. Maybe worse. I should be watching. I should be paying attention to this ceremony.

A second Exalted stepped forward – a man too fat for this city. Any commoner stayed lean as a snake with all the constant climbing up and down on the stairs and ladders. The smoke swirl on his chest proclaimed him the Exalted of House Gamni. Seeing that smoke swirl made my arms itch where they were marked with the same swirling smoke. The Exalted of House Gamni looked different without his mask. His face had a hungry look despite his heavy frame.

“We gather for justice,” he intoned.

“Justice,” the people agreed, moving their two fingers to stand up in front of their noses as if they were pretending to have beaks.

Go ahead, people, just think the thoughts fed to you. They were as bad as yudazgoats. As bad as Zyla with her hands clenched in her skirts looking taut as a bowstring as she waited for Bataar to acknowledge her. Faugh! She could keep on waiting.

“We gather to ask the Ko’tor’kaen - the Seat of Judgment – to rule over us. To give justice,” Gamni said.

“Justice.”

Woah. Ummm ... rule? That weird thing was going to somehow make a judgment about me? Oh no, no, no. Tor Winespring did not like this turn of events. Here’s the thing, if a guy is going to be judged, its better if it’s by another human. Objects weren’t just. They were just inhuman. By definition. I’d had quite enough inhumanity for one lifetime.

There you are!

My eyes widened as a voice filled my mind. It wasn’t Saboraak. It was a voice I hadn’t heard in a long time.

Kyrowat?

I’ve been searching everywhere for your mind. It helped that you thought your name so clearly.

Ha! My internal monologue was finally worth something.

Zin and I finally drew up the last few paces away from the intoning Exalted. As I came to a halt, I saw from the corner of my eye that she was following our plan. She slipped into the crowd, quietly weaving toward Zyla.

I clenched my jaw. Zyla was one thing. Being that close to Shabren and Apeq was another. But we had to take the risk. We had to gamble.

Are you close, Kyrowat? I could use your help.

In a tight spot, boy?

Clearly. I was here to confront Apeq and he had a lot more people on his side than I did – seeing as I had two and they were twin girls with no power beyond their clever minds.

A third Exalted – this one a woman in a dress marked with a Tanager stepped forward. Her voice was surprisingly resonant for a woman of her years and she towered over the men.

“The Judgment of the Ko’tor’kaen will be accepted by all as final,” she proclaimed in a reedy voice.

“Final,” the people intoned, raising a second hand with two fingers raised and then crossing both arms over their chests.

“The challengers will submit to the ruling.”

“Submit,” the crowd boomed.

Oh boy, I didn’t like the sound of that. Where were Kyrowat and Hubric in all this? Were they close?

Your mind does not feel far. I could almost hear the growl in his voice.

Then where are you?

Hanging around. There was a tinge of irony to the thought.

“Do the challengers wish to speak?” the Exalted of House Tanager asked.

All eyes turned to me.  I shook my head. If I spoke so much as a word I’d be found out – by Apeq at the very least. Shabren and Zyla also knew my voice. I saw Zin leaning close to Zyla, whispering in her ear while the crowd was distracted by the ceremony. Zyla kept her eyes straight ahead, her face blank, and her arms crossed over her chest like everyone else. The perfect Exalted of Ko’Koren.

Apeq raised an arm over his head in a gesture that looked oddly triumphant, two fingers still extended. The woman stepped back and he stepped forward to address the crowd.

If Hubric and Kyrowat could get here before the challenge started, I could scoop the girls up and we could fly to freedom. Could they get here in time?

Do you know a place called the Bright Redemption?

Far too well.

Send Saboraak to us there and then we will come to you.

Wait. Sudden realization sunk through me like a stone through water. They were captives, weren’t they? Captives who were literally ‘hanging around.’ Kyrowat?

It’s embarrassing, but it seems, we need your help.

And there was no Saboraak to help. And I was stuck here for the duration of the challenge. Alone.

Not alone. I’m here. Sort of.

What did Hubric think I should do?

Who knows. He’s out cold. Still alive, I think.

I swallowed against the heavy lump in my throat. The stakes just got higher. Bataar and Saboraak. Hubric and Kyrowat. Everyone needed my help and needed it now. And I was up here in a vice.

Apeq cleared his throat. “You’ve heard my speech before. I will not bore you with many words, brothers and sisters, simply remind you what I fight for today. Our cities depend on magic. Without it, we will crumble and fade from the earth before the next generation is born.

“But, our magic fades. Our chance at recovering what little magic is left in the world is a small one. A small one made impossible by our neighbors to the south who hoard their resources against us. They taunt us with what they still have and what we have lost.

“Ko’Torenth is not a land to be mocked. We are no laughingstock. We will surge south and take what is rightfully ours. We will take from the Dominion the dragons who once belonged to our ancestors – the dragons they have hoarded for far too long. We will resurge and rise from the dust of magic like a dragon erupting from its egg. Strong. New. Powerful.

“But this cannot be done without unity. Without the Ko of the four families united. And this challenger wears Ko. He dares to hold what our Exalted families require to exercise our power. Only one man or woman may wear a Ko at one time. Unless this man gives his up, one of our Exalted families will remain bereft and our nation weaker for their loss. This cannot be allowed to happen.

“Worse. He challenges my plan and my authority to lead you. If he prevails today, all is lost.

“And so, with regret, I bring him before the Seat of Judgment. And as our ancestors were judged by the Ko’tor’kaen, laid bare, and marked by judgment, so I ask the seat to do so now. We have never needed to guess who was deemed worthy by the Ko’tor’kaen before, and we need not worry now. Judgment will be swift. And then our Exalted may take their rightful place.

“May the heart of the hero remain.”

The people echoed him, but not in a dull chant this time. Their call seemed to roar over the city below. They thrust their hands in the air in double-handed two-fingered salutes, just like Apeq’s as they called out the response.

“The heart of the hero!”

“Only the hero will stand,” Apeq bellowed, arms above his head.

“The Hero!” This time the roar reverberated painfully through my ears. I flinched, closing my eyes as if that could stop up my ears.

The Exalted all stepped forward at once. I hoped they couldn’t see how badly I was sweating under this head-wrap.

Saboraak, if I get out of this, you will owe me so big! I felt a twang in my heart at her name. Please be okay, Saboraak!

Together, the Exalted spoke in unison. “Let it begin.”

Chapter Nine

On either side of Apeq, the Exalted stepped forward in pairs. It was strange to see such well-dressed people marching almost like soldiers, their faces as straight as their backs. They lifted Apeq off his feet, carrying him in the basket of their arms while he raised his arms above his head like a hero. They marched at a steady pace toward the Ko’tor’kaen.

I gritted my teeth as another set of the Exalted marched toward me. Those blank faces could make a stone nervous. Hopefully, they wouldn’t feel the daggers sticking out of my boots or the waist of my loose pants. I hadn’t tucked any in my sleeves. I was guessing that they’d want to see those Ko and if I had to expose them, then the arm sheaths would be exposed, too. They were tucked neatly in the small bundle that Zin carried.

The Exalted linked arms and scooped me up without so much as a word or a request for permission. I grunted, feeling strangely like a pig going to the butchers.

I glanced toward Zin, over the heads of the crowd. Had she seen the humiliating way I was being carried?

She and Zyla were huddled together, but every now and then Zyla’s eyes turned to me and the look in them was unreadable. Well, now she knew I wasn’t Bataar. Hopefully, she’d survive the disappointment. I tried not to let my own disappointment affect me. There’s nothing like being kissed by a girl only to find out she prefers someone else.

Girls. They were the worst. Worse even than magic ceremonies and weird, chanting crowds.

Those two girls had better get through this safe or I’d ... I’d ... I’d tell them how disappointed I was, that’s what!

