Of Gods, Trees, and a Sapling: Dragonlinked Chronicles Volume 4

by Adolfo Garza Jr.

Chanté, trying to restrain the excitement he felt, said, “H–Hello.”

  This boy was the first to engage in the purpose Ulthis had put in place so long ago. For some reason, Chanté felt like laughing and jumping up and down and—what was wrong with him? He needed to control those impulses or he’d look the fool.

  His excitement must have awoken Nantli. What is it?

  It’s Aeron. I’ve not met him in person before, only observed him from afar. He is the one bonded to your daughter.

  I want to meet him, too! She barked.

  “Your dragon sounds excited.” Aeron leaned in and glanced over at the door to the den.

  “She, we, haven’t met a lot of people. She wants to meet you.”

  “It would be my pleasure.” Aeron walked over to her. “Well aren’t you a lovely, big girl. What’s your name?”

  She let out a happy rumble. My name is Nantli.

  “Hello, Nantli. I’m Aeron. Welcome to the Dragon Craft Guild.”

  She chirped. Thank you.

  Aeron glanced at Chanté, then he pulled his lips into a crooked grin. “What?” he asked.

  Chanté blinked. “Hmm?”

  “You’re staring at me. Is something stuck on my face?” He reached up with a hand.

  “N–No. I just . . .” Chanté swallowed. Why did he feel so . . . so . . .

  Why are you so in awe of him?

  He blinked. In awe. Awe-struck? Yes. Aeron is Anaya’s bond-mate. If not for them, this very structure we are in would not exist.

  Chanté cleared his throat. “I’ve always wanted to meet you, is all. You were the first to bond.”

  Aeron blushed and laughed. “Aw, I’m nothing special. Just a boy who got lucky, is all. Come on, let’s go eat.”

  “Eat?”

  “Yeah, it’s time for dinner.” Aeron pointed to the device on the desk that was ticking. “Guildmaster Millinith asked me to come get you. A good idea, I bet, as I’m sure you haven’t had time to learn where everything is in the Guildhall. And besides . . .” The grin on his face made him look years younger. “. . . I wanted to meet the unknown dragonlinked and dragon. Renata was right. You do look exotic.” He glanced slightly up.

  Chanté kept from outright frowning. Admittedly, he had only partial memories, but he didn’t recall white hair being that unusual. Why was everyone so fascinated with his hair color? Though, Quillan had said it was unusual for someone his age. His apparent age.

  It seems many are curious about us.

  He looked at her. So it would appear. I’m not sure I like that. He glanced at the credit slip on the desk. “I’d like to go, but I haven’t gotten any of the marks used for currency, yet, so I can’t pay for the meal.”

  “Meals are free to members and guests of the guild.”

  “Oh.” He glanced at Nantli. I actually am hungry. Will you be okay here while I go eat?

  I think so.

  “Will she feel lonely by herself with you gone? You’ve only been bonded a few days, right?”

  Lonely. That was the feeling of being alone. Chanté glanced at her. “She says she’ll be fine, but I can tell that she does feel a little, ah, lonely.”

  “Why don’t I have Anaya stay with her while we eat?”

  Nantli let out a very excited bark and stood.

  Aeron laughed. “I don’t need to be her bond-mate to tell she likes that idea.” His eyes went flat for a moment. “Anaya’s on her way.”

  “That’s . . .” Chanté felt strange, a little overwhelmed, for some reason. “That’s very kind of you. Thank you. I’ve always wanted to meet Anaya, too. The first dragon to bond.”

  Aeron chuckled. “Renata mentioned you were a dragon fanatic. I guess you really are. You should meet Korrie, another dragonlinked. She absolutely adores dragons and has even made dragon dolls.”

  Chanté nodded. There were so many reactions, responses, and feelings going through him. Had he planned all this when creating humans?

  “Let’s meet her outside.” Aeron headed for the back of the rooms.

  The three of them waited on the balcony. When Anaya rose over the Guildhall, a surge of excitement, mingled with fear and the tiniest sliver of shame, came through the link.

