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

by Adolfo Garza Jr.

  As he brooded over that, Sharrah made her way over and stood before him and Quillan, looking down at the stone floor by her feet.

  She cleared her throat. “I, ah, told the Guildmaster about your nahual den theory.”

  Chanté nodded. “Good.”

  Sharrah looked up, brows raised. “Good? Y–You don’t mind that I told her?”

  “Of course not, she has to know. The patrols must be changed to only run at night. Daytime nahual patrols are almost pointless.” His eyes grew large. “A–Assuming my idea is right, of course.”

  She laughed, then shook her head. “I was worried that you’d get mad at me for telling her.”

  “You were worried about making me mad?”

  “Well, yeah. None of us wants to do things that might hurt our friends.”

  Chanté stared at her. He felt, well, he wasn’t certain what to call it. Happy, certainly. A little excited, too.

  Quillan chuckled. “You’re all pretty nice, huh?”

  “I suppose.” Sharrah shrugged. “We do fight now and then, but, you know, friends sometimes do.”

  Chanté thought about that. It was similar to something Nantli had once said.

  “I do feel a bit like an apple in a bushel of peaches, though.”

  He looked at Quillan. “Like a what?”

  Sharrah chuckled.

  Quillan ducked his head and lifted his shoulders. “I’m the only one here who isn’t a dragonlinked.”

  “Oh.” Chanté hadn’t really noticed that. “No one seems to care.”

  Sharrah leaned toward Quillan. “Besides, you and Chanté are—” Her eyes widened a touch and she blinked. “Ah, both taking lessons with us, and, um, knowing everything you can about dragonlinked was your goal with that, right? So being here helps you, too.” She stood and cleared her throat.

  Quillan grunted. “That’s true.”

  Why was Sharrah suddenly acting strange, again? And why was there so much humor coming through the link from Nantli?

  + + + + +

  Fala walked along the dry riverbed on her way to the crude adobe house that was their hideout. One hand gripped the walking stick tightly, while the other, clenched in a fist, trembled at her side.

  That little bitch! How had she learned of the wheels? How? News of the dragon lover’s findings was everywhere. Replacements for the wheels had even been obtained from Bataan-Mok, so the marble shipments would proceed normally, now.

  “Daelon, give me strength.” Her words weren’t even loud enough to echo off the low walls of the ravine.

  That idiot had gotten himself captured, too, so no further interference at the quarry would be possible. Her other plans weren’t proceeding as quickly as she would have liked, either. Two people, siblings, had left their group, to attend to family matters they said, but she knew better. And as if to add salt to her wounds, it was getting more and more difficult to find anyone willing to stand against the damnable dragon guild. She couldn’t understand why. How had so many been taken in by the evil beasts?

  With a sigh, she continued to trudge along the arroyo.

  Some time later, the sloping bank appeared ahead, and she carefully made her way up the incline and out of the riverbed. All that was left was another half hour or so along an animal trail.

  She walked in the hut. The smiles on their faces when they greeted her disappeared with her words. “How many recruits today?”

  The young man’s eyes grew large and he quickly returned to applying furniture oil to the table, as if even linseed oil could make that piece of scrap better than the junk it was.

  The woman, Jaci, bowed her head slightly. “None, Umeron. We were again unsuccessful.”

  “The others are still out trying, I hope?”

  “They are.”

  The rhythmic creak from the table as the oil was rubbed in drew her attention. Though young, Kwatoko was big and muscular. He’d best be careful or he’d destroy the table with his ministrations. He paused to pour a little oil on the rag and returned to his rubbing.

  Even with the open windows, the scent was strong.

  She drew her brows together. “How much linseed oil do we have?”

  Kwatoko turned to her. “T–Two small cans, Umeron. I brought them with me to help with the furniture.”

  A plan—simple, but potentially very effective—came to her. A slow smile curved her lips.

  Chapter 8

  Minday, Quartus 19, 1875.

  Morning.

