Dragon Chameleon: Mist of Power by Sarah K. L. Wilson

Author:Sarah K. L. Wilson [Wilson, Sarah K. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sarah K. L. Wilson
Published: 2019-02-05T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

There was no time to think about odds or wonder if I was making the right choice. I had mere seconds before the dragons would be gone and with them, my distraction.

I scrambled backward three steps and then ran toward the edge of the roof, leaping at the last moment to clear the edge, over the wolf golem’s snapping jaws, past its broad head and landing cleanly on its back.

The landing hurt, sending shooting pains up my spine and through my hips. It was all I could do to hold on to the slick metal, quickly flipping around and grabbing the molded saddle – a part of its back. Whoever had invented these things had made them to be ridden. That much was obvious. But I was willing to bet that they’d never expected someone in the crowd to take advantage of that.

That was my specialty – doing the unexpected. Surprise was a friend to everyone.

Remember, you can be just as easily surprised as they can.

Did she think I was playing around? Did she think I didn’t know what a dangerous situation I was in?

Do you know? You are riding a golem with no way to stop and no way to get off of it. If you try to do either, it will bite you clean in half!

I shivered. I hadn’t even thought of getting off of it. The creature was already loping forward again. There had to be a way to disable it. What is made by man can be destroyed by man.

Fools rush in where dragons fear to tread. There was a pause as I examined the golem and then she sent another thought. But maybe we need a few fools. If everyone lived safe lives there wouldn’t be any heroes.

I was no hero. She would learn that eventually. She was the one who just saved Bataar.

I examined the golem. There was nothing up here except for a smooth surface with the molded saddle. I could stay on, but I couldn’t disable it. There was no switch or lever, no gear or cog.

The wolf-golem bucked and wove, forgetting the people in front of us in its desperate attempt to get me off its back. I held on to the pommel of the saddle, clenched my teeth, and rode for my life.

After all, I’d ridden a dragon, and she flew in a lot more directions than this thing could run.

I also wasn’t trying to buck you off.

A point. A fair point. I dodged a sign hanging by a chain and then a flapping oak leaf banner. The boardwalk hadn’t been designed for racing down it on the back of a metal golem. If Shabren had weapons like these, why had he fled the Dominion? Why hadn’t he brought them there?

Maybe he found them here. Maybe he is still planning to bring them to the Dominion. Didn’t Apeq tell the other man to watch for his sign tonight?

This wasn’t a sign. It was a massacre.

It can be two things at once.

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