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

by Adolfo Garza Jr.

  More importantly, after another look both ways, she saw no one.

  The delivery door was double the width of the front door and had a short ramp instead of a stoop. A small plaque next to a metal button read ‘Ring bell for deliveries.’

  She pressed it. And pressed it. And pressed it again.

  Perhaps no one was in the offices after all.

  After another glance up and down the back alley, she removed the small leather toolkit from her purse.

  The door opened with a surprisingly loud creak that made her cringe. She stood there, frozen. If anyone was inside, they must have heard that. After several seconds, however, no cry of alarm came, no one ran to see who had intruded.

  Heart beating a little more normally, she stepped in and closed the offensively loud door.

  The first thing she noticed was a faint scent of pine or fir. It was rather pleasant and not at all what she expected in a pest control establishment. Taking a look around, she found herself in a wide room that took up the entire back end of this side of the building, a storeroom, more than like, or maybe a work area. Though the evening sun was still up, all windows in the offices were shuttered or otherwise blocked, making it fairly dark. She removed the small hand-lantern from her purse and pressed the activation stud. Careful not to hit the windows with its beam of light, she aimed it around the large room.

  A number of big wooden crates sat along the right wall, but aside from a rickety office desk that was missing about an inch from the bottom of one leg, the room was otherwise empty. She stepped over and glanced at the shipping labels on the crates. They all showed a return address of Stronghold Alchemy Supply. On one of the crates, the one nearest the back door, the top was askew.

  Taking care, there was no telling what kind of poisonous compounds rat catchers used, she lifted off the wooden panel. The same evergreen scent she’d noted upon entry, though much more powerful, wafted out from the crate. A large sack made of cloth with a tight weave sat inside. It looked to be almost half empty. Worried still about toxic chemicals, she hurried to the desk and grabbed a broken pencil she’d spied atop it. She used the pencil to flip open the untied sack.

  It was filled with what looked like a crystallized compound of some kind that had been broken into bits, the smallest like grains of sand and the largest about the size of apple seeds. The compound was translucent, slightly cloudy, and had a light golden-brown tint. Back at the desk, she took what appeared to be an old employment application form and folded it into a pouch. She then used it to carefully scoop up a good amount of the compound, folded it closed, and tied it off with a spare ribbon. After tucking it in her purse, she returned everything to the way it was.

  She surveyed the room again. What else could she find?

  A door on the other side of the room opened on a hallway. As she made her way toward the front of the offices, she grew more and more concerned. Every room she’d looked in so far had been empty. No furniture, no rugs, and only the built-in lighting fixtures on the walls. One did not run a business without desks, without filling cabinets, without . . . anything.

  The rest of the building was completely empty. There weren’t even lightglobes in the wall fixtures. If not for the crates and the old desk in the back room, there would be no evidence that these offices were being used at all.

  A familiar creak made her nearly jump.

  “—dra’s tits. Didn’t you lock this last time? Honestly, you’re the most forgetful man I’ve ever met. It’s good it was just us, right now, or you’d be in for it.”

  The voice was shockingly clear for coming all the way from the back room.

  “I did lock it!”

  “A’course you did. It’ll take but a moment to fill the can.”

  “I’m tellin’ ya, I locked this door.”

  “Mm-hmm. I just hope she figures out a good mixture soon—making these trips over and over is a pain in my ass.”

  “I’m searching the building.”

  Heart racing, Elizabeth glanced around. There was no place to hide in the bare front office. She hurried to the door and was about to open it when she spied a shop bell. If the door were opened, it would sound the bell.

  “I’m done. Where are you?”

  “Hold yer horses, will ya?”

  The building wasn’t small, and yet he sounded terrifyingly close. While there were several rooms along the hallway that she hoped he would search, that still left her with very little time.

  “Gods, hurry it up. I’m hungry.”