The hands beneath me shifted as the men and women carrying me stepped onto the bridge arm leading to the platform – the Seat of Judgment. They couldn’t have done this anywhere else? Like maybe inside a warm building?

I could feel sweat beading along my hairline despite the cold. But I needed to let them go through with it. Anything else would put those girls at risk and break my promise to Saboraak.

Alright, platform. Do your worst.

I wondered, suddenly, what had happened to my spider when the other Ko’tor’kaen snatched it away. Maybe it belonged to one of the Exalted Houses now – or maybe it was still there, stuck to the apex of the arches as if by magic.

I felt – oddly – as if I had done this before. Was it really so different from when I had run out onto a platform just like this fleeing Shabren only days ago? Really so different from when I leapt from that platform into the air below? Well, this time I didn’t dare do that again. There would be no dragon friend to make my gamble pay off.

Apeq arrived at the center first and I gaped as they pushed him against one of the intersecting arches and manacled his wrists and ankles to the arch so that he was suspended in the air looking over the Ko’tor’kaen platform.

Skies and stars! If they thought – !

But it was too late. The Exalted carrying me were already pushing me up against another arm of the arches, facing Apeq across the gap. I hadn’t signed up for this!

I struggled against them, but too many hands held me in place. My breath burst out in puffs of steam and frustration like a small dragon. Four of them to one of me. Eight strong hands to my one will. I lost so quickly that fighting at all was a waste of time.

They manacled me to the arch, shoving my sleeves down so that the Ko tattooed on them gleamed in the moonlight. And I was left hanging from the arm of the arch like a fool, my forearms freezing in the cold mountain air.

On the walkway off to the side of us, the spectators gasped at my gleaming Ko.

Across from me, Apeq’s arms were also bare, Ko in the pattern of leaping flames shimmering across his skin.

So.

He did have them. Whatever that meant in this time, at this place, we were equally matched.

I swallowed and looked across at him, meeting his gaze, clenching my jaw at his knowing smile. He couldn’t know. He couldn’t possibly realize that I was taking Bataar’s place.

Something whooshed overhead and I strained to look above me. That couldn’t have been a dragon, could it? Maybe one of Saboraak’s doomed friends had stayed to try to save her. Maybe –

My words caught in my throat as I realized that the shadow I saw above me was certainly no dragon.

I squinted, trying to get a better look at its silhouette as it flew across the light of the rising moon.

On the arms of the platform, a person stood on each bridge, arms raised.

“We dedicate these two Ko-bearers to the testing. Test them, Ko’tor’kaen! Sift them and judge which of these two should rule us!” the Exalted of House Tanagers said.

She was standing on the bridge between the Ko’tor’kaen and the boardwalks. All the Exalted had moved off the platform as if to keep it clear for the test.

What a terrible way to choose a ruler – just ask an inanimate object what it thinks. If I were building a culture, this isn’t how I’d do it.

“Tell us,” the Exalted of House Ye’kut intoned. “Which of them has the purest heart!”

Well, that wouldn’t be me. Although I was up against Apeq, so it might be a toss-up.

“Tell us,” the Exalted of House Gamni said. “Which has the courage of a crag cat!”

That might be me. I was definitely more courageous than Apeq who hid behind kidnapped victims and had servants do his bidding.

I looked out across the crowd and froze. Was that Karema in the crowd? I saw her tight movements and stern face angling through the crowd purposefully. She was edging closer to Zin and Zyla. Did she see them? Skies and stars, don’t let her see them!

“Tell us,” the first woman spoke again. “Which man is honorable and will keep his promises.”

Yeah, well no one had ever accused me of being honorable. Maybe Bataar should have been here for this test. As much as he irritated me, he was an honorable sort.

Karema and Shabren locked eyes in the crowd and my belly swirled like it was being mixed with a spoon. What were they planning? How had they crept into the high society of Ko’Koren to plan it?

I needed to get down from this thing and back to Zin before they made a move against her.

The three intoning Exalted spoke in unison as the crowd watched with rapt attention: “Tell us which of these will lead us to glory for Ko’Torenth!”

Well, that sure as Skies and Stars wouldn’t be me. If only they’d just get on with it, so I could fail their test and get the girls out of here. But I was supposed to want to succeed, right? To want to stop a war?

I looked up into the black sky as I wished for their safety, almost praying in my worry for them. If only I were a better man, the kind who could save girls and stop wars. The kind who could stand up here and be certain he’d win because he was just that kind of great guy.

Something in the sky was glowing red, a pinprick of light against a black infinity.

Chapter Ten

“Begin!” the chanting people said together, and then in unison, the Exalted on the bridges grabbed the edges of the closest arches with both hands. I felt something pulsing and almost painful surround my wrists and ankles as the manacles tightened. Light filled the platform and shot up along the intersecting arches to halo the structure in crackling blue light.

I felt a moment of panic, my chest tightening and my breath growing quicker as something like a cold tentacle seemed to be writhing through the inside of me, like the arm of something searching and flipping through me looking for answers. I squirmed at the mental image.

Was it the arches? Were they reaching inside me to find answers to those questions the Exalted had asked?

And then I couldn’t hold a thought in place as my mind was suddenly overwhelmed by a thousand sensations.

I was Tor Winespring, living in Vanika, only my mother hadn’t died, and we lived together. I worked for the city guard and fought for Vanika when the Dusk Covenant attacked the city. I died saving a young mother and her child – a pair who lived on the streets just as I would have if my mother hadn’t found that job at the chandler and saved us both. I felt the pain and then the cold as the life leaked out of me and then I was gasping in the grasp of the tentacles again.

What was that? It had felt so real. Not like a story told me, but like I had actually lived a full lifetime in the blink of an eye. I could still feel the pain of dying in the attack, still feel the panic of not being able to save my guardsmen as they died around me. Was I this Tor hanging from a strange device or the other Tor living the life I’d so often wished I’d had?

I blinked against the confusion and pain of being ripped from one life into another and then back again. Across from me, Apeq’s eyes were wide and his mouth open. Maybe the life he was living wasn’t quite so nice.

I didn’t have time to feel sympathy – even if I was inclined to.

The tentacle gripped me harder, squeezing me into another life. I blinked as memories of things I’d never done, people I’d never known flooded through me. I was Tor Winespring, fabled Dragon Rider, but I wasn’t riding Saboraak. I’d never met Hubric, never been recruited by him. I’d gone to Dragon School on my own and survived the perils of training there. I’d chosen a red dragon – a gnarled, proud creature with a powerful set of jaws. We were fighting the Ko’Torenth invasion together on the northern border of the Dominion. I felt the pride of that, and the tempering of years of training. Deep affection soared through me for my dragon and my fellow Dragon Riders. And with it came a loyalty so deep, a commitment so strong to the health of the Dominion that it dwarfed any feelings I’d had in my past life. I’d had another life? Why did I think that?

“Steady, riders!” my captain shouted as we shivered in the bracing wind. “Wait for the signal.”

Before us, thousands of dark figures swarmed across the earth. Golems, I knew. Strange creatures of enchantment devised by the foreigners of Ko’Torenth. We were the last defense between them and our Dominion. I’d watched as they trampled a farmer’s field an hour ago. Watched them mow down fields of crops, a home, livestock, all with neither compassion nor cruelty, just the single-focus of a thing that neither was alive nor dead.

Flying golems swarmed over their creeping army, fish-like in shape, defying all understanding. We’d tried to puzzle out how they could fly at all. “Magic” was the only answer and it was not at all satisfying. Perhaps a Magika would understand better. For now, we need only beat them back.

The signal came, and we charged forward. Ieerkan – my glorious Red dragon – flamed confidently as wave upon wave of black creatures washed forward. We were holding our own, snatching the creeping creatures from the earth and dashing them to the ground – and then suddenly we weren’t. A flying golem soared past, it’s jaws opening to clamp down on Ieerkan’s wing.