  Chanté glanced at Nantli. Worry not. She’s a fine dragon. You did her no injustice.

  Nantli let out a quiet chirp.

  Anaya set down and turned to them. Hello Nantli, Chanté. Welcome to the guild.

  Aeron walked over and smiled at her.

  Seeing them together, close enough to reach out and touch, made Chanté very happy.

  She is beautiful!

  That she is, lovely, that she is. Chanté smiled. “I am . . . ah, I am certain that Ulthis is exceedingly happy with all that you two have accomplished.”

  Aeron turned to him. “Accomplished?”

  “Discovering your purpose, keeping it alive, and founding a guild, even.”

  Aeron raised his hands and chuckled. “Hey now, we didn’t do all that alone.”

  “Mayhap, but if not for your and Anaya’s perseverance, I doubt that things would stand where they do today. I’m certain Ulthis is proud.”

  Aeron shrugged. “Whether that’s true is debatable, but one thing is not. I’m starving!” He laughed and patted Anaya on the shoulder.

  She padded over to Nantli and chirped at her.

  Nantli stared at the tawny dragon.

  Chanté felt her uncertainty through the link. He lifted a corner of his mouth in a little smile. Just talk.

  Nantli glanced at him.

  He chuckled. A wise dragon once gave me that advice.

  She is wise indeed. Nantli turned back to Anaya and, after a moment, chirped back.

  A little conversation of chirps and quiet barks began.

  As he watched Nantli and Anaya, happiness and warmth surged within Chanté. It felt really good to have helped her meet her daughter.

  “They seem to be getting along, now,” Aeron whispered. “Let’s go.”

  Chanté cleared his throat and nodded.

  A few minutes later, Chanté was even more grateful to Aeron for coming to meet him. He would have gotten completely lost, otherwise. He tried to note the way as Aeron led him through the Guildhall, but he lost track of their wanderings very quickly.

  “I’m going to have to study the maps a great deal more,” he said. “I’m hopeless right now.”

  Aeron glanced at him. “Don’t feel too bad. It’s your first day, after all, and the only reason some of us know our way about so well is that we spent a disgusting amount of time in here on enchanting shifts.” He chuckled. “We’re more familiar with the place than we’d like.”

  The sound of a lot of people came from a doorway ahead. Aeron led him through it. The room was filled with rows of long tables where people sat talking, laughing, and eating.

  Chanté’s heart started beating a little faster and he swallowed. There were so many! The noise in the place started to die down as people turned toward the door, toward them.

  No. Everyone had turned toward him.

  “Unknown dragonlinked,” came a snatch of a whisper.

  “Come on,” Aeron said and headed for a doorway at the side of the room.

  Chanté quickly followed.

  Are you okay? You feel very nervous. I thought you were going to eat?

  Is that what this feeling is called? Nervous? I’ve never felt this way before today.

  Aeron grabbed a kind of tray and moved to the end of a line of people at the side of a counter.

  Chanté followed suit.

  Are you in danger? Should I come to you?

  No, no. I’m fine. There are a lot of people here and they were all staring at me, is all.

  You are unique in appearance among those your age. At least compared to all we have met so far.

  Chanté drew his brows together. A glance at the younger people behind the counter didn’t help, everyone back there wore caps of some kind over their hair, but as Nantli had said, people th
ey’d seen so far around his age had black hair or some shade or hue of brown or yellow. If his hair really was unique, it could be problematic.

  Now you feel worried.

  I want to . . . mix in, blend in with them, not stand out and seem different. My hair color might make that difficult.

  People so far have not been alarmed by your hair color, merely curious.

  Well, that was something, he supposed.

  The line of people having moved along, Aeron had reached the counter. He walked along it, asking for various kinds of food, pointing them out, and the people behind the counter gave the requested items to him on plates.

  Chanté hurried to do the same. He had no idea what the different foods were, so he chose those that Aeron had and hoped they tasted good. They certainly smelled good.

  And how are you and Anaya doing? You feel a little sad.

