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

by Adolfo Garza Jr.

  Dragon barks, nods, and a ‘Yes, ma’am’ here and there followed.

  “Good. Once we get some intelligence as to the situation, I’ll work with him to ascertain how we can assist further.”

  She turned to Renata. “Could you open a portal to Caer Ilan, please?”

  After a moment, the softly glowing portal appeared above.

  “Let’s get going.”

  Millinith watched as they mounted up and flew through. She climbed into Itzel’s saddle when Huemac, the last of the other dragons, lifted off.

  Ready?

  I am, but I think Lif—

  “Guildmaster!” Adept Liflin ran out from the Guildhall and down the steps, something held up in his hand. “Master Gella writes to you!”

  “I don’t have time right now.”

  He fidgeted, holding up the ’writer. “I think it’s important, ma’am.”

  She sighed, leaned down, and took the device from him.

  Guildmaster Millinith, I have an emergency ~

  Perfect. She pressed her lips together, grabbed the stylus, and began writing.

  What is it? ~

  A shipment of Korovite has come under attack ~

  Yrdra’s pissing gate! Millinith scowled. As if she didn’t already have something going on. She scribbled out a question.

  Where? ~

  About halfway between CTC Station 38 and Pellucid ~

  Suddenly, Millinith realized just how important Aeron’s discovery was.

  I think we are on the way to that location with CTC security personnel ~

  How? Why? ~

  One of our patrols came across a number of suspicious people at about the location you describe. The likelihood of there being two groups in the same area at the same time is ridiculously small. It must be the same people.

  Excellent. Fillion will take me and two of my people, but I need another dragon to ferry the last two.

  Millinith drew her brows together. There weren’t any others who could carry people.

  Nantli and Chanté.

  She glanced at Itzel. Do you think they’re ready for something like this?

  They know our purpose. They will come.

  She clenched her jaws then let out a breath. Itzel was right. Those two had to start sometime. Alright. Ask them to get here quickly.

  A moment later, Itzel barked. They come.

  Millinith sighed. She hated getting them involved so soon in something that could be potentially very dangerous. She wrote a quick reply to Master Gella.

  Have Fillion open a portal above the Guildhall in five minutes. A dragon will come through to pick up your people. All of you use that same portal to come to the Guildhall. I will open a new portal here from the train in ten minutes ~

  Understood. ~ ~

  Millinith shook her head as she glanced at her wrist-watch to mark the time. Too much was happening at once.

  “I’ve addressed the master investigator’s concern,” she said, handing the ’writer down to Liflin, “and we will return when we can.”

  He nodded. “Good luck, ma’am. And have no fear, I will do my best to manage things while you are gone.”

  “Thank you.”

  Tell Chanté and Nantli to take the portal that appears above here in five minutes.

  Done.

  Let’s go. Renata has held this one open long enough.

  + + + + +

  Chanté bit his lip. He’d feel so much more at ease if Quillan came with him on this task. “Are you sure you can’t come?”

  “I–I’m sorry. I . . . I can’t, yet.”

  Chanté lifted his brows. “Yet?”

  Quillan shrugged. “Besides. How many can Nantli carry at once?”

  Chanté blinked. He’d forgotten about that. Still, ‘yet’ was progress! “Good point.”

  “Just . . . be careful.”

  Chanté nodded and patted Nantli’s neck. Let’s go, lovely.

  She chirped and lifted off from their balcony.

  He and Quillan had been studying a Healing Craft lesson when Itzel had spoken to Nantli. He wasn’t sure he liked being summoned like this, but apparently, there was no one else who could go. He only wished he’d had some warning. Doing this at the last moment with no notice made him uncomfortable.

  That thought made him frown. He used to do all sorts of things on the spur of the moment. They usually involved some sort of japery, but even so.

  Nantli landed in the courtyard in front of the Guildhall. Itzel said a portal would open above here soon.