  Doronal fidgeted. Aside from trying it on for size, he’d never worn the dress gear before, and it was a little stiff. They were gathered at his family’s country estate—Millinith, himself, High Lady Hasana, Master Gella, and of course, his mother. They all sat around the breakfast table. Several people with severe expressions wandered the grounds around the house, and two stood just outside the closed doors of this room. The High Lady’s security detail.

  Inside the room, however, it appeared is if they were having a normal, everyday post-breakfast talk. Though, now that he thought about it, the subject under discussion wasn’t something most people would sip coffee to, nor would they do so in such august company.

  His mother seemed to find something about the situation amusing. She sat beyond Millinith at the end of the short table, opposite High Lady Hasana. She kept looking from the High Lady to Millinith and back. Her expression was mostly blank, but the faintest hint of a smile curved her lips.

  “The purchase of assets can occur in one week.” High Lady Hasana stared at Millinith. “In light of the guild’s recent assistance, the nation will advance you the funds to make the purchase outright. The loan will be structured such that it can be repaid over the course of twenty years and will accrue interest at the lowest rate we can legally offer you.”

  Millinith let out a little grunt.

  High Lady Hasana smiled. “It was the least I could do for all your help.”

  Millinith cleared her throat. “And the Dragon Craft Guild thanks you. We will always be more than happy to assist the nation in any capacity we are able. That being said, there are costs with any endeavor. Most will be small, as they have been so far, but that may not always be the case.”

  Doronal raised his brows. Did she just give notice that she might charge a fee of some sort in the future? Right after the High Lady gave the guild the lowest interest rate in the land?

  Faint tinkling drew his attention to his mother. The crystals in her hair gave off little chimes as she quickly raised the cup of coffee to her lips. She hadn’t been fast enough to keep him from seeing that she was definitely smiling.

  And what did the High Lady think of this development?

  Surprisingly, she was smiling, too. She glanced at Master Gella and then back at Millinith. “Indeed. This has already been brought to my attention, as well as another potential issue.” She clasped her hands on the table. “I cannot seem to be favoring one person or entity over another, and the Dragon Craft Guild will itself soon need to take that same stance. If you assist me with no recompense, it could be construed as favoritism.”

  “I hardly think that assisting the nation would put the guild in a bad light.” Doronal raised his cup of coffee in a kind of salute to the High Lady before taking a sip.

  “I completely agree,” High Lady Hasana said. “And I will always consider the Dragon Craft Guild a friend of the nation. However, I will not always lead it.”

  Doronal set the coffee cup down. Was that a flicker of concern in her eyes?

  “Would the guild assist the next ruler as readily? Would the next ruler think as highly of the guild?” She waved her hand. “There will be fewer complications all around if there were a contract between the nation and the Dragon Craft Guild. A semi-annual retainer fee would be paid to secure the right to ask for assistance at any time. And if the costs of any joint endeavor should exceed a set limit, an amount which we can discuss, then reimbursement would be paid after the submission of appropriate forms.”

  Millinit
h smiled. “That is exceedingly fair, my lady.”

  There was a little more talk beyond even the expense threshold, but eventually, everything was hammered out. A first draft of the contract would be ready for someone to pick up in a week. High Lady Hasana and Master Gella, their carriage in the midst of the security detail, left for Delcimaar soon after.

  After the three of them returned to the breakfast table, Millinith excused herself for a moment—too much coffee, he supposed—leaving him alone in the sun room with his mother.

  “Millinith is a good match for you.”

  He lifted a brow. Her approval of a partner wasn’t something he felt he needed anymore, but even so, hearing her say that did make him happy.

  She set her cup down. “If a little old.”

  He frowned. “Mother. She’s twenty-one, maybe twenty-two at the most. That’s not very old. Besides which, I’m even older.”

  “Young men and women come of age at fifteen. That’s when they can enter into legal contracts, and also when marriages are typically arranged.” Refilling her cup, she said, “Millinith is much older than that.” She set the delicate pot down. “And are you telling me you don’t even know her true age?”