He screamed in pain jerking under me so hard that I lost my grip on the saddle and reins, the world whirling beneath me. We were spinning through the air like a kite that hit a tree. My gaze sought for allies – for help of any kind, but there wasn’t a figure alive on the ground or in the air that wasn’t the black of the golems.

Across the landscape, golems rushed over the heaps and mounds of fallen dragons and riders. My breath gusted out as I drew my sword, ready to fight for Ieerkan.

I was still slashing and thrusting, ignoring my fears. I must not fail. The Dominion was counting on me. Dozens of flying creations swarmed us until all I saw was black figures and gaping mouths. And then the ripping began. First my leathers, then my skin, then my very life – ripped to a thousand pieces.

I gasped as the arches came back into view. The feeling of tentacles crawling through me seemed to choke the breath out of me. I could barely catch it anyway. I’d felt that death, felt the terrible disappointment of failure as I died, felt my dragon heave and gasp and die. I was shaken within. I was broken down. I could barely grasp that it hadn’t been real. That was impossible. If that wasn’t real, then what was real at all?

Across from me, Apeq was choking on his own horror, his mouth open and eyes shut as he gasped for air.

I turned to the side, meaning to be sick, when another vision took hold of me. I was married to Zin. I loved her dearly. Our home was a happy one of good smells and clean clothes and warm fires. We were raising children on a small farm, their little faces like tiny versions of hers, their huge eyes as golden as hers. And then the golems came in the night, snatching Zin and my children from me and shredding their fragile bodies.

This time I was sick. The veil that had shrouded me only making the mess worse.

I shook so hard that my wrists and ankles rattled in the loose manacles. I was still that Tor. And the Tor who died fighting golems. And the Tor who died defending his city. And this Tor who was almost certain to die right now. I was all of them and none of them.

The tentacles squeezed, and I watched Saboraak die in agony and then followed her into death, a black cough shaking me apart.

They squeezed again and I watched my mother live and die and live again. I was married to Zyla. I was married to Zin. I had children. I didn’t have children. I fought as a soldier. I died as a spy. I rotted in prison as a thief.

I tried not to remember the next vision, or the next, or the next. Each one a life that felt real as I lived it from beginning to end. Each one sparked by the tentacles.

I hated them. I wanted them out of my mind. I needed them out!

Out! Out! Get out!

And then a familiar voice sounded in my mind, like a bucket of spring water thrown over my head, like the sun dawning after the worst of nights.

Tor?

My eyes shot open and I coughed, gasping in a real breath for the first time in what felt like forever.

Tor? Are you okay?

Saboraak!

She was alive!

Chapter Eleven

I could still feel her thoughts echoing through me – still feel the way that they pushed the tentacles back.

I only have moments. Come to us. We are through the Door of Heavens.

Which one?

Any one. Hurry.

I could feel her slipping away and the tentacles clawing back when, at the same moment, Apeq began to scream. The Ko on his arms crinkled, shriveled and fell to the ground leaving angry red skin where they had been. Blood dripped from them to the floor below.

The manacles released him and with a cry, he fell to the ground.

I felt the manacles release me and my breath whooshed out as I fell to the stone platform, barely managing to get my arms and legs into position to land without injury. I hissed as one of my wrists sent a flare of pain up into my forearm. Maybe my position wasn’t all that good after all.

I glanced toward the crowd, but I’d lost my view of Zyla and Zin. Please be okay, girls! Please don’t do anything dumb. Because making yourself the center of attention during a succession war wasn’t dumb at all, right Tor? I was more a fool than anyone. I felt it even worse now that I knew who I could have been – what I could have been. I could have been a lot of things. And almost all of them were better than who I was.

But Saboraak was okay. I needed to remember that. And Hubric and Kyrowat would be fine if I could just get to them in time. And Zyla and Zin –

Rough hands gripped the front of my coat, wrenching me to my feet. I hung in their grip, dizzy and wobbly like a newly born kitten. I was new-born. Born again in this world. Born with a new understanding of what it meant to live.

The light flaring over the arches was gone.

“He is marked,” a voice called out loudly and I shivered.

Of course, I was marked. I’d never be the same. I was scarred by this for life.

Someone was tending Apeq’s arms, low whispers passing between the two of them as they bound the wounds on his arm.

I thought that, perhaps, I had won. It didn’t feel like a win. Not with the crowd silent. Not with the leaders whispering so furiously with Apeq. There was a tension in every face. Their eyes lingered on me like they couldn’t look away, but there wasn’t a happy face in the crowd. There wasn’t a single cheer or salute.

The man who had pulled me to my feet pulled the veil from my face and head, tossing it aside. Relief filled me as the vomit-soaked scarf left my face, but it was quickly replaced by nervous fear.

They were not supposed to see my face.

There was a sound around us of indrawn breath and a low laugh from where Apeq stood shakily on his side of the platform.

Uh oh.

His grin, as his gaze shifted to me, was malevolent.

“It is with deep sadness,” he said as he turned to the people, his voice as loud as he could project it. “That I proclaim my opponent to be an imposter.”

Murmurs rose in the crowd like bubbles in a swamp.

“He is not Bataar Bayanen, son of Mynaar, son of Lataar, Chief of the Stone Basin Kav’ai as he claimed. Our ancestors may have marked him, but they did not know who they were marking. They did not know he was a false claimant.”

The murmurs grew louder.

“And since he is false, his marks are false.”

The murmurs sounded like agreement. I tensed. They were definitely agreement. All eyes had turned to Apeq.

“I appeal to the Exalted Houses,” Apeq said, hands flung open, droplets of blood scattering across the skim of drifting snow on the stone platform. “Judge for us what the Seat could not because of this deception! Will you follow this imposter, or will you follow me? Will you be fools mocked by his trickery, or choose to punish him for it? I will lead you to victory and glory. He can offer you nothing but empty lies. Choose today who you will follow.”

Was he kidding?

“You can’t be serious,” I said, loudly. “The Ko peeled from your arms like it was shrinking from your lies. Whatever happened here, it doesn’t give you the right to take over this country!”

Apeq laughed. “I am Apeq A’kona of the House of Flames. I need no Ko to lead my house. I certainly do not need your fakery. Tell me, boy, how have you manufactured your marks? We know they are not real.”

What was he talking about? The Ko were still on my arms. They hadn’t changed at all.

I looked down at them.

“Not the marks on your arms. The marks on your face,” Apeq said, a look of disdain on his face.

I gasped. My face? It had marked my face? Well, that was just great. Thank you for that, arches. Just when I thought they couldn’t violate me anymore, they found one more way to do it!

There was a hushing sound as the elders raised their hands from around the Ko’tor’kaen. Above us, something whooshed on the sky. I looked up to see two silhouettes swoop past the moon, crossing each other’s paths. What was up there?

Those were not dragons.

The Exalted Houses spoke as one, their hands still raised.

“The Seat of Judgment has spoken.

I sagged with relief. I would live to fight another day. I saw Zin in the crowd, slipping forward through the still figures, moving toward the arm-like bridges as if she was planning to come to me. Hold on, Zin! I’d be free soon. They were granting me freedom.

The Exalted looked at each other, as if conferring by looks alone and then one of them spoke loudly so that it was all could hear.

“When the time has come, and the shadows grow long, you will know it.

When the tanager cries for change and the flame responds, you will sit.

Together you will decide the fate of your children and grandchildren.

But have a care. Smoke lies in wait for the fates of men.

Do not be blinded. Do not be deceived,” she paused from her chant and then spoke clearly. “These are the words of Ver’ko, the Wise One from the time when we dwelled on flat ground. The boy bears the smoke Ko. I will respect her words. I will not be blinded.”