  Chanté unstrapped and hopped off. As Quillan had reminded him, she’d be carrying more people than she was used to. Might as well not put any extra strain on her if he could avoid it.

  Excitement thrummed through the link as Nantli stared up at the sky.

  He placed a hand on her shoulder. You seem happy to be doing this.

  I am! I get to do something with Anaya. She has grown into a beautiful dragon. The others look up to her, as well. It makes me very proud of her.

  I’m proud of her, too.

  She turned to him and touched her nose to his head. Thank you for saving her.

  He felt a tiny flicker of guilt and wondered why. O–Of course.

  It is here.

  A cloudy sphere floated in the sky.

  So it is. He climbed into the saddle and they were off.

  He’d seen others use portals in his time here so far, but he’d not yet done so himself. As Nantli approached the strangely glowing cloud, he wondered what it would feel like. He braced himself.

  When they passed through, the only thing he felt was some kind of unseen wall, as if in this new place they found themselves the air itself was pressing against him. It felt heavier, somehow.

  They are below.

  Chanté took in his surroundings. Buildings, most quite large, extended for a long way all around him. This was a city close up. Stronghold.

  It was much later in the day here. Suule was near the horizon and his ruddy light shone up between two buildings east of them.

  We must hurry. Coatl says to land near him so the people can all mount up.

  Right. Let’s get down there.

  “Chanté! Nice to see you again.”

  He dismounted and nodded at the smiling boy. “Fillion.” He glanced nervously at the others.

  “This is Master Gella.” Fillion gestured to a stern-looking young woman. “She’s a special investigator that we sometimes assist.”

  After a glance at his hair, she looked him in the eyes. “It’s a, ah, pleasure to meet you, Chanté.”

  He gave a quick bow of his head. “Master Gella.”

  “And the rest of them,” Fillion said, “well . . .”

  “Are my associates.” Master Gella smiled. “We’re short on time, however, so let’s be about it, shall we?”

  “Yes. I don’t want to hold the portal open for too long.” Fillion mounted Coatl, followed by Master Gella and two others.

  Chanté glanced at the remaining two people. He handed them riding belts and straps then mounted Nantli. Fillion must have explained their use already, or they were familiar with them, because the two, a woman and man, had them on in no time.

  Once everyone was secure, Fillion and Coatl lifted off for the portal. Chanté and Nantli followed behind.

  Back at the Guildhall, everyone dismounted in the courtyard.

  “What of those people at the train, Chanté?” Master Gella looked at him. “Any idea what they are up to? All I’ve gotten so far is a terse message about an attack on the train and its general location.”

  A train was under attack? “I–I have no idea. I was studying Healing Craft a few minutes ago when the Guildmaster asked me and Nantli to help ferry you over here. That’s all I was told.”

  She grunted, frowned, and pulled something from an inner breast pocket of her long coat. She began tapping on it—writing on it?—with a small stick-like item.

  “There it is.” Fillion mounted up.

 
After a glance at the portal, Chanté did as well.

  Master Gella’s associates quickly mounted up and strapped in.

  “Damn, still no response.” Master Gella tucked the thing back in her jacket and climbed behind Fillion. “When you’re ready, Fillion.”

  With a train under attack, Chanté had no idea what to expect. Would they emerge in the middle of fighting, people yelling orders back and forth, swords clashing, arrows and bolts whistling through the air? He’d witnessed battles, watched from afar the art of combat practiced in the past. Would he be witness to it from much closer?

  Fillion raised his left arm, fist clenched.

  Coatl lifted and flew up to the portal.

  Chanté took a breath and let it out, then grabbed the handholds on the saddle. Let’s go.

  Chapter 6

  Leday, Quartus 17, 1875.

  Morning.

  Chanté and Nantli emerged into near silence.

  Air whispered as it flowed over the breathing slits in the riding mask, thrummed over Nantli’s wings, but that was it. No sounds of battle, no armies on the ground below. Just trees, the shiny, parallel rails of train tracks leading east and west, and the train itself. The only thing that broke the solitude was when the dragons began beating their wings to hover.