  Opening her purse, Elizabeth searched frantically for anything she could use to—there! She grabbed a small kerchief and stuffed it in the narrow bell between the small ringer and the sides. It took a moment to ensure none of the cloth square hung out. Then, unlocking the door, she offered a silent prayer that this one wouldn’t creak. She opened it, stepped outside, and quickly closed it behind.

  There were a few people still about, but she had no choice. It had to be done or that man would know for sure that someone had been here. Pulling out the leather kit again, she inserted the thin tools and closed her eyes.

  You can do it, Bethy. Focus.

  Carefully. Quietly. Quickly!

  The door locked.

  Heart pounding, she hurried down the stairs of the stoop as casually as she could, tucking the tools back in the kit. At the walkway, she slid the leather case in her purse, turned north along the street, and let out a quiet breath. Keeping an eye out for an available public carriage, she walked at a leisurely pace, all the while expecting a shout and chase.

  Don’t look back, Bethy. You’re just out for a walk on a fine evening. You are most definitely not about anything suspicious.

  As she approached the street corner, she spied a crier there with a small crowd around him.

  “Why doesn’t the High Lady help us?” The thin man looked from one person to another, almost as if he expected an answer. None came. “I’ll tell you why. Because she has forsaken us!”

  “Horse shit.”

  Elizabeth glanced at the man who’d spoken. He looked to be a worker of some sort.

  “Oh no, my friend,” the crier said, “elsewise she’d have helped us more.”

  “One,” the worker said, “I’m not your friend. And two, you need to know your laws better. She can’t just waltz in here and start throwing her weight around. The city council is who you should be aiming your anger at. They’re the ones who have done little to help.”

  “Lady lover,” a woman said, scornfully.

  “And why wouldn’t I like the High Lady? She helps as she can.” The worker frowned. “I’ll warrant that if she had forced assistance on us, you lot would be here bellyaching about how she thinks she can stick her nose in our business.” He scoffed and waved his hand as he walked off. “People like you wouldn’t be happy if a pot of gold fell in your lap. You’d look for someone to sue for strained muscles.”

  The crowd grumbled and Elizabeth moved on. She didn’t like their look and had other things of import to do right now.

  She spied an available cabriolet making its way up the street and waved at the driver.

  The carriage came to a stop. “Did you need a cab, miss?”

  “Yes, please.”

  The driver reached over to switch the sign to ‘Hired,’ and asked, “Where to, miss?”

  She opened the side-door and paused on the step. “Stronghold Alchemy Supply.”

  + + + + +

  Cadoc walked into the pub. As he passed the stack of newspapers, he picked up a copy of today’s Sportsman’s Review and tucked it under his arm. Once at the bar, he sat three stools down from the man. He did not look at him.

  From discreet observation, it appeared that the man, Struan, spent about an hour in this pub after work nearly every day. He liked to drink, and he liked to bet on dogs.

  “Whiskey,” Cadoc told the barkeep. “Neat.”

  He removed a cigarette and tucked the metal case back in his jacket. After lighting the cigare
tte, he shook the match out and tossed it into the tray for cigar and pipe ash. He then unfolded the paper and flipped to the section with the day’s dog racing results. Taking a long pull on the cigarette, he looked the results over.

  Which to choose, which to choose? A hound that would have given a decent return on a bet if it had won would be ideal, but not one with odds that were too long.

  A glass was set before him. He grabbed it, lifted it to the barkeep in thanks, and took a sip. Smooth, warm, and smokey, it was good and not watered down. His judgment of this pub rising, he returned to his search.

  Other preparations were well underway. Supplies had been obtained and teams were ready to proceed. All that remained was determining the when and the where so construction could begin.

  Ah, here was a good one. Bookmaker’s Bane. A somewhat presumptuous name for the bitch, particularly since she lost, but her racing history made her the perfect choice.

  “Bookmaker’s Bane, my ass,” he grumbled loudly. “More like Bettor’s Bane.” He swallowed the rest of his whiskey in one go, slid the glass forward on the bar, and said, “Another.”

