“Can you see it? Chanté? Quillan?”
He nodded, as did Quillan.
“Good.” Adept Elah nodded, once. “Now that you can see the foci, you can weave your own spell through them to break the barrier enchantment down.”
Chanté drew his brows together. “See the foci?”
Adept Elah nodded. “That’s correct. Everyone sees them differently, but . . . how do you see foci? Gears? Layers of sand? Colors in a painting?”
He shook his head. “All I can ‘see’ is a swirling cloud of gray, but the flavors of the foci are quite clear. There’s sucrose, and bitter—”
“Flavors?” Adept Elah placed his hands on the table and leaned in a touch. His brows were raised. “You’re telling me that you taste spells?”
Chanté glanced around the room at everyone staring at him. “Y–Yes.”
Embarrassed. Thanks to Nantli, he knew the name of how he felt right now.
“Fascinating.” Adept Elah stared at him a moment more, then stood back up. “Right. As I said before, with the spell made visible, it can be countered. Fillion? If you would?”
“Yes, sir.”
Another pulse of power passed over him, this time from the right, and with a little flash, the barrier spell collapsed.
“Good.” Adept Elah ended his Manifestation spell and, after a glance at Chanté, headed back to the front of the class.
“The theory behind focus resonance is beyond the scope of these lessons, and possibly your profession, but should you be so inclined, you can drop by my office to borrow a magic theory book I have that covers that information. Suffice it to say that Myung’s Manifestation causes foci to resonate. This causes them to, well not vibrate in the literal sense, but magically, it is similar. While they thrum, anyone can see them.”
“Hey.” The whisper came from the right.
Chanté glanced over. Quillan was looking at Fillion, who’d leaned closer.
“Don’t feel bad,” Fillion whispered. “You’re not that far behind. We only just learned Myung’s four weeks ago ourselves.” He glanced at the instructor then back at Quillan and Chanté. “If we’d known that spell five weeks ago or so, a certain fight may have been much, much shorter.”
Five weeks ago? That would be a month. Did Fillion mean the fight with the Order? Chanté grunted. If more had known how to take down Yiska’s barriers from around Anaya, it would certainly have helped.
“And for our second refresher topic . . .”
Chanté turned back to Adept Elah and what he was saying.
They covered a few more things before the lesson ended for they day. Adept Elah gave Quillan and him copies of the Magic Craft primer, what those newly accepted to Dragon Craft learned from, and instructed them to read over the book as soon as they could. The knowledge in it was taught in accepted lessons, he explained, and would thus not be covered by him, but the two of them needed to be familiar with the terms, the concepts, and the spells in the primer, in order to understand his lessons without undue explanation.
Chanté agreed. He hadn’t known much of the terminology used in the day’s discussions, however, when explained or demonstrated, he realized that he did in fact already know the concepts, just by different names. In fact, by the end of the lesson, he realized that he’d retained more knowledge and memories of magic usage than he would have expected, considering what else was left to him.
Was it deliberate? Did his father want to test whether Chanté would violate that condition of his punishment? Or was it just happenstance?
Whatever the case, it was . . . comforting? Reassuring? Nice? Yes. It was nice to have something he could confidently discuss with others, unlike the emotions and feelings he still grappled with. Care just had to be taken not to go too far, revealing the extent of his sorcery knowledge and possibly breaking that condition. Finding out exactly how much sorcery humans knew about would be key to that.
He flipped through the leather-bound primer as he followed Quillan to their rooms. The presentation of information in the slim volume was very juvenile, but the information itself was accurate enough. He noted that a few aspects of magic got no mention whatsoever. Surely humans at least knew about the trilateral nature of higher level sorcery. As powerful as it was, the portal spell must make use of it. Oddly, his cursory examination of the book didn’t reveal anything concerning that topic. This was an introductory volume, though. Perhaps such things were taught in later lessons?
They had stopped walking, and when Chanté looked up to see why, he saw that they stood before the door to his room.