“House Tanager will not be deceived,” one of the Tanager Exalted called out. “No false crown will blind our eyes.”

Uh oh. The votes were against me. Tanager motioned and a pair of guards with drawn swords crossed the bridge and trotted to my side, holding their sword points under my chin. I raised my hands in surrender. No point giving them an excuse to slit my throat. They looked twitchy and one false move could spell my death. I would have backed up, but there was nowhere to go. Behind me was nothing but a drop off the edge of the platform.

“House Ye’kut has also not been deceived. But he may live and lead us yet.”

That was more promising. The sword points lowered slightly, still threatening, but not as likely to suddenly give me that close shave I’d been dying to try.

The Exalted who had quoted her Wise One smiled. “Yes. With a leap of faith.”

Sure. I could have faith. I could work with that.

The guards smiled. That couldn’t be good. They stepped forward and I took a wobbling step back, my heel hitting the rim of the platform.

“If you wish to live, you must prove you are chosen by the ancestors, imposter! Leap from this platform and if you live, we will spare you.”

Sure. Like I’d do that. I could see how that was a foolproof plan for them. They got rid of me one way or another.

The shape darted across the moon again, this time taking longer to cross the silver light. I looked up at it, swallowing. If only it were a dragon. If only it was there to catch me when I fell – but the only dragon who would do that was Saboraak, and she was stuck somehow behind the doorway.

“But before that, we must have your promise, House A’kona,” the Exalted woman said. “Do you have the strength to defend us? Will you be able to lead this land in power?”

At least no one was forcing me to leap off the platform. Not yet, at least.

“I had planned to wait to reveal to you what I have accomplished,” Apeq’s voice boomed. “But now seems to be the perfect time to call my allies forward.”

He motioned and Shabren and Karema pushed through the guards at the end of the bridges. I gasped as they cleared the crowd and came into view.

Karema pushed Zyla in front of her and judging by the tight look on Zyla’s face, she was being held somehow by the other woman. I tried to look for Zin, but the guards shoved their sword points closer to my exposed neck. This time, I didn’t dare swallow. I almost didn’t dare to breathe.

It wasn’t until Karema stepped off the bridge with Zyla and moved to stand beside Apeq that I realized why Shabren was grinning so widely. He had Zin by the scruff of her neck in one powerful hand and the tiny book of prophecies in the other.

Chapter Twelve

“These Magikas,” Apeq said proudly, “have brought us three things of value. And thanks to their help, we now have the resources that we need to overrun our enemies to the south and finally claim their dragons as our own. With the dragons to fuel the magical devices I am building, we will be a nation unparalleled in strength.”

“A strong claim,” the Exalted of House Ye’kut said, “but it is only a claim. Why should we choose you over the boy marked by our ancestors and the Seat of Judgment? What are these other two advantages?”

“I welcome your critique, House Ye’kut,” Apeq said with an oily smile. “I welcome it because it is easy to answer. The Magikas bring with them a strange tool.”

Apeq motioned to Shabren who reached into his pocket and threw a handful of grey dirt across the floor.

“We have our own dirt,” Ye’kut said dryly.

“This comes from the Kav’ai. They have been holding out on us. But these Magikas found a cave in which they were storing this, close to our southern border.”

There had been strange grey dirt in barrels at Shabren’s camp. I remembered that now. They had been in the tent Bataar had lit on fire to provide a distraction. Grey dirt, lambswool, and long tubes.

Apeq held out a hand to a nearby guard who was holding a lantern. “If I may?”

The guard passed him the lantern and Apeq reached into his pocket, extracted a long splinter, lit it in the lantern and then threw it onto the line of grey dirt. Fire flared up along the line.

“Dragon fire!” someone gasped.

I looked up from the fire to see Zyla twisting in Karema’s grip to look at me. She met my gaze and then looked pointedly behind me. If she thought I was going to jump with no dragon to catch me, she could think again. I could feel wind behind me like one of those creatures had passed close by. Perhaps she didn’t realize it was no dragon.

Ye’kut crossed his arms. “I can see the potential. What about the third advantage?”

Apeq gestured grandly at Zyla and Zin. “I have in my possession the daughters of Arvid the Artificer.”

The sudden surprise on a dozen faces of the Exalted made my eyes narrow. They knew Zyla and Zin’s parents?

“He and his family died in an accident,” one of the Exalted said. “His secrets are buried with him – wherever that grave may be.”

Apeq laughed. “His daughters still know them. And they will help me to craft weapons from this grey dirt like you have never seen. Weapons that do not rely on magic. Weapons to rival the fire of dragons.”

Now there was a stillness over the audience.

“All this you could do without claiming to rule over us,” Ye’kut said calmly. “All this we could do without you.”

“But not this.” Apeq snapped his finger and something roared behind me. I spun to see one of the dark shapes coming right for me.

Sweat broke out across my entire body. I’d seen this creature coming for me before – but not in this world! – in the world the Seat of Judgment had shown me. It was these creatures I’d faced in battle with my trusty Red dragon. It was these creatures who had slaughtered us with their snapping bites and their massive jaws. These creatures who defied all common sense in being able to fly at all. Imagine the magic you’d have to harness to make that happen? But would it be harder than making a carpet fly?

It was hard to say. I knew nothing of magic. If I had my way, it would all die out from the earth. It caused nothing but trouble, hubris, and pain.

The creature had more head than body, no proper legs at all. Its massive snapping mouth and the saddle carved in the metal of the creature that stood out prominently on its neck reminded me of the wolf-golems. It was made to be ridden and made to kill and not much else. Those bright red eyes glowed in the dark of the night.

I shuddered from the memories of hundreds of creations just like that tearing into my friends, tearing into my dragon, tearing into me. The idea of battling one of those things on the back of Saboraak was nerve-wracking. Who would dare to ride something like that? It would be worse than riding the golem wolf. There would be no way to make it land and no guarantee that you could slide off and run clear before it shredded you to pieces.

The creature dodged at the last moment, almost brushing the arches with its slick metal belly. It was made of segmented metal pieces that gave it an almost snake-like or fish-like movement. Gasps and shrieks filled the air as it darted over our heads and took again to the sky. Even the guards on either side of me licked their lips, the ends of their weapons quavering.

“I promised you golems, Ye’kut,” Apeq declared, projecting his voice for all to hear. “And you thought I meant shambling clay. I present to you my dragon golems. There are only a handful now, but in days I will have a dozen more. In weeks, I could have an army of them.”

If a Dragon Rider’s soul was used to make one of those fire sticks, what sort of a soul would be used to create a golem like that? I shivered as the answer came to me, but it wasn’t fear that rose up in my belly as it reverberated through my head and settled into my spine, into my fists, into my clenched jaw and rigid belly.

It was fury.

Because there was only one kind of soul that could make a faux dragon. There was only one kind of soul he could have stolen again and again – that he planned to steal again from Kyrowat and my Saboraak and all the dragons she had freed – the soul of a free dragon.

My hands were shaking and my head was light when the golem dragons spun around again to pass, this time sweeping level with the platform.

“Are you with me?” Apeq demanded.

The golems had been so close when they passed that time that I almost felt them brush against the backs of my legs. Being stuck between whizzing metal dragons and two sword blades was worse than any ‘rock and hard place’ you could imagine.

I clenched and unclenched my hands. I’d heard Apeq’s plan. I’d seen the people’s reactions and I knew one thing for sure: I was in trouble.

Worse, all my allies were in trouble, too, and they all needed me to save them. It was time to stop standing around hoping for some luck. A man had to make his own luck most of the time – usually hobbled together out of broken dreams, misconception and a whole lot of gumption.

I clenched my jaw and waited.