  Using binocs, Chanté examined the train a little south of them. He was taken with anything humans created that was large, so he’d paid a little more attention than normal to their development of rail transport.

  The train was big, heavy, and incredible. There were five cars behind the engine. An enormous crossbow sat atop one of the cars near the back of the train, and on the last car, a hatch was open. Part of the track before the engine was missing, sitting twisted to the side, as was some behind the last car.

  Why didn’t they just levitate the train over the damaged portions?

  Taking another look around, he spied a few people here and there hiding in the trees, and the glint of metal from something just under the treeline between him and the train. He also caught a glimpse of some kind of shimmer there, but he couldn’t make anything out clearly through the leafy canopy.

  There was no activity, however. All was still and silent.

  When Coatl headed to the east, toward a small clearing near the tracks, Nantli followed.

  The makeshift camp they arrived at was not silent, though it was quieter than he would have expected.

  As he dismounted, Chanté saw Master Gella speaking with the Guildmaster, Master Doronal, and an unknown man. The people he and Fillion had brought walked over and stood near Master Gella. The other dragonlinked were off to the side, in a group. Bundles of some kind—perhaps of arrows?—were being carried from their dragons and set in neat piles. There were other people here, dressed in some kind of uniform. They stood in groups of two or three. Everyone eyed each other with curiosity.

  “I finally heard back from the train,” Master Gella said. “Apparently, other than the sorcery to destroy the tracks in front of and behind the train, the attackers have done nothing else. The people on the train have taken this opportunity to repair the lifting mechanism on the rearmost crossbow before attempting anything else. It was damaged when the train used emergency braking.”

  “What of the device I saw the attackers working on north of the train?” Aeron said.

  Master Gella looked at the unknown man. “Bertram?”

  “It’s a ballista,” he said. “The thing’s impossible to make out, as they have a kind of obscuring barrier placed around it, but my scouts were able to get to a vantage point and see over the barrier.” He glanced toward the distant blurry wall of sorcery, just visible through some trees.

  Chanté grunted. That was what he’d caught a glimpse of. The way it actively distorted light made it impossible to discern what hid behind it.

  “Have they used the ballista?” The Guildmaster looked worried.

  Master Gella shook her head. “The attackers have done nothing, so far.”

  “Are the cars armored?” Master Doronal asked.

  Master Gella nodded. “The last three are.”

  “If they haven’t already, all people on the train should move to those cars.”

  “You think they’ll use the ballista?” Master Gella removed the device from her pocket.

  “They wouldn’t have brought it if they didn’t intend to use it.” He frowned. “The only question is, what are they waiting for?”

  Master Gella grunted and started writing.

  “Bertram,” Fillion said, “did your scouts find anything more?”

  “No.” The man shook his head. “Other than the three groups of people, we appear to be alone out here.”

  Chanté used the binocs and looked through the trees at the train. The ballista had been perfectly placed to cover the engine and the cars. The attackers must have destroyed the track ahead, forcing the train to stop within the ballista’s range, and then the track behind had been destroyed as well to keep it there.

  He drew his brows together. Everything had been planned out perfectly, so what were they waiting for?

  “And what of that ward I saw them laying?” Aeron asked.

  Bertram looked at him. “Ward?”

  “Yeah.” He dug a scrap of paper from a pocket. Handing it to Bertram, he said, “They were working on some kind of ward or spell where I marked there.” He frowned. “Now that I think about it, the way they were placing the ward nodes, it probably now surrounds the train.”

  “Everyone is already in those armored cars,” Master Gella said, eyes on the small device in her hand. “Several are complaining of the hot and stifling quarters. Some feel as if the air is getting hard to breathe.” She grunted. “It seems this sit and wait is starting to wear on them.”

  Chanté glanced back at the train. Hard to breathe? Hmm.