“There’s just under an hour to dinner,” Quillan said. “Would it be alright if I spent that time here?”
“Of course.” Chanté unlocked the door and they walked in.
“The view your rooms have still takes my breath away.” Gazing down the short hallway—he must be taking in the incredible vista out the enormous west-facing window—Quillan continued on into the bedroom.
A glance revealed that the sun was about two hours from touching the tops of the hills. Its golden light lit the ledge and flowed in the huge window.
Chanté set his things on the desk and walked in the bedroom. “What are your rooms like?”
Quillan chuckled. “Not like this. Well, actually, the layout is similar, but there’s no window, nor are there doors to a den.” He left the bedroom for the gigantic room next door.
Through the short passage, Chanté heard him greet Nantli.
“Hello, beautiful girl.”
Her happy rumble preceded her sending. I really like him.
Chanté smiled and entered the den. “As we have a little time, would you like to fly with us for a bit?”
Quillan’s face went white. “I–I don’t think so.”
Chanté blinked. “Why not? If you think the view from my rooms is nice, you should see it from dragonback.”
Nantli let out a sympathetic whine. He is very frightened of something.
Of what?
“Y–You have to promise.”
Chanté’s brows drew together. “Promise?”
Quillan swallowed. “Promise you won’t laugh.”
“I don’t under—”
“Swear it!”
Chanté raised his hands. “Okay. I swear I won’t laugh.”
Quillan cleared his throat and looked at the floor. “I’m . . . I’m terrified of heights.”
He tried. He truly did, but a short laugh escaped his lips before he could slap a hand over his mouth.
Quillan pointed an accusing finger at him. “You swore!”
“I’m sorry! I just . . . you’re terrified of heights, and yet you joined the Dragon Craft Guild?”
Quillan ducked his head and twisted his lips. “Okay, maybe it is a little ridiculous. But I didn’t think I’d have to fly on a dragon to help you all fight nahual, so . . .” He shrugged.
Chanté shook his head. As he stared at Quillan, his lips curved into a smile.
“Don’t think ill of me.”
“I don’t.”
“I can see your smile. You think it’s funny that heights scare me.”
“I’m not smiling because I find you humorous. I’m smiling because I really like that you came all this way and joined, despite your fear. I think that’s commendable.”
Quillan’s eyes widened a touch and his cheeks flushed.
“Come.” Chanté grabbed the temporary saddle from the stand. “Watch us fly.”
He saddled Nantli and led her out to the ledge. Quillan followed out of the den but stopped just outside.
Chanté mounted up. “Maybe seeing how not dangerous flying is you’ll one day come with us?”
Quillan glanced warily around the ledge before looking back at him. “I’ll watch, but I don’t know about the rest.”
Chanté chuckled. Let’s go, my beauty. Let’s show him how fun it is!
With an excited bark, Nantli leapt into the air.
+ + + + +
“So, how
do you ride on a horse, then? They’re fairly high off the ground.”
Quillan glanced at the others seated nearby at the dining table and frowned. At least the question had been whispered. He leaned over and whispered back. “When I was ten, it took me nearly two months of secret practice on a mounting step-ladder, slowly getting the courage to stand on the next higher step, before I was able to get up into a saddle and then ride a horse.”
Chanté stared at him. “Two months?”
“Well, I had to get used to the height of each step before moving on to the next.” He sighed. “Gods, it sounds pathetic, doesn’t it?”
Chanté shook his head. “No. It sounds like determination to me.”
Quillan’s heart gave a large thump. He really did understand! “D–Don’t get any ideas, though. I still have trouble on a second floor balcony.”
Still staring, Chanté stuck a forkful of chocolate cake in his mouth. His expression changed and he closed his eyes. “Mmm,” he mumbled around the mouthful. “Food is so good. If I’d only known . . .”