  He crushed out the cigarette in the tray and looked at the paper. “Yrdra’s ice-cold tits. You were supposed to win, you damn fleabag.” Feigning anger, he flipped through the pages.

  The barkeep refilled his glass.

  “Bookmaker’s Bane, you said?” Struan was looking at him, a sympathetic look on his face.

  Cadoc nodded. “Aye, the mangy mongrel.”

  Struan chuckled. “I lost a fair amount on that bitch, too.”

  “Did you, now?” He lifted his whiskey. “Why don’t you join me in a few. We’ll drown our losses together.”

  Struan smiled. “Don’t mind if I do.”

  + + + + +

  As Zolin glided along their route near Cotter’s Grove, Jessip stared ahead, not really paying attention to the view. It was near the end of their patrol, he was tired, and there wasn’t much that could be made out anyway, as night had fallen almost an hour ago. Besides which, his nahual sense would let him know if there were any of the creatures around. Right now his mind was on other things.

  He pressed his lips together. Do you think I could stand on the saddle, in flight?

  Mild surprise came through the link. What would the purpose of that be?

  Yes, or no?

  If you did so while I was gliding, it would likely not be difficult. When I perform a wing stroke, however, it could cause you to lose your footing. So again, why? Wariness flitted through the link.

  A trick for the show.

  I see! No longer dubious, only excitement surged through from Zolin. Perhaps you could have places for your feet added to the saddle, two flat sections near the handholds? The curved top of the saddle is not the best surface for standing.

  True enough.

  If Zolin thought it was possible, Jessip definitely wanted to at least try. It would be best to do so over water, however, to be safe. A fall might still hurt, but it wouldn’t be deadly. He hoped. And if they could perfect standing in the saddle, then there was one other thing they could try, to make it a little more exciting for the audience.

  Nahual.

  Having also experienced the odd sensation, Jessip looked the same direction as Zolin. Let’s go get it.

  Zolin rumbled, banked to the right, and beat his wings.

  Jessip went over the modified barrier spell. Everything should work out fine, so long as the damn nahual didn’t know about resonance. The barrier wouldn’t be anchored to the nahual, so resonance would be the only way the beast could counter it. They’d run across a few talented nahual able to counter spells cast on them almost immediately, but hopefully, that was the extent of their sorcerous abilities.

  Standing at the edge of a dark copse of trees, the nahual was difficult to make out with just the stars and a waning Hemet for illumination. Duvin wasn’t up yet.

  Jessip grabbed his bo and hopped to the ground. He threw up four glow enchantments to light the area. This location reminded him of the other night, and he frowned. The sky was clear, though, so at least there wouldn’t be rain.

  The nahual let out a slow hiss and took a step toward him.

  Zolin let out a deep, drawn-out rumble.

  Jessip glanced at him. Let’s not scare it off.

  This one is not frightened at all.

  Jessip grunted. Zolin could sense the thing’s feelings?

  A pulse of magic drew his attention back to the nahual. The glamour spell covered him, filling him with a calm lethargy.

  Counter it.

  Hmm? Zolin wanted him to . . . do something with the spell.

  Counter that spell.

  Ah, yes. He was supposed to get rid of the glamour. But— Do I have to? I’m a little tired. I’d rather lie down and relax.

  Counter that spell, now!

  Jessip slowly drew his brows together. Why was Zolin so angry? Fine. I’ll get rid of it.

  He concentrated and focused on the spell—it took some effort—and saw its weak points. He wove the counter spell into it, and, completing the counter, watched it collapse.

  The nahual hissed and took a step back.

  With the lifting of it, his thoughts cleared and he again realized how insidious the glamour was. Filled with embarrassment, he glanced at Zolin. Thanks.

  Let us just capture the evil thing.

  Right. Turning back to the beast, Jessip took a breath. Time to see if this would work.

  Jessip levitated the nahual and then immediately cast the barrier cube, encasing the nahual within. The half bark, half whine it made, sounding remarkably like surprise, was immensely gratifying to hear. The beast recovered quickly, however.