The dragon golems were circling again. I followed them with my eyes as the Exalted replied in unison to Apeq’s demand. They were making one of their ridiculous hand signs again. Did they spend their spare afternoons inventing those?

“We are with you!” they yelled together.

As if a dam had burst, the people began to cheer – first just one or two calls, then building to a raging storm of praise.

“The House of Flame!”

“Apeq A’kona!”

“Victory for Ko’Torenth!”

“Glory to the House of Flame!”

Some people would cheer for just about anything. Even their own doom.

They might even cheer for what was about to happen next.

I tensed, bracing myself as the dragons finished their loop, they were moments from drawing level with us again. I sucked in a deep breath, spun in place like a top, trying to avoid the brush of the sword tips of the startled guards. I crouched.

As the dragon golems passed again – this time a little below the platform I launched myself through the air, leaping onto the back of the nearest one, my hands grasping for the saddle pommel.

Chapter Thirteen

I didn’t let out that huge breath until my hands gripped the pommel securely and my leg found a metal stirrup ridge, the other leg kicking over the wide metal back to land me securely in the saddle.

I was insane. Clearly.

The dark metal of the golem’s body rippled under me as it darted upward. It felt strange – the rhythm wrong and not at all like the steady thrum of dragon wings or the long soars where we caught the drafts and hung in the air for a moment like the wind was embracing us. No, this was more like the way a fish swam in darting bursts, it’s tail swishing powerfully through the water. There was also something not right about it. As if I could feel in my bones that it was made of magic and death instead of flesh and life. It made my skin creep.

No time to dwell too deeply on that. Now, I needed a plan beyond just ‘what if I jumped on that thing?’ Below me, the crowd was yelling, hands pointing in the air. I thought I could hear Apeq bellowing over the rest.

Ha! At least I’d surprised him. If I died now, at least he’d had his big moment spoiled by a kid on a golem. I grabbed the pommel and looked down at the platform below. In the middle of the chaos was a small puddle of stillness where Zin – ignored by her captors in the chaos – stood perfectly still, looking up at me with wide golden eyes.

I couldn’t just fly away and leave her. Not even if I knew how. They would imprison her again. They’d said the girls were valuable for what they knew – and that was probably why Apeq had been wooing Zyla – but Vern Redgers had already told me that Zin was expendable to them. Her mind – clearly damaged by what had happened to her – was too broken to be used. They saw no value in her.

I did.

I remembered seeing a painted glass once – a lantern cover for some Castelan somewhere. A tiny flower had been painted on the glass in three simple strokes. A flower, opening to the sun and tossed by the wind, its delicate petals soft to the touch – rendered perfectly in three little white lines. That was Zin. She was as deep and rich as anyone, just painted in simple brush strokes.

And I wouldn’t leave her here. Not when she’d had faith in me to save her. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t anything like that. It was just ... I didn’t think a person could have good glowing in them at all if they didn’t feel soft toward her. I needed to get this golem spun around so we could swoop overhead and scoop her up.

Now, how did I steer? There were no reins, and this creation clearly had a mind of its own, but ahead of the pommel were a pair of shafts the length of my hand sticking up from the spine of the golem. Perhaps, they controlled it somehow.

I gritted my teeth and reached for them. This could end very badly.

Gripping them in my fists, I gently eased one forward. We dove sharply, and I tried to correct, shooting back in the saddle and barely keeping my seat at all as the golem rocked backward again. That was close. I leveled off again, trying the other lever. A small movement from me and we swung right, another and we swung left. If I was going to steer with these, I would need to learn to be more subtle.

We were swinging around to the platform again and I tried to tweak the levers to get the golem lined up better.

There was Zin in the crowd. She reached out for me and I leaned forward. I would be close. We might manage it! I was counting the seconds, waiting for the chance. I reached one hand out, the other gripping the pommel as I soared over the platform just a hand’s breadth above the heads of those below. We were drifting lower yet and guards and Exalted threw themselves to the floor or out of our paths.

Zin stayed steady and true, her hand reaching out. A tiny smile on her lips. A steady look in her eye.

I reached for her hand as I passed, but just when we were about to touch, she was pulled back, her fingertips grazing mine, shoving a scrap of cloth into my hand. I looked past her in shock. Zyla was pulling her backward by the waist. A determined look filled Zyla’s eyes as she mouthed the word, “Go!”

Her eyes swirled with a tiny hint of silver.

I felt a chill rush through me as she pulled her sister further back, a determined look in her steely eye. What was she doing? She couldn’t possibly keep her sister safe on her own. Perhaps, she wasn’t even trying. Perhaps, she had changed allegiances. Perhaps, she had never been with me in the first place. She nodded her head firmly, looking past me, and I couldn’t tell if she was nodding to someone else or instructing me to look.

I turned in the saddle just in time to see Shabren flinging himself onto the back of the other flying golem, and then we were rocketing upward again and I was choking on the speeding air, trying to catch my breath. I felt like someone had punched me in the gut.

She’d betrayed me. Betrayed us all.

Ignoring Shabren, I worked the controls, trying to get the dragon spun around for another try. It fought my guidance – or perhaps I was just inept at directing the massive creation. We plunged down, pulling up at the last minute, rocketing too quickly to the right – and then we were aimed at the platform again.

I scanned it, looking for Zin. The platform and the boardwalks beyond it were chaos. People ran screaming in every direction, a mass of pushing bodies and flailing limbs. And somewhere in its depths, Zin and Zyla had disappeared.

An icy chill washed over me, but it didn’t reach my plunging heart. It was falling, falling, falling to a place it could never land.

I raked a hand through my hair, not knowing what to do next, when suddenly the golem shook under me and we were shoved forward. I grabbed the pommel with both hands, heart in my throat as we were hit a second time from behind.

I looked over my shoulder.

Shabren rode the other golem, a look of determination stretched across his face.

Well, I’d gambled on being able to ride this thing. Maybe I could fight with it, too. Shabren certainly was.

Chapter Fourteen

What worried me most during the wild ride was the thought that Shabren might pull the magic back out of the golem I was riding at any moment and I would plunge to my death on the back of an empty shell of metal.

But what had my attention riveted more urgently were the fireballs.

The first one shot across the front of the golem, splashing his gaping mouth with burning magenta flame. The golem continued on, unfazed by the fire. I was the only one flinching at the assault, pulling at the levers wildly.

We careened to the side in a tail-swishing swipe and I felt the tail connect with something hard, jolting me in the saddle. I spun enough to see we’d flattened the top story of a building. Snow and roof tiles rained from the sky as we passed, and screams erupted from below.

Our flight took on a jerky motion over the walkway as I struggled to guide the golem.

I tucked the scrap of cloth Zin had passed me into my sleeve and fought the sticks for control. We plunged forward, the golem’s mouth opening to swipe at a hanging banner at the same moment that its belly slewed through a fleeing crowd, slipping through writhing bodies like a great fish through river weeds.

My heart was in my throat, my blood so hot that I didn’t feel the cold as we bounced off the walkway and careened through two yudazgoats and their cart. The cart flew off its rails, cartwheeling down the track to the level below, coal spilling from it like a black snowfall.

The golem bucked under me and I yanked hard on the controls, forcing us upward and nearly colliding with the belly of Shabren’s golem. I ducked as we passed under it, my golem’s tail clipping the other golem as we passed.

Shabren cursed violently, yelling as we passed, “This isn’t your magic boy, and it’s not your world! Go back where you came from and enjoy a few peaceful months before we invade!”

Yeah, that was likely. I’d just give up and wander off while they did what they wanted to Zin and Hubric and Kyrowat.

I wondered if Kyrowat could still hear me. I wondered if he could give me any hints about where he was.

It’s patched. There are canvasses hanging over one wall as if it was ripped apart by a giant.