  Anaya has achieved more than I could have hoped for her.

  So then why are you sad?

  I thought I might be able to help her in some way, but what more can I do for her? She is a fine dragon, as you said, and is already a better dragon than I could have dreamed. She has even taken up moss-tending, something my mother’s mother did. We spent some time talking about that.

  Perhaps there are other things you can do for her.

  Such as?

  I . . . don’t know.

  With a slight frown, he followed Aeron out of the side room. Not as many people turned to him this time, thankfully.

  “You can sit with me and Willem, if you like.” Aeron nodded to a blond boy sitting at the table he neared.

  Chanté blinked. There was a young man at that table with red hair. That was a color he’d not seen on anyone’s head so far. A quick look around revealed no one else with red hair. For some reason, it made Chanté feel a tiny bit less like an outsider to have found someone else with unusual hair color.

  “Or,” Aeron said, pointing with his elbow, “there’s Quillan. You two arrived together, right?”

  At mention of the name, relief flooded Chanté. As friendly as people had been so far, he still only felt completely . . . safe around Quillan.

  “Hey!” The tousle-haired boy waved at him from the table next to the one Willem sat at.

  Chanté smiled. “Yes, we did. I think I will sit with him, thank you.”

  “Alright.” Aeron nodded and sat next to Willem.

  Chanté headed for the empty spot on the bench next to Quillan.

  After setting the tray on the table, he sat and leaned toward the young man. “Am I ever glad to see you,” he whispered.

  Quillan’s brows drew together. “Are you okay?”

  “Everyone I’ve met has been incredibly nice and helpful, but there are so many people in the guild,” he glanced around the dining room, “and so much has happened today. It’s all just . . .” He shrugged.

  Quillan chuckled. “A little much?”

  “Yes!” Chanté looked around again. “And everyone stares at me. Curiosity about the unknown dragonlinked, I guess.” He reached up to his head. “Or maybe my hair.”

  “It’s more than that.” A faint pink color rose in Quillan’s cheeks.

  “Whatever it is, all the attention makes me feel . . . uncomfortable. I’m glad you’re here.”

  “You really aren’t used to people staring at you.”

  “No, I’m not.” As he noted others had done, Chanté removed the plates of food, the glass of ‘orange juice,’ though it was closer to yellow than orange, and the metal utensils from the tray.

  Now, what were their eating customs? He didn’t want to seem even more out of place, so he glanced around the table to see what the others were doing. Some foods, it seemed, were eaten by hand, while for others, the utensils were key. He grabbed the metal tool with tines and stabbed a piece of what was apparently a vegetable of some sort.

  Surprised at how good it tasted, he turned to Quillan in wonder.

  The machinist was smiling at him.

  Chanté ate the slice of ‘squash’ and smiled back. “How about you? How have your first few hours in the guild been?”

  “Fantastic. Like you said, everyone’s been very nice. We should compare lesson schedules. See if we have any together.”

  Chanté blinked. “Did you apply to be dragonlinked?”

  “No, but I suggested, and the Guildmaster agreed, that it might be a good idea for me to train with them so that I might learn what they do. I can then better understand the requirements and needs of dragonlinked that way.”

  Chanté raised his brows. “That’s actually a great idea.”

  That flush of pink was back in Quillan’s cheeks. “You never know what I might be able to discover or come up with once I learn more about dragonlinked.”

  + + + + +

  Elizabeth glanced up and down the lamp-lit street. No one was looking her direction at the moment, so she quickly made her way into the darker and narrower side-street.

  It wasn’t that she was worried someone was following, though that had been a concern in other investigations. No. She just didn’t want to be seen frequenting an establishment on this particular boulevard. She already had trouble with preconceptions about her age, she didn’t need anything else working against her.

  Calling it a boulevard raised it a few steps up from the somewhat smelly back-street that it actually was. The business owners here were a bit less scrupulous ethically and, it would appear, hygienically. Only haphazard efforts were made in keeping the garbage bins in their appropriate spots. And, too, trash seemed to make it into the bins only half the time. Unless it was thoughtless rag-and-bone searchers that had been through here and not cleaned up after themselves. Whatever the case, garbage lay on the ground all around the bins. Hopefully someone would clean up before the city crews visited this street for the weekly waste pickup.