Quillan smiled. Chanté was unusual and odd and, at least to him, ridiculously charming. The young man was also shockingly good-looking, but in a different and very intriguing kind of way. Quillan often times found himself just staring at him, captivated, and more than a little attracted.
Unfortunately, it seemed he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t help but stare. Wherever Chanté went, he was usually the center of attention. That often made him retreat within himself. He seemed to be hesitant about being around others, especially those in class one. Because of that, Quillan had again led them to this other table where the newer members of the guild ate. The senior dragonlinked, what few of them hadn’t gone off on patrols of some kind after the lesson, were at their usual table, the next one over.
Terry and Korrie, the youngest and newest dragonlinked in the guild, had welcomed them immediately the first time they’d sat at this table. Chanté had seemed less anxious around them and the others here. Not that those in class one hadn’t been welcoming, but perhaps sitting with others who were like him, new to the guild, made Chanté less uncomfortable than sitting with the more experienced members.
At first, Quillan had thought Chanté’s apprehensiveness around others was shyness, but he now knew that Chanté was definitely not shy. No, he just didn’t know how to interact with strangers and that lack seemed to upset him. Was his awkwardness a consequence of his family’s decree? Had that caused Chanté and his family to shut themselves away?
“As much as I’ll be happy to see what they come up with,” Terry said, “I’d have liked to be in the show, too.”
“Our dragons are much too small, much too young, to carry us.”
The boy glanced at Korrie and frowned. “I know. But isn’t there something we could do? We’re dragonlinked, too, you know.”
She chuckled. “That’s true. We could try to come up with an idea that will allow the younger dragons to participate as well.”
Quillan looked from her to Terry. “What’s this show you’re talking about?”
“Korrie’s dad wants to have a dragon show along with the trade fair at the Summer Festival down at Caer Baronel. The senior dragonlinked are all working on things for them to do with their dragons, and I wanted to do something, too.” He sighed. “But Korrie’s right. Our dragons can’t carry us yet.”
“How about a dance?”
All those sitting nearby turned to Chanté.
“A dance?” Renny stared at Chanté from across the table.
“What do you mean?” Hunter, sitting to Renny’s left, drew her brows together.
Chanté swallowed. “I–I remember seeing people dancing before, where they all move together, making identical steps.” He turned to Terry. “Perhaps your dragons could do coordinated moves in the air while they’re all in a . . . formation of some kind.”
“Hmm.” Korrie tapped a finger to her lips. “That’s not a bad idea.”
Terry turned to her. “They do love to do crazy moves. We just need to come up with an order to them,” he glanced at Chanté and smiled, “a kind of dance.”
Chanté looked down at his plate and nodded.
Quillan smiled. It seemed Chanté was getting more and more comfortable speaking with people. Now if he could—
Most of those seated nearby, all the bonded dragonlinked, turned their heads to face the same direction.
Quillan drew his brows together and was about to ask what was going on, when light burst forth from several people. In wide bands, the skin just above Chanté’s wrists glowed brightly. Terry and Korrie, too, had illuminated wrists. Quillan had to shield his eyes from the intensity until it faded moments later.
“Nahual!” Renata jumped to her feet.
Quillan had heard about dragonlinked being able to sense those horrible beasts. It seemed to be true. But what had that light been about?
“I’m on duty, tonight.” A red-headed young man, Quillan thought his name might be Jessip, stood and turned for the door.
“Hey,” Renata said, hastily setting dishes on a tray. “I’m going with you.”
The young man watched her run the tray to the bus-bins. He smiled. “If you like. Don’t get in my way though, or I’ll have to spank you.”
She stopped unloading dishes and turned to him, eyes wide. “Jessip!” Her cheeks darkened.
So Jessip was his name. Quillan smiled a little at her embarrassment.
Chuckling, Jessip jogged out of the cafeteria.
After a glance around at all the people staring at her, Renata scowled and quickly finished putting away her dishes before hurrying out the door.
Everyone starting talking at once.