  There was a growl from inside the opaque barrier, and the levitation spell collapsed, rebounding back to Jessip like a punch to the gut. The nahual had countered it.

  Question was, could it counter the enclosing barrier?

  Jessip and Zolin watched the shimmery, opaque cube as it floated five feet in the air. The anchor he’d used to lock it at that height was not a tight bind, so as the nahual moved within, the cube lowered, raised, and shifted, bobbing around slowly and returning to its original location and height as it could.

  Growls and grunts came from within. Was it trying to claw the air holes on the bottom open?

  It seems to be trapped.

  He turned to Zolin. So it does. Let’s start moving it to the test area. Tell the others we may have caught one.

  It is done.

  As Jessip eyed the barrier from Zolin’s back, he wasn’t really concerned with protecting the beast from injury, so he used Tretan’s Relocation with no regard to that. The shimmery cube, easy to see against the dark trees, jerked quickly from location to location below them. After a few minutes of that, however, he did worry that the thing might get killed from head or bodily injury, so he took more care to not jerk the cube about too much. The nahual did have to be alive for the experiments, after all.

  From what he understood, several sites more than ten miles away from the Guildhall had been looked at. That distance was important so that the nahual would be beyond the range of those not involved with the testing, and thus would not alarm them with its presence.

  By the time he and Zolin arrived at the chosen test site, about a dozen miles north of the Guildhall, it seemed that everyone who could fly on their dragon was already there. Several glows had also been enchanted around the site.

  All eyes were on the cube.

  “Well done, Jessip.” Guildmaster Millinith turned from the cube to Sharrah. “Ready?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Sharrah held a notebook, as it seemed she almost always did, and looked ready to take notes. Cheddar stood at her side.

  Jessip grunted. Even some who couldn’t ride their dragons were here. Which was understandable, he supposed. Interest in this experiment was high.

  “Alright,” Guildmaster Millinith said, “Aeron, Willem, Renata, Chanté, head to your position
s. Once your dragons drop you off there, they should head to their positions. Zolin, Itzel, head to yours. Everyone make use of glows, please. I want no injuries caused by darkness.”

  The Guildmaster turned to him. “Move the nahual to the starting spot, if you would, Jessip.”

  As the dragonlinked and dragons left, he moved the barrier-trapped nahual to the side of the first berm of soil. There were several of the nearly square mounds, placed in a line so that from the dragonlinked and dragon’s positions, the nahual would be progressively blocked from them by increasing amounts of soil, in increments of about five feet at a time.

  Hissing and growling came from within the barrier cube. Jessip imagined the nahual was getting more and more frustrated, trapped in there with no way out.

  “Everyone remain on alert in case the thing escapes the barrier.” Master Doronal eyed the cube and Huemac let out a rumble.

  It only took a few minutes for everyone to get into position.

  Guildmaster Millinith said, “I’ve had no reports of anyone not able to sense the thing, so, first position, please, Jessip.”

  He nodded and moved the nahual behind the first berm. This would be five feet of blockage.

  Guildmaster Millinith’s eyes went flat for a moment. “Anaya told Itzel that there was a slight wavering from her position ten miles out, but it is still easily detectable. Itzel says no others noticed a change.”

  Sharrah started writing. A moment later, she said, “Alright, I’m ready.”

  Guildmaster Millinith looked at him. “Next position, Jessip.”

  He moved the nahual behind the second mound, approximating ten feet.

  Sharrah recorded the results and they continued.

  Twenty-five feet of rock and soil. That was the amount of obstruction that produced the maximum reduction in the nahual sense. At ten feet, detection was reduced to somewhere between nine and ten miles. At fifteen feet, it was reduced to around eight miles. At twenty feet it dropped to around six, and at twenty-five and more, it was reduced to four miles.

  Everyone returned from their positions with worried expressions. He couldn’t blame them.