A green fireball rocketed past, narrowly missing me but setting my cloak aflame. I beat at the fire as the green magic splashed across the front of a bakery. The bakery made a fump sound and burst into orange flame like a torch.

Unfortunately, patched and ruined buildings were becoming the norm in Ko’Koren – and a lot of that was tied to me. Where would I find one in so many?

I jammed the levers and spun the golem around moments before we collided with the fire. Wow! That worked! I should remember that maneuver.

I’d lost the girls. They could be anywhere in that chaotic crowd.

On the top level, the Exalted Houses and their guards had formed up in a disciplined manner after the initial chaos, but I wasn’t even sure what level Shabren and I were on now. We were darting and weaving up and down, left and right. I was just lucky I hadn’t completely crashed yet. That luck had better not run out!

I shoved the lever and we burst upward in time to avoid the green burst of flame Shabren sent at us.

I was getting better at up and down and left and right, but I was worried. I hadn’t seen anything yet that controlled speed. There wasn’t a button marked ‘press here to stop golem’ or even an arcane symbol or glowing dent. I had a bad feeling that I might live the rest of my life on the back of this golem and a worse feeling that my life might be measured in terrified minutes.

I swallowed down that worry, leaning low over the golem’s neck. We were dodging Shabren’s fireballs. He had all the initiative and I was stuck responding. No one could win like that. Time to turn the tables.

I flew straight toward him, head on, steering around the fireballs, but not letting up in my pursuit of the Magika who had started all of this. I didn’t have fireballs. I didn’t have magic.

What I did have was a big crazy golem underneath me, flying in improbable ways. And that could be a weapon. Especially if you aimed it right at someone and didn’t let up until you hit them.

We plunged forward toward Shabren, each second eating up the distance between us. Shabren’s expression was grim and he tried to dodge, but I shifted the levers, turning with him. We were so close to crashing. So close.

He let off a sudden fireball that smashed across my golem’s mouth, coating it with burning fire.

For an animate creature, it would have been fatal. With a magical creation made of metal, it was just a gaudy decoration. Come on, golem!

We plunged forward but suddenly something was wrong with the golem under me. It shuddered and dropped in the air, falling to the next level and the next. Something inside it was whining. It sounded a lot like me.

Something new hit us from behind and we cartwheeled to the other side of the mountain, scrambling for control, desperate to level off.

We were losing altitude. I could see the Jadefire House of Marvels as we passed it, falling. We’d reached the Eski peak in our crazed journey. I could see that square where the man with silver eyes had been torn apart.

We were still falling.

I looked up to right myself and saw Shabren following me, diving instead of falling, his eyes tight as he pushed into the breeze.

The man was mad. Anyone who chose to make a metal mockery of a dragon was mad and this one – this crazed human made of pure vengeance - was the worse of the bunch.

We plunged past the Bright Redemption and I shivered as I remembered the night I fell from there, through the ruined wall of the building.

The ruined wall that someone had covered with canvas and rope.

I gasped.

Chapter Fifteen

I had to give it to the Midnight Artificers – they were consistent. Where they stored one captive dragon, they could store another, right? It would be extremely hard to get a dragon into the depths beneath the Jadefire House of Marvels, but putting one in the massive storehouse beneath the Bright Redemption would be child’s play.

Now, if I could just get this contraption steered around. I tugged at the levers, fighting for control over the falling golem. Flying it was nothing like flying a living, breathing dragon with a will of its own. This thing was made by magic and ... wait.

It was made out a dragon’s soul, too –  if my theory was right. That meant that somewhere in there was a tiny, flickering piece of a real dragon.

I sawed the levers back and forth and shoved out my thoughts as hard as I could. If you can hear me in there, dragon, can you lend me some help? A little help?

Our fall slowed, and the dragon began to level off, circling in a jerky, rough manner. I swallowed hard, clenching my frozen fingers around the metal levers and biting my lip until I tasted blood as we slowly climbed upward.

I felt the first drop of rain a moment later. It was cold as ice but still liquid and it hit the back of my neck and slipped down my spine. I shivered, my core suddenly freezing cold. Other raindrops were falling around us, freezing as soon as they hit the golem or the boardwalks or anything inanimate. Rain like that in these freezing temperatures could be deadly – especially to someone who was already struggling to keep his seat on a metal golem.

We were swirling upward slowly, my tailbone smashing painfully against the metal back of the golem with every jostling bump as he struggled to climb.

Come on, dragon soul! I know you’re in there. There’s the heart of a grand, buoyant dragon in there somewhere!

It was probably just my imagination that he seemed to fly better when I thought those things. Probably – but maybe not. I’d better keep it up just in case.

We were almost level again with the Bright Redemption.

Just a little higher, dragon soul! A little higher!

The slick freezing rain coated every inch of the golem and my hands struggled with the levers. Fear shot through me like heated daggers. This whole situation was growing more precarious by the moment.

I didn’t dare take my hands off the levers to wipe the sweat dripping from my forehead onto my nose. Didn’t dare clear the rain from my eyes. I was holding on with every ounce of skill and strength that I had left.

A laugh sounded behind me.

Shabren.

“I can suck the magic right out of that golem, you know. I could have you falling to your death.”

I was sick of his taunts.

“Prove it, then!”

We were leveling with the Bright Redemption now. The canvas covered wall came steadily into view. How would we get in? This golem was too big to go through the bottom entrance. It wasn’t flexible or squeezable at all.

“Oh, I will,” Shabren said. “Now that we’ve tested the theory. Can the golems be flown by inexperienced, poorly educated soldiers? Yes, it seems they can. And now I have no need to test anymore. You’ve outlived your usefulness.”

I didn’t know how to urge the golem forward. I still hadn’t found a way to do that. I thought it as hard as I possiblly could.

FORWARD!

We surged forward in a massive burst and then suddenly it was as if the golem had become nothing but dead metal, all life sucked out of it so that only momentum was carrying me through the air, through the thick canvas collapsing around me and slowing the momentum, across a floor with a metallic squeal and something thick catching at it on the ground and then a terrible crash as we hit a wall and I was thrown forward, padded only by the gathered canvas.

Ah. There you are. A dramatic arrival, as usual.

Kyrowat’s voice echoed through my mind.

Blackness danced before my eyes.

Chapter Sixteen

I lay there long moments, trying to make sense of the world whirling around me. I was cold. I hurt. Black flecks danced across my vision.

There isn’t time for this. Kyrowat’s old voice growled in my mind. Get up.

I blinked at the black specks, sucking in a long breath. Agh! Something in my shoulder hurt if I breathed too hard. I pulled my legs in toward me and tried to get up on hands and knees. My left arm sent stabs of agony through me each time I moved it.

I pushed myself to my feet, unbuttoning one of the middle buttons of my coat with one hand and then putting the left arm into the open section of my coat like a make-shift sling.

I was soaking wet and woozy, chilled to the bone.

It will be worse if you don’t get moving.

I coughed, flinching from the pain it caused, and forced my blurry eyes to focus.

I was in the same basement warehouse of the Bright Redemption that I had been in just days ago with Saboraak. The portion of wall she had flamed apart when we were last there was missing. Canvas and ropes had been used to cover it, but they were gone now, tangled around my dead golem. Cold air and rain blasted in through the open wall.

The Door of Heavens stood in the same place it had been before, though the doorframe was scraped along one side as if something huge and metal had forced its way past it at a high speed – the golem.

My legs shook under me, but they seemed to support my weight. My head was still spinning, though. I reached up and pulled my hand back when I felt something sticky. Blood.

No time for that.

I stumbled forward, sweeping my head back and forth, trying to see where Kyrowat might be. There were feet sticking out from under the golem. A hand, too. A crumpled shape. Probably more bodies, if I was willing to look, but I wasn’t.

I leaned to the side and brought up the bread from yesterday.