“A nahual this close to the Guildhall?” “I’d love to try fighting it.” “I’d love to watch him kill it.” “If my arm was healed more, I’d go, too.”
Just as suddenly, most of the voices stopped.
“Quillan.”
He turned to Chanté. “Yes?”
“Nantli says that all dragonlinked are to meet up in the courtyard outside saddlery. Itzel sent word from the Guildmaster to the dragons. All dragonlinked trainees and candidates are going to watch this fight as a learning experience.”
Quillan’s heart started pounding. There was no way he was riding a dragon! He shook his head. “I–I can’t go.”
Chanté lifted a corner of his lips in a half-smile. There was no scorn in his gaze, however, only understanding. “Yes, you can. Those without dragons or whose dragons cannot carry them are to go on horseback.”
“Oh.” His heart slowed its rapid pace. He chuckled. “That, I can do.”
The same instruction was being passed on by others who’d heard from their own dragons, it seemed. Several people quickly got their dishes together and headed for the bus-bins before making their way out of the room. He and those near him followed suit.
The night was fairly dark. Quillan gripped the reins tightly as the horse slowly made its way. Though both Duvin and Hemet were out, and even though the largest, Hemet, was only three nights from being full, the cloud-cover that had moved in at dinnertime blocked much of the light of both moons and all that of the stars.
It wasn’t so much that he was afraid of the dark. Yes, the thought that there was a nahual out here somewhere worried him. How could it not? But no, that wasn’t the cause of his uneasiness. Most of the dragonlinked seemed anxious, and worried murmurs came from many of those nearby. There was some kind of issue—though exactly what the problem was remained unclear to him.
What could worry dragonlinked?
The leader of the expedition, Jessip, had a large glow enchanted under his dragon’s belly to make it easier for those below to follow him to the nahual. Those who were bonded could ‘feel’ where the beast was and had no need of such assistance, even on this dark night. Others, though, like him, could certainly use the help. Quillan flicked the reins to get his horse to match pace with the others.
Aft
er less time than he expected, they got to where everyone was dismounting.
He tied his horse to a young tree in a copse where everyone was doing the same. Small lanterns glowed to life here and there as people removed them from saddle bags and opened their light shields, or in the case of hand-lanterns, activated them.
Terry handed a lantern to him. “Here you go. Korrie and I can share one.” The two had ridden on a horse together, behind him.
“Thanks.” Quillan slid the light shield open a bit. “Do you know why some are worried?” He glanced around.
“From what I understand,” Korrie said, “we should have sensed the nahual much sooner than we all did. It’s four or five miles from the Guildhall, but nahual sense is supposed to have a range of ten miles.”
Quillan frowned. What could—
“They’re keeping an eye on it from above,” Gregor said. Owing to his broken arm, he’d ridden with those on horseback to help guide them. “Turns out it’s a nahual-ton, so some of you, those without bond-mates, won’t be able to see the beast. It will be invisible to you.”
Invisible nahual? Quillan raised his brows. Alandra’s merciful heart. That such things could exist was more than a little terrifying.
What must be Gregor’s dragon landed several yards away, padded over to him, and touched its nose to his forehead.
After a one-armed hug, Gregor said, “We’re going the rest of the way on foot.” He turned and headed off, his dragon at his side.
Quillan followed, but the earlier revelation still had him out of sorts. A nahual you couldn’t see? Good gods, how did one fight such a thing?
“Quillan.”
The small lantern rattled a little when he jumped. He spun around. “Chanté! You nearly scared me to death.”
The boy took half a step back. “S–Sorry.”
Nantli, who stood a pace behind Chanté, tilted her head and chirped.
Quillan chuckled. “It’s okay. I was startled is all. I’m actually really glad you’re here. Let’s hurry, though. They’re moving on.”
They followed Gregor and the others across the low area between two hills.
Of Gods, Trees, and a Sapling: Dragonlinked Chronicles Volume 4 Page 18