  He returned his cup to the saucer a little more forcefully than he’d intended. “I’m in love with her, mother, not her age.”

  A brow lifted. “So you are in love with her.” She took a sip of coffee. The laughter in her eyes was plain as she stared at him.

  “I—” He blinked. “That is—” He grabbed his cup and swallowed some coffee while he tried to organize his thoughts.

  In love? Him? But no matter how much he thought about it, the fact remained that he was. He was in love with Millinith.

  He grunted and raised his brows. “I suppose I am.”

  Finally.

  What do you mean, finally? I told you I was infatuated with her. I just didn’t realize that I was in love.

  Strong humor came through the link. For a man so smart, you are sometimes quite stupid.

  Doronal took another sip of coffee and, shaking his head at Huemac’s insufferably good point, reached to set the cup back on its saucer on the table.

  “I can’t wait for another grandchild to dote over like Kaiden.”

  He blinked.

  “Doronal! You’ve stained my lovely linen tablecloth.”

  He stared at the upside down cup, coffee spreading and soaking into the surrounding tablecloth.

  A grandchild?

  Huemac’s rumbling laugh echoed through the link.

  + + + + +

  The sun was much too bright for Chanté’s eyes as Nantli, Anaya, and Mia hovered in the desert sky. He lifted a hand against its intensity.

  Are you excited? Nantli, head turned back, stared at him with her large eyes.

  He smiled at her. I am, though also a little worried.

  Ahead, Aeron turned, and Chanté glancing behind. The portal Aeron had opened was gone. The three dragons were now all that interrupted the expanse of clear blue sky.

  Chanté watched Anaya bank down toward the enormous sprawling structure below.

  Bataan-Mok.

  He’d been observing this place when last he was Ulthis. More of Ulthis had been devoted to the task than ever before. Then Garathel plucked him out of this universe, made him human, and tossed him back, leaving him with the deceptively simple command: Live.

  Chanté took a deep breath and let it out. Let’s get down there with them, lovely.

  Nantli rumbled and followed.

  As she banked down, the person sitting behind pulled their arms tighter around his waist.

  Chanté, Aeron, and Liara were ferrying over all those who were part of today’s enchanting shift. With confirmation this morning allowing the purchase of the former Corpus Order’s assets, the Guildmaster had ordered enchanting, actual construction on the dens, to begin.

  As they got closer to Dragon Square, he saw large stacks of red stone blocks as well as some of white stone, all waiting for them to begin.

  Mia set down first, then Anaya, and finally Nantli. Everyone began dismounting.

  Chanté hopped down.

  Another glance at the stone blocks revealed that the red stone was likely granite. It had the same granular look, but the color of this stone was a dusty red rather than the pale pink of that from the Guildhall.

  “I’ll see you soon.” After a pat on her bond-mate’s cheek, Liara hurried off. To find Polandra?

  The man who’d sat behind Chanté, one of the architects, dismounted and made his way over to a work table. Chanté’s other passengers joined the rest of the enchanting group off to the side.

  Aeron, who’d been speaking with the enchanting shift leader, walked over. “It will take them about half an hour to get ready to begin, I’ve been told.”

  Chanté nodded.

  “As we have a little time to kill, would you like to see the caves where Renata met Nayra and Xochi? That’s where this whole adventure in the desert began.”

  Chanté nodded again. “That would be, ah, great.” He’d been to them before, in a manner of speaking, but it would be interesting to see the caves as he was now.

  Nantli followed Anaya into the portal. They emerged not too far above a tall spire of rock that lanced up from a plateau. Anaya flew down to the flat, rocky mesa below in a long, spiraling glide.

  Once again shielding his eyes, Chanté took in the remarkable view. The land, visible for hundreds of miles around, was beautiful in its stark simplicity. He felt a bit of kinship with this place for some reason.

  Nantli banked down, interrupting his musings.