Those people – I caused that. I drove that golem into this building. One of them might even be Hubric.

Hubric lives. And he may even continue to do so if you pull yourself together and get over here.

The warehouse was poorly lit, only a single flickering brazier giving any light at all.

We’re in the undamaged half of the room.

I remembered that half being locked.

I stumbled toward it, but the door was wide open. The shelves had all been removed along with the items being stored for the Bright Redemption. The floor – large as it was – was nevertheless covered by a dark heap – not Kyrowat, I hoped.

I hope you have a head injury. Otherwise, I will have to take insult.

No, it was a golem. A flying golem. But it slept, its eyes dim.

There was a crash behind me. I ignored it, stumbling forward. One thing at a time.

They must have been planning to animate this thing with Kyrowat’s soul.

Precisely.

Something wet splashed on the stone in front of my feet.

I looked up, barely suppressing a scream.

It’s only saliva. It’s hard not to drool when you’re hanging head-down.

Kyrowat dangled from the roof, his head just inches from mine. How had I not seen him there before?

You really must have a head injury.

I looked up, woozily into the darkness above. Kyrowat’s wings and feet were bound. Was that something else hanging high in the air?

Hubric.

I stumbled backward and ran a hand over my face. My face was sticky. I needed a bandage for the head wound. I reached into my sleeve for the slip of cloth Zin had passed to me. In the faint light, I could see writing on it.

Feel the rush and fly the run, and sound the warning cry.

It was that prophecy she’d been quoting. She must have written it down. The fabric looked like a scrap of her dress. Underneath the prophecy, she’d written:

Go and warn them. Go without me. - Zin

I couldn’t go without her.

Could we save your angst for another time? Maybe after you free me? Kyrowat asked acerbically.

I swallowed and looked up. If I had two working arms, I might be able to make the climb, but with one hurt – I thought it might be the collarbone – climbing was out of the question.

Just cut the ties holding my head down. I can flame off the other ropes.

Ties?

My head spun as I tried to peer through the dark.

One is tied to the cage wall.

I walked along the wall, letting my hand follow it so I didn’t stumble in the dark. My foot hit the cable first. It was a fat rope – half the thickness of my wrist. I drew one of my daggers and began to saw at it. Slowly, slowly, it began to unravel as I cut through one layer after another. It felt like an age before it snapped.

Two more. One is on the rock wall attached to a metal anchor about the height of your waist.

I stumbled to the next rope, sawing at it in turn. The rope after that was also attached to an anchor. Someone had prepared for this. Before I met Shabren and Apeq, I wouldn’t have thought it possible that anyone would prepare to hold a dragon hostage.

At last!

Kyrowat broke free, flaming down the length of his own body. Burned scraps of rope fell to the ground with a thump.

Move.

I stumbled out of the caged part of the room, trying not to trip over the mess I’d made in the other room. I turned to watch Kyrowat flame again and then deftly somersault to the ground before arching up and skillfully snapping the rope attached to the other dangling figure’s feet and carefully lowering him down to the ground.

It really was Hubric.

I stumbled back through the door, kneeling over the old man to cut his bonds. He was breathing, but his eyes were shut and one of them was purple and swollen.

“Tor?” I spun at the sound of my name.

Chapter Seventeen

I spun, moving too quickly for my spinning head and stumbling to one knee.

“Zin?”

Her voice was high-pitched as she was shoved forward into the room.

“Tor?”

Karema had her by the scruff of the neck and Zyla followed her into the room with a man I didn’t know. They both carried those deadly rods made from the souls of Dragon Riders.

I shuddered. “How – ?”

It wasn’t possible to get here so quickly.

“Do you think you know all the secrets of this city, boy? You are a nuisance, but one easily dealt with. We, on the other hand, have been planning this for years.”

“Through caverns underground, mining shafts, and carts on rails,” Zin said in a sing-song voice as if she were quoting a prophecy, but I thought that perhaps she was just answering my question.

“Enough talk,” Karema said.

“You have all done enough damage tonight. It ends now.”

There was a howling sound and then the screaming of metal as Shabren flew into the gaping hole in the side of the warehouse, his golem much better controlled than mine had been. He dismounted easily when it came to a stop.

“The Master?” he asked Karema.

Her eyes narrowed. Interesting. She was suspicious of him, ally or not. I needed to find a way to leverage that. I needed to find a way to get us all out of here.

Think fast. I can’t flame in here without killing all of you humans. I’d rather avoid that.

Yes, please avoid that, Kyrowat. I almost rolled my eyes. This is why dragons had riders – if it were up to them, they would flame their way out of every problem.

That is why we are superior.

Shabren walked gingerly around my ruined golem and the dead men and women scattered under him.

“Our Master,” Karema said through clenched teeth, “commands us to control this situation. You shouldn’t have released the flyers. Now one is ruined, and the Exalted families are suspicious.”

Shabren shrugged. “They seemed happy enough to me when they were crowning him their ruler.” 

“And six of my people are dead in this basement.”

“Unfortunate.”

I felt something tugging me. The doorway, no doubt. My head hurt and it was hard to keep my balance with my vision spinning so badly. There was some idea just on the edge of reach. Something about the doorway ...

Weren’t you supposed to go through it to help Saboraak?

How did he know that?

I listened in on her words.

Rude.

Yes. What of it?

“Get to your feet, boy,” Karema said tiredly. “If you obey, we won’t kill the girl right now.”

The girl? Shouldn’t she mean the girls?

Are your eyes pasted on?

I concentrated, forcing my eyes to focus and choked in my surprise, coughing and sputtering. Zyla, it seemed, was no captive.

She stood, arms crossed over her chest, beside Karema, but there was no rod threatening her. She was free. She barely glanced at her sister.

I tried to swallow, but it felt like something was stuck in my throat.

She really had betrayed us both. Not just me, but Zin, too. I hadn’t dared to believe it, but there was no denying this. As if on cue, the silver swirled in her eyes.

Shabren began to laugh, harshly. “Stand up, boy. Last chance to keep her alive.”

I stood shakily, stumbling slightly and shaking my head to clear it.

“I’d thought to make interesting items out of you and the old man, but I’m afraid I’ll have to reconsider,” Shabren said. “The entire city is watching now. They saw you fly from the Seat of Judgment to the Bright Redemption. They’ll all want to see what comes out of here next, and Apeq A’kona is in a precarious position.”

Karema sniffed at his words, but he ignored her, carrying on.

“And that means we can’t be seen to be doing anything strange. Which is a pity. I have yet to capture the soul of a purple dragon.”

Zyla, Karema and the man with them leaned forward as if hanging on his words.

“So,” Shabren said, “I’ll have to dispatch the dragon and you two riders. You knew you couldn’t leave this city alive. But why risk the girl? She can live her days out happily here ... with her sister.”

“No!” The word was wrenched out of me. Zyla recoiled from it as if I’d slapped her. Good! Traitors deserved what they got. That kiss ... she’d been using me. A kiss was a promise and she’d broken that promise. I ground my teeth.

“Tor – ” she said, taking a step forward, but I recoiled, stumbling back and into the arch of the Doorway. I needed to be careful. I could fall through with a misstep.

“Fool,” Karema hissed to Shabren. “You can’t kill them here. If you think getting rid of a live dragon will be hard, consider the difficulty of disposing of a dead one.”

I will flame them if they keep talking like that.

He could do what he wanted if he could just wait for me to get the girls free first – or at least Zin.

Shabren’s answering smile was so condescending that I almost wanted to hit him myself.

“There’s a reason that our Master sends me to deal with these things and not you, Karema. I know how to manage them correctly.”

“Yeah, Karema,” I muttered mockingly. Maybe if I could push her that extra inch, she would lose her temper and fight with him and forget about Zin.

“And what plan do you have, then, Shabren?” She spat.