  She made her way toward the end of the narrow thoroughfare. Though street lamps here were spaced much farther apart, sconces and the occasional sorcerous sign beside the business doors threw arcs of light on the ground. Alas, most of the lightglobes in the fixtures appeared to need recharging or replacement. The light along the street wasn’t as bright as she would have liked.

  A rat scurried off at her passing and she shivered. It was indeed a sad state of affairs when she had to resort to an establishment in a place like . . . this. There were few enchanting shops left, however, so until she found answers, she had to visit each one, no matter their locale.

  The economic collapse drove many businesses to close or relocate to the west. How long would it take before things returned to the way they were before the equine flu killed nearly half of the horses here? Would it ever? She had no idea, but almost every day she passed someone on a street corner decrying the current economic climate.

  The previous enchanting shops she’d tried had been in more respectable locations. So far, however, none had been able or willing to assist her in determining the purpose of the device nor the enchantments placed upon it. She carried it in the bag slung over her shoulder, and it bounced against her with each step.

  The first place she’d tried had of course been the Stronghold branch of the Magic Craft Guild, but none there would assist with her ‘non-critical’ and, according to them, very time-consuming request. That left the sorcery shops, the last of which must be behind this door.

  She stared. It had stars painted in a playful scattering on it. Stars. With a chuckle and a half-smile, she tried the knob. It turned, so she opened the door and walked in. Little chimes sounded, a shop bell set off by the door’s movement.

  “Welcome.” An older gentleman, sitting across the room behind a counter, bowed his head slightly.

  “Good evening, sir.” She smiled at him.

  There was more light in the shop than she expected. A great number of items filled the place, though they were all neatly stacked and displayed.

  She made her way between bookcases overflowing with tomes of various size and condition, tables
displaying tools and equipment of unknown purpose, and shelves with bottles and tins, the contents of which she didn’t want to contemplate.

  Once at the counter, she said, “I’m glad to find you still open at this hour.”

  His smile and round cheeks made slits of his bright eyes. “I don’t really have anything else to do.” He chuckled. “And besides, I live in the basement, so the trip home is an easy one.”

  She laughed. “I see. Well,” she placed the bag on the counter, “I have what is perhaps an odd request.”

  Gaze on the leather bag, he raised his brows. “Oh? Yes?”

  “I was wondering if you could tell me what this device does.” She removed the metal item, its wire tied in a coil with a ribbon, and placed it on top of the bag.

  “Ah!” He pulled the bag and the device closer, then tsked. “Fire damage. Water, too. Hmm.” He slipped on a large pair of odd glasses and fiddled with several lenses on levers, sliding them up and down in front of his eyes.

  He picked the device up and examined it from every side. Elizabeth had already looked it over herself. Well, at least as much as she was able to, and as much as she had the courage for. The sorcerous symbols engraved onto a plate of metal on one side had worried her a bit.

  The rectangular device was perhaps seven inches in length by five inches, and was about two inches thick. A thin plate or sheet of metal was on its front, or the top, depending on the device’s orientation. One of the plate’s edges appeared somewhat burnt. The symbols that had given her pause were etched or engraved upon it, by hand it looked like. A thin trail of color—mostly off-yellow but on the burned edge almost a blood red, ran from the burnt side of the metal plate and through the odd symbols. The geometric, linear precision of the lines was oddly attractive. To the right of the engraved sheet of metal, beyond its burned edge, there were four metal studs. She’d been too afraid to press them, not knowing what they would activate. Aside from those, the only other items of note on the case were two circular openings along the right side of the device, their small metal collars protruding slightly. The wire that she’d coiled emerged from one, while the other was empty, aside from what looked like traces of ash and char.

  “Hmm. Yes.” The gentleman made little appreciative sounds as he looked it over. With a deft movement of his fingers, the back of the device popped open.