  Once he dismounted, they all entered a downward-sloping passage. When the tunnel began to grow dim, Aeron unshielded a lantern. Chanté did the same.

  It feels sad.

  He glanced at Nantli, who followed behind with Anaya. “I guess it does feel sad.” He looked forward, down the passage they walked along. “It feels much, emptier I guess, than the Guildhall.”

  Aeron glanced at him. “These caves were abandoned over seventy years ago. Well, other than for very brief periods. Nayra and Xochi and Renata lived in here for a short time.”

  Chanté nodded. Nayra had done extremely well. Another satisfying success he could take pride in.

  They entered a large cave. Shadows danced along its walls as they walked down a dirt ramp, lanterns bumping at their hips.

  “Hmm.” He squatted down and scooped up a handful of sand from the floor of the cave. “This is like at the clutching room.”

  Aeron smiled. “We got the idea from here, actually, at Xochi’s insistence. And the sand we used there is from the same place in the desert that this sand came from.”

  He drew his brows together. “The clutching room is a great deal larger than this. How did you transport so much sand there?”

  “We opened a portal in the clutching room with its other end at the base of a dune, and we and our dragons shoved sand down into it. That allowed us to transport a huge amount fairly quickly. And with all that soft sand, the clutching pit is as comfortable for dragons as this room here, if not more so.”

  It is as he says. This room is nice, but the sand pit is even better.

  Chanté glanced back at the powdery sand on his gloves. Amazing. Would he have thought to use portals in such a manner?

  With a grunt, he dusted off, stood, and looked around. “There aren’t any of those incredible glowing plants in here, though, like at the clutching room.”

  It died.

  He turned to Anaya. “Died?”

  Her large eyes were amber in the light of the lanterns. When the dragons left, no one remained to tend to them.

  “That’s a shame. I like the ones at the Guildhall.”

  There were a few in my line who were moss tenders. It is good that Anaya continues the tradition.

  “You should have seen House Yaot,” Aeron said. “The plants—the moss and fungi—they were all over the place and looked incredible. With hel
p from dragons like Chel and Nenet, who bring us varieties we don’t have, I’m hoping the Guildhall will one day look like that.” He smiled. “Or at the very least, the clutching room.”

  Anaya began to roll around in the sand. She chirped at Nantli, who, with a questioning chirp of her own, began to do the same.

  This feels good!

  A small laugh burst from Chanté’s lips. Having fun like that in the sand, they looked . . . adorable?

  “Sand and dragons,” Aeron said chuckling. He jabbed his thumb toward a passage. “Let’s continue while they play.”

  Chanté followed and they eventually emerged in another cave, this one lit by sunlight from a short passage on the far side. A circle of stones in the middle of the room bore evidence of fires at its center.

  “This is where Isandath lived for several weeks. Renata did too, later on, while she waited to meet Nayra.”

  Chanté nodded. With the arrival of nahual-ton, he’d grown restless and decided to take a somewhat more direct approach here in the desert. Now as a human, however, he couldn’t enter dreams alone anymore.

  He walked down the short passage leading out of the cave system and stared out at the surrounding lands. With only human senses, it appeared near-barren. Other than a bird high in the sky that let out a cry as it searched for prey, he saw no animal life. And the plants, too, were few and far between. It looked nothing at all like the land near the Guildhall. Knowing what he now did of the human body and mind, he was in awe of Isandath and Renata.

  He glanced at Aeron, who’d joined him. “I can’t believe they lived here alone for weeks.”

  “Isandath and Renata?”

  Chanté nodded.

  Aeron chuckled. “Well, to us it seems pretty amazing, but they know how to live down here. They know the plants and animals and tricks to conserve water and such. Having knowledge of a thing goes a long way toward any goal you have for it.”

  Chanté grunted. Knowledge of a thing? Mayhap that was where he should start. If he could discover where the various crafts currently stood, he could avoid giving away advanced knowledge.