  He walked from the clearing, down the slight rise to the tracks, and toward the rear of the train. He stopped a few dozen yards back, just where the line of trees ended, giving him a complete view of everything, including the obscured ballista.

  “You,” he called back, pointing to the man who’d ridden with him and Nantli. “Shoot at the train.”

  The man lifted his brows. “I’m sorry?”

  Chanté looked at him. “Fire an arrow at the train. Now.”

  Master Gella stared at Chanté a moment, then nodded at the man.

  The tall man shrugged, removed the longbow from his back, and let loose an arrow. The faint whistling sound it made came to a sudden stop when the arrow was deflected. A pulsing flash of light outlined a portion of a domed, sorcerous barrier, twenty feet from the train. The deflected arrow clattered into the trees to the south.

  “That’s why it’s getting hard to breathe,” Chanté said.

  “Barbs and blades.” Master Gella stared at the train.

  They weren’t the only ones to see the flash of light. A loud sound came from ahead and to the right.

  ’Ware!

  Chanté instinctively threw up a tall barrier. Moments later an enormous wooden bolt struck the invisible wall. The barrier shimmered briefly, then flared as the spell failed, and the heavy quarrel dropped to the ground where the barrier had stood.

  He stared at the large bolt in shock. The five-foot piece of timber, over half a foot in diameter, had a nasty metal cap with short spikes and a long, sharp point. If that had struck him . . .

  “Dragonlinked, ready for combat!” The Guildmaster turned to the dragons. “Everyone get airborne. See what you can discover about them from the air, but watch yourselves. They will have sorcerers. Master Doronal, if you could coordinate them, please?”

  The man trotted to his dusty red dragon, Huemac. “Of course.”

  “Chanté.” The Guildmaster hurried down the slope to him. “Your binocs, please. I’m going to see about that barrier.”

  He numbly handed them to her.

  “They’re firing through that obscuring ward,” Bertram said and turned to a woman at his side. “We
should be able to as well. See if you can take out that ballista.”

  She nodded and ran off, waving for one of those groups of people to follow her.

  Some people to the south are moving closer.

  Shaking his head to clear it, Chanté called out, “That south group draws near.”

  Bertram gestured to a man who nodded and, along with another of those groups, headed for the trees south of the tracks.

  “Archers!” someone yelled.

  Chanté turned and leaned a bit as he tried to spot who’d yelled up at the camp above the tracks. He heard something like ‘thwp’ and the fletching of an arrow tickled his ear as it flew past.

  Chanté!

  Heart pounding and eyes wide, he reached a hand up to his ear.

  Nantli roared and ran to his side. She roared again and took a step toward the woods.

  No! Chanté threw up a tall, wide barrier to protect himself, Nantli, and Guildmaster Millinith from the archers to the south. You’re too big to chase them around in those trees. It’s too dangerous. Let those people deal with the archers.

  He felt anger through the link, the desire to chase after whoever was shooting at them, at him, but she did not run off.

  She let out a huff. Fine.

  He was not the only one to have raised a barrier in defense. Sorcerous flashes of light from others being struck by arrows came from all around.

  The sound of the ballista drew his gaze, but the bolt it fired went into the air above. Arrows from near it were arcing into the sky as well.

  “They’re aiming at the dragons.” Master Gella pointed. “The ballista won’t likely hit, but a lucky shot from a longbow or such might strike home.”

  “I’ll have the dragons gain altitude.” Guildmaster Millinith’s gaze went flat a moment, then she lifted the binocs and looked back at the train.

  A moment later she said, “That barrier ward is tricky. I can’t seem to take out any of the nodes. Chanté, I used Myung’s Manifestation, so you should be able to see their locations.”

  Chanté looked over, but saw nothing. “I’m sorry, I can’t see anything. They must be too far.”

  An arrow caused his barrier to flash, and then another.

  Nantli, eyes on the trees across the tracks, let out a quiet, angry bark with each one.