I smiled. Good. She was getting mad. They were turning on each other.

I took a careful step forward, trying to look small and hurt. It wasn’t too hard to do. Every movement sent a jolting pain into my chest. That arm was going to be a problem.

“It would take too long to explain. Let’s just do it, shall we?” Shabren’s voice was tight, like Karema was getting on his last nerve.

“Besides,” I added, “You wouldn’t be able to understand it anyway.”

She gave me a death-look. She must know I was purposely provoking her. But it was still working.

“Boy,” Shabren said sharply. “Bring the old man here.”

“I’m afraid I’ve broken a wing,” I said breezily. “You’ll need to order some other dead-man-walking around.”

Shabren raised his hand and a bolt of red fire shot from a wristband and landed on the rock in front of my feet.

“Need I repeat myself?” He asked.

I swallowed and limped over to Hubric.

Can you move him without hurting him?

Ha! I couldn’t even move him without hurting me!

Then you may not move him.

If I don’t, then Zin will die.

What’s that to me?

Hubric will be mad. I think he feels responsible for these girls – or he did for Zyla and he would for Zin if he knows she’s alive.

Gently, Kyrowat leaned down and opened his mouth wide, scooping Hubric up delicately between teeth longer and sharper than knives. I shuddered. Dragons really had no sense of how terrifying that was for humans.

He doesn’t know. He’s unconscious.

Fair point. Okay, Kyro. Let’s see what we can do. Maybe we can snatch Zin, hop on your back and wing our way out of here.

Unlikely. Maybe you can take us through that doorway.

I didn’t even know where it went. It could be a classic case of out of the frying pan into the fire.

There’s a fire somewhere worse than our inevitable deaths?

Fair point.

We hobbled back to our place in front of the doorway.

“You brought the dragon,” Shabren said. He seemed pleased. “Excellent. Now watch, Karema. Maybe you can learn something about quelling dissent. You too, Zyla. If you’re going to be a Midnight Artificer, you’ll need someone better than Karema to handle your training.”

Okay, we were here, not far from Zin. Karema was as distracted as she ever would be. It was now or never. I tensed, ready to leap forward and grab Zin from Karema the moment I could.

“We’ve tested this door before. From one side, we can transport goods easily into Ko’Koren,” Shabren said. Karema rolled her eyes. She knew this better than he did. “But the other side is deadly. No person we have sent through there has ever come out again.” Shabren smiled. “Maybe you will prove to be exceptions.”

Karema tensed. “If you kill them that way, Shabren, then we won’t have proof for the Master. He’ll want proof if we lose such valuable assets.”

“Leave that to me,” Shabren said with narrowed eyes. “Place your hand on the smoke symbol, boy.”

“Or what?” I looked at Zin. Was it time to leap?

She nodded her head slightly and then looked at the smoke symbol. She wanted me to touch it? Why? Maybe I was misunderstanding.

But then, suddenly, she was speaking in a low chant, almost sing-song in the way it rolled from her tongue.

“When last they chance and roll the dice,

Bet all their lives on this device,”

I’d have to trust she knew something in this chant that I didn’t. After all, she was the one who had studied the prophecies.

“Then set their hearts on hope and pray,

That those who came here in their day,”

I reached back with my good hand and set it on the smoke symbol. The gate flared to life, sending a blast of white light through the room, blinding me with its sudden brightness.

Zin’s voice grew louder over the sound of rushing wind. “Judge true and spare their souls.

And from the heart of she who sees,”

There was a cut of cry in front of me. Not Zin! Don’t let it be Zin! I stumbled forward through the afterimages searing my sight.

Her voice continued to rise. She was almost yelling. “And from the mind of him who flees

Comes way to save and hero bold,

A way to conquer all the cold,”

I took another step forward, blinking away after images. Karema, reeling from some blow I hadn’t seen, lost her grip on Zin who fell forward. I sprinted the last two steps to her and caught her with my good arm before she could hit the ground. She was still chanting as if possessed.

“And stop bloodshed and the reign of fear.

And save all that you hold dear.”

A ball of green fire soared over my head.

“Stop!” Shabren bellowed.

“But do not dodge the turning knife,

The hand that chokes in moment of strife,” Zin said, her prophesying quieter now that I held her. I pulled her back toward the arches.

Come on! Kyrowat roared in my mind. We take our chances. That rod Karema has could kill us all in a heartbeat and I don’t plan on powering a machine with my life force.

I turned, pushing Zin before me as I rushed toward the Door of Heavens. Her chanting was lost in the chaos, though I could still hear her speaking.

Kyrowat dove through headfirst, Hubric in his teeth. His movement was so fast that he was there and then gone again in a moment.

“Stop!” Shabren yelled again and I risked a look behind me in time to see Zyla, gripping Karema’s rod, a look of hatred on her face. The rod flared and Karema crumpled silently, her face frozen in a silent, unreleased scream.

A magenta fireball arched through the air from Shabren’s hand, streaking so close to Zyla’s head that her hair sprouted in smoke.

I shoved Zin in front of me. One more step. Come on! She was looking behind me wildly, pointing at her sister as she chanted.

“But do not dodge the turning knife,

The hand that chokes in moment of strife

For that alone can save your life.”

I looked back over my shoulder in time to see Shabren knock the rod from Zyla’s hand. Her eyes met mine, desperation and fear filling them. I felt my heart harden. She’d betrayed us. Whatever happened now she’d brought down on herself.

But she’d fought for us at the last moment, hadn’t she? At her feet, Karema and the other Midnight Artificer both lay dead or dying.

Forget about her, Tor. She’s a traitor. She’ll sell you out again if she can, I told myself.

“In you go. I’ll be right behind you,” I said to Zin, pushing her gently through the door. In a moment we’d join Saboraak behind that door. In a moment all this would be behind us.

But if Saboraak were here, she would demand compassion. She wouldn’t be okay with leaving Zyla to her fate. I ground my teeth, spat out a curse, turned on my heel, and ran forward in time to see Zyla knocked from her feet by a bolt of lightning streaking from Shabren’s wristband.

Without considering what I was doing, I pulled one of my knives from its holster and threw it, quick as thought, at Shabren. It lodged in his upper arm.  He arched backward, yelling in pain. I was down to five. I took my opportunity.

Running forward to Zyla, I reached down and hauled her back to her feet with one hand. She was nearly as light as her sister. Pain seared through me at the effort, despite her small size. There was something really wrong with my arm and shoulder.

“Go!” I yelled, shoving her before me, fighting against the pain.

We were steps from the doorway. Our steps seemed to echo extra loud across my strained emotions. I willed speed into my legs, forced the screaming pain of my arm and chest from my mind, pushing hard with every muscle to cross those final steps.

Zyla disappeared through the door.

One more step, Tor!

Tor? Hurry! Please, hurry!

I could hear Saboraak’s voice in my head again! We were going to be okay!

Something hot and powerful hit me in the back, sweeping me off my feet and sending me careening through the doorway.

I was on fire.

I was a burning flame.

My vision went black.

Read more of Tor’s Story in Dragon Chameleon: World of Legends.

To the intrepid reader:

Dear Reader,

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Behind the Scenes:

USA Today bestselling author, Sarah K. L. Wilson loves spinning a yarn and if it paints a magical new world, twists something old into something reborn, or makes your heart pound with excitement ... all the better! Sarah hails from the rocky Canadian Shield in Northern Ontario -

learning patience and tenacity from the long months of icy cold - where she lives with her husband and two small boys. You might find her building fires in her woodstove and wishing she had a dragon handy to light them for her

Sarah would like to thank Harold Trammel and Eugenia Kollia for their incredible work in beta reading and proofreading this book. Without their big hearts and passion for stories, this book would not be the same.

www.sarahklwilson.com

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